Date: Tue, 13 Feb 2007 07:44:53 -0800 (PST)
From: Hank M <redbeardedsf (at) yahoo (dot) com>
Subject: Cyril's Graduation Present, part two

This story is a take-off on one of the first stories posted on SlaveNow,
entitled The Graduate by George Edington. It's stayed in my imagination
where I've considered how I would adapt and expand upon the scenario.

If you're not an adult, if you're offended by gay sex, and if it's illegal
to read an erotic story where you're located, go away now! This fiction
story takes place in a world where enslavement - to serve the wealthy, keep
the wheels of commerce turning and especially for sexual uses - is legal
and commonplace. While there are references at the start of the story to
the narrator's growing up years, there is no sex with anyone below the age
of 18. For (positive) feedback or thoughts:
recbeardedsf at y a h o o dot c o m.


CYRIL'S GRADUATION PRESENT
CHAPTER 2


The day of Cyril Fife's graduation party was a big deal in our town. Even
though Cyril had spent the last four years in a private school in another
state, his father was still the most prominent and most wealthy man in our
county. The entire Fife estate was going to be decked out
lavishly. Mr. Fife had invited his top employees from Fife Industries,
along with their families. He had also invited many of the graduating
seniors who had known Cyril back in his middle school days, when he still
attended school in our community.


My father referred to these boys as "Cyril's friends," but I knew better -
I knew that Cyril had been labeled a fairy and had sucked the dicks of most
of these boys at the back of our locker room. Although Cyril had sought my
friendship and I'd been invited to the estate to swim and even sleep over,
I had managed to keep the cock-hungry Cyril off my dick. What can I tell
you? I'm just totally straight. I've heard guys say, "A mouth is a mouth,"
but the idea of two males doing anything sexual together is just a total
turn-off for me.


I had tried to be polite when Mr. Fife brought me along to the slave
emporium to help him choose a graduation gift for Cyril, but the afternoon
had freaked me out. This older man, my dad's boss, had sampled slave boy
mouths on his cock right in front of me. But I had known most of my life
that Mr. Fife controlled my father's destiny at Fife Industries, including
whether my dad would even have a job, so we never did anything to displease
Mr. Fife.


My dad was real concerned that I look good for the party. He insisted I go
for a haircut the day before. He even bought me new clean underwear, which
I found very odd. And yet at the last minute he told me not to wear the
nice new shirt I had just purchased. He said he didn't want the shirt to
get ruined, which made no sense to me. But I left the labels still attached
and wore one of my favorite old shirts instead.


The party was huge and yet Mr. Fife managed to grab me as I walked in to
tell me that at nine o'clock he would be presenting Cyril's graduation
present and that I just had to be right up front. My dad gave his boss a
canned smile and enthusiastically said he'd be sure I was where I needed to
be.


I went looking for a drink and to try to find my buddies from school. But
when I turned around, Cyril came flouncing up to me. Damn, somehow he
managed to get fruitier every time I saw him. His white slacks were too
tight. His shirt was see-through and opened almost to his belly button, and
his hair looked like he had frosted the tips. Beside him were two other
boys our age who looked like part of the same team, just as queeny as
Cyril.


"Look at you," he gushed, managing to put his hands on my arms and
shoulders. "Still the jock, still the hunky hard body. Y'know I've always
wanted to HAVE a body like yours." His queeny sidekicks laughed. He had
emphasized the word "have" to give it a dirty meaning. I shuddered and did
my best to smile politely.


When I turned around again there stood Mr. Fife handing me a drink and
insisting I try this special recipe. It was delicious and very
refreshing. When I finished I looked for another glass of the same but
couldn't find any.


The entire party was ushered outside and gathered around a punishment frame
where a young slim slave boy was being chained up. When I realized we were
all going to witness a whipping, I looked at my father beside me and said
"I'd rather not," but before I could turn to go back inside me, he had his
hands on my shoulders and said, "Don't be rude to our hosts, Wally."


I was made to watch as the poor boy's slave shorts were pulled down. Damn,
he didn't look much older than me. Mr. Fife announced that this recently
enslaved boy had tried to escape. "But of course his implanted tracking
chip and all our other modern methods made escape impossible. As a treat
for our guests, this ungrateful slave will be bullwhipped by the gold star
winner of his school's Whipmaster's Club and the president of his school's
Young Slave Handler's Club, my son, Cyril."


Cyril really did know how to handle a whip. I watched as five diagonal red
lines, each evenly spaced appeared along the slave's back. Then five
diagonal lines crossed he first five making a criss-cross pattern. Cyril
knew how to alternate stripes down the slaves buttocks and thighs and back
up to his shoulders. If you could ignore the fact that a pathetic young guy
was being brutalized it was quite a show being put on for the audience.


Cyril had a smug look on his face as he stepped down from the scaffold. He
walked right toward me and I could see drops of blood on his light-colored
clothes. I could also see that the front of his pants were tented out. He
rubbed his erection through his pants and I saw a wet spot spread across
the white fabric. He passed me and whispered, "Caught you looking, Wally."
Then he disappeared back into the house to change his clothes.


I found my buddies from our high school baseball team and we did our best
to get drunk together. The guest list hadn't included many girls our
age. Apparently the only friends Mr. Fife had remembered from Cyril's days
in our town were guys, and the only friends Cyril had from his most recent
school were guys.


Next thing I knew my father was ushering me to the front of the main
ballroom for Mr. Fife's presentation. Dad's hand squeezed my shoulder as he
said, "Remember, Wally, I've always loved you and tried to do what's best
for the family." I wanted to tell dad that I knew there was no way he could
afford to buy me the sort of presents that Cyril Fife would get, but
Mr. Fife was calling for attention.


My dad kept pushing me forward until I stood very close to Mr. Fife, with
Cyril on his other side. I looked at my dad questioningly. Mr. Fife somehow
had the notion that Cyril and I had been friends. Was he now going to ask
me to say some words or make some presentation to Cyril? The wealthy man
was rambling on about how much Cyril had always wanted to own his own
slave. Every now and then there was a forced laugh from the crowd. I turned
and saw two black-uniformed slave cops behind Mr. Fife. But where was the
slave? Behind the curtains? Through the door?


Mr. Fife turned to me and grinned broadly as he removed a paper from his
jacket pocket. "Wallace Donatien Smith your rights as a citizen are hereby
rescinded and you are..." Everyone knew that those words were the preamble
to enslavement. My mind went blank and I couldn't hear anything else. Cyril
had the biggest most lascivious grin on his face. He licked his lips and
rubbed his hands together.


Each of the large slave cops was holding one of my arms. "Remove all
articles of free boy clothing, slave," one of them spat at me.


"Dad, no! You couldn't...." One of the slave cops zapped me on the chest
with a slave prod and I convulsed even as my father was stammering, "Be a
good slave, son. It's all for the best of the family. And besides, Cyril
will be your owner and he always liked you so well."


My body was still trying to get over the new sensation of the slave prod,
but I felt a whole new wave of panic run through me. Cyril would be my
owner! Yes, Cyril had always liked me - in fact the flaming homosexual had
been chasing me sexually almost since we met. And now I was going to be
Cyril's property to do with as he pleased.


I saw the glint of the curved knives that the slave cops use to cut off the
clothes during a noncooperative enslavement. My father stepped up to me and
put a hand on my arm as he said, "Please, Wally, do it with
dignity. Besides your younger brothers could grow into these clothes."


As if in a trance I started to unbutton my shirt. I saw my buddies from the
baseball team at school. I wanted to cry out to them to stop this from
happening. But as I kicked off my shoes Bobby Malone led the guys in a
chant of "Strip Slave Boy, Strip! Strip Slave Boy, Strip!"


When I reached for my belt I realized my penis was fully erect. This didn't
make any sense to me. I paused and tried to think of things to make my cock
go soft before proceeding. The slave cop had the prod poised to touch my
nipple as encouragement, but Cyril shouted out, "Let me unwrap my present
the rest of the way."


The two burly slave cops held my arms behind me as Cyril slowly unzipped my
pants and pushed them down my legs. He ordered the cops to turn me around
so my back was to the crowd. Then I felt Cyril's long fingers pulling down
just the back of my white briefs and rubbing up and down my ass crack. He
shouted to the crowd, "I'll bet this one is a virgin hole, for sure."


Bobby Malone's distinctive voice called back, "But it won't be for long."
Then there was raucous laughter.


Cyril had me turned back so I was facing the crowd and then he pulled my
briefs down below the balls. He held my hardon gingerly between two fingers
as he grinned at the crowd and said, "It looks like our little Wally likes
the idea of being made into a slave."


At that moment I wondered if my face could get any redder and if I could
possibly feel lower. Of course the answer to both those questions was a
resounding yes.


I was attached naked to a frame and Cyril himself had the honor of snapping
my slave collar into place. The slave cops took over in placing the chip
under the skin below my armpit. Then my slave I.D. number was instantly
tattooed across my right collarbone and across my left hip. The crowd got a
little restless when a bath slave came out and started to shave under my
arms and around my dick and balls. Then I was detached from the frame, my
handcuffs hooked to the back of my collar, and I was led by the two slave
cops to a large slave bathing facility toward the back of the house.


Cyril and his friends followed along. Cyril himself stripped naked to
administer my first enema. His cock was much longer and thicker than when
I'd last seen him with an erection. He kept grinning at me and touching his
dick. He spent a long time greasing up my butthole for the enema
nozzle. When I resisted and tried to pull away, one of the slave cops
touched the electric prod right to my anus and I convulsed in agony.


Cyril had the two slave cops hold me down and spread my legs wide and he
wanted to fuck me right there in the slave bathing room. But his friends
told him it was only right to take a slave's cherry where everyone could
watch. Cyril pulled his clothes back on, while I was pulled back toward the
main part of the house and at that point I couldn't stop the tears running
down my cheeks.


At least I wasn't taken back into the grand ballroom. I was ushered into a
large den and bent over an acrylic horse. It was a sturdy piece of
furniture designed along the lines of traditional horses that were usually
made of wood and metal and leather. The strange thing about this modern
style acrylic horse was that it was mostly see-through. Even though my body
was bent over, nothing was hidden.


A mirror was positioned so that I could see what was going on behind me. It
seemed to be only men in the room now. Cyril was together with his two
effeminate friends. His father was on the other side of me, touching my
body as if testing my muscles. I saw Bobby Malone and the boys from my high
school. And in the back, over in a corner, I saw my father.


Cyril had a mouth guard that he forced onto my teeth. I had heard about
devices like this - to keep a slave from biting when he gave a blowjob. It
forced my mouth wide open and it placed a cushioned surface over my upper
and lower teeth. But my lips and tongue were free to feel anything pressed
against them. My head was held in place by two leather-covered brackets.


Unable to turn my face and unable to close my mouth, I watched helplessly
as Cyril opened his pants and pulled out his large hard penis. I could see
that the tip was drooling pre-cum and he proceeded to wipe that wetness on
my tongue.


I wanted to retch at the very thought of what I was doing as he shoved his
thick cock into my mouth. But the more I tried to pull away the more my
tongue was massaging and exciting his tool. His long fingers caressed my
face and ran through my hair as he pistoned his hips in and out. But just
as he picked up the pace, he pulled out, my drool dripping from his dick
head. "The slave boy has quite a stiff boner," Cyril called out to the
assembled men. "I guess Wally likes the idea of being a slave and taking
dick."


No! That wasn't true. How could he say that? And yet, although I couldn't
explain it, my cock was fully erect. Cyril made his way behind me. He asked
for a volunteer to help get some lubrication for me. Bobby Malone stepped
forward with a flourish. Bobby was always the first to call anyone a fag
and a cocksucker. And now Bobby was stroking my boner. He followed Cyril's
instructions and caught my spunk in his other hand. Cyril then dipped his
fingers into my cream and worked the gooey stuff into my butthole.


I gritted my teeth and didn't want to cry out. But when Cyril withdrew his
fingers and shoved his cock all the way up my ass I howled and made
incoherent sounds begging him to take it out. Cyril was fucking me hard and
rough as he called out to the crowd, "I think the slave boy protests too
much. Look, he's got another boner already just from the thrill of getting
it up the ass."


The device in my mouth kept me from being understood and it left my mouth
open for invasion. One of Cyril's queeny friends quickly had his erection
on my tongue. But Mr. Fife politely pushed him aside. I was aghast when I
realized that Mr. Fife had an arm around my father's shoulder. My dad
standing right next to me as I was strapped to a horse and my body was
being pushed and pulled back and forth getting fucked by Cyril Fife!


Then I heard my father say, "I really don't think I could even do this."


"You owe it to the boy, Smith," Mr. Fife said sternly. "After I announced
his enslavement you inadvertently called him son. The best way to let a
newly enslaved boy know that his world has changed is for a former loved
one to use him. Besides, Smith," Mr. Fife said with a lecherous
chuckle. "It looks to me like you're boned up just watching."


"I-I d-don't know why I'm so hard like this, sir," my dad stammered. But
even as he said this I felt the fabric of his good suit pants rub across my
lips and my nose with the outline of a huge erection locked inside.


In spite of his protests, my father unzipped his pants and hauled out his
big hard hairy penis. He tugged his balls out of his fly as well. I had
seen my dad naked over the years growing up. I thought of the time we had
showered together after swimming at the Fife estate. But I had never seen
his cock erect like this. Before I had time to absorb that thought, I
tasted his pre-cum and the flesh of his dick on my tongue. Then he held
onto my ears and started to fuck in and out of my helpless mouth.


Cyril, the biggest homo in town, was fucking me in the ass. My own father
who had me enslaved less than two hours earlier was fucking my mouth. Cyril
howled and I felt his dick pulsating inside me and filling my guts with hot
cream. My father moaned softly and I felt the back of my throat coated with
the same sperm that had originally made me. To keep from choking I had to
swallow.


The next few hours were a blur. My mouth was used by Cyril's two fruity
friends and by Bobby Malone and most of the guys I'd played sports with at
school. Bobby made a point of asking Cyril to give him a call when my
asshole became available. Since I'd been a virgin upon my enslavement my
new master wanted my mouth to get experience taking cock, but wanted to
keep the use of my butthole restricted for a while.


I don't know how many hours went by before the crowd dispersed. I came out
of my blur and realized that Cyril was standing beside me, stroking my face
and my hair. I looked up at him and wondered if I looked as pathetic as I
felt. There seemed to be a wistful, almost sad look on his face as he said,
"Oh, Wally, you little fool. I had such a crush on you. I used to dream of
sucking your cock. There was a time I would've done just about anything to
please you, anything at all, even as recently as yesterday, Wally. But then
my father told me about my wonderful graduation surprise. You understand of
course that I would never suck the cock of a slave. Sucking cock is your
job now, slave boy."


The door opened and I heard Mr. Fife's voice. Cyril told his dad that he
and his friends were going to drive to the beach to watch the sun come
up. Mr. Fife asked permission to use the new slave and Cyril
laughed. Apparently up until now it had always been Cyril who had to ask
permission to use his father's property.


Looking in the mirror I realized that my father was standing beside
Mr. Fife. They were speaking in whispers. As they got closer I heard my dad
say, "I've never even done that before. Sure I've used slave boy mouths
before, but...." He was slurring his words, obviously more than a little
drunk.


Once again Mr. Fife insisted that my father needed to do this to help me
learn to be a proper slave. My father protested and once again Mr. Fife
pointed out that I had an erection and that my father also had an
erection. I watched in the mirror as my father removed all his clothes this
time. His cock was indeed sticking up hard in front of him. He pressed it
into my asshole and slid forward on the spunk that Cyril Fife had left
there.


My mouth was still blocked by the mouth guard so all I could do was moan
and endure it. I suppose Mr. Fife was right in his way. Having a naked
hairy middle-aged man plowing my ass with his large erection while I was
tied down to a horse would have surely convinced any boy that he was now a
slave. But with that naked hairy middle-aged man being my own father, I
felt as if my spirit was truly broken. My dad was pounding my hole now and
dripping sweat. He bent over so that his hairy chest was against my smooth
back. I could hear him panting in my ear.


"Please understand, boy," my dad said as his hips kept on pistoning. "He
ended up offering me three times the market rate for you, Wally. Your
brothers will be able to go to the best colleges. My retirement is all set
up with no worries." Then he gasped loudly and shoved his cock so hard
against me I felt his big belly slap the top of my ass cheeks, and his cock
was spewing cream deep inside me.


As my dad slowly pulled his cock out of my ass, he reached under me and
fondled my erect penis. Then he chuckled and said, "Besides, Wally, it
seems to me that you liked taking your old dad up your butt."


"A shame you didn't know about your former son's predilections long before
this, Smith," Mr. Fife said with a lecherous laugh. "Think of all the years
of pleasure you could've had with this fine little butt."


"Oh, no, never, sir," my father protested, stammering again how he could
never have done such a thing.


Mr. Fife replied, "You should check on your younger sons. They're both
quite cute, I understand. Maybe one or both of them likes cock as much as
Wally here."


My father's protests continued and Mr. Fife reacted by saying, "Yes, you're
right. Any use of their butts would lower the eventual sale price should
you decide to sell one or both of them."


It seemed like my father was a broken record, still protesting, "Oh, no,
never, sir." But Mr. Fife dismissed him with a wave of his hand and said,
"Not too long ago you said you would never consider selling Wally. Then
earlier this evening you said you would never use my new slave boy's
mouth. And now here you are cleaning your former son's ass juices off your
cock."


My father seemed chastened as he hurriedly pulled on his clothes and was
escorted out by Mr. Fife. Just as I was wondering whether I would stay
strapped down on the horse forever, Mr. Fife returned and started to undo
the bindings that held me in place. I slowly pulled myself off the
contraption, trying to rub some feeling back into my arms and
legs. Mr. Fife carefully pulled the mouth guard out and I ran my tongue
over my teeth and lips. The taste of male spunk was strong.


I swallowed and croaked out, "Th-thank you, sir."


Mr. Fife brushed his fingers through the hair on my head almost
lovingly. "You know slave rest position, boy? It's so simple. Everyone's
seen it."


I did my best. I put my hands together behind my back, spread my legs, and
bent my head down looking at the floor. The old man's big hands moved down
my body. He pinched at each nipple and said, "Damn, these are so flat on
your chest. Cyril will have to give you some titty exercises to do every
day to work these out bigger, boy."


He then produced the white briefs I had been wearing when I first arrived
at the party. I pulled them up my legs awkwardly, tucking my still erect
cock into the tight white fabric. How odd. The previous evening when I
dressed for the party, I had pulled on my new underpants and thought
nothing of it. My world had changed so much since then. Now I was grateful
for this small piece of cotton to cover my nakedness.


Mr. Fife led me to his bedchamber. It was grand, bigger than our entire
house. He stood in front of me and commanded me to undress him. I
unbuttoned and folded his shirt. Then I got down on the floor and undid his
shoes. I peeled down his socks. He caressed my face and said, "Kiss me
there, boy." I looked up at him and then back down at his feet. My stomach
twisted at the thought of my mouth on this old man's feet, but then I
remembered the flavor of cum already coating my tongue. I kissed the top of
his feet. He commanded me to use my tongue and clean between each of his
toes. I was a slave. This is what slaves did.


Mr. Fife stood up and I knew he wanted me to take down his pants. I could
see the outline of his large cock running down the leg of his pants. I
remembered seeing his penis when he had displayed it in the slave
emporium. But now I was the one on my knees in front of him. When I
finished folding his pants, his erection was sticking out of the fly of his
boxer shorts.


The big man caressed my face and said, "I don't need to keep you in a mouth
guard to service my cock, boy. You know what you are and what you have to
do. Right?"


My voice was barely a whisper as I said, "Sir, yes sir." Then I closed my
eyes and opened my mouth and my tongue made contact with the dripping head
of the fat man's hard cock. He gave me step-by-step instructions just as if
he was teaching a child how to ride a bike or how to swim. "Just tease the
head with yr tongue. Now close your lips around it, boy. Now use your
tongue to swish all around it. Now take a little more into your throat and
start to move your head back and forth."


Once he was sliding his thick cock in and out of my mouth he reached down
and kept touching my bottom through my white briefs. "I like you in your
tighty whities, Wally. You're not much bigger than when you visited here
years ago. You were always such a cutie. I noticed then how soft your lips
looked." He jabbed his fat erection toward the back of my throat and I felt
it pulsing and shooting cream. He held firmly to the back of my head so I
couldn't pull off. I swallowed as fast as I could.


Mr. Fife patted the bed as you might do to get a dog to jump up. I realized
he meant for me to get into the bed. When I did the heavyset underwear-clad
man got in and rolled on top of me. His arms were around me and he kissed
me on the mouth. That was a new shock for me and I forgot for a moment that
I was a slave. I tried to push him away, but then stopped and had a
horrified look on my face. He grinned and kissed me again, forcing his
tongue into my mouth. I didn't resist. What was the use? His mouth tasted
disgusting - of alcohol and cigars and rich food, and a certain old man
taste.


His big hand was feeling all over my white underpants. How was it possible,
when I was so disgusted by everything, that my cock was still fully
stiff. His thick fingers went up the leg opening of my briefs and pressed
against my butthole, slipping in easily with the slipperiness of the spunk
that was already there.


"That's your own daddy's sperm lubing you up, boy," the man said with the
most evil laugh I had ever heard. He took my hand and put it around his fat
hard cock. Then he whispered in my ear, "I bet you're wondering how an old
guy like me could be stiff again so soon after shooting in your mouth? I
took the same blue pill that I slipped in your drink and in your father's
drink!"


That explained a lot! Mr. Fife had slipped both my father and me a powerful
erection drug. This man had used my erection as justification to prove to
my father that I liked being a slave, that I liked servicing cock. And I
had gotten dicked because my father couldn't deny his own very stiff
erection. But it had all been part of Mr. Fife's plan.


I was rolled onto my belly on the big comfortable bed. Mr. Fife just pulled
down the back of my white briefs far enough to position his fat cock at my
rear entryway. He pulled my hips up forcing me to impale myself. I
whimpered and bit the pillow rather than cry out. He rode my ass, his big
hairy body pounding against my slim smooth body.


Master Cyril took me away to college with him a few weeks later. He lived
in a frat house that was all gay, all the boys wealthy enough to have their
own slaves. But somehow I was the most popular of the slaves. I was on
toilet duty at least two mornings a week. I got used to drinking the piss
of the queer frat brothers. Some of the mean ones liked to pull out of my
mouth in mid-stream and laugh as they pissed all over my face and hair. But
I became a well-trained slave and always said, "Thank you, sir," when they
were through with me.


My master kept me cock-caged so that I could not masturbate. In fact it was
painful to get an erection with the cage on. He usually kept me naked. In
the midst of an all-gay frat house, my body was teased and played with all
day long.


Master Cyril enjoyed fucking my ass, especially when he had an
audience. But most of the time he would settle for a blowjob. There were a
few times when he would come back to his room very drunk and he would take
off my cock cage to suck my cock and have me fuck his ass. On these
occasions he seemed to be playing out a fantasy where we were back in
middle school and I was his buddy sleeping over. I might have thought I
could never maintain an erection to stick my cock inside a guy's ass, but
after a month or more locked inside the cock cage, I could have boned up
for anything.


Apparently my father made a request that the Fife family not bring me back
to our town during school holidays. When I found out about this I was
grateful. It would save me the humiliation of being paraded as a naked
slave in front of old friends. But then I found that each school holiday I
was sent to stay with Cyril's Uncle Nigel. Nigel Fife had moved to the
all-gay nation of Eureka along the central California coast. As everyone
knows, only gays are allowed permanent residence as free citizens in
Eureka, though as they like to say, "We prefer our citizens gay and our
slave boys straight."


It's summer now, my second summer at Nigel Fife's estate in Eureka. I've
been here almost three months and Master Nigel has just informed me that I
will be staying here permanently. Apparently, Master Cyril is bored with me
and has acquired some "fresh meat" in his summer travels in South
America. Master Nigel asked me to write out this memoir and has given me
leave to talk about my experiences frankly from my perspective. He tells me
that he and his friends find such stories told by enslaved straight boys to
be "titillating."


Master Nigel has asked me to comment about servicing his older friends,
most in their forties and fifties, compared to servicing Master Cyril's
college-age friends. Since I'm not attracted to male bodies I can't see how
it would matter to me whether the cock I'm sucking is attached to a fit
young guy or an out-of-shape older man. I will say that I've found the gay
college boys much faster to be cruel. Many of Master Nigel's friends like
to hold me and caress me tenderly. Some will be playful with me and act as
if I'm still just a boy (I suppose to them I am a boy). Quite a few of them
have asked me to call them daddy or uncle or even grandpa when they hold me
on their laps and kiss me.


While it's inappropriate for a slave to express any preference about his
fate and a slave's desires certainly don't matter, I would have to say that
on reflection I'd just as well stay in Eureka as return to the gay
frathouse.


Master Nigel just reminded me to be sure to include my experience the
weekend before last. It was a fundraiser to help beautify the local
parks. I was put on the auction block, but only to be loaned out for the
weekend. Somehow, the organizers of the event had found a baseball uniform
similar to the one I had worn in high school. I was placed up on a platform
with a huge crowd of gays all gawking at me. They wanted to pretend that I
was a straight boy just being enslaved. I stood at attention as my baseball
uniform was stripped off me, till I was down to just my white briefs.


When the white briefs were peeled down my legs my cock popped up in full
erection. Of course I was erect given that this was the first time in
almost a month that my cock cage had been removed. Also, a strange thrill
ran through me. I remembered the nightmares I'd had when I was young -
dreams of having my underpants peeled down in front of a big crowd of horny
homosexuals. And here I was living out that very nightmare.


The man who bought me for the weekend was a tourist from back east. He told
me that he had a wife and kids and none of them knew about his gay desires,
and didn't even know he was in Eureka. Apparently he wasn't used to dealing
with slaves, because real slaveowners don't offer explanations. The man
showed me a picture of his teenage son and the boy looked a lot like me. He
had me dress up in his son's pajamas and call him dad while he pretended to
take me by surprise and rape me. Then he spent the rest of the time kissing
me and touching me and tenderly apologizing to me. He seemed to think he
had to justify himself to me, assuring me that he would never ever do
anything like that to his son in real life. I just kept repeating, "yes,
sir." Clearly he was not a person who was used to dealing with slaves.


One other interesting thing happened a few days ago. I was doing errands
for Master Nigel downtown and I passed the very high-tone slave market, our
local Bodoni & Felch. There was some new merchandise chained outside. I
suddenly heard someone call, "Wally, help me!" I looked up and saw that it
was Bobby Malone, naked, shaved, collared, and chained to a pillar. By the
time I turned Bobby had already been zapped with the slave prod and was
writhing and gasping. I hurried on my way without looking back again at
Bobby. When doing errands for his master, a slave must not dawdle or be
distracted.


THE END