Date: Sun, 15 May 2022 20:24:07 -0400
From: mr.evan.andrews@gmail.com
Subject: Hunters and Hunted: Thrall Market -- celebrity -- science fiction or fantasy

Hunters and Hunted
Thrall Market
By Evan Andrews 2022


This is a fan fiction.

This story is part of a larger cycle of stories, The Hunters and Hunted
series, and follows chronologically after "Enthralled".

Despite similarities in names and relationships the story is set in neither
the Supernatural-verse nor the True Blood-verse nor the Buffy-verse. Those
faces were just the ones I had in mind as I wrote. The thrall is being
played by porn star Cameron Foster. Rafe and his crew originally appeared
in NPhillyDogg's "Rural Sex Slaves" series. The story depicts males in
sexual situations with other males. If this offends you, if you are
underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading
now. Thank you.

If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please contribute to
keeping Nifty going at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html


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Three days after they were Enthralled, Dan and Archer were formally
presented in the Club. Lots were drawn, and two lucky vampires took
possession of the new studs for the evening. Hannibal spooned Archer while
his undead dick probed the boy's heat, and James languished on a chaise as
Dan deep-throated his shaft. The other Masters in residence were forced to
make do with the regular thralls. (`Who are still handsome enough to make
any man's balls churn.' Dean thought.)

"Pike," Eric, the master vampire, suddenly called his senior squire to his
side.

Two of the other attending squires, brothers Sam and Dean, watched as the
lanky young ex-hunter came to stand by a kneeling Chinese-American thrall.

"Master?" Pike said.

"What is Kevin here doing back in the Club? He can't be recovered from his
last tour of duty yet."

"Master..." Pike was stammering.

"Out with it."

"There are just too many guests in the Manor," Pike said bluntly, and then
quickly added, "That is, there are more than the usual rotations can
handle. So we're having to rush thralls through the recovery period."

Eric looked at his squire, assessing him, reading the truth in his
words. Meanwhile the other assembled vampires listened with interest. Some
master vampires would have a tantrum at this point, as if pointing out the
insufficiency of thralls was somehow an attack on their leadership. Luckily
for Pike, Eric was made of better stuff.

"So," Eric said calmly, "Since it is likely we're going to be entertaining
at the current level for a while, what would you suggest?"

"Master, the stable just needs more thralls," Pike said simply.

"Excellent!" Dallas said, "We can..."

"WE," Eric said, forcibly now, "Will restrain our baser instincts if we
want to retain the privilege of frequenting the Club. Providing thralls for
my guests is my responsibility as host."

Dallas might not be the most subtle bloodsucker on Earth, but even he
realized he'd crossed a line. He bowed his head.

"Of course, Eric," he said, "I meant nothing..."

"Of course you didn't," Eric said as he stroked Kevin's hair, musing.

"Oz," he said, "Come to me later this evening. I have some wheels to set in
motion."

From his place alongside Sam and Dean, Oz nodded.

"As you will, master," the redhead said.

"Until then...," Eric said, and he pulled Kevin up onto the chaise and
kissed the young man deeply. "Waste not."

Sam and Dean watched, their own cocks coming to attention, as Kevin slid
into the master vampire's embrace, and Dean wondered what plans the master
vampire had—beyond ravaging the handsome thrall this evening.

@@@@@@@

Sam sat in the back of the Range Rover and watched the rural squalor roll
past.

His master, Eric, sat beside him, deep in the napping state that most
vampires assumed during the daylight hours. Two of the Brotherhood silently
occupied the front seats: Alcide driver and Ethan shotgun – not that Sam
had ever seen one of the Brothers (they preferred that term to werewolf) in
possession of anything as crass as a shotgun.

In just these few days, Sam and Dean had both slid into certain roles in
the Manor, especially when they were taken on an outing. Sam got taken
along when the vampire he was accompanying required supporting
organizational and information-gathering skills. Dean got taken out when a
hunk with an air of menace closely matching the Brothers' was
required. What Sam was doing here and now, though, had him thoroughly
confused. He couldn't imagine anything out here that would require his
skills. They were deep in the country, out of cellphone range, and even the
GPS could make no sense of these rural dirt roads. Thankfully, Alcide
looked like he knew exactly where he was going.

A half hour to forty minutes later, the Rover nosed back an overgrown drive
and stopped in the shade in front of a run-down travesty of rural
vernacular architecture that was covered with a comforter of honeysuckle
and Virginia creeper. A redneck that looked to be in his mid-30s sat in a
dilapidated rocking chair on the perilous porch, watching them approach.

"Master," Sam said, touching Eric's shoulder, "I think we're here."

`Wherever here is,' the young man thought to himself.

The redneck stood up and walked into the sunlight as Eric put on his shades
and hat and stepped out of the Rover into the shade. Sam and Ethan got out,
too, while Alcide turned the Rover around.

"You're late," the hick said.

"Tell Alcide that," Eric said, pointing at the Rover, "If you dare. He was
driving, and I'm sure he'd love to hear from you how he could have done
better. Am I right, Ethan?"

"Alcide always enjoys that kind of discussion, boss," Ethan said, and he
favored the redneck with one of THOSE smiles, full of teeth. The hick took
a step back. Brothers' smiles could reassure, but they were more likely to
put a heavy dose of the frighteners on a person.

"Hrmf," the redneck cleared his throat. "Well, follow me then."

He led Eric (and Sam) not to the run-down house but towards an old
springhouse, buried in the side of the hill. Ethan wandered along with
them, outside of the redneck's reach but close enough to act if called on
to. Cool air wafted out from inside the springhouse, and a trickle that
might someday aspire to be a brook ran out the door. The redneck bent his
head and walked inside, followed by Eric. Sam glanced at Ethan.

"After you?"

Ethan shook his head, "No way. This is bloodsucker shit, and this Brother's
not having anything to do with it—unless you need a rescue. But you
better hurry up, little hunter, unless you want to get in trouble."

Eric and the redneck, who introduced himself as Rafe, were waiting by a
travesty of a door, and, when Sam caught up with them, Rafe pushed the door
open.

Behind it, a short corridor (in surprisingly good repair) led to a
subterranean chamber, but the word chamber hardly did it justice. The place
was a luxury suite like you'd find in a ritzy hotel, large enough almost to
be an apartment. There was a lounge with comfortable sofa, loveseat, and
chairs; a kitchenette with a fully-stocked bar and dining nook; and a
rather palatial bedchamber—all open-plan. (Home Design TV would be
pleased to hear that.)

"I don't see any merchandise," Eric said, pleasantly enough unless you knew
enough to hear the impatience lurking beneath. Sam had been in the Manor
long enough to recognize many of these subtle hints, and he knew an
impatient vampire was dangerous.

"Keep your pants on," Rafe drawled, "The boys're getting it all cleaned up
before they bring it along. Beer?"

Eric declined, but he gave Sam permission to indulge. Whatever merchandise
Rafe had, Sam thought as he took a deep swallow, he'd better get it up here
pronto.

Then a disguised door opened in one of the walls, a door to a small
elevator.

Two more rednecks stood in the opening behind a completely naked young
man. The rednecks (one burly with short chopped dirty blonde hair, a
goatee, and mustache and the other shaggy-headed and clearly a man you
didn't fuck with unless you had a couple of werewolves as backup) pushed
the boy out into the room. The merchandise had arrived.

The boy was in his early 20s, blond, and had the long hair you'd expect to
find on someone that hadn't gotten to a barber for a while. A beard that
was a stage or two beyond the stubble that was in style lined his
jaw. Handsome as a movie-star, the potential thrall was tall and muscular
without straying into bodybuilder territory. He was freshly showered and
groomed. Lucky for them, Eric liked long hair and beards on his thralls
– and Sam finally grasped that this boy must be why they had come to
this piece of pastoral squalor.

Sam had heard of operations like this, places where unsuspecting men who
wouldn't be missed right away were kidnapped and "trained" to be sex
slaves. It was a bad thing, and he and Dean would have gone after
shit-stains like this if they hadn't been outside what the brothers always
considered a hunter's traditional jurisdiction. Clearly, Eric was not above
going to the underground (literally) to get bloodthralls for the Manor if
that's what it took.

They all watched the boy as he took in his surroundings. Clearly, the
comfortable appointments threw him for a loop, but when his eyes fell on
Eric, his jaw dropped, and his cock rose. Eric had that effect on men when
he wanted to.

"This is Troy," Rafe said. "I hope he meets your exacting standards.

Eric caught the boy with his piercing eyes. Though the master vampire said
nothing, the slave backed up and fell onto his back on the bed without
having a hand was laid on him nor an order given — at least not yet. It
was like he knew exactly what Eric wanted, and perhaps he did. Vampires
were reported to have abilities Sam hadn't yet run into.

Eric gestured at his squire and said, "Sam, go and fuck that boy for
me. Fuck him good."

Eric's speech had acquired the strange cast it did when his fangs
descended. A glance confirmed to Sam that they had and also told him what
sort of fucking the master required. This was not going to be simply a
"test drive" of a sex-slave's body. This was the Enthrallment Ritual, and
since the blond, Troy, was going to leave here a bloodthrall, the fucking
had to take him to the edge of sanity. Sam smiled. Yeah, he could do that.

Sam crossed the room, kicking away shoes and dropping clothes as he
went. He could read the boy's face. The blond was absolutely riveted by
Sam's body as it was slowly revealed.

`For what that's worth,' Sam thought cynically. `Faking lust is probably
one of the first lessons these slavers pound (literally) into their
products.'

When Sam finally reached the bed, the master vampire said, "Go ahead and
fuck him in every position you can think of, Sam. I want to know he's
worthy."

"My pleasure, Master."

Sam climbed up onto the bed and began to give Troy's body its test
drive. Spreading the blond's legs wide, Sam took position and forced his 8
inch cock up the ready ass. Starting the session with a simple but rather
intense missionary fuck (which Sam figured must be a walk in the park after
the training Troy had likely endured), at Eric's command the squire went on
to do the nasty in whatever position the vampire called for. Troy lived up
to Sam's expectations. He took cock both orally and anally without
hesitation or complaint, and his face betrayed the lust building in his
broken-to-slavery mind.

(For his part, Troy, a kidnapped junior executive, after weeks of being
bred down by men who just wanted to break him by repeated rape, fucking him
hard and fast, was impressed by Sam's endurance, by his ability to hold off
cumming, and by his obvious presence in the act at all times. Several of
Troy's trainers had screwed him like they were machines – bored
machines, bored boring machines. This guy was different. Just when Troy
knew that any of the trainers would have been blowing a hot load inside him
before handing him over to one of his buddies to breed, Sam was able to
gather himself, assert control, and then start off on a fresh round of
man-ramming. Not just that, though. Sam was fucking for Troy's pleasure as
well. A true novelty for slave trainees in the Bunker.)

Finally Sam pushed Troy flat on his back on the bed and, turning round to
face the room, crouched over the blond's head and forced his cock into the
slave's mouth and throat. Troy rolled with the punch, or punches rather,
accommodating the length of Sam's man-steel in his throat and taking his
face-fucking like a trooper.

Sam pulled out some time later, leaving Troy exhausted and breathless, his
face awash in saliva, precum and snot. A pair of heavy balls rubbed over
the blond's slimy face, and he opened his mouth to admit them. One of the
younger trainers had taught Troy how to teabag, and he now rolled one orb
and then the other with his tongue as Sam bent over and began to pump
Troy's slave cock.

`Fuck!' Troy thought. `Can this be real? Am I really going to get to cum?!'

It seemed so. Sam skillfully stroked Troy's rod, teasing, slowly pushing
the blond's nuts closer and closer to giving up their bounty. Suddenly Sam
felt the boy's face scrunch up, and the slave's cock put on a spectacular
show, the length pulsing and jerking in Sam's hand, firing off rope after
rope of pent-up sperm until his belly and chest were awash in white
goo. When the boy was drained, Sam pulled his sack away from Troy's
practiced tongue and jerked out his own load so that Troy's chest was
crossed with two spermy splatter patterns.

Eric who had been watching the action with eagerness now stepped across to
the bed and flogged his cock until his own cum joined the other two
loads. Then he raked sharp nails across the flesh of Troy's belly, not
doing any real damage, of course, but leaving a trail of scratches that
bled more than they ordinarily would have. Troy gasped at the novel pain
(the trainers had beaten him but never set out to draw blood this way), and
his blood welled up from the shallow scratches to mix with the cum
decorating his body.

Eric leaned over and ran his tongue across Troy's body, savoring the
mixture of hot fluids and turning Troy on again with his
tongue-action. Once Eric had taken his fill of the combined fluids, he
called on Sam to enjoy what was left and continue to tease the slave. Sam
flicked a tongue across the goo (the first time he'd been allowed to) and
relished the salty taste, if not as much as Eric had, at least enough to
groan with pleasure. Meanwhile, he offered up finger-loads of the
pink/white slime to Troy himself who suckled on the blood- and cum-soaked
fingers like they were covered in chocolate syrup.

While Sam and Troy enjoyed their treat of blood and cum, Eric crawled up
between Troy's legs, spread them again, and started licking at the boy's
drained balls.

"Oh, please!" the blond slave moaned, feeling his nads start to churn
again. "Yes! That feels sooo goood!"

Troy had early on in his captivity figured out what the trainers were
doing. He (and his ridesharing coworkers who had doubtless followed similar
journeys into sexual submission) would in all probability end up in a male
whorehouse somewhere since why else would they be training them like this?
Troy even (when he finally broke) accepted that that bordello was where his
life would end once he was no longer worth fucking. But this... He never
imagined anything like this. The taste of blood and cum combined, though
freaky, sent a wave of warmth through his body, and when Eric sank his
fangs into Troy's femoral artery, the blond's world changed forever. As
Eric sucked, Troy opened his eyes wide, he found himself staring at Sam
who, smiling, proceeded to kiss him. Hard. To Troy, it was marvelous, and
he never wanted it to stop. He almost came again. When Eric rose at last
from between the boy's thighs, Troy could only stare at him with worship in
his eyes.

Sam smiled, remembering his recent recruitment into servitude. Well, why
should the thrall not look on the vampire with adoring eyes. Eric was their
master after all.

@@@@@@@@@

While Sam cleaned the new thrall up, toweling (not washing) away the
remains of the blood and cum from the firm young body to make him
presentable for transport, Eric concluded his business with Rafe. Gold,
actual gold coins, changed hands as the redneck did his best to conclude
the sale as quickly as he could. (Sam took note of the amount exchanged, so
he could later have a benchmark if the vampires ever again bought a
sex-slave to Enthrall.) The ritual of Enthrallment had clearly unnerved
Rafe, and unnerved his trainers as well. (Obviously they were used to less
complicated auditions for their human merchandise.) The shaggy bear of a
man, Travis, made for the elevator as soon as he could, and Sam was sure
the not-quite-so-shaggy blond, Bufford, only stuck around for fear of
leaving his boss alone with men he clearly considered to be dangerous
nut-jobs.

Clothes had been set out for the slave, but Eric turned up his nose at
them.

"Those rags are unfit for one of my bloodthralls. Leave them. I have better
things in the Rover," he said. "Troy, you can dress outside."

Still in wonder, the naked Troy followed Eric and Sam up the corridor and
out through the springhouse into the open air where he blinked, all but
blinded by the glare of a sun he hadn't seen in weeks.

"Master," the blond asked meekly, using the term for the first time as he
pulled on the clothing Eric produced (chinos, a polo shirt, and boat shoes
with no socks—no underwear), "What now?"

"Now, my boy," Eric said, pulling the boy's head around for a kiss, "Now we
go home, and I will feast upon your delectable vitality."

"That will be nice," Troy said, though Sam could tell the boy had no real
idea what Eric was talking about.

"It will," agreed Sam.

Meanwhile in the front seat, the Brothers rolled their eyes at one another.

 "Carrion malarky," Ethan muttered, and Alcide nodded before putting the
rover in gear and rolling back down the drive towards civilization.