Date: Wed, 13 Oct 2021 21:49:30 +0000 (UTC)
From: ropingtop@aol.com
Subject: Maxwell's Magic Camera - installment 3

I

The first round of photographs had been so successful for Mikhail and
Ivan that they were ready to go out "hunting" as they called it
immediately.  Ivan was the first of the two of them to have some
concerns. "Mike, you know, we maybe did things wrong yesterday?  Yes,
there's a lot of people in the university, but you think someone is gonna
look at the reports and say  "three people vanished from there in one
day," and begin asking questions?"
Ivan was lost in thought.
"I see your point.  I had some worries too.   We didn't check:  Were they
married?  Do they have children?  All of that can make someone more eager
to go find out what happened.  We gotta be aware of that."
"You're right.  And maybe... "  They put their heads together and decided
to "lay low" for a few days.  The three buyers, and the unsuccessful
ones, would probably spread the word about their enterprise.  Yes, they
COULD provide new "product" every day, but why should they?  It was too
risky.  Also, Ivan came up with the idea of "custom orders."
"You know, Mike:  advertise that if they give us the info on what they
want, and we can produce, then the price is... it's not 25k, but 40k.  We
can do that because there won't be any auctions.
"AH!  So if we find someone they like, no one knows but the buyer, and
us.  There's some security there.  GOOD PLAN!"
"And... no more than one grab from a site in a given day.  We can still
use the info on where there are lots of guys, but... only one.  And then
we don't go back for a while.
"YES YES YES.  We can't succeed if we don't avoid detection.  We'll put
the site back up for one day.  Three days from now.  After we decide on
where to hunt.
They decided that the museum was STILL a good idea: there were lots of
people there.  Whether men came who did not have family connections, was
another matter.  It was still worth a try:  if the photos didn't work
out, then there was no foul.  And who could question tourists taking
photos at a museum?
Also, they thought that hanging out outside one of the more popular gyms,
would not be a bad idea.  They could research which ones had "gay"
reputations.  To be sure, the husbands of anyone they snatched would be
looking for him (they thought), but they were only going to take one, and
they COULD do  "quality control."
They also decided that going to the business section of the city was a
good idea:  the weather was still warm, so no one was wearing gloves, and
they could see wedding rings, or their absence.  They had their targets,
and they would separate the hunts.
When the website went up, it contained the following statement:
"Dear Potential Clients:  Thank you for your interest in our material.
It was well beyond what we hoped for, and we were inundated with
requests.  If you did not succeed in an auction, or you did not have time
to see what was available and missed out, we have an alternative.  We are
going to a "special order" system.  You tell us what you're looking for,
and we'll look for you.  We will let you know when we have at least one
alternative for you.  If we agree, you will provide payment upon receipt
of your merchandise.  Time is of the essence in these transactions, so we
ask that you be prompt.  Thanking you in advance  "The Happiness Team."

They received their first request within 3 hours.  It was a very well
written message, clearly from someone educated: "Good day, Happiness
Team.  I read your website with interest.  Perhaps you can help me.  My
name is Nate.  You would probably recognize me if you saw me in the
papers.  In any event, I'm looking for someone no more than half my age
(I'm 60).  Dark hair, dark eyes.  He should be intelligent and he
shouldn't be too skinny.  I like a little flesh.  I'm 6'1", so I'd like
him to be shorter than that.  If by some chance you find something that
may interest me, let me know.   Thank you, Nate."
Mike and Nate looked at each other.
"Intelligent?  Can't go back to the university yet.  Try the museum?"
Mike asked.
"It's as good a choice as any.  How are we going to be able to tell if
he's intelligent?"
It turned out to be easier than they thought.

IV
Sebastian Fox had finished his PhD  about 5 months before he got his job
as an assistant curator and docent at the Museum.  He certainly was
qualified for the job, having defended the dissertation "with
distinction."  The university had offered him a job, teaching one of
their fundamental courses for freshmen, but he declined.  The museum was
looking for someone who was qualified in his area (French impressionism),
and he applied.  It was a tedious process, and he began to regret turning
down the university job.  Then, he got the call:  if he wanted the job,
he could have it.  It would involve a fair amount of routine, low level
curatorship, like tracing ownership of paintings, but it would also
involve giving tours:  3-4 of them a day, to different groups.
RIGHT UP HIS ALLEY!  Sebastian had been shy as a young boy, and had
worked, HARD, to be more forward.  He had also been a heavy kid and,
while he fought the "battle of the bulge" as he called it, every day, he
was winning.  He cut a fine figure in his blue suit, his red tie, his
white shirt.  "MON DIEU"  he would joke:  if he were leading tours on
French painting, he should wear the tri colors, oui?
He was leading a tour when Ivan and Mikhail got to the museum.  They
walked around, snapping pictures, and then editing:  they had decided to
do ONE hunt each time they went out  (they had 7 requests from that one
post), and so they avoided the thinner blond guys who seemed so
prevalent.
Mikhail, who had studied French in Europe, heard Sebastian's accent as he
described a painting to a group of blue haired ladies.
"IVAN!  IVAN!  " he tried whispering, not too successfully.  "IS THAT OUR
MAN?"  Ivan looked up as Sebastian was pushing his bangs out of his
face.
"NICE FIND KID.  NICE FIND!  Let me get the shot.  He's right in front of
that painting, so...."  the phone clicked, and they inspected the
photo.
"GOOD ONE.  You can see he's got a bit of a belly, and you can see his
smile.  "
"Let's hang around, talk to him  Maybe get some info for Mr Nate."
When the tour broke up, Mikhail approached and began speaking in his
rusty French.  Sebastian answered.
"You are not a native speaker Monsieur.  Like me.  "  Mikhail had broken
the ice and the three of them had a conversation.

At the end of the conversation, Ivan wrote to Nate:
"Dear Mr. Nate.  I am sending a photograph to you.  We saw this young man
at the Museum.  He's 28, has a PhD, and speaks French.  If you are
interested, let us know.  "
They heard nothing for a half hour.  Then a message came in.
"HE'S PERFECT. TELL ME WHEN TO PICK HIM UP."
Ivan looked at the date stamp on the photo.  They had taken it at 11:15.
"We want to do some final checks.  Do you think you could pick him up on
an hour's notice?"
"YES!  ABSOLUTELY.  I WANT HIM.  GET HIM FOR ME!"
"Ok partner, let's see if we can make Nate happy."
They summoned Sebastian at 8:30 that night, as he was trolling yet
another gay website looking for a date. ANY date.  He'd top, he'd bottom,
he just wanted to get his rocks off.
"I've never heard of that address.  What's there?"  He thought to himself
as the summons came through.  He had worked until 7, and had just had a
quick dinner.  He had taken off his jacket and tie, and pushed back his
sleeves, but he hadn't even changed yet.  Still, Sebastian put on his
leather jacket, called a car, and headed off to Ivan and Mikhail's.  He
knocked on the door.
"I'm sorry to disturb you gentlemen, but... I may have the wrong
address.  I'm supposed to meet someone here?"
"No, you've come to the right place Sebastian.  We've been waiting for
you.  Your date isn't here yet.  Please come in. "   He pointed to a seat
and began chatting him up.
"Do you recognize us Sebastian?"
Sebastian looked puzzled and then... OH YEAH.  WAIT.  You were the guys
at the museum today?  Ivan smiled.
"FUCK . What am I doing here and..." He tried to get up out of the seat
and found he couldn't.
"Why can't I get up ? What's going on?"
"In due time, Sebastian, in due time.  For now, we have some questions to
ask."  They found out he was in fact single and not seeing anyone, his
family lived in France, and there were no relatives in the state.
"You'll excuse me, Sebastian ? I have to make a call." Ivan asked.
"Yeah, but... why the hell can't I get up?"
"Nate will explain it to you"
"Nate?  who's Nate."
"He'll be here in half an hour"  Ivan came back into the room.  They made
idle chat, ignoring Sebastian's concerns about not being able to get up.
 When the bell rang again,  it was Nate.
Yes, he DID look familiar.  Wasn't he the guy who..."  He saw Sebastian
sitting on the chair. "GEEZ. He's perfect!" he whispered, and walked
over.
"You're Sebastian? I'm Mr. Nate.  More correctly, Master Nate."
Sebastian looked at him and felt... where had this man been.  He could
get out of the chair.
"How are you doing Sir?  I'm Sebastian Fox."  Nate laughed.
"Well, Sebastian, you're certainly a fox.  You know why I'm here?"
"Uh, am I your date Sir?" Nate smiled.
"In a manner of speaking.  My car is outside.  Shall we go?"
"Yes sir. If that's what you'd like to do."
"First, put your hands behind your back."'
"Yes sir."  Nate slipped metal cuffs on Sebastian's wrists.  He put two
large stacks of money in front of Ivan.
"Count it.  40k in two 20k packets."
"I think we can trust you Mr.  Bracken."  Nate smiled.
"Well played.  A subtle hint of blackmail always works."
"Won't be necessary if it's all here, Sir."
"It's all there. " He turned to Sebastian.  "Let's go boy.  We have MUCH
to talk about."
"Yes sir."
Mike looked at Ivan.  "MUCH EASIER than I thought it would be."

When the spell of the camera wore off the next day, sebastian found
himself tightly bound at the ankles the knees, his wrists behind his
back, a solid coil of ropes around his chest, and another rope binding
his elbows. There was a huge wad of cloth in his mouth, and plastic tape
over his mouth.
"mmmmmmmmmmmph" he muttered and then, when he found he REALLY couldn't
move,  tried to scream.
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH"  Nate walked in.  He was carrying a paddle
"I really prefer a quiet house Sebastian.  And I find that nothing quiets
a boy down, like a little bout of bastinado." Sebastian felt his loafers
being removed.
"Will you be quiet?" Nate smacked the paddle against his hand.  Sebastian
nodded 'yes'.
"EXCELLENT.  We can begin then."

V

He went by the name of Damian Feuerstein, but his real name was John
Jones.  Damian had run away from home when he was 16, after another
beating from his stepfather for  - GEEZ, there had been so many , he had
forgotten:  was it for smoking marijuana, or for shoplifting, or... the
big no no - sucking dick?  He found that there was no lack of dick to
suck in NY, no lack of marijuana, and while shoplifting was harder, he
found it easy - at first.  Now, though, his face was known to most stores
worth stealing from in NY, and Damian saw his shoplifting days ending:
no more Cartier watches, or designer jackets.  He needed a day job, and
he found one, as a porter at one of NY's high end buildings.  He was
working "off the books" because the superintendent liked him, and Damian
would throw him a blow job about once a month.  That was his day job:  at
night, he hustled.  Or, rather, he "escorted."  Damian had found a career
as a "Bottom/versatile" hustler  "who's the boy your mother told you to
stay away from."  Bright blue eyes, wild blond hair , a rangy build that
made one think of an alley cat, he was hot as hell.  EVERYONE wanted to
tame him, and no one could.
That was before Philip.  Philip was obese, with a receding hairline, and
rather demanding in his sexual needs.  They had gone unsatisfied until
his mother had died and, as the only child, he inherited a nice sum of
money.  He didn't look for love, because he wouldn't find it, and he knew
it.  What he looked for, was release:  a hot blond ass on a skinny guy,
and a warm mouth that would accommodate his less than average length.
His message was not as well written as Nate's but his requirements were:
blond.  Young or young looking (but legal). Blue eyes.  A kid who needs a
firm hand. "
Ivan and Mikhail had found Damian after they had spent the day snapping
shots in midtown.  They hadn't found  "the right match" for any of their
clients, but as they headed to the subway, they saw Damian hanging out in
front of the building where he worked, talking with the doorman.
"I think.... I think... we might have found Philip's match."  Damian's
shirt billowed around him:  ALL his shirts did.  He was too thin, and not
built.  In any event, he preferred to be naked.  Still, from all of that
material, the two guys saw:  a match.
"CLICK" went the camera. At that moment, Damian thought a mosquito had
bitten him, but he found no blood.  He shrugged it off, while Ivan and
Mikhail made their way back to their place.  When they got there, they
sent Damian's picture to Philip.  This time they only included a "?" with
it.  They got back a "thumbs up" emoji.    Now, they had to do the
planning.
"When can you be here, Philip?"
"When is he available?"
"Let's wait for dark. 9pm? "
"9pm it is.  I hope this isn't false advertising..."
Mike brought up the photo of Damian and spoke
"You have an appointment at this address:  8:30pm.
At 8:30, Damian was there.  He hadn't changed out of work clothes.
"Yo, Damian here. You didn't say what you wanted so... Why don't we get
that straightened out, boss? " He looked behind Ivan and saw Mikhail.
"HEY LOOK.  I do threesomes, but the meter starts at a different number
guys. "  He felt a soft, cold hand on his shoulder.
"No threesomes for you tonight, son.  And it's shameful that you would
think about that."  Damian whirled around and saw Philip's smiling face.
"Sorry Sir.  I misunderstood. I didn't know YOU were my date."  Philip
put his arm around Damian.
"Why don't you go out to that car?  The beat up one.  Just sit in the
passenger side."
"Yes sir."  Damian went to the car, the way he had so many times.  Philip
was smiling and he was leaking too.
"Is he disease free?  Did you check?"
"No guarantees."
"Well, I'm not sure..."
"Then let him out of the car, take your money and go."
"GOD. He's so... He's so BEAUTIFUL.  He looks like a fallen angel."
"That he does"  Mikhail added.  "If you weren't so interested, I'd think
about keeping him for myself. "
Ivan looked at him with a quizzical expression.
"You mean.. You mean I could lose him?"
"Very easily.  Right now, it's up to you.  Pay up, or give him back.
Your choice.
"You don't guarantee disease free?"
"Did you see it on the website, Mr.?"
Philip shook his head.  "What's coming to this world?"   Then he put down
the money.
"I expect there's no refunds either?"
"Nope.  All sales final."
He sighed.  "I hope mother approves."
As he got into the car, he patted Damian on the leg.
"You ticklish kid?"  Damian squirmed.
"A little.  Sir."
"Well, maybe I'll tickle you.  A little. "
A day later,  Damian was laying on Philip's bed, buck naked.  He was
screaming.
"FUCK STOP. STOP. MY FEET. MY FUCKING FEET. MY RIBS.  SHIT MAN.  WHAT DO
YOU WANT.  TAKE MY ASS AGAIN.  JUST STOP."
Philip leaned down to Damian's ear.  "You are so FUCKING BEAUTIFUL.  All
you need... is some discipline.." He smiled as he brought over nipple
clamps, and Damian started screaming  "NO.  NO.  AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH"

VI
The final "hunt" for Mikhail and Ivan took them to the gay gym, as they
planned.  This note was from someone named Chris.
"Hey.  Chris here.  I'm just out of a relationship. I bottomed for ten
years, when I wanted to top.  Now I want to top.  I wanna top a body
builder.  BIG.  BIG MUSCLES  Nice face.  Particular fetish of mine:
bald.  Can ya help me?"
The note struck Mikhail.  He loved it.  He wrote back. "We'll do what we
can.  Don't be too far away from your phone."
He and Ivan looked enough like tourists that they could pass in "boys
town" without anyone noticing anything odd.  Clearly, they were visitors,
maybe a tourist couple, who knew?  They were standing across the street
from one of the major gay gyms in the city.
"I don't know about the bald part, but the rest:   shouldn't be hard.
After about an hour, they found what they were looking for.  Mark Skipper
came out of the gym after his second workout of the day.  He was not a
kid:  Chris hadn't specified age, so they weren't worried.  He was
wearing a red cap, a tank top, and shorts when he came out, carrying a
gym bag.  It was hot, and he took off his hat so he could wipe the
sweat... .from his bald head.
"BINGO"  Mike whispered, as he took the photo.   They brought the photo
into closeup mode, to look for a ring:  there was one, but it was a
college ring. Harvard.
"Smart too.  Ha ha."
"At his age, he doesn't need a college ring," Ivan answered Mark.
"Did you see his nipples pointing out of his shirt?"
"DAMN RIGHT I did.  Too bad we didn't get any nipple fetishists.  We
COULD do some kind of auction
Mikhail sent off the photo.
"Hey Chris.  You didn't give an age range.  If you want a kid, we'll keep
looking .  If not... how's this guy?"
Chris texted back.
"I just shot a load.  I want the next one to be in his ass."
"So, you'll take him?  "
"I'll take him."
Mikhail smiled at Ivan.  "I think we've had a busy day.  Now let's get
the bull to the china shop."   Again, they got home, and again, they
summoned Mike:  party at..... Business casual."  Ivan threw that in
because he thought Mark would look better in that style.  When he showed
up at the door, he saw he was right:  navy blue button down, sleeves
rolled to show his biceps, khakis.
"FUCKING HOT"  Chris let out from behind them.
"Mark, your date got here a little early.
"Hey, I'm Mark.  Nice to meet you."  The guys could see Mark trying to
figure out what was going on.
"Why don't we head out, Mark?  The sooner we leave, the more time we have
together. "
"Sounds good,"  he smiled.  He didn't see the cash sitting on the kitchen
table where Chris, Ivan and Mikhail had had their coffee.
"I think he'll be very happy,"  Mike said and indeed, Chris was.  If you
checked at his loft a day later, you would have found Mark, naked, and
stretched out on the bed, with a penis gag in his mouth. Chris' hand was
on Mark's cock, edging him as he had been for the last half hour, and his
mouth was licking at Mark's nipple:  a hot spot he had found about five
hours earlier.
"Ready for another round big boy?"  Mark shook his head no and Chris
laughed.
"Ha ha.  TOO DAMN BAD"   When Mark resisted bending his knees, Chris
tickled Mark's feet and his legs folded like a cheap chair.  Chris' had
ten inches when he was hard, and he was hard.  And for the third time
since they had met, he was inside Mark.

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Our boys are gonna do one last hunt gentle readers, and then... Oh, the
fun we'll have with nine stories playing at the same time.  Don't like
one?  Go to the next.

TO BE CONTINUED