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Warning: This erotic fiction contains sexual experiences between fictional males. If this is not your thing, leave now. Furthermore, any similarity to any person, place or thing living or dead is merely coincidental.
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Story codes: M, MM, SM, bd
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Born -- Chapter Sixteen
Dad's body was shackled with his arms over his head and his legs spread wide with feet firmly planted on the stage by the big goons. There was so much stimulation going on. There was my naked, cuffed Dad with a hard on in front of an audience. There were these stunning examples of extreme masculinity in the handlers. There was the auctioneer who was making all sorts of comments about the meat on the stage.
One of the handlers left the stage for a minute coming back with a bullwhip. He slammed the whip down on the stage making a huge sound. The audience was hushed. "Alright, Ladies and Gentlemen, watch this." The emcee beckoned.
The handler lit into Dad's back. Normally one would think that a scream would come from the recipient. This was not the case. Dad moaned. I was thinking, `what the fuck is this?' Dad's cock was so hard the penis was standing almost completely vertical. Whack! Dad cried out in what I was beginning to understand as ecstasy, not pain. Whack! Dad was becoming more and more sensual. His body was moving as if he was in the throes of passion with another person. Whack! Dad started a low groan that could only mean one thing. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Dad's cock shot a massive stream of hot, white slave jizz. There were easily six or seven spurts of cum. Dad collapsed hanging by his arms with no strength left to stand. He was in a post-orgasm state oblivious to the surroundings at hand. I remembered what Dad had said about the whip when I fucked him last month: "The whip has been my greatest friend. The whip has taught me that I am an object to be used by humans."
The handlers dowsed his back with alcohol to avoid infection from the open wounds, which did make Dad scream taking him out of the post-coitus bliss and back to the moment; his sale. "Now, wasn't that something Ladies and Gentlemen. Bet you haven't seen that before." There was a round of applause and the bidding started fast and furious.
I looked over to my right and saw two men bidding aggressively. They looked incredibly familiar but I couldn't place them. Everyone was semi-disguised and the audience lighting was darker than the stage. I watched and watched as several were going strong for Dad, yet, ultimately the two men that I thought I knew got the winning bid. When they stood to talk to the cashier and leave the arena to claim their prize that's when I realized they were the caterers' that I worked for on-call and the ones that worked my ringing initiation.
"Thank you gentlemen for that bid and now there is a lunch provided before we continue with the afternoon festivities." The emcee announced.
Dad's Master turned to me and said, "Let's get out of here."
I didn't say a word just following him out the front door into the Master's waiting automobile. The Master was in as much of a hurry as I was to get out of there.
"So, you ok kid? What were your impressions?" He asked.
"Frankly, I'm shell shocked. I had no idea this stuff actually went on. This has been eye opening. My initial reaction is that of complete disgust. I have always masturbated to stories about slave auctions, but seeing one in reality takes away any of the glamour leaving me feeling angry that this stuff goes on unchecked."
All the Master would say was, "Well, now you know the truth from fantasy."
We were silent the rest of the way back to my apartment. As the car pulled over to the curb in the exact spot the car service used to pick me up to go to Mr. Brown's, I told him how much I appreciated him being there with me today. That I knew I could never have coped on my own.
"You're welcome, kid. See ya around." Was all he said. We never saw each other again. I always wondered why he was in such a hurry to leave and, quite frankly, why he didn't hit on me? I'm a hot bottom with slave credentials. What was wrong with me?
I got out of the car and walked into my building to my little studio I called home. I was glad to be home. I never wanted to see a place like that ever again. I was going to have to do some serious reevaluation of my sexual priorities. And, what was I going to do about working for the men that bought my Dad?
I ate a little lunch before sitting down in front of my computer to write. I had learned that writing cleared my head back in the days with Mr. Brown and actually led to my solution to the Mr. Brown situation. However, I suddenly became overwhelmed by horniness and instead of being responsible and dealing with my feelings, I delved into the dark recesses of the Internet looking at the worst of the worst slave torture sites. I stayed on the sites for hours bating my cock edging close to climax, then stopping staring at the screen with images of naked men being abused.
The one thing I loved about masturbating now was having my rings. Masturbating my cock with the huge 00 PA added such a sensation to the experience. The ring would flop all over the place as I worked my hard meat almost beating on it. I would take nipple clamps and attach them to my nipple rings pulling them all ways to Sunday; stretching the skin away from my body as far as I could get it to go. I also would take clamps with teeth on them and attach them to the ends of my teats. I dared not do that until close to the end of a bate session because the pain from the teeth would always make me blow.
Right in the middle of my home abuse session, the phone rang. I saw that it was the caterers. I hesitated to answer, but decided I had better.
"Hello."
"Jim, this is Phil. How are you doing?"
"I'm good, Phil. Do you need some help?" I asked.
"Well, yes, but we would like for your to come to the kitchen tomorrow just to chat. We actually don't have a job on Sunday, which is unusual, and we thought that maybe you would have some time to stop by."
"Phil, I have the day off so when would you like me to come by?"
"How about 10 AM." Phil responded.
"Ok. See you then."
When Phil rang off, I stared at the phone for several minutes. Here was the connection to my Dad on the other end of that line. Here was the man that owned my father. I had thought that I would never see Dad again. Now I was thinking that I might. I actually entertained the thought of figuring out how to get Dad to escape this prison he had put himself in. Then, I started thinking about watching my Dad up on the stage this morning being whipped and spurting a huge load of cum while fifty some odd people watched the entertainment. Suddenly, I, myself, had an orgasm without even touching my cock; like father, like son.
That evening was one of the strangest nights of my life. All of a sudden I grasped how alone I was. I never needed a lot of friends, but at this time in my life I had none. My father was now sold off as a slave. My mother was on her way to Europe. I had worked so much since escaping Mr. Brown that I had no time for me. When I was home at my apartment, I did nothing but eat and sleep resting for my next shift. Restaurant work is extremely physically demanding. I loved it; however, having two days off showed me that I had no other life. Now, I know I was the most financially stable nineteen-year-old around. My friends from high school were all creating huge sums of debt being in college. Yet, my friends were in college starting careers. I had been in a slave relationship since most of my graduation. Now I was catching up financially to make sure that I was taking care of myself leaving no time to develop new acquaintances and potential friends.
I decided to take myself out to a dinner at one of the better restaurants in town to see how other chefs were creating. Once again, I was working all the time even with something as simple as a nice meal. The dinner was quite excellent and I noted a few things that I could incorporate into my service. Afterwards, I decided to go to the leather bar; the one that Dad had been slapped by his Dominatrix and given over to his Master years earlier.
I didn't change clothes instead going in the nice outfit that I wore to dinner. I was on the prowl looking for something. I was back in a dominant mode with similar feelings to the night I fucked my Dad. My clothes were perfect for this mood. As a bottom, I had better look the part putting on my sleaziest apparel. As a top, it didn't matter what I wore. It was all about attitude. I had no need to convey my dominance by some leather garb. Projecting the right energy, I could wear anything and bag a bottom slut whore.
That is exactly what happened. Within ten minutes of being in the bar, this young fag was all over me; `oh sir; please sir; yes sir; no sir.' Oh, please. What a fucking fag; reminded me of me such a short time ago with Mr. Brown. Was I becoming jaded and cynical so quickly at my age? "Alright, fag. I'll take you back to my place and fuck you." I told the young man with an exasperate tone.
"Oh yes, sir; thank you, sir..."
Whatever...
The kid did not know what hit him (kid: remember he was only a year younger at eighteen). The moment we got into the apartment, he was in for the ride of his life. The first thing I did was actually rip his shirt off him. "Get your fucking pants off now before I do the same to them!"
The kid stripped immediately including shoes, socks, and underwear within thirty seconds. I could see in his eyes an amazing amount of fear, but he was willing to go wherever I took him. I grabbed his body pulling him to me kissing him hard on the lips. The fag melted right then and there and I had him. I knew I could do whatever I wanted. His little faggot cock was dripping cum all over my nice chinos. I wasn't happy when I realized it pushing him back and slapping him hard across the face. "How fucking dare you drip on my nice pants, faggot? Get down there and lick it up now!"
This gave me a chance to look the boy over. He was pretty. Beautiful soft unmarked skin and the most enticing bubble butt just waiting for a man's cock to be inside. He was naturally hairless with very little pubic hair and I wasn't kidding about the small dick. His cock couldn't have been more than four inches hard and thin. This kid had potential of being a `born' slave. I could just sense it.
"Take off my pants faggot. Fold them neatly and set them over there." My cock was rock hard now too busting out of my underwear hole. The fag could see the size of my cock and the large PA attached. "Now do the same with the rest of my clothes, asshole."
The little queer boy was so obedient. He reminded me of Dad. "Get down on your knees, boy, in front of me. Would you like to taste my cock, faggot?"
"Oh yes, Sir. Please, Sir. I will gladly pleasure you, Sir. I will do anything for you, Sir." The boy begged.
"Stick out your tongue." I lightly touched the tip of his tongue with my PA. The kid moaned in desperation clearly wanting to take the whole piece of meat. "You want more, faggot?"
"Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!"
"I'll take that as a yes." I slowly moved the head past his lips. He was obviously an experienced cocksucker because I knew he wanted it all down his throat right then. He probably used to suck off all the boys in his neighborhood growing up. Every neighborhood has a cocksucker ready to serve. The Universe always makes sure there is a queer to take care of the dominant boys. It is the natural order of things. Then, I grabbed the back of his head and forced my cock down his gullet. He didn't gag; he took it all. This boy had a little more going for him than I originally gave him credit for. Of course, usually, I'm on the receiving end like him, but he didn't need to know that I had spent more time in my life in his position than in my current state of being his top.
"Suck me, faggot. Take my whole fucking cock, asshole. Oh yeah, fucker. God damn queer. God damn faggot. Look at the little queer boy at the end of my cock. What a worthless piece of shit you are except for taking man loads." Wow. Where was all the meanness coming from? I was super-hyped up. This had been a long day.
I forced my cock in and out of his whore mouth until I shot a massive load down his throat. I'm sure he thought I was going to fuck him, but I was tired and just wanted to get off. He was the whore in this scene. He had to take what he could get.
"Alright, queer. I'm going to take a shower. When I'm done, you can take one too because I don't want some smelly queer in my bed all night." His eyes lit up like saucers. I had just told him that I wanted him to sleep with me.
When I was done taking my shower and dried off, I walked back into the main room. He was on his knees on the floor waiting patiently. I threw my wet towel at him and said, "Use my washcloth and this towel. I don't need any additional laundry because of the likes of you. I'm going to bed. You get in bed when you're finished and don't touch me unless I ask. Got it?"
"Yes, Sir."
I barely heard him shower. I was asleep by the time he got in the bed with me. He obeyed and didn't touch me. That must have been hell for a queer like him. I know it would have been for a queer like me had I been on his side. I remember the times I so desperately wanted Mr. Brown's touch. Mr. Brown constantly denied me that gift. I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't be like Mr. Brown to this kid, but I thought it was the right thing to do for the moment.
The next morning I rolled over and shoved my cock up his cunt. I grabbed hold of his titties and fucked him raw until my load filled the faggot's vagina. I kissed him on the back of the neck, "Good morning, faggot. Fix me some breakfast fast. I got an appointment to get to."
Surprisingly the kid knew how to cook and the breakfast was far better than I would have fixed myself. We exchanged phone numbers and I escorted him to the front door of the building. Running back up the stairs to my apartment, I was shocked to note that I actually liked that man I had abused last night.
I buzzed the speaker outside the kitchen warehouse. "Hi, Phil. It's Jim." The door unlocked and I went up to their offices. I had been there before on my first night after escaping from Mr. Brown's and several other times working jobs for them.
Both Phil and Ben were hot in my book. Both were about 5' 9" and in the latter thirties. Phil was wiry, wore wire-rimmed glasses and was bald. Phil probably weighed in at 150 lbs. I could tell that he was quite fit under those loose chef jackets. He most likely had a swimmer's or jogger's body with close to zero percent body fat, lean muscle with a hairy chest and arms. I imagined his dick to be about 7" long and thin; the type of dick that would jab my cunt hard.
Ben, on the other hand, was thick hitting the scale between 210 and 220. He had broad shoulders and his torso was just as wide. His pecs were huge clearly lifting the chef jacket up. There was a bit of a belly that I'm sure was solid as a rock as well. He was balding with hair on the sides of his head and a full goatee. His hands and forearms were thick and his arms were covered in hair. I imaged his cock at 8" and so stout that lips would barely make it around the head. Any man cunt that got fucked by it would be stretched for life destroying the elasticity of the manhole. Whenever I worked for them, I would go home and jack off thinking about the various things they could do to me. We had never broached the subject.
We shook hands and they offered me a seat in their office. Each had their own desk that they were sitting behind so I could not look both of them in the eye at the same time. I wondered if this was some sort of tactic.
I was nervous and started the conversation, "So why did you want to see me guys?"
Phil answered. "We are in need of some full-time help. Our business has grown to the point where we really need to have a third hand. We like you. You are an incredible worker. We have never met anyone who works as hard as you do without being an owner. We would like for you to come work for us permanently. We can offer you benefits and more salary than what you currently receive at the restaurant; but more importantly working as a caterer means that much more of your skills are put to the test. In a restaurant, you are making the same dishes over and over again. Catering, there is the standard stuff; yet, most of our clients want twists. They want something unusual. They want to one-up their neighbors. We also want to have someone who will not be shocked by anything. Since you used to be Mr. Brown's slave, we think that you qualify as someone who is accepting in ways most wouldn't understand."
"Wow. Thank you for the compliments and the offer. I'm not sure what to say. I am happy at the restaurant and the routine that I have working and going back to my little apartment. The restaurant is within walking distance and this would mean a commute. I know that seems silly based on what you have offered; however, I am attempting to keep my life as simple as possible." I felt stupid to have even said it.
Ben piped in at this point. There was a slightly different tone with him. Ben was the head chef. Phil was the sous chef. In every kitchen, there must be one ultimate boss. Ben was the ultimate boss. Phil was very demanding and dominant. Ben took it to the highest level though. "We have already thought of that. We would like for you to come live with us because there is a little more to the offer than what Phil stated. We need someone to manage the help. We have a full-time staff back at our residence. They do the work around the place since Phil and I are always cooking and managing the books. Luckily, we just acquired someone new who can manage the books for us in the future leaving us some free time and some extra time to promote the business."
Now, I knew who they had just acquired. They had acquired my Dad. This was becoming one of those if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is' moments. I was flattered and frightened at the same time. Who was this staff'? I did not know anything about this. When I worked for Ben and Phil, it was just the three of us and some servers that I assumed they hired from some agency for the evening. Of course, I had never been to their house, only here at the kitchen and in their vans.
Ben saw that I was getting very uncomfortable. I don't think he anticipated my hesitancy, but after seeing them purchase my Dad, the whole experience of yesterday and my new feelings about slavery, I just was unsure. If this had happened prior to this whole thing with Dad, I probably would have jumped at the chance without a thought to it. Now, I felt that there was something dangerous about this. Yet, they did say they were going to pay me. They also said that I would get room and board, which would be an immediate increase in income by eliminating that expense. And, they said they would pay me more than the restaurant. Ben said rather gruffly, but I had experienced Ben's gruffness before so it didn't bother me, "Here is a copy of your job description. Why don't you take it home and consider how great this opportunity is? Call us by the end of the day with your decision. If you decide to take the job, you can start after your two-week notice to your current employer."
Ben was finished talking. Phil escorted me out of the building with the usual polite chit-chat and expressing his hopes that I would come on board. I thanked him profusely since I wasn't as scared of Phil as Ben.
Job Description:
- Second sous chef 2. Manager of household and service staff 3. Minimum 60 hour work week
What I would ultimately grasp was that there was a hierarchy and I was in the middle. Ben and Phil were both tops; but Ben was the ultimate top. I was to be there sub; yet also a top to the rest of the staff, who were all slaves purchased by Ben and Phil. There were the three of us making money off the business. All the others made money for the business, but only received room, board and medical care. No wonder they were making so much money; or so I thought.
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