Duped!

DUPED! by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories in groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part 4

They used the ticket hung around my neck as a kind of "routing slip" to perform the things that the chief honcho had specified for me. They employed some sort of professional barber to do my hair - not that there was much to do, as he basically only razored the nape of my neck into a sharp line (I usually have it tapered), but for one of the other guys it was more elaborate, as his long-ish hair was styled down to an inch or so: it really did make a difference, as he looked totally different afterwards, so much harder and tougher.

It was the young lad who attended to the trimming of my more intimate body hair, though. He read the slip, then told me cheerfully to hold my arms up in the air whilst he snipped away at my pits. But I hated it when he then bent down in front of me and started to cut away at my pubes - I've got quite a pronounced bush, stretching right across my lower abdomen, and when he'd finished, I just had a little tiny bit above my cock, and some straggling down the sides generally - and this was anyway all reduced in length from two or three inches to a uniform inch.

After that, it was just awful! With the guards watching so I didn't dare disobey, and with the camera zooming in all the time to add to my shame and embarrassment, the kid told me to lie on the floor, and then, as I did, feeling the concrete cold against my back, he looked down at me and said "OK, this is how we do it - pull your legs up and back and grab hold of your ankles, and it will all be over before you know."

At first I didn't understand what the fuck he was going on about, until he knelt beside me, waving his scissors and a razor. Then, with my cock flopping forward onto my belly as I grasped my ankles, I realised that my balls were exposed to him (and the camera) . He was really gentle, though - I suppose that if he did this regularly, and he did seem to know what he was doing, he'd know that most blokes are terrified of someone holding their balls. I didn't even like it when a girl friend did it sometimes, and I'd certainly never allowed a bloke to do it before. I mean, there's something about your balls, isn't there, that seems to make them very, very special to a part of your brain? Even the slightest tap against them, and you go into a kind of "protect" mode automatically. And I've never been punched or kicked in the balls, but they all say it's absolute agony.

So I lay there on tenterhooks as he gently moved them around from side to side, first snipping the long hairs off the sac, and then moving on to gently shave them totally smooth - and this required him to move my balls around in the sac and stretch it so that it was flat, to avoid getting razor nicks. He evidently saw my concern, as he grinned and whispered "Don't worry, I've never castrated a guy yet! Just keep hold of those ankles, and you'll be OK."

He sounded surprisingly mature for such a young guy, and I wondered what strange twists of fate had brought him to this place: had he been duped, as I'd been? It hardly seemed possible, as he was so young that he couldn't possibly have been offered any kind of job. So as he was scraping away, I whispered to him, asking him. Somehow I guessed that we'd better whisper, or the guards would object - that's what he'd done, after all.

"No, mate!", he said. "I was pissed off at home, and saw this advert offering a year out, before exams, for an adventure trek. It looks as if I'm going to be here a lot more than a fucking year, if you ask me."

So there it was - they evidently had lots of ways of recruiting men, duping them in different ways. But he was whispering to me again "I keep hoping my mom will send the police to find me or something, but I think she was so wrapped up with my new step-dad that she's forgotten all about me."

"So how long have you been here?"

"Since I was fifteen. But they didn't start fucking me until I was sixteen, last week."

My whole body almost convulsed as he said this, and he whispered "Hey, steady on...!"

"But you said they fucked you..."

"Sure. All the male slaves get fucked. That's one of the attractions of owning a slave - he's yours, so you can do what you like with him."

"But you're only sixteen..."

"So? I'd been screwing my girlfriend before I came here, and I don't know why they waited really. At home they'd have needed to because of the law.... But here.... Well, as you'll find out, the only law is your owner's commands, and he enforces them with the cane and the whip!"

"Now lie still...", he added. "Most guys buck a bit when I do this.... And, believe me, you don't want to get nicked with this razor where I'm about to trim.... And pull your lags back as far as you can so your ass is up in the air a bit.... It will be easier for you...."

I wondered what was going to happen, but did as he'd said, and then it was as if something almost electric went through me - the cold steel of the razor was scraping around the edges of my asshole. "What the fuck are you doing?", I whispered still, but there was an urgent tone in my voice.

"Shhh.... Or the guards will punish me and you. Look, I know a lot of guys don't like this, but the slip says that your ass has got to be shaved. They always have that done, unless the bloke is a really fair blond, and then they sometimes let him keep a few wisps around there..."

"No..."

"Yes. Look, shut the fuck up - the guard's looking. It will be over soon, and then you'll be nice and clean, ready for display."

"Ready for display?"

"Oh come on! If you were buying a slave for sex, wouldn't you want to make sure his hole was in good condition?" I did shiver now, both inwardly and outwardly. This young lad seemed to accept that it was perfectly normal for a man to be bought for sex, and, what's more, that he knew that this would be my fate. But before I could ask him anything more, he got to his feet and said "All done!", and the guards motioned for me to get up so he could start on the next bloke.

I've been to auctions before. Once I went to one where they were selling off furniture, and once to try and buy a cheap car, and once even, when I was on holiday in a small town in the country, I even turned up at the local cattle market as there was not much else to do and where they were auctioning ponies. But I never thought that the next time I'd be at an auction it would be not as a bidder or spectator, but as the item for sale! Thinking about it, though, the actual processes weren't all that different.

Firstly, there's the viewing. For furniture, it just sits there. For the cars you could go along and look at them, open the doors, sit in the seats... And at the pony auction you could inspect the animals all over, look at their hooves, run your hands over their flanks, and all stuff like that, and then they drove them along past us, so we could see how they moved. Well, when the four of us were auctioned, it was a bit like all of these things mixed together! So once they'd finished trimming and shaving all four of us, we were taken into a big room and neatly spaced out along it s length. The guards cuffed my hands behind my back, then put a collar around my neck, and pushed my cuffed hands really very high up my back and attached the cuffs to the collar with a short length of what felt like chain. In this position my head was slightly back as I tried to relieve the strain in my arms, but my chest and hips were thrust forward. As I stood there, helpless, they then chained me to the floor at that point using an ankle manacle on a short chain that came up ut of a little trap door in the floor.

"Only one more thing... Open your mouth!", the guard told me, and when I hesitated, not somehow sure of what he meant, he slapped my naked bum with his open palm. I gave a little leap forward and shouted with surprise. He just laughed and told me that I was lucky he hadn't got this prod out, and that I should fucking well do as I was told, and get my mouth open.

I opened my mouth, and he pushed a gag in - it was a ball gag, I think. Well, at least it looked a bit like one of the things I'd seen one day when I'd bought a porn magazine and some big-busted woman was standing there with this round thing in her mouth. It was strapped around my head, and I couldn't push it out, and I couldn't speak at all as it filled my mouth and pushed my tongue down.

After that, I just stood there, and after a few minutes "buyers" - well, that was what I assumed they were - started to wander past. Most of them just took a casual look at me, but to my horror one or two wanted a closer look: they didn't hesitate to run their hands down my pecs, or feel the muscles in my bum or belly, and some of them even played with my cock. At first I tried to protest, but I realised it was useless as they couldn't understand what I was saying. And even if they could have, I began to think that they wouldn't have cared anyway. I just had to stand there and put up with their horrible fat sweaty hands probing and feeling me, as there was absolutely nothing I could do about it - I had very limited manoeuvring room at the end of the short tethering chain, and with my hands immobile, and painfully so, high up behind my back, there was no way I could stop them. You never realise how totally helpless you are until your cuffed and chained like that - all my strength and power was completely useless, and I could do nothing at all to prevent these podgy out of shape guys from doing whatever they liked to me. And there were the guards, too - still standing there, still with those prod things. I just had to put up with the unbelievable degradation of having other men feeling me in the most intimate way.

Mind you, as well as being so humiliating, it was kind of exciting. I've always liked having a good body, and in some way having it admired like this - yes, that's what a lot of these guys were doing, they were admiring my physique - was almost like a reward for all the hard work I put in at the gym. And I've never had a man feel my cock before, of course - but, actually, once you get over the initial revulsion it's kind of sensual - the warmth and the feel of flesh is special, and having another guy slide my 'skin up and down and take a close look at my cock head had me almost squirming. I hope they didn't think that I was gay or anything just because I had a pretty massive erection and stood there with pre-cum dripping out. Look, you try it: find some bloke you've never met, strip off, and get him to hold your cock - I guarantee you'll be rock hard, as I was.

The camera recorded everything, of course, and I even think that some of the potential buyers were encouraged to do very specific examinations on me - making me lift a foot up off the ground, for example, and then probing with their fingers into my thigh muscles as they flexed and tensioned to hold that position. And, of course, they examined my hole. I was ordered to bend at the waist, and then I felt a finger probing at me, trying to force its way in! I was flushing bright red with embarrassment, but it must have been the normal practice there as latex gloves were provided - I came to dread the snapping on of one of these on a buyer, as it was the inevitable prelude to an attempt to go up my bum.

Still, I suppose it was like a lot of things in life, really - however bad something is, it ends at some point and you move on to the next thing. Here, though, I'm not sure that what we moved on to wasn't worse! The guards "freshened" our numbers again and unshackled us from the floor, then released our collars and cuffs. All four of us stood there flexing our arms and waving them around, getting some life back into them and starting the blood flowing again. Then we were herded along a short tunnel by the guards with their prods, and came out into what was like a small arena, or selling ring at a cattle auction. It must have been about twenty feet across, with sand on the floor, and a three-foot high barrier all around up from which rose a few tiers of seats. Just inside the barrier there was another rail, and we were in the gap between them. There was the noise of a motor, and polite applause from the watching audience in the seats as one of the guards came in riding a trail bike - he came up behind us, and told us to start running - and, of course, we soon discovered that we needed to keep a respectable distance in front of him as otherwise his prod would touch our bare bums!

It was OK at first as he went relatively slowly and we could do a kind of fast jog. Well, I say OK, but actually I suppose it wasn't OK - I could feel my cock and my balls bouncing up and down as I loped along, and as well as hating to be made a spectacle of like this, I knew I'd be sore in the morning as I was used to exercising with my balls properly supported. But then, of course, he began to speed up, and soon all four of us were no longer jogging, but actually running - I started to piston my arms to get more speed, and in the humidity I could feel my body running with sweat.

Look, I'm a really fit bloke, but after a few minutes running like this I was really done in and I wanted to stop. But stopping wasn't allowed, and we even speeded up some more, until all semblance of doing "proper" running had disappeared, and we were all just going as fast as we could drive our bodies to avoid that fucking probe. Then, of course, when he finally stopped, we were completely done in - all four of us stood there clutching at the barrier for support as we gasped for breath and our racing hearts and tortured lungs strove to recover. The sweat was pouring off me, and I could feel a little rivulet of it even running along my cock and drops of it falling from the end - after a really hard game of squash I'd sometimes been like that in the changing rooms, but here it was different: this exhaustion was driven, not something that I'd done for myself. And somehow having my naked body totally covered in sweat like this, with all those eyes looking at me, made me feel just as if I was no longer a man at all, but some sort of beast that could be forced to work until he was totally and utterly exhausted.

So after all this exercise, the only thing that remained was the auction itself. They kept us in the arena thing with the customers sitting around above us, and bought in a small stand for the auctioneer. He had one of those traditional high auctioneer's desks which he stood behind, with the bloke who was being sold slightly to the front and to the right of him. And then it was just like a livestock sale: I heard myself described as a "twenty four year old buck, tested satisfactorily in all the standard tests", and that was that!

Until it happens, you just can't imagine how awful it is to be sold. I mean, in life you have choices, don't you? But now it was quite apparent that something different was happening to me: men were bidding on me just as if I was a piece of property, an object with no more rights than an animal that was bought at auction. The auctioneer "encouraged" the bids by pointing out my best features, and I just had to stand there, helpless, as he asked them to consider my lean, muscled body and my firm, long thighs. The worst thing, though, was when he used a thin cane to poke at my cock with, managing to get the end of it under my cock and raise it up so that they could all see how long it was really! Well, as you might expect, having something like that fiddling around with me caused me to start to have an erection, and this caused further comment from the auctioneer about how perfectly proportioned I was. It had been bad enough having an erection when one man had "inspected" me earlier, but now, standing there with my cock almost flat up against my belly in front of everyone was one of the worst experiences I've ever had in my whole life. And those of you who are already 'skinned just can't realise how totally, completely exposed you feel when someone else looks at your cock head!!

You may wonder why I didn't shout out, and why I just stood there and took it. But think about it for a minute - you're stark naked in front of this audience of sleek, rich-looking men. Guards with those prod things are standing around, and I didn't want to feel those against my naked skin. And most of all it's the total unreality of the situation - it was as if I was going to wake up at any moment to find that I'd been in some terrible dream. Or, given that the camera was filming everything, someone would come and tell me that I was on one of those "reality" shows where they expect people to do stupid things. So somehow I was reluctant to do anything, and all I could do was just stand there, feeling my cock sticking out in front of me, and listening almost as if I was an observer, and not the object of the exercise, as the auctioneer slowly and steadily took bids and my "price" rose up and up.

I was almost in a daze when I heard that traditional "bang" of the gavel on the auctioneer's desk, and he pronounced me "sold". I still just stood there, still almost unable to believe what had happened, and I think I'd still be there today if one of the guards hadn't moved in and grasped my right biceps very firmly in his hand. "Come on, you're holding things up", he said, loud enough for me to hear, but not so that the audience would notice. His firm, insistent pressure was all that was necessary, really, and he led me out of the arena, still watched by the camera. I suppose part of me also noticed how my cock bobbed up and down as I walked - it's not often you feel that, is it, as normally the only time you're erect and totally naked without your underwear is when you're in the bedroom or bathroom, and then you don't walk more than a few steps.

The guard's firm but insistent pressure on my arm half forced, half led me out to a room at the back, where I was pushed into what I can only describe as a cage. Well, not a cage low on the ground like a dog would have, but more like one of those old-style telephone boxes, only made out of bars of steel running from floor to ceiling. He pushed me in, then locked the door behind me, and there was only just room enough for my body - I could turn around, just, and flex my body, but there was no way that I could sit down, or raise my arms up or anything like that, as it was too confining. All I could do was just stand there, feeling pretty stupid, as one by one the other guys were brought in, presumably having been auctioned too, and in turn each was locked into a separate cage.

It's actually quite distressing to be held in a close confinement cage like that - you think you can move your body, but you can't really, and standing almost still for any length of time really does wear you out.

I could feel myself starting to get little twinges of cramp, and I desperately wanted to throw myself about a bit, and get some life into my limbs. It was a relief, therefore, when the guard ushered a man along to stand outside. He was in his early forties, I guess, and relatively fit looking, dressed with that sort of casual elegance that screams at you that an awful lot of money has been spent on his clothes.

He stared at me for a moment, then said, softly "Excellent! You look even better close-up, boy, than you did up there on the auction block. Now, let me see that erection again, please."

I could hardly believe what he'd said, and just stood there, in one of those pauses you get whilst your brain processed again, very, very slowly, the words you can hardly believe you've heard. As I stood there, he nodded at the guard who pushed his night stick through the bars and before I could stop him - and my powers of manoeuvre were really very limited in the close confinement - had jabbed me in the belly. I jerked forward and my forehead slammed painfully in to the bars. The guard snarled "Boy, you heard your new owner! He wants to see your cock erect. Now, get and do it!"

"No, please...."

"Listen, fucking slave, when your owner gives you an order, you obey, and you obey instantly. And what's the problem anyway- you were flaunting that cock of your in front of the whole audience a few minutes ago.

You need to remember that it's not your cock anyway now - it's our owner's, just as every part of you belongs to him. And if he wants to take a closer look at his possessions, you'd fucking well better obey. Now, get hard, before I use my night stick on you again."

I did try, really I did, but it's hard to get a real wood going when there are other men watching you like that, especially as they were so close, separated only by the bars of the cage. I thought every sexy thought

I could, but it was no use. It just wouldn't budge, and hung there on top of my balls like a limp sausage.

"Get it up, boy....", the guard said again, even more menacingly.

"Please, I can't.... "

"Yes you can, boy! Don't just stand there like a useless piece of shit - start stroking it!"

So I did - I could see his night stick just outside the bars, ready for action, and I had just a bit of freedom of movement in my arms so I reached down and began to slide my foreskin backwards and forwards over my head. Even though I thought I might die of embarrassment, the expected thing happened - I mean, you can't wank yourself when you're a virile young guy without having some effect, can you? When I was really hard, the elegantly dressed man, who I guessed was my owner, said in a calm, quiet voice "Excellent!

Very well proportioned, and a good length. Now skin back for me, please, as I want to see the head properly."

Again, I went to do nothing, but the guard twitched at his stick, and I knew I'd better obey. It's no big deal you might think if you're already cut and used to having the end of your cock on public display in changing rooms and places like that, but for us uncut guys it's quite different - we just aren't used to other men seeing our piss slits and the flanges around our heads. And to make things worse, as I teased the 'skin back and it was revealed to them, I knew that the experience on the auction block had caused me to leak some pre-cum, and so the head was all shiny and moist as they looked at it: uncut guys' cock heads are always dry, aren't they?

To my utter amazement my "owner" reached in through the bars and his strong fingers closed around my shaft, just before the head flange. He gave a gentle squeeze, and then almost teased my head through his fingers, massaging it gently as he did so. I tried to pull away from him, but in the close confines of the cage there was no way I could - my bum was pressed right back against the bars behind me, and I just had to endure it.

"No....", I moaned.

"Easy, boy!". His tone was at once reassuring, and calming. "Easy. I'm done, for the time being. I just like to actually feel the slaves I've bought as soon after the auction as possible, to make sure that all is what it seems- but you really are exceptional: once we've had all that 'skin removed from you, you'll have a truly exceptional cock. Mankind deserves to be able to see such a perfect specimen of a cock, with the head so nicely shaped in relation t to the shaft - so many men either have a smaller head, or one that's disproportionately large, but you're just right.

"Please, why does it matter?"

He gave a small laugh. "Because when you're on display, before my clients buy your time, it's important that you look really exciting. You've got a good body, and after we've had some 'conditioning' exercises to muscle some parts of you up just a little - I think you'd benefit from more pronounced biceps, for example - you really will be pretty exceptional, and it would be a pity if it was all spoiled by the wrong size and shape of cock. As it is, you'll attract premium prices, and I can see you selling to six or seven clients a night - well, at least for the first few weeks, when you're still fresh and new."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, your new role in life - I've bought you to add to the choice I offer my clients. They're a discerning lot, you know, and they need a constant supply of new excitement if they're going to keep coming back. Most of them are past their prime, of course, or else they wouldn't be having to pay me as they could get if free; and being like that, well, they need excitement, good, fresh, hard, young bodies to look at and to feel...."

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't they tell you? No, I suppose not. Well, I run a brothel - a very exclusive brothel, actually. I canter to mostly older clients, and they always like a piece of younger man flesh in really peak condition, like you. As I said, we'll have to have you 'skinned, as working in the sex industry most people like to see the smoother, sleeker, streamlined look..."

As he spoke, the thought of him deciding, so casually, that I was going to be cut, and then used sexually, made my cock go even harder. But I couldn't let him know that it was kind of exciting, could I? So I burst out with "NO! You can't make me do that. I'm not going to fuck a lot of old women...."

"You're a absolutely right, boy. Of course you're not going o fuck a lot of old women! All the money is in catering to male clients, and it's older, more mature men who can really appreciate a body like yours. And I don't think you'll be doing much fucking: I haven't examined your asshole yet, but if that delightfully flaring muscular bum of yours is anything to go by, a man who gets himself down between your cheeks and deep up your hole is going to have a rare experience. I think you'll be one of my biggest selling properties, at least initially, until the novelty wears off. Still, I can always sell you off then...."

"No. This is crazy. I'm not some fag, for other men to fuck. I've got a girl friend..."

The guard and my owner both laughed. "You mean you used not to be a fag; you HAD a girlfriend", my owner commented. "But don't worry, we'll soon train you...."

I started to shout "No fucking way...", but was cut off as all the air went out of me as the guard stabbed his stick really hard into my belly again. As I lay against the bars of the cage, trying to recover my breath, the guard reached in and simply cuffed my hands behind my back.

"Shall I lead him out to the transport, sir?", I heard him ask, and saw my owner nod.

The camera hovered around as the guard unlocked the cage, grabbed hold of my cock, and used it as a handle to pull me out and lead me off down the corridor. I was so humiliated, and at the same time I began to feel so fucking stupid: that I could have been duped into even applying for this job. You know what they say, "if it looks too good to be true, it probably isn't!". I'd been really taken in, really fell for it.

In spite of my anger, the guards' hard fingers gripping my cock and pulling me along were somehow exciting. In spite of myself, I just couldn't help going really hard, so hard that I started to have that dull ache in my cock that you get when it wants to shoot but is prevented from doing so. It was really awkward walking along behind him cuffed like that - if you don't believe me, try it some time: when a man's got hold of your cock, you're quite close to him and so I kept stumbling and bumping into him as we made our way out to where a big, black SUV was waiting.

My "owner" clicked the key fob and it made that stupid "thock, thock" noise as it unlocked, and the guard stood there, holding my cock in the bright sunlight. I guess the camera was there to film me starting my new life, as the dammed thing now seemed to be focussing on my cock, which I knew must really be leaking pre-cum.

"Have you got a long journey, sir?", the guard asked my owner, and he replied "We're on the other side of the island, so only about three quarters of an hour."

"May I suggest I relieve the slave then, for you? The way this boy is leaking, I doubt that you'll make it without him shooting, and it would be a pity to have him soil those leather seats...."

My owner had a wry smile on his lips as he replied "It's very good of you to be concerned for the welfare of my car, by all means, proceed!"

I'd never been wanked by another guy before. And I even hated wanking myself standing up. But what could I do, cuffed like that? The guard moved around and I felt his other hand on my bum, not so much to prevent me pulling away from him - his hand on my cock prevented that - but as if he was giving some little extra degree of "control". And then he began, and it was nothing like I did myself - I mean, every bloke knows how he likes to wank himself, doesn't he? I wondered if this was how it was going to be from now on - having a selection of old men playing with my cock until I shot my load. In spite of it not being all that good for me, though, he seemed to be enjoying it - sliding my 'skin up and down with relish. He leaned close to me and I could feel his hot breath on my naked skin, and he began to encourage me... "Come on, boy... Come on, cum for daddy, boy... Let me see that lovely cum of yours.... Come on, boy..."

In spite of feeling so odd, I couldn't help it, and as his strokes got faster and he gripped my cock harder and harder, I did begin to feel the excitement mounting in me. There was that lovely feeling in my cock as it got ready to fire, and if I'd been doing it myself I'd have slowed down to prolong the moment - but the strong, fast stroking went on, and I heard myself saying "Yes, yes, yes....", as I really was now enjoying it. And then, of course, I shot. My legs trembled as my cum shot out - a long way, as I could see the wet streak on the concrete in front of me. The guard saw it, too, but he didn't stop - he carried on wanking me, and I've got one of those incredibly sensitive dicks that almost hurts if you go on after I've shot. I cried out "No, no, oh, yes....." As I went through some kind of barrier, and the incredible sensations flooding through my body turned form pain to sheer, unadulterated pleasure.

My body rocked as two "aftershocks" dribbled new loads of cum out of me, and then the guard evidently knew I was done as he stopped. He was breathing hard from his exertions, but not nearly as hard as me - I was fairly gasping, and the sweat was running off me in bucket loads. We all stood there for a few moments as my breathing stilled, then my owner said "Impressive! And that's before you've been trained, boy. Now, get in...."

I saw the camera watching as I inelegantly climbed up into the high seat of the SUV, and the leather seats really burned my naked bum as I sat down! With my hands cuffed behind my back, at least I didn't get that burned as it couldn't rest against the seat, but in the heat I carried on sweating as my owner climbed in, started the engine, and then said, conversationally, as if it was the most usual thing in the world to have a naked bloke next to him "It'll soon cool down as the aircon gets going, but do tell me if it then gets too cold for you - with all that flesh exposed, it can get chilly, especially as you're sweating so much!"

"Please sir, help me.... I don't want to be here. I'm not a slave. I was cheated, duped, got here under false pretences. I'm sure there'd be a reward or something if you let me get a message to the authorities..."

He drove on a moment in silence, and I blurted out again "Please, sir.... Look, I'm only a young guy. I don't want to spend my life being fucked by a lot of old men. Please, sir, it was all a mistake, I read this advert for a good job, and I was duped.... Please help me, sir...."

He drove on a few moments more in silence, then stopped the car in a small opening by the side of the road. "Here, let's get you out of those cuffs", he said conversationally.

"So you're going to help me. Oh, thank you, sir... Thank you....."

He threw his head back and laughed out loud then. "You're Steve, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir...."

""Hell no, call me Mike. You can cut out all this 'sir' and 'slave' stuff now. Turn around and let's get those cuffs off you..."

"What the fuck's going on...."

"OK, time to come clean, with you, Steve. You saw the camera following every step of your enslavement, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's kind of a double dupe, if you like. There's a famous short story by a writer who specialises in writing about men who are captured, enslaved and used sexually. He got a lot of requests asking for a film to be made of it, or one of his many other stories, but it was thought that we'd never be ale to get good enough actors to really play the part.

Good actors are very, very expensive, and the ones who could really pull it off are famous, or know they're going to be famous, and just wouldn't do it as if it was a conventional movie: can you believe any of those famous Hollywood actors would be stripped completely naked, and wanked in public?"

"No...."

"Quite. So we decided not to use actors at all. But the problem then is that ordinary men don't know how to act. So the only way we could get our film, was to convince some ordinary men like you that it was all for 'real', that you really had fallen into the hands of slavers.... And I think we did it really rather well!"

"What...?"

"Yes, the 'rushes' every night are really so realistic, that they make all the editors and everyone who sees them go hard instantly. It's going to be the gay porn sensation of the year - no, of the century! You'll be really well known, Steve."

"You mean all this isn't real?"

"No, it's a story within a story - you were duped into believing that you'd been duped...."

"I'll sue...."

"I think not. No one seeing those shots of the guard wanking you a moment ago, and the way you were evidently enjoying it, would believe you weren't in on the act and were doing ti willingly. He's a nice guy, isn't he? He wasn't nearly as rough as he could have been when you were in that cage! He was a mercenary, and used to beat real shit out of the niggas, he told me, and it was hard to restrain himself to just wind you without really hurting you. But when he wanked you, you really enjoyed it: it showed in your eyes! You'll never convince a court that you were not doing it willingly. And we have the contract you signed in London, remember, where you agreed to come and work out here. I think our lawyers could argue that you must have known that there was something sexual involved, as no man could really believe we were prepared to pay so much money for someone without experience...."

"No..."

"Yes. Now, I think you're a sensible kind of bloke, Steve. You were gullible, and duped in the first place to sign up. Then you believed it and thought it was real, and were duped again. Now, why don't you just reach over into the back and you'll find a pair of shorts there - the sight of that cock of yours is making me go hard..."

I did as he was told, and as I reached over the seat, his hand stroked my bum.

"Hey, cut it out..."

"Ah, Steve, I think you're fooling yourself! You said you were not a 'fagot', I think? Well, let me tell you, that whether you believed that the guard was wanking you for real, or as part of the film, or what, I could tell that you enjoyed it. And a completely straight guy wouldn't react like that - or, rather, would do SOMETHING! And when a man's hand stroked his bum, he'd do more than just whisper 'cut it out'.. I think you're like a lot of men - you've spent all your life conforming, doing the 'straight' thing, and really believing that you liked it. But give you a bit of freedom and get you naked in front of other men when you can believe it's not your 'fault', then wank you, and appreciate your body.... And you start to see that there's maybe something you're missing."

"No...". Even as I said it, I knew I sounded less convincing that I had sounded before.

"Yes, Steve. I think you've been fooling yourself all these years. Now you've got two choices: You can go back to being straight Steve, go back to London, keep chasing girls.... But I bet that you'll always thereafter wonder what proper sex would be like, sex with another man that is. Or you can come and join us - there's a lot more of these stories to film, and I think that you may have some slight talent for acting, or, anyway, that you look good enough on screen that it doesn't matter much! Come and join me and the other guys as part of the crew, and we'll teach you hat sex is really all about....."

As he'd been speaking, I'd pulled the shorts over my feet, and now braced my body up so that my bum came of the seat and I struggled to pull them up and tuck my cock in.

Mike pointed to a small TV camera mounted about the rear-view mirror. "See, I got the last scene perfectly! The one where you know you were fooled." As he said this, his hand strayed over and rested on the inside of my thigh, and then slowly and sensuously stroked its way upwards to rest on my crotch. I could feel my excitement mounting, and knew that he must know I was aroused, through the thin cotton fabric.

"See, Steve.... When you start to understand what it's like to have another man interested in you, your natural instincts take over. I notice that you're not enraged, and trying to fight me off, as some blokes would..."

I turned to him and smiled. "Mike, you were making a movie, right, to the script of this story? Well, perhaps I wasn't acting - perhaps I was working out a script of my own, in which a horny virile young bloke really discovers his true self. Perhaps I'll write it as a story myself, now I've acted out my fantasy. And then, who will know what's real, and what's story? Who was duping who, Mike, do you think?"

He threw his head back and laughed, and I leaned over and rested my hand on his crotch, feeling that he was as excited as I was.

THE END