Master Paulus

Master Paulus - Part 7 Kindred Spirits

By: Christian Xavier Gartrip

(christianxgartrip@gmail.com)

It didn't take long for Rev to spot my head in the doorway. "Git over here, bitch. NOW."

Instinctively, I crawled out of my cell and made my way past a dripping douche bag to Rev and his "scene." He stopped whipping the kid and aimed his cock at my face. "Suck on this, bitch, and good morning."

He pushed the fat pink head into my mouth and grabbed the back of my neck. He let my tongue wrap around the hard black shaft as he slowly face-fucked me. His cock was covered in salty sweat. He tasted amazing. The blond went limp, but his cock was still trapped in the bald man's mouth. He wasn't sure whether to cum or to scream. He seemed confused. I felt superior to the two of them. They were making do with each other, but I had the cock of the Master buried in my throat. I was the man.

The breakfast steak that I was enjoying didn't stay there for long. Rev pulled out, grabbed my collar and dragged me over to the boy. With his two gnarled hands, he peeled apart the blond's blood red cheeks and exposed the tiniest and most delicate pale pink asshole I'd ever seen. Was this what I once had? Could any man have a shitter that was so beautiful and so small? It looked like the navel of a tasty orange, not the abused hole of a well-trained slave.

"Get you tongue in there and grease it up good. Fuck his cunt. You got that? Get it done quick."

I put my face on his ass and forced my tongue into his chute. Damn, he tasted so fresh. And yes, it felt every bit as tight as it looked. I gave him the best rim job I could give. He seemed to like it because he started to grind his ass into my face. And he really seemed to love the way my tongue felt inside his hole. It was very obvious. He had it in him, the slave thing... he had it in him. I was also very much aware of the stranger sitting directly in front of me who was working on the kid's cock. Our knees were touching. Were it not for the blond standing between us, my tongue would have been fucking this man's mouth. I had yet to get a really good look at either of them, but I felt a kinship, as if I'd known them both for months.

I sensed that the bald man's dick was hard. My hands were free, so my instinct was to reach for his cock. I didn't. I knew that to touch him there, I'd need Rev's permission, so I grabbed the blond's frail jerky ankles and held them in place.

The poor guy was sobbing like a schoolboy. He couldn't stop. His legs were shaking and the heat from the flesh on his ass had warmed my face. He'd been seriously worked over. This had been going on for a while. I wondered how I'd slept through it for as long as I did.

"That's good enough, now get out of the way."

I scurried off to the side and Rev came up behind the guy. He squatted from the knees and grabbed his mighty cock and aimed it up at the blond's tiny moist hole. He held onto the kid's hips and then drove his cock into the kid's spit-coated ass. Bam: one clean powerful jerk and he was inside this kid; deep, fast, and (no doubt) painful as hell. Rev only knows one way to fuck a slave's ass, and this was it. Vicious.

The kid let rip a powerful scream that filled the entire room. The bald guy on the floor was so terrified that he bolted back a few feet in shock. I was unmoved. This was fascinating. I wanted to be even closer. I wanted to see blood.

"Git that cock back in your mouth you piece of shit. I didn't tell you to stop. Suck his COCK!" Rev wanted the kid's dick stimulated constantly. How else to teach a slave to associate pleasure and pain as two sides of the same coin? The bald guy moved back and put the small hard penis in his mouth. The blond's dick was as tiny as he was. I caught a look as he hopelessly tried to squirm free of Rev's cock. It was beautiful, but only in miniature. Poor schmuck. What hope did he ever have? He was born for this life.

From my position, a few feet from the pummeling that Rev was giving the blond's asshole, I could see the bald man's cock. His face was buried in the kid's crotch, but his cock was a flagpole in full view. His body was freshly shaven (both guys were completely free of body hair), and his cock was much more average looking than the thumb-sized dick the blond had. Baldy had about five inches, and it was thicker than mine, with a sleek shiny pink head covered in precum. He was also sporting the tit clamps I'd worn, complete with that heavy silver cross. He seemed to tolerate it better than I did. He wasn't new to this. He seemed more willing, more experienced, more desperate.

Rev had lifted the poor blond kid about 6 inches off of the ground. He was literally hanging in mid air, anchored only by a mouth on his dick, a cock in his cunt, and a rope securing his arms to the ceiling. His head and the loose blond curls were bouncing back and forth as he screamed and begged for some relief. "Stop, Stop, STOP... Take it out! NO!!! DON'T!!! AAHHHHHAHHAHAHAH!"

Rev laughed, revealing just how sick and demented he could be. He knew this kid was hurting, but he was having so much fun causing it. His laughter, at times, drowned out the screaming, and that was a tall order.

Suddenly the blond's thin legs stiffened and shot out parallel to the floor. He was cumming. He tried to pull his cock out of the man's mouth, but the bald guy was glued onto it and he sucked it dry, swallowing every drop. I knew his ass was tightening up. It must have been awfully painful to have a cock like Rev's buried in that tiny hole while it was constricting from a massive orgasm. Rev wouldn't pull out. In fact, he sped up.

Rev dropped the guy's feet back on the floor, pushed him forward and kept going. His hips were moving fast and furiously as he pounded the kid's butthole. Mercifully, Rev finally blew, and blew big. Had the blond not been restrained, I've no doubt he would have fallen onto the concrete. So he had no choice but to stand there, or hang there, and take it.

Rev didn't really waste any time. He spun the guy around and ordered the bald man to suck the cum out of the blond's ass. Surprisingly, the bald guy did so without question. Maybe this was his thing, servicing slaves. The blond however, had a hard time staying still, so Rev had to pop his thigh a few times to get him to calm down. He reminded me of a spoiled child acting out at a supermarket. What an ingrate, I thought. The fiercest cock in the world just worked the hell out of your miserable excuse for an asshole, and you can't even act as if you're at all grateful. Stupid faggot.

Rev, without comment, walked over to me and motioned for me to clean his cock. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of swallowing the faggot's ass juice, but I loved the idea of having a second go at Rev's beef. I opened up and gave him a great cock bath. He seemed pleased, and I was as happy as I could be to do it.

I kept one eye focused on the bald man who was making a meal out of Rev's backwash. What was his deal? He came off as a pro, but a professional at what?

"You smell like a fucking garbage dump. I guess I need to give you a bath. Come with me." I crawled behind Rev as he made his way to the door. "You two better be exactly where you are right now. Don't you fucking move 'til I come back. And you better clean that hole good. Git that tongue up in there and lick him out good or you'll git a second whippin'."

So this had been going on for a while. How on earth did I sleep through all of this?

Rev led me into the backyard and placed me against the outer wall of the house. He soaked me with a garden hose and tossed me an old bar of soap and some cheap shampoo. He let me bathe myself, and then he rinsed me. He even gave me a toothbrush. What a guy.

"Now turn around and squat down... might as well clean out your cunt while we're out here."

I leaned against the wall and Rev turned down the water pressure. He shoved the tip of the hose in my ass and filled my gut with cool water. We repeated this several times until he felt the water flowed out clean enough. I liked the outdoor bathing. Is this what it was like to be a nudist? Was I a nudist? It was Monday, and I hadn't had on any clothes since Friday night. Did that qualify me as a nudist? I wanted it to. I did.

I'd hoped that Rev would use this opportunity to tell me about the two men in the chamber. He didn't. He never said a word about it, and I knew better than to ask. If I needed to know, he'd tell me. Such is the world of a slave.

When we returned to the chamber, the bald slave was still hard at work cleaning out the tail of the blond kid, who was still fighting against the ropes that held him in place. The bald slave was still rock hard, and now the blond was as well. They were both enjoying themselves, in their own way.

Rev grabbed a mess of blond curls and barked at the awkward looking teenager, "You need to piss or something?" The kid nodded.

"Get over here bitch and take this faggot's piss." He meant me, but I wasn't thrilled about it.

I put my mouth on his tiny knob of a cock, hard as it was, and waited for him to soften up enough to drop his load. It took a minute or two, but he did. I swallowed it quickly as the kid moaned his way to an empty bladder. Drinking piss from another slave is never a self-esteem builder. I didn't really like this guy, so I was not at all happy about it, but I did it... for Rev.

Rev spent the next few minutes tying both the bald guy and me to the same ceiling pipe that held the blond. When he left, he had successfully secured three slaves to the ceiling of his chamber. There we stood: scarred, scared, bruised, and butt naked. Three sex pigs, waiting for auction.

I felt the need to have a chat with blondie. I figured, "now or never."

"Hey kid, what's your name?"

"Ragan."

"Like the President?"

"No you stupid fuck, R-A-G-A-N, RA-gan." Snarky little bastard, I thought.

"I'm Chris."

"Mark, for the record." The bald one chirped in, like we were at a garden party or something. He didn't interest me so much, so I nodded and focused back on 'Ragan'.

"So how old are you, like 14?"

"I'm 20, thank you very much." Wise guy.

"Shouldn't you be in college or something?"

"Yeah, but I flunked out." He took a deep breath, "It's fine. I didn't like it much anyway."

"Huh. Sorry. So what's up with all this? I mean, why are you here?"

"What do YOU think? Same as you. I get picked up next Saturday though. I'm moving to Mississippi."

"Why the hell for?"

"Because that's where the old fucker who bought me lives, that's why. The coast, I think... Mobile maybe."

"So they really do just SELL people? Shit."

"Whatta you mean? Isn't that why you're here?"

"Not really, I don't know. I'm thinking about it. We'll see."

"Yeah, well, seems a little late for a 'we'll see,' no? I mean, you're HERE, right. Rev's getting you ready for SOMEbody."

"I don't think so. I haven't really committed to anything yet."

"Yeah, funny...you look pretty damned committed to me." And so I did. He had a point.

"So, for a kid, uhm, young guy, you seem pretty focused. Why did you try to fight it off so much this morning? You look like you'd been kidnapped or something. You didn't look all that committed either."

"The man I've been with lately isn't as mean as Rev. I like it, just not as rough as he gives it. I can't take that kind of beating very often. Plus, I usually need some lube if I'm going to get fucked up the ass. Rev's been making me take it dry since he got a hold of me. Hurts like hell."

"Who?"

"Who, what?"

"Who brought you here? You said you were with some guy, and you implied that he brought you here, to sell you, against your will, maybe."

"Oh. That'd be Ben, my ex-boyfriend. He's the one who got me into this whole slave thing. I've been living with him for a few months. I signed myself over to him for good after I flunked out of college. Didn't really think about what it all meant until it was too late. I moved into his house, then a few months later he sells me out to some old man in Mississippi. Now, I'm fucked. Fucked good."

I knew immediately that his Ben was my Ben as well: Ben, the man who started it all for me, too. I suspected these two met the same way. I didn't feel the need to reveal my own history with Ben, so I kept that part to myself. We'd never see each other again, me and Ragan, so why waste time telling him my story, when I was having so much fun getting him to tell me his.

"How'd you meet this Ben guy?"

"Oh. Well, I skipped class one day; I did that a lot, probably why I flunked out and all, and headed out to the mall like I usually do. Ben stumbled into one of the department store bathrooms and found me crouched down in the handicapped stall sucking off this old black security guard who would pay me ten bucks for blowjobs. He was fat and his wife had died, so I was helping him out. Good money, you know? I look really young so it's easy to pick up guys like that, and I was making regular pocket change doing it. I didn't hear him come in, but he pushed open the stall door because I think he heard us and knew what was going on. I was extra naked that day. The old guy liked it that way sometimes, and I'd always do it for an extra ten bucks. So Ben picked my clothes off the hook on the door and told me he'd give 'em back if I let him fuck me right there in the stall. I didn't really care, I mean, it sounded kind of hot, you know, getting fucked by one black dude while sucking off another one. And he was hot, so that helped too. The old man didn't care, so I stood up, and bent over and just kept sucking the old man's weiner while Ben fucked my ass really good with the liquid soap, that pink stuff. It was so fucking hot that I thought my head would explode. I thought someone had slipped me drugs or something. And I felt so dirty, like a real live whore. I liked the way it felt. Ben asked the old man if he'd like to fuck a little boy's asshole too. The old coot said yes, so Ben turned me around and let the old guy do it to me next. He didn't even ask me, now that I think about. Anyway, I ended up sucking my own shit off of their cocks when they were done with me. I didn't want it to stop. Shit, look, I'm getting a boner just talking about it. I was such a slut... even back then."

"And?... Come on, don't stop now, keep talking. I got my own boner over here to deal with. This is hot."

"Well, I gave Ben my phone number, and told him to call me, and when he did he wanted to meet me in the stall again, which, you know, was kind of odd. I mean, I was ready to go to his house for dinner, but he wanted to meet me in that same bathroom at the mall. I figured he was married. So I told him when I'd be there again to blow the guard and he showed up right on time for another threesome. Only this time, after the guard left, Ben and I stayed in the stall. He put me on the toilet, took off all his clothes too, and had me fuck his ass with my wet finger and then with my tongue. I loved his ass, so ripped, you know. Beefy and dark. And damn, he's got such a hot cock. Then some guy started knocking on the door. I figured it was the guard again, wantin' some more of my ass, but it was some old white guy with his old dick just hanging out of his trousers. They KNEW each other. Ben sat down on the john and had me suck him off again while the old guy boned me for a while from behind."

"When he finished, Ben had me suck that guy clean, and then the guy gave Ben fifty bucks. Fifty fucking bucks! That black motherfucker was selling my ass in the bathroom at the damn mall for God's sake. I should have been pissed as hell, but I actually got a huge rush from it, and Ben gave me half of the fifty. A few minutes later some other dude came in and we did it all over again. I didn't know where the guys came from. They were desperate types for sure. Old fucks, fat fucks, seedy looking black guys, janitors. Sometimes a nice one would come in. Fancy suit, gold watch. They were rare, but they came too. We were running a tail-for-sale scam in the mall. It was SO wrong."

"How long did this thing go on? This business thing you had going."

"Couple times a week, for a few months, but it kind of got out of control after a while."

"What do mean by 'out of control'?"

"We almost got caught a few times by the cops. So the old guard showed Ben an abandoned bathroom off of the hall the mall workers used. The mall people had built a new bathroom, but they left the old one. The guard used it to take naps in. So we set up there. It was out of the way and quiet. So no one bothered us anymore. I worked it for 4 hours a day, three days a week. I was a real pro. Blond twink's ass for fifty bucks a pop. Have at it! I forgot all about school until my report card came. Dad told me to get lost because I'd wasted his money. Fine. I didn't care, because I was having a lot more fun working with Ben. Anyway, these guys started to get a little bored and got a lot more open about wanting to pursue their fantasies and favorite kinks like golden showers and time-sharing... that's when 2 guys "shared me" during their lunch break. Then this old fuck, a mean old white guy with a long gray beard and stained teeth wanted to sit naked on the toilet with me spread across his lap so that he could spank me for being a bad boy. Uh, no. No way. I told Ben no, but he wasn't having it. He grabbed my wrists and forced me down over the man's lap. To make it all seem "real," I had to leave my clothes on so that the old geezer could pull my jeans and boxers down to my knees for added effect. I was screaming pretty loud so Ben had to stuff the guy's undies in my mouth. The old fucker picked up a fly swatter and whacked the hell out of me for a really long time. It probably didn't hurt as much as I thought it did, but it really pissed me off. Apparently I reminded the old fucker of his own son, and that was the way he'd always wanted to punish him, but he'd been too scared to actually do it to him. I think the whole incest thing turned me off. Then I had to bend over and let him fuck me after that. I would have been cool with it if he hadn't have kept threatening to call my mommy if I didn't keep quiet for daddy."

"It got real dark after that. Ben started coming to the dorms and picking me up when I hadn't planned to work, and he cut my take back even though he was charging more for me to do the weird shit. I started doing all sorts of things for those guys. Some man once paid Ben 500 dollars for an hour alone with me in that bathroom. He even gave Ben a combination lock to put on the door so I couldn't get away, and so no one would come in and disturb us. He had me dress in a diaper and then piss and shit myself like a toddler does. Then he peeled back the diaper and fucked the living hell out of my bony brown ass. I thought that hour would never end. Then he washed us up in the sink and sang lullabies and put a fresh diaper on me. He even powdered my damn cock. He was a sick prissy fucker... rich as hell, I'd bet. He took the old diaper with him. I did him three or four times. Anyway, I got used that too, and Ben always gave me a little bit of the money, and I didn't want Ben to have to hit me with the fly swatter like the old guy did, so I just kept doing what the old men wanted. Ben was always there to watch. He stayed in the bathroom, you know, to make sure no one really hurt me. Sometimes he'd join in if he liked what he saw... free of charge of course. And sometimes the johns would pay him extra to leave us alone... like I was saying. Anything for more money."

"So why all the fighting with Rev?"

"You missed the worst part. He really let me have it good, and for no real reason. He just wanted to take me for a ride. I think that's what he said. And at least Ben usually fucked me with some kind of gel. I don't do it well with a dry cock. Rev went right for it though... like he knew. He always does. I'll never get over that. He did it that way for the video too."

"So Ben just sold you? To Rev?"

"Yeah, well kinda. After I flunked out, my parents told me to get a job and not come home, so I moved over to Ben's temporarily. He gave me a room for my stuff, but I slept with him on most nights. He told me I didn't have to work, and I could just stay home if I'd be his sex slave for real. I knew what it meant to be a pro, because I was one, but the whole slave thing didn't register with me. I just figured that if I was Ben's sex slave I'd only have to do freaky shit with him and not with all the other guys, at least not every day. I was in love with him so I just said 'sure.' He was weird about it though; cut me off from my friends, wouldn't let me get dressed or even leave the house. He'd get drunk and call friends to come over, old people and shit, and make me answer the door naked. Then sometimes I'd have to fuck everybody in the room. I like sex but I wanted to put all that behind me and just be with Ben. I told him that once, that I loved him, and he slapped my face and then went off on my ass. Really pissed him off when I started talking about love. That was the first time he ever tied me down and really beat me like a real slave. He left me there for hours and kept coming back to beat me some more. Then he would fuck me, and then beat me again. I just figured it was the way things had to be. I didn't have anywhere else to go, so I had to learn to deal with it."

"One day this lawyer dude came over, all dressed up, fancy briefcase, black guy, nice looking, but really fat. I thought Ben was going to let him fuck me in the living room, which would have been okay with me. But instead Ben put some handcuffs on me and put me in the lawyer's minivan and the guy drove me to his house. He told me he'd paid Ben five thousand dollars for my ass and that he could do whatever he wanted for one week. I tried to run away because it didn't feel right. He caught me in a bathrobe about a block away. Then he chained me to a radiator for most of the week and whipped the hell out of me. He fucked me a couple of times, but mostly he just wanted to hurt me. You know, torture and shit like that. Then after a couple of days some ex-convict he represented came over and he took a crack at me too. Those two guys were out of their minds. They'd do some drugs, and then come after me. I tried to sneak off, but that only made it worse, so I stopped trying. Then after seven days, Ben came over and took me home, but when I got home, all my stuff was gone. Everything. Ben had given all of it to charity. I didn't even have any underwear left. I cried like a little girl. He threw away my pictures. Everything."

"Shit... So that's when Rev showed up?"

"Hell no, it wasn't that easy. That's when Ben went all out on the whole pimp-daddy thing. He stopped fucking me at all and basically just ran a business for old guys and black freaks who wanted to whip and fuck the shit out of the cute blond kid. I was fucking 10 or 12 guys a day. He'd fill up the living room with men and I'd have to take 'em on one at a time. If ever I'd back-talk or cry, Ben would come in and whip me, then we'd start again. I had costumes, dresses, little panties, diapers, all sorts of kink. I liked most of the guys though, and eventually I started to like some of the stuff we'd do and was getting off on it."

"Then Ben just stopped it one day. Told me we were done. He told me to leave. Like where was I gonna go? What was I gonna wear, a diaper and an old prom dress? So Ben said he'd take me to North Carolina and he'd have his friend find me a new Master, which I thought might be good for me because by then I hated Ben. I liked a lot of his friends and the sex and even the weird stuff, but I really hated Ben. Besides, Ben had tapes of me with some of those guys and I knew he'd use 'em. I didn't have a choice, so he brought me here a week or so ago."

"Who is it? This man who owns you."

"Well how the hell do I know? I haven't even seen him yet. It's not like we've been dating or anything. I know he's from Mississippi and he's retired. He owns a bunch of stuff and lives in a big house near the coast. I guess he's black, 'cause that's the only kind of people Rev sells fags to. Rich black guys buying white faggots. Ironic, huh?"

"Yeah. Ironic would be a good word. Ironic."

"What if he's some ugly old fucker?"

"That'd be okay. I don't really care what he looks like. I just need somebody to take care of me again, like Ben used to do. It might be fun. Maybe. Anyways, I can't see how I'm supposed to do anything else. If I weren't here, I'd probably still be turning tricks back at the mall. It's the only thing that I'm good at. Sucking cock. Getting fucked. I don't even like regular sex anymore. I like turning on the old guys. I like the whole dirty boy thing, I think. Feels good when I'm naked and all greased up around some old black man. I like watching them play with my cock and see their eyes pop out when I go down on 'em. Makes me feel really attractive, like I'm famous or something. I'm not much for the whippings, but sometimes I understand why they need to do it and it always turns me on, even when it hurts. I just hope this new guy isn't really brutal, you know, like Rev is."

Ragan hung his head and studied his little cock that was still hard as a rock. A thin stream of cum was dripping out of the tip. He'd talked himself into a full orgasm. He really was a major piece of work... totally fucked up in his head. I wanted to fuck him raw. I really did. At that very moment I wanted to free my hands and climb all over him. I hadn't wanted to fuck another man for months, but suddenly I was desperate to power fuck this boy's ass. He was so cute and so pathetic. My own cock was hard too, but there wasn't much I could do about it while hanging there in the chamber. I wish I could cum like Ragan did. Hands free, no touching... with just talk.

I felt really badly for this kid, uneducated and addicted to the thrill of giving his body away to strangers at the mall. Was it genetic? Had his own dad abused him? Probably not, he'd have mentioned it. He had no secrets. Hell, he had no underwear, apparently. At this point, I probably had no underwear either, so who was I to judge him?

But the sad part was that he never really had a chance at anything else: a sex addict who discovered his favorite poison too early in life. This kid was so hot for abusive cock, that by 20, he was hanging in a NC torture chamber waiting for some rich black granddaddy to come by and pick him up and buy him some new underoos... or some panties... or maybe a diaper. How does that happen? I couldn't even begin to speculate. I was still trying to figure out how I'd found myself in the same place and waiting for the very same thing. Was there a rich black granddaddy out there for me as well? Is that what I wanted? Was it?

"So what's your story Mark?" I figured I owed it to the bald guy to let him speak too. He seemed a little more at home here. Of course, I didn't get to see him being whipped, so who knows how he had reacted? He did, however, have a slightly sinister appearance. I think it was the moustache. He looked like the slave-for-pay actor one sees at parties or on porn DVD's, or at least a poseur who gets off on hardcore BDSM weekends, then heads out for the law office on Monday morning in his gray Beemer.

"Mark, 28, bank teller, sex slave, piss freak, buttboy, cocksucker, bondage lover... standard stuff. This guy named Paulus sold me because he needed the money, so here I am. Someone's coming for me this weekend too, I think, but I don't know who it is yet, or where I'm going."

"Paulus. Paulus? Your Master is Paulus? The motel manager? THAT Paulus?"

"Yeah, why, you know him?"

"Yeah, kind of... I'll tell you about it later. How'd you meet Paulus?" Shocked was not the word...I was gobsmacked! But looking back, I shouldn't have been surprised.

"Heh. Well, it wasn't that different from Ragan over there and that Ben guy. Same path, different names, I guess. We met in an adult bookstore. We had sex in a booth one night. That's how we met, but I wouldn't really call him my Master. I'll have a Master soon, though... from what I've been told."

"That's it? No, now come on, tell us everything. You're not hanging here with us because you sucked off some old fart in a dirty bookstore. It doesn't work that way."

"No, you're right. I've been sucking dick in bookstores since I was in college. My first roommate was a black guy, totally straight, but he had the most amazing cock. He was an exhibitionist and was always showing it off, fucking girls in the bed next to mine at night, stuff like that. He figured out I was gay pretty quick. He agreed not to tell anyone on the hall that I was a faggot if I'd suck him off when his girlfriend wasn't around. He transferred after a semester, and when I got back after Christmas I really missed his cock. I had a real boyfriend, but I just missed the whole black cock experience, and the 'being used' part of it too. So I found a bookstore in a black part of town and started sucking off guys at night after school. Basic stuff compared to this. After a while I lost all of my inhibitions, and I started letting some of the guys fuck me right there in the booth. It was wild. Like Ragan said, it made me feel dirty and gave me a big head rush. Like drugs do for people."

"I'd go by there every night, just about. I didn't ask for money like Ragan did. I didn't need the cash. I just needed the thrill of hot dirty sex. I would only do the black guys. I actually had to learn to like the older ones. I only wanted to suck off the young dudes, but young dudes didn't come in that often. The black guys who showed up were always older, so I had to get past that just to get the dark stuff that I really wanted. I told myself I was doing them a favor, and I think they felt like they were doing me a favor. Win, win. The owner knew about it, but he was cool with it because it increased his business. The longer these guys hung out, the more money he'd make. I'd blow him too, so he liked that of course."

"So you're not a pro, you're just a big ol' whore?"

"Ha, yeah, I guess so, although I did dabble in prostitution a little, but that was later. Mark, manwhore for black cock... at your service."

"So, anyway, you met Paulus, and...?" I wanted him to hurry up. I needed to hear about Paulus, and I figured Rev would come back eventually.

"Yes, yes. Well, after a year of so I looked up and realized that I'd all but disappeared into this trashy world of gay bookstores and dirty old men. I really liked the men I met there. I liked it nasty and quick and anonymous. Sometimes they'd get rough, call me a dirty whore, pop my ass a little. Some of them didn't bathe very often, but I didn't care about that either. The smellier the better. I really liked it. I don't know why. I dumped the boyfriend. All I did was study, go to class, and hang out at this trashy bookstore. I did it 'til I graduated. The manager cried when I left to come down here for a job at the bank."

"You moved to North Carolina just to be a bank teller?"

"No. I was the head teller, and was training to be a manager. I was working my way up. Jesus, I'm only 28. I moved to Greensboro, near here, and it didn't take long to find a bookstore that met my needs. You know, black guys. I went to a few bars and clubs, but it takes forever to hook up in those places. So many games. I just wanted to get fucked a few times, quick and fast, without the dancing and stupid conversation. There was this one place that really turned me on. It was near this black nightclub and the hard-up guys who couldn't get laid the normal way would wander in after midnight, and I'd do as many of them as I could, four or five a night. They were always the old guys or the fat guys or the ugly guys. One guy was missing a leg. I did him too. I did him A LOT. That guy had a huge cock. It took him forever to cum, so I'd save him for last. Sometimes he'd fuck me for almost an hour before he'd finally cum. He liked that I was so patient with him. He was one of my favorites. I actually went to his apartment for all-nighters sometimes. I was his therapy, kind of. I miss him."

"And Paulus?"

"I'm getting there. Well, you know how I said that thing about drugs? For me it works the same way with sex. After a while, I'd get bored and I'd ramp it up to keep it hot. So I talked to the manager of this new place and asked him how much it would cost me to just rent a booth for the night. They run you out if you're not dropping tokens in the movie box. He knew what I was about, so he took advantage of it, even though he told me I was crazy. He let me give him 25 dollars a night and of course, he'd get to fuck me too. He was young and white, but I was cool with it; anything to keep from dropping those damn tokens. So I picked out a booth that only had one really large glory hole, back in the corner of the shop and carved my name on the door with a pocketknife: Mark T. I'd go in and take off all my clothes and just sit there naked or in a jockstrap. It felt really good to be undressed all the time in public like that. I liked it when the guys would leave their clothes on because it made me feel even dirtier. Except for the really repulsive ones. Seeing them naked made me feel really low and sleazy, so I'd make the gross guys take off all their clothes. It always reminded me of how disgusting I was behaving and how desperate these people were. Like I said, I just kept getting bored, and I'd have to ramp it up every few months just to keep the thrill going."

"Like, one day this old black guy came in, skinny but with a huge beer gut. I'd seem him before, but had never had the pleasure. He walked into the booth and pulled out his cock. I got down on my knees to suck it, but when he put it in my mouth, he grabbed my face and held me in place and then pissed a storm in my mouth. I couldn't move, so I had to swallow it. I felt like a total piece of shit as soon as he started, which was perfect. And before he was even finished pissing, I had decided I liked it. I was hard as a rock. I begged him to fuck me, but he wouldn't. All he ever did was piss. So whenever I saw him, I'd let him piss in my throat. It didn't take much to get the other guys to share their piss with me. Some would piss on me after fucking me, and some would piss in my mouth as foreplay. I didn't care. I liked it, so I just made it standard practice. I used to leave that place totally reeking of piss. Loved it. Really, really loved it. I drank so much I'd get sick and puke piss all over the parking lot, but then I'd rush back the next night and do it all over again."

"What about Paulus... was he this pisser guy?"

"GETTING THERE! Jeez. And NO, he wasn't the pisser guy. After that, it didn't take long for me to become a total skank. One day I ran in after work to suck a few cocks before I had to head home for a dinner party at a coworker's house. BJ's, quickies, that's what I needed. That's when I met Paulus. Actually, I knew him already. He banked at my branch. Nice guy, quiet, serious, but never smiled. I saw him when I walked in. He was buying a DVD. We made eye contact, so I winked at him. He followed me back to the booth. I thought he was really sexy for an old guy. I got naked and got down on my knees, and he handed me his cock to suck. After a few minutes he told me he wanted to fuck me. Normally, I would have said no (and I did), cause I hadn't douched out, plus, I was in a hurry. He didn't like the 'no'. He turned me around and pushed me against the bench on the wall. He just wasn't leaving until he'd fucked my ass. He used a bunch of spit and fucked me really hard and fast, like it was important to him. He filled my butt with a ton of cum too. Of course, his cock smelled like shit when he pulled out... It was like what happened with Ragan and that guy at the mall. He grabbed my head and made me suck his dirty dick until I had cleaned off all the shit. Well, it was my shit, so I figured it wouldn't kill me, but I didn't like it. That was the first time I'd ever done that. When I was done with his dick, he zipped up and left. I sat there for a few minutes, actually cried about it, and then I went home too. This was about two years ago, when I was about 26."

"He came in the bank a couple of days later and asked me when I'd be in the booth again. He became a regular. Usually, he'd sit in the next booth and watch me go at it with all the other guys, then he'd come in just as I was about to leave and give me one last really good fuck before I'd go home. He did this kind of thing for months. He loved to watch, get really hot over it, and then pound my ass really good right at closing. That was his specialty."

"I developed this really obsessive need to perform for him. I wanted to know that he liked what I was doing while he watched from the next booth. Sometimes he'd direct. Sometimes he'd bring someone with him for me to do very specific things with. The three of us would get in a booth together and Paulus would direct the action and join in when he'd get really hot for it. Usually he'd tie my wrists together so I couldn't control how fast or hard they'd fuck me. You know how people do, it gets a little too rough and so you back off or make him pull out. Paulus would use handcuffs or rope to keep me from fighting back when it got too rough. That became a regular thing after awhile too. As soon as he'd come in, he'd cuff my wrists and take his place in the next booth. The other guys liked it, and I started getting really turned on by the lack of control that I had. The vulnerability was intoxicating!"

"I never knew what would walk through that door or what would happen. It was great. He had ramped it up even more. I even brought in me own gag one night and told Paulus to use it on me so I couldn't scream or beg for someone to stop doing something that I didn't like. I was a real life sex slave practically living in a dirty bookstore, and I didn't even realize it. And I was paying THEM 25 dollars a night for the privilege! It had gotten that bad. I was totally out of control, but I couldn't get enough of these men. I even used to fantasize about being carried off in someone's truck and left out in the woods in some abandoned shack."

"You seem to know something about Paulus and his motel, so I'll just say that after a while I got tired of the bookstore scene, and so I ended up spending a lot of time at that motel as an alternative. I was working both places. It broke the monotony of the booth and expanded the pool of cocks I could shove up my ass. That's where I got my first whipping, and Paulus was the one who gave it to me. I'm still pissed at that one. That's why I'm so good at everything else I do, and so willing to do whatever you tell me to do. I'd rather walk into a KKK meeting in drag. I'll lick the shit off a pig's ass before I'll bend over and willingly take a strong whipping from somebody. I can handle a little paddling sometimes, but not the rough stuff. No lie, I hate that shit."

"I do like seeing it, though. No offense to you Ragan, but I really dug it when ol' Rev went at you with that belt. Damn that was SO hot. I loved seeing you scream and cry about it, too. I guess I can be voyeuristic with things like that."

"So they never whipped you? At all?" ...asked Ragan, almost out of jealously.

"I got whipped a lot. Still do. I just don't get a raging hard on over it like you two fuckers do. I know what they want, so I do it. It doesn't stop them from whipping me, but it keeps it light, which is okay. They've been inching me in that direction, but Paulus finally got fed up with me not buying into the whole slave-beating thing, and so he told me to get ready to spend some time with Rev. I didn't know Rev, but I'd heard about him from Paulus' girls. They were scared of him. Wait, now you've gotten me all messed up, my story's out of order. Hold on, let me think... Oh, yeah, the whipping thing..."

"So ol' Paulus knows than I'm just a big faggot pervert. So he let me hang out at the motel and do whatever I wanted. He'd arrange things sometimes, but mostly I think he was just trying to keep me safe and close by. It was my own little amusement park. He knew how dangerous it was doing all that shit in that bookstore I was hanging out in, especially with me being gagged and tied up like that. People had been killed near by. He's a pervert too, but he's just smarter about it. We had a lot fun together. I will say that. He was always introducing me to these weird guys who'd want to do really funky stuff to other guys so that they wouldn't have to ask their wives. I used to take goldfish baths with this city councilman. He'd bring in about 40 goldfish, fill up the tub, and then we'd all get in. He'd get all worked up, and then fuck me while the fish swam around in the tub. Afterwards, he'd flush every one of them."

"When did he start beating you?" And for the record, I was more than a little pissed off that he had the run of Paulus' motel while I was always chained up in room 12, popping Aleve just to kill the pain he'd put me through and having to endure the weekly visits of a string of sadists like Rev, although the whole Rev thing did work out in the end, seeing as how I was here getting fucked regularly by the world's hottest cock.

"One week I wasn't really feeling it. So I just left work and went home. Normally that's not a problem because we didn't have a regular schedule or anything. Well, apparently Paulus knows this retired athlete, some guy from out west he's known for years, he wanted to get really sick and freaky with a young white guy who had no limits. I still don't know what he wanted to do exactly. I never did meet him. Paulus had promised him I'd do it, so he drove out to Paulus' motel before he went to the airport to catch his plane back west. He'd been in town to play golf. But I never showed up. I think I went shopping."

"Paulus went all freak about it. He called me later that night and made me come out there. He cuffed me in his bedroom closet and took out a belt and whipped my ass for hours. And I mean it: hours. He told me how he owned my ass and all that shit, which I laughed at. No one owns my ass. I had no way of knowing anything about this famous dude I was supposed to do. He was embarrassed and was angry as hell about it, only he forgot to tell me that this guy even existed. The guy had probably paid him a bunch of money and Paulus had to give it back. He didn't let me go to work the next day. Made me call in sick. Then he kept me tied up. Whenever he'd get a break, he'd come back to his apartment, strip down, and take a layer of skin off my butt with his belt or a paddle. He had to gag me just to keep the regulars from knowing I was in there. I couldn't sit down for a week."

"We would come to blows like that every few weeks or so, and I always ended up being dragged into his apartment and whipped because of some slight or infraction. I had looked at Paulus as a friend and a fellow traveler, sometimes even as a pimp, maybe. I never really wanted a Master or anything. I never called him that. One day he showed up at my job with a cop, a real fucking cop. He arrested me and took me out of the bank in handcuffs. Damn, I was pissed, and I threw a fit out in the parking lot. I knew this guy was a real cop, he'd fucked me a few times, but I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. They didn't take me to jail. They took me to the motel and together they whipped the hell out of me. Paulus had convinced him to file some trumped up charges about vandalism at his precious motel then dropped the charges and kept the paperwork. Probably paid him a lot of money, too. Then after the cop left with some cash, Paulus really went beast and did it all over again." "Now, I worked at a bank, so the manager fired me immediately, which was Paulus' plan all along to get back at me for all those fights we'd been having. And I had a lot of debt, so Paulus paid it all off, college loans, everything. Then he moved me into the motel, set me up as one of his whores, and made me work off my debt to him by servicing his guests. I was a favorite of the truckers. They paid well apparently, but I never saw any of the money. I'd gone from a friend to a prisoner almost overnight."

"Damn, why didn't you call home or something?" replied Ragan.

"Yeah, I started to, but I was embarrassed about the arrest, and I liked the sex too much, so I didn't want it to dry up. I mean, why work at a bank all day when you can lie around a motel room and just be a freak. I loved living there and just being another one of Paulus' dirty whores, and I was the only guy. I really loved it. I'd sleep all day, and at night I'd open up for business and the dregs of society would come in and fuck me, cover me in chocolate sauce, or eat carrots out of my ass. Just about anything. Paulus would encourage them to be creative. He told them I wouldn't refuse them, no matter what. I felt like I belonged there... because I did. I never thought about the bank again. I never missed it. Paulus was right. He really did own my ass, which I was okay with. It was a relief, sort of. I never left the place. And Paulus was still hot for my ass too, so I got to spend time with him, just us, in his apartment, playing house and shit."

"How'd Rev get a hold of you?" And by the way, I was also pissed about the whole apartment thing. Paulus NEVER let me in his apartment. Did this Mark dude even know I existed? Was he even aware of the fact that Paulus kept a weekend playmate in room 12? Was he toying with me here? And why hadn't I ever noticed him before? Had I cleaned his room too, along with all the other whores' rooms I sometimes cleaned?

"Paulus, unfortunately, couldn't make enough money off of me to pay back all of my debts. I went to a private college, had just bought a new car, and had lots of credit card debt. He paid off all of that. He'd have made it back eventually, but a few hundred bucks a night, minus food and room, it wasn't enough for him, and he got impatient. So he put me to work at a few truck stops, too. I'd go out in his car and blow guys at truck stops on the weekends for extra cash. Sometimes I'd get in a trucker's cab and we'd party hard and I'd get fucked good, but usually it was just blowjobs. Boring. I didn't make a lot of money that way. There were too many freebees wandering around. Why pay for head when others are giving it away for free? Paulus just got more and more frustrated. He'd take it out on my ass with his belt, which always involved having someone help him tie me down, because like I said, I don't just stand there and take that shit most of the time. Then one day, he found a stash of cash from the tips I'd been keeping in case I ever decided to move on. Whoa. That was a big mistake. It was over 2000 dollars and Paulus saw it as his money, and he said I'd stolen it. He dragged me out to the balcony and chained me to a post and called Rev. Rev showed up a few hours later and hauled me off for good. He took me to this old man's house out in the country. This guy, Neil, was a fucking retard, really old, and black as night. Paulus owed him big time for something. Before Rev drove off with me, Paulus tied a red bow to a butt plug and shoved it up my ass. Then he wrote a note to Neil on my chest with a magic marker: 'From Paulus, now we're even. Drop Dead.'"

"Neil couldn't get his dick up. I'd suck on that lousy dick for hours and he still couldn't get it up. Pissed him off, too. So he kept me chained up and had me clean his house, wash his toilet, lick his shitty ass, and cook his dinner, that kind of thing. At night, he'd wake up and then drag me out of bed and whip the shit out of me for no reason. Then he'd get down on his knees and blow me and swallow every drop like it was fine whiskey. That's the only time we'd even have sex. It was always in the middle of the night. He'd drag me somewhere, usually with a knife to my back, tie me up, sometimes outside in the cold, beat the hell out of me, then just suck me off. The next day he'd act like nothing ever happened."

"Last week, he went to the post office and had a fucking heart attack. Dropped dead right there in the goddamn stamp line. His sister came out to the house and freaked out when she saw me there chained to her brother's old iron bed. I'd been there for two days, shit myself several times. I was starving. She set me free, and told me to get the hell out of HER house. Angry Bitch. Apparently the whole family thought Neil was crazy, so they never visited him. I made the mistake of calling Paulus to see if he might help me out and give me my old job back. Six hours later Rev shows up and brings me here. I'm on the website right now, up for bid. We'll see where I ended up, because I think someone actually claimed me."

"UP FOR BID? There's a website? Holy fucking shit. This stuff is too bizarre even for me. I have seriously got to get out of here."

Ragan chirped in, "Dude, you ain't going anywhere. We heard him beat you really good a couple of times. You're in this for good. You do seem too old for it though. What's with that? I mean, why ARE you here? Who's gonna buy YOU?"

"Yeah, thanks. I'm not old. 40 IS NOT old."

"My dad is 46, and he's old." Ragan was so quick to judge. Now I really wanted to fuck him up, and then just fuck him bloody.

"So now it's your turn. Ragan and I told you our stories, now we get to hear yours."

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN HERE!!!" Rev came barreling through the door, stark naked and just in time, like in a movie. Clearly he'd heard us chatting away like sorority sisters. "I ain't havin' any more of this shit. YOU FAGGOTS DON'T GET TO TALK!"

What little color Ragan had actually had drained completely from his sickly looking little body. I felt really bad for him all of the sudden. I had started this whole chatty mess, and so I bore some responsibility.

Rev didn't seem to know what to do first. So he picked up some duct tape and slapped a piece on everyone's mouth. Poor Mark. He had a moustache. That was really going to hurt when it came off. Rev then picked up an old belt off of the floor and started swinging wildly and randomly as he ran around the room. I ended up with a few fresh marks, as did Ragan, but for some reason Mark got the worst of it. He took about 15 lashings. For whatever reason, Rev seemed to think that Mark had started everything, so Mark got the heaviest hand. Good for me, I thought. Good for me.

Rev left us for a good long while and returned later that afternoon to feed us, one at a time. Mark screamed bloody murder when Rev pulled off the duct tape, so after Mark ate his one meal for the day, Rev gagged him with a rubber ball that was attached to a leather strap. I guess he felt badly for having pulled off some of Mark's facial hair and damaging the merchandise. In the end, it's always about the money. Of course it didn't keep Rev from giving Mark another round of whippings. This time Rev left Ragan and me alone to focus only on Mark. He seemed to think Mark was some sort of troublemaker. I could tell that Mark was humiliated by it. Rev didn't fuck him, though. He just whipped him really good.

We spent almost all of Monday standing in Rev's chamber with our arms over our heads. He'd come in periodically to check things out. Mark crapped himself at one point and Ragan was cut free to clean up the mess, and of course, Rev had to give Mark a little more belt for messing up his floor. I'm a man of some control, so I held onto my shit, so to speak.

After Rev had his dinner, he came in for dessert, which was apparently Ragan. He whipped Ragan really slowly with a wooden paddle until he noticed that Ragan's little dick had gotten hard, and then he untied him and draped Ragan over his shoulder and made his way to another part of the house. Ragan was crying. Before he ate his "dessert," he came back and cuffed up Mark and myself, ungagged us, and then made us crawl into "my room" on our knees, where we were padlocked for safekeeping. Inside, and safely out of earshot, we could talk again.

We waited for a while before either of us really dared open our mouths. Both of us sat on the single mattress with our hands bound behind us, just staring at the sink. Finally, I broke the ice by announcing that I had to take a shit. It bothered Mark not in the least.

I managed to stand up and make my way to the toilet and sit down again without falling. Mark watched as I did what people do. No paper. Still, no fucking toilet paper.

"Rev won't give us any paper, and I apologize for the smell, but the john won't flush because Rev has the water off. Sorry, but I don't have a choice here."

"It's ok, Chris. I've dealt with worse." I sat there for a while, not really sure what to do after I was done.

"You need to piss, Mark?"

"Why, you thirsty?"

"NO! Rev pissed on my ass the other day to wash off the shit, so I thought maybe you'd be okay offering me the same service. I can't pay you, but maybe I could offer you a blow or something."

"Ha, no problem. Never done it, but I've had it done to me." I bent over the toilet and spread my leg, putting my face near the bowl and Mark aimed his piss at my ass and cleaned it as best he could.

So this is how the two of us cleaned up. After we finished with my ass, Mark suddenly felt the need to go as well, so we switched places. I liked it and found myself wishing that the ass I was pissing on had been Ragan's. I was developing a minor obsession with Ragan, but tried not to think about it too much.

We curled up on the mattress and tried to drift off to sleep without acknowledging the obvious: that we were naked, cuffed, and hard as rocks, and probably on our way to being shipped off to God-knows-where to be the property of God-knows-who in the next few days. We were both scared to death, yet still thrilled at the bizarre life we might soon be living somewhere else... and WERE living, right here.

"What was it like? Chained to a bed for two days, having some old woman finding you like that... hearing that old Neil had croaked. You could have died you know."

"I made that part up... to scare Ragan."

"WHAT!?!? You sick FUCK!" I had to laugh at this part.

"Hahahaha. Yeah, I know. I just couldn't resist. You weren't watching his face. He's a big freak and a whore and all, but not really a one-Master-kind-of-guy. He likes to be passed around like a party favor. It gets him off. Who doesn't? But he's really freaked about this Mississippi thing. He's not really sure what's gonna happen to him down there. So I gave him the scary ghost story version. Just to see him react. Classic."

"Mark, that's some sick shit. Sick. Hell, I believed you, too. And it's not like it couldn't happen. Hell, it probably HAS happened to somebody, somewhere. So how'd you get here, really?"

"I volunteered. I always knew what Paulus and Rev were into. Heck, I helped with the books, and I even helped them reconfigure their bank accounts so no one suspects anything. They are making a lot of money selling faggots. Somebody had to show them how to hide it better. Paulus had a safety deposit box at the bank with over 300,000 dollars in it. Rev's got one too. He had me fix everything. Some of it's offshore now. These guys are getting rich off of people like us, Chris. Really, really rich."

"Wait a minute... you FUCKING volunteered to have your ass sold? How the hell does that work?"

"Well, I exaggerated a little on some of the other details just to compete with Ragan's story, which by the way, I know to be totally true. I mean... the basics of my story were there. I really did hang out in bookstores and that is where I met Paulus. All that stuff was true. Really. I had quite the reputation. That's how I got fired. The branch manager figured it out when he came in to the bookstore for some porn tapes for a bachelor party. He had no clue what goes on in a place like that. He just wandered into a booth to watch a movie, and that booth happened to be the one Paulus hung out in. Only Paulus wasn't there... but I was in my usual spot, next door. He heard something, looked through the glory hole and saw me bent over taking a cock up my ass from some old black dude. That guy had tied up my hands with his belt, had his socks stuffed in my mouth, everything, just like I said. It totally freaked him out. I looked up and saw his face, and so I knew what was gonna happen on Monday. He fired me as soon as I walked in the door. He did have a cop there just to make sure I didn't steal anything. It was all my doing, not Paulus'."

"And it was a major reality check, like someone had put a mirror in front of me for the first time. Only, when they did, I liked most of what I saw. The part I didn't like was the banker part. So I headed out to Paulus' and told him what happened. He figured I'd be moving away, but instead, I offered myself up to work as one of his whores. He didn't have a man working at his motel, just those 4 bitches, so he liked the idea. He liked that I was a submissive too, so the whole slave thing really helped out with the truckers. They got to whip up on a gay dude and then fuck him at the same time. They didn't feel so gay after it was all over. A lot of truckers like that kind of thing. They'll do it with guys, as long as they don't have to reciprocate... but something tells me you know that already, huh?"

"Yeah, I know, keep talking... we'll get to me in a minute. None of this really tells me why you're now here with Rev."

"Paulus made me his lover, kind of. He doesn't really have it in him to be monogamous, as you know, and neither do I, but he liked me a lot.... for a while, anyway. We'd spend time together a couple of nights a week, when he wasn't hooking up with one of his girls.... or with you. So yeah, I know all about you. I recognized you when Rev called you out of the room, when he was beating up on Ragan, but we'll get to that. It was kind of awkward; because Paulus isn't into male-to-male romance, so it was just rough sex, really rough sex. He and Rev and I would get together, and sometimes Ben would be there too, and I really liked being their slave. When I wasn't servicing truckers, I'd help out with the real slaves who were being transitioned down to Rev's place. I started getting really jealous of them. I knew what some of them were in for, and I really wanted to be a part of it."

"Paulus had finally started to get tired of me, so when I offered myself up for sale, Paulus warned me that it wasn't a game, and that I couldn't just walk away. I knew that, but I had all of these debts, and I didn't want to work a real job anymore. I could have stayed on as a hooker, which I liked, but servitude seemed more permanent and safer. So Paulus paid off everything for me a couple of weeks ago, even my car, and I signed everything over to him as my official Power of Attorney. It felt great. Ragan did it too. He just didn't mention it because it's not sexy. He's so fucking shallow. Anyway, it was kind of a shock, because as soon as we did it, he changed completely."

Paulus kept me chained up in his apartment until Ben came down. Ben took over, and started whipping the hell out of me. He treated me as if I were his slave to get me used to the whole thing, and so did Rev. They said they were doing me a favor, and that I needed to get used to it since that was what a slave had to learn to deal with. Paulus dropped me completely a couple of weeks ago. Only this time, it was for real. I started to have second thoughts, but it was too late at that point. I think Rev saw how I was hesitating, so he brought me down here, for safe keeping, until they could sell for good. Paulus told him I wouldn't run, but Rev didn't believe me. It was Rev who sold my car. Paulus had planned to keep it. Rev was really nervous. He said I was too educated and might want to get away. That's about it, I guess."

"So you know about me?"

"Oh yeah. That's when I realized that Paulus had grown tired of me. The relationship we had was friendly but complicated: Slave, lover, whore, employee, financial advisor, just lots and lots of layers. Everybody knew that Paulus had found a new plaything. It was hard to miss, seeing as how he always kept the blinds open to that room you were in. What was it, 12? Sometimes I'd watch from the sidewalk. It was pretty hot."

"Yeah, I guess it was."

"He'd never had a pure slave before... not like you. I was more like an occasional hobby in his mind. He and Rev and Ben had the business, but Paulus wasn't as into the life as they were. Rev's always kept slave boys for a few months at a time, and so has Ben. Paulus usually preferred his girls. Then you came along and suddenly he was into it. He could have had that with me, but I was working for him, and I know him too well, so it wouldn't have worked. You were a blank slate. Ben thought you were marketable, but Paulus thought that you were too old, and he wanted to keep you for himself. Of course, Paulus always tires of his men. He needs someone new. He realized he could make some cash off of you, and Rev was really pushing him to turn you loose, so I guess he did. And now you're here. I figured you'd end up in the ring eventually. After they dumped me off, I figured I'd never learn what happened to you, so I was a little surprised to see you here so soon. I figured it would take a couple of years to break you down. What happened?"

"Last Friday night... I was late."

"Huh? That's it. You were 'late' and Paulus just snatched you up and gave you to Rev? They didn't make a deal with you, or sit you down and have you sign over your shit, or tell you what was going on? They just... uh... took you?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"Chris, these slaves they sell... These guys are WILLING participants, like me. They don't just snatch up guys off the street and sell them on the internet without getting permission. It is a game of sorts, and everybody has to agree to play along at some point. Once you do, they don't let you back out, but still, they don't just go after people who have other options. They only take the willing and the desperate."

"I guess that makes me the exception to the rule, huh?"

"NO, CHRIS... it doesn't. Now, seriously, what happened? They don't make exceptions. And they don't just sell people your age either. The guys they sell are young, like Ragan. Like me."

"Well like I said, everything was good. I LOVED being Paulus' whipping boy. Loved it. I got tricked into it, it's a long story, but once it started, I couldn't let it go. Last Friday things got out of hand at work and I was late, 3 hours late. Paulus went fucking NUTS over it. He completely blew his top. He threw me out. Well, he stripped me down and chained me to a truck out in the rain and some yahoos took me for a ride, sold me to some other asswipes, yada yada yada... Anyway, after it was all over, I went straight back to Paulus to beg him to take me back, but instead he turned me over to Rev. I think Rev saw me and knew I wanted back in, which I suppose he took as giving them permission to sell me. Paulus wants nothing to do with me, anymore. He told me that last Friday. I guess he's already got his eye on some other guy. Like you said, I guess he's tired of me and wants something new. I'd be fine staying here, to be honest. I can't get enough of Rev. I really can't. He's like a drug AND a drug dealer all rolled into one. Rev is going to make me quit my job and sell my shit. He told me that himself. Now I don't know what to do. Honestly, I don't mind the idea, as long as the guy who buys me is Rev, or someone just like him. No one's gonna buy me though. I'm too old, as you guys keep reminding me. That's probably a good thing. I just don't know where that leaves me, especially if Rev makes me quit my job. I suspect they've already dumped my stuff, because Paulus has a key to my place, my car keys, my wallet. He has access to everything."

"I wouldn't worry about it yet. Rev was just trying to scare you to see how you'd take it. I'd bet they don't touch anything until you quit your work. That will be the key. That's your out, you know. If you refuse, you can walk away. What are they going to do, kill you? No. They're testing you. You still have some power. You can still choose to be a part of all of this. I can't. And you know, it's not all whips and chains. Some of the Masters are real brutes, but some of them are nice guys who also like it a little rough and just want a regular boy living in their house, walking around in slave drag. Chris, these guys are all different. Most of them are older and lonely. They like white guys. They like young flesh. Most of them are wealthy and powerful and that comes through in the kind of sex they can have. They can buy whatever they want. The one thing they all have in common is that none of them really wants a standard relationship. They're not capable of that, any more than we are. These guys are rich enough to buy exactly what they want. Some of them want a kid to keep chained up in the closet for nightly whippings, and some of them really want a houseboy, or a cook with benefits. It's kind of like being a live in prostitute and maid, only it's permanent, and you can't refuse them anything. Ever. I'm actually looking forward to it."

Mark and I continued talking for another hour or so. I told him all about my experiences with Paulus. He'd seen me being whipped several times and had actually cleaned my room on Sunday night on more than one occasion. He didn't know about my blow-up with Paulus, so I had to give him all of the details. He was nice, and we struck up a friendship of sorts. Of course, we were both probably in need of therapy. After all, we were sitting there in handcuffs, and we had just pissed the dirt off of each other's ass as if it were something that everyone did for each other. So you can think what you want.

Before we drifted off to sleep, Mark put his head in my lap and gave my cock a very gentle blowjob. It felt really good. I hadn't experienced anything like that in months. I wanted to return the favor, but he wouldn't let me. He wasn't even hard. I kissed him and tasted my own seed, which was nice as well. I couldn't fall asleep until I had taken a pee, and neither could he. So, instead of trying to make our way to the toilet, we curled up in a 69 and swallowed each other's piss, which I enjoyed almost as much as the blowjob.

Tomorrow was Tuesday, and I had so many new questions. Did I really have some sort of untapped power over Rev and Paulus? Could I just walk away and forget about all of this? Did I want to? Could I really live a life of servitude in San Antonio, or Detroit, or London with some old black man, some stranger? Could I split the difference?

CXG