I. INTRO
"Istvan was right. Those were the easiest jobs we pulled since we started." Mikhail was talking to Ivan. They had just handed off the third of the three "captures" of the day. It had all been so easy. If there were difficulties, they would be with the captures' new owners. Out of their hands. Steve Rich, a police officer; Chad Simons, a new professor at the university's business school, and Ramon Chavez, a college jock who's specialty was swimming, had all been purchased and turned over to new owners. "WAIT!" the reader may be asking: "What the hell happened? Max and Ron: slave traders? And who are these other guys?" And that brings us to Part 1. As soon as he sold Ron and Max the camera, Istvan had gotten in touch with Mikhail and Ivan. They were in the United States. Istvan had taken some photos too: his store, however decrepit it looked, was equipped with very state of the art technology. He had their photos for his "business partners," and once he ran Ron's credit card, he knew where they lived. Now, it was up to Mikhail and Ivan to get the camera and, well, to get into business."
"Hey, that's a nice one. Would you mind if I took a look at it?" Mikhail sidled up to Ron: he had the phone that day, and he was taking photos downtown. Ron had been thinking "a handsome young business executive would be nice tonight." Mikhails question had caught him in the middle of shooting a guy with blond hair that needed to be cut, and green eyes. "SHIT" Ron thought, but then figured that there was lots of talent in midtown. "Oh, uh, Ok.." Ron looked around. It was a busy part of town. The guy wasn't going to steal it. "NICE. Has a good heft to it. It was made in my home country" Mikhail smiled. Ron looked as quizzical as Maxwell could. "How do you know?" Mikhail smiled. "It has the 'look'. And have you noticed it's heavier , just a bit, than the phones you had in the past?" "YEAH. Now that you mention it. I notice it when I'm carrying it in my pocket. " "Now see this? " He pointed to what Ron had thought were just scratches in the metal. "This is my native language. It tells me it was made there, and it's signed 'Istvan'." "HEY YEAH! I remember that the guy's name was Istvan. WOW. I'm impressed!" Mikhail smiled. "Not a lot of technology comes from my home, so this... this is impressive." Now he had to work carefully. "Would you be willing to sell it?" He could see he had Ron's attention. Ron looked at him, eye to eye. "Make an offer." "6000.00" Ron gulped. If this guy were offering 6000.00 for a phone, something was up. Something was DEFINITELY up. Did he know about what the phone could do?" "Uh... I dunno. It's really not mine. It's my brother's. I'd have to talk to him. " Mikhail laughed. "Of course. Wanna call him now?" Ron shrugged his shoulders. Whatever Max said, he wasn't selling it. He'd ask though. "HOW MUCH? " asked Max loud enough for Mikhail to hear him. "I know. I couldn't believe it either. I said no." "Good thing. Ask for 10. He'll never pay that much." "10,000." said Ron. "That's what my brother wants for it." Mikhail smiled. "You drive a hard bargain. We should do this inside. I want no one to see the transaction. You could be robbed. Easily." He smiled, and the smile told Ron that he could take the money, or he'd be parted with the phone very, very easily. They found a diner nearby, and sat at a booth apart from the other customers. Mikhail reached into his shoulder bag, and first pulled out a folded up, smaller bag. "You'll want to carry the cash in something." Then he put his leather jacket on the table so as to block sight lines, and pulled out 4 blocks of cash. "Each block is 50 100 dollar bills. You can count them if you want." "WAIT. How do I know whether or not they're counterfeit." Mikhail smiled. "You don't. It's a risk. But... " He turned to the cashier, who was also the owner. "I bet that gentleman has more experience with counterfeits than both of us put together. You can check with him. And, by the way: I was ready to go to 20k for the phone, and this is all yours. Just pull a bill out at random, any stack, and check with him." Ron was suspicious, nervous, and scared all at the same time. He went up to the cashier "Excuse me Sir... My friend wants to pay with a 100 dollar bill, but I worry: is this real? I don't see a lot of them." Peter took the bill in his hands and scanned it with his eyes. He held it up against the light. He found the security strip reading "USA 100". He found the watermark: Ben Franklin as bright as day. Finally, he reached into the draw of the counter, and pulled out a pen. He ran it over the bill. "It's iodine. if fake, it'll turn black. " He ran the pen over the bill. The color of the "ink" remained yellow." "It's the real thing. But we don't take such big bills. Sorry." By now, Ron was sweating. "No, no, it's fine. Thank you for your trouble Sir." He went back to the table. "We have a deal," and he joked "coffee's on me."
"Hey Ron, I tried to call you but..." The guys were back home. "You couldn't because...." he was in Max' bedroom and he opened the sack. "HOLY SHIT. That's what 10 grand looks like?" "No, it's what 20 grand looks like. " Ron puffed out his chest. "I bargained up." Max smiled. "Well, I'm glad I got my feather, and it was fun being a magician. We're gonna have to both get phones now." Ron made a fake sigh. "And I guess I'll have to start paying for my boys. Ah well...."
MIkhail used the phone immediately to tell Ivan: "DONE." Remember that Ron and Max hadn't activated the phone function in that strange country. They did it in the US. Now, they had to deactivate their account. Fortunately, the provide was opened, 24/7. They reported a loss, answered a bunch of questions, and that was that. Mikhail noticed that the phone function had stopped working the next morning before they went out. It didn't matter. The two of them wondered where they should try it out. They decided on the University: lots of people: THOUSANDS of people. Two foreigners like them would blend in easily, and if, by some chance, this worked, it would take a while to figure out what had happened, if the American police ever figured it out. See, Istvan was well known for his ways in his home country, and he was watched, all the time. But that country was not known for its phone technology. The two of them felt fine as they headed out. They were at the university by 11, and by 1, they had well over 100 photos. They got back to the cheap apartment they shared, and started editing. They settled on a dozen guys. They went to their site on the dark web. "ATTENTION SHOPPERS. GUARANTEED DELIVERY. PICK YOUR PRIZE, AND THEN PICK HIM UP. 25K EACH OR THE HIGHEST BIDDER. ACT BY 6 OR... NO DEAL AS HOWIE SAYS." They were new to this, and the photos were not edited as well as they could be. That made them much more appealing to many of the gents who saw that website. And by 6, they had three deals. Then they took down the photos: they figured they needed to "move merchandise" quickly, so they would want the guys at their place between 8 and 10, and out by midnight.
II. The first man they summoned was Chad. He was 34. He had recently finished his PhD in business, and was teaching in the MBA program at the university. It was his first job. Chad came from what one might call "pedigreed stock": he had a thourghbred's look about him: reddish brown hair, a trimmed moustache, a lean body that he had obtained playing squash. He had longer legs than you'd expect, and a shorter torso. He fancied bow ties, and he had been wearing one when they took the picture. He knew he was being photographed, and smiled. The smile is what did it for Travis. Travis had calculated, recently, how much he spent on call boys and "escorts" It amounted to at least 1000 dollars a week. When he saw the site, he couldn't believe the luck: he could cut his expenses by half, and using the dungeon built into his basement, he would cut his expenses by half. The short time frame saved him because half of a couple had been interested too, but he didn't want to bid until his partner, a successful lawyer, came home. That was after 7. Next time, they'd act faster. Just like on the trip in Central Europe, when they summoned Chad, he came. His bowtie was gone, but he wore a tweed jacket, corduroys, and a striped heavyweight oxford shirt. "Evening. It's Chad. You wanted to see me?" Chad was as good looking in person as he was in the picture. Travis was waiting. He felt his cock harden. He would own this man in a few minutes. He pulled out the cash - the website was quite clear: cash only. "All here," Ivan said, after he finished counting. "He won't listen to you, so just tell us what you want." "I want his wrists tied. Behind him," Travis told Ivan "Chad, put your hands behind your back." "Yes sir," he answered, "ow. That stings a little." Travis laughed. "it'll be ok." "You go with Travis now, chad. You listen to him." "Yes sir." Mikhail advised Travis that he shouldn't expect this level of compliance to continue. He checked the phone: they had taken the picture of Chad as he left his 11 o'clock class, so it was just about noon. "He'll be wondering what happened by noon tomorrow. Act accordingly. "Will do." He turned to Chad. "You get in the back seat. Lay down there." "Ok Sir." Travis smiled as he slammed the door shut. He couldn't believe it: he had his perfect man. It took Travis about half an hour to get back to his house. He checked the clock: plenty of time to get in a fuck, maybe even two, before he'd lock chad in the dungeon to begin his "orientation." "You ever had sex with a man, Chad?" "I played around a couple of times as an undergraduate Sir. Never anything serious. "Well, you're gonna do serious things from now on." Travis pointed to a spot on the floor, right in front of a chair. "Get on your knees. You're gonna suck some cock." "Yes sir," Chad answered, and his athletic body got into position. Travis sat, after he had opened his pants. He pushed his cock into chad's waiting mouth. He closed his eyes. "OH YES. SOFT LIPS, AMATEUR TECHNIQUE. ALL MINE."
III Ramon Chavez had the olive colored skin that everyone who came from his country did. Competitive season had been over for several months, and he had let his hair grow long. He'd have to shear it back soon, but for now... he liked the sort of "matinee idol" look it gave him when he had to push his bangs back from falling over his right eye. He swam the shorter, faster distances, and he had a sprinter's body: long, lean tapered. His "wing span" as they called it, was huge. Indeed, his nickname on the team was "Aguila" or "Eagle." His girlfriend just called him "tickle tommy." Ramon's middle name was Tomas, and it was a secret from everyone but Sonia and his family, that the way to get Ramon to do anything you wanted, was to tickle him. Sonia used it just about more than anyone ever had because, well, Ramon also had a very long, very thin tongue, perfect for eating pussy: except he hated to do it. If she could sneak up on him and get her nails under his arms, he was helpless. It was eat her out, and pee his pants from laughing. She always won. It wouldn't take long for his new owner to figure it out either. Gustav Miller had inherited a fortune from his parents. While the origins of that fortune were dubious, Gustav really couldn't answer questions about it, because he didn't know. His father had never told him about the business, and he kept everything secret after he found Gustav with his legs in the air and the gardener in bed with him one time. His father, Herr Miller, was a very practical man, and he did not want to give up a superb gardener. His son, on the other hand, was exportable: he had three others. Gustav found himself in a boarding school in the United States "that depraved country," Herr Miller had spat out, and when he died, he left the business and the equivalent of 50 million dollars to his three other sons. Gustav received the rest of the estate, which came to 30 million dollars. He was now one of the ten richest men in the country, and one of the 100 richest men in the world. Depraved? Perhaps. Financial genius? Definitely. Gustav was at the point in his life when he wanted to start pulling back from work and enjoying himself. That meant with "someone," although what it really meant was someone who resembled that gardener. When he saw Ramon's photo, he wondered: could it be (yes, sort of: the gardener at his father's home was Ramon's great uncle). Gustav rarely smiled, and he didn't when this transaction was completed. "PETTY CASH" he muttered. "They need a better business model. AFTER I get what I want." Ramon arrived at the "pick up site" after swimming practice. It was difficult to find a shirt he could afford that also fit him properly, and the pale blue polo he was wearing was no exception: an inch of his washboard stomach showed. He wore white shorts that were shorter than they were intended to be, because of his legs. "YO. You guys wanted to see me?" He said as Ivan opened the door. Gustav, who was trying very hard to hold down the cheap scotch they had given him, stood up and his mouth dropped. "YOU. OVER HERE." Ivan turned to him. "He wont' listen. Only to us." "I SAID OVER HERE BOY. NOW." Both Mikhail and Ivan were shocked when Ramon answered "yes sir." He walked over and Gustav ran his hand through his hair. "You're going to come and live with me. Understand?" "yes sir. Will I still be able to swim?" "We will discuss that. NOW LET US GO." He put a hand firmly on Ramon's arm and led him out to his sedan. He spoke to his driver, and off they went. It was a longer drive than Travis had, and Ramon had begun to doze off when they arrived. "STRIP. EVERYTHING OFF. IMMEDIATELY." "Yes sir," Ramon answered, and did what he was told. "NOW ON THE BED. SPREAD OUT." "Ok Sir... Please don't hurt me Sir" Gustav smiled. He had every intention of hurting Ramon. "Do what you're told and it won't be too bad. " Ramon felt the restraints on his ankles. As Gustav worked, he brushed against Ramon's pit, and Ramon giggled. "AH, Ramon... you are ticklish?" "Yes sir. " "WHERE?" "All over Sir" "Let us see." Gustav ran his fingers through Ramon's armpits: off season so he hadn't shaved, and the young man began to thrash. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHA. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA. AGGGGGGGGGGGGGH. AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH." "This will be very useful young man. For now... It is not necessary. " He dropped his pants. Ramon's legs were so long that, when he spread them, they gave him plenty of room to enter the young man. As he pressed in, and Ramon began to moan, Gustav thought "He is no virgin. This man has been fucked before." And he was fucked three more times before the 24 hours were over.
IV
Steve Rich would soon learn that you can't escape the past. He had reached Detective rank in the police force, but after he had been kidnapped and enslaved for the second time by Rigger Rich, and taken to Florida to live as Rigger's slave, he wanted nothing to do with the NYPD anymore. Instead, he became a private security guard for the University. With his credentials, they had no trouble in hiring him, and because his story had become well known after he had escaped the second time, everyone understood his career choice. Rigger had never been captured, and Steve kept a watchful eye. He tried to be in places where there were lots of people, ALWAYS. He triple locked the door of his house and kept the windows locked. He was gay, and a bottom, but the level of discipline and domination that Rigger brought to him was more than he wanted: WAY more than he wanted. He also disliked the "sex shows" Rigger made him do when he brought home other bottoms. "Rigger," or as he was now known "Crusher," had spent a great deal of time hunting for Steve, not successfully. He had followed leads, and none of them had ever led to "my bitch" as he thought of steve. "SONOFABITCH. IF THAT'S NOT STEVE I'LL FUCKING BOTTOM" he yelled at the screen when he looked at the photos. "SHIT. I'M FUCKING BIDDING RIGHT NOW." Of the three, Steve had provoked the only bidding war: it seemed that Crusher wasn't the only one taken by a humpy, 5'8" policeman with a resemblance to a young Robert Conrad and a big smile. Crusher was still "in business" as he put it, and had recently completed a deal. He had a stash of 100 grand he had to move. "If they're selling for 25k as a floor, they've got more merchandise. I gotta get to know these guys," he thought, after he had been declared the winner for 60k. "Hi. I'm Steve. You called for me?" Steve was wearing his usual 501 jeans and a black polo shirt that hugged his arms. When he walked into the pickup place and saw Crusher, his smile disappeared. "GEEZ. I didn't think... I didn't think I'd see you again, Rigger." "HEH HEH HEH. Never say never steve." Mikhail looked at Ivan , then Crusher. "You two know each other?" "Yeah. Sure do. This was my bitch for years. Escaped. Told him I'd get him back. Didn't I steve?" steve answered in a low voice. "yes sir. Yes you did." His hands went behind his back. Crusher pulled out a set of cuffs, and a collar. "Not that this hasn't been fun fellas, but... we got some catching up to do. HEY, you guys got a card? I may want to do business with you again. Not just with... buying and selling meat." He turned to steve. "WHY THE FUCK AREN'T THOSE TITS OUT?" "Sorry Sir. I ... I..." "OUT WITH THEM" "Yes sir." "Not here boys, not here, " Ivan laughed. "It's ok. I just wanna make sure that this bitch remembers his place." "I'm sure he does. Looks like you won't need the twelve hour period to wear off. "NAH. If you look up the word 'bottom' in the dictionary, steve's photo's there. LET'S GO FUCKTOI." Crusher shoved steve out to his refitted taxi. "We got a whole lot of shit to catch up on." He put steve in the front seat, next to him and draped his arm over steve's shoulder, resting on his right nipple. "Gonna pick up right where we were, stephen, right where we were: you under me, shaved, my cock in you, making sure I get pleasured real well." "yes sir," steve answered, feeling his cock swell. Crusher saw it and laughed. "Yeah, let it grow now. Once it's locked, it won't be."
Mikhail looked at Ivan after the last pick up. "Where tomorrow?" Ivan shrugged his shoulders. "You know, Ron was in midtown and.. well, crowded, filled with young men, handsome older men. Either that or we wait outside a gym." "Let's do midtown tomorrow. Gym the next day. After that, who knows. HEY, do you know if the website transmits to countries other than the US?" Ivan laughed. "I'm sure it does. We seem to have done well in the US." "Yeah I know, but... let's go to international status tomorrow." And that was their big mistake. The local police had closed down Istvan and, given the state of justice there, he was "cooperating" rather than face "interrogation." The guys would have two more days before the police closed in on them. What happens? Stay tuned.
TO BE CONTINUED.