Fucking Shit! Naked Robbie is in "his" doorless bathroom, sitting on "his" toilet, trying to take a dump! AND... standing next to him -- inches away, is his mom and dad! AND his Master black brother, Jamar! Robbie is learning he now gets NO PRIVACY -- NONE! ZERO! You guys keep telling me that what you enjoy most about my stories is the extreme detail I use, which allows you to be in the story, standing there in that crowded, tiny bathroom with naked Robbie on the can and his entire family- PLUS YOU touching Robbie as he craps! Amazing. You'll find more of my stories on GayTies.com.
Sweet Robbie Becomes Family Slave Part 4 of 6
His mom and dad were inches on one side of him, and his brother was on the other with his shins touching Robbie's thigh as he sat there. Then Robbie released a few more turds, and everyone heard the "plunk, plunk, plunk" of the turds dropping into the toilet water. Then he released another long, higher-pitched fart. Everyone broke out in laughter.
Rachel giggled, "That gives me an idea before our next party. Let's feed him a big bowl of beans so we won't have to hire a band!" They all laughed. Robbie teared up and could not remove his hands from covering his handsome face. He was just too humiliated to look up from his seated position on the toilet.
Robbie said he was finished. He thought his family would then leave to give him some privacy. Still thinking about replacing the curtain rod, his dad mumbled, "That's nice." He then asked Rachel if they should put up a crossbar for better support when they tie him to it.
Robbie waited for them to leave, but obviously, they were not leaving. He reached out for some toilet paper to wipe his butt, but the roll of paper was gone. In fact, the little indentation in the wall where it was, was plastered over, though not yet painted. This was a small sign of a powerful statement. Now, there was no holder for his toilet paper. Again, he was shocked and confused. He was trying to ask the question about needing toilet paper. But he said, very sheepishly, "Ah, dad ... I mean Matt, sir, I don't see any toilet paper. Don't I get any to ..."
"Of course you do, boy. Do you think we are all stupid? Just ask for some whenever you need it. And, of course, you never flush until one of us makes a note of your ... ah ... `deposit.'"
"But sir, I need some now." Robbie gently whispered.
"Rachel and I are busy, so just ask your owner." Matt added, "All your efforts to get us to steal toilet paper for you are offensive to Master Jamar. And it delays your getting what you want. Immediate complience is always the best way. Obviously, in this challenging transition period, you will need a lot more supervision. So, here is the new rule on your toilet etiquette. In order for you to take a dump, you need a monitor to watch you. It's for your own good. What if you have a difficult bowel movement, lose stool, or farting too much? How is everyone going to know? All YOUR toilet paper is now in the hall pantry, in a cupboard where you are not allowed to go. When you need to take a dump, you will need to ask someone to supervise you. That person will also be the one to obtain the number of squares of toilet paper they think you need. All of this will be written down in your new toilet log, your "Book of Deposits.
"This brings up another point, so I might as well explain it now. For example, let's say we are having Aunt Judy and your little son, Eddie, over for dinner, and we are all seated at the table enjoying our meal. Of course, you would be on the floor, naked, with your dog dish, waiting for someone to give you their scraps. But I'll explain that part later. But during dinner or any other occasion when we have company over, you are to speak up loudly and announce when you need to fart. Give everyone an alert beforehand so they don't miss it. Or if you need to take a crap, that too, you will announce. These occasions will be some of the few times you are allowed to speak on your own. Then you will ask, `Will someone here take me to the bathroom and supervise me taking a crap?' You will always ask our guests first since we want to show them how well we have trained you. But if they prefer not to, then you will ask one of us."
Robbie was shaking in fear. He was naked on the toilet; his mom and dad and now controlling brother-Master were all standing next to him, giggling at him for farting and stinking up the room. And now he was told someone had to chaperon him each time he took a shit. And he had to beg for toilet paper, and they had to record everything! His dick was getting bigger and bigger the more they humiliated him. It was now pointing to the ceiling and bobbing.
"After your dump, you will stand up and show whoever is supervising you what you deposited in the toilet. After that, and not before, you may ask that supervisor for whatever squares of toilet paper they choose to give you. We will start you out with six squares of toilet paper and see how that works. He or she will then go to the hall pantry, fetch them, and bring them to you. You will use it to wipe yourself and then present your wiped ass to the supervisor. That person will decide how well you did and if you need another square or two." Robbie listened to his dad telling him about his new bathroom procedures and that he always needed someone to watch him. Could anything, ANYTHING, be more humiliating for a mature, muscular 18-year-old? Robbie wallowed in frustration. All these procedures? Just to take a dump? Then he heard Matt say that there was one more step.
"After you are all finished in the bathroom, you will show your supervisor your Book of Deposits.' You are not allowed to write in it yourself, so you will ask the person with you to record the day and time of your dump. You will describe the number of turds, the size, the thickness, and the color, which the supervisor will make note of. Then you will tell him or her how many farts you released in the process and how many squares of toilet paper you used. We want to try to reduce the squares you use so as not to waste paper on you. Then, you will thank that supervisor for his or her assistance. If it happens to be a child or woman who helps you, do not use words like shit' or crap.' Use ... ah ... poo-poos' or `poopies.'"
Rachael added, "Since this is summer when we are all in the backyard playing a game or sipping iced tea with friends, no one will want to take you all the way in the house. So, you would go and fetch your `Book of Deposits' and bring it out where we are. Then you will ask, starting with any guest we may have over, to supervise you taking a dump on the lawn." Rachel paused, noticing that as Robbie squirmed on the toilet seat, his hard dick leaked precum. Robbie was not even thinking about erections; they were the furthest thing from his mind. He was too dizzy thinking of how embarrassing it all just became for him to take a dump. As tears seeped down his face, he never noticed that his dick was slowly bobbing and dribbling. Rachel and Matt were so pleased. They gave each other glances and nods of tacit approval at just how far Robbie had come just today. And how much further they would push him to descend into the depths of submission and degradation.
"Mr. Jamar? Sir? ... Pa ... pa ... please, may I have six squares of ... of ... toilet paper, sir?" He could not look up at his brother as he pleaded.
"Of course, Robbie," he said, feigning care. "I know what you are going through." He stooped down to be eye level with his naked former brother, now his slave toy, seated on the toilet. He put his arm around him and lighted patted his back as a contrived expression of kindness. Robbie thought, just for a moment, that Jamar would be nice to him, and he looked up at him with a tear-wet face and smiled. Jamar then brought his mouth to his ear and whispered. "Sure, I'll get you the six squares, but first, you have to make another big fart and then announce loudly how much you love smelling your farts. You'd better sound and act convincing, or I will leave you here, my dear sweet slave whore." Rachel noticed the whispering but did not interfere with Jamar's control. In fact, his initiative made her feel so proud.
Robbie had no choice. He had to do as Jamar told him, or he would never leave the bathroom. He scrunched his face and twisted his body, paused awkwardly, and ... released a loud fart. "Wow! I am so happy when I fart. God, I love the smell of my stinky farts! I love to breathe them in deeply. What a wonderful stink I make!"
Rachel now knew what Jamar had whispered about. She said to her now sole son. "Honey, that was very clever of you. We are both so proud. We can leave you in charge of `your dear sweet slave boy' anytime."
She added, "Of course, you know generally about our interest in S and M. We share that with you and not with Robbie because you seem so much more mature than your brother. You have always shown respect for our choice of kinky interest. I'm sure you have had questions for the past few years, so Matt and I have a surprise for you now."
"Oh, Mom, I'm fine. You don't need to tell me anything about your private life. I just hope you fully enjoy your world of S and M."
"Jamar, that's what we love about you. And... that's why we want you included. With Robbie's declared interest in being a slave and his strong inner need to be submissive to all of us, we want you to attend our Hardington excursions."
Jamar's face lit up. He was pleasantly shocked and excited to be included in such a significant way. "Wow! I... I... I don't know, want to... Wow!"
"Yes, that's right, because you are 18, we will take you to our kink group, the Overseers Club in Hardington." To Jamar, this was like a birthday surprise and getting the best gifts. "Now, this particular event coming up, is not one of our regular meetings. It's a once-a-year celebration of our achievements. Let me warn you: You will be there as an observer. It's your first time. OK? So, just listen, enjoy, and learn. Learning is a process; you have years to develop into a Master for Robbie."
"So, I can bring Robbie?"
"Yes, of course."
"I still don't know how to thank you. I am amazed and so excited. This is a whole new life for me."
"yes,l for you and for your slave brother. Wouldn't that be grand? We'll be like a big happy family there." Then she whispered softly to Jamar, "Well ... maybe Robbie won't be too happy, but it will be so much fun for the rest of us." Rachel and Jamar laughed their heads off as they left the room.
The Big Event
Rachel approached her son two days later and said, "My dear sweet Robbie, Matt and I have a wonderful surprise for you. We are going to include you and Jamar in our next Overseers Club meeting. It's a special gala event.
"What, Mistress? We're going out to a gala event?" Robbie asked for clarification. "What's a gala event?"
"No, boy, it's a gayla EVENT, like G-A-Y-L-A. It's a highly formal affair; we'll all need to dress to the nines. I'll wear my new formal black lace, full-length gown. Matt, Jamar, and you will all wear formal tuxedos. And, sweetie, you'll be dressed up too."
Naked Robbie was there, bowing to his Mistress, Rachael, who was pondering her son's fate, that is... her new family slave's fate.
Robbie looked up at her, "You mean I get to wear a tuxedo too? And go formal? With all of you? And everyone there will all be super dressed up, too?"
What an odd turn of events. He is bare-ass naked, sitting on the floor. And TOMORROW, he will be with his family in a classy tuxedo and having a wonderful dinner and fabulous Champagne! Well, if you can believe that! Can you believe that? Really?
Robbie's chest was puffed out with pride and elation. He'll be going to a high-society formal celebration in a tuxedo. He was so used to being naked. He didn't even know he had a tuxedo. He'd be a full part of the family again. His head was reeling, his mind was lost in the sensation of being respected and accepted and... and... there'd be lots of girls there too, all wearing evening gowns and big smiles. He wondered if he'd meet someone special and finally have a real girlfriend. FUCK! His whole world was opening up. AND normal again!
"Of course, silly, it's a celebration dinner with gourmet food, Champagne, and wonderful entertainment. It's sponsored by the Overseer's Club of Ohio. They meet in Hardington twice a year for their bi-annual Gayla Celebrations. It's actually a fundraiser, and Matt and I never miss it. We never took Jimal, but we decided he had earned it. And you will join us because, well, because, well... it's time for you to fully appreciate this wonderful event. In your new wonderful life." It's to recognize individual achievement and conduct special initiations.
"Miss... Achievements and initiations?"
"Yes, dear, but it's nothing for you to concern yourself. You can just sit back and enjoy your wonderful dinner.'
On the day of the event, Mom and Dad, his adopted parents, to be more specific, got all dressed up. Rachael and Matt bought Jamar a royal blue velvet tux with a white shirt and a black bowtie. His hair was trimmed up in a fashionable tight Afro. He was dressed to kill. All three were gathered at the front door, where Robbie was kneeling, naked.
"Mistress? Ah... my tux?" Asked Robbie, eagerly waiting for his formal wear.
"Robbie, my dear sweet Robbie, don't worry. You will be formally dressed as well. We must pick up your outfit at the store on the way to Hardington."
"Clothes, Miss?"
"Oh, yes, dear, go upstairs and quickly put on your school clothes. So you'll have something to wear on the way. Don't worry about what you look like. You'll change into your formal outfit soon." He was, once again, normal. Although conflicted and confused, Robbie could not hold back the tears. He could not believe it; all was back to being a part of the family. It felt strange.
"Thank you, ah,... Miss... ah... mom?" Robbie said. Rachel and Matt exchange private winks. All was going as planned.
Robbie ran upstairs, dressed in a T-shirt, underwear, jeans, socks, and tennis shoes, just the clean clothes that had been set out on his bed. Robbie never considered why they were there; he had no access to clothes before but was too excited to question it. He ran back down the stairs. Matt opened the door, and they all made their way to the SUV.
As they drove over, all were chit-chatting, even Robbie, excited to have a mom, dad, and brother again, even though it felt odd. As they approached Hardington, Robbie felt nervous, "Mom, where do we stop to get my tux? I want to dress for you to make you proud." Yes, he called her `mom,' and no one corrected him!
"Sweetie, dear, don't worry. I called the shop and told them to deliver your formal attire to the Grand Empress Hotel, where the Gayla is. That way, you'll be sure to have it." Sitting in the front seat, Rachael and Matt smiled broadly at each other. "And by the way, you will definitely be dressed to make us proud."
Matt pulled the car into the valet parking spot, and everyone exited. All those entering were dressed in spectacular outfits. Most guys and boys wore either tuxedos or full leather gear. Quite a mix. Most women and female teens wore beautiful floor-length gowns, and a few were dressed as dominatrixes. The others wore leather outfits, such as black leather tuxedos with no shirt to show bare chests and many women wore leather pants or skirts and a leather bra on top. So, attendees went from formal conservative to formal kink. Almost everyone had tattoos and piercings. That's the Overseers' membership.
Then, there was Robbie, dressed as a clean-cut high school boy. An older woman looked at him weirdly.
"Oh, my tux is inside," Robbie smiled at her. He did feel bad. He figured his tux was in the back, so he followed his parents and walked behind them and Jamal. They approached a sign at the table where 2 shaved-headed women wore black leather tuxes and nose rings, "tickets?"
Matt produced three admission tickets. The staff then looked up at Robbie and started to blurt out," Oh, he the special..."
Matt quickly interrupted, "Yes, he is. Where does he go to get prepared?"
The ticket taker looked Robbie up and down, "He's cute. All is ready. The Captain will attend to you all in a moment."
They entered the lavish ballroom, where all the tables were set up to seat maybe 400 guests. Matt made his way to the Captain in a white tux. The two of them had an intensive whispered conversation, and then Matt returned to his family, "OK, let's take our seats. And you too, Robbie." Robbie was stuttering, trying to ask where his tux was, but he did as his dad told him and just sat down at their assigned table between Rachael and Matt.
Before long, drinks were served, and then, within 30 minutes into dinner, the Captain stood at the center of the room. A spotlight lit him nicely, and all went quiet. "Ladies and gentlemen, Masters and Mistresses, slaves and dogs," he spoke calmly into a cordless mic. As you know, this is a fundraiser for our Overseers Club. Tonight, we are going to have an auction. And I will need a helper. I wonder if we should have a new member to help me here. Are there any new members here tonight?"
"We brought our dear, sweet Robbie," Matt blurted out loudly. It's his first time, and he will be joining today."
Robbie's eyes bugged out. He was in total shock and terrified just hearing his name. After all, Robbie was timid to begin with. It was his first time here. He just returned to being a normal member of his family. This was too new. And to be helping under a spotlight with hundreds of high-class strangers watching was horrifying. In his dazed-up mind, he repeatedly said, "No, sorry, dad, no, I can't do..." as he was escorted by his dad over to join the Captain.
"Well, thank you, Robbie, for volunteering to help in the auction." The Captain put the mic in front of Robbie's mouth.
"Ah... um... ah..."
"Well said, my boy. Well said," Everyone laughed. "OK, you got the looks. Who needs a hunk with a brain." More laughter. "OK, Robbie, I'll help you get started. I know this is your first time. So, the first item up for bid is a pair of very sexy shoes. So, Robbie, ask them, `Who wants to start the bidding.'"
"Ah... um... who wants to start?" Robbie mumbled into the mic the Captain held at his mouth.
"$50," someone yelled.
"$100," another man said.
Rachael and Matt were watching from afar. Was it odd that they were not interacting with Robbie? No. They wanted Robbie to experience the members controlling him directly without an additional order from them. They were pleased beyond their wildest expectations.
"$120," called a young woman.
"250, I'll bid $250," an elderly man yelled out.
"Wow, Robbie, you are doing great. So far, you got $250 for a pair of sexy shoes." Robbie started to smile, feeling a tiny bit at ease.
"What kind of shoes are they?" yelled a tall guy in the back.
"Good question. Robbie, what kind of shoes are they?" The Captain asked.
"Huh? What? What brand? Robbie said in his state of confusion.
"Yes, what brand?"
"What?" He did not understand the question, `What brand?' He didn't even see the shoes.
"For example, what brand are your shoes?"
Robbie looked down at his well-worn tennis shoes and answered, "What? Oh, these? These are New Balance."
"$300," a redheaded man yelled out.
Robbie's former Black adopted brother, Jamar, just sat there, watching the extreme festivities with his parents. He was waiting for the day to come when he would take complete control of his new, dear, sweet slave boy.
"$400," the tall guy bid again.
"What size are the shoes?" yelled a voice.
Robbie shrugged his shoulders. Never seeing the shoes they were bidding on, how would he know?
"Well," the Captain said, "Robbie, you've got to tell him something. What size are your shoes?"
"What? Ah..." He had to think. "Well, these old things are size 11. But I don't know the ones they are..."
"Size 11," the Captain answered.
"$425," The redhead raised his bid.
"$425, going once, $425, going twice, $425, going three times.... SOLD! to the redhead!"
A very handsome redheaded man stepped forward and approached the spotlight to claim his purchase. He stood there smiling at Robbie and said to him, "I'll take them now."
"What?"
The Captain leaned over to Robbie and whispered into the mic so all could hear, "Well, Robbie, you just sold him a pair of shoes. You must give him something." Robbie had no clue what was going on. He was puzzled.
"Look, Robbie, everyone is staring at you. Let's figure this out." A pause... "OK, give him your shoes for now, and we will work it out later, OK?" The audience was chucking at Robbie's naivete. But Robbie wanted no embarrassment. He nodded, bent over, untied his old, smelly tennis shoes, and handed them to the redhead. Everyone applauded.
The buyer returned to his seat. Placed the shoes up to his nose and inhaled the warm, sweaty insides of the shoes deeply, uttering, "What a fucking bonus."
"OK, folks, the next item up for bid is a pair of socks worn by a college athlete." The Captain glanced down at Robbie's socks, then announced, "These are white cotton gym socks." Then he turned to Robbie, "OK, now ask for an opening bid."
"Ah... um... OK... who will bid first on the socks?" He mumbled. He thought this was the weirdest action ever. But, being in the spotlight, in front of all these high-class people, he had to go along to quickly get this over with. He wanted to get back to his seat with Mom and Dad. He didn't even get to finish his dinner.
Rachael and Matt were grinning with pleasure. Matt even flashed Robbie an OK sign, which pleased the boy. Now, he felt better. He was not about to embarrass his parents, not in front of all these people. He was going to do what was asked of him.
Again, "$50," someone yelled out.
"100, a guy in a leather Master's outfit called out.
$150."
Then the Master asked loudly, "Hold one up so we can see it."
Robbie looked up to the Captain, "What do we do?"
"Well, we don't have the sock here to show anyone. Go ahead and take one of your off and hold it up. That'll do for now."
With the encouragement of his parents, Robbie didn't hesitate. He stooped down, removed his gym sock, and held it high. He even slowly turned fully around, kind of getting into it. Applauds. He accepted the applause as a sign that he was doing a good job assisting the Captain.
"$200."
"$250."
"$500," the Master bid. He wanted those socks!
"SOLD! To the leather man!"
The leather Master was a burly man, tall and must have weighed 240 pounds, but not fat. "I'll take that now, thanks," Robbie handed him the sock he was holding. "And the other." He stooped again, slipped off his other sock, and surrendered it. "Robbie, I am very pleased with you," the Captian told him, "I'm sure your superiors must be proud of you today." Robbie blushed. "Yes, welcome to the club, boy." Robbie was on a new high. This big, dominant man singled him out and made him feel proud.
"OK, next item is a worn pair of jeans freshly soaked with piss. Robbie, let's see you take it from here."
Now, with more confidence, Robbie felt like he was an integral part of the festivities, which energized him and gave him more confidence. "Listen up, folks, we have a nice pair of nicely worn jeans and soaked with piss. That's freshly smelly. Who will start the bidding."
"$300."
Rachael and Matt wanted to get in the bidding, but no. This was Robbie's big performance. He was being trained to obey and serve ANYONE without question. And they were so proud he was learning that now.
"$500."
Then, a pair of middle-aged women stood up. "We bid $600."
The Captain was amazed at Robbie's transformation because people, including his parents, praised him. Then, there was a moment of silence. So, Robbie came on loud and strong, "OK, guys, we have $600. Let's hear more."
"We need a better look at the pants. Turn around and show us."
Without hesitation, he put his hand in the air and slowly twirled. "
So, who will go $700?"
"Where's the piss? Why are your pants not soaked with piss." Robbie ignored the silly remark. It wasn't his pants he was auctioning off. "Where's the piss?"
At this point, a curtain at each end of the hall drew back, and large monitors showed a close-up of Robbie. The room was huge, and there were hundreds of people. The screens were important for everyone to get a close-up view of the boy and his growing misery, not to mention his soon-to-be-seen pants-wetting.
The Caption leaned into Robbie and whispered into the mic so all could hear, "We better give them a look and what pissed-soaked jeans look like, or they'll get upset." He looked up to his mom and dad; this time, it was Rachel, who Robbie saw as the power in the family. She nodded and gave a thumbs-up. Still, Robbie was not sure what to do.
"Look, Robbie, this is a marble floor. A little piss will not hurt anything, so just release a little bit, please, for these fucking bastards." Everyone chuckled. "These fucking assholes don't think you have the nerve to wet your pants. You'll show them. Go ahead, let er rip." And Robbie squeezed his eyes, and soon, a wet spot darkened the fly of his jeans. Robbie started to cry with embarrassment. Applause. He let more go, and the wet spot enlarged to cover the entire front of his pants.
"More. Let us see the full gallon of piss soak those jeans, Robbie," the Captain said. "Do it for me." Robbie's body began to shake. He closed his eyes and trembled, and then he not only wet his jeans, but he was also causing a large pool of pee on the marble floor. "Go ahead, sit in it so we know the jeans are soaked front and back."
Robbie did, and for the first time this evening, Robbie was getting a big stiff dick. He felt so humiliated. Somehow, he knew he had to give all these superior people what they requested. He sat in his piss and rolled around in the puddle. He felt so embarrassed he could not stop sobbing. He was whimpering at feeling disgusted by rolling around in his piss, soaking his jeans, T-shirt, and surely his underwear as well.
On the other hand, he fucking LOVED pleasing others, anyone, doing as told. There was so much approval, adoration, and acceptance. He teared up and even cried aloud.
"$1,000." A new bidder yelled out.
"$1,200, countered a bare-chested, piercing-cluttered punker shouted.
Brother Jamar was looking on, salivating, waiting for his time at home to take charge of this slave. He'd be a great Black Master.
"$1,300 from the other bidder.
"$1,500, came the punker.
Then silence., "SOLD! To the shirtless punk stud for $1,500!" Robbie was still on the floor, wallowing in his piss. The Captain calmed him down. "OK, boy, up you go. The gentleman who just bought your jeans is here." The Captain helped him stand, but Robbie was still somewhat out of control. He did not quite know what to do when he was fully standing. "OK, little buddy, come over here, take your jeans off. Robbie unsnapped the button, unzipped the fly, and tried to push his tight, soaked jeans down his muscular thighs. But they were glued to his legs. As he fought to get them off him, his bare feet slipped on the piss-soak marble floor, causing him to stumble sideways toward the guests seated at the nearby dinner tables and fall on them. You might think that that was a disaster, but the audience loved it. They were howling with laughter. Tight jeans wet with piss, or anything, are just not coming off those legs. He struggled and tried to push them down. It was hopeless.
They loved it when Robbie landed on top of several guests, two men and two women, in their formal tuxes and gowns. Yes, their clothes were ruined for the night, but it was so erotic they fondled Robbie, who was lying across their laps. Several grabbed the jeans and tried pushing them off his legs but couldn't.
"Look," one of the guys said, "You can't do it that way. You must grab the bottom cuffs and pull them off." Robbie was sitting on several people who were bear-hugging him around the chest so the guys pulling on the cuffs could get them off. The two guys slowly pulled down his jeans and slipped them off his bare feet. Big cheers busted out. Finally, the punker got his $1,500 pair of jeans. He returned to his seat, a joyful young man.
The Captain once again helped Robbie stand up and get calm. He now stood there only in his T-shirt and white jockey underwear. There was one other addition to his "outfit," his big, jutting-out boner. After all his work getting out of his pants, he was trying to take deep breaths and collect himself... the show must go on.
"OK, folks. That was quite a show. Hope you enjoyed it. By the way," the Captain said as he turned to the few guests who were sat on by the piss-soaked Robbie, "the club isn't responsible for your laundry bills." More Laughs and giggles. "Now, the next item up for bid is a white cotton T-shirt.
Dazed Robbie just stood there, all boned up, in the spotlight, shown large on the TV monitors. The Captain simply looked at the tag on the back of Robbie's Tee and announced, "OK, this is size large, and the brand is Hanes. It says, `heavy-duty.' So, who will start? And by the way, it is soaked in prime urine for those exquisite smells and tastes." More hoots and cheers.
"$1,000." Then silence.
"Do I hear any more bids?" Silence. "SOLD to our Asian friend in the purple tux." Rachael and Matt applauded louder than anyone. The man came up, and the Captain was helping Robbie remove his T-shirt.
"Please. May I?" the buyer asked, and the Captain nodded. The handsome Japanese lad slowly lifted the bottom of the Tee, but he was taking his time. He grabbed the cotton material and slipped it higher and higher. Robbie lifted his arms; still, the buyer didn't just pull it up and off. He moved it slowly and finally off his arms and hands.
All eyes were on the glorious slave lad. The high-ceiling chandelier lights had been dimmed some time ago. The spotlight directed solely at him was turned up brighter. Everyone in this huge, classy hall was in formal clothes of one kind or the other. Only Robbie had been stripped to his piss-soaked, tented-up briefs. Robbie's semi-muscular body was perfect. He was a defined athlete with smooth skin that was almost hair-free. He stood there with his ever-present boner, full of the shame of lust, degradation, and fulfillment. There was nothing he could do. He was so humiliated. He was nothing. He was everything.
"Well, well, well. Ladies and gentlemen. Seems like we still have one more item. It certainly seems up... way up..." Everyone laughed. "I mean, up for bid." The monitors show chose-ups of his piss-soaked briefs and Robbie fidgeting from foot to foot with embarrassment. He had been trained to never cover up his dick. That training stuck. Everyone applauded his twitching boner in full view.
To be continued....
FUCKING SHIT! Robbie got manipulated into auctioning off his own clothes! Now, he's down to his briefs! Does he have to sell those too? They can't make him sell those, really? He'll be naked in a huge, luxurious hall with dozens of giant hanging crystal chandeliers, where everyone is wearing their finest clothes, leather to tuxedos, adorned with expensive jewelry and furs and... and... Robbie is stark naked, with the close-up camera zooming in on his... his... bobbing, twitching boner? WOW! I'll bet you're pissing in your pants, waiting to see what unfolds in chapter 5. I PROMISE NOT TO DISAPPOINT YOU! Send your comments to me, Bruce Darkforce, at gaydic@gmail.com