Sold at auction
We’ve been boyfriends since we were sixteen, but he’s seven months older than me. That might not seem like a big difference but it was to us. He never let me forget that he was senior to me. At first it was just an inside joke, but over time the notion of him being superior to me took on more meaning. Over the years he became more and more dominant while at the same time I was getting more and more submissive. It probably helped that eventually, whenever we had sex I always imagined I was serving as his slave. Eventually he caught on and it lit off fireworks within him.
That was a few years ago. Now we’re juniors in college; I’m still 19 and he’s closer to 20. Now our roles are firmly in place; I am his slave in every sense of the word. There’s a lot I could say about that and about how things managed to get to this point, but right now I just want to tell you about what happened recently. For several years now, a group of wealthy and quite kinky men had been arranging for submissive boys to be auctioned off at high stakes “slave markets” with the proceeds from the “sales” going to needy LGBT organizations in the area.
We’ve always been too young to even attend the events, but this year they lowered the age to 19. Finally, we can go and enjoy the festivities. Or at least I thought that was going to happen. The day the auction would take place, he had me sitting naked on the floor before him, my collar around my neck as usual, my head lowered. This is my usual position he’d put me in when he wanted to “instruct his slave.” He’d speak, I’d listen. It was always a time when he’d be training me to be more like the slave he wanted me to be–and I have to admit that he’s brilliant about this.
So this is what he said to me: “I know you’ve been thinking that this is the first time we could attend the auction as a couple, but that’s not what’s going to happen. I’ve been in touch with the men organizing things and they’ve encouraged me to put you up for sale. So you’re going to be auctioned off with the group of other subs and slaves. They’re happy about this because most of the boys for sale are only subs into various kinks. You’ll be one of only two slaves on the auction block. I’ll be there presenting you and letting perspective buyers know that you’re open to being “trained” by the person who buys you. I should probably should say the one who “rents” you out for 2 nights of service.”
Holy shit! Sure, in the past he’s sometimes given me to people he knows, but only for a couple hours and it was usually just blow jobs or anal. He’s never let anyone else ever slap me or discipline me but he always tells them that if they’re not pleased with my service, he’ll see to it that I’m punished.
He knows damn well that I’d quickly be lost in the masochistic pleasure from being humiliated this way. I know it will be safe because he’ll set some limits, but I have no idea what those limits may be or what he’ll allow the temporary Master to do to me. Wow. This is going to take some mind control of my part. “Slave, slave, slave,” I kept thinking to myself, “put to market.” But he still had more to say about how all this would be happening.
“Of course, you have to be assessed. There’s a whole process for it. You’ll be turned over to the man who will inspect you and give you a rating. High ratings bring in a lot more money; don’t forget that the Doms doing the bidding are quite wealthy and are also quite talented in breaking in sometimes reluctant slaveboys. Don’t worry, I’m insisting that they couldn’t do anything with you that I’ve never already done to you. That’s where the limit will be.”
And fuck me, but that’s an awfully high limit. I’m a little surprised that he is allowing corporal punishment because it’s still all so new . . . I wish I could ask, but that’s how real this is to us. I’m not allowed to ask when he’s speaking to me this way. We worked that out a long time ago because I had a habit of asking too many questions and interrupting him when he was trying to lecture me. This is the most extreme thing he’s ever tried with me and to be honest. I must amid that he’s shocking the hell out of me.
“Don’t worry. Trust me and trust them. These events are so successful because in all the years they’ve been doing this, there’s never been any serious problem. And the Doms know that if they take things too far that they’ll be permanently barred from ever attending again. They’re excellent at managing these things. I’ve seen clips of auctions and also of Master/slave activities. They require a profile with any necessary information. Apparently there’s a premium on a boy who can be used as a urinal, but you don’t have to worry about that yet. Trust me to make my wishes clear. My wishes, Dominic, not yours.”
I bow my head lower because it helps me find what I need within me to surrender to his will about this. I have no choice, not if we’re going to take all this seriously. We’ve both agreed that’s what we want. I agreed to it all. That includes his right to do this to me, even to put me out at auction. Holy shit. I’m overwhelmed with so many emotions. Excitement, fear, humiliation, lack of control, total enslavement–I wonder if he’ll use those words. I think it might be dangerous, that it might make the Dom feel that there’s no limit to what he can get from or do to me.
But he’s not finished. “It’s 10:15 right now. At 10:30 you’ll be taken to begin the assessment process. I’m just warning you that if I get any complaints the quality of your life is going to suffer so don’t you dare embarrass me. Since it’s my first time offering a slave, I’m being evaluated as a Dom. A major part of the evaluation is based on your behavior. I’m sure it would break your heart if I were not accepted because of the way you act for the Master who rents you.”
And with that he makes me turn around and face the front door. Then he leaves me there like that. I’m trembling and there’s a tear in my eye. Of course, that’s a good sign. It shows this is getting to me the way it’s meant to. Total slave. He just proved that to me by the way he’s doing all this.
The door opens. Two men dressed all in white come and pick me up off the floor. For once I”m up on my feet. They load me into a van. Eventually I’m being shaved everywhere, just keeping a trimmed pubic area. I’m told I’m being left that way because some Doms enjoy shaving a boy’s privates. Makes sense. I’m allowed to keep the hair on my head. I didn’t think he would want me shaved bald. He likes my hair, playing with it, pulling it sometimes to move me where he wants me. I wonder if that affects my value on the open market? Shit! I’m thinking of myself as a product. How appropriate.
I shower using a special soap they gave me. They told me to make lots of suds so the scent gets “baked into me.” Sounds weird. And then I find out the shampoo is exactly the same scent. Hmmmm. I wonder why that is. It’s a nice scent, don’t get me wrong. Totally masculine. Wow. What that scent must do for the Dom. After all that’s why this was happening.
Finely I’m showered and dried, then collared with one of their collars, not the one I usually have around my neck. I have to tell you that getting my dick dried by an attendant the way it was really drove home what he’s always telling me, that they own my dick and for some reason have decided to let it hang free and not get caged. Shit, that made me feel even more naked, that the size and shape of my dick is one of the things they will enjoy seeing. Besides that, he hasn’t let me cum for two weeks already. I just hope that whoever it is doesn’t think my dick is too small.
Finally I’m ready. I’m led to another open door. The room inside is dimly lit with a thick carpet, which made me glad because I’ll be on my knees most of the time, I guess. “Okay, Dominic, The man who’s going to inspect you is sitting in that room. Get down on the floor and crawl to him. Keep your head lowered. Do not look at him until he decides to let you. All you should see is the carpet.”
Holy shit! It’s not a large room, but I guess it doesn’t matter, considering what he’s going to do to me. I crawl in, trying to calm my breath. When I get to him. He takes his hand and puts it beneath my chin, then raises my chin so he can look at my face. He’s handsome but older than my father yet well built and with gentle hands, or so I hope. His eyes pierce mine for a while then he moves on and inspects the rest of my face. He has the lights turned up so he can get a good look at me. He caresses my face and moves his hand down the center of my chest and moves to my left nipple and puts his fingers on my nipple and rolls it a bit between his fingers which causes me to make a heavy inhalation. That makes him smile. “Yes. Men will enjoy those,” he says but I’m not sure if he’s speaking to me or just speaking to himself.
Sooner or later both his hands explore my groin and he’s particularly interested in my dick. “Hmmm. Maybe this should be locked away. No. not good. Let them see it and then decide what to do with it. Some might actually get off on what this dick looks like.” I’m blushing like crazey and it makes him chuckle. “Blushing. Adorable.”
He has me face away from him. He’s rough with my back, even checking out my spine. He makes me bend over and show him my hole. Much to my surprise he never touches it. I’m actually surprised. Damn, he never even checks to find out how tight I am. The weirdest thing about the whole ordeal was the way he inspected my toes with both hands. I started getting the idea that maybe this “assessment” is bogus and it’s just the way this guy gets off. He keeps stopping before things get too invasive. Damn, even when he was playing with my face and his fingers were at my lips, I figured he’d force my mouth open and stick at least one finger in my mouth, but now. He was only interested in my lips.
Finally he picks up his phone and makes a call. “I’m finished with this one. I won’t be keeping him for myself. Let the others have a crack at him. Come collect him.”
A door on the other side of the room opens. There they are again, the white-clad attendants. Once again they lift me off the floor and “escort” me to another room. It’s about the same size as the room I was in, no furniture. Eight other boys are there already. They seem to be very affectionate with each other; I guess some of them have been through this before. I’d like to question them but there are lit signs with the word “silence” so we can’t get any info from one another. A couple of the guys check out my dick and make it get hard. I’m the only one here who isn’t caged up. Wow. I wonder why.
Then I realize something. No one, absolutely no one is the least bit interested in showing us a good time. I mean, with the right approach, they could make this into something that would blow our minds, but no. They simply don’t seem to care. They’re the ones who will get off, not us. The purpose of this whole thing is to raise a lot of money, not to educate or motivate the boys they’re bidding on. Our pleasure doesn't matter. It’s really humiliating because it’s not that way it is between the two of us. He makes sure I’m in the right space. That’s why I’m so devoted to him, so devoted, in fact, that I haven’t raised a single objection to being treated this way.
Finally I had to make the guys leave my dick alone. I was about to cum and I’m sure that would have gotten me into a lot of trouble. I realize that the fact that I’m desperate to cum might be a selling point. I wonder if the man who buys me will eventually let me cum while he’s watching. I could hope so, but after all, who knows?
14 of us in all are put in another van and driven to the club where the auction is taking place. I notice that we don’t all smell the same. There are several scents. Even that is a factor.
We’re taken from the van one at a time. They check my collar to make sure it’s snug enough but not too tight. My y wrists get chained behind my back. Someone taps my balls a few times and chuckles when he gets me to grunt, so then he does it a lot more until someone comes over and makes him stop.
Someone attaches a leash to my collar. He leads me through the darkened club to a stage set up with fourteen separate little “showrooms,” each private from the others. They put me where they want me and bind my foot with a long and fancy rope. It’s only symbolic, I guess, because I can probably go anywhere I want in this box they have me in. Wow.
We fill in quickly. Someone comes over to me. “Take the same position you take when your Master is speaking to you.” Fuck. This is the most humbling position I ever have to take. It’s in this position that he reminds me that he owns me completely and that he wants me to learn to become a better slave. Total submission. And that’s how I’m going to be viewed by all the men who come to this event? Wow. There are over 100 Doms attending. Shit, I wonder if a boy ever passes out from all this because I feel like I”m close to doing it myself. But then I found that the hardest part of it all was waiting for it to get started.
And then, finally, it begins . . .
TWO
Men file past but my head and eyes are lowered so I can’t see them until someone raises my head and then orders me to keep it up like that. I’m struck by the way they carry themselves and I wonder if this is what it was like back in the slave markets before the Civil War. They’re all self-confident and don’t hesitate to give commands to the boys they observe. “show me your shaved armpits” . . . That’s awkward because my wrists are chained behind my back. The man observing me chuckles to see me struggle. . . . .“open your mouth and stick out your tongue” . . . I have to stay that way until someone else makes me close it again. “kneel up straight” . . . “bow your head to the ground” . . . I almost fall over . . . . “turn around and show me your hole . . . “ He is standing by to answer any questions, and several men speak with him quietly so I can’t hear what they’re talking about. I’m pretty sure I hear the word “piss” but he told me they can’t do anything with me that he doesn’t do himself, so I’m not worried about that; he hasn’t crossed that barrier with me, not yet, anyway. . . . .
I notice that no one has touched me. Eventually I realize that’s a restriction until the entire affair gets to the point where only a couple men have decided to bid on me and now they can touch me all they want. Now there’s plenty of touching, especially my nipples and balls. I heard one man use the word “cage” and I’m not surprised. Like I said, I was the only boy who wasn’t caged yet. Actually I hope someone will because dammit, I’m so close to shooting a load from the way they’re handling me. But then finally it happens: someone milks me with one hand while torturing my nipples with the other. I can’t help but scream out in delicious agony and humiliation as three men stand there watching me shoot out a copious load. Much to my surprise, they don’t make me eat any of it the way he always does when he allows me an orgasm. I’m relieved. Even though I’ve had to swallow cum when I blow a guy, I still find it really disgusting to have to eat my own. I don’t understand why. That’s just the way it is.
My mind wanders until I hear one of them mention the word “strap.” I hope he’ll set a strong limit to that. “Crying, not sobbing,” I heard him tell them so I’m relieved. I know, however, that I don’t dare fake anything trying to get it over with. He never puts up with that and I’m damn sure that none of these well-seasoned Doms will put up with it themselves. Wow. This is about as real as it could ever get.
Finally, things quiet down. It’s only then I realize this is a silent auction. Interested buyers place written bids for us and one by one, we’re led off with the Doms who bid the highest. I’m one of the last ones to be taken and by then I’m frantic, wondering why it’s not over. Later I found out that the bidding for me was especially high for a number of reasons, and especially since I’d just been drained and therefore it’s even more odious for me to be made to serve as if I’m actually turned on by the entire thing–at the moment all I want to do is curl up and go asleep, but he’s done this to me so many times that I’ve gotten good at pushing myself through my reluctance. Needless to say, it’s probably the one thing I hate the most about being his slave, the way he does this to me to show me that even though I hate this I cannot escape it because this is just how much control he has over me.
I’m back in the submissive position when I see a pair of black jeans in tall boots and feel a smooth hand on my face. “Look at me, boy.” I look up into the most intense blue eyes I have seen and they bore into my very brain. “What a sweet boy,” he says to me and then puts his finger in my mouth. Right away I suck it. “Blow it,” he commands. I treat it like a thin cock. He takes it out of my mouth and dries it in my hair. “Yeah, young slave. YOu’re only a couple years younger than me but that doesn’t matter: I’m the man, you’re a boy and will always be a boy. Shit, I can see you serving my guests at a cocktail party naked and shaved bare while they make me offers for some of your time. Or maybe I’ll just have them watch me whip you before I send you off with one of them. Would you like that, baby, would you?” He’s caressing my face with one hand and lightly toying with my nipples with the other, careful not to hurt them any more than they’re already been hurt. At least I can be grateful for that.
He slaps my face. Hard. “Get back down into the space, boy, the space where your Master likes you best. He’s told me all about you, boy. What he didn’t tell me, however, is about these beautiful eyes of yours . . . how they’re made for tears. Did you know that, slaveboy, that you’re the most beautiful when a Master makes you cry? I’m really looking forward to seeing you that way and once I’ve broken you I’ll take you to my bed and make sweet sweet love to you for the rest of the night. You see, boy, I have this weakness: very quickly I come to cherish the boys I’m training. And, I promise you, boy, you’re gonna fucking fall in love with me and want to do anything at all to make me realize that I’ve stolen your heart. Even though you know I’ll be taking my strap to you every single night. Let me go put in my bid. Let me assure you, I’ll make sure you earn every thousand dollars I bid on your ass.”
Fuck me. I’m hard. He reaches down and runs a finger up the bottom side of my dick but then slaps it several times and he almost does manage to get tears in my eyes already. But I resist. I’m not going to let him conquer me so easily. But I’m scared: he wasn’t just pretending. He really means what he’s saying. I’m torn down the middle. Part of me is almost begging him to claim me for himself, while another part of me is terrified of what will happen to me if he does. This young Dom, only recently out of college, is awakening dark desires within me. He’s so goddamn beautiful in a savage way. He puts his lips mine and quickly floods my mouth with his saliva and I suck for all I’m worth. “That’s not all you’re gonna drink from me, little faggot.”
And he turns away leaving me in such a state that I can’t figure out where I am or what is going to happen next. After an interminable wait, one by one, the boys on the block are claimed by the men who won the bid for them. Some walk after their new Masters, some are forced to crawl. One is carried away by two of those damn men in white, still not knowing whom he will end up serving.
I think I’m the last. The young Master comes and claims me for himself. He has me stand, attaches a leash, and brings me through the back of the club and into a suite of rooms that are obviously well-equipped for BDSM scenes, bondage, punishment, and other things I don’t even want to think about. Another man is there waiting for us. “Shave the slave and cage his dick. Bind him over the spanking stool. Then you can leave. I’ll introduce him to my strap so I see the tears in his pretty eyes before he kisses my boots to show me how grateful he is for my taking the trouble to train him.”
He goes and sits on a couch. I must say that this young Master has a way with words. His friend brings me into the bathroom and hangs me up from the shower curtain so he can get my armpits. Feels so weird. And then my chest, the hairs around my nipples and the little bit of hair on my chest, then the treasure trail. He takes an electric razor and cut back my pubic bush before he takes a blade to me and shaves me as bare as I was when I was born. I feel like he’s stripping pride from me. Right away I wonder what my real Master will think when he sees me like this. I wonder if he’ll decide to keep me this way all the time. I don’t think I’d mind. For some reason it feels really sexy already. Damn, he even shaves my taint and my asshole. Didn’t know I had hairs back there. Never looked at my own before.
He brings me back inside and when the Master looks at me he seems very pleased. “Almost perfect,” he says. “Let’s complete the picture.” He hands something to his buddy. The next thing I know he’s fooling around with my cock and trying to squeeze it into some kind of cage. Fuck, that’s tight! After a couple clicks he stands back to take a look. The Master gets up from the couch and comes over to check. He jostles it and pulls on it then pulls my balls down, not caring about hurting me and ignoring my grunts. “Let us watch you walk around the room getting used to having yourself caged. You’ll be caged most of the time from now on.” It is awkward at first but after a couple revolutions I don’t feel as weird. It’s just that there’s this weight handing down where my dick used to flop.
The Master turns to his friend. “This is excellent. Thanks so much, Ben. I’ll soon return the favor.” Ben chuckles and waves his hand over his head as he leaves the suite.
“Down!” He orders. His voice lets me know that he’s not going to waste time using his words on me. I fall to my knees. He comes over and stands a couple feet away from me. “Kiss my boots!” I have to get on all fours and then use my arms to hold myself up as I lower my face to his boots and kiss each one of them. “Lick!” My first actual taste of leather and it’s a bit intoxicating, but I’m not sure if it’s because of the leather or because he just humiliated the shit out of me and I just took it. Fuck me. I’m meant to be this way!
Finally, he pushes my face away. “Follow!” He turns to another door and when he opens it there is a stone staircase leading down into what I guess is a basement. He stops there and speaks more words to me than he’s said so far: “Turn around. Walk down backwards.” Shit. Like I said, it’s a stone staircase and I do a number on my knees trying to make my way down into what turns out to be a basement set up as a dungeon.
This is no nonsense. It’s a cement floor and the walls are stone. Recessed lighting keeps things pretty dim but manageable. It’s hard to make out what’s in the room. At one point he slaps my face !!!!! “eyes down.” Then, much to my surprise, “Stand!” My feet feel strange on the concrete. It’s gritty. I’m caught looking around again. This time he speaks in a regular tone of voice. “I was planning on giving you six lashes, but since you can’t seem to keep your eyes down the way I told you, I’m increasing it to eight. If you’d like to increase that to a full dozen, keep looking around. Otherwise, keep those fucking eyes staring at the ground.” I start to apologize but he slaps me. “Silence! The only thing I want to hear coming out of your mouth are the sounds you make while I’m whipping you.”
Whipping. Damn, that word hits powerfully. How many times have I ever jerked off conjuring up scenes of boys like me being beaten by their trainers, uncles, or Masters? And now. I’m going to get whipped. I start to tremble but he moves fast. The next thing I know I’m bent over a sort of small table, my wrists are bound to the legs of the table and my shins are also strapped to the front legs holding my legs far apart. He makes a couple adjustments and I realize he’s fixing it so my ass is at the perfect angle. I comes to stand by my head. “Look at this,” he commands. I raise my arms and he shows me the strap he’s going to use on me. It’s about two feet long and very thick. All leather. “Kiss it!” He lowers it to my mouth and when I hesitate, he says “nine lashes.” I kiss it quickly and tears come to my eyes. He hasn’t even started and already I’m about to cry and beg him to have mercy on me. Mercy. That’s the word that comes to mind. Shit. He’s actually going to have me begging him for mercy, begging him to give me fewer lashes.
And then . . . he leaves me there. He goes to the door. The lights are turned all the way down but them there’s a light shining behind me, and I’m not stupid: I realize the light is illuminating my ass. Red light. Before long I’ll be hating that color.
---more to come---