Date: Sat, 23 Jul 2005 23:31:00 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Duped!, Part 4

DUPED!   by Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So how long have you been here?"

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

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

"But you said they fucked you..."

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

"But you're only sixteen..."

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

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

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

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

"No..."

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

"Ready for display?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's actually quite distressing to be held in a close
confinement cage like that - you think you can move
your body, but you can't really, and standing almost
still for any length of time really does wear you out.
 I could feel myself starting to get little twinges of
cramp, and I desperately wanted to throw myself about
a bit, and get some life into my limbs.  It was a
relief, therefore, when the guard ushered a man along
to stand outside.  He was in his early forties, I
guess, and relatively fit looking, dressed with that
sort of casual elegance that screams at you that an
awful lot of money has been spent on his clothes.

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

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

"No, please...."

"Listen, fucking slave, when your owner gives you an
order, you obey, and you obey instantly.  And what's
the problem anyway- you were flaunting that cock of
your in front of the whole audience a few minutes ago.
 You need to remember that it's not your cock anyway
now - it's our owner's, just as every part of you
belongs to him.  And if he wants to take a closer look
at his possessions, you'd fucking well better obey.
Now, get hard, before I use my night stick on you
again."

I did try, really I did, but it's hard to get a real
wood going  when there are other men watching you like
that, especially as they were so close, separated only
by the bars of the cage.  I thought every sexy thought
 I could, but it was no use.  It just wouldn't budge,
and hung there on top of my balls like a limp sausage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No....", I moaned.

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

"Please, why does it matter?"

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

"What do you mean?"

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

"What do you mean?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, sir...."

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

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

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

"Yes."

"Well, it's kind of a double dupe, if you like.
There's a famous short story by a writer who
specialises in writing about men who are captured,
enslaved and used sexually.  He got a lot of requests
asking for a film to be made of it, or one of his many
other stories, but it was thought that we'd never be
ale to get good enough actors to really play the part.
 Good actors are very, very expensive, and the ones
who could really pull it off are famous, or know
they're going to be famous, and just wouldn't do it as
if it was a conventional movie:  can you believe any
of those famous Hollywood actors would be stripped
completely naked, and wanked in public?"

"No...."

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

"What...?"

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

"You mean all this isn't real?"

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

"I'll sue...."

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

"No..."

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

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

"Hey, cut it out..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE END