Marketplace (42 page)

One of Ron’s friends
thought I had a good chance to win this leather contest, and
started telling me about them. It seemed like a great deal. You
strut around in sexy clothes, make a speech and wave your dick at
the judges, and if you win, they send you on trips to bigger
contests, and lots of guys want to fuck you. If you lose, at least
a couple of hundred guys saw you on stage and got to check out the
goods. So, I signed up to be a contestant.

As far as Ron went, that
was a big mistake. When he heard that, the first thing he did was
call me up and tell me to get out of it. I wanted to know why. What
was the big deal? Well, Ron had this thing about leather contests.
He thought they were full of what he called ‘Naugahyde Nellies,’
guys who dressed up in new or borrowed leather and faked their
interest and dedication to the leather lifestyle. The way Ron saw
it,
he
was living
a leather lifestyle, not these guys in fancy sashes, and he
resented their automatic role as community leaders.

Well, I have to admit I
didn’t see it that way. To me, that was all just politics. I
figured that Ron just had something against contests or
contestants, and that he was trying to pull his top man stuff on me
in something he thought mattered to me just to see if I would
listen to him. So I argued with him. I told him I was just doing it
for fun, and that the world wouldn’t end if I just danced around in
my underwear a little bit. And then, he told me that if I competed,
I could never be his boy.

Now, you gotta understand
that I thought I was his boy. Sort of. I mean, we never made it
formal or anything, but I called him sir, and he was my man, and I
thought of myself as his boy. So I got real hurt, and we yelled at
each other, and then he just hung up on me. I was so pissed, I
didn’t call back. And I entered the damn contest and I came in
second place.

That night, it seemed that
every guy who didn’t sleep with the winner wanted to sleep with me.
For weeks, I had my pick. But they were never what I really needed.
They weren’t tough enough, or top enough, or caring enough. I would
go home with them, even spend a weekend with them, and then not
miss them when the next weekend came around.

I floated around like that
for a while, and even dated another woman for a few months. I found
two guys I thought I could call master, but neither one of them
worked out. One of them wanted a slave who was more of a
muscle-guy, and the other was really a bottom himself, and he hoped
he could bring out my top side. Then, I heard about another
contest, and signed up for that one. I hadn’t talked to Ron in
almost a year. I avoided The Shaft on nights when he used to
go.

During the second contest I
competed in, suddenly I knew I wasn’t going to win this time
either. First of all, there were only four contestants. One was
sponsored by this local gym, and he was a walking statue, man, just
perfect. Muscles on his muscles, and a jock that was so stuffed
with meat, you could have sliced it for lunch. The other guy was
all hairy, and kind of older looking and short, but the last guy,
the only other contestant, was the producer’s lover, or boy, or
whatever. And two of the judges had just spent the week sightseeing
with the guy. I mean, what a set-up. I went through it feeling like
the world’s biggest asshole. When I came in third, I wanted to
shove the cheap plastic trophy up the producer’s nose, and the
long-stemmed leather rose up his boy’s ass, and get the hell out of
the contest world, the scene, and the leather life.

What I didn’t know when I
stomped off to get my clothes was that this guy named Paul saw me
from the audience. He came looking for me afterwards. While I was
pulling on jeans and thinking of how soon I could move out of New
York, he asked me if I was seeing anyone right now. I thought he
was just another star fucker, so I figured, maybe I’ll get laid
tonight and feel better in the morning. So I told him I was single.
And then he smiled. He told me that he knew what I needed, and that
if I did, I could find him outside where the air was
cleaner.

He reminded me of Ron, even
though he was smaller, older, and had a beard. I didn’t have
anything to lose, so I met him outside. He had a motorcycle and a
spare helmet, and I went back to his place with him.

I guess I sound easy. I’m
not, really. It’s just that some kinds of men make me ready to give
up everything for them. And Paul, like Ron, was real. I had enough
of prancing around in my underwear. I lost Ron, and I didn’t intend
to lose Paul.

What I didn’t know about
Paul was that he was a spotter, or an agent, I guess, for the
Marketplace. He told me that he was personally responsible for over
thirty people entering the system. He had no slaves of his own, at
least not in the apartment he was living in when he met me, and he
wasn’t interested in them. What he liked, he told me, was finding
good merchandise, testing it out, and sending it on. Would I like
to be tested?

At that point, I was so
hot, I would have agreed to be sold away, lock, stock and barrel!
And so for a couple of weeks, he beat me, tied me up, trained me to
talk in certain ways, and fucked me standing, kneeling, sitting,
bent over, upside down, on my belly, on my back, and every which
way but out the door. And he told me he liked what he saw. But if I
was serious, he said, I’d need to quit my job and move in with him,
to see if I could live it full time.

It took a lot of thought,
but I decided I’d give it a try. And those weeks were the best
weeks I ever had in my entire life. I was his total slave. He used
me any way he wanted to, any time he wanted to. He stopped dealing
with me like a human being and made sure I could take it. And I
kept on doing my best to please him. Once I made the commitment to
leave my job, I had to. I had no where else to go. So I kept asking
him when I could go to the Marketplace. Over and over again, until
he finally said I was probably as ready as I’d ever be, and he
called his old pal Grendel. And that is how I ended up
here.

Chapter Twenty

It took several days for
Sharon to really recover, but her work still had to be done, or
they all suffered. Whatever she couldn’t do, they chipped in to
help with, warning her that they couldn’t keep up that kind of pace
forever. Sharon wisely held her tongue and tried to do as much as
she could, and no one had to be beaten much more than
usual.

It was disturbing, however,
when Robert was called out to the field behind the paddock, and
ordered to do something that just didn’t compute. Sharon was laying
back on the grass, still damp from the hosing that Jack gave her
before she went back to the house. Alexandra was there, waiting for
Jack to bring out her favorite horse, and she just pointed at
Sharon and told Robert to “Fuck her.”

“Ma’am?” Robert said,
hesitantly. He had just bid farewell to his sensei, and his
jockstrap was knotted into a little ball in one hand.

“Don’t make me repeat
myself, Robert. Just do it. I want to watch. Do you need some
help?”

Robert swallowed hard and
looked down. He certainly did. Sharon was told to get to work, and
when her now-familiar lips caressed him, he sighed and moaned until
she drew back from a healthy erection. She affixed a condom neatly
on him, covering it with her mouth in one smooth motion. She was so
good, he barely noticed what she was doing. With a nod from Alex,
she lay back down, gingerly, because of the bruises still on her
rear.

“Please, ma’am,” Robert
said, kneeling down, “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but shall
we try another position? I don’t want to hurt her.”

“How considerate,” Alex
agreed. “Very well, try it spoon fashion.”

Facing each other, Robert
helped her wrap one leg up around his hip. Like animals in the
field, he suddenly flashed, the image burning through his
soul.

“Oh, yeah,” Sharon sighed,
as he slipped into her. “Oh, yeah, fill me up!”

Robert closed his eyes. The
fantasy of being a beast mating before an amused owner, a
performing animal doing tricks out in the field, slaves together,
wrestling for mistress’s amusement and titillation...

He trembled and began to
stroke back and forth, holding onto Sharon, holding her up at one
point. He heard Alexandra call out to him, lift her up, and he did,
turning onto his own back, keeping himself inside her and giving
her time to adjust her balance on him. As she rose above him, he
closed his eyes again, and remembered how this was the way his
mistress used him, and with several long, shuddering thrusts
upward, came close to coming.

“Ma’am!” He cried out. “Oh,
ma’am, please, please, I’m... shall I hold it, ma’am?” He barely
knew if he could. The heat of the sun, the sensuous feel of the
grass, and the steady, hungry rocking of the woman above him were
overwhelming. He groaned, almost drowning our Alex’s
reply.

“No, don’t hold it,
Robert,” Alex said, smiling. “Finish well. And then get back to
work.” She took the reins from Jack and mounted her horse, and
watched Robert and Sharon rock and thrust their way to
pleasure.

It was all preparation for
a very special entertainment coming up soon.

* * * *

“What?” Robert was so
flustered that he lost control of his role. But Alex was pleased to
note that his voice remained consistent with his normal one. He no
longer scaled it up when he was surprised or in pain.

“Claudia has asked for you
to be her first male partner in typical heterosexual style
intercourse,” Alex repeated. “And, after a consultation with her
mistress and several days of making sure that you could serve
properly, and that she was not really that much afraid of the
process, we’ve decided to allow her this boon. We’re doing it
tomorrow night.”

“Um, ma’am?” Robert said.
“Please...
we
are
doing it tomorrow night?”

“Yep.” Alex leaned back in
her chair and smiled. “Grendel had an idea that he’d like to watch.
I agree, it’s something we don’t have a chance to witness every
day. So we will be present when the deed is done, and we expect a
certain amount of entertainment from it. When Sharon asks if you’d
like a blow job tomorrow, I think you should turn her down, save
yourself for Claudia. In fact,” she leaned back forward and jotted
down a note, “I’ll tell Claudia the same thing. Sharon will think
she’s getting a day off! Well, that’s it for tonight, Robert. You
may go now.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,
ma’am.” In a daze, Robert stood, bowed, and left.

* * * *

“Are you sure?” Robert
whispered. He and Claudia were alone in the bathroom, but he felt a
foolish compulsion to keep his voice down, if only for her modesty.
“You can do so much better! Surely Grendel...”

Claudia shook her head
firmly. “He doesn’t really want to, Robert, and... well, he’s very
nice, and I’m sure he would be gentle, but... I like you. You’re
kind, and smart, and you’re always nice to everyone. Even to
Sharon, who calls you names and makes fun of you all the time. If
we weren’t slaves, I’d, um...” She blushed. “I’d like to be your
friend. I think you could be a lot of fun. And I know you’ll try to
make me happy.”

Robert was taken aback by
her simple honesty, and he had to sit on the only seat available.
He clasped his hands together and sighed, and looked so comical
that Claudia giggled. When he realized what she was laughing at, he
stood back up and faced her.

“I’d never want to hurt
you,” he said firmly. “And if this is what you want, I’ll do it. I
hope I’m good enough for you, Claudia. I’ll... I’ll be the best I
can.”

She ran to him and hugged
him, the first hug he’d felt in months. Together, they stood on the
cool tile, breathing into each other and relaxing in each other’s
arms.

* * * *

It was truly an event.
Claudia and Robert were even sent to different ends of the house to
clean up after dinner, and Sharon was told to prepare herself for
some use. Neither Brian nor Sharon was told exactly what was
happening.

Brian was summoned to
Alexandra’s playroom slightly ahead of time, where he was met by
Chris. Chris examined him, and then buckled restraints on his
wrists and ankles.

“I didn’t realize that I
was going to be part of what’s happening tonight,” Brian
said.

“You’re not, really,” Chris
replied. “And sadly, you still talk too much. Open.” A gag was
stuffed into Brian’s mouth, and buckled around his head. A
half-hood, with a blindfold, followed it, and then Brian was
pressed down onto all fours. He grunted into the gag as a butt plug
invaded his asshole.

His ankles were linked
together, and something pushed under his belly. It felt like a
block of some kind. He bent over it perfectly, his hands and knees
touching the carpet on either side. Chris attached the wrist cuffs,
and the wrapped lengths of leather strap around his forearms,
running the straps alongside the box to wrap around Brian’s upper
thighs. Straps buckled over his shoulders and waist. As Chris
checked each binding, Brian tested them, trying not to move much.
It wasn’t difficult. The arrangement held him immobile, half
kneeling, half supported, bound to the box that supported him and
strapped into a position he could not stretch in.