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The Hollywood Agency Book -6-
Chapter 21: "Scene 1, Take 2"
"So?" Troy asked as his father hung up his phone.
"He's on his way here now. Sam said that everything went just like we planned."
"Did he sign the contract?"
"Yep," John Meyers answered with a broad smile. "The dumb fuck signed. We've got the little bitch just where we want him. Now that he's taken the bait, all we have to do is reel him in and his ass is ours."
"Oh, by the way, Troy," Meyers continued as he shuffled some papers on his desk. "I invited Taylor and Kerry to our little Sunday afternoon get together."
Troy looked at his father quizzically.
"Taylor I can understand. He's packing some major meat. But why Kerry? I mean, he's okay but he's nothing spectacular – in the dick department anyway. Admittedly, that boy has a fantastic ass but I thought we were limiting it to the guys with really big dicks, guys who will really stretch out Callum's hole, loosen him up for his big night."
"Well, I thought of it as a reward for Kerry, for all the hard work he put in as Callum's fuck bitch," his Dad explained, not too convincingly.
"Reward?" Troy exclaimed. "Fuck, that bitch loves to get his pussy plugged. He should be paying us for providing a hung stallion like Callum to stud him."
His father chuckled. "No question that Callum's loaded in the dick department – probably a compensation for the vacancy upstairs – but he's a nasty fuck. I know Kerry likes to be roughed up while he's getting nailed but he also needs to like the guy who's screwing him before he can really enjoy it. That's one of the problems with gay boys in this business – too often they need some emotional connection to really get it on. Your straight boy-whore, on the other hand, just sees all of it as work and the only emotional connection he needs is with the money he's making.”
Meyers smirked knowingly: “I've seen Kerry getting fucked by Callum and he really didn't enjoy it. As of today, of course, he won't have to worry about that anymore. Callum's topping days are over. But I thought Kerry deserved at least a measure of pay-back."
Troy knew his father's opinion as to the pitfalls of hiring gay models and he didn't necessarily disagree. That was why they always tried to lure straight guys into the agency. Even though they aimed at developing an exclusively straight work-force, it wasn't always possible to be certain that the dude they were recruiting was truly straight. After all, some of them didn't even realize they were gay until the first time they swung on a dick. Kerry, just like Cary and Randy before him, was clearly in that category.
Once having gone to the time and trouble of recruiting and training a guy to take dick, however, Meyers wasn't about to dump him just because he turned out to be gay. Even when it was obvious before training was completed that a prospect was gay, they'd still give it a shot – see if the guy could handle the job. Sometimes it worked out okay, like with Cary, and sometimes they washed out relatively quickly, like Randy.
How Kerry would turn out they'd just have to see. One thing Troy was sure of was that his Father hadn't picked Kerry to join them on Sunday just because he felt sorry for making the boy bottom for Callum. Sorry just wasn't in his father's DNA.
Troy just stood there looking at his Dad, letting his face show that he wasn't buying the load of crap his old man was peddling.
His father gave him a bland look for a few seconds but then let another little smirk show.
"Also," he added, "I thought that having Kerry there might provide an additional spur for Taylor to really get into the swing of things. When properly motivated, Taylor can throw a really mean fuck, too, and I thought having Kerry at the party might provide just the right incentive."
Troy laughed out loud as he saw his Dad's deviousness.
"Callum's going to have trouble sitting down after Taylor finishes with him. Did you see how angry he was while Callum was fucking Kerry yesterday? I thought he was going to explode. He was really pissed at you when you told Callum to make sure Kerry's ass was nice and toasted – just the way Callum liked it – before he started fucking the kid. I thought Taylor was going to actually take a swing at you, right then and there."
His Dad nodded his head in agreement. His dick was visibly hard in his trousers. He had fun planning his next steps.
"If looks could kill, you'd be holding my wake today. Taylor knew better though than to completely lose it. That boy's a pro, he knows what the bottom line is. He managed to control himself but, I agree, it was a close thing. I'm sure he's still pissed at me. So what? Come Sunday, he's going to be taking all his anger out on Callum, not me."
Troy just shook his head, once more impressed by his Father's skill at manipulating their models.
However he had another question on his mind:
"One thing, Dad. How did you know that Taylor and Kerry were together? I mean, that totally surprised me, but I could tell it didn't faze you. I can see Kerry getting involved with another dude, but Taylor? I always figured him as pretty straight."
"I did, too," John Meyers agreed.
"But, you know, the whole straight/gay divide is something of a fiction. In reality, it's a spectrum with males spread all up and down it. Sure, there are some exclusively straight dudes just like there are other guys who are only into the gay scene but, in my experience at least, there's a huge number of guys who are somewhere in between.”
He seemed to think about his words before he went on:
“They may have a natural predilection one way or the other but, given the right situation and right stimulus, they can be amazingly flexible in their sexual appetites. I would guess that Taylor is pretty much on the straight side but, obviously, Kerry was able to tap into his libido and draw him over to the gay side."
"Anyway," he went on "as to how I knew they were involved together, well that was pretty much just a lucky guess. I could tell the first time they met that Kerry was definitely interested in Taylor but that didn't really set off any bells. Taylor was exactly the type of guy Kerry figured to find attractive: dominant, good-looking, but laid back, too.”
He pawed his dick dreamily, having tasted Kerry's goods more than once himself.
“Given what I knew about Taylor's preferences, I really didn't think much would come of it. However, over the next couple of weeks, I noticed a definite change in Kerry. He seemed a lot more relaxed – a lot happier, basically. Even when he began bending over for Callum, which he obviously did not enjoy. I always wondered why."
He looked directly at his son, who seemed to be eyeing his Dad's bulge:
"When I tried to call Kerry on Tuesday morning and couldn't get him, I played a hunch. I called Taylor on his cell and asked to speak to Kerry. Not only was Kerry there, but, between the stunned silence from Taylor when I first asked for Kerry and Kerry's clearly rattled conversation when Taylor handed him the phone, there wasn't any doubt in my mind that they were involved with each other. I bet they had just fucked.” Meyers smirked lewdly again and went on:
“I wasn't about to let the possibilities this opened up vis-a-vis Callum to go to waste. You saw how those played out yesterday. Sunday should be even better."
Despite himself, Troy couldn't help but admire his old man. He might be a super asshole at times – make that most of the time – but he was also remarkably good at reading people.
Meyers took a quick glance at his watch. He sat straight in his chair and pulled it nearer to the desk to hide the fat hardon in his trousers.
"Callum should be here any minute, Troy. You should probably get back out to your desk."
Hearing his father's words, Troy's face fell. "Ah, C'mon, Dad," he pleaded. "Don't make me miss this. Please."
"What's your problem, Troy?" Meyers replied, not giving any ground. "You can watch on the close-circuit feed if you want."
"But it's not the same as being in here, Dad," Troy complained.
"I want to see the little prick sweat. I want to smell his fear. I want to hear him cry like a little bitch when you bust his cherry. C'mon, Dad. Let me stay."
The two sat there staring at each other, Troy clearly hoping that his Father would change his mind, Meyers weighing whether he should. Finally, he made up his mind and gave his son his decision: "You can stay, Troy, but strictly as an observer. I want the whole exchange that's coming to be just between me and Callum. Once he gets into the room, I want you to go sit on the sofa and keep your mouth shut. You're just here to watch and enjoy, not participate. This is my show. But having you here will make everything that much more humiliating for Callum and I guess that's worth the price of your admission."
"Thanks, Dad," Troy replied, grinning broadly. "I won't say a word."
"Okay, then," Meyers replied. "Pull your chair over to the side of my desk. We'll act like you were taking notes and, when Callum comes in, you can just quietly move over to the sofa. But I don't want to hear a peep out of you."
"Don't worry, Dad," Troy assured him. "I'll be as quiet as a mouse."
Troy had no sooner pulled his chair up to his Father's desk and grabbed a pen and a notepad from a drawer than they heard the front door of the agency open. Seconds later, there was a firm knock on the Boss' door.
"Sir, it's me. Callum."
Meyers looked at his son and gave him a wicked grin. "Come on in, Callum. Come on in."
A moment later the door opened and Callum, beaming like a headlight on high, came through the door.
He walked up to Mr. Meyers' desk trying to keep his euphoria in check. Even seeing Troy in the office didn't put a damper on his spirits.
"Hey, Troy," he greeted the receptionist. "It's good to see you."
When he came to a stop in front of Mr. Meyers, his agent gave him a disapproving stare. Confused at first, Callum just stood there. Then, it hit him.
"Sorry, sir," he quickly apologized, as he reached down to peel off his shirt.
In just moments, he was stepping out of his slacks and straightening up. Quickly assuming the proper position, Callum stood in front of Mr. Meyers as he was expected to in his meetings with the man, naked except for the erection trainer restraining his throbbing cock. He was evidently leaking ball-juice.
Looking at the way the skin of Callum's cock was pressing tightly against the entire length of the plastic cock-cage, Meyers was happy to note that the energy supplement was having its intended effect – Callum's cock was straining to erect itself but was prevented from doing so by the chastity device Meyers' had made a mandatory part of Callum's attire. Of course, while the device kept Callum from actually getting a boner, it didn't keep him from becoming sexually aroused, a condition which was unavoidable given the high level of sexual stimulants the boy was ingesting every time he took a swig of his 'energy supplement.'
Pre-cum was already dribbling out of the hole at the end of the penis cap, and Callum blushed as it dripped down in front of him, pooling on the floor.
Meyers raised his eyes to look at the boy's face. It was suffused with happiness and pride. 'Well, pride goes before a fall, boy,' Meyers told himself with barely suppressed glee. 'and I do believe that fall's coming early this year.' Callum had no idea that the reason he felt so proud of himself was actually the one he would soon be destroyed by.
Callum felt like he was going to burst but he knew he should wait for Mr. Meyers to begin. Then, just as Callum was afraid he really might explode, Mr. Meyers turned to Troy.
"Troy, why don't you go sit on the sofa," he suggested. "We'll finish up with the paperwork after Callum tells me how his meeting with Sam Walensky went."
"Yes, Sir," the boy quickly agreed. He gathered up his papers and moved over to the office couch.
Meyers saw Troy perk up at the sight of the model’s backside. Troy sat on the sofa, as promised without making a sound, but clearly started to bone up.
Now Mr. Meyers focused all of his attention on Callum, while Troy basically vanished from Callum's sight. The model concentrated on his Boss, the man he wanted to impress more than anyone. His Agent spoke, while Callum eagerly waited for the moment he could spill the beans, tell of his perfect score, the great things he had achieved with Mr. Walensky.
"Okay, Callum, I'm all ears. Tell me how your meeting with Sam went. Don't leave anything out."
"Yes, Sir," Callum agreed, thrilled that he was finally able to share the great news with Mr. Meyers, tell the man who'd done so much to make him into a successful model just how great the meeting with Mr. Walensky had gone.
"Well, Sir," he began. "I arrived a few minutes early, just like you suggested. I have to tell you I was really happy that you insisted that I wear my erection trainer. I don't know what it was, but fucking Kerry the night before didn't have its normal effect on me. I felt really horny and aroused when I got to Mr. Walensky's office and I was glad I had the trainer on so I didn't make too much of a spectacle of myself walking through the building."
Callum swallowed nervously, but overcame his shyness and wanted to go on to tell his tale, as Meyers interrupted:
"It was probably just the excitement and nervousness you felt at seeing Sam again, after your disastrous first meeting with him."
"Yes, Sir. That's what I thought too," Callum quickly agreed, glad that his Boss seemed to be in such a good mood.
"However, I was worried that my aroused state might offend Mr. Walensky. Fortunately, it didn't seem to bother him at all."
'I'm sure it didn't,' Meyers thought to himself, suppressing a snicker ' The fat fuck was surely having the time of his life!'
"Go on with your story, Callum," he said aloud.
Dutifully, Callum continued. "No one else was in the waiting room when I got to Mr. Walensky's office and his secretary, who seemed to know who I was, told me to go straight in. I knocked on the door and after hearing Mr. Walensky tell me to come in I entered and closed the door behind me. He now smiled broadly, proud of how he had mastered the situation:
"I was pretty nervous right then, remembering how I really screwed things up the last time I met with Mr. Walensky and ended up insulting him, even though I didn't mean to. I wasn't sure what type of reception I faced. But, Mr. Walensky couldn't have been nicer. He got up from his desk and came over and embraced me. 'We got off on the wrong foot at our last meeting, Callum,' he said to me, 'but I'm sure we'll do better this time.'"
Callum looked like he would burst as he told about the truly positive way Walensky had greeted him, while his Boss just sat and watched passively.
"Like you'd suggested, Sir, I immediately apologized to Mr. Walensky for my behavior at our first meeting. I started to explain how I'd been defensive because I was trying to deal with my own personal problems but Mr. Walensky interrupted me.
He said: “Mr. Meyers has explained your situation to me, Callum, and there's no need to apologize. I know how hard it can be to accept the fact that you're gay, that you're attracted to other men, that you're turned on and excited by the prospect of doing things with another man that many people in society would consider disgusting and perverted.”
Callum almost whispered now: “He said: ‘It takes a real man to admit that he's a faggot, like you have Callum, and I'm actually glad that our misunderstanding provided the spur that allowed you to accept the fact that you're sexually attracted to other men.’
Callum went on, by now a blushing little:
"It made me feel real uncomfortable hearing Mr. Walensky describe me that way and call me a 'faggot,' but I realized, as we had discussed, that playing the role of a faggot – excuse me, a gay man – was the only way I could clear up the mess I'd got the entire agency into. So I just thanked Mr. Walensky for being soo understanding."
He looked up again as if he was looking for a sign of approval in his Boss' eyes'.
"Mr. Walensky walked over to a table set along a side wall and picked up a glass decanter. 'Would you like a drink, Callum,' he asked me.” Callum looked a little uncomfortable again after his Agent had told him about drinking in front of clients, but spoke up again:
“I don't really drink that much, other than some beers now and then, but I was soo nervous that I thought it might calm me down, so I said, 'sure.' Mr. Walensky poured us both a glass – I think it was Bourbon, but I'm not certain – walked back and handed me one and then moved over to the couch in his office and sat down. He looked back at me and said, 'why don't you make yourself comfortable, Callum, and then come sit next to me.'"
"Well, sir," Callum continued looking at Mr. Meyers with the smile of a proud little boy:
"It's a good thing you warned me about that because I might not have picked up on what he meant when he said I should 'make myself comfortable.' But I did what you said I should do and stripped off all my clothes and I could tell when I turned back to him that you were right – that's what he wanted. Then I walked over and sat down next to him."
The slightly uncomfortable pause Callum made did not go unnoticed, but he went on:
"He noticed right away that I still had my erection trainer on – of course, it was hard to miss, now that I wasn't wearing any clothes. He asked me about it and I told him I was still having problems with spontaneous and persistent erections, though that, too, must have been pretty obvious to him since he was looking at my cock and it was clearly bulging against the sides of the plastic.”
Callum swallowed nervously:
“My obvious state of arousal was embarrassing but I couldn't do anything about it. I did mention, however, that I had the key to the trainer in my shorts and he could remove it if he wanted to. He said, 'maybe later,' but he was more interested in discussing how I was doing accepting the fact that I was a 'faggot.'"
Callum interrupted his recital of events for a brief aside. He evidently had thought about the events and carefully considered his words, using “big words” to sound serious and intelligent. Troy had actually a hard time trying to hide a wicked grin, but, like his Father, he played his role masterfully.
Callum said: "I know, Sir, you've warned me against using that term and, seeing how my use of it with Mr. Walensky at our first meeting is what got me in trouble in the first place, I really tried to avoid it. I really did. But Mr. Walensky used it all the time at the meeting. It made me really uncomfortable as he kept calling me 'faggot.' I didn't say anything, of course, but it bothered me."
Mr. Meyers smiled. "If you remember back to Tuesday, Callum, this is exactly the point that Taylor made. Among themselves, gay guys frequently refer to each other as 'faggots.' And, once word gets around the business that you're gay, that's the way everyone will see you – as a 'faggot' - though only other gay guys will call you that. At least to your face. It's something you're going to have to get used to."
If anything, Callum felt Mr. Meyers' comments, though obviously meant to reassure him, were unsettling.
The idea that anytime he went for a job interview or a photo-shoot all the other people involved would not only think he was one of those perverts but that he'd have to act as if they were right was profoundly embarrassing. He couldn't believe that for the next two years, at least, he'd have to present himself to the world as gay – as a 'faggot.' But he really didn't have much choice. Not after all the problems he'd created for the Agency. He could only be grateful that Mr. Meyers was willing to go along with the charade. Smiling wanly, Callum returned to his story. "Once I sat down, Mr. Walensky sat himself right next to me and started asking me all sorts of questions, like when did I first realize I was attracted to other men, what part of a man's body really turned me on, how much experience did I have with gay sex.”
He paused for a second:
“I gave him the answers that we'd rehearsed. I told him that ever since high school I'd been attracted to other men though I'd fought hard against it. I said that I was really attracted to guys with muscles and big dicks. And I told him, as we'd agreed, that while I'd only been fucked a few times, what I really enjoyed was sucking off other guys.”
Again Callum blushed as he related the story he had presented to Mr. Walensky.
“You were right, sir. He really seemed to be pleased when I said that. I even told him that I liked being dominated by other guys, having other dudes take charge when we're having sex."
At this point, Callum again broke off from his story.
"You know, Sir, I know we discussed it, but I really felt uncomfortable telling Mr. Walensky that I liked other guys to dominate me. I mean, I think it makes me sound like a sissy. Almost like I'm a girl or something like that."
"We did talk about this before, Callum," John Meyers pointed out. "Remember what I said. It's important for a guy like you, a guy who – let's face it – comes across as a big, super-masculine stud, to show a softer, I'd say 'feminine' for lack of a better word, side if he wants to pass as gay, particularly with other gays.”
Meyers waited a moment to give Callum time to fully understand. He loved seeing the hung, muscular jock struggle to realize he would have to play a 'feminine' role.
“The easiest way for you to do it is to present yourself as a submissive bottom, a guy who gets off being dominated by other guys and who enjoys sexually servicing them. I'm sure you did the right thing by saying what you did. How did Sam react after you made this confession?"
"Oh, he ate it up, sir," Callum admitted, looking down. Meyers perfectly knew something even more embarrassing for Callum would follow:
"He'd been playing with my body pretty much ever since I sat down on the couch. You know, squeezing my nuts, rubbing my stomach, cupping my pecs. He even pinched my nipples a number of times. He said he really liked the way my 'big tits,' that's what he called them, stood out from my chest. Once, he even stuck his hand between my legs and started to feel my ass crack. He really forced me to open my legs for an easier access."
"I'll be honest with you Sir," Callum confided. "It was hard to sit there and keep talking while he was feeling me up. I mean, it was pretty humiliating to be groped and fondled like some bitch and to have to act like I was fine with it – that I actually enjoyed being treated like a cheap whore. But I didn't say anything, sir, and I didn't pull away, even though I was tempted to, more than once." "I'm glad to hear that, Callum," Mr. Meyers interjected. "That might have made things really bad."
"I realized that, Sir, so I resisted the urge to say anything. At one point, when he was playing with my balls, I even spread my legs further apart to give him easier access to my crotch. I did everything you told me to do, Sir."
Callum was pleased to see Mr. Meyers nod his head in approval. He went on with the story.
"Eventually, Mr. Walensky seemed to run out of questions. That's when I volunteered to suck his cock. He told me that I didn't have to, but I told him that I wanted to. Hearing myself say that, I couldn't help but blush but Mr. Walensky didn't seem to notice."
"Anyway, I got up from the couch, moved in front of him and then dropped down on my knees. Mr. Walensky had already loosened his pants and slid them down to his thighs. I looked up at him and made myself smile and then I bent forward and just took his dick in my mouth. All I can say is that even with all the practice I had in the past three days sucking dick I almost spit it right out.“
The look on Callum's face made clear he was disgusted by the remembrance of sucking Walensky's thick salami.
“Don't worry, Sir," he quickly added, seeing the look of concern that crossed Mr. Meyers' face, "I didn't do that. But I came close."
"Did you have a problem with the size of Sam's dick?" Meyers inquired, using direct words on purpose.
"No, Sir. It wasn't that," Callum quickly clarified.
"Mr. Walensky's dick wasn't that big at all. Nowhere near the size of the dicks I'd practiced sucking on here at the agency. It was the taste, Sir, and the smell. Actually more the smell than even the taste. I don't know how to put it other than to say that Mr. Walensky's crotch smelled like he hadn't showered in days. It was really rank. His dick tasted the way his crotch smelled. It was pretty gross, sir. Really."
Meyers had told Walensky to make it hard for Callum. Now he heard firsthand how hard the newest step in the dumb model's training really had been.
"I almost choked on it a couple of times. But I knew if I fucked up we were all screwed so I stayed on it. After maybe five minutes, I guess I got kind of used to it. So I started deep-throating it, like you taught me, sir."
Again Callum paused for a second to lick his lips nervously, but Meyers knew on cam a little editing would make it look like he licked his lips as his mouth watered by thinking about a dick to suck.
"Mr. Walensky really liked that. He said I was a real good cocksucker, 'almost a professional,' he said. But then he told me to hold off – he didn't want to cum too soon. He asked me to suck on his balls. I didn't want to, but I did it. I was afraid his balls would smell worse than his dick. I was right. The stench was overpowering, sir. Really disgusting. I almost threw-up, it was so bad. I could taste my own vomit in my mouth. But I forced it down, sir. I swallowed my puke and just kept sucking on Mr. Walensky's balls until he told me to get back to his cock."
"That was actually a relief, going back to suck Mr. Walensky's dick. After sucking on his balls, the taste of his cock didn't seem nearly as bad.”
Meyers interjected in a considering tone: “Maybe your sucking had actually cleaned his dick, and all you tasted was your own saliva?”
Callum gave his Agent as puzzled glance, but quickly accepted the new idea.
He went on: “Now that it was pretty obvious that Mr. Walensky wanted to cum, I really concentrated on sucking him off. I kept my teeth out of the way, as you guys trained me, and I tried to keep my eyes fixed on Mr. Walensky's face like you'd instructed me I should do."
The naked boy looked down, ashamed and evidently disgusted by his admission.
He gave Meyers a look, maybe asking to be relieved of the duty of reporting his day, but his Agent urged him on to carry on.
"I could tell he was getting close, just by the way his eyes scrunched up and I got ready to suck down his joy-juice like a cocksucker's supposed to do. But just before his cock erupted, he pulled his dick from my throat and out of my mouth.”
Callum clearly was appalled as he went on:
“The next thing I knew, he was shooting off on my face. One spurt landed right in my eye. That really stung. But I tried to keep my head motionless as he continued to unload. By the time the last string of cum dribbled out, my face was covered with ball-slime.”
Callum blushed even deeper, and said slowly:
“However, when I moved to wipe it off my face, Mr. Walensky told me to leave it there. He said he liked the way my face looked with his cum dripping down it."
Troy perked up in anticipation behind Callum's back, as the model said:
"Mr. Walensky kind of helped me to my feet and then pulled me down so that I was sitting on his lap. He maneuvered a hand between my legs and started playing with my balls, which were aching with all the cum in them, and tickling my taint. Then he moved his hand a little further back and started probing at my butt-hole. He had just moved his other hand up and begun squeezing my nipples when the door to his office suddenly swung open. I looked up to see his secretary standing there, his mouth just gaping as he stared at me."
Mr. Meyers had to concentrate hard. He knew the office boy, a sexy young athlete with a profound knowledge of his job, invaluable for Walensky, but also pretty hot to look at.
"I can't even describe how humiliating it was to have him see me like that. Naked except for my erection trainer, my face covered in man-scuzz, sitting on his boss's lap while the man felt me up and played with my tits. I must have turned fifteen different shades of red, sir."
Troy and Meyers both knew Walensky's secretary very well. He was a muscled, hung, deeply devoted young man who would do anything to please his superiors.
“Mr. Walensky seemed to take it in stride. 'Yes, Toby,' he asked his secretary, 'is there something you wanted to discuss with me?' Even as he was asking this question, he continued to fondle my crotch and pinch my nubs."
"'Yes, Sir,' Toby replied, not taking his eyes off me. 'I just wanted to remind you that I'm leaving early this afternoon. I'll be going in a couple of minutes.' Even though he tried to keep a straight face, I knew he had an erection, and it looked like would have been glad to jump me any second.”
Callum again gave a little insight, as he recited what the men he had met thought, or at least what he had guessed they thought. 'Oh, yes,' Mr. Walensky responded. 'I remember you mentioned that. Thanks for reminding me, Toby.'"
" 'Is there anything you want me to do before I go, Mr. Walensky?' Toby asked, still with his eyes fixed on me, the original look of shock on his face slowly re-forming itself into a contemptuous sneer."
" 'No, I don't think so,' Mr. Walensky replied after a short pause. Toby turned to go. But then Mr. Walensky called out to him. 'Toby, have you met Callum before, haven't you?'"
"Toby turned back to look at me. 'Not formally,' he replied archly, 'but we've met.' Now that I was the focal point of the conversation, I just wanted to sink into the floor. I was so fucking embarrassed. But Mr. Walensky didn't seem to notice. Instead, he just went on, 'Well, I think we'll be seeing a lot more of Callum around the office in the future.' “
"Toby gave me a withering stare, looking me up and down. 'There doesn't seem to be that much more of Callum to see,' he laughed, his voice dripping with condescension."
"Mr. Walensky actually joined in the laughter, which made the whole scene feel so much more degrading. 'I see your point,' he finally said, taking his hand and cupping my trainer. Then, almost as if to make my mortification complete, he stuck his hand back between my legs and took a finger and actually stuck it up my rectum. I was so unprepared that I actually squealed in surprise."
"As I sat there, trying hard not to writhe as Mr. Walensky worked his finger into me, Toby broke into a full grin. 'Well, I'll leave you two love-birds to your pleasures,' he said, once again turning to leave. This time, thank God, Mr. Walensky let me go."
"You know, sir," Callum stopped for another observation. "When I agreed to suck Mr. Walensky's dick I didn't think that anything could be more disgusting or demeaning than sucking another man's cock. But I've got to tell you, sitting there naked, draped across Mr. Walensky's lap, my legs spread far apart and fresh semen drying on my face while Mr. Walensky fondled and molested me and his secretary not only watched him doing it, but actually laughed at me as it was going on, was so much more humiliating than sucking his dick. It makes me cringe just to think about it now." "Well, Callum," Mr. Meyers soothed the boy. "I've always told you that modeling is hard work."
"But this wasn't modeling, sir," Callum objected. "It felt more like prostitution than anything else – like I was sleeping my way to the top."
"Callum," Mr. Meyers explained in his most fatherly manner,
"In this business there are trade-offs that you have to be willing to make to be successful,. So much of a model's career is really dependent upon the goodwill of hiring agents and photographers and a successful model has to be willing to do whatever it takes to earn that goodwill. What you have showed me today, and I dare say you showed Sam, too, is that you're the type of model who's willing to go the extra mile to attain the goals you've set for yourself."
"Thank you, sir," Callum replied, grateful for his Agent's support.
“I'm pretty sure you're right about Mr. Walensky being impressed too. In fact, I'm sure of it."
"Really?" Meyers asked, raising an eyebrow expectantly. He was having a blast, but he hid it masterfully, and so did Troy. Playing this kid was such a hoot. How could anyone spend nineteen years on this planet and be as fundamentally clueless and naive as this kid? It was almost too easy.
John Meyers tried to keep his emotions in check. They were getting to the good stuff and Meyers wanted to be at the top of his game when he brought the hammer crashing down on Callum's euphoria.
He needed to be cool, calm and collected, even though right now his own cock was throbbing in his pants as they neared the fruition of almost two month's work – the deflowering of Callum's tight virgin ass.
That was coming soon, but first Meyers had to put on one last masterful performance to properly prepare Callum for his future life as a fuck-toy. What Meyers needed right now was for Callum to set the stage, so he told Callum to go on with his story and then sat back as Callum did just that.
"Well, sir," Callum related, "we sat on his sofa for maybe ten more minutes before Mr. Walensky said I should get up.”
Callum again paused for a second to think about the words Sam Walensky had used:
'We have a number of things to talk over, Callum,' he told me, 'and I think you're going to be pretty happy to hear what I've decided.'
“Just hearing Mr. Walensky say that made me feel much better about myself and pretty sure that I'd at least salvaged the agency's reputation with him."
"When I went to put on my clothes, Mr. Walensky told me to hold up on that because 'we might be having reasons to celebrate in a few more minutes.' Well, hearing that really got me excited, Sir. “
Callum looked like he was waiting for a round of applause as he went on:
“Mr. Walensky got up, walked behind his desk and sat down. I was standing there in front of him, not sure whether or not I should assume the position, then he told me to sit down on one of the chairs in front of his desk. “
'There's no need for any more formalities between us, Callum,' he said. 'I'm sure we're going to be friends, close friends, from now on.'
“So I sat and waited for Mr. Walensky to tell me what he had in mind."
"Then, without any further discussion, he told me I had the modeling job."
Seeing the look of incredulity on Mr. Meyers face, Callum allowed himself a broad grin.
"I know, Sir. Isn't it incredible? I mean, I pretty much figured that job was lost and I was just trying to get Mr. Walensky's forgiveness so he'd consider me – and the other models here – for future jobs. But, no. Mr. Walensky told me that after you called him and explained why I had acted the way I had - you know, being in the closet and all that - that he'd decided to hold off on hiring anyone else until he had heard me out. And, having done so, he was sure that I was the right guy for the job. Isn't that fantastic?"
Callum was bubbling over with enthusiasm. He showed pride as he looked up and gave Mr. Meyers a satisfied grin.
"It's my first modeling job," he babbled, "and I owe it all to you, sir. Thank you soo much, sir. For everything. For all the time you've spent with me, for all the advice you've given me, for all the training you've helped me get. I know that without you guiding me, I just would have been one of those losers out there. But, because of you, I'm going to make something of my life. I going to be a successful model – a model you'll be proud of, sir. I promise you that."
"I'm sure you will," Mr. Meyers responded, his own smile seemingly reflecting the happiness Callum was exuding. "I'm already very proud of you, Callum."
Callum was actually glowing as he heard Mr. Meyers tell him that the man was proud of him.
"Sir, you don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that. It actually means more to me than getting the modeling gig!"
"Well, I wouldn't go that far, Callum," Mr. Meyers replied in obvious good humor. "But, tell me about the job. I want to hear all the details."
"Well, sir," Callum began, "it's for a swimsuit photo-shoot. Judging from the swimsuits Mr. Walensky had me try on during our first meeting, they'll be pretty skimpy and revealing, but I'm prepared for that. In fact, it's probably a good thing that they are so revealing."
"You're going to like this part, sir," Callum added as another aside.
"Mr. Walensky told me one of the reasons he selected me was because of my all-over tan. He said it would really set off the swimsuits on my body. Thank you so much for insisting I get a complete body tan. I would have never thought of that myself, sir."
Callum was clearly dreaming of his first day on the beach now, in the focus of the camera.
"The shoot is scheduled for this Wednesday at the beach, provided it's a sunny day. Mr. Walensky said he'd be there. I know, sir," Callum quickly added, forestalling his Agent, "he'll probably expect another blowjob, but I'm up to it. I'm getting the hang of how this business works."
"He's not the only one, Callum," Mr. Meyers warned his model. "The photographer will probably expect one, too." "Oh," Callum replied, obviously surprised. He looked like a kid that found out that chocolate wasn't free of charge.
"Oh, well," he added after only a moment's hesitation. "I don't like sucking dick, but I am getting somewhat used to it. I sucked Mr. Walensky off a second time before I left. Guess the photographer will just be one more added to the list."
"One last thing," Callum added, his enthusiasm returning, "I almost forgot. The most important thing. The job pays $2,500. I know I only get half but that's the most money I've ever made."
"That's great," Meyers replied, trying to keep the smile on his face, even though he was seething inside. 'That fucker Walensky,' he thought. 'That photo-shoot's a $3,000 job. I should have figured he'd take the opportunity provided by Callum's ignorance to save himself some money.'
Meyers tried to calm down by reminding himself that Walensky had done a real number on Callum today. Of course, just how good a job Walensky had done, John would be finding out in mere minutes. But, if he had delivered on his promises, Meyers could swallow letting that fucker weasel him out of $500 – though actually it was only $250 as far as Meyers and the agency were concerned. The other $250 was coming out of Callum's pockets, though the dumb-fuck would never know it.
Meyers concern for the lost $250 suddenly evaporated when he heard Callum say, "But that's not all, sir. I've got a real surprise for you."
When Callum paused, Mr. Meyers urged him on. "Well, don't keep me in suspense, Callum. What else do you have to tell me?"
"Well, Sir, after Mr. Walensky told me I had the modeling job, he told me he had another possible job for me. He said he was having six friends over for dinner this Sunday night and he wondered whether I'd be interested in helping him entertain them. He told me that all his friends were in the business and that I could really do myself some good if I impressed them. It sounded really great, helping Mr. Walensky entertain his friends and meeting all those bigwigs. I figured I should grab the bull by the horns so I agreed to do it."
"You did what?" Meyers angrily inquired, noticeably raising his voice as he slipped easily into his role as the furious agent. Callum looked at him wide eyed, a little taken aback by his agent’s outburst.
"I only agreed to help Mr. Walensky entertain his friends Sunday night, sir," Callum responded, shaken by the angry reaction his news had precipitated. He had thought that Mr. Meyers would be thrilled
Obviously, that wasn't the case, but the boy had no idea why Mr. Meyers was so upset with him.
"I'm sorry, Sir," he offered apologetically, "if I've done something wrong."
"Excuse me, Callum," Mr. Meyers replied in a voice that sounded almost menacing, "but did I miss something. I am your Agent, aren't I?"
"Yes, sir," Callum meekly replied, not understanding why Mr. Meyers was asking that question.
"Well, just what the hell do you think an Agent does? I represent you in dealings with prospective clients. I – not you – negotiate contracts for your employment. In fact, if you go back and read the personal representation agreement we signed, I have the exclusive right to sign any contract relating to modeling or entertainment work on your behalf. You had no business agreeing to do any work for Sam that I hadn't previously ok'd."
"I'm sorry, sir," Callum groveled, clearly at a loss as to how a meeting which had started on such a high note had so rapidly deteriorated.
He paused for a second and then asked, the concern apparent in his voice.
"Does that mean I shouldn't have signed the modeling contract for Wednesday, either?"
"Technically," Mr. Meyers informed him, "that's right. I should sign the contracts. But practically, in that case, it wasn't a big thing. Sam had already faxed me a copy of the contract that he was offering and I'd approved it before I'd even sent you to see him for the first meeting.”
He looked coldly at Callum before he said:
“I didn't know anything about this Sunday get-together. This is the first I've heard of it. I have no idea what it entails. I'll have to give Sam a call and find out and then we'll work out the details. It's not good that you have already verbally agreed to it, but at least you didn't sign anything."
Hearing this last comment, Callum paled visibly.
"Ahhhhh, sir," he began with a noticeable stutter, "I...I did sign some papers agreeing to help Sam entertain his friends on Sunday."
"Motherfuck!" Meyers allowed himself to scream, "Are you kidding me?" He loved the way Callum was just wilting in front of him, the confident jock-stud who had entered his office just fifteen minutes earlier already a fading memory.
"How could you be so stupid?"
"I didn't know, sir," Callum whimpered, "I just didn't know."
"But you should have known, God damn it. Did you happen to read the papers before you signed them, Callum? Can you tell me anything about what you signed?"
"I didn't really read the papers that closely, sir," Callum admitted, feeling as stupid as his Agent obviously thought him to be, "but Mr. Walensky gave me a copy of the contract after we both signed it."
"Well, where the fuck is it?" Meyers almost barked the question, seeing the young stud flinch.
"It's in my pants' pocket, sir."
"Well, go get it," Mr. Meyers ordered, clearly exasperated by Callum's actions. Meyers actually gave an Oscar-winning performance to rattle Callum's cage even more, and so did Troy, who just waited for his turn.
Callum, his entire body now beet-red, ran over to his clothes, picked up his slacks and frantically searched each pocket. He sighed in relief when he finally located it in the last pocket. His hand shaking, he extracted a folded piece of paper and hurriedly brought it back to Meyers and handed it to the man, who immediately unfolded it and began reading.
Callum stood there nervously as Mr. Meyers read through the document.
His fears that he had really fucked up were heightened when he heard his Agent mutter, "Shit!" and then "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" before a final "Holy Fuck!"
By the time Mr. Meyers had finished reading, his hands were shaking.
"Do you have any idea what you've agreed to do, Callum?" he asked the boy, his voice quivering with barely controlled rage.
Clearly on the defensive, Callum answered, "Mr. Walensky said I would help entertain his guests both during and after dinner."
"And just how do you think you're going to be doing that?" Mr. Meyers inquired, the sarcasm heavy in his voice.
Callum was stung by the tone of the question and became a little petulant.
"You know, sir," he replied, "I'm really not stupid. I figured I'm going to have to suck his guests off. I knew Mr. Walensky wouldn't be offering me $7,000 just for being friendly to his guests."
Meyers could feel his eyes widen as he heard Callum mention the figure of $7,000. His gaze returned to the document and he re-scanned it quickly. 'Fuck,' he swore to himself when he came to it. Callum was right. The Agent had missed that on his first read-through. That bastard Walensky had agreed to pay $7,000 for Callum's services. The figure was supposed to be $6,000, the standard rate for a single entertainment gig. Walensky had upped it by a thousand.
Normally, of course, Meyers wouldn't have objected to a client offering to pay more for the services of one of his models.
Today it was different though, since they had set up a trap for Callum, tricked him into a 'deal' to further solidify Callum's training.
The agency was picking up the costs of the contract, including the costs of paying the model his fifty percent, but now, thanks to Walensky, the Agency would have to pay Callum $3,500 for his night's work, rather than the going-rate of $3,000.
Meyers could understand Walensky screwing the Agency out of $500 for the Wednesday modeling gig – Walensky had saved himself half a grand by doing that. But Walensky didn't make any additional money by screwing around with the Sunday contract – the extra $500 the agency had to pay would go to Callum, not him. That fat Fucker had screwed Meyers for the pure pleasure of screwing him.
Right now, there was nothing he could do about it. Meyers was sure that there would come a time in the future when he had a chance to pay Walensky back for jerking him around.
He knew he was going to greatly enjoy doing just that.
What John could do right now was channel the real anger he felt towards Walensky against Callum. He could feel himself getting red in the face as he let loose on the boy.
"Sucking cock? Is that what you think you've agreed to do? Suck some cock for a couple of hours?"
Callum had never seen Mr. Meyers so angry. He was almost too afraid to answer but he did manage to squeak out a 'yes' and nod his head.
"Well, boy," Mr. Meyers spat out. "Let me set you straight on exactly what you've agreed to do."
"First off," he began, "this is a standard personal entertainment contract that we use all the time here. It's not, as you seem to think, for 'a couple of hours.' Personal entertainment contracts run for a minimum of twelve hours. You've obligated yourself to be at Walensky's house 'entertaining' his guests from 6:00 pm on Sunday night until 6:00 am Monday morning."
"Oh," Callum meekly replied, surprised by the length of time he'd agreed to be at Mr. Walensky's dinner.
"And what do you think, boy? You think you'll just be sucking cock for twelve hours? Hardly. Oh, you'll be sucking cock alright," Meyers raged at Callum, his eyes just boring into him.
"You'll be on your fucking knees downing dick for an hour at least, but after that, I'm sure you'll be tossing the salad for all of Walensky's friends, too."
"Tossing the salad?" Callum repeated, clearly not understanding.
"Giving them rim jobs. Eating out their asses. Jesus, kid," Mr. Meyers questioned him with barely concealed contempt, "don't you know anything? Walensky's guests are going to expect you to stick your face into their ass cracks and lick out their shitters until they're sparkling clean."
"Fuck that shit," Callum exclaimed in shock, some of the old Callum briefly resurfacing.
"Fucking the shit comes later boy," Meyers sneered, brutally explaining the facts:
"After you've cleaned out all the assholes in the room, they will bend you over and fuck yours." Meyers loved the look of sheer horror on Callum's face as he absorbed that piece of news.
Meyers wasn't about to leave it at that, however. This was even more fun than he'd imagined it would be. He proceeded to lay out Callum's up-coming evening in graphic detail.
"You'll arrive at 6:00 pm. Knowing Sam, he'll have you strip down right away – show you off to his guests. I imagine cocktails will last an hour, maybe an hour and a half. You'll probably start out serving them, but it won't be long before you're put to better use – on your knees, sucking dick."
"Dinner will provide you with a little break, though you'll almost certainly be expected to help serve. His guests will take that opportunity to get to know you better – or at least to get to know your body better. They'll goose you, feel you up, try to stick a finger up your boy-hole, in short all the normal things you'd expect when you've got a boy-whore serving dinner to a group of guys who are all planning on fucking him senseless before the night is over."
Callum just stood there, his eyes transfixed on Meyers', his body literally shaking as the man laid out the boy's evening at Walensky's.
"After dinner, Walensky will suggest they all return to his recreation room where they can relax. He'll lead the way and then, when they get there, he'll tell them all to make themselves comfortable. They'll all take their lead from him. Some will strip down completely, others will simply remove their trousers. Then they'll start in on you."
Meyers went on mercilessly briefly looking over to Troy, who sat on the sofa, clearly loving the scene that unfolded right before his eyes. Troy was hard, and so was Meyers, who used several colorful metaphors to describe the night to scare Callum even more.
"I suspect that they'll start out with having you do a little ass-munching. Having a sweaty butt-hole cleaned out by a good-looking stud's tongue can be a real turn on. Of course, seeing how they will have just finished eating dinner, you'll have to expect a certain amount of flatulence but that'll just increase their enjoyment of your ministrations. I'm sure a couple of the guys will have you work on their cocks after you've cleaned out their holes for them, getting themselves prepped for the main event."
Callum was listening in, pale as a sheet, as Meyers told him details he never thought of:
"Sometime around 9:30 or 10:00 pm, Walensky will get things rolling. He'll have you lie down on a sofa or a low desk, spread your legs, and begin fucking your boy twat. Once he's broken you in, it'll pretty much become a free-for-all. They'll be going at you non-stop for the next five or six hours.”
Meyers watched the horror in Callum's eyes, his contorted face, his mouth open for a scream that never came.
“Early on, one of them will get tired of waiting for his turn at your butt and start using your mouth while his buddy continues working away at your rear. From that point on, there'll only be a few random occasions when both of your fuck-holes aren't being plugged."
"Eventually, though, probably around 4:30 am, by which time your stretched-out boy pussy will have been leaking a steady stream of man-juice for three or four hours, even the horniest guest will finally have his fill of you and you'll be able to get a little rest, though by that time your entire body will be so sore it'll be difficult to actually fall asleep.”
Meyers paused briefly:
“At 6:00 am, Walensky's staff will help you to your feet and escort you to the door and let you get dressed. They might even fuck you once or several times more, since Walensky won't be there.”
It didn't seem possible, but now Callum was even paler than before. He seemed to have a dreadful vision, and Meyers loved seeing his model squirm.
Meyers did not openly show how much he loved telling the sexy model all the details of the events Callum would possibly go through. He kept a straight face as he continued:
“Only then you will be allowed to leave, reeking of other men's cum, uncontrollably farting used spunk into the seat of your pants, the very picture of a boy-whore after a long night's work."
"And that, Callum," Meyers concluded with real scorn, "is what you agreed to do when you signed Walensky's contract."
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