August 13, 2018
This is the second chapter of discreet stories about men who are captured and sold into sexual slavery.
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In 1963, gas stations were still “full-service” venues, often owned by gasoline companies and franchised out to entrepreneurs in cities across the nation. One of these franchises was through the Tidewater Oil Company, founded in 1887, its western stations were later purchased by Humble Oil, and after 1966 they were purchased by Phillips Petroleum. But in 1963, they were still the “Flying A” gas stations. There was a time, after the last World War, when gas stations were customer service paradises.
Groups of handsome young men, many veterans from the war looking for jobs upon their return from Europe or the Pacific, found quick opportunities as these gas stations. But over time, the men gravitated to better jobs, and those who remained were fewer and fewer in number. They were mostly boys and men who only managed to finish high school and were good with their hands, some mechanically oriented and liked working near and around cars. They were often ex-jocks, firm-bodied with broad smiles that charmed the wives and ladies who came to get assistance with radiator water, air in their tires, gasoline, and cleaning their windows.
The jobs did not pay a great deal, but for boys who were just interested in keeping their cars in gas and to tinker with engines using the facilities of the station, it was enough. There was always a bit left over for beer, drive-in movies, and taking a girl out once or twice a month and hopefully getting some pussy for their efforts.
By 1963, the number of men working at gas stations were jacks-of-all-trades, often working as mechanics, but keeping their eyes open for customers seeking full-service rather than “self-service”. That where I found Donnie Hester.
The small North Texas town where he lived was still remote from the explosion of big cities that were emerging in America with their fast paced life-styles and sophisticated residents. Donnie, at 26 was just easy-going, a bit slow, and always ready to blow a load. From the time he learned to wank his dick in 7th grade, he had been squirting juice two sometimes three times a day. Like many boys out in the sticks, there were games in junior high, circle jerks, and all through high school, sneaking down to the rest stop at the edge of town to get a blow job through the glory hole in the last stall. Donnie was slowed by work, only getting his nut maybe once a day, and sometimes not even that when he came home exhausted from a long days work. He barely had the strength to shower and fall into bed before the day would seem to start all over again.
When he couldn’t get a date on a Friday or Saturday night, he would drive his ’55 Chevy down to the rest stop where truckers and travelling salesmen would occupy that last stall and suck the juices out of horny boys and men seeking some forbidden, but greedy relief for their thick boners. Donnie had a thick boner. Nature had given him 8 inches of shaft, slender at the base, but flaring out then tapering back to the oversized head with its deep piss-well, and wide coronal ridge. His dark brown hair was tufted under his arms, around his cock and balls, deep in his anal slot, and on his toes and fingers. But his tanned body was mostly hairless except for the treasure trail that wound from his navel to his pubes. Donnie’s body was still toned, the product of nature and his four years of football in high school, playing a back-up tight-end, and now long after graduation, softball with a bunch of buddies, two or three nights a week when he wasn’t working.
I was trained to troll this outposts of civilization, where there were meaty, straight treats to be plucked from the vine, and into our male slave business. I noticed Donnie when I stopped by the Flying A station in town to fill-up my van’s tank, and appreciated his graceful gait and long legs. He was just about 6 feet tall, but the way his slacks gripped his butt cheeks and how his legs filled out the pants caught my eye. When he bent over to wash and wipe my windows, I saw how his slacks clung to those firm ass cheeks, and decided I needed to see more.
Sometimes, it takes two or three weeks to scope out a potential captive. It was around the 4th of July weekend when I first saw him, and he had a couple of days off. I found out where he lived, and watched him pile into his car in swim trunks and flip-flops on his way to the local municipal pool with friends to soak up the sun, food and festivities. I got to see his muscular body, and athletic grace as he dived off the high board into the pool, showing off for the girls. He had size 11 feet, I surmised looking through my binoculars from the parking lot and behind some trees. Long toes, high arches, and wide balls with a narrow heel. I wondered if he was ticklish? Those big peds were snug in his work boots every day and in his thick work socks, so they were soft and well protected. I would have to get to know them at some point.
That night, after the 4th of July fireworks, Donnie meandered back home, drunk and horny and slept in until noon the next day. When he woke up, I was waiting in my van with my binocks. He stumbled to the bathroom, naked and stood with his hands on his hips as his big dick began to spew a thick, heavy stream of piss into the bowl that seemed to go on forever. Then he quickly climbed into the shower, and washed as much of the last night off his body as he could. Then he pulled on a pair of shorts, padded to the kitchen in his big bare feet, and made a huge baloney sandwich that he washed down with a beer. He yawned, stretched, and walked out to the back yard of his parents house where he still lived, and lay down under a huge Red Oak shaded from the hot sun and near the patio. As his parents’ house was situated on the large, odd shaped lot, the neighbors did not look into their back yard. His parents were gone according to the note he apparently found on the kitchen table, so he was alone at home. As Donnie lay on his back under the tree, taking an occasional swig from his beer that he brought with him, and he absently began to rub the crotch of his shorts. Eventually, he unbuttoned and unzipped them, and pushed them down to his ankles. Laying across his stomach was his long, thick shaft, hard and his fat head was leaking.
There is something so fucking hot about watching a straight guy pull his pud. They are so clueless about their bodies…all they want is to spunk. Donnie let his hand trail over his chest once or twice, grazing his nipples to make them stand up but abandoning them after that initial touch. His closed his eyes, and let his head loll back, and began to stroke his prick, sliding his rough fist up and over the head. Each time he did, his body would jerk, and it appeared he would leak more pre-fuck. He seemed to be smoothing the sticky pre-cum onto his knob and would grind his ass a bit from the sensation as his fist torqued over the bloated tip. For fifteen minutes he worked his fist up and down, sometimes planting his big feet and spreading his knees, then sprawling back out and pointing his toes.
By the end of the time, he began to lift his ass off the ground and to grind his cock head into his fist more violently, torquing it ruthlessly, and suddenly he opened his mouth, appearing to groan loudly, and squirted nine long streams of spunk over his head and onto his chest. His hand was covered with spooge, and he shook it off, jumped to his feet and pulled up his shorts, heading back into the house and going to his bedroom to take another quick shower. I used my telephoto lens to take as many photos of him while he masturbated, and then when he returned to the shower. I was convinced that Donnie would make a good acquisition for the right customer, looking for a blue-collar hunk.
I made sure to keep track of Donnie’s schedule, and wanted to catch him after several days without him jerking-off or getting some cunt. As it worked out, a week later, he had two late shifts on Friday and Saturday night, and prior to them he had played softball in two late games on the preceding Tuesday and Wednesday evenings. On Saturdy night, he got off at 10 p.m., went to a local bar that the softball team often used for post-game revels. He did not see anyone, he knew—guys must have been banging their chicks or their wives, and after three beers and no pussy prospects in sight, he ambled to his car a bit tipsy and drove home. I followed discreetly at a distance in my van.
Fortunately for me, his parents car was not in the driveway and the lights were out at the neighbors houses. In my business, you take your chances when they present themselves. I parked quickly in front of his house, put on my leather gloves and a ski mask, took a washcloth that I soaked it in cloroform and snuck up to Donnie after he parked in the garage and walked to the backdoor of the house. The element of surprise, and training on how to force a guy’s arm behind his back in one swift motion, enabled me to knock him out in seconds. Slapping the wash cloth is an art, because you have to cover both mouth and nose, making sure to stiffle any yelling and causing the victim to inhale deeply out of panic. It worked like a charm. The element of surprise couple with those beers had Donnie falling limply to the ground. I looked around and seeing that the street remained quiet, I lifted him up and threw him over my shoulder, moving quickly I dumped him into my van. I plopped Donnie onto the mattress in the back of the van, and after jumping in and closing the door, secured him with restraints that are anchored to the floor pan at the four corners and over the top of the mattress. I quickly put a ball gag around Donnie’s head and into his mouth, and then jumped into the driver’s seat and took off.
This job is only for high-end clients, and the funding they provide for a return on their investment is more than generous. I rented a house on the edge of town, nicely secluded from prying eyes of neighbors, and with a cellar that worked for a sound-proof space. Once I arrived at the house, I parked in the garage because it was connected to the kitchen and the stairwell down to the cellar. I checked on Donnie and he was still out like a lite. I untethered him, and took him through the garage door, into the kitchen, and then down the stairs to the cellar where I had it set up for prepping my captive.
I placed Donnie on a folding exam table, and tethered his arms over his head, leaving the ball gag in place and adding a leather blindfold. Then I quickly removed his boots and socks, unzipped his jeans and yanked them down and off. Fuck he looked so damn sexy in his traditional Hanes white briefs. I unbuttoned his shirt, and pulled his wife-beater up over his firm pecs. I used a cinch to bind him firmly across his stomach to the table. Then I bound his ankles to stirrups attached to the exam table, and lifted them up and out. His muscled feet were pale and surprisingly soft for a guy who was on them all day long in work boots, and then played softball at night. There were one or two tiny callouses on the balls of his feet, but otherwise they were smooth and soft. I drew my index fingernail down one of them, and reflexively, even as he was unconscious, his foot jerked. This was going to be fun.
I moved up to his pecs, and let my fingers glide over the smooth, firm mounds. I let my thumbs graze across both of his tit nubs, the rubbery buttons firming immediately. I knelt over his stomach, and sniffed into his belly-button, where a faint scent of musk hit my nostrils. Then I grasped his crotch through the briefs and found his long, thick serpent flaccid. I rubbed a thumb over his fat knob, and his prick responded ever so slightly, suggesting that his cock had a mind of its own. Soon enough, I would test just how firm that cock could get.
I left Donnie for 30 minutes, taking care of some paperwork upstairs on the kitchen table in preparation for his shipment. But soon I heard some muffled grunts and an apparent attempt to free himself from his bonds on the exam table. It was time to explain to Donnie, the new facts of his life.
I clomped down the stairs so Donnie could hear me approaching, and then across the floor to where he was located. Then leaning over his head, I used my thumbs to flick his nips and spoke to him:
“Hey big boy, how’s it going? I want to welcome you to my place. We’re gonna spend some time together, at least for a while.” He gasped from the sensation on his nipples, and then grunted and tussled with his bonds, trying to confront his captivity.
“Now, enough of that Donnie. Oh yeah, I know who the fuck you are…and we’re gonna get acquainted.” I gently pinched his nips and then scraped my thumbnails against the firm rubbery tips, making him strain from the sensitive sensation. “Yeah, we’re gonna get real friendly, at least I am. And after I do a thorough investigation of you, then I’m gonna package you real comfortably and send you on a long vacation.” Once again his grunted and pulled at his bonds, giving as much effort as he could muster.
“I’ll tell you more about that vacation, but first I need to check you out, so I want you to be a good boy, and cooperate—othewise it could be very uncomfortable for you. You get what I mean? I leaned down to whisper those last words next to his ear, and pinch his right nipple hard so he could get my drift. Then I licked my thumb and smoothed it over the nip so he knew that I could be gently if I chose to.
I moved around the table and while I used a wet thumb to continue worrying his right nipple, I used my free hand to tickle inside his inny navel. He wriggled from the sensation, and made muffled gasps. “Mmmmmmppphhhhh……mmmmmppphhhhh…mmmmmppphhh!”
Then I leaned over and sucked on his right nipple, then ran my fingers down to the elastic band of his briefs, scratching and sliding them under the waistband to let him know where I was headed. He lifted his ass as much as he could, in a vain attempt to buck my hand from his privates, but it was hopeless. Then, leaning down, I licked inside his navel, and gripped his package, squeezing his cock through the soft cotton material. Like the slut he was, his cock immediately began to respond. In spite of any fear he was feeling, his dick craved the attention, and soon he was rock hard under the material. I moved my fingers to the piss flap of the briefs, and pried his plump, fat cock head just outside and it was already slick with clear fuck juice. I rubbed the pre-fuck over his knob, and used my fingernail to gently scratch under his coronal ridge, making him buck again, but this time, more from the sweet and horribly ticklish sensation on his bulging dick head. And as I scratched my nail against the ridge, it involuntarily forced Donnie’s cock to flex and burp more clear juice I could use to lubricate him. I then moved my fingernail to his circumcision scar and piss lips making him squeal into his gag.
I took a scissors from my nearby toolkit and cut from the near legband of his briefs up to his waistband, and pushed it aside, exposing his long, thick shaft, and bulging cock tip, allowing it to snap up to his stomach and splatter his pre-fuck into his navel and on his abs. I drew my index fingernail from his two fat duck egg balls, roiling in their sack, up the thick cord of his cock and against his circumsion scar, making him wriggle his hips and buck again, continuing his gasping, squealing grunts.
Reaching into my bag of tricks, I slipped on three finger vibrators on my right hand, from index finger to ring finger. Then gripping his cock in my fist, with the vibrators buzzing, I used them just on the fat knob of his rigid cock. My left hand returned to his nipples, gently scratching, pinching, and flicking them, while I edged his helpless cock head. God I love to hear them grunting and squealing behind their gags.
I watched his long, thick toes strain and curl, scrunching his feet to desperately avoid the sensations on his sensitive cock head. He continued to grind, buck, and wriggle as much as his restraints would allow, but I had him completely helpless for my pleasure. This is what I call doing my due diligence regarding a potential product placement. Then I used my left hand to thumb his cock head, and left my fingers with the vibrators slide down to his balls, and under them. My fuck finger, slide lower, and searched just under his balls for his ass crack. The striupps had lifted his legs enough so that his ass crack was exposed, and by spreading his legs, it exposed his hair fringed anus. His pink crack and pale ass lips were too sweet an invitation for me to avoid, so my fuck finger began to vibrate right across the tight rosette, and I could see Donnie squeezing his ass muscles as best he could to prevent my attentions.
I picked up a bottle of lube, and squirted it on his clenching anus, and then used my fuck finger to pry the lips gently apart and slide it up to the first knuckle inside him allowing the vibrations on the tip of my finger to drive him wild. From behind his gag, he protested, but his cock remained rigid and leaking as my thumb grazed back and forth against his piss lips, scar, and glans. “NNNNNNNNgggggggggg….NNNNNNNNgggggggggg…..UUUUUUUmmmmmmm!”
Perspiration was beginning to drip from his forehead, and his pits. His constant bucking and wriggling, flexing and tugging at the bonds were wearing him out. I teased his cock head and his tickled just inside his anus for about fifteen minutes, then slipped my finger our of his ass and took of the finger vibrators. Then I rolled up a small cart I had on the side of the cellar, and wheeled it between his legs. It was one of our best devices that we utilize to test our captives. On the cart’s small platform was a metal framework with a simple rotating sleeve into which you could insert different anal prods. The rotation allowed you to angle the prods at the height you need to slip the prod into an unwilling ass. You could raise and lower the platfrom as well, and the prods were equipped to vibrate. I selected a long, slender prod and lubed it up. Then I drizzled more lube on Donnie anus, and used my finger to gently push some it into his ass. Then I fixed the legs of the cart so it wouldn’t move, and gently inserted the prod just beyond Donnie’s anus and slowly twisted the sheath and the prod into the resisting hole.
Donnie howled behind his gag, his toes flexing wildly and his hands over his head scrabbling madly. But there was nothing he could do. When I was able to get 5 inches into him, and feel his sphincter snap around the prod, I stopped twisting it in, and switched on the vibrator low. His cock flexed automatically, burping a drool of pre-fuck, and he groaned deeply and loudly into his gag. “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH…..UUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH….AAAAHHHHH!”
Then I picked up a simple electric tooth brush from my tool kit, lifted his cock shaft up and applied the whirring bristles to the bottom of his thick stalk on the cord that ran from his balls up to his circumcision scar. The rock hard cock made the work of the spinning bristles all the more intense, and I worked the tooth brush up slowly till I finally arrived at his glans. I avoided his circumcision scar and piss lips for the moment and instead used the wicked whirling bristles on his coronal ridge, and then up and over his sticky, wet glans. He buck and squealed from the intense tickling on his knob, but then I focused on his scar and piss lips and used my free hand to reach up and gently pinch and twist his right nipple. Jesus Christ it was so fucking horny to watch his writhe, squeal and buck as his cock was bristled relentlessly and his virgin ass was vibrated by the merciless buzzing of the slender prod against his prostate. All of this was completely knew to him, but he could not resist the sensations, and after ten minutes, he was desperately on the edge, howling behind his gag. “AAAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Then, with one final gasp and buck, he raised his hips, his cock head expanded obscenely, and his shaft thickened as wad after wad of thick, white spunk spurted from his piss lips up to his chin and chest, in nine long squirts. As he finally began to drool cum, I used the bristles on his knob glans ruthlessly, making sure to scrub the entire fat head as he twisted and screeched in an attempt to avoid the sensation on his cock head as I polished it, and to free himself from his hopeless situation.
Finally, I relented after five minutes of delicious torture of his bulging knob, and let him plop back onto the table, exhausted and glistening with sweat, panting hard. Shit, what a load of spunk he had squirted. I decided that the next time I drained him I would have a funnel gag in his mouth, and would scoop up his cum and feed it to him, watching his adam’s apple bob as his own tasty, viscous fluid slid down his throat.
I gave Donnie a dose of Rohypnol in a glass of water after he calmed down, and he eagerly gulped the water down after his exhausting milking. After a 30 minute hiatus, I unstrapped him, and took the groggy, dizzy man to the shower I had installed in the basement with his blindfold in place. It was just a bearing wooden pole with a hose and nozzle I attached at the top. I sat him in a platic chair, and tied his arms behind the pole and chair. Then I thoroughly washed him from head to toe, including sliding a slender nozzle into his ass and flushing his bowels. There was a concave floor in this basement with a drain that lead to the sewer line, so fortunately, I did not have a lot of clean-up. I just had to get through the stink. But once he was washed, I took him back to the table, dried him, and then hog-tied him, including a ball gag. Soon, this big boy would be on a plane, in a padded and comfortable coffin-sized box with low level light, oxegyn and temperature controlled air pumped in for the journey to his new home.
As I packed him, Donnie regained consciousness, but I had untethered him from his hog-tie and bound him spread in the box with restraints that are built in. I spoke to him, as he weakly struggled against my efforts and his head twisted back and forth as I spoke. “Donnie, life is about to change for you forever. I’m shipping you to someone who contracted to purchase a male specimen like you, for their personal sexual pleasure. You are going to be owned and managed for the next five years. During that time, you will not have control over your bodily functions for most of the time, and especially your sexual release. It’ll be tough initially, buddy. But eventually, you will learn what it means to helplessly surrender, and become a virtual slave. Your owner is another man, so that is going to be a huge change. But he will train you to appreciate the ways he stimulates and uses your body. After all, your dick performed beautifully for me tonight, and I know that your dick has a brain of its own, and wants relief no matter how it get it.” I laughed as I said these words, but all his could do was gurgle through his gag and twist his head as if to say “NO” emphatically. But there was no option. He was naked for his trip in the box, so I massed his limp cock one more time before I closed him in for his journey. Slowly, his cock responded, that big prick lenghtening and his cock head bloating until he was fully hard and leaking. I smoothed the clear juice over his fat knob, and watched as he ground his ass into the padded linter of the box from the ticklish sensations. Then I lifted the lid and closed him into the dim box. My last words to him, was “safe travels Donnie.” His gurgled protests against his gag was the last I heard from him.
Donnie’s new owner has spared no expense in preparing for him. He has a secluded bedroom in which he will be strapped down at night so that he cannot masturbate or frote his bed, but with enough movement to allow him comfort to sleep. His owner has several custom made benches in his sound-proofed playroom that will allow Donnie to be tied down and subject to a variety of inventive toys, investigating his body from his anus to his cock, from his mouth to his feet, and of course his sensitive nips. I love the bench with a vibrating prod for his mouth and a slender vibrating prod for has ass that are fixed. Once he is strapped onto the bench, each vibrator is gently but firmly inserted in the appropriate orifice. The design allows his body to be stretched in a slight inverted bow so that his abs and his chest are taut, and his cock and balls are fully exposed. Then you add a glans vibrator, and two electric pads for his tits, and put all on low, and you can keep Donnie dripping pre-cum for hours. Then either a Venus 2000 or a twirling knob brush, that looks like a mini rotating vacuum attachment, can make Donnie spit cum and work his sensitive knob till he howls. He will also be on a physical exercise routine, and a strict diet to keep him primed for sex and fit for the many sessions he will endure. I understand that the playroom has a platform with a giant rotating lazy-susan designed to strap an unwilling man onto. Trussed like a roasted pig, with a ball gag and blindfold, a small anal prod sending electric shocks up his anus, he is spun in a slow rotation. That way, guests invited to the session may fondle and tease him, tickling, pinching, probing, and playing with his body until he squirts his first load in a long afternoon of milking. I like this owner. Donnie will learn just how responsive his body can be.
When he is returned to his home in five years, he will be a buff boy, but the looks will be deceiving. He will also be ready to submit to anyone who can satisfy his greedy prick, and his need to be dominated. He may not be as brash as he once was, but his sullen eyes will give him a tantilizing look of a smouldering blud collar stud. But once in private, he will be a good dog, ready to obey his master, with a rampant penis that yearns for relief that is not satisfying unless provided at the hands of others.Next page