The Telemachus Story Archive

The Bus Boy
By Jotto
Email: Jotto

“Confessions of a Slaver: The Busboy”

By Jotto

The following is a transcription of a confession taken at the Federal Bureau of Investigations, Atlanta Office on the date of May 19, 2015 and was released under order of the Freedom of Information Act. The information contained within this document concerns the actions of a known slaver for the sex market by the name of, Vasnev Medved Nikitovich, a.k.a. The Bear (hereafter referred to as, V.M.N.), and concerns specifically the abduction, rape and subsequent disappearance of Dylan Omar Green on or about the evening of June 30, 2014. The interview was conducted by, Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Agent Theodore Winsted, (hereafter referred to as, F.B.I.)

F.B.I.- “Do you swear that the statements you are about to make are accurate and made freely and without coercion?”

V.M.N.- “Yes, and with diplomatic immunity, so whatever I say will be of little consequence to me and of no use to you.

F.B.I.- “State your name.”

V.M.N.- “I am Vasnev Medved Nikitovich from Russia.”

F.B.I- “State your occupation.”

V.M.N.- “I am chief attaché for the Russian ambassador in Washington D.C.”

F.B.I.- “And your unofficial occupation.”

V.M.N.- I am, how you say, a talent scout of sorts.”

F.B.I.- “And what sort of talent would that be?”

V.M.N.- “It would be of a mature nature.”

F.B.I.- “What exactly does that mean?”

V.M.N.- “I…recruit people of a pleasant looking nature to become a part of an exciting career in the field of…hospitality.”

F.B.I.- “And would this hospitality be of a sexual nature?”

V.M.N.- “That would depend on the desires of the individual customer, but usually, yes.”

F.B.I.- “So these people you recruited were turned into sex slaves.”

V.M.N.- “I would say that is an oversimplification of their duties.”

F.B.I.- “Duties? They were required to do other things?”

V.M.N.- “Oh yes. Some of the more docile ones were desired just for their companionship and were treated very well, or put to work in factories. But I admit, that wasn’t usually the case.”

F.B.I.- “What was usually the case?”

V.M.N.- “Well, you see, I specialize in finding young men, or boys who are mature beyond their years, that have a fighting spirit in them and that don’t go down easily. You see, the typical Russian man likes to fight for his victories. He does not like or respect a prey who is too easily bested. As your cowboys know, there is nothing like breaking a wild stallion. I deal mostly in young men who are like these wild stallions.”

F.B.I.- “And how are these men you abduct broken by your clients?”

V.M.N.- “Oh, through various forms of torture, rape, humiliation or all of these methods combined. And the ones who are broken too easily get turned into plow horses.”

F.B.I.- “By that, do you mean some kind of laborer?”

V.M.N.- “No, I mean an actual plow horse. They would be sent to a remote farm in the middle of nowhere, stripped naked if they weren’t already and then hooked up to a plow to till the soil for farmers that couldn’t afford to own or maintain a tractor. And those that could survive such labor would become big and strong, almost like actual horse, at which point they might be reintegrated into the sex market. But not to worry, I’m sure this, Dylan, you are looking for did not end up on a farm; he had an exceptional amount of spirit in him. He is, I’m sure, still under the scrutiny of a wealthy man with unusually harsh and sexually bizarre demands.”

F.B.I.- “And just how did you discover and then abduct, Dylan Green?”

V.M.N.- “Well, as any sort of talent scout would tell you, I just always keep my eyes open for new talent. I’m always looking straight ahead, never looking at the ground or the sky, but always looking at people and looking them in the eye. The eyes are truly the window to the soul, and any spark of a spirited essence is as clear to see as a lit fireplace can be seen through the window of a house.”

F.B.I.- “And you saw such a spark in, Dylan?”

V.M.N.- “Oh, yes. I went to a cafe that was recommended to me by a client that wanted me to evaluate a young busboy for possible recruitment. He had seen him there many times. As I took my seat, I quickly evaluated the staff the people around me. Not just the employees, but the customers as well. Well... there he was, the busboy. There was swiftness and efficiency to his manner of movement that immediately earned my attention. And he was so attractive, the cutest yet also the hottest half black and half something else you’ve ever seen.”

F.B.I.- “White.”

V.M.N.- “Excuse me?”

F.B.I.- “I said white. His mother is white and his father is black. And they are both very worried about him.”

V.M.N.- “Hmm, that explains his wonderful skin color and unruly hair. His skin was the color of a mocha latte and just as sweet to the taste as I would later find out. Wavy black hair that was just long enough to dance across the top of his eyes. And his eyes were two deep pools of black that seemed to shimmer with the distant glow of candlelights. For a moment, he was one I considered keeping in my harem. But there was too much money to be made from selling him. And then when he looked at me with his smoldering glaze, it was with the knowledge that he knew I was looking at him. And his look also conveyed that he was use to having men undress him with their eyes and wonder about his sexual persuasion. It must have happened so many times to him by now that not only was he cool with it, but he also invited lingering eyes to trace the contours of his young face and slender body as he struck one pose after another while clearing tables. Turning his back to me to show off his cute ass while he looked over his shoulder at me through a drapery of loosely styled wavy black hair. As best as I could, I tried to see through his baggy clothing. Over the years, I have developed an almost x-ray type of vision that can allow me to see through such obstacles as loose-fitting pants and down-filled jackets. And his low hanging black jeans and loose-fitting black t-shirt could not prevent me from admiring the perfect symmetry of his face and the form of his body. A small but bulbous ass pushed through the fabric of his pants as he walked away from me to fetch a pitcher of water. As he turned back to me, our eyes locked into each other’s gaze. He slowed down his pace as he sauntered over to my table. His eyes challenged me to a game of chicken as his eyes looked into mine. Now comes the first test of a man’s spirit.”

F.B.I.- “What’s that?”

V.M.N.- “If I maintain my gaze, if I don’t look away, does he look away, or does he have the confidence to keep looking back at me. And when he did not blink, I knew he was a plucky one. And just as I was starting to plan how exactly to snatch him up, he did something unexpected. My hand was draped over the edge of my table and he leaned against my fingers with his thigh. My hand was trapped, not that I was trying to fight it any way. He knew I was interested in him and he was flirting with me. He didn’t say a thing as he filled my glass with water while looking me in the eye. He shifted his weight causing is pants to tighten about this crotch making his sizable penis noticeable through the black denim of his jeans. And then he asked me, “Can I get you anything else?””

F.B.I.- “Really?”

V.M.N.- “Yes, and then like a moment from a cheap adult film, my pinky finger breaks loose and caresses the inside of his thigh while I say, “I think I may start with dessert tonight.” Then just as my finger makes contact with the tip of his engorging cock, the stupid waitress interrupted our interlude to present me with a menu causing the busboy wonder off.”

F.B.I.- “But that wasn’t the last you saw of him, was it?”

V.M.N.- “Of course not. We play a game of I can see you through my whole dinner. Latter, as he came to clear away my dishes, I once again place my fingers over the edge of the table and he once again pressed against them with his thigh, but this time his cock was fully engorged and strummed across my knuckles. My thumb and forefinger with autonomic-like reflex sandwiched the apple-like end of his cock and tested the plumpness of his manhood like you might test the freshness of a ripened fruit. He was ready for the picking.”

F.B.I.- “You can spare me the colorful metaphor and just please stick to the facts, Mr. Nit…Nika…”

V.M.N.- “Nikitovich, and I will tell the story the way I like. I want to boast that an older big bear of a man like me could still attract a nimble young tomcat like him. Okay?”

F.B.I.- “Fine.”

V.M.N.- “Good, now where was I? Yes, so as I was playing with the head of his cock through the denim and within view of anyone in that restaurant who was paying attention, I looked up at him and asked him, “What time does the restaurant close?” He told me, “Eleven.” I asked him, “Is that the time you take the trash out to the alley behind the restaurant?” And he said, “It could be.”

F.B.I.- “So is that what happened? You met him behind the café at eleven o’clock?”

V.M.N.- “Precisely. I did not have to wait at all. The backdoor opened and out he came with a bag of garbage. I could not believe it; usually I have to conceive of some sort of ambush to acquire such a prize. But here he was walking up to me, like a salmon practically throwing itself into the jaws of a bear. As he tossed the trash aside, he asked me if I would like to come into the kitchen cause he was the only one left in the place, but fearing that there might be surveillance cameras inside, I just pushed him up against the weathered brick wall and went right for the prize, his sizable manhood. As my powerful hands slid into his pants and started groping him, he tried to take my hands out of his pants, but I was much to strong for him. He said, “Hey, take it easy dude, we even haven’t talked about a price yet.”

F.B.I.- “You mean he wanted to get paid for this…rendezvous?”

V.M.N.- “Yes, can you believe it? He had a late night job as a whore. He probably has been turning tricks with the customers ever since he had been working there, the little slut. He knew that his good looks could make him a lot of money, and there I was, also hoping to make a lot of money off his good looks. So I placed a wad of twenties on top of the dumpster and he dropped his defenses. I slid his shirt up his body and pulled it off his arms to inspect his body. He had slightly above muscle mass but exceptional definition, the telltale sign of a boxer. His pectorals clung tight to his ribcage and rippled with every twist of his strong looking arms. He had the most defined abdominals I had ever seen. As a matter of fact, he had a bona fide eight-pack set of abs. I asked him if he was a boxer and he told me, “Only a few amateur bouts that didn’t amount to much.” And that he mostly did it for the exercise and that he liked how it made his body looked. I complimented him on a job well done and then told him to let me see the rest of his body. And he did, he pushed his pants and boxers down to his ankles with such ease like he had probably done for other men before me.

F.B.I.- “Right there in the open alley way? Where anyone could see?”

V.M.N.- “Yes, but all the businesses that shared the alley were closed and there were only a couple of drunken bums passed out in the gutter. By the way, was it one of those bums that identified me?”

F.B.I.- “Yes, it was.”

V.M.N.- “Hmm, I was careless. See how beauty makes men go stupid?”

F.B.I.- “No argument from me.”

V.M.N.- “And he…you said his name was Dylan?”

F.B.I.- “Yes. Don’t you know the name of your victims?”

V.M.N.- “Not usually. Anyway, Dylan was beautiful. I hope he still is, where ever he is. His hands waved across his body like a auto show model waving her hands over a brand new car, daring the viewer to find a single flaw in the smooth hard finish of the merchandise. Sure enough, as his hands came to rest confidently on his hips, there he was not a single imperfection to be seen on the smooth hard finish of his body, a naked sculpture of male perfection, as if he sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Except, I don’t think the master ever sculpted statues with a massive erection like Dylan’s. His cock was easily twelve inches long and I would say almost as thick as a can of beer. I assume he got that from his father’s side of the family. Funny, it’s always seems to be the skinny ones. Maybe because they are less massive their cocks just look more massive. Don’t you think?”

F.B.I.- “I never gave it that much thought.”

V.M.N.- “I guess you haven’t. Either way that tube of meat projecting off his groin was most impressive, so much so that I found myself not in control of my hand as it reached out and held on to his cock in disbelief. And as I started to stroke his cock, his hands slid across his body in many directions before he started playing with his nipples. I turned him around and like the police do; I forced him to take the position. His hands went high above his head and spread wide against the brick wall while I kicked his legs as far apart as his pants would permit. He told me, “No fucking.” And I told him that I was just inspecting the merchandise, which I was. And there it was, his gorgeous ass. Even though his buttocks was not as big as some of my clients would like, his butt cheeks were very bulbous and very firm. And as my hands slid across those two beautifully formed mounds of flesh, I could see the individual strands of muscles that made up his gluteus rippling at the sensation of my touch. This kid had absolutely no body fat on him. He looked like could have been lifted out of an anatomy textbook. Don’t you envy people like that?”

F.B.I.- “Well, not so much envy as admire.”

V.M.N.- “Yes, that too. Well, my fingers admired his ass as they slid deep into the valley that separated those two hills. He reminded me about the no fucking thing and I assured him that it was just my fingers teasing him. And as my middle finger circled around his hole, well, he must have liked the sensation of having his man-pussy played with because he then presented his ass to me and pressed it up against my leg as he started to moan. Then as my finger started to press in to his tight little shitter, his hand came down and gently pushed my hand away. He said, “No.” I licked my finger and said, “Yes.” My slick finger quickly found its way back to his hole and inserted in up to its first joint. He tried to pull away and turn around, but I quickly placed my other arm around his neck and got him into a chokehold that he couldn’t get out of. He may have been built like a nimble and fast little sports car, like Ferrari, but I am built like bulldozer, much too strong for little vroom, vroom boy. But I will say this for him, he was stronger than he looked, he put up quite a fight as I stuck two fingers up inside of him. He gave me a few bruise before the night was up. He truly had that fighting spirit I was looking for. He kicked and punched away as best he could even as I was massaging his prostate. He tried to scream, but my chokehold prevented him from even making a peep. I thought about slamming him into the wall but it’s hard to sell damaged merchandise.”

F.B.I.- “What does it matter if he had a few scratches since you were going to send him to tyrants who were just going to rape and torture him anyway?”

V.M.N.- “Well, any artist would tell you that they like to start with a clean canvas.”

F.B.I.- “So your clients think of themselves as artist?”

V.M.N.- “Some do. And that their medium is pain. And Dylan was responding to the pain as I had hoped. After about ten minutes or so of my fingers prying his ass open and exploring his sacred chamber, he still persisted in putting up a fight, so I had to choke him to consciousness in order to get to the next phase of my evaluation.”

F.B.I.- “And that was?”

V.M.N.- “I had to fuck him.”

F.B.I.- “So you were attracted to him?”

V.M.N.- “Yes, to some extent, but it was more important to see how he would react to another man’s cock up his ass. And also, it’s part of an extensive report to my clients that I give a detailed analysis of his man-pussy. But it was hard to do that with him putting up such a fuss, so I choked him until he went limp in my arms and placed him face down over some empty crates next to the dumpster. And then I fucked him. I’ll spare you the all the blow-by-blow, but suffice to say he had the sweetest pussy I ever had my cock in, tight around the rim but soft and yielding on the inside. Just a shame though he wasn’t awake for that part of it, I would have loved to seen his reaction to me pumping his ass. Well, after I creamed filled his doughnut, I carried him over to my box truck that I had parked nearby. It’s a combination pleasure room and dungeon on wheels. Inside are all sorts of apparatus that I use for testing the stamina and will of young men.”

F.B.I.- “Yes, we know. It was one of your properties we seized. In addition to wooden racks and crosses, there were all sorts of clamps, whips, dildos, butt plugs and wide assortment of electrical devices.”

V.M.N.- “Well, when you have been doing this as long as I have, you tend to acquire a lot of things along the way. And some of those things came in handy for evaluating, Dylan. Once I had him inside the back of the truck, I remove the rest of his clothing and shackled him from the ceiling and splayed his legs with a spreader attached to his ankles. And there he hung like a piece of meat, no, excuse me… rather more like a work of art. Like one of those mobiles you see swinging in the breeze at art galleries. And even flaccid, his cock was still impressive. I just sat down and admired the sight of that living sculpture as his breathing caused his body to gently sway to and froe just the slightest. As I lit a cigar, it was then that I noticed how beautiful his legs were, even a little on the voluminous side considering how tight is upper body was, but that is okay, a lot of my clients are leg-men. So it was at that moment I decided he was a keeper. That no matter what, whether I sold him or not, he was coming home with me. Then it hit me, I should take advantage of this downtime to shave him clean of all his body hair. I grabbed the grooming clippers and quickly reduced his body hair to stubble. I then lathered up the crucial areas like his groin, scrotum and asshole with shaving cream, and just as my straight razor made its first swipe at his pubes, leaving behind a swath of skin as smooth as silk, he woke up. Oh, he was as mad as a Tasmanian Devil.”

F.B.I.- “You mean like the cartoon character?”

V.M.N.- “Um, no. Those creatures really do exist on the island of Tasmania. Look it up, they are nasty little creatures, and so was, Dylan. He screamed and cussed at me as if he were hoping someone would hear him. But fortunately, I had the truck completely insolated for sound. He tried to tear away from his shackles and thrashed about wildly. And while it was that fighting spirit that I wanted out of him, I pointed out that he shouldn’t move around like that while I had a razor sliding across his balls. That kept him still, but not quiet as he continued to scream for help and ordered me to stop shaving him. Again, it’s all about that spirit, he was belligerent to the end. But with his limbs secured to the top and bottom of the truck, there was nothing he could do except be belligerent. However, an interesting thing happened, as I started shave the hairs away from around his asshole, he calmed down a bit. He seemed to be responding to the smooth sensation of shaving cream being smeared about his hole and the tingle of a sharp metal object gliding around the puckering opening to his inner glory. Later, as I washed away the last traces of shaving cream from his boy-cunt, even from behind I could see the result of these sensations that quieted him, his cock had become engorged again and mightier than ever.”

F.B.I.- “You’re telling me he was enjoying it?”

V.M.N.- “No, one thing you learn in the sex slave trade is that sometimes such reactions are purely physical and have no emotional content, much like rubbing a baby’s palm will cause them to open their mouth. He was probably embarrassed and mystified by his own erection and worried that I would get the wrong idea. So I grabbed a beaker and started going about gathering a sample of his sperm to present to potential buyers. My clients like to test the sperm of prospective slaves for its potency, disease, color, consistency, viscosity, and taste.”

F.B.I.- “So how did you gather his sample?”

V.M.N.- “I masturbated him, jacked him off as it were. You know, I gave him a hand job, a French handshake, the tug-of-love, disciplining the octopus, the naughtiest squeeze, fist pump, the five fingers of fury, making toothpaste, the knuckle shuffle, Amish birth control, zipper spelunking, scratching Yoda behind the ears, churning man butter, whipping up baby batter…”

F.B.I.- “Okay, okay. I get it. Move on, please.”

V.M.N.- “Well, I was a little intimidated at first to take hold of such a majestic cock as his, but I had a job to do and money to earn. As soon as I took a hold of his swaggering manhood, the young man fiercely objected and demanded that I unhand him at once. I just ignored him as he cursed and spat at me while I stroked his cock. I have come to believe that his protest were merely for show because not at any moment did his cock show any sign of weakness. He tried in vain to break away from my grip as I vigorously worked his cock for over fifteen minutes or so. His cock was most adept at self-lubricating itself as substantial streams of dongwater surged from its fat head. And just as my arm was starting to cramp-up, he screamed in…agony. It seemed as if his orgasms were painful to him. And you would wonder not if you saw what I saw, a solid powerful stream of cum gushed out of him, a flow that lasted fifteen or twenty seconds without pause. He stopped breathing and his face turned red as his body produced a second deluge of sperm that was more powerful and longer lasting than the first. I actually was concerned that something within him had broken, that there might not be an off switch to this orgasm. And then I was completely shock and awed as a third torrent of his seed was purged from his loins, but thankfully, it quickly died down, not lasting as long. And then a forth stream spurted out, but it was more like the type of orgasm you’d expect from a young man like him. I tell you, I have never seen anything like that before or since. And if you include the trickle-down time, his ejaculating lasted well over three minutes. And get this, the average amount of ejaculate for a healthy man is three to four milliliters, about a teaspoon. Dylan’s effluence measured at almost one hundred and twenty milliliters, that’s about twenty-four teaspoons or one half of a cup. I promise you, that is some super-human shit, my friend.”

F.B.I.- “I find that hard to believe.”

V.M.N.- “So do I, and I was there. Well, I had to sit down and gaze with disbelief at the small breaker that brimmed with his seed. When I heard him start to breath again, I stood up to look him in the eye and expressed my admiration of his virility. I kissed him on both cheeks, as is the custom in my country when addressing a hero, and for that moment, he was my hero. And his sweaty skin was sweet on my lips.”

F.B.I- “Just because cums like a rhino you consider him a hero?”

V.M.N.- “No. You see. I have video cameras running all the time in that truck, and I knew when I started to market him with those videos, that there would be bidding wars for him like never before. And I would eventually be proven correct. I asked him if he dumped a load like that every time, but he just looked away and told me to fuck off. I so respected him that I almost regretted what I had to do next. I had to see how he would respond to more aggressive stimulation.”

F.B.I.- “Do you mean torture?”

V.M.N.- “Well…yes. But it’s not torture for my sadistic pleasure, it’s to test the strength of his will.”

F.B.I.- “You expect me to believe you get no pleasure out of torturing these men you abduct?”

V.M.N.- “No, I do get some pleasure out of it, but that’s not why I do it. But it is important to remember to enjoy your work. Right?”

F.B.I- “So what did you do to, Dylan?”

V.M.N.- “Well, I started with a thirty minute session of whipping and flogging. Now the important thing to remember is to inflict pain without doing any real damage, I can’t sell damaged goods. You have to aim for the areas where the skin is the most sensitive like armpits, side of the torso, inside of the thighs or the bottom of the feet. Oh, and the tant, can’t forget the tant, that small area right between the back of the scrotum and the anus. And no matter how hard I concentrated the tip of my whip on those key points, he was as belligerent and foul-mouthed as ever. Every lash of my whip earned me a barrage of profanity from his foul mouth. Then I upped the ante by spending a good amount of time watering him.”

F.B.I.- “What’s that?”

V.M.N.- “It’s where I take a fire hose and blasted it full force up his ass. It causes forced ingestion of water up his shitter resulting in gastric distension and water intoxication. If I wasn’t careful, I could have killed him. But the interesting part came when his innards were filled to maximum capacity, it would reverse the flow of his digestive system and the water would flow up through his mouth. It’s an odd sight to see someone shitting out of his mouth. Well, when he would pass out from that, I would turn off the water and let his body drain out during an extended evacuation session. That Dylan could hold a lot of water, it was almost like some sort of garden water feature watching the water drain from his ass. And knowing that all his innards were now blasted clean made it sort of poetic. And through it all survived his belligerence and his anger. Never begging for mercy, but always demanding his release and swearing my damnation. Then came the interesting part of the night.”

F.B.I.- “You finally broke him?”

V.M.N.- “No, like I said, I never did break him, that wasn’t the point, the point was to test his resolve to know how much he was worth. The interesting part of the night was when he started to enjoy it. At one point, I started to use my high frequency electrodes. Normally, the electrodes are used for treating acne by creating a tingling sensation as they are slid across flesh. But remove the safety features and attach then to a stronger power supply and the results are absolutely electrifying. Now, most people start to beg as soon as I turn it on and walk towards them with a glass wand that is alive violet colored lightning and buzzing with static discharge. But not Dylan, he just glared at me through his wavy black hair as I approached him with the rake-shaped attachment. I first zapped him on his tight stomach. He screamed as his muscles constricted. If he hadn’t been restrained, I’m sure he would have folded up in half. I traced every contour of his body, followed every crease of his muscles and lingered on every dimple. And of course, extensively zapped him all over his dick and balls. And with every passing minute, not only did he remain resolute; he started to enjoy it, even daring me to turn up the power. Each shriek would turn into a moan and each insult was finished by calling me, daddy. I would have suspected him of faking it just to piss me off which would still impressed me, but he actually became erect. And with each zap to his nuts, his cock grew harder and harder.”

F.B.I.- “Dylan was besting you. Trying to take control of the situation by embracing the pain.”

V.M.N.- “Yeah, I let that little shit get under my skin. So I became even more determined to break him. I switched the wand attachment on my high frequency electrode from an epidermal rake to an angled anal probe. That glass probe glowed brilliantly with a blinding ultraviolet lightning as it hissed and hummed when I turned up to full power, actual lightning in a bottle. I saw real fear in his eyes for a moment, but he quickly suppressed it. As a preview, I touched it to his lips. His head snapped away as he let out a gasp. I placed the probe on his hip and his body recoiled. He tried to back away as I hovered the probe over the plump head of his throbbing cock. I thought I heard a whimper as I grabbed onto his cock with my free hand and moved the probe even closer. Then I took aim at the opening to his urethra, you know, his piss hole and gave it a quick touch. Well, he screamed so loudly that I considered putting on earplugs. That was followed by a second quick touch to the exact same spot and again he screamed. But then, for the third time, I held the probe right on his pisser for a full minute. I swear it looked like he was trying to jump out of his skin, as his body flapped around like a flag in a hurricane. And through the screams, he still managed to hurl obscenities at me.

F.B.I.- “God, you are a monster.”

V.M.N.- “I was just being thorough. That is what I’m paid for. So, anyway, back to, Dylan. I gave him a moment to catch his breath. I held the wand up high enough for him to see it as I walked around behind him, his defiant glare oscillated between the wand and me, his head turning back as far as it could. We stared at each other as I lowered the electrified wand down to his ass. And when he couldn’t see it any more, he braced himself. And then I delivered what I hoped would be the straw that broke that camel’s back. I pressed the high frequency electrode firmly into the crack of his ass and held it there as he screamed his heart out, barely able to shout the expletives he was trying to hurl at me. And as I slid the probe down and then onto his anus, he became absolutely incoherent.”


V.M.N.- “His body shook violently as it arched forward. His butt cheeks were clinched so tight that it was difficult for me to keep the probe in place. But again, that little sports car was no match for this bulldozer. I grabbed him by the waist and shoved the probe up into his ass as far as I could. His screams became more like warbling, quavering notes of hurt and grief. This was the first tine I saw him shed a tear as he started bawling. As his body flailed about, I twisted and churned the probe in all directions making sure I didn’t miss a single spot inside his rectum. And even as incoherent as he was, I could still make out the occasional cursing of my being. And then he went silent and became frozen as even more of his sperm than before shot out like a geyser. He completely washed down the far end of my truck’s hold with his seed. He even knocked one of the cameras out of alignment. A second shot of his sperm ricocheted off some of the equipment and splattered onto me. Well, after that he just collapsed and passed out completely. I continued to work his ass with the electrified probe just to make sure he wasn’t faking it, he wasn’t. So I pulled the probe out of his ass and then began cleaning up by washing everything down with the fire hose, including him.”

F.B.I.- “So, you really never did break him.”

V.M.N.- “His body, yes, but his spirit, no. But that didn’t stop me from trying one more thing. A more passive form of torture.”

F.B.I.- “What could you do? He was unconscious.”

V.M.N.- “Oh, but he would regain consciousness soon enough though. So I decided to let him stew in the back of that truck. I moved the truck to a desolate field where there were no trees or people around for miles, turned off everything including the air conditioner and left him to bake in that truck under the hot Georgian sun for a few days. I wanted to see if a combination of isolation, severe heat and dehydration would break him. Unfortunately for him, I was called back to the embassy for some official nonsense and I wasn’t able to get back to him until five days later.”

F.B.I.- “But a person can’t survive without water for three days. Is he dead?”

V.M.N.- “There have been rare cases where a person survived eight or nine days without water. However, typically that statistic is true, but not for Dylan, he was still quite alive when I got back to him. I opened the roll up door to the truck and there he was as limp as a rag doll and dry as a bone. He was so dehydrated that he wasn’t even able to sweat anymore. When I poured some bottled water over his head, he came back to life and his tongue reached out and lapped up the water trickling down his face. After I gave him a few sips from the bottle, he put his weight back onto his feet, looked me in the eye and told me, “Fuck off you bastard.” Can you imagine that? After everything I put him through, his spirit remained intact. And despite the fact that his spirit remained intact, his body was compromised. When I unshackled him, he collapsed into my arms. I carried his naked body back to my car and drove him to a remote cabin where I could hold him while he got his strength back. And though he remained resolute about regaining his freedom and cursing my very existence, we did have brief moments of civility and intelligent conversation.”

F.B.I.- “That’s just a little Stockholm Syndrome, not unusual in these cases.”

V.M.N.- “I know, I even taught him how to play chess. And all the while, I had posted his video on the dark web and was entertaining all manners of extravagant bids for Dylan’s body. His young and very able body earned me one of my biggest paydays ever since I’ve been doing this. I could have retired on him. And when Dylan was well enough to be shipped, I laced his food with a narcotic that put him into a light coma and placed his unclad body into a coffin that was equipped with oxygen tanks. Some of my clients, however, prefer to have their slaves shipped awake in dog kennel carriers in order to start the process of humiliation even before they get there, but that requires more circumspect and thereby more difficult forms of shipping. But Dylan was sent as a sleeper, out cold in a casket. Ahh, next comes my signature touch that I do with all my recruits, I fitted him with a gold plated teardrop cock ring that was tight enough to induce an erection even while he was in a drug induced coma. So when he is ultimately delivered to his final destination and his new owner opens up the coffin, he’s all ready to go and to be played with, even unconscious if they like. There’s nothing as nice as opening a toy for Christmas that already has the batteries in it. You know what I mean? It’s those little extra touches that my customers appreciate and keeps them coming back for more. And then as I was about to put down the lid on his coffin, I notice his pulsating cock was already producing a profuse flow of pre-cum. So I thought it might be fun to attach a set of battery powered neuro-stimulation electrodes to his cock so that he would be having orgasms throughout his eighteen-hour flight to Siberia, so I quickly wired him up. As I placed the last electrode on that mighty shaft of meat, I had to take a sip of his tea, so I leaned in and kissed the drooling head of his cock. It was so sweet that I almost lost my self in a fantasy of what our life together could be. But before he could have one of his massive orgasms and before I made a reckless decision, I decided to close the coffin. I turned on the electrodes and had to hold down his cock on his stomach so I could close the lid. Locked the coffin shut and Fed Exed his ass to Siberia.”

F.B.I.- “Fed Ex?”

V.M.N.- “Yes, with the proper documentation, you can ship bodies through Fed Ex. And it is easy for a man in my position to forge such documents. All the shipping companies have no idea that they are a vital part of the sex slave trade. F.B.I.- “So the next time I see a Fed Ex or U.P.S. truck, there’s a chance one of your boys could be laid out in the back that truck.”

V.M.N.- “Well, as much as I like that thought, it’s not likely since drop-offs and pick-ups are done directly at the airports. But though, you could say that when you see one of their cargo jetliners.”

F.B.I.- “So where is Dylan now?”

V.M.N.- “Well, you see, all the bids are made anomalously, and I just ship all my recruits to Siberia. An intermediary in Siberia then ships the slaves to another intermediary somewhere I don’t know. And then he or she ships the slaves to their final destination. This ensures my client’s privacy should I ever get discovered and arrested. A funny footnote here, I got word from the first intermediary that the whole battery powered electrode thing wasn’t a good idea. When he opened up the coffin for an inspection before final delivery, Dylan was severely cramped-up and bathing in a slurry of his own sperm, urine and shit. And he was suffocating on his own cum since he was unconscious and unable wipe his nose and mouth clean. It took him over an hour to clean up Dylan and the coffin before he was sent off. So as to Dylan’s whereabouts, sorry, I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted too. Oh, wait a minute, I seem to remember hearing some scuttlebutt about some sort discipline incident regarding him being force-fed beondegi, it’s an old world Korean dish made with silkworm pupae. Dylan refused to eat it, then it was forced down is throat, he threw it up and then he went totally berserk when they took away his clothing privileges. And I hear he may even have hurt a few people before they could subdue him. And that he did all sorts of damage with his bare hands and body. So at least that belligerent spirit of his seems to be intact.”

F.B.I.- “So he may be in Korea? North or South?”

V.M.N.- “I would guess North Korea. That Kim fellow and his mob have money and power. And I hear they’re all horny for humiliating Americans. Or he could be in another country and his owner had that food shipped in just to humiliate him. But at least you can tell his parents that he is alive and well…or maybe not so well, but at least alive. My clients wouldn’t spend all that money just to snuff him out. Although, there have been the occasional so-called accidental deaths when an owner gets carried away with his plaything. And who knows, maybe someone with Dylan’s resolve might manage to escape some day and find his way back home. There is also the possibility that Dylan might outgrow his owner’s tastes. Most of my clients prefer their slaves on the young side. So when a slave gets to old or worn-out, if they are not euthanized, they are quite often set free. Some even become recruiters themselves.”

F.B.I.- “Set free? Aren’t your clients worried that the liberated slaves will turn them in to the authorities?”

V.M.N.- “No, the spirit of a slave is so vanquished by that point that a simple threat of death of a family member will keep them quiet.”

F.B.I.- “But what percentage, would you say, are euthanized? What are Dylan’s chances he’ll come through this?”

V.M.N.- “I couldn’t say absolutely. But what I can tell you is that some owners are like roach motels, you know, slaves check in but they don’t check out. Those owners have a high volume of purchases. Dylan’s owner, one the other hand, has only bought one other slave that I know of. That usually bodes well for a slave’s chances of survival. There’s a good chance that Dylan may reappear someday in ten or twenty years. A bit worse for wear, but alive.”

F.B.I.- “So you know who his owner is?”

V.M.N.- “Only through a series of offshore account numbers that are untraceable, so I still couldn’t give you a name.”

F.B.I.- “Is there anything else at all that you could tell me about Dylan that would give us a clue as to his whereabouts?”

V.M.N.- “No, that’s all I know about him. I can’t help you anymore as far as that young beautiful man is concerned. Am I free to go now?”

F.B.I.- “Not so fast, we still have over two hundred other names to ask you about.

V.M.N.- “Oh, what a bother. I’m only here as a courtesy from my government to yours. I’m being deported you know and I have a lot of things to pack. Can’t I just confess to them all and be done with it? Two hundred or so sounds about right.”

F.B.I.- “I don’t see why you’re in such a hurry to back to Russia. I’m sure your superiors will have a interesting reception waiting for you considering all your activities here in the states.”

V.M.N.- “Hmm, what you may have failed to consider, Agent Winsted, is that maybe some of my clients are my superiors. And when I return home, I may just be reassigned to an embassy in another country, perhaps a country where many of your young American boys like to go on spring break or some such thing. And they will get drunk and some of them will get separated and lost, and then I will find them.”

F.B.I.- “You are a monster.”

V.M.N.- “Yes, yes, yes, maybe so. Or maybe I’m just a businessman who fulfills the desires of the very wealthy and the extremely powerful. Now, let’s continue with my confessions. What is the next name on your list?”

This concludes chapter one of the transcribed confessions of Mr. Nikitovich

Supplemental report, December 2, 2017, by Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Agent, Theodore Winsted.

Mr. Vasnev Medved Nikitovich, a.k.a. The Bear, is currently assigned to the Russian embassy in Tel Aviv, Israel. It is the opinion of this agent that Mr. Nikitovich is connected to and/or responsible for the recent disappearances of eleven young male Israeli nationals and fifteen young male tourist visiting Israel from various other nations including the United States. A travel advisory is issued to all young men visiting Tel Aviv not to accept drinks or rides from unknown persons.