Gay Billionaire E-Book

Scott Green

• Herausgeber: BF Pub
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Ten stories means it’s ten times the heat, with this collection of hot gay erotica, right here for taking. This BUNDLE is filled with many facets of love, pleasure and romance of rich gays in different circumstances, era and various sexcapades. Get these bundle for the price of ONE. Grab your copy now!!!

Leseprobe

Gay Billionaire

10 Erotica Gay Romance Bundle

By: Scott Green

WARNING

This book contains sexually explicit scenes and languages in which to others can be offensive. Not for sale to Minors

Copyright 2013

All Rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior the prior permission in writing of the copyright holder.

CONTENT

Gay Billionaire

Billionaire Gay Lover

Another Man’s Son

Antigua Love

Intense Lust

Empire’s Desire

Lost

Almost Paradise

Gay Pride

Greek Romance

Billionaire Gay Lover

By: Chris Johns

I know I"m a slut, I didn"t care, I was also a high class, unadvertised rent boy, and didn"t care. I came from the mean streets of East London and I cared about that.

I wanted the world, I wanted to be the male equivalent of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, the prostitute who marries the billionaire.

I worked as an assistant store man at the Ford Motor Works at Dagenham in Essex, England. When I finished work each day I cycled home to my parents mean little terraced house in town. It had two miniscule bedrooms, two small reception rooms and a kitchen and bathroom, neither of which had enough room to swing a cat. I didn"t go out during the week and I never spent any money that I could avoid. The only saving grace of that existence was that I had no siblings so I at least had a bedroom to myself, huh, bedroom, more like a rabbit hutch.

Saturday nights that changed. I donned a designer outfit that cost me more than one month"s wages. I looked worth a million dollars. Into the West End of London and the Inn on the Park Cocktail Bar from 8pm until 10pm, nursed one cocktail. 10 to 12 The Hilton, Park Lane, same routine. 12 „till 2, The Dorchester, if I wasn"t lucky enough to get a punter, home on a night bus. If I got a punter I made upwards of five hundred pounds for the night and most Saturday"s I got a punter. The money got salted away for my rainy day.

Pretty shitty existence you say and you"d be right, but let me tell you about me.

Nicky Old, eighteen years old, reasonable education, very articulate, (I used to belong to the debating society at my school). That got me a load of grief from my mates but I wanted to be able to talk to people. I thought good communication skills would get me

out of my lower working class environment. Fully grown now and about five foot nine, 140 lbs of the sexiest looking male you"ve ever seen and that isn"t boasting. I could make a couple of hundred pounds every night for a f~uck and that was from my work mates, but that wasn"t what I wanted. I had a really neat body that I kept in shape at the local gym, good pecs, an obvious six pack, nice legs. I had a tiny waist, slim hips and a butt that made people gasp when they saw it. The package at the front wasn"t going to shame me either, not enormous but bigger than average. Oh, and just to make it all worthwhile I had a shock of golden coloured curly hair that sat on my head like a golden fleece. The palest blue eyes you"ve ever seen sat in a face to launch a thousand ships just like Helen of Troy, the problem was no one appeared to want to carry me off to their kingdom. I didn"t get depressed but boy did I have to work at that.

The next Saturday, same routine. Ten o"clock and I turned from the bar to leave the Inn on the Park for pastures new and walked into the dishiest man I had seen all night.

“I"m truly sorry, I must learn to look where I"m going.”

Accent, f~uck no, I sounded like I belonged here. Dishy man steadied himself with a hand on my shoulder and smiled at me,

“No harm done, stay and have a drink with me so that I can prove to you I"m not upset.”

Accent, yes, but not much. I picked it up though, somewhere in the Middle East, that"s oil, that"s money, so I turned the charm up to high gear and stayed for a drink.

Introductions completed, me Nicky, him Jean Pierre. Me, surprised, he definitely was not French.

I had another cocktail he had a beer and I found out, he was Tunisian. Nice guy, educated in England, quite suave but not yucky

suave. I really liked him, he was witty, articulate like me, very complimentary about my looks and my dress. We both learnt lots about each other, I was even half honest about my background, interrogation then.

“Why do you come here Nicky, drinks must be a horrendous price for you?”

“They are a bit, but one day this kind of place is going to be my local bar, I"m not always going to be poor.”

We had been chatting for ages, I was surprised when I looked at my watch and realised it was after midnight. I needed to head for The Dorchester if I was going to stand any chance of a punter.

“I"m sorry, Jean Pierre. I must go now. It has been a pleasure meeting you.”

I was ready to go then already starting to stand up.

“Nicky, please don"t. Come back to my apartment for a nightcap and then you can stay for the night or I will get my chauffeur to drive you home.”

I told him I couldn"t. It was then that he shook me to my core.

“Please don"t be insulted Nicky but I think you are a rent boy. If I"m correct will you stay with me for the night for 1,000 pounds?”

Shit, would I.

“I"m not insulted Jean Pierre, but how did you know?”

“Unfortunately, Nicky, I have had too much experience picking up rent boys to not pick up on it. I am surprised you haven"t come on to me.”

I shrugged, “I guess I just liked you too much to let you think badly of me.”

“I don"t and I won"t. 1000 pounds to me is less than nothing so it is less in percentage terms than you leaving a pound tip for the barman.”

I looked at him and saw the laughter in his eyes, not at me but for me.

I laughed too. “Ok, just this once.”

We didn"t even need a car to get to his apartment and what an apartment. Huge, my parents whole house would have fitted into his lounge. He showed me round and by the time we got back to the lounge I was speechless. I had been in some nice pads but this was stupendous. Not only was it huge but the furniture and fittings were as luxurious as anything I had ever set eyes on.

He told me to sit down and did I want a drink.

“Yes please, can I have a fruit juice?”

“Nothing stronger?”

“No,” I replied, “To be worth 1,000 pounds I have to be sober or

I won"t be able to perform at my best.”

I said it in a matter of fact tone and he laughed.

“I tell you what Nicky, you have whatever you like, if you are less than perfect I"ll give you another thousand pounds to stay and see if you can get it right tomorrow.”

I was rendered almost speechless again. This guy was being so nice and didn"t appear to be worried whether I was good in bed or not.

“I"ll still have a fruit juice I think, Jean Pierre.”

He shrugged and got me a juice, he had the same and we sat talking for another hour before he asked me if I would like a shower before going to bed. Of course I said yes, when a punter asks you if you want a shower he is as good as telling you he wants a thoroughly clean body to play with, so I said that would be nice.

“I want to give you an enema first, is that ok?”

“Sure, no problem, that could be fun.”

I knew that would make him laugh.

We went through to his bedroom and undressed just looking at each other as we did it.

“You are a beautiful young man Nicky, I"m going to enjoy your body.”

I blushed he was being really nice.

He had a great body as well, really toned but not over muscled. Both naked and he gave me an enema not prolonging things or embarrassing me in any way and then we hopped into the shower, both together and still enough room for a football team. Multiple spray heads, it was great.

He told me to shower him first and then he would do me. That was great I had scoped out his whole body by the time I had finished and got him a massive erection. He was bigger than me both in length and thickness but not too big for me to feel uncomfortable at the thought of him reaming out my arse with it. Surprised then, he told me to give him a blowjob before he cleaned me up. So I did.

I licked his balls first while I stroked his cock to get the feel of it. After a little while I used my hand to play with his ball sac while my mouth took charge of his cock. Really hard, it sat at an angle of about 45 degrees to the horizontal so I could lick all round it without using my other hand if I wanted to. What I did do was use my thumb and forefinger to open his piss slit and stick my tongue in it stabbing away for a minute while he squirmed. Then I licked the glans, lightly to start with adding more pressure gradually before taking the whole thing in my mouth and swabbing it with my tongue paying particular attention to the underside just below his circumcision scar. F~uck he was on a hair trigger he shot blast after blast into my mouth. I could tell then that he was a clean living guy because his cum still tasted sweet like my own. I kept sucking him gently until he went soft and I was sure I had all of his love juice in my stomach.

“Now you know why I needed to cum before we got to bed, I wouldn"t have lasted long enough to get inside you.” He pulled me gently to my feet and for the first time kissed me. Wow, was he ever a cool kisser, I melted. He bathed me then getting me rampantly hard but he didn"t let me cum. All dried off and with a new toothbrush supplied to clean my teeth we retired to his giant bed.

He lay down on his back in the centre of it and said to me, “Ok Nicky, pamper me until I am so turned on that I will want only one thing and that is to bury my penis into your cute butt.”

This was great I loved playing with a body as buffed as Jean Pierre was, lovely nipples to stroke and kiss, pecs and abs to run my

hands and tongue over as well. He was very responsive and it was easy to find his erogenous regions. He loved being rimmed but he didn"t want me to penetrate him with anything other than my tongue. I was having a ball. I definitely wanted him to f~uck me but I loved playing with him first. He let me play for about half an hour. I was amazed that he lasted so long before he told me to take his place he was going to f~uck me hard. He only spent about two minutes opening me up before lubing us both and entering me in one smooth stroke. He hurt like hell but remained still until he saw the pain leave my eyes. That had surprised me, most of my punters would stop as soon as they were over my sphincter to give me a chance to adjust. As soon as I was comfortable he went at me as though he only had a second to cum, very fast and hard. It was a real shock and I had hardly had time to think about it before he shot jet after jet of cum into me. I felt them all they were so powerful. He remained inside me until he was soft and then rolled over and pulled me into a cuddle. No words were spoken but I was really disappointed, I thought he would be a great lover. Five minute cuddle and then he got out of bed went to the bathroom where I heard running water. When he came back he was drying his genitals and carrying a flannel with the other hand. He wiped off my bottom, dried it and walked back to the bathroom. I was confused, he was so different from what I had expected.

When he came back he slid onto the bed alongside me and started kissing me, lovely gentle kisses all over my face before working his way down my body. He was unbelievable, no one had ever made love to me like this, I slid off to paradise in no time at all. What he did to my cock and balls defied belief. Looking back on it I still can"t believe that I didn"t cum, it was absolutely the best pleasuring I had ever experienced. His tongue on my glans had me squealing with pleasure, his tongue probing my arse was equally as thrilling. I had never been so hard, my cock felt as though it was going to burst. He lubed us up and my disappointment must have shown. I expected another rough f~ucking and he knew because he was smiling as he slid gently over my sphincter and very gently moved around with just an inch or so inside me, it was incredible. It

must have been ten minutes before he went in any further and then he f~ucked me with long slow strokes, rotating his hips for each entry so that I had no idea which batch of nerves he was going to strike next. I think I nearly died with the pleasure before he let me cum with him in the most intense orgasm of my life. I nearly screamed the house down.

He rolled onto his side almost straight after, pulling me with him so that he was still embedded in me as he went soft. It was heaven, he just kissed me very gently while he stroked my body and my butt. When we were both calmed down he lifted me off the bed and carried me to the shower. I realised then how strong he was, not a lot bigger than me but he carried me like I was a bag of feathers. He pampered me in the shower, dried me off and then walked me back to bed. Not one word had been uttered during that time. I was in shock I think the whole session had just been amazing.

He cuddled me to him and said, “That was wonderful Nicky, you are a talented and beautiful lover, I will want to do that frequently.”

What could I say except, “Yes please.”

He laughed, leant over to turn out the lights and we slept. What a wonderful night"s sleep I had as well. When I woke up he was gone. The curtains were open and I could see that it was quite late by the position of the sun. I hopped out of bed, grabbed a quick shower and cleaned my teeth before putting on my clothes and going to find Jean Pierre. He was in the kitchen at a breakfast bar with the Sunday papers spread round him and a cup of coffee at his elbow. He was wearing a short robe and as far as I could see nothing else. There was another man there who looked like a butler, which was what he was.

“Good morning lover, how are you this morning?”

“Morning Jean Pierre, I don"t think I have ever felt this good in the morning in my life.”

He laughed and asked me what Robert could get me for breakfast. I realised I was very hungry so I said a full English breakfast, God it was good. When I finished I looked at the clock and realised I was having brunch, it was nearly noon.

“What would you like to do today Nicky?”

I was a bit taken back, I thought he would pay me and say goodbye and I would go home.

“I don"t know, I was expecting to be asked to leave so that you could get on with your weekend.”

He smiled at me and with an obviously false leer told me he hoped I would stay because he wasn"t finished with my body yet. I blushed because I knew Robert had heard as well.

“I"m free until tonight if you want me to stay, then I have to get home because I have work in the morning.”

* * *

He looked at me for a minute and then got up, took my hand and led me through to the lounge sitting me down on a settee with him.

“I"m being serious now Nicky. How much do you earn a month at your job?”

I blushed, it was peanuts, “About six hundred pounds.”

“Ok. That is 7,200 pounds a year yes?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a bank account?”

“Yes of course.” I couldn"t see where this was going.

“If I deposit 9,200 pounds in your account in the morning, that"s 1,000 for last night, and another thousand for tonight, plus one year"s salary will you stay with me and see how we get on?”

I was shocked, I had wanted a knight in shining armour to carry me off to his castle and make love to me forever but I hadn"t thought of Jean Pierre as that person.

I eventually found my voice and kind of squeaked at him, “Oh yes please.”

That was it, he carried me back to bed and made gentle, sensitive, mind blowing love to me for about two hours. I was wasted.

He took me to a wonderful restaurant for dinner and told me that the next day we would go to the bank first to deposit my money, then his Doctor to get me a certificate to send to work saying I would be unable to work for a month because of injuries sustained in an accident at the weekend. I looked shocked and he looked embarrassed.

“I don"t want you to lose your job in case we don"t work out.” Nice of him.

“After that Nicky we are going to get you a new wardrobe.”

I telephoned my parents and told them I wouldn"t be home for a while but I was perfectly ok.

* * *

The Monday was the beginning of my new life. The little East End slut had found his Pretty Woman Billionaire and I was going to make it work.

The wardrobe he bought me was mind blowing, thousands of pounds worth of designer clothes, expensive smellies, designer watch and a gold choker. He even bought me a superb leather toiletry case and a set of travelling bags.

“You will have to get a passport if you don"t already have one Nicky because we will travel quite a lot.”

This was getting better by the minute. Time seemed to fly by and before I knew it we were looking at decision time with regard to my job.

“Do you want to stay Nicky? The money is yours whatever your decision.”

Of course I said yes, hell I would have stayed even if I didn"t like him very much. But I stayed for the reason I didn"t want to admit to myself. I was falling in love with him. He was just so nice I couldn"t believe how well he treated me, always with respect and as an equal - not as a paid rent boy. I found out why that night.

We hadn"t made love, both of us had blown the other in the shower and then just snuggled up in bed. He turned the light out but started stroking my body, he was gentle and it felt so good I was almost purring.

“You know why I want you to stay?” I snuggled in closer and almost whispered into his chest, “No, tell me.”

“I"m falling in love with you and I want you to stay forever.”

I pulled away from him and turned the light back on. I had tears in my eyes when I said, “Don"t tease me Jean Pierre, that"s not fair”

He kissed my nose, saw my tears and kissed them away before saying, “I"m not teasing Nicky. You are a wonderful boy, falling in love with you has been very easy for me.”

Then I cried, “I love you too but I never dared think you would love me.”

My life just kept getting better, Jean Pierre set up a trust fund for me so that I would always be able to live well even if we split up, his reasoning dumbfounded me.

“I don"t want a little tramp staying with me while he works all the angles. I have made you independently wealthy so now I know without any doubt that you are with me because you want to be not because I am rich.”

More tears, how could he be so generous, I was a little tramp but I was very quickly becoming a little gentleman falling deeper and deeper in love.

Our lovemaking was off this planet and just kept getting better, I couldn"t believe where he took me when he made love to me and he said I did the same when I made love to him, but I was not allowed to penetrate him ever.

“Would you like to f~uck someone Nicky?” was his opening comment one day when we were snuggling. I looked stunned, “Oh no I love what we have, I couldn"t wish for more.”

“Have you ever been the top Nicky?”

My reply was, “Yes, frequently punters wanted me to f~uck them.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh yes, it can be so good.”

“So you would like to do it again?”

I was getting confused.

“No my lover, because I know you don"t want it.”

“True, but I could get us an escort for the night sometime and let you f~uck him.”

I hugged him very tight and said, “Please don"t Jean Pierre, I love you so much I don"t want to risk anything spoiling it.”

He nearly crushed me then as he said, “You really and truly do love me then?”

“Of course I do, you know I can leave if I don"t.” That was it, he never asked again and it never worried me that I was always the bottom.

My life was perfect, how could I have been so lucky? Then I woke up, it was Mum yelling, “Come on Nicky get up or you"ll be late for work.”

Part 2

I staggered out of bed, looked around at my mean little room and wanted to cry. I was devastated. The dream had been so real. Jean Pierre had kept me for a weekend and always thereafter, it couldn"t be a dream, I loved him so much. I had never believed all this love at first sight crap but that was almost the reality with Jean

Pierre. I hadn"t wanted to be the little slut with him ever, I would have slept with him for nothing almost from the second we started talking. Was any of it real or had the whole weekend been a dream. Dream, reality, I didn"t know which was which.

I showered and dressed for work, there was no hurry, I wouldn"t be eating breakfast, I felt gutted. I checked my Saturday night clothes they were immaculate. I checked the pockets to make sure they were empty and there it was, a check for £2,000, Jean Pierre"s signature.

“Mum, when did I get home?”

“What do you mean, when did you get home, don"t you know?”

“No, tell me.”

“A fancy limousine brought you home about 1 o"clock this morning. You were so tired I had to put you to bed.”

All I had to do was get an express clearance on the check and then at least I would be a lot better off than I had been on Friday and would know some of it wasn"t a dream. I have to admit I was pretty depressed most of the week. The check cleared ok but I was still gutted.

Saturday came and I went up to the West End as normal but my heart wasn"t in it.

I started at the Inn on the Park but I couldn"t stay, too many memories of last week so I left early for the Hilton. Truth have it, the Hilton was a better pick up point anyway. The American"s preferred that and they were usually good for one punt even if I only made about $500 instead of £500, but I didn"t mind this week, I was going to be a lousy f~uck anyway.

I had downed two cocktails and was beginning to think I didn"t want to do this anymore. I thought I would wander along Piccadilly and maybe for a change go into a Gay club and try for a pick up from a guy that just wanted to make love to me because I was me.

I got up from the bar, turned to leave and saw him immediately. He was stood in the doorway looking straight at me. I lost it immediately, I just sat straight back down and burst into tears. What a f~ucking stupid thing to do.

He was by my side in a nanosecond. He pulled me into his arms and cuddled me. I think every eye in the bar was on us.

“It"s ok Nicky, don"t cry anymore, we"re going home.”

He helped me out of the bar and into a taxi, hardly worth it considering the distance but I was pleased really. He got me up to the apartment and before I knew it I was in his arms again being cuddled on a sofa.

“I"m sorry, I"m so sorry, I love you so much, please let me stay. I don"t want any money ever, I just want to be with you.”

I lost it completely then I guess because the next thing I knew was the sun shining in through the windows as I opened my eyes. Same room as last weekend, I looked at the other side of the bed. It had been slept in but was now empty which was how I felt. I lay still for a few minutes gathering my thoughts and taking in my condition.

I had lost it as soon as I saw him, I remember entering the apartment and then nothing. I looked under the covers, I was naked, I looked around and my clothes were on a gentleman"s clothes horse with my shoes stowed underneath. I looked at the clock on the bedside table, nearly midday, I had slept for twelve hours as close as I could guess.

The door started to open and as soon as I saw him I curled up in the foetal position and started to cry, quietly this time, gentle tears for the loss of something that I never really had except in my imagination.

He sat down on the bed and gently pulled me into his arms. He cuddled me, stroking my body with such tenderness it made me gasp.

“I thought I had lost you, I was such a fool last week letting you go.”

I looked into a pair of worried eyes, plus something else. As I calmed down I thought about what he had just said.

“What do you mean, you thought you had lost me?”

“I should never have let you go last Sunday. I love you as well and want you with me always.”

Too much for my fragile disposition at that moment in time. I broke down again, huge gut wrenching sobs, I was nearly convulsing as I replied to his comment.

“Please don"t tease, I love you so much. Just let me get dressed, I"ll go, I"ll not be a nuisance. I"m so sorry I made a scene.”

That took me forever to say because it was one word in between each long drawn out sob.

He lay me back down on the bed and went. He was back in no time with a glass.

“Here, drink this, one gulp, no sipping.”

I did and nearly went into orbit. It was cognac, which should be sipped not gulped. It started a fire deep down in my guts cutting off anymore ideas about crying. Sure my eyes were watering but that was caused by the fire not the emotions.

“Before you have time to get hysterical again, listen to me. I love you Nicky, I shouldn"t have let you go last weekend. Now I"m not going to. I mean it lover, you are going to stay with me forever if you want to.”

I looked into his eyes and saw the love and concern. I just threw myself back into his arms and gave him the most passionate kiss I had ever given anyone. I couldn"t look at him after it, so I just buried my face in his neck and hung onto him waiting for his reaction.

It started as a little rumble in his stomach, I could feel the vibration through my own stomach, then it grew and moved upwards, finally it was a great big bout of laughter.

“What a fool I am, all this trauma unnecessarily, can you forgive me little one?”

I looked into his laughing eyes this time and shed a few more tears, these were happy ones though and I nodded.

He lay me back down again, dropped his robe on the floor and hopped back into bed, naked, the same as me.

“It"s very late so no sex, just an hour of cuddles and then some brunch, yes?”

I nodded, I wasn"t ready for speech yet.

I was in heaven, he cuddled me and gently stroked me for almost an hour telling me how much he had missed me and how he had realised it was because he had fallen in love with me. He told me

that if he hadn"t found me last night he was going to drive to my house this morning to try to find me.

A wonderful pampered shower followed and then brunch. I was floating on air.

We went through to the lounge afterwards and he sat me down cuddling me.

“Now, no messing about, you are going to „phone home and tell your parents you won"t be home for about a week. You have a new job in town and will tell them all about it when you see them. First thing tomorrow morning you"ll „phone work, apologise, and tell them you resign, effective immediately. Ok so far?”

I nodded.

“After that we will have a light breakfast and then go back to bed because I am sure I will want to make love to you again by then, ok?”

I nodded again.

“Now, what would you like to do for the remainder of today?”

“Can you take me back to bed now and show me how you are going to make love to me tomorrow after breakfast?”

He nearly fell off the couch laughing, but he did take me back to bed. The love making was nothing like it had been the previous weekend. It was totally off this planet, and the proof was the quantity of cum I generated and the volume of my tears, wonderful happy tears for this man that I had fallen for big time.

What a week we had, new passport for me, visa so that I could go to Tunisia with him. A whole rack of new clothes and

accessories. A complete makeover at a beauty parlour, not that I needed it, te, he, he. Wow, did I ever look good after it. A really neat haircut then a beautician worked on my skin. I had a facial scrub and eyebrow trim after I had been shaved, then my whole body was exfoliated except for a neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair and a little left under my arms. That was a little embarrassing particularly when the defoliant was applied to my crack, she was very careful not to get any on my rosebud but I could feel how close she got. Yeah, it was the same female beautician did the lot. Mind you she was a good ten to fifteen years older than me so it didn"t seem too bad. I had a wonderful massage and Turkish Bath before the final bit which was a complete manicure and pedicure. I felt like a million dollars by the time I walked out of there.

“I think when we get to Tunisia all my friends are going to enjoy making love to you, you are absolutely perfect.”

I was stunned, all his friends making love to me was not in my thoughts. I looked at him in shock until I saw his eyes.

“Not fair.”

He was almost giggling as he pulled me into his arms.

“They will all want to though Baby. There are lots of very beautiful boys in my country but you are stunning.”

I looked up at him and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Thank you Jean Pierre, I will always try to please you because I love you so much. You won"t really let anyone else make love to me will you?”

“No, of course not little one. I will never share you.”

During the course of the week I found out that JP"s family owned several large tourist resorts in Spain and France as well as in

Tunisia itself. He was incredibly wealthy but his father still expected him to do some work.

“As far as anyone is concerned Nicky you are going to be my new Assistant. You will have to learn French and if you are at all linguistic we will try you on Spanish and Arabic as well. I will show you the basics of what you need to do and we will worry about the remainder as we go.”

This all sounded so exciting.

On the Friday morning JP said he had to go to Cannes in the South of France for a meeting and a dinner in the evening but he would be back on Saturday. This would be a good opportunity to go to see my parents. I needed to tell them about the new job and the fact that I would be travelling all over Europe and North Africa. He gave me a set of keys to the apartment.

“Just in case Robert isn"t here when you get back from your parents.”

Now this really was like a dream.

Mum and Dad were amazed. They had to believe me because I had gone to see them dressed very expensively but very soberly, like a businessman might dress when he was being casual. I had bought them both presents, sort of going away presents.

“I don"t know when I shall be home again but I will keep in touch. When I am in England I will be staying here,” and I passed them a business card that JP had made for me, “That"s my London address and telephone number, plus my cell „phone, you can get me on that anywhere anytime.”

They were impressed. Mum particularly.

She gave me a hug and a kiss and said, “I always knew you would do well, you worked so hard to be better than your friends and you"ve always been a good boy.”

She would have been disappointed if she had known what a slut I had been for the last couple of years, but hopefully that was all behind me. I didn"t know where this was likely to go with JP, I hoped it would go on forever but I tried to be realistic. „I"ll love him as long as he"ll have me, I"ll work hard to continue improving my knowledge base and I"ll keep investing every penny I can so that I"ll never be poor again, but most of all I"ll try to make JP proud of me."

I guess it worked, my life became one long fairy tale. I did appear to have a penchant for languages as well because after my first year with JP I could speak very acceptable French and Spanish. Arabic was a different matter and it was over five years before that came naturally to me. We did spend a lot of time in Tunisia, which helped.

I"m now nearly thirty and senior assistant to the President of the Company. JP"s father died a few years ago now and JP took over the company. I could have sat back and done nothing but that wasn"t my way. JP told me he was pleased because I really was indispensable. Funny, the single most important thing I did was organize scheduled and unscheduled meetings and trips for JP, using the same computer programme as I had used in the stores at Ford.

Oh, and he still thinks I"m his baby, makes love to me most nights and has never failed to make me feel like the most important person in his life. Of course he is the most important person in mine and I make sure I tell him and show him at every opportunity.

Another Man’s Son

By:PJ Franklin

Chapter 1

I have never considered myself to be a cruel man; then again, everyone has one or two blind spots that always seem to escape notice. It all started one evening during a charity event. By now I had the means to shell out quite a bit of cash both for tax purposes as well as a genuine empathy for causes, environmental efforts my favorite.

I think we were saving South American rain forests for that evening and as was quite commonplace, a part of the fund-raising involved a lively auction off of owned male slaves for a few hours of sexual enjoyment to the winners. I had been to many events of this nature, but had never actually bid on a slave for sex and not that I didn’t favor males over females for sex, I did. I was gay, I loved sex, especially with men much younger than my fifty some years.

I also loved kink, especially that involving the pain and pleasure of corporal punishment, spanking. I had enjoyed spanking scenes with men here and there for decades, but nothing that ever lasted more than a time or two with the same like-minded man. I should mention that I was pretty picky with who I wanted to play with.

Having observed the age and looks of slaves offered up at several of these events, I never quite could favor the choices. They either looked too old or body shapes that displeased me. That night, however, I spied a slave that somehow fit the bill for me. The roster said he was twenty, but he looked quite a bit younger. He was white, stood at six foot and slightly underweight for height and judged that others who valued his near-perfect ass cheeks as I did would be driving up the cost of his auction by quite a bit.

I got to fondle this boy’s goods before the bidding started as his owner, a tall good looking black man who sat nearby, watched. The boy did not have a name, just a number, in this case #48.

Speaking of names and numbers, controversy had existed for decades over whether a slave should have a real name, a nickname or just a number. The governmental legal regulations concerning slavery were nearly as large as the re-vamped federal tax code and none of it covered the controversy, go figure. The whole thing was boorish and though I had considered myself supportive of the idea that humans could now be bought and sold as property under the New Order given proper legal cause or financial necessity, I guess I thought myself above the fray of actual ownership even questioning the morals of those who did have the means to buy and control a human being in such a manner.

Yet, running my hands up and down #48’s smooth, white and nearly flawless skin and over those hot round ass-mounds that evening gave me not only a big boner, but a long pause to reconsider my morals or perceptions of slave ownership.

“Go ahead, put your finger in his mouth and then run it up his pussy,” the owner said from his seat. I nodded to him and did just that. The slave wet my finger with his own spit and then with one smooth strong move, I jammed it up his butthole to see how he would respond. #48 whimpered, even groaned a little as his ass cheeks clenched and the expression of worry, even dread on his cute face affected me quite unexpectedly really. I felt my cock pre-cumming in my shorts, a nice surprise indeed.

“He’s relatively new, pretty tight still. I don’t believe in frequent anal intercourse with my bitches, wears them out too soon and then their resale value plummets like a dick that’s had too much action, I’m Jamal, and you are?” the owner said coming forward to introduce himself. We shook hands.

“Austin Miles,” I replied.

“Good to meet you Austin. What are you into?” he asked as I stayed at #48’s side and fondled his cock and balls next.

“The corporal punishment arts mostly, spanking. If it’s a hot ass, I want to make it nice and red and then f~uck it,” I said aloud adding to not only my pleasure, but also to the slave-boy’s worried expression.

Jamal chuckled, “This one hates that sort of thing, so he gets it a lot. He’ll learn, won’t you pussy boy?”

“Yes Master,” the boy said quietly, I thought with begrudging respect.

“Sounds to me like he needs a good whipping over a man’s knee,” I commented.

“Good eye Austin, that he does. You look like just the man for the job, good luck in the bidding,” Jamal closed out.

I didn’t believe in luck unless you meant luck stemming from hard work. I did not lose the bid for #48 and that despite the ardent efforts of three other men and two women with very deep budgets. Inside of the next ninety minutes or so I used my purchased rights to have #48 begging and bawling using a set of implements that Jamal provided on the spot in a private room in back of the event area.

I began with a warm-up spanking, his bare bottom cheeks angled nicely over my knees so that I could finger-tease his butthole and hand spank his cheeks. This did not affect him much, but I sure enjoyed slapping his sexy curvatures, my palm slapping side to side, up and down.

Next came the paddles. I reached for a traditional number, an old wooden school paddle. He didn’t like that so much at all, lots of squirming and whimpering and twenty or so licks later, he was yelling with each strike. Then I changed his position, laid him on his back, legs drawn up and back, the diapering position. I changed paddles to a Lexan plastic, not my favorite; but I wanted to try it and it proved very effective. He was blubbering by then, but I was just getting started.

Next, I angled #48 over the back of a chair, legs spread. The temptation to pause and eat out his tight butthole was strong, but I postponed that pleasure. Having always admired things British, I used cane and tawse on #48 next. My ears filled with his howls and eyes with his writhing and crisscrossed linear welts upon a deepening crimson background. That really got my prick to oozing precum.

By the end of it, his ass was pretty tore up. Jamal smiled and nodded, “Superb, well done Austin, don’t you think boy?” he directed to #48 who blubbered out a nearly unintelligible response, Jamal rolling his eyes. I just chuckled.

I got naked, it was time to put my cock to good use with #48. Jamal watched closely as I put my bought slave into a tight sixty-nine position with me on top. I licked out his butthole for quite a nice stretch and made him do the same to me. I loved rimming, one of my favorite sex acts. Next was cock-sucking. He did fairly well at that and I even took my turn sucking on his young rod and got it hard despite my prior treatment of him.

I was not in the best shape physically at the time, so I was tiring. Time for the grand finale, but first, a spur of the moment idea.

“Jamal, could you hand-cuff this slut for me?”

“A pleasure Austin, of course,” and I watched carefully as he procured a beautiful set of chrome manacles and hobbled the boy’s wrists behind his back. Oh yes, perfect. I pushed the boy prone onto the bed and pounced, ravenous predator onto his helpless prey.

I started slowly, pushing my cock through #48’s still quite tight pucker and watched his face gather up in dread. Jamal had not been wrong. I could nearly not tell that the boy had ever been much used anally by his owner, nice and tight this one. When I finally popped past his ring, he started crying again.

“Keep that shit to yourself boy! Nobody here wants to hear it!” Jamal chastised him.

“Yes Master,” he sobbed and restrained his vocalizations from then out.

I picked up speed and started to f~uck him in earnest. I had seldom had such a hot looking piece of ass, much less, as I drew my cock in and out, I could feel the hand-cuff’s metallic textures chaffing against my lower tummy, quite a nice sensation really. My rapture at the end of it all was eye opening in that it seemed almost perfunctory, the journey getting there much more enlightening than the ending.

“So, what do think Austin? Might you be in the market after tonight?” Jamal asked and as I dressed I contemplated his question.

I had never done anything like this before, but quickly concluded that there was no point in a pretentious show of hypocrisy, “I just might be my friend, I just might be,” I replied knowing that I was much more than just a little interested, but little did I know.

* * * * *

I owned and operated a company that brokered the sales of other companies large and small. It was a very lucrative, but also a very cutthroat business that required nerve and cat-like reflexes. Flinch and you could lose a profitable sale or even become one of the hunted companies and yet I enjoyed it, probably no surprise there.

A rival company’s owner, Ben Farmer, an exceedingly handsome man, coldly decided I should go down upon the insistence of one of his client’s desire to buy my company for himself. Using barely legal tactics that were considered dirty even in my business, he nearly succeeded and though I survived, it would cost me dearly for months to come.

At the end of the negotiations, Ben sat on the other side of the long boardroom table with a stupid grin on his face,

“Come on Austin, ol’ buddy, it’s not personal, it’s just business. Now why don’t you let me buy you a couple drinks, hell dinner besides.”

I wanted to kill him, I did. He nearly r~aped me of my whole life across that table and yet he was right. It was just business and Ben was just doing his job. That I knew Ben and his family, had for years really, could not play into this bitter end game so I thickly swallowed my pride and nodded.

“Yea, it’s just business,” and I did take him up on his offer and he did buy me drinks and dinner that night and I did laugh at his insulting crude jokes about fags, priests and Jews. I went home afterwards and putting the whole nasty affair behind me the next day, I started out to reclaim what Ben Farmer had taken from me.

Months passed, a year’s worth. I had put off buying a slave because of time, not money. Don’t forget that with the pleasures of slave ownership came regulations, laws and responsibility. You could not just lock a slave up and not feed it or care for its medical needs. Beat it all you wanted, just clean up the mess and don’t let it get sick, that sort of thing. I didn’t have the time at first, but the time did come and when it did, even I could not have anticipated how it all went down.

I’ll never forget it, ever. I had kept in touch with Jamal Wilkens, the owner whose boy, #48, I had spanked, whipped and f~ucked the daylights out of at the charity event months before. Jamal was now the part owner of a slave trader group called East Coast Servitude Services (ECSS). ECSS was but one of hundreds of government licensed brokerage houses for slave sales across the planet.

I finally had the money and time combined to give Jamal a call one day. He invited me to check out his facility and stock. I had never been inside of a slave brokerage. You really couldn’t tell the difference between the insides of that building and that of a prison, just a lot nicer cosmetically speaking.

He showed me around the holding cells housing boys of legal slave age, 18 and up, but unlike a conventional prison, Jamal’s place only housed those boys who were either judicially sentenced to involuntary servitude or had volunteered for servitude on account of severe financial need and at the same time judged by Jamal and his group to be physically attractive enough for sale in order to fetch good auction prices.

I had shared my woes concerning Ben Farmer with Jamal several times over the prior months and he proved to be an exceptionally good listener. He even understood my business just as well as I did. I did not whine to him about it, but it was still good to share my frustration with him.

One afternoon he called me, “Austin, you had better get down to my place now. Run, don’t walk,” he said with urgency.

“What’s up?” I asked excitedly.

“It’s a surprise you won’t believe,” he said. I did as Jamal said. I ran and did not walk.

When I got to ECSS’s front door, there Jamal was and said nothing but sported the smirkiest grin I had ever seen on a grown man. He then led me deep inside to a particular holding cell handing me a certain slave’s manifest, the slut’s complete life history, statistics and in this case, criminal rap sheet.

I looked at the boy first thinking I recognized him and then checked his birthdate. He was 18 years and five months only. He was as attractive a boy as I had ever seen on the streets, much less a slave; but when I saw his name and particularly his father’s name, I almost turned into a giggling teenaged girl.

I looked at Jamal. He looked at me, “Revenge is best served off a hot ass, don’t you think my friend?”

Indeed. The boy’s name (that is before the judge in charge of his case stripped him of it) had been Ryan Farmer, Ben Farmer’s son. Yes, it was true. Dear old Ben’s eldest son had not only found himself deeply on the wrong side of the law, but had nearly got his old man into deep shit as well. Ben survived, but barely. In any case, dear pretty boy Ryan had not.

“I got lucky. I called you as soon as I won the contract on this one from the state center,” Jamal said, “Get your head up bitch!!” he yelled into the cell.

Yes, it was true. Ryan Farmer knew me, I had met him several times when he was considerably younger. He had been as arrogant and cocky as Ben had been and I’m sure was set up to take over Ben’s business in true Farmer fashion, edge of the law and all. The slave looked up and when he saw me, his whole body seemed to become a model of abject misery and he covered his face with his hands and seemed to be sobbing to himself.

“I’m surprised you didn’t buy him Jamal or put him on one of the big national sales shows,” I mouthed staring mechanically at the boy as an angry bitterness welled up, the memory of Ben’s prick of a face looking at me across that board room table once again like it was yesterday.

“Oh, he would fetch a bundle, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t mind teaching that one how to suck cock and take it up the ass. He’s a real lady’s man or so he thinks. He was caught once sucking cock, but said he didn’t like it and the technician said that if he was any tighter back there, he could never shit properly,” Jamal chucked quite loudly.

I could tell the slave heard. He started to sob even more loudly. Either Ben had raised a wuss or he was indeed feeling the severe loss of his freedom to control his life’s destiny, I’m sure my presence was a real topper for his father’s little fallen angel.

Ryan’s judicial sentence was very severe indeed. Ryan Farmer, now contract number 4053 was to be enslaved for a minimum of ten years. Yes, he could be released from slavery then, but history had well shown that males under servitude for at least two years begin to lose their prior identity, a process that is fairly secure by five years and by ten, well, only a rare slave might successfully return to society in full freedom choosing rather to serve out their life’s years as a slave, a somewhat unexpected statistical fact.

“Are you giving me first crack?” I asked Jamal, expecting the price to be very extravagant.

“First, second, third. After what you told me about Ben Farmer’s business practices, I figure this one is sheer fate. All I need is to recover costs, make a little profit and he’s all yours Austin. You hear that slut?” Jamal yelled at him, “Your ass is going to belong to Mr. Miles here, the man that your father tried to screw a while back. Payback is a royal bitch, is it not?”

“Noooooo!” the slave howled and I wished to God that Ben was here to see the mayhem he had wrought. There was no more pretense or hesitation now. I wanted him, badly.

“Be quiet bitch! Gag him!” Jamal instructed the technician standing by.

I had noticed that in public many slaves were gagged to prevent unwanted conversation by those that considered slaves unworthy of speech or to punish them. There were many clever gags on the market that at a touch of a button would allow entrance of a penis for sexual pleasuring of several types.

I also noticed that Ryan was already collared and his genitals cuffed in very sleek brushed metal materials both gently glowing with electronics. I had heard about those and their ability to cause pain or pleasure, inhibit or enhance, quite the toy.

The gag in place, I followed Jamal inside. I had already made my mind up. I would sell the literal farm to get my hands on this pretty piece of meat for myself, the fruit of Ben’s loins.

“I would give a lot to see Ben’s face when he finds out who bought his son’s ass,” I wondered aloud and by then I was standing at the boy’s side, his eyes wide with fear, his mouth silenced by the newly placed gag.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you. A part of the kid’s punishment was cooperation from his father, that he would have to witness his judicially ordered public caning, ten strokes on two different occasions sixty days apart.”

I grinned, “I would love to be the one tanning his hide.”

“Just apply. They train you and you can punish your own slave in public, just the same as the court appointed officers.”

“You’re kidding!” I said, getting more excited and the slave’s face falling further.

“Oh, it’s better than that. Say the word and Ben will have to witness you sexing up his caned ass if it pleases you to do so afterwards.”

He was not wrong. That was better, much better! My hands now fondled the slave’s soft body, a body I was going to mold and shape. I fondled his cock and balls, squeezing his balls until he groaned hard into his gag and then I whispered in his ear.

“I hope you like pain boy. Or maybe I hope you never do. You are going to be spanked, whipped and used. You are going to serve me. You can fight it or learn to accept it. You’re father started this. I’m going to finish it. Blame him, not me.”

Chapter 2

I could have named my new boy anything; Rover, Spot or even a girl’s name. I chose the diminutive Mikie for no other reason than to symbolically keep the boy in his place no matter his age. Jamal personally trained me how to get full benefit from the electronics built into my slave’s collar and genital cuff. Mikie could be tracked via GPS both by the authorities and myself. The collar housed all medical information for use by any doctor or hospital. The cuff recorded all sexual responses including any attempt at self-abuse, no old-fashioned chastity device needed. If my slave abused himself without permission, I would know and his punishment would be swift and severe.

On the day that my purchase would be official and Mikie would go home with me, I had him dressed in a very thin almost see through garment that showed off Mikie’s hot ass. It was custom if not actually required for slaves in public to be seen as nearly naked short of skin.

If the slave needed spanking, it was fine to unflap the rear panel and spank him as long and as hard as needed in any public place. In fact, it was highly encouraged that slaves be taken to the public schools and spanked in front of groups of children to impress their minds as to the New Order’s consequences of law breaking. It was felt to be a significant effective deterrent.

The short ceremony audio was recorded for legal purposes, Mikie reading from a script on a small card.

“I, the former Ryan Farmer and now Mikie, property of my new Master, Mr. Austin Miles, do dedicate the next…” the slave hesitated, I was sure the reality of what he was saying brutally thrashing his mind.