The Appraisal | THE BOY DYLAN | Chapter 2

I’m not a virgin by any means, but I’m not a slut, either. When I learned about The Collective and the chance to be auctioned off, I was intrigued, but I had never done anything like that before. I went on the apps, found a leather master, and set up a date just to see what it was all about. He knew I was inexperienced and agreed to take it easy on me. Playing with him was definitely not bad. Kind of fun, actually.

When I got to my first session with The Collective, Master Saint was actually easier on me than the Master I met online, although he told me that my life in The Collective would be much different than that. He explained, since I had family, I would need to basically disappear, but that they had ways to help make that possible without raising too much suspicion. They can’t have kidnapping investigations after all, although, I had the impression even that could be dealt with.

I told Master Saint that it probably wouldn’t be a problem. I gave myself a day to think about it. I knew my parents were ready to get rid of me. The next evening, I went into the living room, where they were both already half drunk, and told them that a friend had offered me a job opportunity in a city in the next state. My mother, well into her third glass of gin, sat up, tried to clear her head, mumbled something, and slumped back on the sofa. My father, without looking away from the TV, took a swig of beer and said, “Sounds good. When are you leaving?” I said in a few days and went back upstairs to text Master Saint.

A few days later, I was waiting on a street corner a few blocks from my house with a duffle bag. A black town car pulled up and I climbed in the back seat. We drove across town to the same anonymous warehouse building I had been to before. The driver pulled up in front of a door and said, “Ring the bell and do what you are told.” I got out of the car and he drove away.

When I pressed the button I heard a buzzing sound and the click of the door unlocking. Stepping inside, I was in a dark hallway. As the door closed behind me, a red light came on above a door about halfway down the hall. I walked down, opened the door, and stepped into an expensive looking room that was an almost surreal contrast to the rough hallway. The walls and carpet were a dark flannel gray. There was a sort of modern sofa and chair in black leather, and a chrome and glass cocktail table, but nothing else. The soft light came from small bulbs recessed in the ceiling.

On the table there was a very small pile of what I assumed was something for me to wear, along with a piece of paper. The paper was a note instructing me to strip down, fold my clothes neatly, and put them on the chair. Then I was to put on the jockstrap, bow tie, and black socks provided, and use the strip of red fabric to blindfold myself. After I was ready, I was to kneel on the floor in the middle of the room and wait.

The clothes didn’t surprise me. The blindfold did. That was intimidating to say the least, but I assumed it was some kind of test of trust. Honestly, at this point, they could pretty much do what they wanted to me. They said this was voluntary, but I wasn’t sure how much that really meant. I prepared myself, knelt down as instructed, and tied the scarf over my eyes.

It seemed like forever before I heard the door open and someone walk in. When he bent down to check that my eyes were covered, I realized that it was Master Saint. I could smell the faint scent of the expensive cologne he was wearing when I met him. That was something of a relief. I still had no idea what was happening and I really had no reason to trust Master Saint, but that small bit of familiarity was something to cling to.

Master Saint helped me stand and took me down several halls and eventually through a door into a room that was comfortably warm. I was guided to step up onto some kind of box, or platform. The chill bumps on my skin had begun to fade, and I was almost beginning to relax. Master Saint said, “Why are you here?”

I wasn’t sure what to say, but I answered, “To obey, Sir.”

He was pleased with that and said, “Let’s begin.”

The chill bumps rose back up as I felt at least two pairs of hands touching my body. For what seemed like forever, but might have only been ten minutes or so, I was poked and prodded. Every part of my body was inspected and measured. I could hear what sounded like the soft click of a camera, as well. It was a strange experience but, as I became comfortable with it, I started to enjoy the men's hands stroking me and their soft grunts of approval.

I didn’t even realize that I was hard until one of them reached out, grabbed my cock, and said, "I think he likes this!” They took turns groping me until I was fully hard and dripping, then they took measurements of my cock like they had the rest of my body. Finally, the blind fold was removed so that they could see my face and take pictures.

I looked around, trying to focus my eyes in the suddenly bright light. There were two other men in addition to Master Saint. Both of them, like Master Saint, were stern, but very handsome, older men in expensive suits. I was ordered onto my knees. Master Saint unzipped his fly and presented me with his cock to suck. All of them seemed pleased with my performance and the other two took turns using my mouth, as well.

Then I was placed on my knees back on the box that I had been standing on. One of the men began teasing my hole with his fingers, and soon he was probing them deep into my ass. He got down on his knees to eat me out. Apparently, he was pleased with what I had to offer because he stood up and thrust his cock into my guts. Master Saint and the other man kept my mouth gagged with their cocks while I was roughly fucked.

The men talked to each other, egging each other on to fuck me harder, like I wasn’t even there. I was nothing to them, except a warm hole to service their cocks and dump their cum into. After the first man filled my ass, they all took a moment to enjoy the sight of his cum dripping out of my abused hole, and another one stepped up to take his turn. They neither knew, nor cared, how close I came to soiling the black satin jockstrap that I wore with my own load. If I had, though, they would have probably just laughed and congratulated each other for fucking the cum out of their fucktoy’s balls.