For young Zac, eighteen and a half, a month from being out on the street, with no prospects and little idea of what he wanted from life other than survival and modest comfort, it was literally almost like a dream. For a few moments when he woke up he thought it was a dream. It seemed so real, but so impossible. He pulled himself out of bed, trying to wake up after a late night on the streets hustling, or trying to. He had a day job to get to, and couldn’t be late.
Zac glanced down ...[Read more]
For young Zac, eighteen and a half, a month from being out on the street, with no prospects and little idea of what he wanted from life other than survival and modest comfort, it was literally almost like a dream. For a few moments when he woke up he thought it was a dream. It seemed so real, but so impossible. He pulled himself out of bed, trying to wake up after a late night on the streets hustling, or trying to. He had a day job to get to, and couldn’t be late.
Zac glanced down at the dresser as he stood in front of the mirror running his fingers through his tousled hair. There it was, the heavy engraved card with the crossed keys in gold gilt. The words of the imposing man who had given it to him echoed in his mind, “If you want a new life, and you are willing to do what you are told, come to this address. Tell no one, and don’t be late.”
Zac had remembered his friend's story and his hand had shaken as he took the card. Boys on the street spoke of a mysterious expensive black car whose chauffeur driven passenger occasionally chose boys who disappeared. If you want a new life…
“A new life,” Zac thought. Let’s start with any life. A week later Zac had been there. Standing in front of the mysterious steel door in the side of an anonymous building in a questionable part of town. The door had opened and his journey had begun. Each step had revealed a little more of the secret. Chosen boys were promised a life of comfort, even luxury, if they agreed to join the stable of young men owned by an auction house where boys were bought and sold as sex toys by an exclusive group of fabulously wealthy men who called themselves The Collective.
Zac was sold, as it were. He had always been meek, perhaps more than he should have been. Well behaved, his strict father would stand for nothing less. He had no strings or attachments, even his friendships were casual. Far better to be bought and sold by billionaires than rented for the night by random strangers.
Now, in what he was told was the last step before his first auction, Zac was here in a black room with a padded platform under a spotlight and the stern intimidating man who had handed him the card a month ago, who he now knew as Master Ballard. He was asked the questions that had almost become a ritual, since he first stepped through the door weeks ago, “Name? Age? Will you do all that is asked of you? Will you submit to your Masters?” Once again, Zac answered, "Yes.”
This time the man said, “Take off your clothes.” Zac stood there frozen. This was it. Somehow, Zac knew without being told, though he assumed not today, this was the auction block where he would be sold. The man asked again, and Zac obeyed. With a gesture from Master Ballard the boy crawled onto the block and presented himself, naked, for the man to use.
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