The long Journey: Chapter 9

On the first day of the final week the rota simply said that we should all line up in the courtyard; the subs naked, the Doms in shorts, trainers and white vests for an address by the Boss at 10.00h and that we should leave the dormitory particularly clean and tidy. “Well, boyos,” he started, “now you will have to earn your bread. You didn’t really think this camp cost so little to run? It is only because we have generous sponsors who make large donations we can exist at all. Today is an open day for all our sponsors and you must make it worthwhile for them. If they want something you jump to it. All six of you address all our sponsors as Sir, unless they instruct otherwise. Now subs, follow me.” He led us through a service door we hadn’t really paid attention to. Inside was a long room with three cages on either side, lit by small, tall windows and a fluorescent strip. “Enter the cage with your number on it. You’ll find a bowl with water in it to drink and another bowl if you should be taken short.” The cages were locked and we were left on our own. None of us were in adjacent cages.

After an interminable wait in came the Boss with one of the sponsors. “I think you’ll be well satisfied with this crop,” he was saying. “Take your time examining them. If you want to converse with one or examine his body just say and I’ll open the cage door for you.” “Number six,” the sponsor replied. Relief. He got number “6” to touch his toes, felt his buttocks and chest and had a low conversation I didn’t hear. He and the Boss locked up and left the room. We asked “6” what took place. “He wanted to know if I liked girls or just boys and whether I had been in service before.” Five minutes later the Boss returned and told “6” that the sponsor was renting him for two days in return for a generous donation to the camp. “Don’t let us down.” With that “6” was led away and we remained in silence.

Next it was my turn. I wasn’t even inspected. I was blindfolded and led into the courtyard where I was obliged to get into the boot of a car and my hands were cuffed behind my back before the lid was closed. We drove for a long time, perhaps two hours and then pulled off the road. The lid was opened and the driver informed me that we had some spare time before he had to deliver me to my short-term owner so he was going to have a bit of fun. I had to lean forwards while he put something behind me to prop me up. Then we waited. Suddenly something slapped me in the face. It turned out to be a semi-hard cock with a slightly fishy smell. Eat it, its owner snarled and I did as I was told. It was like chewing on rubber but eventually it got hard and then its owner moved off. This happened about half a dozen times with different shapes, sizes and smells. I was not at all aroused and my jaw was starting to ache before we continued on. Eventually the car squealed to a halt and a garage door was lifted open. Once inside I was liberated and stood to attention in the garage awaiting my owner. He came in and walked around me, inspecting me with two piercing dark eyes. “I’m pleased to see the camp hasn’t let me down. Your duties here are twofold,” he informed me. “First I’m having a posh dinner party with paying guests where you will wait at table. For that you’ll wear short white shorts, trainers, gloves and a bow tie if you can get it on around your collar. After that there will be a slave auction in which you will be the star attraction after a couple of eager local boys have been auctioned off. Now my butler will show you the table, the kitchen and your quarters where you must groom yourself to perfection. I’m assuming you know how to wait at table? At 20.00h you’ll report to the kitchen. Incidentally you must allow the guests to paw you and finger you as much as they like. If anyone tries to undress you however, you must immediately extricate yourself, go to the kitchen and compose yourself. You can talk to the chef freely but you have only two words for the guests – yes, and Sir. Understood?” I nodded. “Speak up!” “Yes Sir.” With that he disappeared. The butler collected me from the chauffeur and took me around, explaining the finer points of what was expected of me.

The guests, eighteen of them, were already in animated conversation at the table when I reported unseen to the kitchen. The chef was frantically busy so the wine waiter explained things to me. “Yours is a doddle,” he said, “it’s a fixed menu and guests help themselves to side dishes. I don’t need to tell you the finer points as you’ll have learned them at the camp – I did.” I raised my eyebrows in appreciation of the fact. “When you have finished serving, stand near the wall with your hands behind your back, ready to react when summoned by a guest. After clearing, you’ll have ten minutes to go up and refresh yourself for the auction.” I did get pawed; most of it kindly. I was pleased the bottom of the shorts fitted snugly around my thighs as at least one guest tried to put a hand up. The behaviour got more raucous and someone tried to trip me up. I wondered which guests would be bidding for me. Eventually the meal was over and cleared and I came back down refreshed and wearing only the shorts. The other two to be auctioned were similarly dressed and we had to stand around for fifteen minutes while the guests examined us, prodding and squeezing. Our host stood up and explained in a loud voice that each of us was for auction for a period of 24 hours. Cash in advance. Each bidder had signed a form agreeing not to subject us to any injury or bare-backing and they began with the least valuable of us. When it was my turn the bidding began at £500 and rapidly progressed. At the end there were two bidders vying for me – one was clearly a bit the worse for wear, the other quite sober, quiet and well-mannered. As luck would have it I fell to the former.