errorYou must be logged in to review this story.
Auction
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,823
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,823
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
[//1]On the Auction block
Cold stone floor. Bare walls. No furniture except a single pole in the centre of the room. Heavy breathing. Heavy steps. Waiting.
This is the worst part, the waiting. The basement like a dungeon; the rough rope tying my hands behind me to the gleaming metal pole my chains, my bonds. Head hanging, hair falling into my eyes as they file in. I don’t want to see them. I don’t want them to see me. Maybe if I close my eyes and wish hard enough, they won’t see me this time. Maybe they’ll forget and go away. I feel twenty eyes on me, and I know that my wish didn’t come true tonight.
He sits in His throne at the front of the room, the only place to sit in the entire damp cold room. It is merely an old crate turned over to admit his large rump a place to rest while he lords over the men in the room, and over me. His eyes bore into me, burn into me as I hang there, limp.
He speaks.
“I will now start the bidding.\"
His voice is cold, low and distinctly British. I hear the shuffle around me, and I know that the men have found their places around the room. One, a newcomer, demands to see the product. He wants to know what he’s buying, he says. The voice is familiar, and as my head is shoved up and I am roughly pulled to my feet, I come face to face with my freshman year biology teacher.
“Nice, very nice...” he murmurs as he takes his place again and I am left alone in the middle of the room in all my glory, not a piece of clothing on my body.
I think that maybe this night, He will simply start the bidding so I can get it over with. I think that maybe he will not drag it out mercilessly. Maybe he will be kind to me, tonight…
But no, I see it in his eyes as I meet them for the first time. He will not have mercy tonight. He will not take pity on me just because I have school tomorrow. I am His, and I see that.
“Would you like to see what he is capable of?” The Voice asks and, at the low rumble of assent from the small crowd, he calls a single name. The name that makes me cringe in fear and shiver in anticipation at the same time. The name that strikes such a deep feeling in my heart that I am not aware at all whether it is pure hatred, or unabashed love, only that I know it is one of the two.
“Theodore.”
I sigh heavily, looking to the door. He comes in and my heart dances as my body reacts to the sight of him. My torture. My life. My Theodore.
He comes to me, and the crowd is gone, He is gone, everything is gone save me and him and the pole. Music floats from the clouds and he whispers to me that he wants me to dance. He wants to see me dance because he loves it so and won’t I love to make him happy. I nod because yes… yes I would love to make Theodore happy. Anything to make Theodore happy.
Body in time with the music. It doesn’t matter I’ve no clothing, it doesn’t matter that he has no clothing. All that matters is the music and the movement of our bodies. So close together… so beautiful. I know we are beautiful together because our gasps come in unison and our bodies writhe in synch.
And suddenly, suddenly I am again on my knees, the stone biting into my flesh. A sharp noise from me as I come crashing to reality. We are not angels and we, the damned, are not in heaven. I am, most certainly, in hell and this, my fellow demon, is only here to help torture me.
I hear how wonderful we are in the sighs and sharp sounds of the men around us, the shifting bodies, the stiffening members. I can hear them throbbing, wanting, needing this.
Dutifully I take him into my mouth. Oh, the familiarity of it all. The warmth, the taste, the memorized vein, every little thing that I do that makes Theodore happy. Anything to make Theodore happy.
It doesn’t take long. I am talented, they say, and Theodore knows that I want this over. He knows how tired I am. He knows that I have Math homework to do and that if I don’t pass my test tomorrow I will fail.
Swallow. Not a drop spilled. Good boy. Get a cookie.
Theodore is taken away and I once again resume my prostrate position on my knees, my arms angled behind me, my hair hiding me from their prying eyes.
“Let the bidding commence”
50. 100. 200. I lose count. He will be happy with my work if all goes well. He will be pleased with me. He may let Theodore stay with me tonight. He knows how I do not sleep unless I can have someone with me. He knows how I am. Maybe he will let me sleep tonight…
Yanked up once again, I look up into my new lover’s eyes. I am his, for the moment.
I go with him to the room set aside for this purpose as the other men file out, one paying Him highly for Theodore, though it was supposed to be Theodore’s night off. He doesn’t care. We are only money to him.
As I walk through the door with my old biology teacher, I look over my shoulder. My father, on his throne, looks at me and nods.
I am a good son.
This is the worst part, the waiting. The basement like a dungeon; the rough rope tying my hands behind me to the gleaming metal pole my chains, my bonds. Head hanging, hair falling into my eyes as they file in. I don’t want to see them. I don’t want them to see me. Maybe if I close my eyes and wish hard enough, they won’t see me this time. Maybe they’ll forget and go away. I feel twenty eyes on me, and I know that my wish didn’t come true tonight.
He sits in His throne at the front of the room, the only place to sit in the entire damp cold room. It is merely an old crate turned over to admit his large rump a place to rest while he lords over the men in the room, and over me. His eyes bore into me, burn into me as I hang there, limp.
He speaks.
“I will now start the bidding.\"
His voice is cold, low and distinctly British. I hear the shuffle around me, and I know that the men have found their places around the room. One, a newcomer, demands to see the product. He wants to know what he’s buying, he says. The voice is familiar, and as my head is shoved up and I am roughly pulled to my feet, I come face to face with my freshman year biology teacher.
“Nice, very nice...” he murmurs as he takes his place again and I am left alone in the middle of the room in all my glory, not a piece of clothing on my body.
I think that maybe this night, He will simply start the bidding so I can get it over with. I think that maybe he will not drag it out mercilessly. Maybe he will be kind to me, tonight…
But no, I see it in his eyes as I meet them for the first time. He will not have mercy tonight. He will not take pity on me just because I have school tomorrow. I am His, and I see that.
“Would you like to see what he is capable of?” The Voice asks and, at the low rumble of assent from the small crowd, he calls a single name. The name that makes me cringe in fear and shiver in anticipation at the same time. The name that strikes such a deep feeling in my heart that I am not aware at all whether it is pure hatred, or unabashed love, only that I know it is one of the two.
“Theodore.”
I sigh heavily, looking to the door. He comes in and my heart dances as my body reacts to the sight of him. My torture. My life. My Theodore.
He comes to me, and the crowd is gone, He is gone, everything is gone save me and him and the pole. Music floats from the clouds and he whispers to me that he wants me to dance. He wants to see me dance because he loves it so and won’t I love to make him happy. I nod because yes… yes I would love to make Theodore happy. Anything to make Theodore happy.
Body in time with the music. It doesn’t matter I’ve no clothing, it doesn’t matter that he has no clothing. All that matters is the music and the movement of our bodies. So close together… so beautiful. I know we are beautiful together because our gasps come in unison and our bodies writhe in synch.
And suddenly, suddenly I am again on my knees, the stone biting into my flesh. A sharp noise from me as I come crashing to reality. We are not angels and we, the damned, are not in heaven. I am, most certainly, in hell and this, my fellow demon, is only here to help torture me.
I hear how wonderful we are in the sighs and sharp sounds of the men around us, the shifting bodies, the stiffening members. I can hear them throbbing, wanting, needing this.
Dutifully I take him into my mouth. Oh, the familiarity of it all. The warmth, the taste, the memorized vein, every little thing that I do that makes Theodore happy. Anything to make Theodore happy.
It doesn’t take long. I am talented, they say, and Theodore knows that I want this over. He knows how tired I am. He knows that I have Math homework to do and that if I don’t pass my test tomorrow I will fail.
Swallow. Not a drop spilled. Good boy. Get a cookie.
Theodore is taken away and I once again resume my prostrate position on my knees, my arms angled behind me, my hair hiding me from their prying eyes.
“Let the bidding commence”
50. 100. 200. I lose count. He will be happy with my work if all goes well. He will be pleased with me. He may let Theodore stay with me tonight. He knows how I do not sleep unless I can have someone with me. He knows how I am. Maybe he will let me sleep tonight…
Yanked up once again, I look up into my new lover’s eyes. I am his, for the moment.
I go with him to the room set aside for this purpose as the other men file out, one paying Him highly for Theodore, though it was supposed to be Theodore’s night off. He doesn’t care. We are only money to him.
As I walk through the door with my old biology teacher, I look over my shoulder. My father, on his throne, looks at me and nods.
I am a good son.