Description: I can’t believe how far I’ve come in…what? Three years, I guess. Time doesn’t have much meaning when you are a slave in the Collective. It’s been a wild roller coaster ride. Some amazing highs, but there have been lows, too. I don’t want to get off the roller coaster, though. Not yet. After all, there is nothing I want to go back to. My father was a drill sergeant. Is, I guess. It feels like a past life. No, it is a past life. The problem was that he was a workaholic. He didn’t know how to be anything but a drill sergeant, at home, as well as work. To make matters worse, we lived on base. There was no getting away from it. In the army, rank is everything and drill sergeants are pretty low. Being his son, that put me pretty low on the totem pole, too. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I waited for spring to come. Stuffed everything I could into my backpack and left. I waited for a big truck to pull up to the back gate, slipped around the side of it and off into the dark. I timed it so that the bus came by less than five minutes later. In thirty minutes, I was in the city. With no fucking idea what I was going to do. I knew there was a gay youth homeless shelter. The problem was that their halfway house was full. They said to come by for dinner and a shower anytime and put me on the waiting list for a spot. What I didn’t count on was one last cold snap. Not cold enough to die, but cold enough to be damn miserable. It was night. I was sitting on the corner of an alley, far enough in to be out of the wind, not so far as to be alone in the dark. I didn’t want to think what my dad would do if he ever saw me again, but I was just about to give up. Maybe when the buses were running again in the morning, I should head back to the base. Then the car pulled up. Big, black, expensive. A voice called out, “Boy!” I instinctively cringed. But there was a hint of, not gentleness, but concern, at least. I looked over. “Get in.” What can I say? I’ve followed orders since I could walk. And I was cold… and hungry. I won't lie, there have been moments that I wondered if I made a mistake but, if I had to choose, I would get in that car again. I never dreamed where it would take me. A month later, I was a slave. Not like a real slave. A sex toy in a club, I guess you’d call it, called the Collective, where men richer than you could even imagine buy and sell young guys as fuckboys. Money means nothing here. My first master bought me for almost eight hundred thousand dollars, and sold me for nine hundred thousand because I was better trained. More money than my father would make in a decade. Just to keep me as a house pet. I’ve had three masters. They keep me for six months, a year. I’ve met boys who are kept longer, but never forever. Each one is different, but they dress me up, take me out, often to parties with the other masters they know. Sometimes I have to do chores, other times just be pretty. One, told people that I was his nephew. Another, an intern for his company. The third, just said I was his young lover. The one thing they have in common is that they paid a lot of money to fuck me. And they get their money’s worth. In between masters, there is an Appraisal. One thing about the Collective, they keep a close eye on the boys. I guess with guys pervy enough to buy and sell boys to fuck, things could get out of hand quick. When Master Reese decided to sell me, Master Aries and Master Scott were at my appraisal to check me out. Both of them fucked me. I was glad Master Scott bought me in the next auction. I like him better. He didn’t keep me, though. I guess Master Aries was waiting his turn because I’m his now. He won the auction and came on stage to claim me. I was on my knees, ass up. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even touch me before his face was between my cheeks and his tongue was in my hole, eating me like I was his last meal. Then he smacked my ass cheek. I’ve heard that he likes to play rough. I’m well-trained now. I can take it.
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