Leonard

Upstairs, Downstairs
at the Boyagio

Chapter 1

The Boyagio is one of the grand resorts of the Exotic Strip. Catering specifically to those with an appetite for boys, visitors will find hundreds of children available for rent by the hour or by the night; in keeping with the general elegance of the establishment, they are referred to as 'call boys'. Special arrangements are available for weekly rentals. The boys are exceptionally well-trained, versatile in sexual acts, foreplay, and role playing situations of all types. Those with darker desires can find them catered to in the East Wing.
Visitors should be prepared for continuous parties with very loose sexual mores; frequent nudity; and possible public sex acts. Expect to be constantly titillated in an environment designed to keep you permanently aroused and paying.

Rooms are luxurious and well-maintained. Penthouse suites are available. Additional amenities include a swimming pool, live theater (generally dancing and singing by resident boys), casino games, and much more on the expansive grounds covering several acres. Visit Johnny's Ale & Brew in the main complex for excellent steak sandwiches.

- Fodor's Travel Guide

Prologue

The 'Exotic Strip', as it was known, this whole neighborhood, was disgusting. Mark Yefron had never seen anything so debauched in his life. The Exotic Strip was filled with giant palaces, each a different kind of brothel. Strip shows, dances, and sex of all kinds to those who paid. Giant screens were filled with images of barely-clad men, women, and children in all kinds of poses. Grimy side streets were filled with the same, no doubt cheaper but less well-maintained. One side street seemed to have nothing but run-down buildings with giant billboards of young girls. Another seemed to involve lots of pictures of women with animals. He looked to his wife and to his children, and wished with all his might that they did not have to see this.

But they went on because they had to.

The place he was looking for was on the main strip, not a grungy side street. It was a palace, as elegant as anything else here. Mark saw the sign before anything else, a bright jumbotron with lights and huge cycling images:

The Boyagio
Paradise With Boys

Hotel - Theater - Dancing - Bar - Games - Role Play - Sports - Pool - Hot Tubs - Restaurants - Special Pleasures.

The Boyagio was a huge complex; while its front was here on the strip, it clearly stretched back for acres. The family stepped up into an opulent plaza. In the center was a large water fountain, glowing with colored lights shining from underneath the water. Around the fountain were statues of naked boys, all prepubescent, detailed with skin tone and muscle tone. Each was posed in some special way. Some were simply happy boys: one posed with his arms bent to flex his muscles; another with his arms splayed out joyously; another with a huge grin, his tongue stuck out at the other boys. One smiling stone boy seemed to be chiding the other, finger extended in a waggling motion. Some boys were more explicit: one with his arm around the next, snuggling close to his neighbor; two more kissing deeply, stone tongues intertwined, while the one next to them, seemingly jealous, looked away and stroked himself; one with his hand out, stroking the chest of the next boy over. One boy was kneeling, mouth open, tongue sticking out, looking with a blank expression at some hidden person towering overhead. Closer inspection revealed more and more sexual details: one with his hand casually around the next boy's dick and seemingly stroking it, one with a finger up the next child's ass, one that seemed to have cum sprayed on his cheeks.

As the family watched, water gaily shot forth from the statues' mouths and penises into the pool. The water sparkled and splashed in patterns: a pure blue stream would arc out from one boy's mouth, then a pink stream from another boy's dick, then on and on. Sometimes all the boys would 'pee' together, sometimes they would all 'spit' together, glowing flowers of water playing out in the center. Then it might start to alternate, drumming out perfect patterns of water hitting stone, or it might go in a loop, liquid shooting out of one dick, then the next, then the next in rapid succession around the circle.

And then there was the building itself. Giant columns, stone steps leading up to three heavy wooden double doors. At the base of the stairs were several flat-screen TVs that showed images of what went on inside. Boys dancing in unison. A boy sitting on a man's lap, throwing his head back against the man's chest. Two boys kissing deeply. A man slipping money into a boy's speedo. A man walking with a boy into a private hotel room.

"Let's go back," whispered Mark's wife. "Please."

Mark looked at his wife, Marta, and then at his two boys, Seth and David. They were staring open-mouthed at the screens. He hadn't told any of them how he'd heard of this place, of course. How, in a moment of weakness, he'd sought it out, discovered its existence. How he'd dreamed of coming here. He was ashamed, and regardless, he never did come, especially once his own children were born. Despite his many weaknesses, he'd never molested a child. Instead, alas, he'd turned to gambling.

"We have no choice," he said. "Wait here." And he ascended the steps and went through the doors.

***

It was a lavish interior, more opulent than anything Mark had ever seen. The lobby itself was huge. Towards the side was a large desk, and he went there.

"Checking in, sir?" said a small voice. Mark looked down. It was a boy, maybe eleven years old, standing behind the desk. Mark looked down the counter, and saw that it was staffed entirely by boys.

"Er," he said intelligently. He mentally collected himself. He would need to have everything together if this was going to work. "No," he said. "I'm looking for Mr. Johnston."

"Ah," said the boy. "Can I ask what you are here for?" His language was astonishingly precise and mature. Trained.

"Uh, a sale."

"Let me see if he is available." His young hands picked up the phone and started to dial.

Mark was glad for the chance to get his thoughts in order. He started to take in the lobby. Elevators leading to the hotel rooms. A giant map of the grounds. Signs for the bar, the theater, the game room, the show room, the restaurant. The whole place seemed to be staffed with boys. The lobby was mostly empty at this hour, although he saw a man in a suit come out of the elevators and walk towards the restaurant. A boy was walking across the lobby in the hotel uniform. But looking closer, Mark realized that the uniform was not typical at all. It looked like what a hotel attendant might wear, but it was skin-tight. Mark could see the definition around the boy's arms and belly, his shoulder blades, his butt 3; and even his genitals. Mark averted his gaze.

"Mr. Johnston is available to see you," said the boy, breaking Mark's reverie. "I can show you the way." He stepped out from behind the desk and Mark realized that this child was dressed in the same way, his penis clearly outlined through his tight pants. On his feet, the boy had on nothing but black socks. He started padding through the lobby to the elevators, and Mark followed, staring at his outlined legs and butt. The boy pressed an elevator button and it arrived. The two stepped in, and the boy swiped an employee badge, then hit the button marked "16". The elevator moved up.

Eventually they exited and Mark was taken to a secretary. "Billy," said his escort, "this man is here to see Mr. Johnston."

"Thanks," said the boy who was called Billy. "Your name, sir?" Mark could not help notice the subservient way the boy said 'sir'.

"Mark Yefron," he said.

"Very good, sir. If you'll have a seat."

Mark did. He sat there, waiting uncomfortably, watched over by the boys who were there. In the offices, he realized that most of the people working were adults. But almost everyone facing the outside world was a boy.

A big man wearing a suit came out of one of the corridors, then. "Are you Mr. Yefron?" he asked. Mark nodded. "Leon Johnston," said the man. "Come in to my office. What can I do for you?"

It was a corner office. There were floor-to-ceiling windows looking out to the courtyard and the whole of the Exotic Strip, a breathtaking view filled with neon and bright lights. "How can I help you?" asked the man.

Mark hesitated. He'd come all this way, and now 3; it had to be done, but 3; Mr. Johnston seemed to be waiting patiently, and so Mark closed his eyes, tried to regain his composure. Then he said, with less confidence than he'd hoped, "I'm here to make a sale."

Mr. Johnston nodded. "One of your slaves?" he asked.

"No," said Mark. "I mean, I don't 3; I don't keep 3;"

"I understand," said Leon Johnston. "Your son, then."

Mark nodded.

"Well, Mr. Yefron, I understand how hard this can be. Let us try to move through it as quickly as possible." He rifled through his desk to remove some pages. "How old is the boy?"

"Eleven," said Mark.

Mr. Yefron nodded. "You understand that a boy so old is worth less to us, I assume?"

"Yes," wheezed Mark, "but still something?"

"Yes," said Mr. Johnston. "Is the boy showing signs of puberty yet?"

"No," replied Mark.

"Mmm-hmm," said the man. "All right. I'd like to inspect him."

Mark nodded, and shivered. He was sure Mr. Johnston could see that. "He's outside," said Mark.

"I'll come down with you," said Mr. Johnston.

***

The two men arrived outside. Leon Johnston stayed at the top of the stairs while Mark descended to his family. "Oh, Mark," said his wife. "You changed your mind?"

Mark shook his head. "He wants to inspect him."

"Mark, please."

Mark shook his head again. "Seth," he said. "Come with me."

The boy, eyes downcast, came up the stairs and went inside with the men. As he walked up the stairs, his thoughts were dark with memories of his parents' fights over the past few weeks. A deep sense of doom eclipsed his mind. He still did not really understand what was supposed to happen to him, but they'd told him enough that he knew to be scared.

The big man, Mr. Johnston, took out a key and opened up one of the adjacent conference rooms. It was luxurious, with emerald green carpeting and emerald outlines on the wood paneling.

"All right," he said, once they had entered. "Seth, you are quite beautiful."

"Uh, thanks," said the boy, quietly.

Mr. Johnston continued to look him over appraisingly. "This is the heart of the business," he commented to Mark. "Can't leave this up to anyone else." He reached out his hands and held them on Seth's neck, feeling around the neck, then around his head. He grabbed the boy's hands, felt them. "Good. Soft hands, warm, moist," he said.

The man reached his hands up to Seth's face, putting his fingers on the side of his face. "Very good, boy," he said. "You didn't flinch at all." He reached in his thumbs to separate Seth's lips to see his teeth, then his thumbs started to feel along the bottom of the teeth.

"Mrph," exclaimed the boy. "Whaph are you doeing?"

"Mmm," said the man, ignoring the boy. "Strong teeth, but one of them is chipped."

"Seth fell off his bike a year back," replied Mark.

"Well," said Mr. Johnston, "we need to have that fixed. It won't do to have any sharp edges, not in there!" He laughed, and Mark blushed when he realized what the man was talking about.

"Take off your shirt," said Mr. Johnston. Seth paused a moment, and complied. Seth gasped as the cold hands touched his belly. Those hands were all over his torso, his chest, his arms. The massive fingers circled around his nipples and pinched them slightly, feeling them grow firmer. Mr. Johnston held Seth's arms up and looked under the armpits, and he let out another "hrm". He turned the boy around and felt along the boy's back, his hands prodding along. The boy flinched a few times but mostly held still.

"All right, pants off," said Mr. Johnston.

The boy hesitated. "Now, please," said the man shortly.

"Please, son," said his father.

The boy took off his pants, and those cold hands went all over his legs. "Good muscles," said the man. Then he reached up, grabbed the boy's underwear, and pushed it down.

"Hey!" said the boy.

"Shut up," said the man. He gave another "hrm" again, then went around to the boy's backside, held his butt cheeks apart. Finally he stood up.

"I'll tell you right now," said Mr. Johnston, "that the most I can offer for this one is about forty thousand. He's already starting to develop pubic hair, Mr. Yefron."

"Forty thousand? That's not enough," said Mark.

"Then the boy can put his clothes back on. I'm sorry, but this boy is simply not worth more. I could shave him for a while, but it will show. And besides, a two-year contract? Once he reaches fourteen he'd be free. That's the best I can do."

Mark sighed. "Isn't there anything else?"

Mr. Johnston looked thoughtful for a moment. "That other boy was what, seven?"

Mark's face went white. "He's not for sale."

"Well, of course I do not know your exact financial circumstances. However, I am unwilling to buy this boy for any more than what I have stated, and possibly less depending on how he performs. Your other boy, at seven, with some indication of how he might grow up 3; he could be worth as much as two hundred thousand dollars." The large man turned to Seth. "Go on, boy, put on your clothes." Seth, humiliated and naked, pulled his underwear up and started to pick up his other clothing.

"Two hundred thousand?" asked Mark. "How soon 3;"

"I could write the check out to you today. Or transfer the funds electronically." The man paused for a moment, then went on casually. "We can also help you with tax issues. If you treat the boy as an investment, then you can deduct costs of raising him over his lifetime. That includes food, any schooling, the cost of buying a larger house, toys and games, medical costs, maybe even an extra car if you can justify it. After we're done, the money will be practically tax-free." The man knew what he was doing; the talk of money dehumanized the whole process. "Tell me, Mr. Yefron, is the money sufficient for your needs?"

"It is," he replied.

"Then talk with your wife. Your boy would be released when he turns 14 as stipulated by law. I can assure you that most of our 3; alumni have comfortable lives after they are released. Some stay and work here as supervisors or in administrative roles. Others go into the 3; hospitality industry in other roles. Some find themselves supported by former lovers. Frequently, boys of the same age become close friends and stick together when they age out." He paused. "It is not what you wanted for your son. It would not be a pleasant time for him here, not at all. But the remainder of his life would be comfortable and normal. While here he would receive excellent medical care and he would have no financial worries."

Mark started to leave, Seth behind him. The man put a hand on Seth's shoulder. "I guess this life won't be yours," he said to the boy. "You should be happy." Seth nodded numbly, and the entourage left.

There was a shouting match in front of the resort complex then. Marta Yefron, tired, exhausted from the past months of financial scrambling, finally gave in when her husband said simply, "both boys will be sold to pay the debts if we don't do this, and we won't know where they end up."

Mark returned to the room with David in tow. The boy's knees were shaking so violently that they were knocking against each other as he stood in that room. Unlike his older brother, David hadn't been told anything of what was to come.

I have to be strong, thought David. He didn't understand what was happening. He knew that something was supposed to have happened to Seth. Seth had been scared. He'd been crying a lot, which he didn't do, because he was a big kid. The past few weeks, sometimes Seth had been extra nice, other times he'd been mean for no reason. But around his parents he'd always acted tough, saying that he wanted to do this, that he'd do it for the family, that he'd be a man.

David had heard only a little bit. He'd heard that Seth was going to be a slave. David knew about slaves. People who had to do work for other people. Who belonged to them. Seth had been going to be a slave to help the family.

But now David was here instead, and David had to do it. David had to be the man, to be like his older brother, to sacrifice for the family. I have to be strong, he thought again. I have to help daddy.

Again Mr. Johnston came up, again his cold hands felt the warm neck. He cupped the ears, opened the mouth and looked inside. Mark watched as the big man put a finger in David's mouth and told the boy to suck it like a lollipop. Mr. Johnston, his hand on the back of the boy's head, pushed, forcing the finger down the boy's throat as he started to gag. "Keep sucking!" said the man. Eventually he withdrew the wet finger and wiped it on the boy's clothes.

The father stood, watching, silently, head downcast. Praying, perhaps, although it was hard to tell.

"Take your clothes off, boy," said the man.

David shook his head. Was he supposed to do that?

"Mr. Yefron. Please tell your son to remove his clothes."

Mr. Yefron kept his head down, looking to the ground, at his feet. He seemed to come to a decision and he raised his head, tears coming down his cheeks. "Do it, Davey."

The boy looked shocked at his father. Then he shook his head. "I won't do it!"

Mr. Johnston slapped him. "You will, boy!" The boy's cheek was red from the slap. He started to cry, looking to his father. Mark turned away from his son, and Mr. Johnston walked over and yanked the shirt up over the crying boy's head. There was no resistance.

"Good arms, good hands," said the man, running his own hands along each of them. "Good amount of meat on them. Well-defined. Nothing bony, but not fatty either. Very nice stomach. Good definition, nice innie belly button, nice chest with strong definition as well. Soft, but firm, not flabby. Skintone is excellent, not pasty at all. Nice back, not too curved, clear shoulder blades, very nice indeed."

"All right, boy, shoes and socks now."

David removed them, and the man had the boy sit down. "Good, good. Nice toes, pleasantly long and with good big toenails. Excellent ankles. This will do nicely. Pants, boy."

David shook his head again. So again he was slapped. "You do it or I do it, boy."

David stared up for a moment at the huge man staring at him, and then he undid his belt and lowered his pants. He stepped out of them slowly. The man knelt, started running his hands across the legs. "This is an excellent child, Mr. Yefron. You might get the two hundred thousand after all." He grabbed the shaking knees one at a time. "Strong knees, not bony at all. Good thighs, strong and well-formed. Lower legs have great definition, slender and firm." Mr. Johnston pulled down the underwear.

David didn't understand why the man did that, why he wanted to look at those parts of his body. Maybe it was like a doctor, making sure he was strong enough to work when he was a slave?

He was being touched in places that only his parents had ever touched him before. It was a strange feeling when this man did it. He felt like less than he was before. These were places that were just his, that were private, this was his body, and instead the man touched him and looked at him and said weird things about him, judging him. It made him feel weird. It made him feel like he had no worth. Like he wasn't a person anymore.

"Yes, good. Good good good." He went around to the back, looked at the ass, held open the butt cheeks. "Very good. Mr. Yefron, you've raised a lovely child. I will offer you the full $200,000. It's very rare that I am so generous, but I always try to deal fairly with my clients."

The man nodded.

"Do you accept?"

David looked at his father. And his father turned away, and said, simply, "yes."

***

The paperwork was drawn up and a check was written. The boy simply waited in a reception area, sitting on a metal folding chair and playing on his phone. He didn't know what had happened, didn't understand much except that his father was sad. There were 3; so many other boys here, all dressed strangely, and they all seemed to avoid looking at him.

At some point the boy was taken outside to say goodbye to his mother and his brother. That was when he started crying. He'd tried to be brave, tried to hold it in, but his mother was crying, and Seth was crying, and he couldn't take it anymore. By now it was sunset, and the hotel was much busier. Many of the people passing by, almost all men, looked askance at the family scene. But then Mr. Johnston came outside, and he said that it was time to go.

David said, "No, I won't." He didn’t want to be strong anymore, he wanted to stay with his family, he didn’t like what had happened in there 3;

But Mr. Johnston simply picked the boy up and started heading up the stairs. His mother shouted, "no, stop!" He saw her rushing after him, but his father held her back, and then he was through the doors and they were gone.

Bidding for David

Mr. Johnston took David back to his office. He took his cell phone away. He said, simply, "The next few days will be very unpleasant. I'm sorry. You work for me now, and you'll do what I tell you to do. You will get training later, but for now, your services are needed elsewhere."

"Come with me," he said, and grabbed the boy's wrist. "We'll see how lucky you are tonight."

David was led into a restaurant, until they came up to an older, greying man having dinner. A small brunette boy was perched on his lap. The child seemed to be wearing an old-style school boy uniform, with short, grey trousers that went only a short way down his thighs; big grey socks coming up almost to the knees; a grey shirt, striped tie, and a striped blazer on top of it. The two were eating together happily and smiling, with the old man making airplane noises as he brought in the food to the boy's mouth.

"Arthur?" said Mr. Johnston. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt."

"No interruption," replied the old man, turning around with the boy still on his lap. "What is it, Leon?"

"We have a new arrival," said Mr. Johnston. "I wanted to come to you first, see if you were interested, before the usual circus."

"Oh," said the man called Arthur. "Oh my, you are a pretty one," he said to David. He and the schoolboy stood up, and then he gently sat the uniformed boy back on the chair. The boy stayed quiet, looking on politely. The child kept his back straight, although he fiddled anxiously with his tie.

Arthur reached out his dry, wrinkled old hand and stroked it gently across David's chin. David felt foreign flesh against his own once again that day, and he shivered. "Oh, dear," said Arthur to Mr. Johnston. "He's not used to this at all, is he?"

"No, he's as fresh as they come. That's why I'd hoped you might be his guide."

The old man shook his head. "It will be a rough first night for him." He paused, looking David in the eyes. Then he put both hands on the shaking boy's shoulders and intoned, "David, I am so sorry. I wish I could give you this week, I really do." He paused. "I hope you will forgive me, but I have business in Singapore and I simply must be there."

"Too bad," said Mr. Johnston. "The other guests, they haven't had a virgin in a while."

"I know," said Arthur. "It's a game to them, you know. They like to play, to see if they can break the child before your training. They're disgusting animals."

"You're sure you can't take him?"

"Always the businessman," smiled Arthur sadly. "Asking me to pay you money to save the boys in your care. You could save them yourself, you know."

"But that's not my business."

"Indeed."

The old man paused, then he reached out with his dry hands and settled them on the back of David's head, pulling it forward. He landed a big kiss on the forehead, then held him close. "Be strong, little man," he whispered to the boy. "This too shall pass. This too shall pass." Then he let go and went back to his seat, where the uniformed child slid smoothly out of the seat. Over the older man's head, the child mouthed "good luck" to David.

Arthur sat down, and then the boy climbed up on his lap, the old man positioning him just as he'd been before. He ran a hand down the boy's face, from the temple down to the chin, and the boy smiled happily. It seemed that the child wiggled his backside a little bit on the old man's lap, bringing a kind smile to the man's face. Soon they had resumed eating.

Mr. Johnston led David away, and once again the boy raced to keep up with the man pulling at his arm. They went through hallway after hallway. First they went through the main lobby, where Mr. Johnston pulled David up to the front desk. "Tell the regulars we have a new acquisition in the theater," he said. Then it was back to the hallways.

David was handed off to a photographer while Mr. Johnston left to attend to "other matters." The boy was posed again and again: standing, sitting, lying down. The photographer posed David sitting on the ground, knees pulled up, arms around his legs, looking up at the camera. The photographer posed David standing, casually lifting a portion of his shirt, revealing some skin. It took half an hour.

And then David was back on the metal folding chair, waiting.

He wondered what he'd have to do now that he was a slave. Would he have to do a lot of chores? Would he have to go to school a lot? David realized that he'd never figured out what Seth was going to actually do, and now he didn't know what he was going to do. Would he be allowed to play at all? Would he get to talk to his family? He hadn't thought about any of this 3;

Now David was all alone. No friends, no family. He sat there on the chair, with no idea what was going to happen next.

Mr. Johnston finally returned, and then it was back downstairs to the lobby. David was astonished to see himself on the television screens throughout the building, the photo of him with his knees up, staring up at the camera, looking vulnerable, and the photo with a bit of skin showing:

Hot! New!
David, Virgin Boy
Completely inexperienced
Auction at 8pm
Theater

The man took David outside into the twilight. The hotel complex encircled a large swimming pool, which was well-lit and seemed to have several people still swimming or relaxing on chairs. David looked to his side and saw a man on a beach chair with a boy in nothing but a speedo lying on top of him – no, draped over him would be a better description. The man's arm encircled the boy's shoulders, his hand laid into the small of the boy's back. David looked closer, and realized that the two were kissing.

Mr. Johnston pulled harder on his arm and David was forced to follow.

They got to a brightly-lit entrance that read "Theater" with glowing lights and neon outlines of boys in the middle of dancing. It was into the theater that Mr. Johnston took the boy.

The room was dimly lit with purple and orange lights, except for the large raised stage in the front which had bright lighting. Circular tables were spread throughout, filled largely by men, many of whom seemed to have their hands at their privates. Those who didn't were clapping along to the beat. Waiters, boys in skin-tight uniforms, were serving drinks and food and taking orders.

On stage, boys danced. They wore nothing but tight costumes around their crotches, and they moved their hips in mesmerizing patterns. There seemed to be one blond boy in the center doing most of the dancing, whom David would later learn was named Clint. The other boys were backup dancers. In unison, they curled their backs to arc their taut stomachs forward, then they turned abruptly and held their butts in the air, then they were all on the floor, legs sticking up, privates clearly outlined through the costumes. Clint had come out into the crowd, and seemed to be whispering into one man's ear 3; or maybe biting it? 3; and then the man stuck some money in his underwear, or whatever it was. Then Clint was on to another man, sitting in the man's lap and earning another tip, while, in unison, the backup dancers paired off and kissed on stage.

David stood rooted to the spot, stunned at what he saw. Those boys were like him. Clint looked like he was nine years old. He didn't understand what was happening.

And then it was over, and then Mr. Johnston was dragging him on to the stage.

"Good evening, gentlemen!" he shouted. A table of women replied, "and ladies!" "And ladies," he added. David was white as a sheet. He was on stage in front of all these strange and scary people. Everyone was looking at him, even the boys in the room, who had 3; expressions he couldn't make out. He realized that he was the only boy in the room with clothes.

"Are you having a good time?" asked Mr. Johnston.

The crowd roared approval. "Are you going to give us half off the boys?" shouted one.

"Come now, my good sir," said Mr. Johnston. "We don't do half off around here, when we have the best merchandise in town!" He laughed. "Speaking of, I am pleased to introduce our newest acquisition. His name is David." David felt the man pulling his arm up. The crowd clapped.

David looked out at the crowd of men. The hooting and the cheering echoed in his ears, and he felt his heart beating in his chest. His teeth chattered in fear, clacking together as he shook. His family was gone, he was all alone. But he had to be brave. He had to do this for daddy. What were they going to do to him? What was going to happen?

This wasn't what he'd expected. He thought he'd be cleaning or something. Why was he in front of all these people?

"Show us what's underneath!" someone shouted.

"That depends on the generosity of the crowd!" replied Mr. Johnston. "Come now. First, let's hear David's story." He knelt down at David's side and handed him a microphone. "David, tell us where you come from."

David stood there mutely. He felt the sweat trickle down his neck.

"Come on, David."

"Greensboro."

"What state?"

"North Carolina." He did have a southern twang to his voice.

"What do your parents do?"

"My dad works in, um, insurance. My mom does part-time office work."

"What grade were you in?"

David started to cry on stage, the tears flowing down his cheeks, his high-pitched sobs wafting through the room. "Answer the question, David," said Mr. Johnston.

"I-I just finished second," mumbled David between sobs.

"What did you like to do for fun?"

David was still sniffling, but he managed to say, "I played baseball. And video games. And I liked to draw, and play with my older brother."

"What was your favorite subject in school?

"S-social studies. And gym."

"David," said Mr. Johnston seriously, looking him in the face, "have you ever had sex before?"

There was silence while David sniffled into the microphone. And then he said, "what's that?"

The crowd erupted. There was clapping and even some cheers. "Show us his cock!" shouted one man. "Show us his ass!" shouted another. Several of the men were whistling, and a few seemed to pat their laps as if to invite David to sit in them.

"Now now," said Mr. Johnston. "Tell you what. The waiters are going to bring around some hats. Those hats find three hundred dollars in them, and the shirt comes off. Five hundred, and the pants go too. Eight hundred and you get the underwear, plus whoever gives the most gets to keep it. David won't be needing it anymore." More cheers. "A thousand," Mr. Johnston paused for effect, "and you can see the cherry itself. Know exactly what you'll be bidding for."

The other boys set out with hats. Meanwhile, Mr. Johnston turned to David. "Take off those shoes and socks, David," he said. "Those are free for the nice folks in the audience."

David looked out at the crowd with wide eyes, and up at Mr. Johnston. Finally he leaned down. He took off his shoes one at a time, and then his socks.

Mr. Johnston put his hands on David's shoulders and maneuvered the barefoot boy to stand next to him and in front of him. His hands went along David's shoulders, ruffled his hair, felt along his cheek. They were calculated maneuvers, of course, to rouse the desires of everyone in the debauched audience.

"We've got three hundred!" shouted a boy's voice, and some more cheers came out. "Shirt! Shirt! Shirt! Shirt!" the crowd started to chant as David stood in front of them.

Mr. Johnston leaned down and whispered in David's ear while the loud cheering went on. "Take it off."

David shook his head.

"Take it off, or I take it off for you," said the man.

Slowly David reached down. His fingers closed over his shirt, and he raised his arms and pulled it off over his head. It revealed his nicely-defined stomach and his small little nipples. The crowd was clapping and cheering. The boy sat there, shoulders rising with each heavy breath, shirt held tightly in one hand. Mr. Johnston grabbed the other arm and twirled the boy like a dancer, showing off his smooth back, his shoulder blades. With a tug on the boy's arm David was suddenly next to the man, facing him, and he felt the man's hand running over his back, showing the audience just how silky it was. Then the man raised David's two arms, showing off his armpits, turning the boy around in a circle.

"Boy is beautiful!" came someone's shout. "That skin as soft as it looks?" called another. "Come to my bed!" "Want some cock, boy?" "You're gonna get the fucking of your life tonight!" The shouts swirled around David, the crowd working itself up into a frenzy.

"We're at five hundred!" came one of the boy waiter's voices.

"You know what that means," said Mr. Johnston.

"Please no," came the boy's meek voice. "Please no."

Mr. Johnston stared at him, and the boy's head slumped. He limply dropped his shirt, then used his hands to undo his belt, and the button of his jeans, and his zipper. Down they went, revealing his briefs and his smooth, smooth legs.

There were more whistles. "Come sit in my lap, boy!" came a shout.

Mr. Johnston took his hands and encircled David's legs, slowly working their way down. "Like my silk pajamas," he said to the crowd. "But warmer."

There was laughter as the crowd watched the boy standing there in nothing but his underwear, crying again. "Please stop!" wailed David. "Please don't give him more money!"

Of course it was futile by then, and if it hadn't been, David's pleas for mercy sealed it. Soon they got to eight hundred and the underwear came off. "Who put in the most?" shouted Mr. Johnston. After one of the boys indicated someone, he just said, "Of course it was Jacob," and he threw the underwear across the room at the man.

Again Mr. Johnston twirled David by his arm, his cock and balls swinging around as he did so. He cupped the small balls. "Look what I have!" he said.

And then they crossed a thousand, and David was forced to grab his ankles, and he was turned around and Mr. Johnston grabbed his asscheeks and spread them wide, showing the tight virgin hole to everyone there.

Of course, David had taken off clothing for people before. He'd been naked in front of Seth and his parents. He'd started to shower on his own recently, but he still sometimes took baths with his parents around. And he'd taken off his clothing for the doctor before, too.

He thought this would be the same. Just take off his clothes in front of other people. But there were so many of them, and they were strangers, and they were looking at him. He felt alone and exposed and vulnerable.

Even though this young child didn't understand what the feeling meant, he still felt it. That his personal body was not really his own. That it was being used for these men and their pleasure. That who he was, what he thought, what he felt, all of it had become nothing, irrelevant, as his whole existence as a human being boiled down to people looking at his slender boy's body. No, David didn't understand it, but he felt it inside, something, some sense that he'd lost something about who he was.

"So," said Mr. Johnston. "Let's start the bidding for David's first hour ever with this fine establishment. Tonight and tonight only, anything goes so long as the marks disappear within a week and there are no permanent injuries. Who wants to start us off at five hundred dollars?"

"Five hundred!"

"A thousand!"

"Fifteen hundred!"

David stood there, naked and exposed, rough voices calling out ever higher numbers. He closed his eyes, trying to take himself from this place and these feelings. I have to be strong, he thought. I have to be strong for daddy.

It wasn't long before it was only the really wealthy in the room who were still bidding, those who could really pay for the privilege of a first time. The kind of people who fly in first class without thinking twice, or who have their own jets. But a first time? An eight-year old who knew nothing of sex? Even to those who dealt in boys, this was a delicacy.

The bidding ended at eleven thousand, five hundred dollars. David heard a click and felt cool leather around his neck. Mr. Johnston handed the leash to the winning bidder, a large man in jeans and a leather jacket. "Let's go," said the man's deep voice. He had an accent, maybe Australian.

"Wait, my clothes," said David.

The room broke out in laughter. The man pulled on the leash, and David fell over on the stage. More laughter. "Get up!" said the man in that deep baritone. "Get up or I'll pull you like this."

David scrambled to his feet, and was pulled out of the room. As he left, he heard Mr. Johnston announce, "all right, let's start the bidding on David's second hour."

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