Shawn Hunter

The Chronicles of
Thomas Connors

And a Life of Crime

Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood, we find a
delightful creature called a boy. Boys come in assorted sizes, weights and
colors, but all boys have the same creed: to enjoy every second of every
minute of every hour of every day and to protest with noise (their only
weapon) when their last minute is finished and the adult males pack them off
to bed at night.

Boys are found everywhere – on top of, underneath, inside of, climbing on,
swinging from, running around or jumping to. Mothers love them, little girls
ignore them, older sisters and brothers tolerate them, adults ignore them, and
Heaven protects them.
A boy is Truth with dirt on his face. Beauty with a cut on its finger,
Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair and Hope of the future with a frog in its
pocket.
When you are busy a boy is an inconsiderate, bothersome, intruding jangle of
noise. When you want him to make an impression, his brain turns to jelly or
else he becomes a savage, sadistic, jungle creature bent on destroying the
world and himself with it.
A boy is a composite – he has the appetite of a horse, the digestion of a
sword swallower, the energy of a pocket-size atomic bomb, the curiosity of a
cat, the lungs of a dictator, the imagination of a Paul Bunyan, the shyness
of a violet, the audacity of a steel trap, the enthusiasm of a fire cracker,
and when he makes something he has five thumbs on each hand.

He likes ice cream, knives, saws, Christmas, comic books, the boy across the
street, woods, water (in its natural habitat), large animals, Dads, trains,
Saturday mornings and fire engines.
He is not much for Sunday school, company, school, books without pictures,
music lessons, neckties, barbers, girls, overcoats, adults, or bedtime.
None else is so early to rise or so late to supper. Nobody else gets so much
fun out of trees, dogs and breezes. Nobody else can cram in one pocket-a
rusty knife, a half eaten apple, three feet of string, an empty Bull Durham
sack, two gum drops, six cents, a sling shot, a chunk of unknown substance and
a genuine supersonic ring with a secret compartment.
A boy is a magical creature – you can lock him out of your kitchen, but you
can't lock him out of your heart. You can get him out of your study, but not
out of your mind.

Might as well give up – he is your captor, your jailer, your boss and your
master. A freckled-faced, pint-sized, cat-chasing bundle of noise.

When you come home at night with only the shattered pieces of your hopes and
dreams – he can mend them all like new with the two magic words – -Hi DAD!

Tuesday, October 21st, 2005 – 4.15 PM | A Mysterious Call

In my entire life, nothing has ever bothered or annoyed me as much as the sound of a cell-phone or an alarm clock ringing. For some reason, these two necessities of modern life rattle my cage and push me an inch further to insanity. After eight nerve-breaking sirens, I finally found where I had left the pestering device and answered while grasping for air.

• – Hello?
• – Is this Thomas Connors?
• – Yes, who am I speaking to? A minute passed without a reply, prompting me to add, Fine pal, I'm hanging up in three seconds if you won't identify yourself.
• – Are you still in the business 3;? Mr. Thomas? a faint, almost inaudible voice replies.
• – Depends on who I am talking to and what kind of business you think I might be in 3;
• – I'm pretty sure you're well aware of my intentions Mr. Thomas.
• – Then you must be mistaken.
• – Oh ok then, in such case, I'll have to call someone else who can provide exotic pets, sorry to disturb you, bye.
• – HEY WAIT! Who the hell gave you my number and who the FUCK are you?

Another period of heavy silence kicked in with the mysterious man's heavy voice being the only sound transmitted to my ear. Stuttering incomprehensibly for a few times, he finally managed to gather enough courage to overcome the danger of using the word 'exotic pet' and then added.

• – If you're interested, swing by my office tomorrow morning at 10.00 AM, Central District, Corpo Imports Co, when asked; say you have a meeting with Mr. Cornelli. Wear a tie, gussy up and we'll talk. That's all the info I can give you for now. Before I could utter another word, the mysterious man hung up and left me to process what just happened.

In my line of business, even the slightest mistake could result in life behind bars. Therefore, meeting with an anonymous man with no references, credentials or even prior acquaintance is more of a suicide mission rather than a business meeting. On any other day or under any other circumstances, my reaction would've been an instant and complete refusal. Nevertheless, my life was at that point going through a huge metamorphosis, cash was short and cash was very much needed. Over the course of the entire year, I've been slowly but steadily sinking lower and lower in a financial chaos, caused my so many events happening at the same time.

Several months ago, I invested all of my money in a large mansion on the outskirts of town, which I bought in cash and am still in the process of remodeling it to fit my unique lifestyle, as well as accommodate a large number of my 'business partners'. Little did I know however, that a few months after this venture, a car accident which would claim the life of my last family member left, my father; would also add a tremendous strain on my wallet caused by his hefty debt being automatically switched to me, his only child. To make things even worse, my monetary wellbeing took another sever hit caused by a nation-wide 'crackdown' on the type of goods which I supplied. In short, my financial stability was at stake, I needed new customers and I needed cash.

Hesitantly, I got up and fixed myself a cup of coffee, sat in the still unfinished living room and began to wrestle with the thoughts bouncing in my mind.

At the age of 47, I am well aware that I'm not getting any younger, that my agility and vigilance are declining by the minute, that some time, probably soon, I have to stop this risky business, with all the traveling, snatching, smuggling and everything that lies in between and 'retire' to a more comfortable, stable, low-paced lifestyle. I am also aware that my self-chosen extravagant lifestyle needs constant income, I have large credits to pay, I need a constant flow of medical drugs to be supplied and most of all, I have my own, private 'stable' which is chewing down a considerable chunk, if not most of my 'profits'.

If I decline this deal, I should be able to make ends meet for the next couple of months at best, and wait for a more 'reliable' customer. I could also stop, or at least cut down on my drug consumption which would give me another month to breath. An even more drastic measure means that I have to 'release' a few of my 'pets', thus reducing the cost to maintain my stable, an option which is 3; very hard to swallow.

No no no, I need cash, I need my pets, all of my pets, I need drugs, lots of drugs, I need my plasma TV, my private pool, my private playroom, my extravagant, private lifestyle. Most of all, I need this mysterious Mr. Cornelli in and the repo man out 3;

The battle raged on in my head for a good half hour until my greed overcame my cautiousness; my mind is set, I won't decline this opportunity no matter how risky it seems. With that, I took the last sip from my cup of coffee, added a new entry to a pocket e-diary which I carry in my pocket and went down to my playroom for some fun 3;

Wednesday, October 22nd, 2005 – 8.15 AM | Wear a Suit

'Alarm clock wailing, the most annoying sound in the world'

Forty-seven years and I still can't stand this fucking sound, I thought to myself as I struggled my aging body out of bed, bushed but fulfilled by last night's 'activities'. It's a big day I reckoned as I casually browsed through my closet for my official, 'business attire'.

A black 'Men-In-Black' kind of suit, complete with a knee length trench-coat, a pair of black sunglasses, a loaded 9mm gun and my ticket to passing through any metal detectors, an authentic-but-fake FBI badge. In my 22 years as a supplier of 'exotic Pets', I have seldom found myself in awkward, risky and even dangerous situations. I've traveled the globe back and forth, smuggled through international borders, infiltrated war zones and dealt with every type of cons, low-lives and downright scumbags. However, even with all this background and know-how, I was still feeling a bit awry from this particular phone call.

Wednesday, October 22nd, 2005 – 9.50 AM | Corpo Imports Co.

• – Hello, I'm here to see Mr. Cornelli.
• – Very well sir, do you have an appointment?
• – Yes, Tom Connors.
• – Okay, have a seat please, it'll take a moment.

Feeling uncomfortable and insecure about the whole charade, I took a seat in the waiting hall, all the while keeping a hawk-eye on the middle aged, blonde receptionist with probably too much makeup who had already called Cornelli informing him of my arrival. A few moments later, she gave me directions to the man's office and with a warm and professional smile, wished me a good day.

Nervous, hesitant and almost sweaty, I knocked on the door, thinking to myself that behind it, an entire squad of policemen could be waiting for me, or that I'm going straight into a wire-tapped room, with hidden microphones and cameras and all that shit, and that I'll be hunted down the minute I make the deal, it happened before and might happen again.

Please come in. Cornelli's voice finally broke my train of thoughts as I made my way inside a wide, elegant and well decorated office. The mid 50'ish old man behind the desk was nothing less than a perfect stereotype of Corporate America's captains-of-industry.

On a first glance, Cornelli bore all the characteristics of a charismatic individual, A set of neatly combed grayish hair crowned the man's somewhat jolly, pinkish face, a pair of sunken yet sharp ice blue eyes, a warm, confident, reassuring smile and a short, neatly maintained lumberjack beard. In addition to the man's elegant features, well except the fact that he was rather fat and had a pretty sizeable Beer-Belly, a Signé black suit wrapping him up nicely, a golden ring and a box of Cuban Cigars sitting at one edge of the desk, all helped to emphasize the man's success and wealth.

• – Forgive me for being abrupt on the phone yesterday Mr. Tom, please have a seat.
• – I believe there's no need to introduce myself since it seems as if you already know who I am, I stuttered, unable to hide the slight tone of nervousness in my voice.
• – Oh I do, you've been highly recommended to me by someone you've already done business with.
• – May I ask who then?
• – I'm afraid not Mr. Tom, I do not publicize my relations, especially those that lie at the heart of my inner-circle and quite frankly, I see no reason why you should know.
• – I need to know because this meeting actually goes against all the guidelines that I've drawn to myself Mr. Cornelli, I do not do business with strangers.
• – Mr. Tom 3; I understand your anxiousness, and if I were to be in your shoes, I'd be similarly anxious as well. Now I'm perfectly aware that trust does not exist in your 'domain' however, I'm asking you to allow for this exception, and believe me, you'll be well rewarded as well as recommended to another couple of people I just happen to know and who would be extremely interested in doing business with you.

Cornelli clearly knew his way around negotiations, his calm and steady, almost soothing voice somehow radiated confidence, and his subtle hinting at 'more business' had subliminally fuelled my greed and hunger for cash. For the next couple of moments, I pondered while contemplating my conversationalist's face, whether or not I should go on, until my avarice kicked in.

• – So what exactly are we looking for here? I said, finally breaking the silence.
• – A 10 year old 3; Cornelli's smile said it all 3; He knew he had me at that instant.
• – A 10 year old? That's it?
• – Of course that's not IT! asserted Cornelli, almost chafed. I may not be as demanding as some of your other customers but, mind you, I am a potential buyer and I definitely have something in mind 3; Have patience, my friend.
• – Sorry, Go on then.
• – Let me clarify one thing first. To me, quality precedes price. So, there will be no fixed figure in this deal.
• – Now that's highly unorthodox 3; Sorry but 3;
• – Please, let me continue! God, you're such an impatient man for such a delicate 'career'.
• – Well I'm not exactly comfortable here; we've already established that 3; anyhow 3;
• – First of all, I wouldn't mind paying for a boy or a girl as long as they're not older than ten; however I will pay significantly more for a boy.
• – Fair enough.
• – Second of all, I will only accept blonde, preferably dirty blonde hair, Green eyes and a max height of 4"6' [1.37 m].
• – Noted.
• – That's the easy part, the distinguishable, standard detail. Next, comes quality.
• – Which is?
• – This will be left to your better judgment. Which means, the better looking a child is, the more money will find its way into your pockets.
• – Okay, but beauty is in the eyes of the beholder Mr. Cornelli 3; you and I may not share the same taste 3;
• – True, but depending on your expertise and the very kind words I've heard about you regarding this business, I'm willing to put my faith in you. I'm not very specific; I just need a good looking boy or girl to fill my bed at night. For instance however, I'm pretty sure you understand that a soft, flawless skin is much more appealing than zits, marks and so on 3; a so-called 'bubble but' is much more desirable than a flat-assed kid 3; and so on.
• – True.
• – And finally, I need him or her to be fully trained for obedience as well as for sexual performance.
• – I believe I know what you're looking for, but what about the penis, in case I can supply you with a boy, any preferences regarding circumcision, or the size and shape of it?
• – Whatever you believe is best would probably be good for me 3; You see Mr. Tom, I'm a very busy man, I have a large company to run, I have countless meetings, business lunches and so many other things that need to be looked after every day. I neither have the time, nor will to train my pets, that's why your expertise is very important to me.
• – So I understand that you're not particularly seeking a virgin.
• – No, not at all 3; Basically, what I'm looking for is a tight, yet easily accessible ass to ride whenever I want, wherever I want and however I want. I need an obedient child who would not complain or refuse any of my commands, who would do what I order him or her to do and who would fully comply to any and all of my whims.
• – That can be arranged.
• – Good.
• – Would you mind if I suggest something?
• – Please, go ahead 3;
• – I have already been referred to you, which means you know someone I've already done business with.
• – Yes.
• – Which implicates that you probably know the unique training my pets receive.
• – Yes, and that's precisely what I have in mind and what I'm looking for, the man said, his eyes almost shining, I knew I had him there, so I needed to play my cards well to insure a bloated bill and a maximum profit.
• – Good, but what you may not know, is that for a boy or a girl to be efficiently trained the way I deem fit, means that they should preferably be 'foreigners', in other words, they shouldn't understand a single word of English.
• – As long as they're well trained, I don't seem to find a problem here.
• – The problem is, a foreign child means that he has to be 'smuggled' from thousands of miles away, significantly increasing the risk, thus adding a couple of figures to your bill. Not only that, training takes time and effort from my part and a perfect training, means a higher quality pet, which also means another couple of figures added on the final price.
• – Nothing I don't agree with so far.
• – Great, here's what I'm going to do, I happen to know a man who runs a 'Soviet-era' orphanage in Eastern Europe, and who's willing to provide a child for the right price. If, and when I acquire something that fits your specifications and my criteria for quality, I will smuggle it here. When that is done, you will receive a call from me.
• – Perfect.
• – However, there's a couple of obstacles.
• – Such as?
• – Mr. Cornelli 3; I may be an asshole, but I'm definitely not an ass, I will not move an inch before I receive a down payment.
• – Oh now that's 3;.
• – It's my time to talk, Mr. Cornelli 3; Patience is a virtue, right?
• – Reverse tactics, he said with a smile. Please go on.
• – The only way I could strike a deal with you is when we agree upon a 'base price'. This will include, travel, transportation and at least a fraction of the child's final price.
• – What's on your mind exactly?
• – You know, exotic pets don't come cheap 3; I said, unable to control my triumphant grin. So, what I'm asking for is a pre-payment of 15,000$, this amount will insure you will get to see and inspect the boy I've provided. In case you like what you see, then we can discuss the training cost and the final price. If not, well 3; you can have the boy, non-trained and without any extra fee. How does this sound to you?
• – It seems to me you've already decided on providing me with a boy, smiling and almost whispering, Cornelli said.
• – I aim to please.
• – Mr. Tom 3; I think that 3; we have a deal.
• – I'm glad you agree.
• – Now then, let me write you a check for the amount you've asked for and here's my business card with my private number on it. Contact me ONLY when you're back in the U.S and the boy is in your possession.
• – Very well, expect a call from me by next Tuesday. Relieved and excited, I finally left the old man to his tedious, mundane work and went back home to prepare for my next 3; 'Hunting Trip'.

Thursday, October 23rd, 2005 – 11.20 AM | Wings to Fly

• – Luggage, check – Fake Passport, check – Visa, check – Fake 'Michael Adams' ID, check – Money, check.

With everything in place and my plane leaving in two hours, I had one last thing to do before leaving to Europe, taking care of my seven pets' survival needs. With that in mind, I reached for the well-hidden, concealed-behind-a-bookcase stable's entrance, went down and made sure that every food tray was stacked with enough dried food to last for a week, as well as supplying each of my precious pets with three bottles of water. Finally, and since the weather was a bit unpredictable and my pets were always naked, I raised the always-on central heating by a couple of degrees, insuring the room was nice and warm, locked the door behind me and was on my way to the airport.

Friday, October 24th, 2005 – 8.45 AM | Welcome to Romania

The trip to Romania took an arduous ten hours flight which ended when the plane finally touched down Bucharest's international airport. From there, it was another six hour trip via train and half-an-hour by car to Romania's farthest north-eastern province of Botosani, to a small hotel near the borders which separates Romania from the Ukraine and Moldova.

The artificial, invisible and vague borderline which demarcates the former Soviet states was all but guarded, with many well known 'holes' where weapon smuggling, drugs and human trafficking flourished. Even if, by any chance someone gets busted, the fee to freedom is a mere couple of Lei's paid courteously to the border guards.

These crucial facts, added to the extreme poverty of the general populace, violent crime, a history of social unrest, a high percentage of unwanted pregnancies and the lack of will to adopt, left the country with an overflow of unwanted children scattered into 'orphan-houses', which, curiously enough, resembled Soviet detention centers from the early 80's. Most houses were run by a very small number of individuals, some having no social workers at all, lacking funds for proper furnishings or taking care of the children welfare and usually under the direct and complete authority of a single headmaster who had utter control over everything that dwelled inside.

All of these factors turned Romania from the picturesque and beautiful country that it is, to an international hub of organized crime. Even more, Romania as well as both of its neighbor states, Moldova and Ukraine, gained a considerable underground reputation of being 'Woman and Child Markets' with clients ranging from good-hearted parents who couldn't adopt anywhere else and had to rely on buying a child, to human traffickers, child traders and even worse, human-organs 'suppliers'.

I, Tom Connors, fitted into the third category, as you may have already guessed. In short, I've been snatching, kidnapping, trafficking, smuggling, buying and selling children for the better part of my life and over the years, have accumulated a large database of contacts in almost every part of the world where 'acquiring' children, was rather easy.

Ever since the fall of the mighty Soviet Union, Romania had been my favorite destination for a wide variety of reasons, the prime of which is the vast ethnic diversity of the populace, subsequently, an array of available choices. In my experience, Romania offered everything from typical European-looking, light hair and skin children with Western facial features, and all the way to the exotic, black haired, bronze skinned Gypsies. Furthermore, This relatively 'Western' country is easily accessible, corrupt to the bones, paper-work virtually non-existent and most importantly, rampant bribery that went all the way up the social ladder, insuring a safe way out in case of trouble.

Years ago, I had managed to establish contact with the headmaster of Botosani's poorest and most ill-equipped boy-orphanage house, a not-so-sharp man in his late fifties who went by the name of Andrij Bogdanovich and who became my all time favorite business partner. As I think about it, I could never understand how and who in his right mind, would place such a sadistic man who seemed to put my own greed and malfeasance into shame, in a position of power over defenseless, helpless children. If you think I'm the living equivalent of toxic trash, Andrij was the pure embodiment of evil itself, never short of enforcing whimsical severe corporal punishment on any child who was unfortunate enough to commit even the slightest mistake. I have to say 3; I learned a lot from this guy, got it?

In short, the combination of a greedy man who would do anything for money, as well as being too superficial and ignorant to grasp the actual street value of the type of merchandise he was dealing with, meant only one thing, a gigantic margin of profit for me and a steady source of children available for sale. On my first visit to Botosani's orphanage, Andrij, who back then had no idea of my intentions, gave me the royal tour of the two-story house of horror, insisting that I check every corner, every room, and every stair. Ironically, Andrij was actually trying to show me how 'well' he's been up keeping the place, seemingly unaware that what he deemed 'decent' or 'normal', would probably be labeled as a rat hole or a dumpster at best, in my own part of the world.

Apart from the headmaster's office in one corner and a set of stairs at the middle, the ground floor was nothing but a large, empty and filthy hall. All the walls were covered with a combination of graffiti, dangerous-looking slime, peeled paint and eerie doodles. Complementing the Adam's Family feel, a dozen of rarely-if-ever-lit bulbs dangled down from the ceiling, providing the only source of light. During the day, the hall served as a recreation area and would be normally packed with dozens of mostly barefoot boys in scanty, ragged clothes, sitting idly, squatting tiredly, occasionally speaking and all sharing a certain silent expression of fear or anticipation on their faces.

The top floor consisted of ten bedrooms, which usually lacked or had insufficient numbers of beds, blankets and mattresses. Each room was packed with ten or more children who had to literally sleep on top of each other for the lack of space, and crawl into a miserable pile of flesh for warmth during the cold, Romanian winter nights.

Each bedroom had a single, basic bathroom with one seat and one shower, shared by all of the room's occupants, which would probably explain the foul stench that engulfed the entire house. Aside from the bedrooms, a modest kitchen with only some basic appliances, adjacent to a locked room which didn't appear to have any purpose, occupied the remaining space. All in all, the orphanage's meager staff consisted of Andrij, the headmaster, and four middle aged male employees who seemed as if they could do better as mercenaries or jail guards.

Such a horrible place to 'store' such delicate and helpless creatures 3; don't you think!?

Saturday, October 25th, 2005 – 9.45 AM | Botosani's Boy Orphanage

• – Andrij! I cheered out as I set foot inside the house and noticed Andrij speaking to one of his employees.
• – Oh 3; what I see? Tom 3; Thomas Connor my good friend 3; long time no see you 'ey 3; you here now, weelkom weelkom said the man with a pathetically broken English and a heavy tongue.
• – How are you Andrij?
• – Good! Good 3; is better when see you! Come my office here, I bring you coffee, come. He stuttered a few words in Romanian to the man he was speaking with earlier and guided me to his make-shift office. What bring you here 'ey? you no come here long time! I have many worry for you.
• – Relax my friend 3; I'm okay, I've just been away from business lately.
• – You not lie to me man are you? You buy somewhere else now right? Moldova right? You not like Andrij business anymore 'ey?
• – Hey Andrij 3; relax, you're my friend, you know that 3;
• – Yes 3; Friend. So whats bring to you to me today? he said as the other man came in with two cups of coffee.
• – Well, I'm not here to drink coffee, I said with a grin.
• – Ey, that I like 3; good coffee, good business, good friend no?
• – Exactly.
• – So what you need to me to give you today?
• – A 10 year old.
• – Good 3; good! I have many, all with very beauty!
• – Not only that, I want him to be blonde, green eyes and no more than 4.7' [1.40 m] tall.
• – Hahaha, tough customer 'ey?
• – Yea I smiled in agreement.
• – And 3; uhhh 3; ceea ce este cuvâtul, it seemed as if he was fighting to find the words until he managed to form a somewhat understandable sentence. Like stick or many meat on body? puzzled at first, I then realized he was asking me if I wanted a chubby or a skinny boy.
• – Oh, it's half, half. I said as I struggled to explain in gestures that I wanted the boy to be healthy, neither skinny nor fat.
• – Okay no problem, you finish coffee, we go see later. I have new boy too, very beauty boy, I give you special price.
• – I'm only interested in one boy now Andrij, I said as I gulped down my coffee.

Impatiently, I had to wait for Andrij to casually sip his coffee, all the while blabbering and complaining about money, business, the poor underfed children, those damn Moldavians, these Bastard Ukrainians 3; the same nasty, pathetic trick he pulls every time, setting the stage to charge more money on the account of, pity. After a 15 minutes ordeal of having to listen to a wanna-be-lamb, I followed Andrij back to the main hall to check what's on display.

• – Here, good one for you, he said as we made our way to one corner of the room, literally jumping over, dodging out and sneaking through the countless number of boys scattered around on the floor.
• – Which one?
• – This! he added as he pulled a fearful boy a bit strenuously by the hair, forcing him to his feet. It is beauty now, no?
• – Yea 3; Not bad, I said with the best monotonous voice I could muster as I quickly scanned the boy which I deemed 'good but not good enough', head to toe. With money-hungry bastards like Andrij, even the slightest tone of delight or eagerness would automatically fuel his greed and he would end up charging triple and even more the initial price he had in mind.
• – So? What you say?
• – He's good Andrij, can I see something else?
• – Yes yes come. Again, we made our way across the room until we reached a boy lying down on his side, scribbling some drawings on a torn paper.
• – Se scula băiat (stand up boy), barked Andrij as he ordered the boy up. Look now, he reaaaal candy you think 'ey? he said as he viciously pulled the boy's arms until his slender wrists crossed behind his back, emphasizing the nearly naked chest. I tell you my friend, boy one of better I see in longtime, he said while he placed his right hand under the boy's jaw and tilted the head up, to reveal the child's face.
• – Hmm 3;
• – What? You not like?
• – He's not bad Andrij. On a first glance, the boy seemed like a real gem, however, a thorough examination which was a standard practice, was definitely needed if I was to buy the boy.
• – What mean this man? Boy very good if he was big girl I marry now!
• – Well, send him to your office, I'll check him out then, but I need to see more boys. I chuckled, amused by Andrij's irritated tone and his funny notion of marriage. The more 'hard to get' I play, the better my bargaining conditions would be, standard tactic.
• – Come 3; now this boy not ten, these eleven years but look ten, he mumbled as he pulled another boy to his feet, temptingly caressing the boy's face as to imply on how smooth and young the boy was.
• – Actually Andrij, he's very skinny 3; I don't think he can endure my training, I said while holding the boy's forearm. The poor thing had a gorgeous face but was definitely underfed. I could literally feel his ribs through the scanty shirt he was wearing 3;
• – Yes, not many meats 3; Ehh ok, I tell you, I show one more boy. He very very good beauty but is big problem.
• – Why?
• – He no listen 3; so I put boy in prison for punish 3; want to see?
• – Yes.
• – Good 3; Come. He guided me upstairs to the locked room near the kitchen. Now this I think you like he said as he headed towards the boy who was lying down in a fetal position in one corner of the room, probably asleep. Using his foot, Andrij shook the boy awake, yanked him by his hair and with a slap to the child's face, he addressed the boy in Romanian, probably ordering him to stand still.
• – This one looks good 3; but I want to examine him.
• – Yes, yes you make see no cloth 3; I get you other boy for you here.
• – Ok.
• – Petya vin aici! he shouted to one of his employees, probably asking him to fetch the other boy who was waiting in Andrij's office then he gave me permission to examine the boy's body.

It only took me a couple of seconds to understand why Andrij had told me that this boy was trouble. The moment I reached out to unbutton the boy's shirt, he shoved my hand away and began shouting a few words in Romanian while looking at me with a defiant, almost cute look. Andrij was quick to reply with another slap to the back of the boy's head, shouting at him and apologizing to me for the boy's behavior. Undeterred, I made another attempt and just as I was about to reach the lowest button on his shirt, the nervous and defiant child dashed through the room heading towards the door when his courageous attempt was halted by Andrij's muscular hands, quick to seize and circle him.

• – I very sorry friend 3; I say for you before this boy is big problem.
• – I don't mind that Andrij, but I won't buy unless you find a way so that I can examine him.
• – Ok no problem I make better 3; boy high with hand together, he no move for you.

To be honest, I didn't fully understand what he said until I saw him reaching for a lengthy chain which was attached to a pair of iron cuffs. He forced the screaming and kicking boy down to the floor and straddled him; he then reached for both of the boy's wrists and with a lot of struggle, managed to cup them firmly with his left hand while he reached for the chain, securing each cuff around the boy's wrists.

As soon as he stood up, the unquestionably courageous boy literally jumped to his feet and made another dash, only to be swiftly stopped and yanked backwards when the chain reached its length, knocking the child down on the floor, weeping.

He go nowhere now haha, mocked Andrij as he attached the other end of the chain to a metal hook which was in turn, connected to a pulley system I hadn't noticed before and had no apparent use, until then.

Without much effort, Andrij began rotating the handle fixed on the wall, causing the chain to retract, initially dragging the bound boy on the floor. Then, undeterred by the child's screams as the cuffs bit on his wrists, Andrij started lifting him up inch by inch until he was completely airborne. A couple more rotations and the boy was swaying back and forth, limply dangling above the floor by around a foot [30 cm].

Apparently unsatisfied, Andrij reached for another pair of ropes and while wrestling with the boy's kicking and screaming, he managed to secure a rope around each ankle, and then proceeded to tie each rope to a hook fixed on the room's walls. When he was done, the boy finally became tightly secured, accessible for a probe and beautifully displayed.

• – Now he make no problem for you Tom Connors.
• – Good but what about his clothes? I pointed out.
• – Oh yes 3; nesărat am uitat 3; not problem, take this for clothes off.

In the midst of struggling to pin the boy down, Andrij seemed to have forgotten that tiny yet crucial detail. However, he quickly fixed his mistake by producing an army dagger which was secured around his ankle and giving it to me, apparently to tear off the boy's rags. Without any hesitation, and frankly aroused and delighted by the treat, I stepped closer to the hanging boy, ready to peel him off.

As the boy's shirt had already been unbuttoned, a quick slide of the dagger from under the shirt's neck and along each sleeve was enough to tear it apart, revealing the boy's upper body. Moving on, I bent down to reach the left leg of the boy's pants. Again, I used the dagger to cause a small split in the fabric at the bottom of the leg, then using both of my hands, I grabbed both sides of the torn fabric and with a bit of physical strength, tore the pant's left leg all the way up to the groin area. I repeated the same process on the right leg and finally, using the dagger again, cut through the remaining area and all the way up to the waist, causing the pants to dive down to the floor, much to the boy's angst. Kneeling down again, I took care of each of the boy's socks and just as I was about to tear down the boy's final garment, a leftover of what was once-white scanty underwear, the door knocked.

No worry man is Petya 3; He good man like me. Petya was at the door, holding the other boy I had picked by his shoulder. Andrij spoke to his employee then guided the terrified-looking boy inside, locking the door behind him. You continue now. I bring to you other boy for you to see. Back to the task ahead, I cut open each side of the boy's underwear and in a split second, the glorious, naked form of a ten-year-old boy lit the dim and cold room.

If anything, experience had taught me to distinguish between two, very distinct types of potential buyers with various needs and demands. The first type is what I have come to label the 'pick-and-go' these people are usually a hasty, shallow group which depends solely on first impressions, usually a face's beauty and is completely oblivious of what constitutes true quality. This group is easy to deal with, easy to manipulate and easy to convince, however, they're usually much less generous, when it comes to the final payout.

The second type is the 'Boy Connoisseurs', they're a sophisticated bunch with a much finer taste. They're usually a lot more specific, extremely demanding and much more cultivated than the 'pick-and-go's'. Connoisseurs know exactly what constitutes quality, other than apparent and obvious features, they usually criticize and scrutinize every single inch of a boy's body before they make a purchase and are therefore, a much more difficult albeit rewarding type to do business with.

Since I wasn't sure to which category Cornelli belonged, I decided to stick to a quality standard I had refined over the years, which required performing a close, almost clinical inspection of the boy on sale body by starting at the top of his head and all the way down to the tip of his toes.

Gently placing my hand under the boy's chin, I lifted the pained and sobbing face up for a better look; a first impression is always important for any potential buyer but never crucial for 'Boy Gourmets'.

The first step was to check the overall condition of the hair. Reaching for a pen I had in my pocket, I began an intensive examination of the badly cut, otherwise beautiful dirty-blonde hair that crowned the boy's head, boyishly delicious with a couple of unruly strands finding their way down on the boy's forehead and over his ears. Meticulously and unhurriedly, I parted each strand, searching for but finding no sign of lice or other scalp-infections which were all too common with kids living in such unsanitary conditions.

Satisfied, I shifted my focus down to the boy's face, starting to get delighted at what I was seeing. Underneath the thin and elegant eyebrows, swimming in tears and engulfed by a sad look, a pair of gorgeously bright olive-green, almond-shaped eyes, dotted the boy's face perfectly. In between these optical orbs, stood a methodically carved button nose, small yet perfectly proportional and with the cutest curved bridge I had ever seen. As if that wasn't enough, an ever-so-light sprinkle of freckles over the boy's nose and over his upper cheeks, further accented the boyish charm.

Below the nose, a tiny and barely visible philtral dimple emphasized the boy's elegantly sculpted lips. His thin, almost delicate upper lip with a visible curve on each end, topped a much thicker and fuller lower lip, forming a deliciously inviting mouth which for a few seconds, took me to a trance where I imagined myself nibbling, licking and biting on it and shoving my dick hard inside.

Snapping back to my senses, I decided to go even more thorough, intrigued and attempting to find at least a single flaw. Forcibly, I parted the boy's lips with my thumb and pried his mouth open, systematically running my index on each and every tooth, searching for missing teeth, gaps or cavities, as well as paying enough attention for any visible gingival disease. I have to admit that for an instant, I couldn't believe my own eyes! Never in all of these years did I find a boy's mouth to be so perfect, I mean, I'm definitely not an Orthodontist but logically, a growing boy at his age with not a single missing tooth and not a single cavity is something very unlikely, almost next to impossible.

Utterly delighted by the so-far perfect features, I tilted the boy's head upwards a bit more for a better neck inspection. Simply put, the boy's neck can only be described as petite yet masculine. The carnally thin and graceful neck was further propagated by a shapely SCM muscle defining the side of the boy's neck, a pair of under-developed trapezes and an all too erogenous notch at the base. The whole package was practically screaming for attention, devilishly snaring and definitely deserving a long and slow session of tongue bathing.

Plunging down with the inspection, the level of my bewilderment soared as I laid my eyes on the boy's torso. Childishly framed yet neatly chiseled, the boy's gorgeously shaped chest was dotted by the cutest, tiniest and most chewable pair of areolas I had ever laid my eyes upon. Tantalizingly flat, pinky in color and elastically soft, those two jewels quickly rose to attention as soon as I moved my hands over them, pinching slightly and receiving a joyously rewarding reaction, a couple of perfectly erect nipples, begging to be bit and munched.

Continuing with my assessment, the lower level of the boy's torso proved to convey no disappointment as well. To my personal preference, the boy's abdomen seemed to bear no signs of muscles yet, it could only be described as having a perfectly simple childish form yet alluringly accessorized with a pair of firm-looking love handles which showed absolutely no trace of flab or fat. Finally, the boy's abdomen was neatly supplemented by a perfectly knit belly button, well worthy of a lengthy tonguing.

Next in line was the 'Flaws & Quality exam'. This dual-purpose practice is aimed to get a better feel for each curve, rib and muscle, while eye-scanning every single inch of flesh for acne, pimples, cuts, bruises, blemishes or flaws. Slowly yet systematically, my experienced palms began roaming, probing, checking and scrutinizing the boy's chest, stomach, sides, back and outer thighs. Even more in depth, there was a need to occasionally grope a heap of flesh, pulp the abdomen or even slap the thighs, all in order to check the firmness and composure of the hanging bag of boy-flesh. In line with the hands-on examination, my eyes were busy scanning every single nook and corner of the child's skin, in order to come to a practical evaluation.

In conclusion, I was pleased that I couldn't detect a single flaw to degrade the boy's so-far supreme quality. His delightfully shaded cream-white-skin bore no signs of faults, not a single blemish, not a single defect, stain or speck of imperfection. Furthermore, the indescribable softness, smoothness and tenderness I felt unfolding underneath my hands, added to the raising value of the boy on display.

With the conventional upper body exam concluded, there was one more thing I had to check for before shifting my attention to the lower part of the boy's body, physical strength and endurance. As an experienced pet trainer, this was a key-detail usually dismissed by regular customers, yet only understandable and fully appreciated by an expert's eye.

The reason behind such an evaluation is to assess if and how much a boy can endure physical challenges. Training and morphing a boy from a larger-than-life human being with hopes and dreams, aspirations and free will to a mere pet which would only react to orders, often proves to be no easy task and normally requires a considerable amount of physical punishment. So to purchase a boy who is too weak to endure such a rough treatment would only leave the buyer with a wrecked toy that cannot be amended. As for how to determine a boy's firmness, it can only be described as an acquired skill. Conducting a professional evaluation required combining various elements before reaching a final judgment.

For starters, I positioned myself to the boy's side, placed my right hand on the boy's chest then my other hand between his shoulder blades and applied a considerable amount of pressure, judging by its rigidity, resistance and the boy's facial expressions, I could safely conclude that the boy showed normal if not little pain. Then, I reached out and grabbed the boy's right forearm, assessing the thickness of his bones. Naturally, the thicker the bones are, albeit respective to a child, the healthier they are and the better he stood a chance of surviving long hours of hanging by his arms, an unavoidable part of the pet-training-program. Satisfied enough, a quick and old fashioned grabbing of the boy's arm muscles proved beyond doubt, that the boy was really something unique, well adapted and well prepared for the hardship that will lay ahead. Wrapping up, I grabbed the boy's torso from both sides, administered a couple of slaps around his abdomen and near his armpits and came to a conclusion that his physical strength and endurance were well above standards.

Now that a complete examination of the upper body was done, it was time to move down to check out the most delicate part of the package, the multipurpose frontal tool and the pleasure cave at the rear.

Starting with the front, I was personally delighted to see a neatly circumcised penis, perfectly proportional in size and girth to the rest of the delicately sculpted body. For a proper evaluation however, a full erection was needed and was swiftly realized as I repeatedly stroked and groped the boy's genitals.

As a result, the once miniscule and limp dicklet came to life, unfolding in all its beauty and rising to reach a healthy, child-sized 4 incher [10 cm]. Sitting at the top, bathed in a soft-purple color was a neat, asparagus shaped glans, surrounded by an equally colored, equally adorable and sensitive looking corona. Beneath the head, the stiff-as-a-rod shaft with no apparent or over-exposed veins stood proud, almost vertical to the boy's belly, and complimented by a fairly developed penile raph running the length of the entire shaft. At the lowest level of the amazing love tool, two small jewels tucked neatly inside a fleshy sack, protruded shyly to my invading eyes, as if begging to be fondled.

Bending over a little bit, I grabbed the boy's sack and lifted it a bit to check for any skin-rash underneath and around it, as well as trying to detect the slightest trace of pubic hair, to find none. Afterwards, I had to assess how early the boy will be hit by the puberty train, thus, the expiration date 3; as it is usually referred to.

Judging by the size of the boy's scrotum and jewels and by the fact that his testicles were still clinging to the body and showing no intention to drop just yet, meant that even though the boy was in perfect health, he was either younger than ten or he would probably be a late bloomer, both options leading to the fact that he had a long way to go before hitting puberty. Satisfied, I moved behind the hanging boy, eager to examine the child's backdoor entrance.

Just how wrong I was when I assumed I had seen and ridden every single type and shape of boy-ass there is! I have literally seen, felt and mounted hundreds of boy-butts during the entire span of my career, yet none whatsoever, seemed as beautiful or as inviting as what was exposed in front of my hungry eyes.

The boy's so-far divine features were swiftly dwarfed in comparison to the most perfect, most feminine-yet-strangely-boyish, heart-shaped ass that has ever graced my eyes. The two immaculately molded half-moons, thick and full, firm but soft were delicately parted by a steep valley, starting from an attractive V-Shaped tailbone and down to the boy's crotch. Without a moment of thought, I grabbed each of the boy's buns respectively, caressing then pinching each for a good minute or so, indulging myself in the exquisite skin softness and the firm posture of each bun.

Moving my face closer for a better look, I grabbed both of the boy's buns and parted them enough so as to get a sneak peek at the pleasure-dome that dwelled deep inside the valley of shadows. As soon as the fleshy bumpers were well apart, my eyes were treated to an impeccably clean, bright-pink outer ring of scrunched flesh surrounding the boy's anus, darker in color yet clung tightly enough to imply the boy's virginity. Even more gratifying, was the fact that the flawlessly shaped butt also bore no trace of pimples which are all too common to this area of the body, as I scanned over and in between the buns, finding nothing but a sublime, faultless flesh.

Even though I was almost certain of the boy's virginity, I needed to be positively sure beyond any reasonable doubt. With that in mind and while still parting the boy's buns with my left index and thumb, I guided my right hand's index right until it touched the anus, causing a small reflexive twitch from the boy, then, without a second of delay, I guided my invading finger deep inside and pushed until my second phalange was buried. The bound boy's immediate scream of pain and shock as well as his violent struggle against his restraints in a futile attempt to dodge my invasion, only proved, and much to my utter joy that he was indeed a virgin and that, beside his own finger, nothing had ever touched or been so close to his anus before.

The major, crucial part of the overall exam was finished, most buyers, be it connoisseurs or your regular Joes would be utterly thrilled to get their hands on such a fine specimen, however, I still had to check the boy's legs and feet, the later, being an immense personal fetish.

Starting at the boy's thighs, I respectively grabbed each of the boy's thighs with both hands and squeezed on each for a bit, appraising their firmness then with a satisfied slap, continued my optical scan of the skin, again revealing no imperfections to taint the otherwise perfect package. With a quick feel of the boy's knees and an educated appreciation of the accurately cleaved calves, I bent down on one knee and reached the final step of my lengthy, arduous inspection, the feet.

I wouldn't say never, but throughout the years, I had only occasionally dealt with customers who were specifically interested in a boy's feet. In my personal opinion however, feet were the pinnacle of creation, designed to sustain an entire body's weight yet somehow managing to have the softest, silkiest skin of all and the most exquisite shape in human anatomy.

As with the rest of the boy's body, I was exhilarated against my own personal expectations and general cases, to find a pair of the most beautifully shaped feet I had ever seen. As a common rule, boys, or human beings for that matter who lived in cold places without proper heating or footwear, would usually suffer from a sort of frostbite, which would permanently scar the foot's skin-tissue and causes severe and disgusting reddish and sometimes even blackish rashes, especially around the heel.

Yet, against all the odds, I could barely hold my indifferent posture in front of Andrij as I discovered that not only were the boy's feet and the attached digits beautifully shaped, but that they were as close to perfection as one can get.

Not a single trace of rash or impurities, not a single deformity could be spotted as I manipulated and twisted each of the boy's feet and toes. The thin ankle, the neatly carved arch as well as the heel and toes showed absolutely no sign of disease such as the infamous athlete's foot. None of the toes had bunions, none had a hammertoe, nails were neatly cut and every single one of the boy's toes was a work of art on its own 3;

I can see you like boy 'ey Thomas, Andrij taunted the minute my lengthy examination came to an end. Amazed yet doing my best to keep the indifferent posture a buyer must have, I gave Andrij a casual smile, as if to imply the 'meh 3; he's not bad' expression as I took my e-diary to write some notes.

Saturday, October 25th, 2005 – 11.35 AM | To Buy or Not to Buy

Not only was I satisfied, I was downright dazzled at what I have just seen, yet, bargaining was a crucial part of the purchase. For a maximum chance of a successful bargain, flaws needed to be pointed out in order to reduce a boy's price, as well as being able to irritate yet keep the seller interested and calm enough until he finally caves in. Deep down, I knew the boy was the epitome of perfection, the Holy Grail of boylovers, so I had to see and invent flaws which simply didn't exist.

• – Oh, the boy is good Andrij, but I've seen a lot better.
• – You make silly joke no? Andrij blurted.
• – No, I mean 3; the boy is really good Andrij and I'm really interested in buying him but he has a lot of bad qualities man, I said to him as I casually placed my hand on the boy's left thigh.
• – What bad things? he said as he moved closer, intrigued.
• – Come, you see the boy's dick? It's cut and it's too small for a boy who is ten-years-old!
• – Yes 3; but he is boy no big man to have big dick.
• – I know he is a boy, but even younger boys have a bigger dick than him, that's not good.
• – But is good boy for you 3; he said, sounding almost desperate.
• – Well, smell his breath 3; bad breath means that this boy is not in good health, I said as I approached the boy's face, opened his mouth and pretended that I was disgusted by a smelly breath which didn't actually exist.
• – I can see breath no good yes 3; What a fool, I thought to myself as Andrij naively agreed to my false claim.
• – Also, look how small his eyes are, I don't like that! I said as I lifted the boy's face and pointed to his gorgeous eyes, hoping that Andrij would also fall for that blatant lie as well.
• – What else you no like? At that moment, I knew I was winning; I had actually convinced Andrij that the boy wasn't perfect, subsequently; I had already undermined whichever price he had in his head.
• – Well 3; his hair is not very blonde also, I wanted a blonde boy but this one is what we call dirty-blonde, I added as I pulled a strand of the boy's hair with my thumb and index.
• – Ok not much blonde but still good boy no?
• – Hmm 3;
• – What? he was growing impatient, a perfect time to score.
• – Well 3; I whispered, pretending to be hesitant as I nonchalantly eyed the boy once again from head to toe, occasionally tapping different parts of his body, pretending that I hadn't made my mind yet 3; How much do you want for him?
• – Err 3; I mean 3; is 3; so you want boy or no? he was clearly confused, It seems that for a second he thought that he was going to lose the deal and that I wasn't going to buy the boy then I flipped the table and asked for the price, a tactic which usually yields a good result, hesitation. You know Thomas my friend, I think boy is very good so price is not cheap.
• – Well then how much?
• – 2500 dollars and you take boy, he finally said with an all too obvious tone of uncertainty in his voice.
• – What? No no no no Andrij, thank you but I will not pay that much for a boy with so many bad things. Bingo! It will only take a few seconds for him to reconsider the boy's price.
• – Thomas my friend 3; we know other for long years now. Why do this?
• – I know we're good friends Andrij, but this is business and friendship doesn't count 3; I really hope you could understand but I will not pay 2500$ for a sick boy with so many bad things like I showed you. Actually, the boy's price tag was so damn cheap that I could've paid without bargaining 3; but there would be no fun or challenge for me if I simply did that 3;
• – I tell you something now 3; you check other boy now!

All of a sudden, Andrij dashed irritably across the room, grabbed the other boy who was standing near the door by his shoulder and shoved him towards me, then, without even looking at me, he proceeded to lower down the hanging boy who squirmed into a miserable pile of agony as soon as his body hit the floor.

At that moment, I thought I had lost, that I had pushed my luck too much and that my plan had backfired. For a few seconds, I felt afraid that I wouldn't be able to purchase that miraculous boy anymore because I knew if I insisted or showed too much interest again, Andrij would eventually retaliate by asking for a considerably much higher price. For that, I decided to play along and remain cool, I may have lost a battle, but not the war, at least 3; not just yet.

• – What's the matter Andrij? Why are you mad?
• – No mad 3; you look other boy now.
• – Okay sure 3;

Since I had decided to play along, I chose to act completely normal as I proceeded to examine the other boy on the market. Since the child was terrified to the bones by the sight of his friend being hung from the ceiling, the tamed boy showed no resistance whatsoever as I began removing his clothes, eventually stripping him completely naked.

Next, I brought a small stool sitting in one corner of the room and guided the boy to stand on top of it. Probably opposite to what Andrij had expected, I took my time as I performed the same extensive examination I did with the original boy, making sure not to skip a single step.

After the long and comprehensive test, I came to the conclusion that this boy was also of a very good quality, albeit not nearly as perfect as the original boy. He had a lighter shade of dirty-blonde hair, short and unruly. His face was also very attractive, beautifully shaped and featured. His penis was neatly circumcised, of a good size and shape and the backdoor test showed that he was a virgin as well. The rest of his body met my quality standards except for a few scattered pimples around his buns and over his shoulder blades, basically nothing out of the ordinary. As a matter of fact, I found the boy just as good for a purchase as the other one.

• – Now what you think? said Andrij, somewhat defiant and clearly enraged.
• – It all depends on the price 3; I said, casually.
• – Fuck price 3; I say he good boy, I say other boy is good boy, he barked.
• – They are both good boys, you are right! I agreed in a calm tone in an attempt to ease his anger.
• – So you buy which one?
• – How much do you want for this boy? I spoke as if I had completely forgotten the initial boy who had captivated me.
• – You like this one? he said, somewhat surprised.
• – Yes, he also has some bad things but I like him and I like the other one too.
• – Ok 3;
• – Ok what?
• – I have good deal for you Thomas Connors 3; I do this for you only.
• – What's the deal, my friend?
• – I give you this boy for free.
• – What 3;? Fuck, what the hell just happened? is he suddenly drunk or what 3; I thought to myself, unable to hide my surprised reaction.
• – Yes 3; you want boy, I give you this for free but with condition.
• – What do you mean Andrij? I don't understand!
• – You buy other boy for 2500$ I give you this boy for no money.

Dear God! Okay here's the thing, I'm not exactly a man of conscious, I'm quite the opposite of that, but this? I mean 3; he was practically saying 'buy one get one free'. I mean 3; these are human beings we're dealing with! Granted, I couldn't care less and that hasn't stopped me before but, he was promoting these boys as if they were some new brand of soap or detergent trying to gain market by offering free and tempting rewards! Just when I thought humanity couldn't sink any lower 3; Fuck!

Like a fool, a rookie or an unprepared idiot, I stood there for a couple of seconds, dazzled and unsure on how to react, I knew that hesitation or confusion from my part were a grave, unforgivable mistake but never in my right mind did I expect such an offer or such a turnout of events 3; The offer was tempting, almost too good to be true. I could have two boys for the already cheap price of one; I could supply Cornelli with the less attractive boy and grace my personal stable with this newly found Cupid!

However, since the offer was so tempting, almost desperate, it only meant that Andrij was vulnerable, that he needed to get rid of these boys, most probably because of the overcrowded home and not out of the kindness of his heart, so I decided to push my luck even more, risking everything in this dangerous high-stake gambling stunt.

• – I don't know Andrij 3; I'm only here to buy just one boy! I said sheepishly.
• – Why only one, I give you two?
• – Yes I know and I'm very grateful for the offer, but you see 3; I only have 3200$ with me, so If I pay you 2500$, I won't have enough money to go back to America 3;
• – So?
• – Listen 3; I can only pay you 2000$, choose which boy you want to sell and I won't say no!
• – No 3; 2000$ is not good price, I have need for money for other boys to eat.
• – I really wish I could help you with that Andrij, but I can't 3; 2000$ are all that I can spare, and frankly, 2000$ is better than no dollars, don't you think?
• – Yes 3; better but no good for enough.
• – In that case, I'll have to go to Moldova or Ukraine, sorry to waste your time Andrij, and thanks for the offer.

At that particular moment, I knew beyond any reasonable doubt that the Moldova-Ukraine-Phobic Andrij would eventually cave, the frustrated look on his face said it all, not to mention the not so subtle hint that I'm going to do business elsewhere. All that was left to finish him off was to execute a clever, yet commonly used stunt. Casually and without any type of hesitation, I turned over and headed towards the door, turned the knob and was on my way out.

• – Fuck the Moldova 3; you buy here I say 'ey!
• – I wish I can Andrij 3; I replied without even turning back or slowing down my fake exit.
• – Why hurry? Thomas Connors my friend why you go like this? You listen!
• – What is it Andrij? I turned over, faking an annoyed look 3; the fish had already eaten the bait, all I had to do was reel it in 3;
• – I give better price 3; price for good friend like you.
• – It's 2000$ for Andrij, that's my final offer.
• – 2200 Dollar 3; good, no?
• – It's good Andrij 3; it's good 3; but I can only pay you 2000, I said as I turned over again, heading down the stairs.
• – Fuck this 200$ Thomas 3; is only 200$.
• – I know 3; it's only 3; 200$ less 3; or no dollars 3; it's your choice Andrij, not mine. At this point, I had already arrived to the lower floor when I heard heavy, rapid steps down the stairs.
• – You give me 2000$, he said as he reached me from behind and grabbed my shoulder.
• – Are you sure?
• – Yes 3; 2000$ and you take Stephan and Pascha. I assumed those were the boys names.
• – I don't want you to be angry Andrij, you're my friend 3; I added, as if I was showing him that I was interested in his friendship.
• – No angry 3; you good man, I take 2000$ 3; is ok, come to my office..
• – Ok 3;

Now that I had successfully bargained my way into getting two young boys for the price of one, there was only a couple of easy, effortless steps left before these boys could board a plane and head to a new, unexpected life.

The first step was to transform the boys' look from the street urchins they appeared to be, to the sons of a wealthy American tourist. As per established custom, I agreed with Andrij to return in a couple of hours with new clothes for both boys and with Andrij's sole purpose, a forty-paper stack of 50$ bills.

Afterwards, I took a ride back to town, checked out of the small hotel and headed towards a clothing shop I had deemed safe, since I had already done business with for a couple of times before, always buying preteen boy clothes and shoes without having any children with me, and without raising any suspicion from the shop's apparently-naïve, or hungry for American cash, owner.

Then, I bought a couple of luggage bags designed for children from another nearby shop, stuffed them with a couple of toys, some more clothes which won't be used and was once again on my way back to the orphanage.

Saturday, October 25th, 2005 – 2.20 PM | Pack 'em Up to Go.

Anticipating my arrival and probably impatient to get his hands on the money, I found out that Andrij had already finished most of the paper-work and all that was needed to do was to change the boys names, which was a legal, elective choice in Romania. Stephan and Pascha? I think not 3; I thought to myself as I scrambled a few names in my head until I made up my mind, Christopher and Andrew Adams 3; yea, much better.

I informed Andrij with my decision and 15 minutes later, he came back with the completed and officially stamped adoption papers, don't ask me how he does it 3; all that was left was a few signatures and the boys were legally in my custody.

• – Could you bring the boys here please?" I asked Andrij.
• – Yes yes I bring 3; one minute"

Andrij called for one of his employees, apparently asking him to bring the boys here. Minutes later, the man came back and ushered the two frightened boys, still naked, into Andrij's office. You make what necessary, said Andrij.

Since I wanted to insure a smooth trip back to home, I decided to shed off the ugly beast skin who gave these boys such a disturbing treatment a couple of hours earlier, and wear the 'loving & caring' father-type cloak, in order to ease the boys anxiousness.

With that in mind, I pointed to Stephan, who was now Christopher, the miraculous boy, and gestured to him to come close. The poor child, whose first encounter with me was all but delightful, clearly hadn't had the time to overcome his ordeal yet, naturally, he hesitated, taking a step backwards.

Gently, I stood up and reached for his forearm, through a fake smile and the use of hand gestures, I made him understand that it's ok, that I wasn't going to hurt him, then I showed him all the new clothes and toys and made him understand that they were his. Puzzled, the confused child raised his head to look in my eyes, as if to make sure I wasn't lying or that this wasn't some type of a joke 3;

• – Acestea sunt pentru mine?
• – What? I inquired while looking at Andrij.
• – Boy ask you if it is the clothes for him, replied Andrij.
• – Oh yes yes 3; for you, I said to Chris, pointing at him with a smile. Me 3; Papa for you now, I said to him, hoping he'd understand the universal word papa.
• – Eşti tatăl meu acum? Papa?
• – Andrij, I can't understand what he's saying, let him understand that I'm his dad now and that I'm very sorry for what happened.

In a calm and soothing tone, Andrij explained to the boys that I had adopted them, that they were my sons and that they were going to an exciting place called America! They understand now, he informed me.

Satisfied, I sat down again and asked Chris to come over, the naked child who was still confused yet showing some signs of relief, smiled faintly as he stepped towards me until he was standing right between my open legs, he then put his arms behind his back and simply stood there, waiting.

A pair of brand new socks, brand new underwear, a pair of genuine Jeans, a red long-sleeved sweater with some punk drawings, another sleeveless shirt which went with it, brand new shoes and a red baseball hat did their magic, transforming Chris into a genuinely looking 'Western' boy. With a wider smile drawing on his face, I reached out and gave him one of the electronic toys I had bought earlier.

Then, I instructed Andrew to come forward and dressed him up as well, gave him another toy and smiled reassuringly at him. Finally, and to complete the charade, I gave Andrij my digital camera and asked him to take a picture of the three of us smiling.

• – It's been a real pleasure doing business with you Andrij 3; here's your reward, I said as I counted the money in front of his hungry eyes.
• – Oh thanks for you Thomas Connors, come back soon 'ey, he said, glittering at the sight of cash.
• – I will thanks.

I knew that the boys were aware that they were actually sold to me, but I was counting on the trademark child resilience and adaptation as well as on my completely changed behavior to gain their trust and confidence.

• – Let's go boys 3; AMERICA! I said to them both, with a fake excited tone.
• – Goodbye Thomas Connors.
• – See ya Andrij!

With that, I gave a luggage bag to each of the boys while I carried the rest and ushered them out of the dreadful home. An hour later, the three of us were boarding a train heading to Bucharest.

Saturday, October 25th, 2005 – 9.15 PM | The Ramada Magestic Hotel

In order to board a plane and head back home, there was only one more step to go through, one small obstacle to override. I had to run by the embassy in Bucharest to present the adoption papers and complete some more paper work to get the boys valid U.S passports. Since it was already getting late, I checked the three of us into a nice, cozy hotel, called the room service and ordered the best meal that money could buy.

Meanwhile, using hand gestures, I asked both boys to hit the showers while I called the embassy for an appointment. Minutes later, two large trays of delicious looking food were served and the boys who had already finished their bath and had changed into the complimentary Hotel Robes, literally attacked the various dishes, gulping and stuffing as much food into the their mouths as if there was no tomorrow.

For a minute there, only for a minute, I felt sorry for them, I knew they've been through a lot, that they were hungry to the bones, that they were miserable, fragile and in a dire need of affection 3; if only they realized the kind of life that was awaiting them, they would've probably thrown themselves out of the window 3; oh well, humanity doesn't pay 3; I recanted. The tiny crack in my solid wall of inhumanity was swiftly repaired.

The appointment with the embassy was scheduled for Monday morning, so we still had another day before things start falling into place, so I decided that for the next day, I'd play the best father these kids could have, further gaining their trust and minimizing any gimmicks or stunts that they might pull at the airport, if they were ever to be aware of my intentions. With that in mind, I finished my meal, waited for the cleanup service then asked the boys to go to bed which they did without any complaints, and then it was time for me to enter my last log for the day and enjoy a well deserved and well needed rest.

Sunday, October 26th, 2005 – 10.00 AM | At Herăstrău Park.

Sticking to my plan, I woke the boys up early on Sunday morning. We had another lavish breakfast and after getting directions, I took the boys to Herăstrău Park, a beautiful and well known park in Bucharest.

For the remainder of the day, I was an actual parent, relaxing on a bench, enjoying the warmth of the sun while watching my 'kids' as they goofed around, used invisible-swords to fight each other to death, climbed over monkey bars, splattered each other with water and giggled their lungs out. I have to admit that it was a nice feeling, a normal, human feeling. But it was a dangerous feeling which I couldn't afford; it was a feeling that could destroy my entire life style. So once again, I struggled with it until my egocentric side won, instructing my eyes to look at the boys as money bags instead of human beings, giggling, wiggling money bags 3;

That afternoon, I took them to a restaurant and treated them to what was probably one of the last good meals they would enjoy as human beings for years to come. Afterwards, we went to see a movie, pop-corn, candies and all, and finally, around 8.00 PM, we were back to the hotel room.

Monday morning, I gathered all the con and wily methods I have learned in my life, headed to the embassy and with a lot of effort and public skills, I managed to get the boys valid passports in a matter of hours, something which was highly unorthodox, let alone possible, when traveling with two, newly-adopted children.

Throughout the remainder of the day, I rushed to finish everything that was needed for the flight back home, I booked a plane leaving in a couple of hours, packed everything we needed, another light meal, checking-out of the hotel, another fatherly kiss on their 'valuable' cheeks and we were on our way to the airport.

Tuesday, October 28th, 2005 – 11.45 AM | Separated

It's been a couple of hours since I was back home, during which, I did nothing but lay down on the couch to get some rest as I watched the boys as they ran around, discovering the place, checking every room, every gadget and probably thinking that their lives couldn't get any better. Silly them, how oblivious they were of what the next couple of minutes had in store for them, poor bastards 3;

Feeling invigorated, well rested from my flight and anxious to finish off the deal, I fixed the boys their last, official human meal, grabbed my phone and called Cornelli.

• – Cornelli speaking.
• – You know it's funny when you say you're going to visit and you never do.
• – Thomas?
• – Yes.
• – Do you ha 3;
• – I bought a new car 3; can't wait to show it to you, I said in a firm tone, hoping that his thick brain would understand what I was implying at.
• – What ca 3; Oooh, oh yea ok, good to hear that 3; Uhm 3;
• – Come over for some coffee, you'll get to see my car as well, I'm gonna pimp it up shortly 3; seriously now 3; was the 'pimping' hint necessary?
• – Ehh ok, hold' on, I overheard him talking to his secretary, telling her that he's taking the day off for some urgent business. Give me your address 3; I gave the old man my address and proceeded to ensure a smooth operation.

To avoid any unnecessary struggle prior to Cornelli's visit, my plan was to keep the boys oblivious of what would happen, so I decided to split them up without raising any suspicions. First off, I called for both boys who were checking out the pool, I gestured to Chris to go and take a bath upstairs, then guided Andrew to the living room, turned on the TV and smiled at him, gesturing that he should watch a cartoons show that was on.

As the boy sat down, mesmerized by the gigantic screen, I snuck out of the room and locked the door slowly, avoiding any noise. Then, I followed Chris who had gone upstairs and was getting ready for bath. He had already finished removing his shoes and shirt and was about to take off his pants when I entered the bathroom.

Still 'in-my-best-behavior', I asked him to follow me and when he pointed out that he was half naked, I assured him that it was ok. I laid my arm across his shoulders gently and guided him downstairs again 3; As I reached the bookcase which concealed the stable door, I smiled at him again and in a well staged, obviously flashy and almost clownish way, I unlocked the bookcase, swung it open and revealed the hidden door behind it, closing the show with an all too silly "Ta'da!"

His eyes glazed as he saw the hidden door, I could only guess what he had imagined would be behind the mysterious entrance. However, guess games were no longer needed and with that in mind, I proceeded to undo the safety mechanisms that were installed, unlocked the door and in a matter of seconds, the entrance to wonderland was open.

Again, I smiled reassuringly at him and stepped inside, turned the lights to reveal a set of descending stairs and gestured at him to come with me. After an initial moment of hesitation, the boy's curiosity got the better of him and he finally stepped inside. The moment his foot reached the first step, the beast within me was finally unleashed.

In the blink of an eye, I circled my arm around him, covered his mouth with the palm of my hand to muffle the expected scream and closed the door shut with the other. Without any delay, I lifted him up as he wiggled for freedom and went down the basement, heading towards cubicle number 9, his new home 3;

Tuesday, October 28th, 2005 – 12.15 AM | Can't Believe My Eyes

The two-level soundproof basement that stretched the entire length and width below my mansion wasn't actually meant for 'multimedia purposes' as I had previously said to my building contractor. Long after the last construction worker and interior designer had finished their work and the mansion had fully taken shape, it was time for the 'second phase' in my plan which included me and a very good friend of mine who was a professional carpenter, sinking down to our ears in good old manual labor. Slowly but steadily, we had refurbished the entire basement from an empty rectangular hall, into multiple 'themed-rooms'

The first room in the basement's upper level was turned into a my private stable, with twelve 7'x7' [2.1x2.1 m] cubicles, six adjacent to each other and facing the other six with an 8 ft [2.5 m] passageway in between. Each cubicle was completely open from the front and separated from the other cubicles by a plank of wood, roughly four-feet [1.2 m] high and equipped with a 4'x4' [1.2 x 1.2 m] floor mattress, a toilet seat, a tiny shower booth and a 9 ft [2.7 m] length chain, secured to the back wall from one end and equipped with a neck-cuff from the other. Finally, two dog dishes for food and water were installed, in front of each cubicle.

The second room, also on the upper level, was remodeled into a small 'multi-purpose' theatre, complete with a three-foot [90 cm] high stage, a central pedestal, lights, a set of wide stairs and five rows, each containing five elegant leather sofas, separated by small tables.

The third and final room on the upper floor was the main reason behind transforming and keeping my pets docile. Properly labeled, the 'training room' was where a boy visits as a human being, and leaves as nothing more than a well trained pet.

The lower level of the basement was also partitioned into three different sections, one large room was stacked with 5'x5'x4' [1.5x1.5x1.2 m] cages along one walls, with two cages per column and fiver per row, with the upper row standing on a thick wooden shelf. Furthermore, the room had a large cabinet stacked with whips, leashes, chains, cuffs and all sorts of toys, neatly stacked and categorized. Furthermore, a large rectangular tub with a single shower occupied the remaining empty spot. Finally, a heavy-duty rectangular wagon with a handle, similar to the famous children toy but with larger proportions, sat idly near the toy-cabinet.

The second room had nothing but solitary cells, around 8'x8' [2.5x2.5 m] each with a toilet seat and a shower. Finally, the third and largest room was left empty, in case there would ever be a need to use it in the future.

As for the 'dwellers' inside my private stable's cubicles 3; well, you have already figured it out but let's just say that exotics pets aren't necessarily Amazonian Parakeets or some endangered species 3; in my stable, these pets were definitely animals, according to Darwin's evolution theory, but all too-human for even the toughest, meanest and most merciless man. All in all, seven of the twelve cubicles housed young, fragile and deliciously naked boys ranging between the ages of 8 and 12, all securely chained by their necks, sitting, squatting or lying down and waiting to serve and execute whichever whimsical orders that cross my mind.

Some of the seven boys were the result of unsuccessful deals, others were kidnapped because I was bored and the remaining was my favorite pet, a 12-year old, 'petite' Albanian boy I had purchased from his own father around four years ago, and has been serving me ever since. In time, he had become my usual bed-warmer, something which, for pets, meant actual heaven, since it meant that if they please their master good enough, they might have a chance of eating a proper meal and sleeping on their master's comfortable bed when he's done playing with their bodies.

Soon enough however, Samson, my Albanian boy's pet name occupying Cubicle No. 1, would soon find his place as my favorite toy at risk, as he and the other pets, crawled out until they reached the length of their leashes, attempting to get a glimpse of the newest addition and their newest neighbor.

Tuesday, October 28th, 2005 – 12.30 AM | Not so Fast Pal!

Relieved that Chris was secured in his new home, I checked on Andrew who was still glued in front of the TV, completely oblivious of his friend's fate. Minutes later, the doorbell chimed 3; it was finally the time to get down to business.

• – Hello Thomas.
• – Mr. Cornelli, nice to meet you again, please come in.

I invited the man inside and led him into the living room where Andrew was sitting, unaware of the nature of the man's visit. As a gesture of hospitality and to imply that I was in no hurry, I asked him to have a seat while I fixed us both a cup of coffee. Moments later, I was back with the refreshing beverage, took a seat across Cornelli and we were ready to finish a macabre deal.

• – So 3; I trust this is the boy? he said as he eyed Andrew.
• – Yep 3; a fresh catch and a fresh delivery, I replied, jokingly.
• – Hmm 3; may I ask where did you get it from?
• – Romania 3;
• – Nice 3; Any bumps along the road?
• – Any? I said, faking an annoyed, exhausted tone. I had to play my cards right to earn the man's respect and sympathy, thus more of his cash. Even if it meant that I had to invent an entirely fake story. Mr. Cornelli 3; I had to sneak through two international borders between Romania and Moldova, then to the Ukraine where I had to bribe a few guards for a safe passage, then, I had to 'obtain' an endangered animal transport cage which is basically a fancy wooden box with a few oxygen holes, then I had to 'buy' a special clearance to be allowed to escort the cage in a cargo plane. The boy had to be drugged, chained and locked inside the cage and I had to cover him with animal hides, in case some nosey bastard directs a flashlight to see what's inside 3;
• – Dear God 3; Cornelli exclaimed, clearly buying my story. After all, it was a convincing tale and an actual method used by many smugglers, not to mention that I was pretty convincing with my body language, my frowns, my hand gestures and so on 3;
• – Yep 3; pretty rough journey.
• – I can only imagine 3; he said, still processing or actually imagining what it would be like.
• – Nothing beats such an adventure though, I added, playing the cool, 'been-there-done-that' card, as well as adding an element of excitement, to gain even more of the man's attention.
• – If only I wasn't the CEO of Corpo Trade, the old man laughed, probably amused by the thought 3; Uhm, may I see what you got for me now?
• – Certainly, but please remember that he's yet to be trained, furthermore, he doesn't understand a word of English, so expect disobedience or even some struggling 3;
• – It's ok, it would only add to my excitement 3;
• – Good 3; Andrew, come here, I addressed the boy who was already accustomed to his new American name.

Still innocently oblivious of what was happening, the child who had been eyeing our conversation, probably trying hard to understand what were saying, complied cheerfully with my demand and stood right between me and Cornelli.

• – Let me just close the door before you start, I said to Cornelli.
• – What for?
• – I told you the boy is not tamed yet 3; even though he's not very rebellious, he might make a move and run for the door 3;
• – Oh ok 3;
• – There 3; all yours! I said to Cornelli as I locked the door and put the key in my pocket.

At that very moment, Andrew's relaxed facial expressions suddenly vanished and were once again replaced by the same expression of fear and anxiousness he had in the orphanage. The boy had finally understood that he was going to go through the same awful process he experienced back in the orphanage, that he was going to be stripped, probed, groped and touched.

The boy certainly wasn't spineless; however, he wasn't nearly as courageous as Chris, nor was he likely to put up a fight. Furthermore, the image of Chris hanging down from the ceiling back in the orphanage was still fresh in his mind, which probably helped to keep him calm, even though he was now visibly shivering as he stood in front of the hungry-for-young-flesh Cornelli.

• – Would it be okay if the boy stands on the coffee table? It would be easier for me if he's in my line of sight.
• – Make yourself at home Mr. Cornelli; I'll just be sitting here in case something goes wrong or if you need any help..
• – Great, thanks. Cornelli took the boy's arm and helped him up to the coffee table as I sat on a couch across the room and kept an eye Cornelli, trying to determine which type of customers he would turn out to be, in order to mentally prepare myself for the next phase.

The old man started by removing the boy's shoes, one by one, then with a dreamy grin, began to take off the boy's clothes. The first item to disappear was the boys' shirt which was swiftly removed and tossed on the floor. Afterwards, Cornelli moved on to unbuckle the boy's pants, sliding them down to reveal a pair of delicious boy-legs. After an initial pause of admiration, he then went on to remove the boy's socks and finally, as if he was too impatient to see the child naked, slid both his thumbs underneath the 'tighty-wighty brief's' waist, and within a second, the last piece hiding the boy's decency was airborne, landing on top of the pile of clothes on the floor. Until that moment, Cornelli's actions still hadn't revealed his type.

• – Beautiful 3; oh 3; he's so 3;adorable.
• – Glad you liked it Mr. Cornelli 3; I said with a grin.
• – He's 3; perfect 3;I 3; Ehh 3;

It's simply amazing what 90 pounds [40 kg] of boy-flesh could do to the CEO of a major company, isn't it? Cornelli was candidly glowing; he didn't even bother to hide his excitement as he grabbed the boy's arm and rotated him over and over again, literally eating the boy with his hungry eyes.

In a manner befitting the 'pick-and-go' customers, he ran his hands across the boy's body, caressing his chest and thighs for a few moments, pretending to know what he was doing. He then cupped the boy's face, cheek-to-cheek in his hand and seemed to meditate at the child's inarguably beautiful features, while mounting a thoughtful, educated expression. Wasting no time and probably still attempting to show his expertise, which, at that time I knew it didn't exist, he held the boy's limp dick between his thumb and index, gave it a few wanks while nodding his approval. I wonder what he's nodding at, I thought to myself, amused at the man's clear lack of knowledge. Finally, he maneuvered the boy until he was on all fours, his ass pointing in Cornelli's direction 3; So how do you examine the quality of a boy's ass? Well it seemed that according to this baboon Cornelli, all you had to do was peek at the anus, probably too afraid or disgusted to touch it, caress the ass-cheeks for a couple of seconds, then pull up a pathetic stunt, a hesitant, almost frightened slap to each bun, apparently to determine if they're firm or not!

Honestly, I had to keep myself from bursting into laughter as I watched Cornelli degrading himself from a well respected CEO who clearly knows a lot about the world of business and running a nation-wide company, into a goofball who didn't have a single clue on how to properly buy a boy. I also knew that even though he was clearly a 'pick-and-go', he was so eager and so rich that I could literally clean his pockets as soon as he's done making a fool out of himself.

• – So, what's the judgment your honor, I said as if I was joking with him, not at him.
• – He's 3; eh, well he's a very nice looking boy for sure.
• – Yep, actually he ranks high on my list as well 3; I added, this time however, I wasn't lying; the boy was a truly good specimen.
• – Where do we go from here then? he asked.
• – Actually, it all depends on your final word 3; I said as I casually grabbed the boy's shirt and signaled for the frightened child to wear it, as I helped him stand back up on the coffee table, keeping him well exposed. This sleazy tactic which has no apparent goal for rookies, actually serves to cover the boy's upper body while keeping the most erotic, sought-for parts on display, which in turn helps focus a potential customer's attention on what he's buying and somewhat lower his shields.
• – I'll buy the boy 3; if you give me a reasonable price.
• – Fair enough Mr. Cornelli, I'm a man who appreciates a fair deal as well, please have a seat. Man was I full of shit or what 3;
• – So how much do you want for the boy? the impatient fool blurted.
• – As you probably remember, you have already given me 15,000$.
• – Yes, that's not something I can easily forget, he said with a smile.
• – I'm sure of that hehe 3; Anyways, I had to buy a two-way ticket to Romania because I didn't want to raise any suspicions, so that's 1,500$.
• – Noted 3;
• – The man who runs the orphanage seems to be going through a rough time, so he insisted on 12,000$ for the boy, however, I managed to twist his arm so to speak, and managed to lower the price to 10,000$.
• – Isn't it a bit expensive? I mean I heard that boys are sold very che 3;
• – Haha 3; that was way before Mr. Cornelli 3; during and after the fall of the Soviet Union 3; things have radically changed since then 3;
• – Oh I see 3;
• – Anyways, since there was no way I can fly back straight from Romania, I had to travel by land to Moldova and then to the Ukraine, and like I have already told you, I had to bribe a couple of borders guards to be able to pass, which cost me around 1000$, which is actually a pretty cheap amount in exchange for freedom.
• – So that leaves us at 3; 12,500$?
• – If only it was that simple Mr. Cornelli 3; there's more 3;
• – Oh ok 3; he was beginning to show a slight frown.
• – The drugs that I used were actually cheap, so that's not important 3; However, the cage did cost 500$, and the permit to escort the cage siphoned another 1200$. Finally, the cheapest cargo ticket from the Ukraine cost me exactly 1350$.
• – Wait that's more th 3;
• – 15,550$ to be exact Mr. Cornelli, plus some insignificant fees which I won't' charge such as the hotel, food and so on 3;
• – So you think you're gonna convince me that you had to pay 550$ from your own money? I find it hard to believe my friend 3;
• – Mr. Cornelli 3; I understand exactly how you're feeling 3; and if we were doing this deal a year earlier, I would've probably been able to get you a boy for a far cheaper price 3;
• – This is not gonna cut it Thomas 3;
• – Very well 3; I'm gonna be brutally honest with you Mr. Cornelli 3; as you can see, I've already made my riches, I can stop doing this business now and still have enough money for years to come 3;
• – So what?
• – So if I was a new-comer to this business, I would've probably been a greedy bastard, I would've probably lied and deliberately bloated your bill with false expenses to earn more money for myself 3; but that's not the case, I've been doing this for way too long to care strictly for money 3; granted, I'm not a charity organization, but my main interest lies in the excitement, adventure and danger this career has given me 3; it's some sort of an adrenaline rush, once it's over 3; you need more!
• – You do have a point being rich and all, and I'm pretty sure you did spend most of the 15,000$ but it's hard for me to believe you've spent it all and an extra 500$ from your own pocket.
• – Very well then 3; I'm not gonna ask for trust, it's such a loose word 3; even though you asked me to trust you when I mentioned that this is not how I do business 3;
• – What are you getting at Thomas? he interrupted, growing impatient 3;
• – Mr. Cornelli 3; I'm not asking you to trust me, but I'm asking you to give me at least, the benefit of the doubt 3; I mean, if only I could get you receipts 3; but, this is not a bag of groceries we're dealing with here 3;
• – True 3; I suppose.
• – Now, since the 15,000$ only covered the expenses and didn't tackle at least a fraction of the boy's price, our initial agreement can no longer be upheld
• – So basically you're saying 3; you're not gonna hand the boy over.
• – No not at all, my intention, my sincere and utmost intention is to give this boy to you, for a price we could both agree on 3; trust me, I do not need another boy to go around 3; I have a private stable right underneath this floor with eight boys fully trained to execute any and all of my wishes.
• – Haha that's a good one 3; he said, lashing out a nervous laughter of disbelief 3;
• – Very well 3; let's play a game then, since it seems you're confident I'm bluffing.
• – I 3; I don't get it.
• – You think that I'm exaggerating the expenses and you laughed when I said I have a private stable 3; which means you think I'm lying.
• – Ok, masks off 3; yes I believe you are lying, he said, defiantly.
• – Fair enough, what if I showed you my stable? Would you still think I'm lying?
• – Uhm 3; I don't th 3;
• – If I showed you something very special 3; would you come to your senses and agree to negotiate?
• – I think I can do that 3; but you'll have to be really convincing, he said, still laughing nervously.
• – Very well, please wait here..
• – But you said 3; it's dow 3;
• – Five minutes, that's all I'm asking 3;
• – Okay 3;

I rushed out of the living room and went for my medical cabinet, applied some chloroform on a rag and went straight down to the basement. Without any delay, I headed towards Chris, cupped his mouth with my hand and applied the rag to his nose, knocking him almost immediately unconscious. Then, I unchained him, lifted him up and went down to the lower level of the basement, securing the boy in one of the empty cages. Swiftly, I locked the room's door and went up to fetch Cornelli.

• – Come with me please 3; I said to Cornelli as I grabbed Andrew by the back of his shirt and dragged him along until we reached the hidden door.
• – Is this the 3;
• – This is the entrance, as you can see 3; completely undetectable when I swing the bookcase over it.
• – Neat 3;
• – Follow me. I instructed him as we went down the stairs and into the main hall in the basement.

Reaching for one of the shelves, I grabbed a couple of training clickers and handed one to Cornelli, without explaining the purpose. Then, I opened the stable door and led both Cornelli and the boy inside. Using the clicker I had in hand, I clicked once and all of a sudden, my seven boys-on-leashes stopped whatever they were doing, crawled to the front of their cubicles and knelt down with their butts resting against their ankles, their heads down and their hands behind their backs.

Voice command	Clicker / Foot	Pet position	Position Explanation	description
T = Tick / clicker sound — P = 1 second Pause — F = Foot TAP — S = Foot Stomp
Roll over	-	DROB	Dog Rolling On its Back	Lay on back, bent knees and elbows upwards
ANY PET NAME	-	DSHL	Dog Standing on its Hind Legs	Arms near chest, wrists under chin, hands loose, tongue out, imitated dog breath
Come	F	RTS	Ready to serve	Knees together, butt rests on heels, palms spread on floor, head hanging
Good boy	Tap on head	-	-	A gentle tap on the head means good boy/dismissed
Follow me	TTPTT	Crawl	On all fours	The pet crawls behind his master on all fours, imitating a dog.
Attention	FF	DSHL	Dog Standing on its Hind Legs	Arms near chest, wrists under chin, hands loose, tongue out, imitated dog breath
On your knees	TPT	Classic BJ	Classic blowjob position	Kneeling, back straight, arms behind back, face near groin
Undress Me	TTPT	-	Pet undresses master	-
Suck Me	TPTT	Classic BJ	Classic blowjob position	Pet sucks his master
-	-	TYM	Thank you master	Kneeling, legs apart, torso straight, hands clapped, head bowed slightly
Fetch + item		RTS	Ready to serve	Pet fetches, shoes, magazine, sex toys, anything that can be grabbed in mouth
Footrest	S	RTS	-	Lays back on flat on back
Footstool	SS	RTS	-	Stands on all four sideways to his master
Foot massage	SPS	-	-	Pet massages master's feet.

Click here for this table in a separate window/tab

• – Pick a boy 3; I said, both defiantly and certain.
• – What the hell 3; the man exclaimed 3; his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets at the sight.
• – You wouldn't believe what I said, so you had to see it 3; And now that you did, I insist on showing you what you will be getting if you cough up some cash 3;
• – I err 3; I didn't mean to offend you or anything 3; I ju 3;
• – There's no need for that 3; just pick a boy.
• – What for?
• – You'll see 3; just pick!
• – Any boy?
• – Absolutely any boy you want 3;
• – Uh 3; how about this one? he said as he finally reached cubicle No. 4, which housed Lucky , a nine-year-old Spanish boy.
• – Very well, stand in front of him and part your feet slightly.
• – Ok 3;
• – Now, tap your right foot once. As soon as he did, the boy crawled over, bent down on his knees and forearms, his hands underneath his chin, until his forehead touched the floor between Cornelli's feet.
• – Oh my God 3;
• – This order means Come over here 3; now, TPT (on your knees) . Again, upon hearing the command, the boy knelt back on his knees, his torso straight, hands behind his back and his face only inches away from the man's groin, a typical blowjob posture.
• – This is amazing 3;
• – This order means 'on-your-knees' 3; I trust you wouldn't mind a complimentary blowjob 3;
• – What? he exclaimed, almost jumping out 3; That won 3;
• – Just a test for a couple of seconds, I insist 3;
• – Very well, he said as he reached out for his pants.
• – That won't be necessary 3; you're the master 3;
• – I don't get it 3;
• – You'll see 3; click TTPT (undress me) As he did, the boy reached out for the man's pants, unbuckled them and slid them down along with the man's underwear, revealing an already erect, mid-length dick.
• – Now what?
• – TTPT means undress me, however you can use voice commands as well, it all depends on your preferences but my pets will be always be trained to execute clicker commands as well as voice commands. Now click TPTT (suck me) .

The moment he finished clicking, the obedient boy assumed position, cupped the man's balls in his left hand, placed his right hand at the root of the man's shaft and without a second of hesitation, slid his velvety lips all the way down from the man's glans and into the base of the shaft, performing a remarkable deep-throat. After a few seconds, the boy began popping his head on the man's dick, varying his technique from slow and provoking glides and into speedy vigorous falls, all the while licking the shaft and glans, groping the man's balls and nibbling gently on the corona 3;

• – You have my permission to continue if you like 3; I said grinning, knowing that no man could resist such a treatment and that afterwards, Cornelli would be a ripe fruit, ready to be picked.
• – Oh my 3; I don 3;
• – It's okay, I'll just place young Andrew here in his new cubicle, take your time and feel free to cum however and wherever you want.

I left the man to enjoy his unexpected treat as I guided the frightened, shivering beyond control Andrew to cubicle number 10. I took the boy's shirt off, chained the his neck to the leash and went back to find Cornelli who had obviously been waiting for such a moment, grabbing Lucky's chain in one hand, pulling his hair tightly by the other and shoving his dick in and out of the uncomplaining child's mouth. Patiently, I watched the show for a few more minutes until I was alerted by Cornelli's groan, signaling a nearing climax. A moment later, a thick shower of stark-white drops of cum found their way to the boy's face, hitting and scattering around the boy's cheeks and nose, with a couple of drops eventually sliding down to settle on the boy's parted lips.

• – Oh my god oh my god 3; oh fuck 3; the man was almost speechless, blabbering in frenzy as he pulled his pants back up 3;
• – This is only your dick Mr. Cornelli 3; ever thought what it would be like having your toes sucked, or a boy's teeth scraping at your heels? Ever had your balls deep inside a boy's warm mouth or forced a stream of pee down his throat? I said teasingly, fueling the man's confusion and excitement.
• – I eh 3; no I don't think 3;
• – Well this is only a fraction of what you'll get Mr. Cornelli 3; the rest is up to your imagination, your whims and your desires 3; these boys no longer have a brain of their own, they only respond to voice commands, clicker commands and the occasional taping of your foot, the only time they are spoken to as humans is when they're serving me in bed, and that's because sometimes I need to give them specific instructions 3; other than that, they have been stripped of free-will and disobedience completely 3; they are allowed to speak to each other but never in my presence and have to rely on 'special' ways to convey something to me, such if they're hungry, thirsty or sick 3; In short, Mr. Cornelli, you'll get a special breed of pets, you can ride them any way you want, even if it meant dangling them down by their feet from a ceiling 3; you can fuck their mouths, their throats, their asses, rub your dick against their cheeks, between their feet or even under their armpits 3; you can use them as a foot-rest, as a food tray, as a urine-stall or simply as a practice target, when there's nothing good on TV 3;

  Pet talk		Position	meaning
  Bark X1	Once	DSHL	Food
  Bark X2	Twice in a row	DSHL	Water
  Bark X3	Three times in a row	DSHL	To convey sickness
  Bark X4	Two intermittent barks	-	Sorry master

• – So 3; err 3; so it seems, he said, nervous yet completely bewildered and undoubtedly galvanized to the bones 3;
• – So, are you satisfied enough to talk business or would you like to see some more?
• – As if I need to see more 3; I mean, I've seen my friend's pet and I know he's well trained 3; but this? I wouldn't dare imagining 3; let's do business, he said in a faint, almost whispering voice.

We went back to my living room as Cornelli, who was still dizzy from his unforeseen yet gratifying experience, followed me silently. Since I knew had the upper hand, I decided to come straight with my terms.

• – Ok Mr. Cornelli 3; Now that I've showed you that I'm not a liar 3;
• – I'm sorry I doubted you.
• – No need to apologize Mr. Cornelli 3; I can relate to your doubts.
• – Very well then 3; what sort of figure are we looking at?
• – Basically? 15,000$ for the boy.
• – Come on now Thomas, we're both rich but there's no need to clean me up here 3; I'll pay you 10,000$.
• – That won't do 3; sorry.
• – Fine 3; 12,500$, that's a middle ground 3; don't blow me off here 3;
• – I'll tell you what, here's my final offer and it's nonnegotiable 3; I usually charge 10,000$ alone for training a boy, and 15,000$ for the boy's price, as well as 5,000$ for all the gadgets I supply with each boy, such as leashes, cages, whips and so on 3; however, I'm willing to give you two offers, pick whichever you feel is best.
• – Okay, sounds fair, what do you have in mind then?
• – Well, I'm willing to cut down the child's price from 30,000$ I usually charge to a mere 25,000$, everything included..
• – Sounds like something I like 3;
• – However, my second offer would be 35,000$, which I'm pretty sure you're oblivious as to why it is even more expensive than the initial price 3;
• – I can't see myself agreeing to that, what's the difference and who would pay even more than the initial price? That's just absurd 3;
• – Here's the thing, only a handful of people know of what you've just seen downstairs, my customers know that I'm a boy hunter, but most of them are, just like yourself, unaware of the second and third room as well as the lower level floor which you didn't have a chance to see..
• – I noticed those doors yes 3; and?
• – Well the extra 5,000$ will give you an unlimited and unrestricted privilege to use these play-rooms if you understand what I mean. You will have access to these rooms and the facilities within, whenever you want 3; even if I'm not at home 3;
• – It all depends on what's in there I suppose 3;.
• – Your financial success actually entitles you for more, Mr. Cornelli 3;
• – How so?
• – Since you're financially capable, and you're obviously a man who admires and appreciates the type of comfort these special pets provide, I think I can safely assume that you would be very interested in acquiring more boys, other than Andrew, if opportunity presents itself 3;
• – I probably would be 3; yes.
• – Great, well then 3; you, alongside a select few, would have an irrefutable ticket to special auctions I hold here every once in a while, which means you'll have a chance at being one of the first customers to inspect any new merchandise on the market 3;
• – As tempting as it seems, but I can hardly accept any of that, since I haven't seen these rooms.
• – Understandable 3; so here's the deal, pay me 35,000$, in around two-weeks, you'll get another call from me to come and get your newly trained pet. When you do, you'll be given a chance to tour the entire basement. If you like what you see, I'll keep the 5,000$ and you'll get everything I've already stated. However, If you're not convinced by what you see, the 5,000$ will be refunded, no questions asked 3; that's all I can offer, and that's much more than what many others had a chance to get.
• – Hmm 3; he paused for a few moments, weighing his options 3; until he finally broke the silence. I'll be back with 35,000$ in a couple of hours, he said smiling as we reached out to shake hands.
• – I'm glad we reached an agreement Mr. Cornelli, and you have my word that the other rooms will blow your mind off.
• – Alessandro.
• – Sorry?
• – No more Mr. Cornelli 3; call me Alessandro, or Alex if you wish, he said.
• – Very well then Alex, I'll start the boy's training as soon as I get the money.

True to his word, Alessandro Cornelli, or Alex, showed up a couple of hours later with a hand bag containing 35,000$. After counting the money, making sure the sum is correct and warmly shaking hands with my new customer, I asked Alex to pick a pet name for his boy. After a moment of reflective thinking, he decided on Milo , nodding my head in agreement, I reminded him that I would contact him as soon as I finish training his boy then bid him farewell.

Since I had no time to waste, I decided that the both boys training should start without any delay, while giving priority to Alex's boy. With that thought in mind, I went down to my basement, ready to start the first phase of Milo's grueling two-week program designed to deconstruct a human being and morph him into the sex-pet he would soon become.

Chapter 9
Let The Training Begin!

Tuesday, October 28th, 2005 – 3.00 PM | Woof Woof 3; What?

Milo's Behavioral Training
1: Respond to your pet name!

The first thing to do was to check on Chris who was now fully awake, yet slightly dizzy. Struggling with the incredibly energetic kid, I finally managed to get a good hold of him as he kicked, wiggled, screamed and made various attempts to free himself as he was dragged all the way back to the stable. A nice neck-cuff and a heavy chain would do you good you little fuck, I mumbled as I wrestled to secure the cuff around his neck. Then, I proceeded to unleash Sparky , the 11 year old Canadian boy occupying cubicle No. 6 who so far, has been one of the brightest and best behaved pets I have. He had a beautifully shining washed-blonde hair, thus his pet name, a pair of bright-green eyes and one of the whitest skins I've ever seen. Because of his wit and cleverness, I usually used him to demonstrated behavioral exercises when training new boys.

Next, I reached for one of the 'softer-belts' in my collection and secured the noose around my wrist. This 'beginners' belt, is designed to inflict a reasonable yet easily tolerable amount of pain, and is only used during the first training session. With a TTPTT (follow me) from my clicker, Sparky followed me, crawling on all fours behind me until we reached Milo's cubicle, No. 10, strictly adjacent to Chris' who was still fighting against his leash, holding the chain attached to his neck-cuff with both of his hands and pulling on it with all his strength, trying to cut loose, all the while screaming, shouting and probably swearing in Romanian 3; Your time will come, and you'll give me the best time of my life when I finally ride your wild ass, I thought to myself, secretly admiring the boy's determination.

Anyways, the first thing a boy-pet must learn is to completely forget his human name and get accustomed to respond solely to his pet name. Using Sparky as an example, I grabbed Milo by his hair and forced him to his knees, pointing out that he should watch his first 'Pet-Lesson' which focuses on teaching the boy his pet name and which pet-position he should take. Then, I stood up straight, facing Sparky; my hands cupped behind my back with the belt swinging down between my legs, and hailed the first command.

Roll Over, I roared at Sparky. Quick to respond, the boy swiftly lay down on his back and bent both his knees and elbows upwards, performing a DROB (dog-rolling-on-its-back) position.

Sparky!! I commanded. In a second, the boy rotated back up quickly kneeling down, assuming a DSHL (Dog-Standing-On-His-Hind-Legs) position. He paralleled his arms to both sides of his chest, bent his elbows so that his forearms were angled upwards, leaving his wrists and hands an inch away from his chin. He then brought his hands together until his thumbs barely touched each other, letting his palms and the rest of his fingers dangle loosely. Finally, he opened his mouth, dropped his tongue out, and began inhaling and exhaling orally in a short, rapid pace.

Good Pet, I said, caressing Sparky's hair as I eyed both Milo and Chris sternly, who both appeared to be astonished by the sight of a boy their age, acting like a dog.

Again, I repeated the same process with Sparky for three or four times, each time looking at Milo while pointing at Sparky so that he understands he should imitate the boy-pet. When I felt that the boy realized what he was supposed to do, it was time for his first test. I left Sparky in his kneeling position, knowing that he wouldn't dare move even if I left him there for hours like that, and faced Milo who was slightly shivering and weeping silently.

Roll Over, I commanded. Failed 3; The boy didn't move for more than three seconds, that's more than the time allowed for a pet to execute a command. Without any hesitation, I raised my arm and swished the belt down across the boy's thighs, giving him a first taste of what was yet to come. The now weeping openly child began to rub his thighs uncontrollably, that was another grave mistake, however he wasn't gonna be punished for it since he hasn't been properly trained yet, so I let it pass.

Roll Over, I commanded again. The helpless child, fearing another lash, had no choice but to comply. However, even though he executed my command, he wasn't fast enough to assume the position, which earned him another strike of the belt across his right arm.

Enraged, I grabbed him by his hair and forced him back to his knees, violently twisting his head until he was facing Sparky, who was still obediently kneeling. Again, I went over to Sparky and repeated the same process three times, this time however giving commands in a much faster pace thus forcing the boy-pet to execute them faster, in hopes that Milo would understand my hint at speed. When the demonstration was done, I went back to the new trainee for a second time.

Roll Over, I commanded. Pass 3; it seemed as if the belt has done its magic, as the boy correctly assumed the DROB position in an instant.

Milo, I commanded. Pass 3; he managed to perfectly assume a DSHL, complete with the rapid oral inhales and exhales. It seems as if he's a fast learner, I thought to myself. However, if he falls for the coming trick, he would find himself visiting the 'training room' very soon 3;

Roll Over, again, Milo complied without delay.

Pascha! I roared assertively, If he responds to the name he has carried for ten years, he won't sleep well on his back for a couple of days 3; I reflected. Instinctively and oblivious of the apparent trap, the poor child responded by assuming the DSHL again. However, he reacted to a human name which he no longer possesses nor have the privilege to use, ergo, he flunked the test and was therefore in a dire, dire situation 3; Without a moment of thought, I uncuffed the boy's neck and dragged him all the way to the 'training room'.

Keeping in mind that this would be Milo's first punishment, and in order to avoid causing the boy an irreparable psychological trauma, he had to be punished well enough to feel pain, yet not hard enough to cause any mental damage. Any radical punishments such as hanging him upside down, giving him a taste of the wheel or subjecting him to other 'advanced' devices had to wait 3; Alternatively, Milo's first experience would be with my ultimate instrument of choice for new-comers, 'The-Pony'.

Come over here you fucking twat 3; I said as I dragged Milo forcibly until I reached the fun device. Ruthlessly, I manhandled the boy onto the machine, secured the straps tightly around his limbs and fixed his head using the machine's arm. Satisfied that the boy has been installed and completely secured, I went back to the stable to fetch Chris.

Although I wasn't going to tame him just yet, I figured that it would do the boy good if he gets a good feel of 'The Pole', and since he's been such a pain, he unwittingly earned himself a first row ticket to the painful and graphic show that was about to begin shortly.

With a lot of struggling, hair pulling and a couple of slaps to his face, I finally managed to secure the mutinous boy, who was still wearing his sock and pants, to the restraining device. Normally, I wouldn't allow any of my pets to be wearing anything, however, since he was high spirited and completely wild and rebellious, I decided not to use excessive force which might eventually damage him, for the sole purpose of removing his clothes 3; there are other ways, and I'm a patient, methodical man. Not to forget that, what he was about to see would most probably break down his spirit 3; a bit!

Anyways, when Chris was nicely secured, I dragged and rotated the machine so that Chris's head would be facing 'The-Pony', thus, forcing him to watch the show. Now then my boy 3; watch and learn, I said to Chris, even though I knew he wouldn't understand a single word.

With a couple of aimless practice swings, I stepped close to Milo, assumed position and without a moment of thought, raised the belt menacingly high and cracked the first blow, slashing through the air and landing down on the boy's bare shoulders. As if he was suddenly electrocuted, the bound child let out a mighty scream as his body jolted uncontrollably against his many restraints, clenching his fists and wiggling his toes in pain.

There there 3; keep some of that strength for later you little bitch, there's 19 more to go 3; I mumbled as I lifted the belt again and dealt a second and a third blow, which landed across the middle of the boy's back and across his shoulders, respectively.

Picking up the pace, I began whipping the boy while spelling his new pet name letter by letter with each strike of the belt. M, I said as I went for the fourth blow. I, again with another blow. L, marked the sixth blow which actually missed its target and landed on the boy's butt, leaving an angry red mark. O, I shouted as the seventh lash found its way across the boy's back, from one end to the other 3;

Stopping for a second, I glanced at Chris and was delighted to see him drenched in tears, with an expression of fear eating at his face, a good sign that his will to fight would soon break down, or at least, in his unique case, weaken. A moment later, I turned my attention back to Milo as I moved on to administer three more lashes while shouting the boy's name out loud with every angry lash 3;

• – Milo 3; swish 3; Milo 3; swish 3; Milo 3; swish.

With half of the punishment nicely served, I placed the belt over the boy's back, humiliating him by using him as a table, and moved to the front of the machine to unscrew the head-supporting arm, which snapped down instantly. Consequently, as if he was completely limp and with no strength left in his body, Milo couldn't keep his head from instantly swinging down as it lost its support, eventually hitting his chin against the front side of the bench, causing another loud scream from the agonized child.

Next, I crouched down a little bit so that my face was in his line of sight, grabbed the boy's hair and pulled his head up so that his face was literally inches away from mine. With wide, furious, relentless eyes and an equally horrid expression, I looked the boy straight in his weeping red eyes and pointing to his lips with my thumb and index, I mumbled his name slowly as I imitated an opening and clothing mouth gesture with my fingers 3; Milo 3;Milo 3; in an effort to make him understand that I wanted him to say his own name. Smart enough, the boy swiftly understood and probably thinking that he would be off the hook if he complied, he pathetically stuttered his name, Milo.

Good 3; Good 3; now, you will say Milo every time I whip you boy 3; I blurted as I shook his head menacingly nearly pulling his hair off, all the while making whipping gestures in my other hand, pointing at his mouth and saying Milo. For his own sake 3; he should understand, and he did.

Letting go of the boy's head, I picked up the belt again and without a moment of delay, sent it down crackling against the boy's bare back. Once again, I grabbed the boy's hair and looked him in the eye, waiting until he finally understood the game. Milo 3; he mumbled between his sobs. Good boy 3; Good boy! I said excitingly.

Now that the procedure was clear, I let go of his head once more and landed another four lashes on the boy's body, each time, pausing to hear him say his name, which he did, albeit while crying, screaming and weeping.

The final five lashes had another purpose, now that it seemed he had learned his new name; he should completely forget his old, human name. With that motive in mind, I crouched in front of him once again and grabbed him by his hair. This time, I screamed NO Pascha 3; NO Pascha and shook his head left and right, to make him understand that it's a no. NO Pascha 3; I said one more time before assuming the whipping position once again 3;

This time, as I landed the 16th lash across the middle of the boy's back, I screamed PASCHA, and to my utter delight, the clever kid gathered all the strength he had left and in between his violent exhales, inhales and screams of pain, shouted out loud while crying violently 3; Milo 3; NO PASCHA 3; NO PASCHA 3; Milo.

Good BOY 3; Milo! delighted that he had obviously learned his lesson, I swiftly completed the boy's punishment with the three remaining lashes, although as a reward, I eased the strength and ferocity considerably.

When Milo's whipping session was over, I turned towards Chris who was also crying, clearly shaken by the show, and shook the belt menacingly, making him understand that if he doesn't behave, he would be 'The-Pony' next guest of honor.

As the first behavioral lesson was successful administered, I decided that it would be best to keep both boys comfortably bound for at least another couple of hours. However, I soften the straps around their bodies in order not to prevent blood circulation, turned off the lights, put Sparky back on the leash and went upstairs to take a nap.

Tuesday, October 28th, 2005 – 9.30 PM | The Hazards of Peanut Butter & Jelly

Milo's Behavioral Training
2: Free Will? Fowgetabawtit boy!

Completely relaxed after a long nap, I got up, fixed myself a mouth-watering PB&J sandwich and went down to check which kind of result, a lovely 5-Hour bondage session, did to my new guests. Since both boys needed to learn a new, crucial lesson on the way to become obedient boy-pets, I decided to play a fun little game with Milo, while Chris watches and hopefully learns from the upcoming activity.

Hello boys 3; feeling comfortable? I said tauntingly as I crouched in front of Milo, who was barely able to keep his screamingly red-eyes from all the crying, open. As per humiliation procedures, I grabbed the boy by his hair and pulled his head up, grinning at him as I took another bite from the deliciously smelling Peanut-Butter & Jelly sandwich.

Yum 3; yummmmm 3; you want some? I teased as I offered the boy a bite. As a result of almost 12 hours since he last had food or water, as well as the added effect of the beating he had received, the boy was apparently starving. Therefore, without any hesitation, he opened his mouth and as soon as his lip touched the sandwich, I yanked it away, laughing.

Again, I repeated this sick game which masked Milo's second pet-lesson, 'Eradication of Free Will' once, twice and three times, each time offering him the appetizing delicacy and yanking it away the second it reaches his lips until he finally surrendered. Growing aware that he's not getting any and that I was only playing a cruel game, he refused to open his lips the fifth time I offered the sandwich.

However, surrendering or refusal is a form of free-will, which is an exclusive human trait and should be eradicated from boy-pets completely 3; Nonetheless, and as a sign of good will, I decided to give the boy once last chance before he earns himself another penalty. Offering the sandwich for the sixth time, the boy disappointed me by insisting to keep his mouth closed, thus, wasting his only chance of avoiding another session of pain.

For this matter, I reached for The Pony's drawers and with the boy's ass in mind, took a rather wide leather belt. Soon, his inviting creamy-white butt-cheeks would be adorned and beautified by a set of red lash-marks intersecting and intertwining in a beautiful pattern, I thought to myself.

To make the boy understand that this punishment was for refusing my generous offer, I fixed his head using the machine's arm until his face was completely vertical, and shook the sandwich inches away from his lips for a couple of times while shouting YES which, I believe is an almost universal word for approval.

Then, copying what I did a couple of hours before, only much faster and with much more vigor, I assumed the whipping position and without wasting any time, I cold-heartedly landed twenty strong lashes across the boy's ass, with two or three seconds of delay between each and every stroke. The agonized boy's initial shrieks of pain and struggle against the restraints, progressively vanished after the tenth stroke until he was finally laying passively, waiting to be whipped, all the while whimpering, shivering, crying and sobbing silently.

Not quite satisfied when the initial whipping was over, I maneuvered the leg appendages to an extent where the boy's legs were painfully opened as his thighs nearly came horizontal to his torso, causing his cock, balls and ass to be beautifully exposed and conveniently accessible. Then, I reached for the drawers and produced four clippers, each weighing slightly less than one pound, and a small training dildo, moderately thin and around 5 inches [13 cm] in length.

Casually, I attached a clipper to each of the boy's earlobes, which forced him to resume his screams of agony and pain, caused by the metallic, heavy earrings with sharp teeth. Then, since the boy's lips were the main reason behind his punishment, it was only appropriate they would receive a good metallic bite as well. With that in mind, I attached another clipper at the middle of the boy's lower lip, causing it to dangle down painfully, completely revealing his lower gum and frontal teeth.

Finally, and since it was about time he starts feeling 'something' underneath his waist, I moved around, positioned myself between the boy's wide opened legs and without a warning, clamped the remaining clipper at the lowest part of his scrotum causing the already pained child to produce and ear-piercing shriek as he wiggled his entire body in a complete frenzy.

Being the considerate man that I am, I gave my precious pet a couple of minutes to get accustomed to the new additions adorning his beautiful body, as I took another bite of my sandwich, enjoying the melodic boy-voice which was beginning to fail, gradually fainting to a mere, barely audible whimper.

When Milo's struggling had eventually subsided to a complete stop, it only meant a perfect time to give him something new to enjoy, or scream about. Accordingly, I grabbed the training dildo and while eyeing an utterly terrified and beautifully bound Chris, I readied myself to insert the final toy.

A few moments of later, I gave Milo's ass a cheerful slap, parted the boy's red and sore butt-cheeks with one hand, positioned the tip of the plastic toy to his deliciously pink anus and slowly, methodically, began to force the intruder inside the boy's body.

In a perfect example of a boy's tolerance to pain and over all resilience, the once limp and agonized body came back to life with jolts and screams as the distressed boy began to feel inch after inch of the thick plastic intruder, digging painfully on his insides.

Good 3; good, it's better to feel tolerable pain now than to feel an 8'incher [20 cm] ravaging your intestines boy 3; I said in a tranquil voice as the last remaining inch of the dildo's shaft disappeared into its new, warm confinement. As I waited for the boy to get accustomed to what would be a regular thing in his coming years, I moved my attention to Chris.

As I crouched in front of the clearly petrified child, I repeated the same sandwich trick I did with Milo. However, and much to my disappointment, after 7 or 8 yanks, Chris also stopped cooperating, but since I had no time to fully deal with him, I hurriedly applied a pair of mean looking nipple-clippers to his erect little suckling treats and with a slap to his bound face, a swing of the belt over his chest, left him to reflect on his grave mistake.

Back to Milo, who was once again shuddering silently, I repositioned myself between his legs and reaching for the dildo's handle, I removed the intruder all the way out and then back inside until the handle bumped into the boy's cheeks. Content that the boy's moans were regaining momentum, I spent a good ten minutes fucking the young boy with the unpleasant plastic dildo, occasionally rewarding the widening anus with a few occasional slaps across the delightfully boy's butt-cheeks, beautifully ornate with screaming red whipping-marks.

As the second phase of the behavioral program came to an end, I took the dildo out, placed it back in the drawer and one by one, removed the weights from the boy's balls, ears and lip. Finally, I took what was left of my sandwich and tested Milo, who had unsurprisingly, learned a valuable yet painful lesson. Twenty yanks of the sandwich were enough to convince me that he had passed the test, and as a reward, I allowed him to enjoy one single bite.

While he was still chewing at his reward, I glimpses at my watch and noticed that it was already midnight, I must've lost track of time 3; training boys is fucking fun, I thought as I reflected on whether or not I should keep Chris and Milo comfortable in the training room. Suddenly, a nasty idea popped into my mind, why not give them both a rather easy and educational 'elective' lesson to end their first day of training?

NEXT PART