You Are Now My Property – Part 2

His bliss was quickly shattered when he heard a siren behind him. He looked in the rear-view mirror and saw a cop with his lights flashing. He looked down at the speedometer, and realized he’d gotten up to 80 mph. He jammed on his brakes, but he knew he was busted. He silently thanked God he’d put the top down so the car didn’t smell like weed. As he decelerated and pulled over to the side of the road, he let the joint fly out of his hand, hoping it would land on the road somewhere and the cop wouldn’t see it. It flew out of the car, but Eric didn’t see it fly back in and land on the back seat.

The cop car pulled over behind him and an imposing man got out and approached the Mustang. Eric smirked to himself that the guy looked like every stereotype redneck southern cop you see in movies, right down to his mirrored sunglasses. The cop approached and demanded Eric’s license and registration, telling him the local folks don’t take kindly to people recklessly speeding on their roads. The kid was about to hand him the documents when the cop said “Well, what do we have here?” Eric spun around and saw the cop reaching into the back seat to pick up the joint. “Get out of the car, son. NOW!”

Eric’s head was spinning from the effects of the pot and the growing feeling that he’d just gotten into deep shit. Despite all this, he still had a full hard-on (being 18 is a wonderful thing), and that noticeable wet spot on his shorts. He was too upset to notice his condition, but the cop sure wasn’t. He saw the front of the kid’s shorts, with the big bulge straining at the waistband, then looked at Eric’s muscular body and beautiful face, and he knew he’d found the one. He couldn’t suppress a smile as he cuffed the kid’s hands behind his back. Not a single car had passed by to see what was happening. As the cop led Eric to the police car, the kid’s head was down and he was so unsettled that he never noticed the other man getting out of the cop car and going over to get behind the wheel of the Mustang. The funny thing about rural Florida is that you can’t find one decent radio station, but you can find any number of swamps to roll a car into. The Mustang would never be seen again.

The cop drove silently for a few minutes, and Eric considered asking what was going to happen to him, but he thought better of it. “Just play it cool. Don’t do anything stupid and the old man will get you out of this,” he thought. Eric’s father was a high-powered lawyer, and had gotten the kid out of a few scrapes in the past. Eric dreaded calling him and telling him what had happened, but at least he’d take care of everything. They drove on in silence.

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The Auction

Winston Horton II started out that day like he did any other. Out of bed by five, twenty minutes on the Stair Master, shit shower and shave followed by the donning of his power suit, then two cups of coffee and one slice of dry wheat toast, and then an hour on the Internet before driving to his office.

His Internet ritual never varied; Email first, followed by the weather then the latest market listings, news, sports, and finally an online auction site that he monitored daily in search of rare and unique collectibles. He always clicked first on the newly listed items, and on that particular morning nearly shit his pants.

The picture that opened was that of a naked youngish man bent forward at the waist to allow an unobstructed rear view of his scrotum. The young man, or boy, or whatever he was had a small ruler wedged between his smoothly shaved thighs to give a reference to the size of his testicles. Beside it was a front view of the same young man. His legs were again spread and a hand was shown holding his cock up against a neatly trimmed pubic bush. The obvious heat in the room made the young man’s testicles hang luxuriously low and a single drop of perspiration hung like a pearl from a hair on the bottom of his scrotum. There were about a dozen other thumbnails that could be opened to full size pictures, but Winnie, as his few friends called him, ignored them to read the merchandise description.

“This auction is for two healthy disease free testicles that are currently on a nineteen year old adult white Caucasian. The winning bidder will have the privilege of removing or destroying them in whatever manner he chooses, with the stipulation that the removal must take place no farther than fifteen minutes drive from a medical facility. The auction price also includes ten days unrestricted use of the subject’s body, provided of course, that no other permanent injuries or scarring occurs. The minimum bid on this package is five hundred thousand dollars and the auction will run for one week only. Don’t miss this opportunity to expand your collection or to experience life’s ultimate power trip.”

Winnie opened a few more of the thumbnails and re-read the offering, and finally shed his Brooks Brothers coat and responded to the stirrings in his crotch. He unhooked his hand tooled leather belt, carefully lowered his sharply creased trousers and pushed his chair back to allow free access to his cock. He stroked slowly at first, taking the time to open another of the thumbnail pictures, them more rapidly as he began to ponder the possibilities, until he finally pumping with a speed and intensity that he’d last done as a teenager. His orgasm was like an explosion of white lava from a volcano, and having no towel or napkin in which to contain it, he abruptly stood up and turned to cast his pent up seed on the Persian carpet. He sagged back into his chair, breathing heavily, and was immediately disgusted by his adolescent act and also slightly pissed off that he was now running late.

He thought about the auction all during the drive to his office and he nearly ass ended the car in front of his before catching himself daydreaming. He could certainly afford to bid in the auction. He’d inherited several million dollars and had doubled that many times more developing and selling real estate. He had spent millions on his rather eclectic art collection and had no regrets in doing so. His wife had died many years ago and his only son had walked out of his life a year ago, right after graduating from High School.

He felt the acid boil in his stomach as he thought about that day. His son had been waiting for him, and as soon as Winnie came in the door Junior introduced him to a huge twenty-two year old black kid and announced that he and Ted were as of now life partners. Winnie’s idea of a good time didn’t include getting fucked in the ass or sucking dick, but he was tolerant of and respected other people’s peculiarities. He’d known for a long time that his son was different, but he’d assumed that the boy had enough sense to stay in the closet, get married, and produce an heir.

Winnie could have accepted a temporary liaison with a classmate but the kid went apeshit and fell in love with and older man, a nigger to boot. The memory of his delicate, fine boned son standing on his tiptoes to passionately kiss the nigger on the lips was still fresh in his mind, and the mere thought of what was probably a massive black cock pumping in and out of the smooth white ass that Winnie had at one time wiped, powdered, and diapered made him physically ill.

Junior also used that opportunity to drop another bombshell; he had no intention of going to any college, let alone the Ivy League school that Winnie had been grooming him for. Instead he and Teddy were moving to the South to ‘immerse themselves in the culture of the noble Afro-Americans by living in their traditional life style,’ whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. Winnie had no intention of leaving his only child completely out in the cold, and he’d prepared a generous stock portfolio that he intended to present to his son for a twenty-first birthday present. He felt certain that by then the boy would be tired of living in squalor and would come to his senses and ditch his nigger boyfriend in favor of a better life.

Winnie thought about the auction for a while before deciding that he’d have his lawyers do some research. He knew some people that had gotten stung by on-line auctions but nobody had ever gotten the best of Winston Horton, II on a  deal.

Several time zones to the East, Winston Horton, III and Teddy were awakened by the strident chirp of their alarm clock. Although it was late in the morning local time, it was their usual time to rise and shine. They smiled at each other, then rolled out of bed and strode naked to the toilet where they spent the next half minute first chasing a spider around the bowl with their  streams, then playfully mingling the streams to form a single splash as they emptied their bladders in what had now became a morning ritual. They finished and then washed and carefully dried their cocks off before returning to bed.

“So, Hortie, you think your old man saw it?” Ted said, spreading his legs slightly.

“Oh yeah, he saw it all right,” Hortie replied, licking the inside of Teddy’s recently shaved thighs and lifting the long black cock out of the way to gain full access to his plump balls. “He probably jacked off as soon as he saw it and blew his wad all over his keyboard.” He paused long enough to retract his partner’s foreskin and run his tongue around the end of the rapidly inflating cock. “I spent eighteen years listening to him talk about ‘getting people by their balls’ and ‘cutting them off at the pockets’, and just looking at that collection of what he calls art almost makes me sick. There’s no way he could ever miss out on something like buying a guy’s balls.”

“You sure he’ll do it?” Teddy was still a little doubtful.

“He’s probably got his lawyers checking it out right now,” Hortie rubbed a generous dab of lubricant along Teddy’s shaft. “ He’ll make sure it’s legal, then he’ll want some more pictures and details,” Hortie said, rising to his knees and bending forward to place his forearms on the bed. “It’s the way he always does business.”

“I sure hope so, Hortie. I sure hope so,” Teddy replied, dragging his cock down the slender white boy’s back and into the crack of the smooth, hairless ass. “I’d sure hate to have him slip the meat to us, you know?”

Winnie’s lawyers got back to him late that day, giving him their opinion that the purchase would probably be legal provided he verified the donor’s age and got a written permission slip authorizing him to perform the . Winnie wasted no time in sending off an email to the auction site requesting more information and also more pictures, preferable of the young man’s face.

“So Hortie, what’s next?” Teddy asked, coming up for air. Hortie was on his back, knees bent and feet in the air. Teddy was crouched in front of him and had been alternating between licking Hortie’s cock, balls, and asshole, sticking his supple tongue as far into the orifice as humanly possible.

“I won’t send him a picture of my face but we’ll watch the bidding and wait.” Hortie answered, now breathing hard. Teddy had been holding him right on the edge or orgasm for over an hour, and when he came it was going to be one of the best ones ever. He’d been with girls and a couple of other guys, but Teddy could excite him in ways that he’d never dreamed were possible.

“What if, you know, someone else wins?” Hortie asked.

“Won’t happen, lover,” Hortie answered, “Once he figures out it’s me, there’s no way he’d let anyone take his only son’s balls.”

“He was mad enough to nut both of us last year.” Teddy commented before sucking both of Hortie’s balls into his wide mouth and slipping his index finger into Hortie’s ass. Hortie’s answer was choked off by his explosive orgasm and it was a full five minutes before he could again speak.

“If Dad doesn’t win the auction,” he murmured, “we just walk away. As long as we don’t take anyone’s money there’s no harm done, right?”

The next day Winnie’s email in-box included mail from the administrator of the auction answering some  Winnie had posed to the young man attached to the testicles that he was bidding on. The young man was in desperate need of money, and being as how he was a dedicated ‘bottom’ in a committed relationship, he had no further use for his balls. He would gladly send more pictures of the merchandise but none of his face, nor would he include any clue to his identity either before or after the purchase and subsequent removal of the gonads. As a side note, the young man added that he’d also received a proposal from an Oil Sheik who had reportably performed many castrations and had a reputation for cruelty. The Sheik was offering a million one hundred thousand to end the auction early.

“Did he go for it?” Teddy asked Hortie later the next day.

“I didn’t set the hook yet,” Hortie replied, showing Teddy the final picture. “Once he gets this he’ll cave though, that’s for certain. He promised Mom he’d never lay a finger on me, and once he figures that it’s me that he’s bidding on he’ll pony up a million and a quarter to keep me out of the Sheik’s evil clutches.”

Winnie’s email the next day included another picture and a message from the owner of the goods to the effect that although he really wanted a million five he would end the auction early if the bidder was an American. Winnie thought about it a long time and then opened the attached picture. It wasn’t very different from the others; just a simple rear view of the boy on his knees with his hand around the neck of his scrotum, tugging the balls downward as if presenting them for inspection. Winnie looked at the picture, caught his breath, and then sent it to his Photoshop program so he could enlarge it. His first impression he had when he saw the hand that was around the scrotum was correct. Prominently displayed on the ring finger was his grandfather’s old class ring. The same ring that Winnie had presented to his son on the day of his high school graduation.

Later that same day Hortie received an email from BsVd8690, his father’s auction identifier. Included was a voucher for a round trip plane ticket from anywhere in the US to Portland, Oregon. It also contained a draft of the contract that Hortie would be required to sign and a list of explicit directions. Hortie was to fly to Portland and check into the Holiday Inn under the assumed name of William Rogers. The room was prepaid and the desk clerk would have a package for waiting for him, which included the contract, a leather hood, padded restraints for his hands and feet, and an account number and verification code for the offshore bank where the funds were on deposit. He would read and sign the contract, put on the hood and restraints, and fasten himself spread-eagle on the bed. The purchaser would then enter at precisely Noon, verify that the contract had been correctly executed, then consummate the deal, after which the purchaser would make the call releasing the money and summon an ambulance, if necessary.

“Jeez, Hortie,” Teddy said as they read the message, “he sounds pretty serious”

“I’ve seen it before,” Hortie answered. “It’s just the way he does business. Dot all of the I’s and cross all the T’s, that sort of thing. Don’t worry, it’ll all work out.”

“I’d just hate to lose these things,” Teddy answered, pulling Hortie’s shorts down and fondling the white boy’s balls, which he considered were as much his as Hortie’s.

Hortie ended the auction, much to the disappointment of the Sheik, and made preparations to travel. The next day he was in Portland, where he checked into the Hotel and went to the room to wait. The door opened exactly at noon and his father confidently strode into the room. “Shit!” I should have known that this would all be one of your schemes!” Winnie said, turning towards the door to leave the room.

“Dad, wait!” His son pleaded. “Yeah, it was kind of rotten, I’ll admit. But we really do need the money. If you won’t give it to me them I’ll just start the auction up again and let the chips fall where they may. Is that what you want?”

Winnie sat on the side of the bed and thought a long time before answering his son. “I promised your mother that I’d never lay a finger on you, and I guess that promise still holds. The money is yours. Take it and may it bring you happiness. There is one thing though.”

“What?” Hortie asked, elated that his plan had worked.

“Sign the contract,” Winnie said, taking the gold plated Parker from his pocket. “You can’t transfer the money unless I present the bank with the signed contract.”

“Okay,” Hortie answered, “Fair enough, I guess.” It always came down that way with his dad. Business first and foremost, everything else could wait.

“Okay, that’s that. I guess, but you could do one other thing for me.” Winnie said.

“What’s that?” Hortie was willing to bend a little, after all. He was now one and a quarter million dollar richer.

“Let me realize at least a little of my ,” Winnie pleaded. “Please, strip down and put on the restraints. Let me see what I missed out on.”

Goddamned old pervert, Hortie thought. And he has the nerve to think that I’m screwed up. Well, I guess he earned it. “Okay,” Hortie replied, shedding his clothing and fastening the manacles around his wrists and ankles. “Anything else.”

“Flop down on the bed, Winston, and let me look at you.” In a matter of seconds Winnie had clipped the restraints into the pre-installed eyebolts on the ends of the bed. He had to admit that his son had a magnificent body. He still had the inherent slimness and fine features of a youth. His flaccid cock drooped lazily over the large testicles that sagged heavily between his hairless thighs. Winnie couldn’t resist reaching out and gently grasping his son’s balls and rolling them around between his fingers and hefting them, as if comparing them to his own. His inspection of his son’s balls was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Dad!” Hortie said, suddenly embarrassed by his nudity and compromising position. Winnie ignored his son and went to answer the door.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” Winnie said cordially, as the Sheik entered the room. The Sheik merely nodded, then strode to the bed and looked at Hortie for a few minutes before reaching down and roughly squeezing the unprotected balls hard enough to elicit a cry of pain from the boy.

“Very good, Mr. Horton.” The Sheik’s English was impeccable. “The money is in this suit case. One million, five hundred thousand dollars, as agreed. Do you wish to count it?”

“There is no need, Your Highness, we are both men of honor.” Winnie replied, picking up the suitcase and heading for the door. After his son ended the auction Winnie had contacted the Sheik and sold the contact on his son. Subtracting the auction’s commission he’d cleared slightly under two hundred thousand dollars. Not bad for a few hours work. Perhaps his son, once free of the aberrant hormones that ruled his body, would ditch the jungle bunny and return to school and get his degree. Hell, with the kind of money he now had he could even get his Masters.