Leonard

Upstairs, Downstairs
at the Boyagio

Chapter 3

Author's note: This chapter is an ebb in the rhythm of the story, and quite different from Chapter 2. It maintains the same theme of "boy used as object against his will", but rather than constant sex, it focuses on David's state of mind and what this world is doing to him. (It is also significantly shorter.) There is still some sex, but not nearly as much. You will also learn much more about the Boyagio.

POSITION AVAILABLE

THE BOYAGIO, a luxury resort specializing in courtesan boys, is seeking a Lead Doctor to coordinate care.

ABOUT THE COMPANY

The Boyagio is the premiere luxury resort for boy-centered vacations. Known around the world for our beautiful Pleasure Boys and our flawless service, we have over 650 guestrooms and own over 850 boys. Our mission is to create dream experiences for our customers. Pleasure Boys are expertly trained not just for sex, but also for numerous fantasies from the general to the specific. Our main entrance is on the Exotic Strip, but our grounds extend back for several acres allowing not just for guest rooms but also for numerous special entertainment areas.

The Boyagio prides itself on a high level of service that can only be maintained with healthy and fundamentally functional boys. For the bulk of our Pleasure Boys, strict rules ensure that they are not excessively harmed by their customers, although customers may get carried away. Additionally, some of the boys have been relegated to the East Wing for customers whose tastes run to more extreme measures, and these boys require regular and often substantial medical attention. Moreover, those boys on their first night at the Boyagio are often subjected to relatively brutal treatment again requiring additional care.

ABOUT THE POSITION

The Lead Doctor will coordinate care for the 850 boys in the facility. Specific responsibilities include:

• Supervise a staff of two part-time assistant doctors and five nurses.
• Develop procedures for boys and staff to ensure their health and safety.
• Perform regular checkups on all boys, including regular testing for STDs.
• Supervise treatment for boys who are injured or become ill.
• Maintain medical equipment and supplies.
• Review mandatory STD screenings sent in by first-time customers before their visit.
• Maintain admitting privileges at a nearby hospital.

REQUIREMENTS

All applicants should have:

• An MD degree and license in good standing.
• Certification in pediatric care. Experience with gastroenterology a plus.
• At least five years of experience in pediatric care.
• Experience managing a staff, inventorying supplies, and procuring supplies.
• Willingness to treat East Wing boys who may have suffered substantial abuse regardless of moral objections.

Experience with sexual relationships with boys is a plus.

SALARY AND BENEFITS

Salary is highly competitive and will be commensurate with experience. You can expect to earn about 10% more than a hospital salary for a comparable position.

Benefits include three weeks' paid vacation, full medical and dental, and a generous retirement plan. In addition, you will have access to the resort's Pleasure Boys during non-peak times, and you will receive substantially discounted room costs for last-minute bookings when openings are available.

NON-DISCRIMINATION STATEMENT

The Boyagio is an equal opportunity employer. We do not discriminate on the basis of race, religion, color, age, sex, national origin, gender identity, disability status, or protected veteran status. We do not discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation but do give preference to those who have sexual experiences with boys because of its relevance to the position.

- Job posting from about two years ago

Paul, the third boy who had been detailed to assist David on his first night, had finally returned from his unexpected engagement with David's first customer of the night. He, Mark, and Gustavo wheeled David through the corridors. David was barely conscious. His head kept lolling to the side, then snapping up as he was pulled awake. It was past noon and the brutally abused boy had not slept or rested since the previous morning.

"You ok?" Gustavo asked Paul as he pushed the wheelchair. "You're limping a bit."

"Aw, fuck," said Paul. "I thought I was covering it up better than that. The guy was rough, he was so lubed up by David."

"You were there this whole time?" asked Mark.

"Ten hours. He slept, woke up every so often, fucked. Hit me around a little bit. Didn't use lube and that's why I'm limping."

"You gonna report him?"

"Eh, he tipped well," said Paul. "I'll be fine. Besides, not using lube isn't really something they'll care about."

"Sure," replied Mark.

"Also the guy snored. I hate the ones who snore. I'm totally exhausted."

"Yeah, well, us too," replied Gustavo.

"He smelled too. He was like sweaty or something from fucking David."

"All right, Paul, that's enough," said Mark.

They entered back into the room David was becoming so familiar with, the kitchen/locker room where he was fed and given Gatorade and showered between each customer. "Oh God," mumbled David, barely audible, "another one?"

Mark and Gustavo looked at each other, startled that the boy was awake. Gustavo laid a hand on David's shoulder. Mark leaned down and said, "It's over."

David's head tilted at odd angles. It took a while for Mark to realize that David was shaking it, or trying to shake it. "But it's not, isn't it?" slurred David.

Mark swallowed. "It is for now. You're going to a doctor."

"Can he get me out of here?"

"No," said Mark. "He works for the resort."

They entered one of the doors in the back of the kitchen, going through another corridor. It was a private area with just resort staff, boys (in their hotel outfits) mingling with back-office men and women. Eventually they reached what looked like a small doctor's office. Mr. Johnston, the Boyagio's owner, was there with a man in a doctor's lab coat.

"Oh fuck," said the doctor when he saw the beaten boy. "Get him up on the table." The boys moved him up, and the doctor immediately started prodding the boy, looking for fractures or other damage. David was in a haze, barely conscious of his surroundings.

"Report, boys," said Mr. Johnston.

The three boys stood up at attention. "All eleven visits completed successfully, sir," reported Mark. "He was in a wheelchair after the last one, but he made it."

"Good," said Johnston. "What were they?"

"Two bondage sessions. Four gangbangs, one with what looked like some pretty rowdy college students. He came back pretty bruised from that one. Five non-bondage solos, the first of which still seemed pretty rough."

"I see whip marks, lots of bruising, and some residue from electrical shocks. Anything else I should know about?" asked the doctor.

"I saw bleeding from his ass on multiple occasions," reported Gustavo. "Also, a lot of cock and ball, I think."

"Yeah, no kidding," replied the doctor. "What did he ingest?"

"Lots and lots of cum…" mumbled Mark.

"Boys!" said Mr. Johnston sharply. "Stay focused. You know what the question meant."

Mark sighed. "Sorry, sir. He didn't talk about it in detail, but we think he was made to eat whatever came out of his ass after his first fucking."

"Some coffee, too," said Gustavo.

"Right," said Mark. "Yeah, he was fed some coffee. I think that's it."

"I'm putting him on an antibacterial just in case." The doctor paused a moment. "There's some serious internal bleeding. Says here he was a virgin?"

"Almost definitely," said Mark. "He didn't know anything."

"Will he be all right?" asked Mr. Johnston, turning to the doctor.

"You know I've told you before these first nights shouldn't be so rough on the boys."

"Doctor Lee," said Mr. Johnston, "will he be all right?"

"He's a tough one," said Lee, running his hand along the unconscious boy's stomach. "He'll make it. Probably several days in bed on fluids, I want to keep his bowel movements to a minimum. I'm going to keep him sedated for two days at least. He'll be sore for a long while, and the whip marks should fade in about a week, maybe two. He'll be functional for training."

"All right. You three boys, you'll help Doctor Lee and keep David company when you're not on duty. Mr. Simmons will be talking to you about managing and recording David's recovery. Doctor Lee, keep me updated on David's progress."

Doctor Lee nodded. Mr. Johnston turned to the boys. "You did well tonight, boys. He made it through 11 sessions, and we made a lot of money. Good work." With that, he turned around and left.

While the three boys awkwardly stood around, the doctor spent some time futzing over David's sleeping body. He put IV lines into David's arms and did a second check for wounds. When he was done, he just stood in front of the boy and ran a hand over his stomach. The doctor's fingers ran gently across the welts and bruises. "He is a nice one," the doctor mumbled. He let his hand linger on David's crotch a moment, then pulled away, shaking his head. Not on a patient, he thought to himself. Finally, he sat down in a chair and let out a huge sigh.

"They push you boys too hard here," he said to the three scantily-clad boys who were standing around. "More than that, this place is just wrong. We shouldn't let it happen."

For a moment, no one else spoke. Then: "You… help them to do it, sir," said Mark rather boldly.

The room was silent. Mark himself was astonished at his own words. Talking back to one of the staff! David's situation must have really gotten to him, and now he might get in trouble for it…

Gustavo and Paul stared at Mark, but Doctor Lee chuckled to himself, and then he turned suddenly quiet and reflective. "I do," he said. "I'm sorry, but God help me, I do." Mark looked down to see the bulge in the doctor's pants.

"When he heard you were a doctor, he asked us if you could get him out of here."

The doctor nodded. "Of course he did. That's what he thinks doctors are for." He seemed lost in thought for a while. The boys, who had not been dismissed, still stood there. Doctor Lee turned to look at David, whose wounded belly was rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of sleep. His eyes traced along the contours of that small body, extended along the bed.

"Boy," he said, "what's your name?"

"Mark, sir."

He nodded. "The other two can go. Resume your normal work, but tell your supervisors that Mr. Johnston authorized you to help me out here when you're not with a customer and that I need you starting tomorrow morning. Come back then."

The boys nodded and started heading out. Mark gulped. Doctor Lee leaned back, eyes closed. He was so tired. There was David to care for, several more boys in the East Wing, and now there was apparently going to be a party tonight that would require special attention. So many injured boys. When he took this job, he told himself he was helping them. What bullshit.

"Mark," said the doctor at last, "would you care to open my fly?"

Mark nodded and shrugged, standing up from where he was sitting. It was better than the trouble he thought he might have been in.

"It's been a long night," said the doctor. "Let's get some release. Let's get some release. That's all we need." Soon, the boy's soft mouth was generously wrapped around the doctor's pulsing cock.

For a few minutes, at least, Doctor Lee could empty his mind of all his worries and qualms and doubts. He could close his eyes, and lean back, and let his body run with the all-encompassing ecstasy of Mark's blowjob. He could have his precious moments of solace at the expense of this child, until finally he pumped his cum down the boy's throat in a final moment of release. Of course, with his orgasm all his misgivings flowed back to his troubled mind.

Doctor Lee, sated but unsatisfied, got up to tend to his patient. Mark, still kneeling, wiped a strand of cum off his chin and then stood up, waiting for what the doctor would tell him next.

***

For three days, David moved in and out of consciousness. He heard only occasional words in his delirium, and they echoed around in his mind. "There's still some internal bleeding," he heard at one point. "Marks on his abdomen will take a while to heal." "Good word of mouth from customers." "Ready for training soon."

When David first regained consciousness, it was three days after his first night. He moaned softly, and he tried to turn sideways in the hospital-like bed, but he was prevented by his restraints. Slowly, his eyes started to open.

"Wha?" he mumbled, still half-asleep. "Wha' hap'n'd?" He seemed to close his eyes again, still not fully conscious. "Mommy?"

"Nah," came the voice of a child. Gustavo.

"Nnnnnnnnn," moaned David. Sedatives were still being flushed from his blood stream. His eyes were still shut.

Gustavo prodded David with his finger. "Wake up, kid."

David slowly came awake and came to himself. His eyes gently opened. His whole body ached in ways he never knew he could. Gently, he tried to stretch, to work the sleep out of his boy's muscles, and he discovered that his arms and legs were shackled. Suddenly panicked, he tried to pull on them, struggling to get free.

"Whoa, whoa," said Gustavo, who was now standing next to him.

David's eyelids finally rose and stayed open. His head turned abruptly, first to the left, then to the right, as, wide-eyed, he took in the room. For a moment his eyes settled on Gustavo. And then he let out a huge scream, a "WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" that shook the room. Over and over again he screamed. Gustavo just stood there, patiently. At one point another boy came into the room.

"What happened?" said the boy.

David screamed, "get me out of here!"

Gustavo just shrugged. "New kid woke up, poor guy."

The kid nodded. As David looked at him, eyes wide, face flush, stomach rising and falling with each deep breath, the kid simply said, "Chill out, dude. It won't help." Then he was out.

"Oh god oh god oh god," said David.

"It's true," said Gustavo gruffly. "Your parents really did sell you. You really are here."

"Th…they wouldn't," sobbed the boy.

"Yeah, I know, but they did. Parents would never sell their kids, except when they do. You've just gotta deal with it," replied Gustavo. David's eyes were closed, and he was slowly shaking his head back and forth. "David," continued Gustavo, "I can take those shackles off once you show you can be calm. Now try to stay still? I have to put this ointment on to help heal your wounds."

"Let me go!" said the boy.

Gustavo sighed, then reached over and took out a squeeze bottle with a greasy salve in it. After shaking the bottle, he shook some out onto his hands and then he started gently running them along David's chest, massaging the gooey gel into the bound boy's skin. It was hard to describe Gustavo's touch as a caress, exactly. There was gentleness to it, but it was gentleness meant to avoid harm, not to show affection. The gel felt cold to David, a coldness running along his body.

"Stop it," said David.

Gustavo's long and thin boy-hands curved slowly around David's chest, supple fingers following the curve of the ribcage. "Look here, new boy," said Gustavo. "There are a few things you should know, and the first is that you are owned by Mr. Johnston and the Boyagio." There was a glossy sheen now along the upper part of David's torso, along his breasts and nipples and his armpits, held exposed by David's bonds. David felt the cool bite of the salve as it spread into his wounds. "Your body, it's theirs. Everything about you is theirs until you turn fourteen. If you turn fourteen. So when they tell me to rub this stuff in your wounds, I'm going to rub it in and I don't give a fuck what you think, and neither do they, and neither should you." The slightly-older boy's hands went again over David's chest, carefully pushing the salve into David's welts.

"Please, stop," said David.

"Second," said Gustavo, "playing the sympathy-little-boy's card doesn't get you anything anymore." As David's breathing intensified, Gustavo ran his hands down, over the curve of David's stomach. That soft, gentle stomach rose and fell with each labored breath the prone boy took, and still those hands ran over it, incessantly, sliding back and forth along that smooth skin.

"Uhhhh" moaned David, as hands rubbed his tender skin, spreading gel over his half-healed wounds. His stomach, too, started to shine in the light as the salve set in. He felt each draft keenly, a pronounced coldness against his greasy, shining skin.

"I'm serious," said Gustavo. "Looking helpless doesn't get you anything, except it makes some guys want to fuck you harder. So use it with customers sometimes, but know what you're gonna get, you know what I mean?"

Still Gustavo's hands ran back and forth along David's stomach, slowly working the thick ooze into him. "Third," continued Gustavo, "pull it together. When they take you for training, you do things right, you hear me? If they're not pleased, they send you to the East Wing and believe me, you don't want that." Gustavo reached over to get more ointment.

"You've got a nice body," he said. "I guess everyone they buy older has a nice body. But you could really have a decent future here." Holding the tube aloft over David, Gustavo left a dollop on each of David's thighs, then one on each of his knees, then another on each of his shins.

"My parents wouldn't leave me!" said David. "They wouldn't!"

"I'm telling you, new boy. You've gotta get over it." Gustavo reached down, using one soft hand to spread the gel out along David's skin. He ran both hands together all around David's right thigh, spreading the stuff from David's crotch most of the way to his knee, hands running all around the thigh, lifting it lightly off the table. David gasped a little bit as the hands slid along his sensitive inner thighs. Gustavo smiled. "You're gonna make a lot of horny dudes really happy if you're that sensitive, new boy."

The hands moved slowly, ceaselessly, relentlessly over David's body. He felt each dollop of goop, each bit of the salve spread, massaged into him. His right knee and then his left knee. Slowly the hands slid along his right thigh, his left thigh. His calves. His feet, and Gustavo took care to rub it in between all his toes and on the sensitive soles of his feet. Then the experienced child moved up, going to David's arms that were stretched straight out by David's bonds. Drops of the salve were placed on each arm, and then they too were massaged into David's skin, slowly, deliberately. He could feel the layer of oil as it spread over his bound body.

Gustavo went up to David's head and pressed a lever. David's wrists were bound to some mobile arms, and they suddenly fell loose, allowing the boy some freedom of motion. "Turn over," said Gustavo. David meekly complied. Soon, the bound boy was laying on his stomach.

Who knows what finally triggers us to break, to understand the reality of our situation? For David, it was that moment, the moment that he complied with the order to turn over. Emotions burst out from the bound boy. David sobbed quietly, his body rocking back and forth gently with each cry, his back pushed up and down by his rapidly expanding and contracting belly. Gustavo's hands flowed along David's back, his butt, his neck, working the salve into those wounds too.

In turning over, David did not even resist what Gustavo had told him. David had simply submitted. David might not have had the language, but that was when the child realized that his will was broken. That he could no longer resist what others told him. He was a slave not just because he was threatened or hurt or controlled, but because he had given up. Because he let them subjugate him.

"Turn over," said Gustavo, and David obeyed without argument. He just cried.

Gustavo stepped up near David's head. David was looking away, avoiding eye contact. He was ashamed and he felt weak. Gustavo reached out, grabbed David's chin and turned his face to look back. "Look, new boy," he said, "they left you. I don't know why. Maybe it was the money, maybe they just didn't love you that much. My mom sold me two weeks after I was born. There are poor fucks who do that, have kids just to sell them, make some money. Mr. Johnston paid to keep me in an orphanage he basically runs until I was old enough to come here and work. That was when I turned four. So fucking pull it together."

A smudge on David's cheeks glistened where Gustavo had held him. The boy was still sobbing, and Gustavo was staring at him. Finally, nine-year-old Gustavo, seemingly ancient in his experience, relented a little bit. "I know it sucks. But it is what it is, and you can make a life here."

The prone boy, restrained in the bed, glistened in the light of the room. That was about when Mark entered, looking tired.

"You put on the ointment?" asked Mark.

"Yeah," said Gustavo.

"Both sides?"

"Yeah."

Mark nodded. "Great."

"You all right?" asked Gustavo.

"I'll be fine. It's been hard sleeping."

"You need to chill, dude."

Mark sighed, and looked over David's body. "I know," he answered.

David started sobbing then. "I'm a good boy!" he said. "This is a mistake!"

Gustavo sighed. "David, cut it out."

"But tell them! Tell them I'm a good boy! I always, I always do my homework, and I always clean my room, except for that one time, and everyone always said I was a good boy… just tell them, so they stop punishing me, I'm a good boy!"

"David…" started Mark.

"Tell them!" screamed the boy. "Tell them! Tell them my parents love me and want me back! I… Tell them!" He was straining at his restraints, pulling uselessly on them, oiled body flexing to try to pull out.

"What do we do?" whispered Mark to Gustavo, as the boy kept struggling, yelling "Tell them!" and "This is wrong!" and "I'm a good boy!"

"We've gotta wait it out," said Gustavo.

"I go to church every week!" said the tied and naked boy. He pulled with his bare feet against his ankle restraints. "I made Christmas cards for everyone in my class! I'm a good boy!"

"Is it always like this?" asked Mark.

"This is pretty normal," replied Gustavo. "What'd you do when it was you?"

"I don't remember," answered Mark.

"I know I mess up sometimes, but I don't mean to," said David, starting to sob again. "I know I hid those cookies in my room the one time. And I stole Josiah's homework to copy it, but just twice. And I blamed Seth for breaking the PlayStation… oh God, Seth, Seth, help me!" David was remembering his brother now, the brother who was supposed to be here instead of him, who had willingly offered to go… did he know? Did Seth know what it would be? Did he know where David was going? Did his parents?

Gustavo walked up to David's side.

"I'm a good boy," repeated David more quietly, "tell them, tell them I'm sorry for whatever I did wrong, I'm sorry, they can stop hurting me, I'm sorry…"

"David," said Gustavo sternly, cutting him off, "it doesn't matter. There are good boys and bad boys here. That's not why you're here."

"But…" said David, "but why?"

"Because your parents sold you. They needed the money."

"They wouldn't do that!"

Mark walked up, and said softly, "maybe they didn't have a choice. You're helping them by being here. You're saving them."

"I can't, I can't," wailed the boy, "I can't anymore. I can't."

"It's done, David. You're here."

"But it's not fair! It's not fair! I'm a good boy! Why would they put me here?"

"Because," said Gustavo, "people want to have sex with you."

"I don't want to have sex!"

"They are bigger and stronger than you," said Gustavo, "and they have more money. Did you want to go to school?"

"N-not really," said David. "I mean, it was fine."

"This is like that. Adults making you do things because it's what they want. It's not fair for any of us, but we're all here."

The boy quieted. He lay there, shivering.

"David," continued Gustavo, "you know you can't leave here, right? You understand that, right?"

David nodded.

"So if I let your shackles loose, will you stay calm? Not do something stupid?"

"All right," said David in a whisper. A sense of defeat washed through him. Again he'd agreed not to fight this place. Again he'd given in. He felt less and less human with every passing moment.

Gustavo undid David's ankle braces, and his wrists, and the one around his neck. "C'mon, let's sit up," said Mark, and he held the boy's shoulders as David started to rise.

"Ahhh!" shrieked the boy.

"I know it hurts," said Mark, "but the doctor said you could sit now."

Slowly the boy rose, face contorted in pain, but he did it. Eventually he was sitting, legs dangling over the edge of the bed, bare feet suspended above the floor.

"Nice," said Mark. He came up, sat next to David, his own legs dangling over the edge. Mark nodded to Gustavo, and Gustavo nodded back. Then he left.

"How do you feel?" asked Mark, now sitting next to the naked child.

David shrugged.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" asked Mark.

"It hurts," said David. "Everything hurts."

"Yeah," said Mark.

"And… and I don't know… how can I… do that… again…"

"It gets better," said Mark. "When I got here, it was the same. I was auctioned off. I didn't know anything that first night, and I got used by a lot of people."

"It felt like…"

"Like you're a toy."

"Kind-of," said David. "Worse than that. One of the men, they said that with toys, at least people care about them. But not with us."

Mark seemed to take a deep breath. "It's not like that. Not exactly. Some of the customers care about us. A lot of them do." He paused a moment, and smiled. "I actually get toys from a lot of them."

"Toys?"

"Yeah, like action figures and stuff. Good toys, I have like more than I had when I was with my parents."

"That's cool, I guess," replied David.

"This is hard to explain. Like… I mean, yeah, I always wish I was at home with my parents…" Mark had to stop, take a second to compose himself. "But it's not so bad."

"How can this be not so bad?" asked David. "It was the worst thing I've ever felt. Like, not even close."

"I don't know how to explain it," said Mark. "A lot of them are nicer, and you get training. You do your work, you get rewards. It works out."

David just stayed silent.

"I've gotta run to the bathroom," said Mark. "I'll be right back."

***

Mark left David alone for a few minutes. He walked down the hallway and into a nearby room, a kind of video studio. There was a giant control panel with dials for video and sound, and a red-headed man in his 20s sat at the controls. On all the monitors were different views of the room, with David's naked body prominently featured in the camera views. One zoomed in on the boy's tiny cock.

"How's it going?" asked Mark.

"Good," said the man. "Good. You've got him facing one of the cameras, so we've got a really great look at him. And we got some nice footage so far, that other kid, what was his name?"

"Gustavo?"

"Yeah, he was putting that lotion on David's body, that looked really good, and David was tossing and turning in his sleep, I bet that'll sell really well to the sick guys who fucked him his first night. You also got him to open up really well, that was good. The two of you sitting there next to each other, it's super cute."

"Great," said Mark, listlessly.

"Hey," said the man, "maybe you could, like, hold him on his shoulder or something. Just a bit of contact, you know? Let the men imagine what might happen."

"I don't think he'll like to be touched," said Mark. "Not after his first night."

"Try it, kid, just try it."

"All right," said Mark.

"Listen, you should get him to talk about what happened to him. Like, really to open up about it. These guys love hearing boys talk about what it was like to be fucked by them." The man seemed to get more excited. "I bet he'd get super sad, which looks great on camera."

"I dunno if he wants to talk about it," said Mark.

"You can get him to," said the man. "He trusts you."

"Yeah," said Mark.

"Hey, don't worry, you're doin' great."

"All right," said Mark, quietly.

For a minute, the two just stood there, man and boy. They watched David on the camera, his head hung low, his feet dangling. Mark had never identified with someone else like this, with someone else's pain.

Every motion of David's child-like body was caught on camera. The way he shifted uncomfortably at the pain in his abdomen. The way he looked around the room, wide eyes taking in the white hospital-like walls. The way his fingers curled along the side of the thin hospital mattress, and then how he ran his hands along his skin, feeling the welts, the bruises. The young child was feeling out his body, getting a sense of what state it was in now. He pushed a little on a bruise, and his face winced in pain. His bare feet and legs dangled in the air, and he kicked them listlessly, letting them swing back and forth.

"You should go back," said the red-headed videographer.

"Yeah," said Mark. He started to head out.

"Hey," said the videographer as he was leaving.

"Yeah?" asked Mark.

"See if you can get him to spread his legs a bit more. It's hard to get a good view."

"Yeah, ok."

Mark left, and returned to David's room.

***

"Hey," said Mark, as he came back in.

"Hey," said David.

Mark pulled himself up to the side of the bed again.

"What's going to happen next?" asked David.

"You're gonna be here a few more days," said Mark. "The doctor says you have to heal more. Then training."

"What's that like?"

"Uhhh… you learn how to have sex."

"What does that mean?"

"It means they teach you… I mean, everything. Like, how to take a cock deep in your mouth and give good oral, and up the ass, and how to get a man excited, and how to kiss, that sort of thing."

David looked away. He was trying to face the fact that this was his life now. Being used for sex was his life. He was going to be trained and then he was going to do it, like this other kid, Mark. He knew he wouldn't fight it, not really. He found himself struggling again with tears, and it just made him feel weaker, younger, more powerless.

"Hey, it's not so-"

"DON'T SAY IT'S NOT SO BAD AGAIN!" yelled David.

"Sorry," said Mark. He reached out a tentative hand, trying to put it on David's shoulder as if to comfort him. David pulled away. Mark didn't push.

The two boys sat there, silently.

"David," said Mark, "why don't you tell me what it was like?"

"What do you mean?"

"What that night was like."

"I don't want to," said David.

"C'mon," said Mark. "Tell me what happened. It… it can help."

David shook his head mutely.

"What was the first one like?" pressed Mark. "Mr. Masgar? He was mean with you?"

"They were all mean!" said David. "Most of them."

"But Mr. Masgar? The first one?"

"He hit me!" wailed David. "He hit me and he put his fingers up my butt and there was nothing I could do. He was just too strong." David had started sobbing, his eyes closed, his head down. "I tried to be strong. I tried to stop him and I couldn't. I tried. I didn't want to do it but I couldn't stop it." He was crying, his whole body shaking as the words tumbled out of him.

Mark reached over and put his hand on the naked boy's shoulder. There was no reaction, and with a bit of a tug David fell against Mark, his face buried in Mark's chest, crying into the other boy.

This is going to sell really well, thought Mark, guiltily.

"He just kept doing it," David cried into his (supposed) friend's shoulder. "And then he put his… his…"

"His cock," supplied Mark.

"His cock up my butt and it felt…"

"It felt like it was tearing you apart."

"Yeah," said David. "It hurt so much. It was… nothing's supposed to be up there! And he smelled!" David's toes curled as he remembered the pain, as he relived it, lying there against Mark's body.

"You're doing great, David," said Mark. "You're doing great."

"Everything felt wrong, it was inside me and things shouldn't be there… and then it started to jump around, and I know now that he was putting his white stuff inside me…"

"Cum," said Mark.

"Cum," said David, "and then he pulled it out and now that hurt, even taking it out hurts, and it still hurts, and… and… and he made me lick it. He made me lick my own poop and blood and stuff and that white stuff and it tasted so bad and I didn't want to do it but I was scared and crying like I'm crying now and I couldn't tell him no and I couldn't be brave and I just did what he told me. I just did what he told me. I couldn't stop it." David's voice was broken by the tears and the remembered pain.

With one hand, Mark comforted David. With the other, the child reached down, crept his hand toward David's thigh. He sighed a deep breath as he pulled the thigh further out, fully exposing David's cock to the camera. The crying boy didn't seem to notice.

"Why was I so weak?"

"You weren't," said Mark. "He was a man. We have to do what they tell us."

"But I didn't want to!"

"But we're slaves," said Mark. "We're slaves." He paused, took a breath. "So then what happened? Then we picked you up, right?"

"Yeah," said David. "After I'd, after he'd made me, after… after I'd…"

"Sucked."

"Sucked on it. On his c-cock. After I'd cleaned it with my tongue and it was so disgusting."

"And we brought you to the next customer?"

"Yeah."

"What was he like?"

And so David told the story. He told it to himself, and to Mark, and to the people who'd just fucked him who'd buy the video, and maybe some pedophiles later who got interested in his story.

In fact, five years later, they'd probably still be selling this video. David would be 12, 13, still a slave at the Boyagio and now going through the very start of puberty. (Entirely organic food helps delay it a little bit.) Some men who'd fucked him for the first time would get an e-mail asking them, "want to know what David was like way back when?" And they'd be curious to see that same kid five years earlier, what he was like when he was totally prepubescent and smaller and innocent, and they'd pay the money to watch this very scene. To see their fuckee when he was even younger.

***

"That felt awful," said Mark. David had been out of tears by the time he was done, and he docilely went back to bed when Mark laid him down and put on the restraints.

"Yeah," said Gustavo. "Was it good?"

"Yeah," said Mark. "It'll sell. He was crying and talking about how powerless he was, and he curled up against me, too. He even sucked his thumb at one point while I was stroking his hair."

"Fuck," said Gustavo. "You should get a cut as tip money!" Mark snorted. "Make up for the customers you're losing," added Gustavo.

The edited video would have the stories he told of his first night as well as David's whole recovery and training. From past experience, almost everyone who paid so much money for that night with David would happily pay another hundred dollars to see what the boy really thought about it and how he recovered. It would continue to sell for years, for anyone who was curious what David really thought about his virgin night.

"He doesn't even know he's being taped," said Mark.

"Of course not," said Gustavo. "Did you?"

"No," said Mark.

Of course, the Boyagio had cameras everywhere. Although most of the boys didn't know the full extent, by now, customers could buy videos of Gustavo from birth up through his current age nine. They could watch his first time giving oral sex as a baby, his first ass fuck, his introduction to the Boyagio. They could see him grow up, get more confident. They could see moments captured when he bragged about his skill at giving oral sex, or the crude jokes he made, or scenes taken from customers who consented to be taped in exchange for a free fuck or three. They could see the times he had sex with other boys, or the times he masturbated himself, or the times he played with toys, or the times he cried secretly to himself in his bed. There weren't just videos of Gustavo; there were videos of every really popular boy at the Boyagio, of their private moments, their growing up, their sex and sexual discoveries. There were video compilations, too. You could see collected videos recorded with boys after they lost their virginity, or of the moment they were sold into slavery. If people bought it, the Boyagio made it.

***

David lay there later that day, running over it all in his head. He hadn't wanted to talk about it, but Mark kept asking, and he thought, maybe it would help. Maybe it would help to talk about what it felt like to be raped. To be raped by one man, by three men, by four men, by six men. To be whipped and electrocuted. To have nothing else in your life but the pain, the pain and the knowledge that someone else controlled you, controlled you completely, everything about you, one hour at a time. One hour at a time.

Oh God, thought David, that was all one night. One. Night. How many more nights are there going to be? Hundreds? Thousands?  I can't do it again! David lay back down on the bed and he descended again into crying and tears, tears that just amplified his shame and sense of weakness.

It was a profound sadness, more real than anything he'd felt before. His whole body shook with it. Tears flowed down his face unchecked, and his face was scrunched up red as if the emotions wanted to explode outward. A few days ago, he would have said he was too old to cry. But now he might as well have been two years old. The realization of where he was coursed through his body, overwhelming him. All he did was experience the sadness, feel it in his bones, in his soul, in his spirit. He cried, and wailed, and let it all fly out of him.

After all, that's all he was now, this broken, crying boy on the bed. He was just a thing, a thing for sex and a thing for crying. That's what he was for.

***

That night, David was read a bedtime story. One of the nurses came in to do it. It was about a prince in a faraway land. The prince was named Dexter. The king and queen loved Dexter very much, and they raised him to be brave and strong and wise, and to help his people. Dexter was mean sometimes to his servants and those lower in rank, but his father would stop him. "Do not be mean to them, son," said his father. "They are what they are. You were born a prince, but you might have been something else. We are each measured not by who we are, but by how well we fulfill our role in life."

When Dexter was nine years old, the kingdom was invaded. It was a brutal war, and it cost many lives. Eventually, there was a peace, but it came at a cost. Dexter's parents would have to pay a tribute every year, and to prove their loyalty, the invaders demanded a hostage. Dexter.

"We must do it for the sake of our people," said the King. "You must fulfill your role as a prince to them, and go, as I must fulfill my role as a king and give you to them."

So Dexter went. He was kept as a servant. Instead of sleeping on a warm feather bed, he slept on a cold pallet. The prince there was younger than Dexter, but he made fun of Dexter because his armies lost and his kingdom got conquered.

But when Dexter was told to bring wine, or to wait on someone or fetch something, he refused. He would get beaten then, beaten until he was black and blue, beaten until he cried and curled up and said, "no more!" And then he would fetch what he was ordered to fetch.

Then Dexter scowled at his captors, and spoke ill of them, even as he obeyed their commands to fetch things. But they did not think his attitude was good for a servant, and so again he was beaten until he could do nothing but hold his arms over his head to resist the blows, and again he cried out, "no more!"

So now Dexter did his tasks, and he tried not to scowl, but he still did not do them well. He simply didn't care for them, and he spilled wine and dropped things and walked slowly. Again they did not think this was good for a servant, so they beat him, they beat him savagely. They called him useless and a brat and much worse. Again Dexter curled up, he tried to protect himself, and finally he cried again "no more!"

His father was visiting, and got a moment to speak with them. "You're hurt," said his father.

"They don't treat me well," said Dexter. "Take me home!"

"I cannot, son," said his father.

"But they make me bring things, and make me sleep on this uncomfortable pallet, and they treat me like a servant!"

"But son," said his father, "you are a servant now. That is what life has brought you because of our misfortune. Remember, we are each measured not by who we are, but by how well we fulfill our role in life."

His father left him then, and Dexter was left to think on that. He knew it was true. And he knew he was being beaten because he was not a good servant.

Dexter learned an important lesson, then. He learned that whatever he was, he must do his best. And so the next day he did what he was told, and his masters were pleased with him. Dexter was pleased, too. It was not just that he was beaten less. He knew that he might be a servant, but he also knew he could be the best servant.

And that was the story that put David to sleep.

***

When David woke up next, Gustavo was in his room watching over him again. "You got a present," said the nine-year-old.

"A present?" asked David warily.

"Relax, new kid," said Gustavo. "This is nice." Gustavo brought out a gift wrapped box.

David took the box and opened it gently. His eyes widened as he saw it: a build-your-own model of the Millennium Falcon. "Whoa!" he said.

"I think it's from one of your customers," said Gustavo. "They must have liked you."

There was a note on it, and David read it. "I hope this makes your time a little bit better. Stay strong. – Daddy." At first, David thought it was from his own dad, but then he realized. It was from that nice man with the honey and chocolate, the one who asked David to call him 'daddy', the one who'd asked what his favorite movie was.

David opened up the box and took out the pieces. Gustavo arranged the bed so that he'd be sitting up. David's ankles stayed restrained, just in case, but he could move his arms, could assemble the toy.

For a while, the child just looked at all the pieces blankly. Then, face determined, he started to click them together. At some point Mark came in, and the two assembled it together, in silence.

***

That toy was a lifeline for David. He held the Falcon in his hand, swinging it through the air, flying around. It would race through space, turning this way and that, squeezing through tight corners, skimming the surface of the bed. When his ankles were unshackled, David would fold his legs together, making cliffs and caverns for the ship to maneuver around. He'd bend his knees and the ship would fly under his leg. An ankle might slip off his knee and it'd be like a rock slide, and the ship would dodge around his falling foot.

Sometimes he'd stand up and he'd fly the Falcon around the room, or under the bed. The bed had a complex web of metal supports, and David would maneuver the ship through it, flying through, lips pressed together to make the engine noises. The ship would race through, close calls as it passed by the metal, turning sideways and upside down as it dodged through. Racing to the center of the Death Star, to blow up the Emperor.

The ship would fly through the restraints that held David, between ropes and those weird, bendable metallic arms that held them. David imagined its lasers shooting out, blasting those restraints to smithereens. He imagined the lasers opening a hole in the wall and blasting out of here…

David imagined himself to be Han Solo. He was on that ship, he was free, he was strong, he was his own man. He could just fly away with Chewie, no one else nearby, no one to hurt him, no one to make him do anything he didn't want to.

Just flying.

Flying.

Free.

***

There was a TV in David's room, but David didn't like to watch it. It reminded him too much of home. All the boys on TV were normal kids. They went to school, they had parents, they lived their lives. They wore clothes.

David hadn't worn any clothes in days, except for that girls' stuff he'd been dressed in for a few minutes. What was even stranger was that he barely even thought about his nakedness. It seemed… so much less than everything else that had happened to him. Gustavo, Mark, Paul, they all got to wear clothing, but he didn't. It just seemed normal. Even when Dr. Lee came in, David didn't think twice about it. He didn't try to cover his privates. Even when Dr. Lee looked him over, even when David noticed Dr. Lee's gaze lingering on his cock, David just sat there, naked. Wasn't that what a slave was supposed to do?

Even the restraints, David didn't do anything about. He accepted that he'd be tied up at night, and he let Mark (who usually watched him then) tie him up. In the morning, he meekly asked if he could have the restraints removed, usually so he could play with the Falcon. Gustavo always said yes.

Anyway, the TV. David didn't like to watch it, so he mostly left it off. He spent time playing with the Falcon, or just laying there, thinking to himself. Remembering. If he was lucky, remembering home. If he was unlucky, remembering sex. Either way, it left him sad.

Gustavo liked the TV, though. He asked David if he could turn it on, and David didn't want to argue, so he agreed. What David found normal, Gustavo found fascinating. He would sit there for hours, engrossed in the TV stories. The cartoons, whatever show was on, it didn't matter. Gustavo would just watch, quietly, while David tried to distract himself or to fall back asleep.

***

David had been asleep, and he awoke gently. He'd been having nightmares most of the times he fell asleep, and it was a relief to wake up without screaming.

As David lay there, naked and tied to the hospital bed, he found that he was much more… aware of his body than he ever had been before. Before, his body was simply something that was there, unquestioned, his way of interacting with the world. He ran around and played games, he walked, he peed, he sat down, he lay down, and it simply happened. If he, say, scraped his knee, then he might recognize his knee as the part of him that got hurt, but he never thought about it more than that.

Now, he found that he was powerfully aware of each part of his body. Of course parts of it ached, and that made him aware of his feet, the whipped parts of his tummy, his cock, and places inside, too. But it was more than that.

For the first time, he was consciously aware of himself. Of his toes, each of them, and how they curled out from his feet. He flexed them just to feel their reality, their movement. He was aware of his elbows, and how they bent, connecting his upper arms to his lower arms, and he was aware of their limited motion because of the bonds on his wrists. He felt each breath, felt his stomach rise and fall. He was aware of his nipples, that so many of the men had found so interesting.

He was aware of his legs, how they extended down from his torso. He thought of them as vulnerable, and he shivered. He realized that men had hair on their legs and he didn't. He wondered if he would, later. As his thoughts went to his own vulnerability, he was aware of how he became nervous. He felt his breathing get faster. He felt a little bit of sweat on the back of his neck. He realized that the big toe on his right foot had raised up and curled over the next toe over, pushing it down. He tried to take deep breaths, to calm himself down. Eventually it worked, mostly.

The vulnerability of his legs, of his body, of how he was now that he was tied down, made him think of his cock. He could feel it, loosely hanging there, sticking out from his body. His ball sack, exposed, open to the world. Why did God make him like that, he wondered? Why would God put the most vulnerable part of him on the outside? (Not that his inside was so sacred anymore, either.) Why would God make him so easy to hurt?

He hadn't thought of God since he got here. Before he'd even been sold, he'd been wondering if God really existed. His parents took him to church every week, of course they did, every week. But he could tell they weren't really believers, not really, and he was doubting too, and now this, and he wondered at how he hadn't even asked God for help when the worst things in the world were being done to him. Why not? Would it have helped? Could God have saved him? He shivered. If God could have saved him, and he hadn't asked for help…

David tried to stop thinking about that. His thoughts drifted, back to his cock, hanging there, flaccid, helpless. He wondered if it would grow, become big like all the men who'd used their cocks on him. If he'd get hair like theirs all over it. He wondered if their big penises were what made them do such bad things, and he started to shake, fearing that if his got big and hairy, he'd start to do the same things. Would he? Did all men do those things? Did his dad do those things?

There was a part of him that wanted it, that wanted a big, hairy cock, that wanted to be big and strong so that he could protect himself. He longed for it with every fiber of his being. But if it meant he'd hurt people, he didn't know if he'd want that.

Would his cock get big and hard like theirs? Would he want to put it into other people, into kids like him? To rule over them, and to put his… whatever it was called, the white stuff… would he want to put his white stuff into those kids like they put it into him? Would his cock even make the white stuff, or was it just for when you hurt other people?

He started to remember everything that had happened to him, to relive those things he wanted to forget. How he'd been thrown facedown onto beds as sweaty men climbed on top of him. They'd pull his butt cheeks apart with their fingers, and rub on some sort of cream, there was always that cold cream they spread on him, and then they'd put in their big, hairy cocks, shove them inside of him. He remembered how he squirmed underneath them but couldn't do anything to get away. They simply controlled him, they dominated him, while their cocks were inside him, sliding around until they squirted that white stuff into him. The cum.

He remembered how sometimes there'd be more men. He might be on his tummy or on his back, but the men would always climb on top of him, and sometimes one cock would go into his butt while the other went into his mouth, deep, deep into his mouth so that he couldn't breathe, filling it up completely, and the man would put his big, powerful hands on David's head and move it back and forth, shoving him deeper, making David cough and gag and sputter, pushing painfully against his back, forcing his jaw open wider than it could open.

David was sweating all over now. His body squirmed in its restraints as he relived the attacks.

He remembered the smell of the men's cocks, the pubic hair that got stuck in his nose, and the moans, the constant moans of pleasure. He remembered the way the men would speak in a dreamy monotone while they repeated "so good, so gooood," over and over again, or the way they might get angry, use their power over him, slap his face and say "Eat it, little bitch!" He remembered how they would move around and it would send shockwaves through his body as their cocks tore through his rectum or his throat. He remembered the pain, and the misery, and the total helplessness…

David was frantically pulling at his restraints. He had to get out, he had to get away!

His daydream moved on to the end, the inevitable end, the end he had come to expect and dread. Wherever the cocks were, in his mouth or in his ass, they would always start pulsing, getting even longer than they were before, pushing against even more of the sensitive places inside his body that he hadn't even known existed before. If they hadn't already, the men would lose control of themselves, their grips tightening on him. If they were fucking his mouth, this was always when they'd pull the hardest, forcing him even deeper on their cocks. If it was his ass, they'd always pull him close and push their dicks further in. A lot of them would shout something, like "yes yes yes!" And then they'd shoot out that white stuff, gooey and sticky and SOMETHING. He'd tasted enough of it, and he figured it was the same stuff they put into his ass. Whatever it was, that was always the end, unless they made him lick their cocks off or something like that. When they were done, he'd always be left there, maybe crying but it didn't matter, just naked, hurt, done, used, until the next one.

And it would always come, the next cock or cocks, sometimes two at once, using both of the openings in his body, pulling him and pushing him and abusing him, until finally the pulsing came again, pushing against his body, hurting him, hurting him so much, hurting him like he didn't matter at all, like… like… nothing, nothing, he was nothing.

David screamed, an ear-piercing shriek that layered the room in his terror, his terror at a life of this.

Gustavo snorted awake from the nearby cot. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed. "What the hell?"

Gustavo unshackled the boy from the bed, and David stretched his muscles.

"It's all right," said Gustavo. "This is normal. When you move to the boys' dorms, once you're better… lots of kids wake up screaming there."

David did not feel comforted by that information. He reached over to the table near his bed and grabbed the Falcon. Silently, quietly, he flew it through the air, watching it gracefully curve around in open space, going where it wanted, doing what it wanted.

***

Of course, not every gift David got was so good to him.

"David," said Gustavo, "you got another gift."

"What is it?" said the boy.

"I don't know," replied Gustavo, handing him a wrapped box.

David excitedly tore the wrapping paper off, throwing it on the floor. There was ribbon on it which gave him some trouble, but he managed to drag it over the sides of the box to get it off. Inside the box was some crumpled paper, no doubt to protect whatever was inside. David reached in, and he pulled his gift out.

It was a big dildo.

David's eyes widened and his breathing sped up. He was taking big, gasping breaths as he held the sex toy in his little hand. He felt sweat prickle up on his brow.

David knew the dildo. It was the one from Madame Épée. The one where she'd made him take it, and, and, she'd made him… she'd made him stick it up his ass. So deep, and then he'd had to keep it there, and…

There was a note hanging off the dildo, suspended by a little string. "Remember how you served me, my beautiful David? You did so well. Bring this next time, will you, sweetie? – Madame Épée." Her signature was a big, loopy thing.

David felt his body shaking. His mind flashed with memories of what she'd done to him. Of fiery electric shocks all over his body. The way they burned his nipples, his feet, his cock. The way she'd made him hurt himself, and he'd done it, he'd done it without thinking, he'd pushed the buttons that lit his cock on fire, he'd stuffed this dildo, this dildo up his ass, all the way, even though it had hurt, he'd done whatever she said with no resistance. He'd been so scared, so pathetic, so helpless that he'd have done anything. Anything to get through the pain. Anything because she told him to.

Tears rolled down his face. Still more tears, always more tears. They fell from his round cheeks and landed on the hospital bed. He imagined again the pain, the electricity rocketing through his balls, the worst pain he'd ever imagined, and his body jerked back at the thought. "Nnnnnnnh," he whimpered. He remembered how he'd reached around back to push the dildo in, how he'd gone to the wall and leaned against it, pushed himself against it so that it would force it in deeper, force it in, anything to make her happy. He felt it, then, the all-too-familiar feeling of something up his ass, stretching him, breaking him, pushing his insides wherever it wanted. "Ahhhhhhh," he grunted. "Uh… uh… uhhhhhhh." His breathing was heavy and labored, his shoulders heaving with each breath.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAH!" he screamed, and he opened his eyes, and he threw the dildo across the room. He grabbed the covers and dived down onto the bed, pulling them over him, hiding from the world while he cried and sobbed and, no matter how hard he tried otherwise, remembered.

"You will remember this night forever, little boy," she'd said. "For this was the first time you were dominated, the first time your free will was utterly taken from you, the first time you lost yourself and became only a creature to serve, hoping for the pain to end."

She was right, and David cried. For he'd been nothing more than a creature to serve. He'd have done anything…

"David," said Gustavo, laying a hand on the sobbing lump of bed sheets. "Are you all right?"

"THROW IT AWAY!" screamed the boy. "Throw it away, please, throw it away!"

Gustavo paused. "You shouldn't," he said. "She told you to keep it."

"Throw it away!"

"What if she rents you again?"

David silently sobbed into his pillow. "Oh God," he said as he sobbed. "Oh God."

Gustavo took a deep breath and left him there. He carefully set the dildo somewhere safe, across the room.

Fuck, Gustavo thought to himself, she's going to pay out the ass to see video of this.

***

Those were the only two gifts David got. His days were long. He'd get checkups from Doctor Lee. Gustavo would spread the salve over his body. He'd spend time by himself, just flying around with his Millennium Falcon.

Sometimes all three of the boys from that first night, Gustavo, Mark, and Paul whom he'd barely met, would come in and they would play games. Mark might bring his action figures and they would all play with them, although David never quite understood the sexual references the other boys made. David noticed that the other boys all got to wear clothes, while he was still naked. He asked for clothes but never got them. It never occurred to him that he was being trained to become comfortable with his nakedness in front of other people. At the Boyagio, there's never just one reason for anything, and this week served as recovery time, training time, and a time for David to become resigned to his fate. Let alone the video.

Sometimes there'd be a board game, even if these weren't the board games David was used to. There was a version of Monopoly themed after the Exotic Strip; a version of Clue about determining who had sex with whom; a version of The Game of Life that was about achieving orgasm. There were games that required sex acts as well: Sexopoly which triggered you to perform all kinds of sexual acts for the game's money, and some version of Jenga that involved doing sexual things to other people. David refused to play those, but at one point the boys played Sexopoly in his room. David just watched as his friends kissed, fondled, sucked, and fucked each other. Another training experience for the young child.

David's friends… they had fun. They were a peculiar instance of light in his dark life. For Mark and Paul and Gustavo, this was a rare time away from nights filled with mandatory sex. They could just be kids, or at least as close as they got. They laughed, they ran, they joked. (Too often about sex, for David's young ear.)

There were times, rare times, when David forgot himself too, at least a little bit. Where he stopped being always sad, and actually enjoyed being with these new friends. It never lasted long; something always reminded him. A sexual reference, his own nakedness, the pain in his body. But for brief moments, David actually had fun, too.

The days were still hard. There were long periods where David felt alone and trapped by his thoughts. The slightest thing could trigger a memory that overwhelmed him. If a door shut in just the right way, it would sound like the door of a customer's room, and he'd fear that he was back in service. If a man he didn't know came in, he felt terror; once, he screamed and hid under his covers. One time he heard music, and he thought it was Eye of the Tiger.

If the days were hard, the nights were worse. They started off well enough, David supposed. Each night, he would get a bedtime story from the nurse. There was Harry Learns to Serve, about a seven-year-old named Harry who is learning to suck cock. Young Harry, desperate to please his master, tries everything. He practices with a cucumber, with his finger, with anything he can to learn to deep throat. It is not until a warm lesson from his master that he finally gets it. There was James and the Giant Cock, about a boy trying to be strong enough to take an older friend's huge cock without crying. And there was Diary of a Sexy Kid, about a boy who seduces older men and the many creative ways he does so. It was, in other words, an introduction to foreplay and what men find attractive in boys.

To these stories, David would just listen quietly.

But then David would have to go to sleep, and then he'd dream. That was when he'd have nightmares. That was when he'd wake up screaming.

The truth was that it did get better over the week. As the idea of sex with men became more normal, his terrors had just a little bit less power over him. The nightmares became just a little bit less frequent. David wouldn't have been able to say if this was a good thing if he thought about it, but one thing was sure. His training so far was working.

***

It was perhaps 2am, about a day before David's week of recovery was up. David was awake. He'd had a nightmare, and now he was lying in bed, trying to fall back asleep. But he was tied to the bed, which was uncomfortable, and the lights were always on in the room (better to film him, although he didn't know that) and he couldn't stop thinking. His mind was just running, always running.

He thought back to that night. It had been one night. Just one night, but so long. So awful. How could all of that have happened in one night?

David was eight years old. He knew how slavery worked. It lasted until you turned fourteen. So he was going to be here for six years. Six years, and that had been just one night! That was so long, so many nights, thousands of nights that he would have to endure, suffer, endure.

"I can't," he moaned into his pillow. "I can't, I can't, I can't."

A hand, a boy's hand, reached down and touched him on his chest. "Hey," said the child.

It was Paul. David hadn't really gotten to know Paul. He'd been on nightshift here, and during David's first night, Paul had been requested by that first customer. They'd played a few games together, but that was it.

"Sorry," said David.

"It's all right," said Paul. He massaged David lightly with his hand. "Don't worry about it."

"I…" said David, "I can't do it. I can't go back to that. Not again."

Paul nodded. "It's not so bad, usually. Most people here, they just want to fuck. They won't hurt you the same way."

"But fucking hurts."

"Eventually you get stretched out," replied Paul. "Then it doesn't hurt so much because your body is used to it."

"I don't want that to happen."

"Well, it will happen, and then fucking won't hurt very much. It even feels good sometimes." Paul's hand gently started massaging David's nipples.

"But then they hurt you."

"Not too bad, not really," answered Paul. "Not after your first night, not unless you do something wrong and get sent to the East Wing."

"The East Wing?"

Paul shivered. "It's where the adults who like to hurt us get boys. You can get sent there if you're really bad. Some people get sent there permanently."

"Like, the whole time?"

"Yeah," said Paul. "If you're there, every customer is there to hurt you. Every single one. Don't ever, ever, ever get sent there."

"All right," said David. "So… what if you're not in the East Wing?"

"Then they can't do that much to you, even if they want to," answered Paul. "They're allowed to hurt you a little bit, like, squeeze your balls" – Paul noticed David move his thighs together – "or maybe spank you or something, but they almost never do. The ones who like that stuff go to the East Wing."

David nodded. "So what do you do?"

"Most times, you go for an hour, you fuck, you're done. A little bit of foreplay."

"What's that?"

"Uhhh… before sex, getting them excited."

David shrugged. He didn't really understand.

"Anyway, sometimes you stay longer, spend the night in bed with them, or shower, or go swimming with them, stuff like that. Sometimes they'll rent you for a whole day, and then you go to stuff with them. Go out to eat, see shows, that kind of thing. They'll ask you to do stuff, like maybe suck their cock during dinner, or sit on their laps, kiss you, they might play around with your cock or something like that. The usual stuff. It's pretty nice, you get to see and do a lot, eat good food, and they usually care for you pretty well."

David nodded as if he understood.

"Some customers like to have you dress up, or role play. I've never been any good with that, but it can make you pretty popular. There's some other stuff. But it's all not too bad. I even like it sometimes. Look, David, I've been here four years. Since I was littler than you. My parents sold me when I was seven. And it's not that bad." Paul's hand moved down to David's stomach, stroking it, circling it.

"Really?" asked David.

"We all have our nightmares," said Paul. "We all had our first night."

"But why do they do that?"

Paul answered simply. "Because it makes them a lot of money. Everything makes them money. You know why they don't let people hurt you after this, at least not badly? Because if you're hurt, you can't see more customers. That's why they have the East Wing, so that boys who didn't make them as much money out here, because they weren't willing to have sex, will make them a lot of money over there by getting hurt again and again."

"So it's all about money?"

"Pretty much. Money makes the world go 'round, right?" Paul paused, thoughtful. "You can use it to help you, too. You'll get gifts. And customers will leave you tips, and you can use those tips for stuff here. Better food, you can buy your own nights off, time on the Xbox, all kinds of stuff."

Paul's hand moved down to David's cock and started stroking it. "What are you doing?" asked the boy.

"Shhhhh," said Paul. "I want to show you what it can feel like."

"Don't," said David.

"I missed you when we played Sexopoly."

"Please," said David.

"It's all right," said Paul. "Everyone does this while they recover. I'll show you how it works and get you ready for training."

"Training?" asked David.

Paul was pulling his shirt off over his head. He was a sturdy 11-year-old boy, and the removal of his shirt revealed a smooth, toned body. Whereas most boys seem to have either a flabby stomach or are so thin that they have no stomach, Paul's abdominal muscles framed his body with two clear lines down either side of his torso. His stomach was a firm bulb framed between those muscles. Staying fit was how Paul stayed popular with the men here. He played all kinds of sports and exercised whenever he could. It felt good, and it got him bigger tips to spend on good food and video games.

"Once you're healed enough," he said, "you're going to get training on how to be a good pleasure boy."

"Pleasure boy?"

Paul was lowering his pants now. "It's what they call us. We give pleasure to the men, and sometimes women, who come here." His legs, too, were firm and strong. Muscles flexed as he lifted his left leg, and then his right leg out of the pants.

"I'm going to be a pleasure boy," mumbled David.

"Yup," said Paul. He dropped his underwear to the ground. Then he smiled and turned his naked preteen body to David. He flexed his muscles. "Pretty good, huh?"

The comment was really meant for the camera, not for David. The truth was, Paul wasn't that into this sort of thing. Oh, he'd have sex with other boys sometimes, because an orgasm was an orgasm, but he still wasn't quite old enough to really care that much either way.  When they'd asked for someone to have sex with David for the camera, he'd volunteered because he thought it was a good way for more people to see him, to make him more popular. So he flexed his muscles and let those pervert customers feast on his body.

Now, well, duty called.

He walked up to David and climbed onto the bed, straddling his legs. Gently, he ran his hand along David's stomach. "This," he said, "is foreplay." Then he laid himself down on top of the boy, knowing how that kind of body-on-body contact would play on camera. He gently slid his body back and forth along David's shackled body, releasing his best moan. Then he started to gently lick David's stomach with the tip of his tongue.

"Stop it," mumbled David. He squirmed a little bit.

"You should learn from what I do. It will get you ready." Paul brought a hand down to the inside of David's thighs. He ran his fingertips along the thighs in a wide circle, slowly looping around and around over the sensitive area.

Then the older boy stuck out his tongue loosely, laid it flat on David's stomach, and took a big, wet lick upwards. Then slightly to the right, next to where the first trail of saliva was drying, he licked up again. Again he moved a bit to the right, again he licked, all the while his fingers circled, circled, circled on David's thigh.

He stuck out the tip of his tongue into David's belly button. "Doph yuh sthee," he started to say, but realized that he couldn't really be understood. He stopped for a moment and laid his head on the boy's tummy. "Do you see," he asked, "how this gets you excited?"

"Please stop," breathed the boy, still held in the bed by his restraints. It wasn't that it felt bad, exactly, although it didn't really feel good, either. It just was. But he hadn't asked for this. Once again, things were being done to his body, with his body, without his permission.

But Paul didn't stop. Instead, he crawled up the boy, making sure to let his skin slide against David's skin as he did so. He reached David's nipples, and he spent some time there sucking them, first the left one, then the right one. He stuck his tongue out and ran it across the nipples, pressing on them and playing with them, shifting them side-to-side under the push of his wet tongue.

"Uhhhhhh," moaned David.

Still Paul moved closer, up, now to David's neck, where he buried his face, scooping up the loose, warm skin into his mouth where he massaged it, rolled it back and forth along his tongue. His hand had switched to David's other thigh now, circling there, looping there, brushing closer and closer to David's crotch. Still Paul licked across David's neck. David's thighs shifted under the sexual assault.

"Mmmmmm," moaned the boy.

Paul crawled up further, reaching David's face.  He was surprised to see tears. He thought the kid was enjoying this! But either way he couldn't stop, not on camera. He dived down and started to kiss David, while his hand moved up from the thighs to David's cock. He tried to position David's head at an angle where the tears might be visible on camera.

Hell, he thought. Maybe someone will even rent us both out to recreate this scene.

It wasn't, honestly, that David wasn't enjoying this. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He wasn't relaxed, not while he felt himself being used again. Things were happening to him and he just had to endure like he always did. But when Paul started to kiss him, David relented. He relented in part because his stimulated body seemed to want it, at least as far as he could understand, but also because he feared what would happen if he resisted. He knew… he had learned that he was never allowed to resist sex.

Paul's tongue dove into the willing mouth. He sucked and he slurped. His slid his naked body against the other boy, letting smooth skin glide across smooth skin, gently humping the younger child. His right hand was at David's cock, index finger circling around the cock and balls, gently tracing out their boundary as he felt David's cock start to rise. Then, feeling blindly with his hand, he took the young cock and started to bat it back and forth, first pressing it against the boy's soft belly, then down gently against his balls, then back up to his belly, then back to his balls, swinging the cock back and forth, pressing it, stimulating it. It was growing harder and harder. He felt the first motion of David's hips, pushing up, seeking more.

"See?" his whispered to the boy, still loud enough for the camera to pick up. "This is foreplay."

"I didn't ask for this," said the boy.

"No, but you got it anyway."

Again he kissed, his hand now encircling the boy's sensitive organ, pumping it up and down. Again David's hips surged upward. The little cock was firm.

"Now," said Paul, "we're done with foreplay. You're ready."

He climbed down to David's cock, letting his muscled, naked body shimmy along the slender child. He stuck out his tongue and licked up the tiny cock until he was at its tip. He let his tongue play with the tip for a few moments, and then he swallowed it whole in his mouth. He sucked hard. Inside his mouth, he let his limp tongue rest underneath the boy's cock, and then he started to gently move the tongue back and forth.

David whimpered.

Paul opened his mouth and with a move forward, he took in David's balls as well. Now all of David's privates were inside Paul's mouth and he slurped and sucked and ran his tongue along anything it could reach. He felt David's body squirm underneath him. David's cock jumped in his mouth. Every exhalation seemed a whimper, its own sound, a small, high-pitched "huh".

Paul reached up his hands, running them along David's stomach, along his chest. They reached up to the prone boy's nipples and he pinched them lightly, circling, fondling. Still he sucked on cock balls.

He pulled back for a while, just sucking on the very tip of David's cock, the most sensitive area, where he could really run his tongue along that tip, surround it and encircle it. He felt it pulse, pulse, pulse. David's chest heaved with each breath. He was awash in sensations that he didn't understand.

Slowly, slowly, Paul sucked on the cock, the suction pulling more of it deeper into his mouth, first a quarter, just past the tip, then half of it, then almost all of it, and finally, with a mighty suck, the whole cock was again in his mouth. With it there, he jutted his tongue out to lick David's balls, a technique he'd finally perfected last year. The balls swung back and forth gently with each impact of the tongue.

"Ohhhhhh!" cried David.

Paul brought the balls into his mouth again and he decided to try to finish the boy off, sucking hard, really stimulating that tiny cock. David's body responded, hips humping forward into Paul's mouth, in and out, desperately seeking more in a mindless instinct that defied David's true desires. Paul sucked still harder. His hands came down, off of David's nipples, down to his butt, pushing him in, holding him there as the young boy continued to hump him. Paul ran his tongue along the base of his cock again, making little waves, ripples in his tongue as he ran it back and forth.

David's back arched upward, torso suspended off the bed, butt up, legs up, cock extending up into that mouth that was stimulating it so wonderfully. His body wasn't his anymore, it was subject to this pleasure, this feeling, and as it was suspended in the air there he pumped his crotch up as far as it could go.

Humping, sucking, licking, humping, sucking, licking, David was floating in sensation, and finally, finally, finally, he had his second orgasm, cock pumping into the other boy, jumping up and down in the other child's mouth, the final exclamation point of overwhelming feeling.

David collapsed, body covered in sweat, onto the bed.

Paul sat up, smiling. He sat on the side of the bed, legs dangling, then dropped down to the floor. "Did you like it?" he asked.

David nodded.

Paul smiled wider, and kissed David on the lips. "Anytime you want to do it again," he said. Then he went and sat down.

The problem was that David did like it. It felt good. But when it happened to him, he didn't feel like he was in control. His body did things without him wanting it to. It just did them, he wasn't really thinking. And he was scared. Wasn't this what all those men had done to him? Was he going to become like them by doing this?

"Can you untie my arms?" David asked Paul.

The older boy nodded. "Sure," he said. "You did so well." Then he did so.

As Paul sat back down, David reached out to the table near his bed and grabbed the Millennium Falcon. Making little engine noises with his mouth, he flew it through the air above his bed, watching it soar through infinite, empty space.

Free.

***

"You're healed," said Doctor Lee. David was standing in front of him, naked, following his checkup.

"What happens now?" asked David.

The doctor looked over the boy. He was really very attractive. And everyone knew how this worked… one had to keep up the standards or the other kids would weasel out of it… it didn't matter how badly he'd been hurt…

"Well," said Doctor Lee, "you're not my patient anymore. There's a policy, you see, that Pleasure Boys who aren't otherwise engaged… serve the staff." The doctor climbed up on David's bed, sitting with his legs over the edge. "Sit on my lap," he said.

There was no trace of resistance in the boy. He'd had a week to think about what had been done to him, and he knew this was his life. So David climbed up on to the bed, and then sat himself on Doctor Lee's lap. The doctor's hands moved hungrily over the boy, exploring his tender, exposed, newly-healed skin. David felt the doctor's tongue along his neck, licking him.

He sat there, and he took it.

The doctor's hands found his nipples, and played with them, toying with them as the doctor's tongue licked David's neck.

David sat there, and took it.

The doctor's hands glided along David's stomach, circling sensuously, enjoying the limber give of that warm boy flesh.

David sat there, and took it.

The hands found David's cock and balls, cupped them, played with them.

David sat there, and took it.

Finally the doctor lifted David off of him and onto the bed. Doctor Lee turned to the side, facing the foot of the bed, his legs straddling across it. He opened his fly to reveal an engorged cock. "Suck it," said the doctor. "That can be your payment to me for services rendered."

David considered it, trying to figure out how to position himself. Doctor Lee misread the hesitation. "Trust me," he said, "you want to stay on the doctor's good side around here."

David finally decided to lay on his stomach, his legs hanging off the end of the bed, as he reached down and, well, he couldn't believe he was doing this, but of course he was, and he took the cock into his mouth.

He tried to suck it as best as he could, although he really had no idea what he was doing. Doctor Lee didn't try to force it down his throat. At one point the doctor did take David's warm, sweaty little boy's hand and wrap it around his cock, at least as far around as the tiny fingers could go, and have him rub it back and forth.

The doctor did not think much of the boy's technique, but there was still something… refreshing… about it. A pure innocence. He could understand, somehow, why people would pay extra for virgin boys, boys who knew nothing, who had to figure out everything for the first time. It was a tenderness, a hesitance and sense of discovery that was, on some level, extremely hot. Especially when Doctor Lee realized he would be the last to feel it, the last before David's training began.

The thought pushed him close to the edge. "Swallow it," said the doctor, and David did, only a small drop of cum dribbling down his chin.

"Well," said Doctor Lee, when the humiliating deed was finally done, "you'll get better eventually. Anyway, your training begins tomorrow morning."

And with that, he left David alone to wait.