Juan's father had been killed in a truck accident on a dirt road well off what passed for a main highway in rural Honduras. As a boy of ten, Juan and his younger brother, Pedro, had gone to live with his mother's brother and his wife on a farm further down that same dirt road. The man and his wife had no children of their own. Perhaps that was something that factored in his uncle's sour attitude toward the two boys. It wasn't so bad as long as his mother was alive, but over the next two years she weakened from the combined effects of hard work and untreated tuberculosis. Juan was only twelve when she died. Pedro, never strong, followed her to the grave within the year. That's when things began to get really bad for Juan.

Soon, the most minor of reasons resulted in the boy being beaten by his uncle. These beatings became more frequent and more severe as the boy aged. When a child grows up in constant fear of someone, they do what they are told. In the rural backwater of a third world country, there are no authorities to call if someone suspects that a child is being abused. People just assume that if you get a beating from a parent or guardian, then you deserved it.

Early in his teenaged years, the boy learned to associate pain and sexual release. When he got his bare ass beaten with his abusive uncle's heavy leather belt, he was sent to bed. As he lay there, trying to feel better, he started fondling his cock. After a while, when he lay there with cum on one hand and the other rubbing his sore ass, he came to associate one with the other. It wasn't long before he was getting erections in anticipation of the beating to come.

It all culminated one day when his uncle, drunk as usual, forced him to strip telling the fifteen- year-old boy that he was going to "Golpearle tu culo" ["Beat your ass"]. As Juan stood there naked and trembling in anticipation of what was to come, his dick stood up to its full five inch [13 cm] length. His uncle spat on the floor and started laughing. Instead of beating him, he grabbed the boy by his penis and balls. The fat man squeezed hard forcing the boy to his knees screaming in pain. With his other hand, he backhanded Juan across the mouth knocking him to the floor with pain in his groin and to his face.

The man left him lying there on the floor of their hut stunned from the blow. Turning away, he staggered over to the small wooden kitchen table looking for his bottle. After all, another drink was warranted before beating the kid's ass. As it turned out, the boy was not unconscious, only momentarily stunned. Juan got up while his drunken uncle's back was turned. An iron skillet was on the stove. The boy grabbed it and swung at the man. The blow, though glancing, was effective as it struck the man on the head.

Juan stood there for a moment naked and panting. His uncle lay unconscious in a heap at his feet. Blood flowed from the place where the skillet had connected with his head. The boy somehow knew that it was a good thing that he had not killed him. Sticking around to see what came next was something that was not going to happen.

The boy dressed hurriedly and filled his backpack with some food and an extra set of clothes. Then, rummaging through his uncle's pockets, he took what little money he found. Minutes later, he left the house and didn't look back.

***

Juan had waded across the Rio Grande with a few other "children of the night." He had been on the road for almost three months when he found himself in that little town somewhere in east Texas. The old paisano with whom he had hitched a ride had only been going as far as this sleepy little place. What's more, it was off the main highway, something that Juan had not realized until he saw a map posted in a local convenience store. That meant that he would most likely have a long walk to the next opportunity for a ride to the next big farm that might be hiring day laborers without asking any questions.

The only good thing to come out of his conversation with the old man was the fact that he had learned that there was a day laborer office in the town that was a run by local people. There he might find enough work to keep him in food for a few days before he moved on to the next town and, hopefully, the next few days of work all the while avoiding the troublesome American immigration authorities.

Juan was big for his age and had been telling people that he was eighteen. While his mother's family were of pure Mayan descent, his father had come from European stock. The boy favored his father's side of the family with only his olive complexion giving any hint that he hailed from Central America. So far, no one had questioned his origins. After all, even though he was only fifteen, he was almost six feet tall [183 cm] and weighed about 170 lbs. [75 kg]. From sports and hard work he had well-developed shoulders and arms. Also, his pecs and abs were well-defined. If you were hiring someone to help with hard work, he looked like he could carry his weight on the job. So far, he had had no trouble finding work. He just didn't stay in any one place long enough for anyone to get suspicious and start checking into his made-up background information.

That day, he took a chance and went to the labor office and registered to work. It wasn't long before he was called over by one of the staff. A farmer named Jeff Brandon was looking for someone to help him weed and clear a field. He was going to need someone for a few days. He was offering free meals and a place in a bunk house, plus the hourly rate, if Juan was interested.

Well, that's how Juan met Jeff and agreed to go with him to his nearby farm. Unfortunately, the boy didn't realize that what he was agreeing to was not what he thought it was.

At the time, Juan had been more than a week without any kind of work and was glad to find what sounded like an opportunity to replenish his meager funds by working for a famer in this part of rural east Texas. However, he thought that it was strange that he had to sign something that he was told was a written agreement saying that he would work for Jeff Brandon on his farm. It was further strange when he saw the farmer slip the labor office man some money before they left the office. It was too bad that he didn't fully understand the English words on the paper before he signed it. As they say 'The Devil is in the details.'

Jeff Brandon was in his early thirties. He stood about five foot ten [1.80 m] and weighed 170 lbs. [75 kg]. His complexion was ruddy and tanned from having spent most of his time working outdoors on his farm. The fact that he was in good shape was evidenced by the noticeable biceps that were visible below the short sleeves of his faded blue cotton work shirt. Also, his chest was as pronounced as his waist was narrow. The fact that he could have used a shave and that his hair was badly in need of cutting betrayed a lack of concern with his appearance. A worn baseball cap and faded jeans worn with heavy work boots made it clear that he was ready to work.

Once the paperwork was out of the way, Jeff and Juan went out to the parking lot. There, Jeff had an old Ford truck that had seen better days. He had the boy climb into the passenger's seat beside him. Then, they drove out of the central part of the little town and into the countryside. When they came to a sign that said 'County Road 20', they turned off the main highway and drove a mile or so further into a rugged, wooded area that was interspersed now and then with cultivated fields. Finally, there was a sign beside the road that said 'Brandon Farm' with an arrow pointing off to the right side of the narrow tree-shaded county road. Jeff turned his truck into what was little more than a trail that led up to his farm house. Trees and underbrush were heavy near the road so that the house itself and its outbuildings were not visible until you drove right up to them.

The house was old, probably something that dated back to the end of the nineteenth century and badly in need of a paint job. It was a two-storied frame structure with a large one-story front porch with slim wooden columns that held up a roof that sagged in several places. Beyond the house, there was another bigger building that Juan assumed was the barn. What paint there was on the house and barn was a badly faded brown so that neither building was hardly noticeable even from the trail-like road that led up to them.

As they drove up to the house, the noise from the old truck attracted the attention of Jeff's brother, Craig. As they were getting out of the truck, the door to the house opened and he came out to greet them. Craig was a tall, well-built man in his late thirties. When he was younger, he had spent three years in the Marine Corps and over the years had remained in good shape. He was wearing a dirty white tee shirt and faded jeans, both of which were well worn. A pair of well-used dirty work boots completed his outfit. The form-fitting clothing made it clear that he had aged well. His exposed arms and face were well tanned from the time that, like his brother, he had spent out-of-doors. Only the slightest bit of gray hair at his temples betrayed his true age

"Hey, Jeff. Looks like you found some help at that labor office in town. Who's this with you?" asked Craig.

"This is Juan," replied Jeff. Then, winking at his brother, he added, "He's signed a contract to work for us for a few days." Changing the subject, he added, "Are you cooking hamburgers? I smell something cooking in the house."

"Yeah. Come on inside. I cooked a little extra hoping that you would find somebody to help us," answered Jeff.

The three of them were soon helping themselves to the food that the older brother had prepared. Juan was glad to have a full meal for the first time in a week. Feeling safe with the Brandon brothers, he ate eagerly enjoying the food.

Jeff got up and went over to the refrigerator and came back with three beers. He set one down in front of his plate and then handed one to Craig. Turning to Juan, he said "¿Cerveza?"

Even with an alcoholic uncle and plenty of alcoholic beverages coming into their little house, Juan's uncle had never offered even so much as one beer to the boy. Like a lot of alcoholics, the man had preferred to drink anything alcoholic that came his way by himself. However, kid that he was, Juan didn't want these men to know that.

The boy took the frosty cold bottle in his hand and thanked Jeff for it. Then, slowly, carefully and for the first time in his young life he took a sip of cold beer. It tasted good. He decided that he liked the taste of it, and then he took a long, full drink from the bottle. Before the evening was over, he had consumed three beers. For someone who had never in his life before drunk beer, that was three too many.

***

The morning sun shone through the open barn door. As the time passed, it was not long before the direct light of the sun fell directly on the naked boy. Juan was hanging there suspended by his wrists with his arms over his head. His feet barely touched the barn floor. Chains from the ceiling ended in padded cuffs around his wrists. His ankles were also enclosed in padded cuffs that were chained to an iron bar that ran between two concrete blocks on the barn floor.

His head was aching and he had an unpleasant taste in his mouth that made him feel that at some point during the night he must have thrown up. What the Hell had he been thinking when he sat there and drank three beers with these guys who he didn't even know, were the thoughts that now raced through his head.

Then, in a moment of clarity, it dawned on him that he was completely naked and trussed up in a barn like a hog ready for butchering. The fact that the farm was out in the middle of nowhere and miles from any sort of law enforcement also hit him like a brick wall. Without thinking, he let out a scream of panic.

Of course, he had no idea how long he had been hanging there. It seemed like hours. The hot Texas sun now beat down on his naked form causing sweat to run down his body and drip to the ground under him. At last, he heard the sound of footsteps coming up to the barn. Then, Jeff stood there in the doorway looking at the boy with undisguised lust on his face.

Jeff stood about five foot ten [1.80 cm] and weighed 170 lbs. [75 cm]. He was shirtless and sweaty having just come from working in one of the fields. He sat down on a wooden crate at one side of the barn door and took off his work boots. Then, he slowly unbuckled the wide leather belt that held up his jeans, pulled it off, and let it drop to the ground. Still looking at the naked boy, he scratched his groin and felt his hardening penis. Slowly, he unzipped his jeans. Then, using both hands he pushed them down his muscular legs and stepped out of them. He wore no underwear. Now free, his five inch [13 cm] penis had risen to its full hard length.

Naked, Jeff walked over to the equally naked boy who was trussed up there in front of him. Juan was close to panic when he screamed at the man, "¿Qué diablos está pasando aquí? No puedes salirte con la tuya. ¡Pervertido!" ["What the Hell is going on here? You can't get away with this. You pervert."]

Without warning, the man slapped him hard across the face and spoke in his native Spanish, "I can speak your language you dumb ass. You signed a contract labor agreement at that office back in town. Here in Texas, that means your ass is mine. You're my slave in everything but name until I say otherwise."

Jeff reached out and ran his hand down the boy's bare chest feeling the muscles as Juan's heart raced. He tweaked each of the boy's nipples gently causing them to harden instantly. The man circled the hard tips with a wet finger moistened with his own saliva and then brushed them gently. In spite of himself, Juan breathed hard in response to the man's caresses and could feel his own cock becoming erect. Instinctively, he tried to pull away from the man, but the way he was strung up only caused him to sway and come even closer towards his tormentor. Jeff laughed under his breath and shifted his attention to running his fingertips gently over the boy's taught belly.

Juan cast his eyes down and could see Jeff's five and a half inch [14 cm] cock with its bulbous head oozing a clear tear of pre cum. There was not a hair to be seen on the man's package. The boy could not prevent his own cock from stirring as his eyes fixed on the naked man's taught body that was there in front of him.

The man looked down at Juan's own body and frowned. "That hair has to go," he said. Then, he walked over to a dirty sink in the corner of the barn and rummaged around. When he returned, the boy could see that Jeff had a small pail of water, a can of shaving cream, and a safety razor in his hand.

"What the Hell are you going to do?" yelled the trussed-up boy in his native Spanish.

"I'm going to shave you. What did you think I was going to do?" came the reply in Spanish as the man used his hand to wet down the boy's pits and package.

"I don't want to be shaved!" screamed Juan jerking frantically as he dangled there in his chains.

"Who cares what you want?" replied Jeff.

Suddenly from the barn doorway was heard "He sure makes a hell of a lot of noise. I can hear him all the way up on the porch. It's a good thing that we're a good piece from the road." Both Jeff and Juan turned in that direction to see a shirtless Craig standing there scratching his balls.

Craig's tanned upper body was well-muscled with firm pecs and abs. He was a tall, well-built man in his late thirties. The fact that in his younger days he had spent three years in the Marine Corps was evident by the Marine Corps logo tattooed on his chest over his heart. Dirty faded jeans and well-worn work boots were his only clothes.

Jeff walked over to where his brother was standing. He ran the back of his hand over Craig's face and then leaned in close kissing him full on the mouth.

Juan had never seen two grown men kiss like that before. At first, he didn't know what to make of it. However, it would not take long for him to figure out that they were more than just brothers.

"You gonna shave him?" asked Craig.

"Yeah, that hair has to go," replied Jeff.

From a shelf near the door, he picked up a pair of scissors and returned to the chained-up boy dangling there in the middle of the barn. He reached out and grabbed Juan by the balls and with his other hand began cutting off the boy's pubic hair. It only took a couple of minutes before Jeff's dark bush was reduced to stubble. The boy shuddered and stifled a sob as, looking down; he saw his body hair littering the ground.

Then, Jeff again wet down Juan's pits and package. Taking the shaving cream, he lathered those areas in the white soapy foam. Using the safety razor, he carefully shaved the boy until he was as smooth and slick as a newborn babe. Taking the remaining water, Jeff washed away the remaining suds. Then, he ran his hand over the freshly shaved areas to make sure that he had not missed anything.

By now, Juan's penis was rock hard. He had never had anyone ever touch him there except for that one incident with his father and that was more pain than sex. For the first time, he felt truly naked.

Meanwhile, Craig had stripped and now walked behind the defenseless boy. He ran one hand over Juan's firm rounded butt and then slowly probed his hole with the middle finger of the other hand. Jeff whimpered and pleaded muttering "No" over and over again.

It was to no avail. Craig shoved his finger all the way into the boy's virgin hole. Then, withdrawing it, he pushed his own hard cock into the boy. Meanwhile, Jeff had started sucking Juan's own hard member.

The boy was attacked from both sides and there was nothing that he could do about it. This went on until both men had what they wanted. Then, they lowered him to the ground where he lay in a sobbing heap on the dirt of the barn floor.

Maybe slavery was dead in America, but it surely didn't feel like it to Juan Martin that day in east Texas.

***

The brothers put Juan to work naked in their fields clearing brush and getting things ready for the planting season. At least they gave him a pair of their old work boots and a pair of gloves to use while working. However, this was just good business and not compassion. After all, any farmer wants to keep his tools in good shape and Juan was just another tool to the two perverted farmer brothers.

They worked the boy all day and then every night used him from both ends to satisfy their own lusts. Juan was a normal horny teenager, but he hated being the middle in their sexual sandwich.

His chance came one evening a month or so later when, after some beers and sex, the brothers forgot to chain him up for the night.

Juan waited until he was sure that both brothers were sleeping off their beers and then took off in the direction of the road. He had found an old tee shirt and a pair of jeans on the clothes line behind the house so he would not be going naked.

***

Alberto Garza (known to his friends as 'Al') was a lawyer from south Arkansas who was returning home from a fishing trip that night when he spotted the boy waving him down out where County Road 20 met the main highway. Thinking that the kid had had an accident, he stopped. When Juan explained what had been happening to him, the man felt compassion and saw a chance to help put a stop to something that was just plain wrong.

The lawsuit that followed became known as Martin versus Brandon. By the time that the suit made its way through the courts, Juan Martinez really was eighteen. He ended up being adopted by Al Garza and his wife. In the end, he finally found a home where he was wanted and where he could be happy and unafraid.