Aside from the unavoidable feeling of fear/expectation around which Master would buy me this time, I’ve been on the block enough times to feel somewhat comfortable. The first time brought an unexpected level of vulnerability. I’m not modest, I know my body is something to be proud of and I felt confident in my ability to follow orders. I’m an overachiever and I always have been. Nothing but the best for me; honor role in class, MVP on the athletic field, and Eagle Scout, of course. Being judged by the invisible men of the collective as a piece of property, though, not even being able to speak up for myself, knowing that all of my past accomplishments were irrelevant, anyway. That was hard.

I’m on top, once again, though; Boy Serge the Best of the best, the pride of the Collective. Still, there I was kneeling on the block; my reputation as much a weight around my neck, an expectation to live up to, as much as my pride and comfort. Aside from my three Masters, I didn’t know any of the other men in the Collective. I couldn’t hope for the relief of seeing a familiar face step into the spotlight to claim me.

Master Kemp was my auctioneer. That meant I wouldn’t be fucked on the block. It was both good and bad. I don’t mind being fucked in public. A good slave is ready to be used anytime and anywhere. There is an extra pressure when one knows that one's performance means so much, though. However, Master Kemp is not an exhibitionist. I knew he would not be taking his pants down, even if I could feel his hard dick pressing into my back, through his pants.

I suspect Master Kemp is a sadist. I felt like he would have taken pleasure in beating me, but Boys cannot be even superficially damaged before they are sold. He was free to indulge in sensual torture, though. Just through stroking my body, teasing my nipples, and jacking my cock, he drove my already horny body wild with desire. Through it all, I was not allowed to touch myself. Or cum.

Finally, as I was thinking that I couldn’t take any more, the auction ended. Master St. Michael stepped out of the shadows. He was a complete stranger to me, but he was fairly young, cleancut, quite handsome. Not all of the Masters are. The first thing he said to me was, “Undress me.” I think I will be as much valet to him as a simple sex toy, but I’m ok with that. His voice was gentle and his demeanor relaxed and confident. I think it will be a pleasure to keep him looking as sharp and well put together as he clearly desires, and deserves.

After his jacket was removed, his shirt unbuttoned, and his pant’s down, I sucked him to get him fully hard and lubed up. He lay on his back on the block and motioned for me to ride him. His cock is the perfect size for my hole; fat enough to fill me up but, compared to Master Legrand and Master Snow, not so big that I have to struggle to make it fit.

I mounted him, facing away because I guessed that he would rather see his cock fucking my ass, than to watch me jacking off. I did that. I was so horny that I couldn’t stop myself and I thought that, if he didn’t want me to, he would stop me. I rode him as hard as I could, trying to make a good first impression. He obviously has stamina, though. I could tell that he was enjoying my efforts, but he wouldn’t let himself cum.

Finally, my thighs gave out and I fell back on his chest, trying to still keep my hole tight around his cock. He took over fucking up into me from below. I kept on jacking myself desperately hoping he wouldn’t stop me. Both of us held out as long as we could, but orgasms are inevitable. When we came, we came together. I think this relationship will work out well.