It can be fun, but that’s not why I go out. I look for eager, submissive, moldable young men who I think will make a fine addition to our stable of boys. I’m looking for unclaimed slaves desperate to be owned. I’m looking for merchandise.

When Eric came up to me, it seemed like he’d been waiting his whole life to meet someone like me. Someone to see him as he saw himself: a possession yet to be possessed. The young man had worked so hard to get the right look, work out, take care of hair and appearance, obsessing over detail that would make him appealing to a guy like me. He practically begged me to take him. What else could I do?

On the way to the in-take room, I told him what was expected of him should he continue onward. I told him he had every chance to turn back and go home before we arrived, a proposition that seemed unsettling to him. Not that he was afraid I’d do something against his will, but more that this moment would pass him by if he did something wrong.

By the time my driver stopped and we had arrived at the mansion, Eric understood his role. He was to listen, submit, obey, and learn his new place in this underground society. He thought he was ready. Time to see if he was right.

Taking him in, I stripped him out of his clothes, tossing the cheap fast-fashion items on the floor. He looked at me with excited anticipation, as if he was already thinking of himself as product.

He carefully fixed his hair after his shirt came off, wanting to stay presentable to me. I could care less about his hair. All I saw was his smooth, toned, flawless, alabaster skin. His nipples were like two tiny points on his chest, standing outward and begging for attention. His soft, full lips hung from his face, heavy with excitement and arousal. I’d never seen someone so desperate to be claimed. I was tempted to take him for myself right there.

But I knew he was worth more to me at auction than as just an easy fuck. Moving around his body, I could see his hard, pink dick and his round, unblemished ass. It was like a pair of down pillows. I could have easily sold him just as a cushion to rest upon, but his tight hole was the real prize of his backside.

I went in for a taste, feeling my tongue move across the taught flesh of his hole. He let out a moan of intense pleasure. Clearly, his hole was just as connected to his mind as his dick. It tightened and pulsed on the tip of my tongue, waiting for it to be opened and taken.

He was such a beautiful prize. I knew I had to test him, try him, and see just how valuable he was. I knew buyers would go crazy for him. Afterall, it was hard for me not to pounce on him himself…