Winter was coming on, though. Nights were getting chilly. Every so often one of the guys from the streets would disappear. There were rumors, almost an urban legend really of a shadowy secret group. The Collective. It was an underground club for a fantastically wealthy and very kinky group of men who actually bought and sold young men as slaves. Boys in the Collective were generally treated well and could expect a nice payout at the end of their service.

No one knew for sure what it was, or even if it was real. Certain guys from the streets would just disappear. Maybe they went into service, maybe they left town, or found a permanent place with a sugar daddy. The only evidence was occasional vague hints from a few guys just before they disappeared. James had noticed the large black town car, with tinted windows that occasionally cruised through the district, although rarely stopping to pick up trade. James was curious. Maybe the car was his connection to the Collective. If there was one, that seemed like that would be it. At least the car was expensive and the owner could be expected to be generous.

James knew that he was one of the best looking boys in the district, if the car would stop for anyone, he thought, it would be him. He started watching for it and ,when he saw it coming, posed prominently by the curb flexing his lythe muscles, trying to look hot without being too obvious. Then it happened, late one evening when he was virtually alone, the car pulled up by the curb. The window rolled half way down and a distinguished man half in shadow asked in a stern but agreeable voice, “Boy, do you want a new life?” Almost on que, a chilly wind blew down the street.

James, almost afraid to answer, knowing that this was the most important question he had ever been asked in his young life, tentatively whispered, “Yes…Sir.” The man extended his hand through the window holding an expensive engraved card, “Think hard about it. Be here and don’t be late. And tell no one.” James looked down at the card and felt a chill run through him, that had nothing to do with the cold. When he looked up, the car was already half a block away.

James was there at the appointed spot before the car pulled up. The door opened and he was beckoned in, the man offered him a water bottle and questioned him sternly revealing little. James agreed to all of it. More interviews followed, step by step, each one agreeable but formal, and each revealed more.

Thus James found himself in the dark room of indeterminate size with a platform under a spotlight and the man who had introduced himself as “Master Kamp.” Master Kamp was still agreeable but he was the first man James met that really intimidated him. The stern handsome man radiated an air of absolute control and dominance that the Boy had never experienced before. James was ordered to strip and quickly complied. He was then ordered to make an oath of obedience, and his trials began.

James was examined by Master Kamp’s strong confident hands. Just as James was beginning to relax, the man’s thick fingers thrust into his mouth until he gagged. His balls were tugged and tortured until he moaned and writhed with pain, but then he was laid down on his back and his feet licked and toes sucked until he moaned with pleasure.

His hole was pummeled with a glass dildo until he could feel himself gaping open. He was finally ordered to jack himself off as the dildo continued to pound into his ass, and then eat the cum that splattered his chest. As a silk bow tie was hooked around his neck James was filled with pride, undercut by dread. The only thing he could be certain of was that a new life had begun and he would never be the same again.