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Of all the places Tom had seen so far, Bangkok was his favorite. Despite
the overwhelming heat of the Thai climate, strolling through the back
streets of Sukhumvit Road seemed to energise him. The smell of the spicy
street food, the noise of the cars and tuktuks that seemed to be
permanently stuck in traffic, the view at a colorful urban jungle, where
trendy bars, shabby tailors and high end hotels had fought for the best
available locations and had settled down in a way that wouldn't have made
sense anywhere else in the world. It was this chaos that he was taking
in. This was what finally started to make him feel alive again.

After Singapore, Indonesia, Vietnam and Cambodia, Thailand was the fifth
country on the list. It had been two months since Tom boarded on a flight
from Paris to Singapore, just three days after dropping out of the
prestigious university of Sorbonne in Paris. He had only spent six months
on his literature major when he came to the conclusion that he had picked
the wrong field of study.

"Don't worry about it, Tomas. You are still only 19. Just try to figure out
what it is you DO want to do and start out fresh after the summer", his
father told him.

Tom always had a great bond with his father, but the support he received
after dropping out was more than he could've hoped for. Apart from being
supportive, his father offered him to pay for a trip through Asia. "Go
backpacking, it will be good for you, and when you come back, you'll
probably know what you want to do", he said.

Tom was an only c***d. His father, a retired pilot for Air France, was now
in his sixties but still as charming as he must have been while he was
still traveling all across the globe. Twenty-five years ago, during a
layover in Prague, he had met a beautiful blonde woman from the Czech
republic and married her a year later. Tomas was the result of the best
they had to offer: a 1.90 meter (6ft4) tall boy, with almost silk like
blonde hair and dreamy blue eyes. Despite Tom not being very muscular, his
slim figure came with an allure that fitted a Greek god.

His stunning physique was one thing, but what really seemed to woo the
girls he grew up with in an upper class Paris neighborhood, was his air of
indifference. He was never rude, but few things could interest him. For
some reason it made him even more attractive. He didn't go to a lot of
parties his friends of classmates organised, because there was always a
book he wanted to finish or a debate on television he wanted to watch. Even
at 13, Tom was interested in politics and social issues and tried to form
his own opinion, armed with all the arguments and philosophies the many
French quality authors had put on paper.

But when he did mingle with friends, he was instantly the most popular guy
in any group. Other boys were jealous because of the effect he had on the
girls they were chasing, but they too were drawn to his natural charm. A
charm Tom never realised he had, until he lost his virginity when he was
14. It was Claire, a girl of the same age who lived across the street and
who had made it her life goal to become his girlfriend. Tom didn't care
enough to decline and stayed with her until the moment of dropping out of
university. Claire took it hard, although she must have known he had been
unhappy for a long time.

During his relationship with Claire, Tom never cheated on her. Especially
during the first few weeks at the university he had plenty of chances to do
so, but he didn't think the pain it could cause Claire would be worth a
30-minute pleasure. Being together for over five years had all but
destroyed the sex life Tom and Claire had. When they spend the night
together, most of the times Tom would read a book while Claire watched a
movie on the couch. The last couple of months Tom joined her watching
movies, as his interest in literature seemed to fade away. He couldn't find
a single book he enjoyed anymore, especially not the ones he was forced to
read by his teachers. But after the movie was finished, they went to bed
and fell asleep without touching each other for more than a goodnight
kiss. The few times that they did have sex over the last year, it was a
physical act stripped of all forms of passion. When Claire felt like it,
she would climb on top of him and moved up and down until one of them
came. There was nothing exciting about it, Tom thought. No foreplay, no
oral. Tom didn't bother to take initiative. If he was honest to himself, he
lost his interest in her a long time ago.

Backpacking through South East Asia was just what he needed; Tom thought
when he was on the plane to Singapore.

Exploring such a different world would get him out of this rut, get rid of
the boredom and relight the spark he used to have within him when he was a
young boy, in awe when he discovered all the knowledge there was yet to
learn. Even before figuring out what it is he wanted to do with his study,
Tom decided he would discover his physical side. Claire had obviously been
a bad influence on him but it wasn't too late to find out how much fun he
could have with his body.

19 years old... Hell, Tom thought, I'm going to fuck until I feel.

It didn't take him long to start this particular challenge. The girl
sitting next to him on the plane was in her late twenties and on her way to
visit her boyfriend who worked in Singapore. They talked for a while and
Tom told her what he had just decided on. He saw no reason not to, he
wasn't ashamed of it. It was more matter of fact.

The girl was so intrigued by the beautiful young boy that all she said when
he finished talking about his need to feel was: "I want you to fuck me so
hard that I'll feel it for the rest of the week."

The remaining flight time took forever, but when they finally landed in
Singapore, they got into the first rest room they could find and finally
performed the act they had talked about at an altitude of 30.000ft. The
girl came twice before Tom planted his seed deep inside her. When they left
the airport half an hour later, they hadn't even exchanged names.

The airport encounter set the tone for Tom's main activities in Asia. He
fucked locals and fellow tourists all over the continent. Being a
backpacker made life easy, the hostel dorms and nearby bars had sex written
all over them and Tom's enchanting looks made sure he never had to spend
the night alone. But with every girl he fucked, his hope of discovering
true physical pleasure faded away a bit more. The only happiness he felt
was the brief rush after cumming over or in his partner in crime. When he
arrived in Bangkok, Tom decided that the reward of climax wasn't worth the
trouble of the passionless sex that he kept encountering everywhere. This
part of his journey had failed, but maybe he could succeed in his other
assignment: Finding a goal for his future.

Tom shrugged his shoulders when leaving his hostel on Khao San Road and
headed to Sukhumvit to explore the city. No more sex. It was as if, for the
first time, he started to take in his surroundings after two months thrown
away on meaningless encounters with meaningless people. It was now time to
make some sense again before heading back to Paris.




It's easy to have fun as a 19-year-old French backpacker in Bangkok, and
Tom certainly was trying to let it live up to the expectation. He enjoyed
all the city offered him thus far: Tasty street food, the splendour of the
grand palace, the social contrast that became apparent on a long tail
cruise that took him through small canals and the extreme hospitality of
the Thai people. After a long day of cultural activities, it was now time
to explore the nightlife.

After plenty of meaningless encounters on the earlier legs of his trip
through South East Asia , Tom had decided not to pursue sex anymore.
Picking a major for the new school year was the main objective now. After
dropping out of his French literature study at the Paris university of
Sorbonne, this trip was supposed to be all about his future.

But that didn't mean he couldn't go out and get a drink. His hostel was
right at the centre of Bangkok's backpacker area, but Tom preferred to
mingle in a more local scene. He got into a taxi and asked to be taken to
Ratchada Rot Fai 2, a fairly new night market the guy at the check in
counter of the hostel promised him was still mostly undiscovered by
tourists.

"Why are you going to Ratchada", the taxi driver asked. His English sounded
good, especially for a Thai taxi driver. Every time Tom tried to take a
taxi, the hardest thing was trying to explain to the driver where he needed
to go. Even a famous hotspot like the grand palace didn't seem to ring a
bell for some of them. That his telephone was stolen in Cambodia made
things worse, because now he couldn't use a local sim card to look up
translations or help with directions. Also, Tom's French accent didn't
help, but the low level of English of the Thai people surprised him. With
so many tourists in Bangkok, you'd expect at least the taxi drivers to
communicate properly.

Tom told the driver he was looking for a more authentic experience, after
spending most of his time with backpackers for the last two months.

"You look like a smart guy, why do you go to a night market ? They're the
same everywhere. If you want to meet interesting Thai people, you should go
to Silom. That's where the students and the business men are."

Tom looked at the driver. He was a typical small Thai man, with dark,
neatly combed hair and glasses that were so transparent that they were
barely noticeable. This was not a playboy trying to get a kickback for
bringing well spending customers to one of the many shady bars that offered
ping pong shows and girls to take back to your hotel room. Also, Tom knew
that Silom was a big, well-known street, in the middle of the city. It
didn't sound like a scam.

Tom thought it all over, realising the importance of the responsibility his
parents entrusted on him. Not a lot of parents would allow their
19-year-old son to backpack through South East Asia for three months,
without a predefined itinerary. They even financed the trip. And when his
phone got stolen, all they said was `don't worry about it and stay
safe'. But Tom also knew he had to take some risks once in a while if he
truly was to have a unique experience, so he told the driver to take him to
Silom.

After a twenty-minute drive, the taxi stopped on the side of a very busy
street. There were plenty of people, so there was nothing to worry
about. No dark back ally and no intimidating bouncers in front of the bars.


The taxi driver pointed to a door that was barely noticeable between the
big office buildings. "Tell them that Prakuchit drove you here. It will
not get you a discount - it's not that kind of bar - but maybe it will help
you start a conversation." The last words of the driver made Tom feel safe
and a little bit guilty that he had doubted his intentions.

The interior of the bar had a sophisticated look, with leather chairs, low
light, a bookshelf and a liquor collection behind the bar tender that
suggested they might only serve traditional cocktails and whisky. The bar
didn't look like the kind of place that should be on the to do list of
someone on a backpacking budget, but Tom decided that he'd at least have
one drink before heading out again. There was a group of well-dressed Thai
people, probably students, in their early twenties. Seeing them made Tom
instantly aware of his own outfit. He was dressed for the market, wearing a
loose v-neck and shorts. Fortunately he was wearing shoes instead of the
usual flip-flops, but he wasn't sure it'd be enough to let him stay.

"You can't wear that in here," said the bartender who had walked up to him
and was moving his eyes all over Tom's body .

"I'm sorry, I was planning to go somewhere else but my taxi driver...
Prakuchit, he told me this would be a nice place for me to meet educated
Thai people ," Tom replied.

I n his apology, Tom's presence remained firm. Even when being asked to
leave, Tom's indifferent air made it clear that he would not feel rejected
by such a decision. The bartender waited for a more eager plea, but swiftly
realised he wasn't going to hear it from this tall boy with the French
accent. Tom saw a curious look in the bartender's eyes, that was triggered
when he had mentioned the name of the taxi driver, but seemed to intensify
by the second.

"Ok, I'll fix you a drink, come sit at the bar." The bartender tried to act
as if he had only just decided to ignore the fact that Tom wasn't wearing a
smart outfit. They both knew that wasn't true.

The bartender was an Asian man, in his thirties, and was even more fluent
in English than the taxi driver. There was barely an accent noticeable.
After he served a Bacardi and Coke, he headed to one of the guys that was
in the group of Thai students. The guy followed the bartender back to the
bar and grabbed the stool next to Tom.

"Hello, I'm Roo", said the boy.

He turned out to be the son of the owner of the bar and said he always
liked talking to young tourists who were looking for something else then
the many roads that all the tourists before had already paved. The boy
confirmed that he and his friends were indeed students, but that was about
all Tom got out of the boy. The only things Roo wanted to talk about were
the classy customers that the bar normally entertains and the stellar
reputation his father supposedly has in the gentleman's scene of Bangkok.
Tom didn't really listen. He was start ing to feel tired and losing his
concentration. When his drink was finished and he asked for the bill, the
boy offered him another drink, "from the house and because you are my
guest."

Tom didn't see the harm in one more drink. He would just drink it fast and
head back to the hostel. He had a long day of exploring the city behind
him, so the sudden tiredness didn't alarm him. It was only until halfway
through the second drink when he needed to balance his arm on the bar to
prevent falling from his stool. He started to fade in and out of the
conversation, which was only the Thai boy talking. He seemed to have
discovered Tom's purpose in Bangkok and changed the subject from his father
to life goals, or something like that. Tom couldn't keep up anymore.

"I understand you. You want to live, to do something unique."

"You want to find out who you really are."

Tom wanted to leave, but he couldn't move.

"Bangkok has made the dreams of many men come true."

"In order to make dreams of the deserving come true, there have to be
servants. You are going to be one of those servants. "


The boy kept talking, while Tom was rapidly blinking his eyes. His skin was
feeling extremely sensitive all of a sudden, like a dozen fans all started
blowing at his body at once. He tried to regain his focus, was this boy
really saying what Tom was hearing? Before he could answer the question to
himself, everything went black.


----------------------------------------------------------------------


Tom woke up lying on the floor of a room that was completely dark. It felt
surreal, as if he was still to wake up from a bad dream. It took him a
while to realise some kind of d**g was fading from his body, but once he
did it became terrifyingly clear to him that this wasn't a bad dream at
all. The room in which Tom found himself felt like a sauna, with clammy
heat touching his body. His naked body, as Tom now realised, with nothing
on it but the cold, heavy feel of a steel chain around his ankle. Tom's
predicament caused a sudden wave of panic and he started to scream.

He screamed for minutes and minutes, maybe even longer than an hour, there
was no way to tell, before his voice finally gave in. He couldn't hold off
the tears that had been urging to escape from his eyes any longer, tears
that most others would've succumbed to much sooner. But even while crying,
Tom maintained his strength of character. He made no sound and he wasn't
broken; this was nothing more than a physical reaction to the situation he
found himself in.

Tom closed his eyes, as if it could get him out of the room. He tried to
retrace his steps; the hostel, the taxi, the bar. How could he have been so
stupid to take the advice of the taxi driver. Such a foolish mistake that
he had been warned about so often. Why did he accept the second drink at
the bar when he was already feeling tired? Why didn't he just go to the
night market like he had planned to? Why didn't he get a new telephone
after the first one was stolen while he was sleeping in a Cambodian hostel?

The moment he heard a switch, he was blinded. An unforgiving beam of neon
light escaped from the ceiling and filled the room, which he started to see
was very small. The chain around his ankle was connected to a mount right
at the center of the floor. When his eyes were fully accustomed to the
intense light, there were few details yet to discover: The room was almost
completely empty, apart from a thin blanket that was rolled up against one
of the walls.

But the blanket wasn't the center of Tom's focus. What caught his attention
was a cctv camera in one of the upper corners, a dark TV monitor mounted in
the wall and the door, especially the door.

Even though the steel door didn't have a handle, it was easy to identify
between the concrete of the enclosing wall. The door was built firmly
within the concrete, Tom kept scanning for holes or distortions in the
steel, but he couldn't discover even the tiniest opening. That was probably
also the reason why he couldn't hear anything but his own accelerated
breathing.

Using all the power his body had recovered since waking up from his
d**g-induced sleep, Tom tried to stand. His legs were shaky, but he
managed. The room was small, but just big enough to prevent him from
touching the walls while standing . The heavy chain around his ankle was
just three links long so in order to touch the wall, he had to lie down and
stretch his hands. Tom noticed a couple of rings mounted into the wall, but
before he could think about the purpose of their presence, the TV required
his immediate attention: an image had appeared.

The modern looking, flat screen TV was mounted in the wall just below the
camera that was probably filming Tom this very instant. Both the camera and
the monitor were out of his reach. The cables that provided a current and
transmitted the images were barely visible and the way they disappeared
into the wall was the work of professionals. A shiver went down Tom's
sweaty spine while he concluded that he wasn't in a police cell or in the
captivity of some amateurs that might ask his parents for a ransom. Someone
a lot less bright than Tom would've figured out that this kind of setup
could only mean he was in serious trouble.

The thought was confirmed by the image on the screen. It was a picture of
Roo, the boy he had met at the bar, the son of the owner. Only in the
picture he wasn't wearing his three-piece suit, but an army-like outfit.
The violent look in his eyes matched the automatic machine gun he was
holding in his hands. In any other situation, Tom would've laughed about
such a show-off picture. Now, he realised being shown the image was his
captors' way of letting him know there was no escape possible.

The image faded to black before it began showing CCTV footage that had been
shot in the bar where Tom was a*****ed. He spotted himself, talking to his
fictive guard. The footage clearly showed that there was no one else in the
bar apart from the bartender and the friends of the boy that Tom had been
talking to. While Tom was talking to Roo and losing consciousness, the
bartender closed the front door of the bar. After the d**g had knocked Tom
out, everyone that was inside helped drag his tall body through the door at
the back of the bar. That's where the image faded to black again.

The new information that the footage had shown, felt like a punch in the
stomach. So many thoughts were fighting to be on top of mind, and most of
them were reassurances Tom was telling himself to remain calm.

They will come looking for me. They will find me. Tom wanted to think it,
but a growing feeling of hopelessness dominated his mind.

The TV started airing again and this time the screen filled with the
pinkish glow of naked bodies. From the first fraction Tom knew it was
porn. The clip showed two boys, about Tom's age. One was on his knees,
sucking the other. The clip had audio and strangely enough it was a relief
to Tom to hear the moaning of the boys on the screen. Finally something
other than the panic-filled sound of his own breathing.

The clip didn't last long. Within a couple of minutes the face of the
kneeling boy was dripping cum and his tongue was eagerly trying to get as
much of it in his mouth. The next clip started: it showed a small, young
boy bent over a table while an older man fucked him until he came in the
boys ass. Several other men, probably in their fifties or sixties, were
waiting for their turn to fuck the boy next. The clip took forever, not
until all of the 10+ men had spilled their seed in the raw ass of the
numb-fucked boy, the clip changed. A naked Asian guy appeared, only his
back was visible, he was standing with his hands pushed to the wall. The
angry voice of an invisible man shouted something in the background and
after a couple of seconds, the punishing sound of a cane hitting the bare
flesh of its victim cut through the prison room in which Tom was being
held.

As the caning in the clip continued, Tom had goose bumps all over his
body. The acts he was watching shocked him, but most of all it was that the
Asian boy that had to endure it, didn't make a single sound. As if all
sense of pain had been squeezed out of his body. That wasn't possible, Tom
thought.

Although the images were horrible to Tom, he couldn't look away, it was the
only input he got out of the room, so he had to focus on it.

Dozens of porn clips succeeded each other. All were gay; some of relatively
normal sex where boy-next-door types sucked or fucked each other, but most
had a dark twist and involved some kind of fetish.

Between some of the clips, the monitor aired the footage that the camera
above it was filming. Tom saw himself, plain naked and completely lost. It
was only when he looked at his own image on the monitor when h e noticed
his penis was hard. It didn't shock him, he was sure the erection was
based on fear, like the early boners he would get from watching a scary
movie when he was very young.

The porn clips varied in length. Some only showed a brief action, like the
licking of a foot, while other clips didn't seem to end. They covered so
many different sexual areas that it was like Tom was receiving a crash
course in gay sex. He saw intimate kisses, hair being shaven, dildos and
fists penetrating, rimming, spanking, two boys that took turns pissing in
each other's mouths and many other things Tom had never before seen or even
thought about. Oddly enough, the clip Tom found the most ominous was not so
sexual at all: It showed a group of six men that were drinking cocktails,
quietly speaking to each other and looking at a group of naked young boys
on a stage. Almost like they were inspecting them. The boys didn't do
anything but stand there. The men were acting casual, like they were
attending just another cocktail party.

The footage of this clip was grainy, but the thought occurred that it
might have been filmed in the bar where Tom was a*****ed.

After the sequence of clips had looped four times, the screen faded to
black and the neon light that had filled the room disappeared with the same
violent motion it had come with. Tom sat on the floor with his hands in his
beautiful blonde hair, that normally had such a radiant glow when it was
being touched by daylight. Three questions kept running through his mind:
Where the hell was he, how could he get away and, if he couldn't, what were
they planning to do to him ? In the darkness and silence that surrounded
him, there was no peace for him to find.




Tom had no idea if he had slept days, hours or even if he had slept at
all. He was a prisoner in a soundproof room that offered him not even the
slightest ray of light. The circumstances made sure that all sense of time
was fading away from his consciousness.

After the light had been switched off again, Tom had retrieved the blanket
that he had seen leaning against one of the walls. In order to get it, he
had to lie down on the floor and stretch as far as he could. With his
fingertips he got the blanket to move and eventually fall on its side,
which made it easy to grab.

It was a minor victory and for a brief second a positive feeling flowed
through Tom's body. Even though the small blanket wasn't even an inch
thick, it was nice not to feel the concrete floor on his naked upper
body. If Tom curled up and held his arms firmly around his knees, most of
his skin was touching fabric.

The monitor that had showed the gay erotica had been switched off since the
fourth loop and as far as Tom could tell the situation around him was
exactly the same as before the light went off.

Then, out of the blue, a sound!

At the same instant the lights flashed on and the door opened. Three
muscular Asian men entered the cell. Tom got up to his feet and moved away
from the door as far as the chain around his ankle permitted him and to try
and stay out of the men's reach, but it didn't help because they quickly
cornered him, put a gag in his mouth, grabbed his arms and legs and bound
them with restraints.

After unlinking the heavy chain around his ankle, the guards pushed Tom
forward, moving out of the cell. He had no other option but to comply.
With his arms tight to each other by the restraints, Tom knew this would
not be a chance for him to escape, but he could at least use the event to
try and figure out where the hell he was.

It puzzled Tom that the three men made no effort to prevent him from taking
in his surroundings. His eyes were free to take in the corridor he was now
moving through. There wasn't a lot to see, though. It had the same concrete
wall as Tom's cell and it wasn't very long. Tom counted eight doors just
like the metal one he was just pushed through. There were no windows in the
corridor and the ceiling was low. Despite the bright neon light it had
there was something claustrophobic about it. Confined was the right word.

One of the guards used two metal keys and an electronic key card to unlock
the heavy door at the end of the corridor. It opened to another
hallway. The building seemed to be some kind of abandoned office
building. At both ends of the hallway Tom could see the openings to
staircases and windows that were so stained that they barely let through
any light at all.

Tom was taken only a couple of doors down the hall and forced into a narrow
room. Inside were just a bucket and a water hose.

"Use the toilet," the tallest of the guards shouted.

A rope with a rubber hook at the end was hanging from the ceiling. One of
the guards slid Tom's wrist restraint in the hook and it made sure Tom
didn't fall down while he was squatting above the bucket.

The three men stayed right at Tom's side. He was really going to have to do
this. He didn't know if and when he would get a next chance. He let it all
go. Tom was now squatting above the bucket, with his hands suspended on a
hook above him to be able to keep the balance. Silent tears rolled down his
cheeks. Another burst of hopelessness filled his body. He wanted this all
to be a bad dream, or a prank from one of the crazy Asian television
shows. That a TV host now entered the room with rolling cameras and that
everybody started laughing and applauding him.

But Tom knew that wouldn't happen. This was real.

After Tom was finished, two guards pulled him up, turned him around and
held him, while the other one aimed the water hose at him. A strong stream
of water pressed against his body. Not only his butt cheeks were cleaned,
but his whole body received a thorough cleansing.

The guards dragged Tom out of the room. He was still soaking wet when he
entered into a new area of the floor, through the door of what looked like
an examination room.

One of the guards attached Tom's wrist restraints to a hook that was
mounted in the ceiling. The other men were spreading Tom's legs and made
sure they stayed that way by using a spreader bar. It was all happening so
swiftly; they must have done this exact procedure many times before.

Once Tom was put in his place -- his legs wide and his arms tight to the
ceiling -- the guards left. Tom stood in the room and looked around. The
room was all very clean and seemed to have all the equipment a general
practitioner could possibly need, and more. He tried to scream, but his
voice was still raw from his earlier attempt at being heard and with the
gag in his mouth, he knew it was pointless.

A man and a woman, both in their twenties, entered the room. It took a few
seconds before it hit Tom that these were two of the people he had seen in
the bar where he was a*****ed. These two were friends of the boy that had
talked to him, the boy he had seen on the monitor in his cell, wearing an
army-like outfit and carrying an automatic gun.

"Time for your physical", the guy said, giving Tom a disgusted look. Both
he and the girl were wearing clean white lab coats. The guy was acting like
he was the doctor and the girl was the nurse. He said something in Thai and
they both laughed.

The doctor examined his body from head to toe and wrote down every detail
about it. Tom could see the doctor write on a clipboard. It had a drawing
of a body and on dotted lines he made notes in Thai. It wasn't difficult to
figure out that he was writing down things like the color of Tom's eyes,
the length of his hair, the measurements of his head, his upper body and
his arms and legs and also his wrists, ankles and neck... it was more like
a tailor was fitting him for a suit than a doctor checking his health.

While they examined it, the doctor and the nurse got very physical. The
doctor pulled Tom's hair and squeezed his mouth to check his teeth. Tom had
no clue why the doctor also pinched his nipples to the point where Tom let
out a high squeak through the gag that was still in his mouth. The doctor
made notes of everything.

The pinching of the nipples did something to his body. Even though it was
painful, his dick had responded to it and wasn't as soft as it was a minute
ago. The nurse noticed it, grabbed Tom's cock and started jerking it. Tom
desperately didn't want it to, but his cock was in full erection within
seconds.

"You are going to make us a lot of money", the doctor said with a smile on
his face.

Tom understood it was his penis that was being complemented, just like it
had been by many of the girls he had fucked over the last two months. Tom
had never cared about it much, but he knew his was well hung. As the nurse
was now finding out, Tom's thick dick measured 23 centimeters (9") and was
as straight at could be. The foreskin fitted around the head beautifully,
giving just enough room to slide back and forth perfectly.

Without warning, the doctor grabbed Tom's balls and squeezed them hard. If
Tom's arms hadn't been tied to the ceiling, the pain would've forced him on
his knees. Whatever was left of his voice was now being used to express the
pain he was feeling.

The doctor and the nurse laughed as Tom's erection faded.

Tom felt the doctor's hand move to the back of Tom's body. He pressed a
finger up against Tom's butt hole.

"Tight", the doctor said. "Have you ever been fucked, faggot?"

Tom didn't respond, he was still fighting the pain from his squeezed
balls. The pain quickly subsided when it had to make way for the pain from
the punch in the gut that the doctor just gave him.

"HAVE YOU EVER BEEN FUCKED FAGGOT? ANSWER ME!"

Not being able to speak due to both the pain and the mouth gag, Tom moved
his head horizontally, indicating the answer `no'.

"Good", the doctor said. He made a final note on his clipboard and left the
room.

The nurse stayed behind and went on to draw some blood from Tom's arm.
After that, she grabbed some wax and started to remove every hair Tom had
on his body. Only the long blonde hair on his head was left when the nurse
finished her job. Tom's body was now glowing red.

He felt exhausted by the intrusive physical he had received and Tom had no
force left in him to resist when the same guards from before entered the
examination room to take him back to his cell. They surrounded him, making
sure he couldn't escape or resist anything they might force him to do. When
they arrived at the door of Tom's cell, one of the guards got the gag out
of Tom's mouth and handed him a bottle of water and some sort of smoothie.

"Drink both", the guard ordered.

Tom obliged, knowing very well there was nothing to gain from
resisting. Besides, he was extremely thirsty, even without any orders he
would drink the water. The smoothie tasted grainy and fruity. Tom had a
feeling that this was the only meal he would get for a while.

After both drinks were finished, the guards pushed Tom back into his cell
and locked his ankle with the chain that was tied to the floor in the
centre of the room. After they left and closed the door, the lights went
off. Tom was alone in the dark again.

Tom desperately wanted to make sense of all that was happening to him. Why
had they k**napped him? Who were they to begin with? What could the group
of rich students want from him? At what kind of place were they keeping
him? More and more questions popped up in his mind.

Why did they put him through that physical? Are they going to let him do
slave labor? Or even worse, use or sell him as a sex slave to some deviant?
Why did the monitor only show clips of gay porn? Had they mistaken him for
someone else? Didn't they know he wasn't gay? Did they even care?

Tom felt he could guess some of the answers, but he didn't want to. He
needed facts so he could make a plan for how to get out of this fucked up
situation.

He felt he was getting angry. A part was anger at himself, for getting in
the situation in the first place, but most of it was anger towards the son
of the bar owner and his friends, especially the student who acted like a
doctor and hurt Tom by squeezing his balls and punching him in the gut.

If one of them would walk in now, Tom would attack them with all the force
he had in him, whether they were armed or not.

But no one disturbed him for an agonizingly long time. Long enough for the
drinking water to run through his body and fill his bladder and for his
stomach to start demanding more food.

There was no bucket or anything in the room. Even the water bottle that Tom
had finished before being thrown back into the cell, was taken by the
guards. If he had to pee, there was no place for it but the concrete of the
floor. It would be messy.

Tom decided to try and hold off a little longer.

The TV monitor came to Tom's aid by offering a distraction when it
flickered on. It was nice to see some light again, even though it initially
hurt his eyes. The video that was shown was recorded in a cell just like
the one Tom was now in. At first, Tom thought he was watching himself being
recorded by the cctv camera, but then he noticed the timestamp on the
video: It was recorded four years ago. The boy on the floor in the video
wasn't him, but someone else, someone younger than Tom - who was only 19
years old himself.

The footage was in grey scale but the boy seemed to have light hair. He
looked petrified, like he too had just been captured. With everything he
had, he tried to remove the chain from his ankle. A chain just like the one
keeping Tom tied to the middle of the floor. Tom knew the boy's attempts
were pointless and it hurt him to watch the boy try, especially because the
boy was putting so much pressure on his ankle that Tom was afraid it would
snap soon.

Two men entered the cell in the video. They pulled the boy up and Tom could
see that he wasn't very tall and really was young, at least three years
younger than Tom. While one of the men held the boy's hands behind his
back, the other put some sort of apparatus on the boy's penis. Like he was
locking it. It was the end of the clip.

The neon lights in Tom's cell flickered on and the door opened. Tom held
his breath, partly from fear, but mainly with a sense of hope that still
hid within him. Maybe this would be a chance to escape.

The small and thin person that entered Tom's cell was the boy he had just
seen on the monitor.



The boy looked like he aged a decade since the video was taken. He had deep
lines in his face, his hair was shaved and there wasn't a spot on his body
that didn't have a bruise or the mark of some sort of whip on it. The boy
was naked but for an iron collar around his neck and some sort of cage
around his penis. Tom hoped for the boy that it wasn't the same as he had
seen being put on the boy in the video. The video that was recorded four
years ago.

However happy Tom was to see another human being - especially someone that
didn't look aggressive - his body became heavy with disappointment when the
cell door closed right after the boy entered; there was no window of
opportunity for Tom to escape.

Tom looked at the boy. There were so many things he wanted to ask, so many
questions that he hoped the boy could answer. But Tom couldn't find the
words to form a question. His mind was trying its hardest to form a
sentence that would make any sense. Without success. No matter how hard he
tried, the only word his mouth uttered in the end was a cry with barely any
sound: "Help."

The boy ignored it and looked at Tom with absent eyes. He started speaking:
"Listen carefully. I will tell you some basic rules and explain what's
going to happen to you. You can ask questions at the end."

The British accent the boy spoke with fitted his European look. His skin
was pale and looked like it hadn't seen sunlight in a long, long time.

"You are fortunate to have been chosen to serve", the boy continued, "to
serve those who are superior. Those who deserve to be worshipped and to
have lesser people at their will. For inferior beings like you and me there
is not a more privileged duty to be called upon.

"You are now at a processing facility where you are being assessed by
doctors and psychologists. They will compose your slave profile, which will
be used for a blind auction. If there is a buyer willing to pay premium for
an untrained and unbroken slave, you will be transferred to his care. If no
one is willing to pay the target value, you will be trained by the
Group. After training, you will be attending an auction where potential
buyers can see and feel you and get a demonstration before a public bidding
takes place. If you aren't bought, you will continue to work for the Group,
as you by then will have done during training, and at every next auction
your starting value will drop, until someone buys you or you become
worthless.

"But you don't have to worry, you will find your Master soon enough. A boy
with a body like yours, with such a nice figure and with a huge cock like
that, is high in demand. If you're not sold in the blind auction, you
probably will be after training.

"You might not believe it now, but you are very lucky to be chosen for this
new life. You get to worship and serve someone superior. All your decisions
will be made for you and you will take your sole pleasure in the fact that
you are an object of lust, in the ownership of someone better than
yourself. It is like paradise, your only goal in life will be to keep your
owner satisfied. You might not believe it now, but soon that is the only
thing you'll do and, more importantly, the only thing you'll want to do."

Tom couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was this for real? He only had to
glance at the boy in front of him to know that it was dead serious. But all
this talk about being owned, Tom couldn't image what it meant, nor did he
want to find out.

The boy continued.

"These are the rules you will follow:

1. You no longer have a name, you will respond to whatever your superior
calls you. You do have a number. Your number is 237;

2. You didn't have a life before becoming property of the Group. Any
mention of your fantasy of it, is prohibited;

3. You are to fulfill all orders being given by any member of the Group;

4. You are responsible to keep your body and the cell or cage you are
staying in clean at all times. No piss is allowed to be kept in a bottle,
bucket or on the floor;

5. You are never allowed to touch a superior or another slave unless
instructed to do so by a member of the Group;

6. You are never allowed to speak unless instructed to do so;

7. You are never allowed to touch yourself when not in chastity, unless
instructed to do so by a member of the Group.

"If you don't follow the rules, you will be punished accordingly. Your new
owner will have his own rules, but these are the rules while you are in
possession of the Group. You will find that they are put in place to help
you become a true servant. They will make you feel safe."

No matter how unreal that last sentence sounded to Tom, the boy spoke with
conviction; he meant every word he said. For a brief moment, Tom imaged
what he would look like after four years of captivity. Probably nothing
more than a shell of his former self. He could imagine how he would look
physically, after comparing the boy in front of his eyes to the boy he had
seen on the grainy footage. But he couldn't imagine himself being this
brainwashed.

Tom made a promise to himself; he would not let his spirit be broken. No
matter what they would do to him, he would savor at least the tiniest
feeling of hope and keep faith that his chance to get out of this hell
would come.

"Do you have any questions? This is your one and only opportunity to ask
them with permission of the Group", the boy said in a calm fashion. His
appearance hadn't changed at all during anything he had told Tom.

For a moment, Tom thought about not asking anything, he felt resilient and
didn't want to play along anymore. But his disorientation and the dozens of
questions racing through his mind took over, he needed some answers.

"Who are you?" Tom asked.

"I am whatever the Group wants me to be", said the boy.

Tom impatiently dismissed the answer: "But what's your name, where do you
come from? How old are you?"

"I am whatever the Group wants me to be and that's all I want to be."

The boy sounded almost like a robot. Tom asked the next question on top of
his mind:

"Where am I?"

"You're in Thailand, in the domain of the Group. That's all I can tell you
and all you need to know."

"What happens if I'm bought in the blind auction?"

Speaking the words `if I'm bought' aloud gave Tom a nauseous feeling. It
was all very abstract to him, but despite that, he was afraid to hear the
question answered.

"If you are bought at the blind auction, that means you'll be transferred
to your new owner without receiving training by the Group. If you are an
anal virgin and an unbroken slave, your base value will be high, so you
will have to be lucky to be bought by a an owner who is willing to pay that
prize and cares enough about his servants to spend his time and money
breaking them."

"Breaking?", Tom's voice, still worn out from the screams for help, could
only utter whispers thus far. But this word came out loud and clear.

"Yes, of course", the boy said in the same generic way he had answered
every question Tom had fired at him. "You are foul and undeserving, spoiled
by an unbalanced world that has lost track of the natural order. You will
be useless until you know and feel that your only pleasure can come from
serving your superior, your master. Your corrupted soul will have to be
broken in order to fulfill its destiny."

The boy answered with some impatience in his voice this time. It frightened
Tom. Why didn't the boy seem to understand that this whole concept of being
owned -- and especially of being broken -- was so unimaginable for Tom?
"Why are you telling me this", asked Tom.

"Because the sooner you understand and accept the path in front of you, the
better. Once you come to terms with being what you are -- a slave, a toy
for those who deserve to play -- the easier the process will be. You still
have a lot to learn, but learning can be fun and doesn't have to inflict
damage that might discourage potential new owners."

The answer puzzled Tom and he asked what the boy meant.

"The harder the breaking process will be, the less value you will have. If
you have to be hit on every muscle of your body, if all the bones in your
legs have to be broken, it will leave traces. You are smooth now; you have
gorgeous hair, an incredibly beautiful uncaged cock and an ass that has
never been used. The Group wants you to remain this way as long as
possible, because it is good for your market value. You will never be able
to repay the Group for giving you this opportunity, so to accept your
faith, stay in shape and follow their orders is the least you can do."

The boy still didn't make any sense to Tom. The answers Tom was getting
were almost casual, like they were matter of fact and Tom was stupid not to
figure it out himself.

"What happened to you?" It wasn't the question on top of his mind -- that
was `how do I get the fuck out of here' -- but it was the only question Tom
could hope to get a useful answer to, hopefully some information that could
give him a clue about his whereabouts or his captors. Maybe he could use it
to form a plan.

"Unlike you will be, I wasn't an object in the auction after I was chosen
by the Group to serve them. I met a member of the Group online, met him for
a date and was then asked to play a game. I agreed and haven't regretted it
since. He blindfolded me, took me into the basement of a large building and
escorted me into a cell just like the one we're in now. He removed my
blindfold, ordered me to suck him -- which I started to do even before he
finished his sentence -- and after that he fucked me until he came in my
ass. From that moment on, I had found my destiny."

The boy's story couldn't be true. Tom had just seen the footage of him
desperately trying to escape a heavy chain around his ankle, like the one
Tom was tied to at this moment. Before Tom could confront the boy with his
lie, the story continued.

"Because of my age at the time, the Group decided I could serve them best
by staying in their control, pleasuring all men they felt were worthy
superiors, in any way I was ordered. I am proud to have been a personal
object of lust for all of the Group's elite members and their most
respected associates." The boy's battered body could only suggest what the
`elite' had used him for. Maybe he had been young and fresh at the
beginning, but looking at the boy, Tom feared that the so-called superior
men had soon lost interest in the wearing flesh of the teenager and kept
trying new things to get some excitement out of him. Where the hell was
this path of servitude leading the boy? Just another question Tom feared
the answer of.

"I've been told you probably need to piss and I've been ordered to help
you." While he said it, the boy got on his knees and placed his head with
his mouth open just in front of Tom's long but soft penis.

"There's no way I'm going to piss in your mouth", said Tom. "Stand the fuck
up."

"I can't take orders from you. My orders are to swallow your piss. It would
make my masters happy and therefore it will make me happy. Please let me
swallow your piss."

The boy's assessment had been right, Tom really couldn't hold it much
longer. Listening to the boy had helped postpone the urge he felt before,
but now, with the boy explicitly talking about it, Tom knew he was only
seconds away from his bladder forcing out a stream of hot piss.

In an act of defiance, he turned away from the boy and started to piss
towards a corner of the cell. It was a relieve to let go and ignoring the
playbook of his captors felt even better.

"No!", the boy shouted.

He leaped towards Tom and tried to grab Tom's waist so he could throw his
face in front of Tom's penis. But Tom was already standing, so he had the
upper hand and could hold the boy off. A puddle of piss was forming in one
of the corners. The boy, now realizing Tom would not let him come near his
dick, started to lick the piss straight of the ground.

The cell door opened. Two Asian men entered the cell. They weren't the same
as the guards that had escorted Tom to the examination room earlier. These
two men were bigger and looked a lot more intimidating; especially because
of the official security outfit they were wearing. On the side of their
shirt was a nightstick and one of the guards used his in a swift movement
to hit the side of the boy on the ground.

In Thai language, they seemed to order the boy to stop licking the piss off
the ground and to stand up with his face against the wall in front of
him. The most aggressive looking guard grabbed Tom by his hair and forced
his entire body on the ground.

"Lick it up, all of it!" he shouted to Tom, even though he was only about
half a meter from Tom's ears.

Tom refused. The anger he had felt before was still present in his body. In
fact, it was growing within him.

The guard started to smile and said: "Do it, or we kill him." His colleague
swung his rubber stick to hit the boy on all the bruises he already had.

"You have three minutes to lick it all up, or the boy will die. And don't
think we will move him out of here if he does."

Even though the boy made barely any sound, Tom knew the pain had to be
excruciating. This was another battle he couldn't win so he pressed his
mouth against the concrete and slurped the liquid as fast as he could. He
tried not to think about what he was putting in his mouth and swallowed it
as soon as possible.

Even though he tried, he couldn't suppress the taste of his own body
fluid. Much to his own surprise, the taste of the liquid wasn't that
bad. He took it in only a few drops at a time, as much as his tongue and
lips could suck off the floor. It was the taste of the dirty floor that
made Tom's stomach turn, but he knew he had to prevent throwing up. That
would only make things worse. Within a minute, Tom had licked and sucked
it all off the floor and the guard stopped beating the boy.

The boy was still standing with his hands pressed against the wall, but Tom
could see his legs tremble, like he could collapse any second now.

The other guard pulled Tom's hair to get back on his knees and looking
upwards. With his other hand, the guard opened his zipper and got out his
equipment. It was a small cock; soft and almost hidden between a thick bush
of dark pubic hair. While he held his dick with his left hand, his right
hand was still pulling Tom's hair.

"Open your mouth and swallow, faggot", ordered the guard. Tom complied,
still seeing the beaten boy in the corner of his eyes.

A stream of piss entered his throat. This was completely different than the
puddle he sucked of the floor. The piss was warm and had a strong
taste. Tom tried not to think about it and swallow it all as fast as he
could without choking on it. Luckily, the guard already finished after
about ten seconds. After spitting in Tom's face, he let go of Tom's hair.

Tom felt angered and humiliated. He wanted to defy the guards and the group
of people that were holding him captive, but instead of resistance, they
seemed to push Tom further into their grip with every action that was
taking place.

The guard that had just lessened Tom's thirst by sending his piss down
Tom's uneager throat grabbed something out of his pocket. It was a blue
pill and he forced it in Tom's mouth. While he pressed his hand firmly
against Tom's face he ordered -- again - to swallow. Tom's mouth was still
watery, so it wasn't difficult to force the small pill down his throat.

"That's Viagra, which you probably don't need faggot. You are going to fuck
our boy here and you better enjoy it because it might very well be your
last chance ever to dump your seed."

The boy that had been standing against the wall didn't need instructions to
drop to his knees and put his soft lips around Tom's cock. A cock that,
even though it wasn't hard, looked impressive to all the men present in the
cell.

It struck Tom that another man was sucking him, that he was taking part in
gay sex. Despite all the clips he had been shown on the monitor, Tom hadn't
really processed the fact that this whole operation seemed to center around
the lusts and needs of certain gay men. Tom wasn't homophobic; some of his
classmates back in Paris were gay and he had never seen any problem in
their sexuality. Many of the books Tom had read featured gay characters and
Marcel Proust was one of Tom's favorite authors.

It wasn't the physique of the worn out boy that made Tom hard. He still
wasn't what you call horny. But it didn't take his dick long to respond to
the amazing feeling the boy was giving him. While his wet lips slid up and
down Tom's growing cock, the boy's tongue played with the uncovered knob
and touched all the right places. Neither Tom's ex girlfriend nor any of
the girls he had sex with during his trip in Asia had given him this
feeling. His cock was throbbing but no matter how hard it got, the boy took
it deep in his throat. Whether he wanted to or not, Tom was enjoying the
perfect blowjob. Even though it came from a boy... this abused, beaten and
brainwashed boy.

The boy stopped, pulled his mouth away and turned around, pointing his ass
towards Tom. There was no hair on his body. Tom noticed a trail of precum
dripping from the cage around the boy's penis. The boy couldn't get hard
with the construction around it, but it looked like he would've been
otherwise. How could he enjoy being abused like this, Tom would've asked
himself if he didn't have a more urgent situation on his mind. He had to
fuck the boy in front of him.

"Do it", the boy said. "I want it. There's nothing I want more. Fuck me."

Tom glanced at the guards. They stood below the camera, probably because
they didn't want to be in the footage. Tom realized him being sucked,
drinking piss and fucking the boy was all part of the assessment the boy
had talked about. Would the video make its way to the men bidding in the
auction? Another question Tom didn't have time for. When Tom noticed one of
the guards reaching for his weapon, Tom moved forward and pressed his cock
against the boy's ass.

It was different from fucking a girl. Very different. Tom tried to
penetrate the boy's ass and expected his cock to go in smoothly, but it was
dry and pushing too hard didn't feel comfortable. He needed some sort of
lubricant, but there wasn't any around. There was still some of the boy's
saliva on Tom's 23 centimeters, but was it enough to fuck with?

"Fuck me, fuck me deep!"

The boy sounded eager, but if this was already hurting Tom, wouldn't it be
much worse for him? Tom grabbed the boy's thin waist and pressed their
bodies against each other. Tom's dick slid in inch by inch. He moaned,
partly from the pain the raw ass was inflicting on his cock, but, the
further he penetrated the boy, the more the moans were caused by pleasure.

He was now all the way in and moving back and forth. The feeling was
amazing. It was so tight and felt so raw, so pure without any rubber or
lubricant between their bodies. They had overcome a shared pain and were
now reaping the pleasures of their perseverance. Tom forgot about the
guards, the cell and all the rest for a brief moment. For a moment it all
felt right. He felt a connection with the boy that was taking him. Not an
emotional one, but a physical one. It was the kind of physical connection
Tom had promised himself to look for when he was in that plane to
Singapore.

The moment ended abruptly when one of the guards ordered Tom to fuck the
boy harder.

Tom felt the anger inside him boil up again. Only this time there was a way
to release the anger; by fucking the boy harder and harder. Tom was doing
exactly what the guard had told him to do, but not because he wanted to
follow the order. He needed this physical release.

He fucked the boy so hard and so deep, that the boy couldn't help but moan.
Tom's movements were out of his control. His body had taken over. After
less than a minute, Tom wrapped his arms around the boys upper body and
pressed it against his own while an explosion of seed filled the boy deep
within.

"Perfect", said one of the guards.

When Tom let go of the boy and he slid his still hard cock out of his cum
dump, he noticed there was blood dripping from the boy's ass. He had abused
the boy and he had enjoyed it.






Tom's entire life had been nothing short of luxury. He grew up in a fancy
Parisian neighborhood and his parents made sure he had everything he could
wish for. His father was a pilot and often wasn't home for long periods of
time. After every long journey, he would bring Tom gifts, like special
editions of Tom's favorite books.

Another benefit of his father's job, were the exotic holidays during the
summer break. He and his family often traveled to parts of the world where
all their Parisian comforts weren't so common, like South America, Asia and
even parts of West Africa. Tom appreciated the perspective on the world
that the trips.

Having seen the contrast, Tom never asked for much back home. He knew he
had he was well off and fortunate to be born in this family. His mother
made sure Tom got a good education, healthy nutrition and all the comforts
a teenage boy could need: Trendy clothes that Tom didn't really care about,
a fresh hair cut every two months and his mother was more than happy to
drive him to all his tennis lessons and tournaments.

His growth spurt kicked in around when Tom was twelve and he quickly
developed a tall, slim body. It was never very strong, but always looked
athletic. His muscles needed only little training to become apparent. But
Tom never liked getting physical. He avoided participating in the games of
football that were always going on at the playground and only played
tennis. The only time he got hurt at playing tennis was when his frustrated
opponent couldn't take the 6-0, 6-0 beating and threw his racket after
missing a smash. It hit Tom right on his left knee and hurt like hell. Tom
never liked physical pain. He tried to avoid the feeling any way he could.

But now, locked up in a Thai cell by human traffickers, Tom was afraid he
wouldn't be able to avoid physical pain much longer.

Many hours, maybe even days had passed since Tom was forced to fuck the
boy. After he had filled the boy's ass with his cum, the guards opened the
cell door and walked out. The boy followed them, but not before he turned
towards the cctv camera in the corner and said `Thank you, Sir', while
keeping his eyes towards the floor.

The cell door was still open when Tom was the only one left, but because of
the steel chain around his ankle, he couldn't use the opportunity to
escape. The chain was beginning to leave marks and started to irritate
Tom's skin. The guards soon returned and both carried a bucket of water
that they splashed on Tom. They left only to return with two refilled
buckets. This time just one of the buckets was emptied on Tom while the
other was put on the floor.

"Use this to keep yourself clean", the guard said.

The guard placed two bottles of drinking water next to the bucket. As soon
as the guards left him, Tom drank one of the water bottles to try and get
the taste of the guards piss out of his mouth.

He was left alone for a long time and it took a toll on him mentally. Tom
imagined he was seeing things in the dark cell, like someone standing in
the corner or images popping up on the tv monitor, but in reality nothing
was happening. The extreme hunger that Tom was experiencing must have been
the reason for it. He felt empty and weak in his body.

It bothered Tom that he got erect and horny from time to time. Even though
his mind didn't want him to enjoy fucking the boy, his body had greatly
enjoyed it and kept reminding him, getting his dick to grow to its full 9"
length.

Tom knew the easiest way to get rid of it was to use his hands - and he
did. It only took a couple of minutes masturbating to cum on the bare skin
of his smooth body. Afterwards, he used the water in the bucket to clean
up, afraid of possible consequences if he didn't.

After what felt like an eternity, the door opened and a guard came in with
a bowl of rice in lukewarm water.

Tom forced himself to focus and make sure that he was really seeing it,
that the guard and the bowl