Buttoms Up was not dark but dimly light. And, best of all, not loud, especially at this early hour of 6 PM. It is one of the few gay bars that hosted an after-work crowd of mostly businessmen. Most men here were men, not silly boys. They wore suits with ties and leather street shoes. Just what I always look for.
I entered and walked over to the snack table. Nice. As usual, I noticed several men eyeing me over. I ignored them, but I was dressed as man-bait. I ordered a cocktail and sat by myself at a table with 2 chairs to alluringly sip my drink and slowly enjoy my small plate of crackers and cheeses.
I went to a bar only once a month or less because I did not want to be seen as a regular. I prefer to come across as a new, out-of-place, mysterious twink. A lad who may seem lost or lonely. I had not been to this particular bar before, the Bottom's Up.
I avoided making eye contact for the first 10 or 15 minutes as I sat there watching the colossal TV wall-mounted monitor displaying disco sounds and images, but not loudly as most bars do.
So, what was I wearing? Not a business suit, but what a business-suited man would likely be attracted to. I wore a pink short-sleeved shirt open to the waist with a black T-shirt underneath. And turquoise cotton shorts, not too tight. I wanted to look sexy and inviting but not like a cheap, sleazily hustler. I wore Flip-Flops on my bare feet. I like these because when I sit on a high bar stool with my feet dangling, I will let the flip-flops slip off my feet. Gay guys, like these old gay farts, love my naked, sexy toes. Nonchalantly, I'd continuously wiggle my toes. It was part of my mating call. I stared frustratingly at my cell phone and pushed buttons as if trying to get it to work.
"Hey, son, how are you doing this evening?" BINGO! A handsome man said after approaching me. I didn't mind the 'son' term. "My name is Jenson."
"Oh," I said as I looked up with pretend surprise. "Hi, I'm Rhett. Would you like to have a seat?" I figured Jenson to be in his early 50s.
He sat and placed his drink next to mine. OK, here's the deal. Hopefully, I'm going to hustle some well-intended GAY man here tonight. But I don't want to waste my time on a fag dude who is not going to respond sexually to me. I aim to figure him out sooner rather than later, and if he is not interested, I'll move on to the next handsome, well-suited target.
He smiled, "You know, you're not supposed to be barefoot in here. Bars are classified as restaurants." Then added," but I don't mind, you have sexy toes." He chuckled.
"Oh, I'm sorry. But I stumbled when I got out of my car and tripped on the curb. I messed up my ankle." I told him as I lifted my right foot, placed it across my left thigh, and started rubbing it.
"Here, I'm a doctor. Let me see it." Right, he's a doctor. Whether he is or is not played into my hands.
I lifted my bare foot and set it on his suited lap, but not just the one foot, both of them. He didn't question it. 'Doctor’ Jenson looked at it carefully and rubbed it lightly.
"Boy, it feels good to stretch out my legs." I oohed as he rubbed the one bare foot first and then the other. I moved my heels slightly over his crotch as if I were adjusting my position and stretching out my tight leg muscles. I could feel his developing boner as he massaged my feet. BINGO again!
We started to chat about small stuff, but he never stopped rubbing my bare feet. "So, Rhett, what brings you to Bottom's UP tonight? The fundraiser?"
"No, just boredom, I guess. Just wanted to get out of my apartment and be in the company of some nice men for a change." I emphasized the word 'nice.' I walked in here and didn't notice any sign about a fundraiser. This must be some new gimmick for the bar to liven things up. Only two dozen guys were in here so far, and no one was dancing. How strange. It must be awkward to get a new thing started.
"Oh? Why do you say that? Someone not treating you right?"
"Sorry, Doc, I didn't mean to bring that up, but not every man is nice, kind, and considerate." He was being parental and attentive. Bingo! Then I noticed he was wearing a nice expensive watch, a Rolex, with lots of jewels. Bingo! Oh my! OK, no more Bingos' but everything was falling into place. This guy was now mine.
"So, you and your boyfriend fought?"
“No, I'm not gay. I'm straight. I just wanted to be with gay men because they are always so pleasant to be around. And I could use some pleasant."
"I never thought about it that way. But yeah, I guess gay men are more sensitive. At least, that's the scoop. I guess it's true. So…. You never did anything sexual with men?"
"Well, years ago, I was experimental for a bit. But, no doubt, I am straight. Sorry."
"No need to apologize. Straight is fine, too."
"I can tell a lad like you needs to be appreciated and treated right no matter if gay or straight." He paused, then added, "Say, can I get you another drink?"
"Sure, a Tom Collins, please." He signaled Ted, the bartender, to come over. The place was not busy at this early hour, so he hopped over and took our order. When he returned, the Doc took out his wallet and thumbed through an appreciable stack of hundred-dollar bills to find a fifty. Wow! Did I luck out, or what? "Keep the change."
Here's the thing. YES, I AM STRAIGHT! I come to gay bars to meet gay men who think they can turn me gay. That's what I want. But not just to meet any gay men, WEALTHY GAY MEN. I come across as wounded and unsure. I gain their trust and slowly weasel my way into their life, at least in the short term. Then… I take them for all they have: money, jewelry, whatever. I'm in it for the loot. And if I have to suck a bit of dick along the way, fine. It's usually worth the prize money.
I took a large gulp of my drink and found it strong. It must have been pure alcohol. I guess the bartender was being very generous to me. Bar owners like cute, sexy guys like me coming in frequently. I'm used to being treated special.
Then, Doc asked the bartender, "By the way, Ted, I'm here because I saw the ad for a fundraiser. Just how does that work?"
"Oh, it's new. We haven't even put signs up yet, just the notices in the gay papers." Did I just see the bartender wink at the Doc? Or was there something in his eye? "But it's simple. Starting at 7 PM, in about 15 minutes, I draw a name out of the jar, and that person is the lucky one who gets to be the helper in raising money to build the new gay center. He becomes the star of the night."
"Well, that sounds exciting," Doc said. "But, how do you raise money?"
"If a patron wants the special helper to do something, such as sing, dance, or tell jokes, he will pay the fund, $5 if the helper does it. Every time the helper completes a request, $5 goes into the fund. It can go on for hours."
"Sounds like the fundraiser is a fun-raiser." They both laughed.
I knew nothing about this fundraiser, but it might be interesting to watch.
Then Ted handed tiny pieces of paper to Jenson and Rhett. "Just write your names on these, and I'll add them to the jar for the drawing."
"I don't really want to do this," I told him as I embarrassingly slurred my words.
“Hey, Rhett, it's all in good fun and for an important cause." Jenson encouraged me, “Besides, you’re probably not lucky enough to be picked.” He chuckled and I conceded, returning my paper to the bartender.
Jenson and Rhett continued their small talk, and at one point, Jenson took my drink away. It was odd since he bought it. I guess he didn’t want me to get wasted. I could see that. Getting tipsy is cute. Getting drunk is disgusting. I think he wants me to be cute. I liked that he was looking out for me. No one ever did that.
The bar attendance quickly increased as 7 PM approached. All the regulars knew that the first Friday of every month was some special event. Noting specific was announced beforehand, but everyone knew it was ‘crazy night.’ There must have been 50 guys in here now.
The music was turned off, then, "OK, folk. My name is Ted, and I will be the MC for tonight. It's time for the fundraiser to begin. I thank all of you for participating. I have everyone's name in here," he said, holding up a large wide-mouth jar. "Now, if one of you kind gentlemen would reach in and pick a name, we'll see who the lucky helper is." He held the jar to the fellow beside him, who picked out one piece of paper and handed it to the bartender. Ted unfolded it and called out, "Rhett," and then pretended to look around to see who the 'mysterious' Rhett was." Of course, all the papers were blank. Even the papers Jenson and Rhett wrote on were tossed.
"Rhett, please step forward. You are the winner." There was no stage. Rhett just went over to the bartender standing in the center of the room, surrounded by seated patrons. Everyone applauded and cheered the cute young man. Bottoms Up was now crowded, and Ted and Rhett were standing in only a two-foot clear space, so everyone was very close. The guys nearest to Rhett could just reach out and touch him.
How amazing that Rhett was chosen. Well, not really. You see, on this special night, Ted and Jenson were both members of the Masters’ Club, as were many of the guys in this bar.
The Masters’ Club used Bottoms Up on the first Friday of each month to find their next prey, and the bar owner allowed them because their process provided great entertainment for regular customers.
Jenson was the Club’s lead man in finding new “meat,” so he approached Rhett as his first choice to check out for suitability. Ted was working with Jenson to set this all up. That’s why the bartender made the boy’s drink almost pure. It was to make him more… ah… agreeable. But Jenson didn’t allow the boy to finish it. He would have been too drunk, and Jeson wanted him sober enough to be aware of everything that would happen… to him. The directors of the Club had a regular selection plan, but the details always played out differently due to the chosen individual's varying actions and reactions. That made their event so fucking interesting! The other patrons were quietly told that a fun event was about to happen and to cheer and go along with what others were doing.
"As you know," Ted continued, "our little, cute, sexy helper here, Rhett," Ted paused. “And how old are you, Rhett?”
“22,” I pretended to be embarrassed.
“So, our cute, 22-year-old winner will happily comply with any of your wishes." Then Ted added, "Providing you old farts pay up!" Everyone laughed. "So, who wants to see him dance or perhaps sing a song?"
"I want to kiss him. Can I get a kiss for my $5?" an older man asked, smiling.
Without asking Rhett, Ted shouted, "Of course." And then nudged Rhett a couple of feet over to the bidder, who immediately stood up, held the sides of the boy's head in his hands, and planted a big, long kiss on Rhett's mouth. The boy had a surprised look on his face, but he wasn't allowed any time to react or express himself. Rhett found it weird as a straight lad, but going along with the game was okay. After all, he wanted to impress Dr. Jenson. So, kissing a man was OK, as long as it did not go any further, sexually.
"That was great, Rhett. You are such a fine lad, and you just added this gentleman's $5 to the fund. Thank you so much. What a great sport!"
"I… I… I… didn’t know…” The boy sputtered.
"Five dollars for a kiss!" another man yelled out.
"Sold!" Called out Ted. And again, Rhett was immediately nudged in the other direction to a short, chubby man.
“Come close, baby. I want a tongue kiss." And the guy grabbed Rhett's head aggressively and tried to insert his tongue into the boy's mouth. Rhett was stunned and didn't respond.
"He's not opening his mouth."
"What do you expect, Sir?” Ted called out, “A French kiss is an additional $5 in the pot. Ain't that right, Rhett?” But the confused boy still did not respond. The bidder produced a second five-dollar bill. "OK, Rhett, you must French him now." And the man did succeed in inserting his tongue. Everyone cheered.
"That was great, Rhett, Just great,"
"But, I don't want to… to… I mean, I was going to dance…."
"Five dollars for the Flip-Flops," a young blonde bidder."
Ted asked Rhett, "Do you want to donate your Flip-Flops for five dollars?" The boy shook his head no.
"That's a no, laddy. It's five for each one," said Ted. The blonde held up ten bucks, and everyone applauded. Rhett just looked up at Ted with a blank stare.
"You have to give them to him," Ted prompted, "he did accept your offer, right?"
Rhett slipped them off in a daze and handed them to the blonde.
"Five for the pink shirt," a patron in the back, sitting at the bar, yelled out.
"I don't mind Rhett giving you his wonder shirt, but not for five dollars. Come on, man, this is a fundraiser!" Then Ted turned to Rhett, "What's your shirt worth?"
"What?"
"What did your shirt cost you?"
"Oh, $20. It was on sale at Walmart, and I was going to…"
Ted cut him off, "When new, his shirt was 20 bucks, but now that he wore it, it has a wonderful sexy smell… let's say 40 bucks."
"SOLD!" Came the immediate response.
"Wonderful, Rhett! Go ahead and take it off. It now belongs to the handsome man at the bar."
"But, I don't want to… I mean... this is my sh…" As Rhett resisted and whined, Ted unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off."
"That's great, Rhett. You just made $40 for the new center building fund. You are so fabulous! Let's all give Rhett a big hand." Everyone applauded as Rhett was nudged between each of the tightly packed bar tables through the crowd of men, all patting him on the back… well… on his back, shoulders, and ass.
"OK, now, as Rhett returns to the center, who will bid $5 to see him dance?"
"How much for the Turquoise shorts?" a guy in a formal tux called out.
Ted wanted to tease the group. "How much do you think his shorts are worth?
"$50. I'll donate $50 to the fund for the shorts."
"Well, let's make this interesting. Ted looked out the crowd, maybe 80 guys now, "Who will bid more?
"$75!" from another.
"85!" from a third guy.
"$100!" Bid the tux.
"SOLD!" Ted yelled enthusiastically. Cheers and applause filled the room.
Ted told Rhett, loud enough for all to hear, "Boy, I sure hope you have clean underwear on!" Another roar of laughter from the crowd.
As the handsome man in the tuxedo came forward to claim his purchase, Rhett was trying to remember what underwear he had on. He was so stressed out he could not remember.
Without waiting for direction or permission, The tux man kneeled, then unbuttoned and unzipped the shorts and slowly wiggled them down Rhett's slender, sexy hips. It's not that they were tight. He just wanted to make a sexy show of getting his prize.
As they dropped to his bare feet, and the boy stepped out of them, Ted shouted, as loud as he could, "LOOK EVERYONE, A TINY POLKA DOT STRING BIKINI!" Cheers and laughter filled the bar. Rhett was so embarrassed. His head was spinning. It was from the weird stress, embarrassment, public humiliation, as well as the strong drinks he had. Yes, it consisted of a tiny triangle in the front and a slightly larger triangle in the back, attached at the bottom tips, with two tiny strings holding the two pieces together at the hips.
Rhett would wear sexy, skimpy underwear to a gay bar, so when he went to the restroom and lowered his pants to pee, whoever else was in there would get hard just looking at him. It was part of Rhett’s plan of seduction.
So all he wore now was his tiny string polka dot bikini and a black T-shirt. His Fip-Flops were long gone.
$200 for the T-shirt!" A guy in a construction outfit wearing jeans and work boots bid.
"SOLD!" Ted yelled with no hesitation. "Come and take your prize."
The rugged man came to the center. "What is your name, Sir?” Ted asked.
"They call me Bossman. I'm the foreman on the site."
"Well, Mr. Bossman, the Tee is all yours."
Bossman first rubbed his hands all over the black shirt, giving special attention to the nipples, pinching them. Then Ted added, "OK, just take his fucking shirt; there's no need to make love to it." More raucous laughter.
Bossman leaned over and kissed the twink boy's stunned-open mouth. "OK, for $200, I guess we can give you a little bonus, Mr. Bossman," Ted said, and everyone cheered.
The bidder then grabbed the T-shirt at the bottom and slowly, very slowly, pulled it up and off the boy's head and upward off his arms. "Nice," he said as he returned to his seat, holding the shirt to his face and inhaling the wonderful boy order.
"Dear sweet boy, you are such a good sport. You have helped us raise a lot of money so far. Thanks. Wonderful. But this is all due to our generous bidders. Do you think you should thank them?" Then Ted placed the mic in front of Rhett's lips. "What do you have to say, Rhett?"
The boy was stunned, in a daze. Standing there in only his obscene triangle polka-dot bikini. "Ah, yes, thank you for bidding, guys. Thank you all. I'll take my seat now." He mumbled.
"Of course, you may sit down just as soon as the bidding process ends."
"But I have no more clothes to bid on. Can I do something else besides lose my clothes?" The other odd thing that Rhett did not catch on to is that no one put any money in the fund jar. He saw a lot of guys raising their hands with fives, tens, and twenties, but no one actually turned the money over. Too bad he didn't notice that. It would have signaled to him that the bidding and the entire fundraiser itself… was a ruse.
"Well, let's see." Ted looked at the large audience of lusty men. "Does anyone want to bid on this lad doing something entertaining?"
"$100, if I can just check out his skimpy, tiny sexy bikini. I want to feel it. It's so cute." A man named Jonathan asked.
"Sure, Rhett will let you.”
“But I want him in a particular position so he won’t push my hands away, like on a table.”
“You’re kind of picky there, fellow. That’ll cost you more.”
“How much more?”
“Well, let’s let Rhett decide, and his word will be final, OK?” Rhett had had enough. He was not going to allow anyone to grope his bikini-covered dick. No way! “What do you think, Rhett? He’s not buying your bikini. He just wants to touch it while you lay passively on a table. So, that should not be too high a price. Right? So, how much more, Rhett?”
Again, Ted placed the mic to the boy’s lips. Rhett felt no one would bid over 100 to feel him up, so he could keep his dignity, what was left of it, if he named a high price. Perfect! Perfect and clever! With a lot of pent-up nervous energy, the boy yelled out, “1,000 dollars.”
“SOLD!” What? Rhett couldn't believe it! Did someone just pay $1,000 just to touch his bikini? He felt dizzy.
“Congratulations, Micheal.” Michael was one of the directors of the Masters’ Club. “You get to touch Rhett’s bikini while he lays motionless on the table.” Still, Rett never noticed that no money was forked over. Well, he was truly freaked out by all the stripping and laughter and cheers.
“OK, Michael, Let’s place him as you want.”
Rhett was dizzy. He was woozy. Shaking as he stood there, thinking, "He just paid $1,000 to touch me? How does he want me? What does that mean?"
Jonathan came up, "He looks like he's a little shocked by all our attention. Let's have him lay on one of these tables." The two guys at the immediate table stood up and stepped back as they cleared their drinks off. "This is great. Thanks guys. A couple of you lift him up and set his back on the tabletop."
These were little 30-inch square bar tables. They set his lower back on one edge of the table, allowing his head to lean down and off the opposite edge. Because the table was so small, his legs dangled to the floor. So the table supported from his shoulders to his hips. "Hey guys," Ted said, "he must be uncomfortable like this, with his head handing off the table. How about you two guys hold his head and neck up level, and… you other two guys hold his legs up." Ted directed.
"OK, Jonathan, is this OK for you? Can you feel up his little panties now?" Ted asked, and everyone laughed at the word "panties."
"Well, almost," Then he directed the leg holders to move the boy's legs wider apart. They did. "OK, know we need more of you to hold his arms out. I don't want him pushing my hands away as I feel him up. After all, I just paid $1,000 to touch his bikini, and I don’t want him interfering with my pleasure." Two more men gladly came forward, each picking up and holding an arm.
"This is great." And Jonathan began to light rub and tease Rhett's polka dot triangle, feeling the outline of his dick. “Oh, this lad is so sexy."
"$100 to let me suck his toes," a gentleman holding the boy's right foot bid, and before Ted could say yes, the guy holding the left foot bid $200. “Yes, and Yes, go ahead, you two. Suck all the toes you want.”
"$300 if I can play with his nipples," Ted just nodded. Money meant nothing, no one paid. So, that man first teased, tickled, scratched, and then sucked on the boy's nipples alternatingly. Everyone was gathered close around, reaching in to touch the held-down boy or at least watched intently. Everyone was lost in a frenzy.
Something very odd struck Rhett. He began to think, “These men want me. Fuck, they were paying money just to touch me! They liked me.” He felt amazing! He was surprised that he enjoyed all this attention, even in his submissive situation. And… no one paid any money to act out their various requests.
There was 22-year-old Rhett, a straight lad with a raging boner peeking out from under his tiny polka-dot triangle. Ted had to step back. He lost control of the "fun-raiser." That was fine. Everyone was having a good time at Rhett's expense. Or… at Rhett’s pleasure?
One fellow, named Jasper, was videoing the entire event. It seemed weird to do at a public gay bar activity. Stange? And he was not even a Board member. He was the webmaster of an underground gay website called GayTies.com. This video and videos of the other slave-training videos can be seen on GayTies.com.
Without even pretending to bid, the man holding Rhett's head, opened his own zipper and let out his flaccid dick, moving his hips to have the tip placed on Rhett's lips. The dick man whispered to Rhett, "Just relax your jaw,” as he lowered the boy's head a few inches. This caused Rhett's mouth to open and the dick to slip between the boy’s lips. "That’s a good boy. Just open wide." He did not realize he was swallowing a man's hardening dick. He didn't know what he was doing but was obeying all commands.
Teasing the boy's polka dot triangle, Jonathan slowly untied the side strings and let the bikini fall to the floor. Ted did not miss that and quickly stooped down and grabbed it. He now had his special reward. Ted was so happy. He sniffed and licked the polka dots.
Then Jonathan bent way over and licked Rhett's now firm and twitching dick. He was an expert at edging. He licked it like an ice cream cone. He didn’t suck it. He tongued it, worshipped it, and made love to it. Rhett's hips automatically jerked up and down. He was fucking something but didn't even think about who or what it was. The boy sucked the dick in his mouth and pushed his hips upward as high as possible, but the mouth working his dick moved upward as well, denying the boy the friction he needed to blast off.
The guy holding one of the boy's arms loosened his pants and inserted the boy's hand into his underwear, placing his big manly balls in Rhett’s palm, which caused Rhett to wiggle his fingers. The other hand holder saw it and also put the hand he was holding into his underwear and made sure his dick was being finger-tickled by the incoherent boy.
When the hand holders were not getting enough finger wiggling, one winked to the other as he tickled the out-stretched underarm. That tickling of each armpit caused the boy to wiggle his fingers more aggressively, pleasing the two men and causing him to suck the dick in his mouth harder.
All of a sudden, one of the patrons took an empty long-necked beer bottle and slowly pushed it into the boy's asshole. Remember, Rhett is straight; he never had anything up his asshole before, but his body was spasming all over. And the guys holding up his feet and licking them caused Rhett to jerk his hips more. His armpits were viscously tickled as his super sensitive nipples, each sucked and nibbled by different men, made the boy feel dizzy. It was like an out-of-body experience.
His entire body began flailing as these experienced and talented men maneuvered it to do. With no one sucking Rhett’s straining, bobbing, begging dick, he could no longer accept the intense need to climax, the need the men would not let be satisfied. After all, 22-year-old straight Rhett was their toy, the bar patrons' night’s entertainment, and, more importantly, the Masters’ club’s new sub-trainee.
Rhett’s body increasingly jerked, spasmed, and twitched ever more fiercely… until, at some point, the boy PASSED OUT! Oddly, his boy’s body remained jerking and trembling for several minutes, but he was consciously… gone.
Even so, the guy slowly working the elongated neck of the beer bottle in and out of Rhett’s asshole caused the boy to EXPLODE in multiple blasts! It was the most beautiful explosion of an unconscious lad ever. He came, or more accurately, the men caused him to cum all over the men who were nearby. And then the boy’s towering dick subsided. They slowly released his limbs and let his head and shoulder gently fall back. Everyone applauded and shouted as they stepped back, drinking in this delicious vision of this naked, “straight, top” boy.
Ted nodded to Jenson, "He's all yours to continue our business plan. Take him to your place, as we agreed, OK?” Jenson and the others were so pleased it had all gone better than expected.
Two of the men carried the naked boy to Jenson's car, as Jenson led the way. The little twink straight boy, who had always been a top and always in control, has provided a full night of entertainment. The first of many nights to come. Jenson drove him to his home. Or rather, to the mansion he (and others) pretended was his home. And the scheme continues.
The following day, Jenson and Rhett had a long talk. Jenson was dressed in his suit, and Rhett was sitting up in bed, naked but covered. It was helpful for both to understand each other.
"Ah, Sir? Where are my clothes?"
"Rhett, what do you remember about last night?"
"Ah, it was a fundraiser, and they were auctioning off my clothes," Then he said to himself, "Oh, so that's where my clothes went." He thought more, "and some guy wanted to kiss me. I told him no, but it was a fundraiser for a good cause. After that, everything got fuzzy. I think I over-drunk or something. I am so sorry. I must have acted stupid. I don't remember, except the guys seemed to like me and applauded and cheered me on, maybe when I was singing a song and dancing, but I'm not sure."
"Yes, you have a lovely voice," Jenson lied. "Too bad about your clothes, but you did a hell of a job in raising money for the new community center." He paused, "As for your clothes, don't worry about them. You look great naked." He chuckled.
"But I need my …"
Jenson interrupted, "I did think some of the guys were getting a little handsy, so I pushed them away and brought you here with me."
"You rescued me?"
To be continued…..
I will upload the next chapter in a few days. Thanks for reading.
Let me know what you think of this story. I'm open to comments and suggestions as I write. My email is: [email protected]
