Hunter shows off his prize he found in the gym locker room. No smart man would let an unlocked, uncollared, unmarked slave or faggot walk around, so this one must be up for grabs. This isn’t unusual; sometimes it’s just easier to rehome boys this way. The paperwork can come later. A couple other guys pause to congratulate Hunter on seeing the prize first and snagging him; the boi gets a few playfuls smacks on his balls and ass for good luck. The boi likes the sound of Hunter’s voice and hopes this Master will be kinder than the last; he has a nice cock too and the boi looks forward to making a good first impression.
Text is fictional. Watermarked.
You know how when you were a kid and you’d tripped and fallen on the sidewalk, your grandfather used to joke that he could slap you somewhere else, and then you wouldn’t care about the pain of your skinned knee because you’d have some different pain to worry about?
That’s what it was like. Travis had the biggest dick of any of ‘em—for all it appeared to be a spur-of-the-moment, spurred-by-his-glance-at-one-of-their-crotches-lasting-just-a-second-too-long gangfuck, they’d worked out the order carefully in advance—but as he slid in, the pain of being torn up wasn’t what was making Matty whimper and whine and tear up.
It was the camera.