A Piercing Aquaintance

The party got underway Friday morning, as the last of the delivery people dropped off food and kegs of beer. Fifty fold up chairs, and a two large open tents were delivered and set up. It was a very efficient process from the happy vendors; as, they had good business from the Millionaires across the lake.

Neighbors, farm worker families, had seen this kind of activity before, and heard rumors from spying children; so, they walked to the curb to watch, as in a parade.  

Master’s in leather, with their barely clad bitches, drove by, on the throaty and loud bikes; one after another. After which, a close formation of lesbians in business like ‘Men in Black’ attire, also on big Harleys, slowly rode by — some with shot guns dangling next their leather chapped legs. 

Short hair drove in front— serious as a heart attack, with don’t fuck with me looks; and, hugging from behind, buxom, lip stick beauties, some wearing flannel plaid shirts, their young hair flowing like the wake from a boat — and they waved cheerfully; horny, feeling the throttling of the bike. 

The country children excited by the noise, music, and chrome, jumped about and waved back, as their hard bitten mothers stood cradling infants — looking toward the gay person’s, Brockton’s house, and spat out short comments to one another, only then laughing, as party goers streamed in.

Shelly organized with the other dominant women, and set up in the guest house. The Masters went to the main house or set up tents, given their familiarity and interests with Master Charles. Two nice RV trailers drove in the size of city buses. Parking was becoming scarce but the slaves busily managed the flow; so, no frustrations at this venue. 

Officer Biddy watched with binoculars from his oaken perch, as if Russia was rolling into Poland.

He’d never had a party.

Slave was tasked with offering beverages and treys of food. He and Alpha had prepared the week before … and, much of the finger food, with haste, the night, before. 

He walked about naked, but for his collar, cock cage, and with  white cotton sock balls from the heels of his black boots; as, did Alpha; though, Alpha had a bow tie secured to a nice fitting collar — He clearly was the ‘go to’ man. 

Only slave seemed to be freely groped and fondled, and even had his ass slapped upon his rounds — He was a magnet, even for the women too, who commented upon his chastity cage and smooth hairless body — and tattoo upon his ass, which couldn’t be seen well unless he bent over; so, he got requests to bend over more than a few times…  ‘’ and spread those cheeks boy!’’ One gregarious lesbian demanded.

The party going dominants wasted no time in presenting their slaves as trophies, as their slaves were made naked, but for collars, and some were painted colorfully or decorated with glitter; and then they offered Charles, slave or Alpha their assistance. 

Twelve boys by noon, slave counted; four around his age, but the others years older. 

He notified all of them that there was to be a slave boy presentation — or ‘show and tell’ just after dark where prizes would be given to sexiest and prettiest. 

Coming from him, he was  slow on the uptake when he was treated to their annoyance, rude remarks, or ridicule.

Not all were in cock cages; and one assumed, some had taken viagra, as hard dicks seemed to sprout without rhyme or reason.

One slave was attached to the X-Cross and left to stay there for some infraction — Master Charles took him down after an hour, and took him to have a talk with the boy’s Master. 

Some yards away re-bar was laid over a pit of charcoal, already burning; wherein, a prepared pig was lain by some men — with an apple in it’s mouth. A rusty old wheel barrow was turned over it, as a lid, with ‘piggy’ painted boldly on it.  The smell of barbecue pig soon filled the air.

Much entertainment centered on the young slaves under the tent prior to it being covered with plywood, as Master Charles had laid down a putting green a few years earlier for his own amusement, just at that spot. 

The well clipped grass on a level surface of 5 holes and 5 chrome putters to choose from, where visitors could practice their skills in golf, edged right against the low wall in front of where the audience’s chairs were placed. The slaves were put to use to arrange themselves in various positions, to bank and bounce the golf balls from their bodies to the holes, as one might find in an amusement park for games — also a sheet of plexiglass had been cut into strips and edges softened, so the flexible strips would be twisted and curved for difficult shots around the naked boys body’s, and to be used to direct the golf ball in convoluted directions. The results in many cases could be fraught with frustrations, much as Alice in wonderland experienced with the the flamingos not cooperating; since, the boys would move about to give the best plays to their Masters or twerking their rear ends in teasing ways to distract oppoenents. A sling where fist fucked boys lay spread eagle at the end of the course, provided the last hole to be sank, and the winner would get a 50 dollar prize. Cheers, catcalls, and even a few boos could be heard down  the street by the locals that issued  from the amused audience.

                         ——————————   

About a two hundred yards away a yellow school bus, the short version one sees in school mornings, usually used for challenged students, sat under cover of brush and bushes in a shady tree line — only another fifty yards from where Officer Biddy sat in the tree.

’’Do you hear that! There are four other ‘bacha’ boys already there… about ‘My’ slave’s age too!’’ Hameed excitedly said. He intently listened to slave’s collar as slave chatted to the boys about how they were to position themselves when doing their stage activities; ‘’and, they are all to be together at 8;00 PM on the back patio, arm in arm — that’s when we strike!’’  

Three other Muslims sitting with AK 47s in his short bus smiled and played with their guns; as a fourth recited Koran verses oblivious of Hameed’s excitement. Hameed told him to shut up. He knew such a rebuke was risky given the mental state of a fanatic; but priorities needed to be implemented, as time was short. He began talking to the others in a huddle as in a football game, while the offended devote continued to mutter his numerous prayers more quietly.  

He’d parked off road, along the WLMA stretch into what were called logging entrances.  

Google maps was very useful to almost all who came to visit this ordinarily impossible to find party destination — and trails or small roads for nefarious intentions as Hameed.

Master Charles had also considered that possibility but hadn’t thought of a microphone, let alone on a collar, on his own slave, to pre-empt his plans with Shelly. He didn’t think Hameed was that proactive.

He sat with her in his office space; off the kitchen with another woman, and a burly man from  the GBI, big as himself, discussing the rescue operation and where the gunman would likely be.  

They were planning to hit the ware-house Hameed had shown Master Charles, the next day with a swat team with the GBI’s help. Federal authorities had been left out of the operation owing to fears of leaks and traitors.

Shelly had been working with Master Charles for two years. She had come from the GBI to work undercover in Athens from a corruption task force. Charles who’d volunteered his military experience as a navy seal to help in busting the sex traffickers had been introduced given his knowledge of activities he’d learned of in his area from [—-Pud’s Master who bought their opium — the undercover means for this operation worked well with his chosen gay life style, that had historically been scorned by law enforcement; but he was friends with this law man from their squad in Afghanistan, who was well acquainted with Shelly. 

Little did they know Hameed would strike the first blow.