Jason... his name was Jason. He tried to remember that as he moved his tongue from the first pair of blue jeans onto the first pair of black jeans. He was out of saliva, but still he continued. His master had ordered it. No, he was not his master, he was his enemy, his abuser... But I must do this, he thought. I must stick it out. He has all the cards. He has me by the balls, literally. I must try and keep it together... I can't let him break me... Only ten months to go... only ten more months... He licked away at the inside of the crotch of the black jeans, smelling his master's scent, struggling to prevent himself throwing up. How had it all come to this?
It had seemed so simple - he had just lost his job at the supermarket. Some foreign company had, out of the blue, bought the place and shut it down. Nobody knew why, but everyone was out on their ear, and this was particularly difficult for Jason, as he had planned to go back to college this year to complete his studies. The income from his supervisor job was just going to be enough to meet his requirements... oh well, maybe next year. He still had one more year to return to complete his course, before the whole thing became null and void. Somehow, he would find the cash. He would just have to wait another year to re-enrol.
And then, on the last day before closing, Anthony, one of the management guys, had called him into the office. He closed the door, and asked Jason to sit down. Anthony seemed unusually uncomfortable that day.
'I know you were hoping to go back to college this year' Anthony began, 'And I know how difficult this must all be for you.'
Anthony stopped, to take a swig of his tea. Jason knew something was up, just from the uncomfortable way that Anthony moved the pens around on his desk as he drank. He waited patiently for him to continue.
'I know you like to keep fit' Anthony continued.
It was an understatement. Everyone at the supermarket marvelled at Jason's fit body - he had been kick-boxing since his early teens, and was also a keen tri-athlete, possibly now almost at an Olympic standard. At age 26 and 6ft tall, Jason really was at the peak of physical fitness, and his pretty face and perfect proportions made him the subject of many a wet dream.
Anthony looked Jason in the eye. 'There's this guy I know' said Anthony. 'He's a photographer. He's always looking for models. He pays good money for his photo shoots, and they're all anonymous. You can wear a mask. Nothing weird or anything.'
'What sort of photos' Jason asked.
Anthony swallowed, nervously. 'Nudes'
Jason smiled, and shook his head. He had received various proposals for similar things during his life, and had turned them all down.
'Not interested, thanks' He said.
Anthony smiled, uneasily. 'Sure, sure, I understand. Only, he pays good money, I hear. Maybe enough to pay your college fees. I feel bad saying it, but, you know...'
Jason understood. He liked Anthony, he had been a good friend and ally to Jason at the shop and he was only trying to help him out.
'I understand', Jason said. 'The answer's no, but thanks anyway'
Anthony pulled a card from his pocket, and held it out to Jason
'Take this' Anthony said, 'In case you change your mind'
Jason was about to repeat his negative answer, but Anthony was insistent, almost pleading. Jason found it slightly un-nerving. He took the card.
'I'll take the card, but I'm not going to ring him' He said
Two weeks later, and after a string of job applications led nowhere, Jason picked up the card again. It was not now just a question of paying the college fees, now if he didn't get work soon he would have to start eating into his savings, and pushing his goal of returning to studies that little bit further away.
'Bob Firmin, Photography' said the card. Jason had visions of a filthy basement studio, piled high with porn mags and old film equipment, and a chain smoking balding man sitting in the middle of all the chaos, telling Jason to take his shirt off in between coughs.
He toyed with the card for an hour before deciding to ring the number on it. His expectations of speaking to some gravel voiced pervert were dispelled by the cheerful voice of a woman, possibly a receptionist, who took the call and transferred it through to Mr Firmin's studio.
Bob Firmin sounded professional and polite. He answered all of Jason's enquiries efficiently, advising him that Jason was in total control, that he could pull out at any time, that it was all above board- it was for the covers for soft-core women's erotic fiction and nothing would be published or printed without Jason's approval. Yes, he could remain anonymous. Yes, there would be nudity but nothing too strong, just artistically posed nudes, mostly with some prop or piece of furniture artfully placed to cover his modesty. Bob asked Jason some questions about his age, his body development. And the pay...
Jason's eyebrows went up as he heard how much he could earn for just an afternoon's work. When he had dialled the number, he was convinced that he would turn any offer down flat. Now he was seriously reconsidering. Yes, it went against his principles, but for that sum of money, he could go back to college this year instead of next. He agreed to go to the studio to meet with Bob.
The meeting went smoothly. The studio seemed clean, modern and professional. After being shown in by the pretty receptionist, Bob introduced himself, offered Jason a drink, and then went through what was expected. None of it seemed too difficult. Jason felt a bit uncomfortable when Bob asked him to take his clothes off so that Bob could check out his body shape, but Bob was polite and apologetic about it all, and the examination was brief, with Bob just whistling and saying 'you got the job if you want it,' as soon as he saw Jason's firmly muscled chest. Bob offered Jason a down payment, and set an appointment for a week's time.
Jason considered cancelling several times during the week, but the thought of the money always swung the argument. He didn't sleep much the night before, but arrived fresh and early the next morning, ready to do the shoot.
Everything went very smoothly, smoother than he might have imagined. After signing a contract, they went into the studio and began. Jason was a bit wooden at first, but soon got into it. There was a big full length mirror across the wall of the studio, and Bob encouraged him to lose his shyness by ignoring the camera and just looking at himself in the mirror. The first hour or so was just shirtless, then they progressed onto shots with him just in briefs, and finally they moved onto the fully nude stuff. Jason was worried he might get a hard-on, But his organ stayed fully professional, right up to the end. He enjoyed looking at himself in the mirror, he was more than a little vain about the body he had worked so hard to construct, and he enjoyed watching the reflection of his muscles as they tensed and posed.
Jason did not notice at first, but he was feeling more and more sexy as the shoot went on, enjoying the attention that was being lavished on his body. His posing became more sexual as the shoot progressed, he posed and pouted towards the mirror, putting on his best smouldering expression even though he knew his face was not going to appear in most of the shots. Occasionally he turned and stared into camera, but Bob was happy for the boy to just keep posing towards the mirror and forgetting that the camera was there. His skin was shining from the thin layer of sweat which now covered it. He felt hot, but not due to the temperature in the room. He felt like he did after a night on the dance floor - slightly giddy, but ready for more. He felt like he was looking for action. He also, strangely, felt a bit drunk.
'Right, we've got all we need for that shoot,' Bob said. 'Now, I wonder if you'd fancy earning a bit more money'
'What were you thinking of?' Jason answered.
'Well...'said Bob. 'Do you fancy doing some shots that are a bit sexier?'
'Yes' said Jason before he even thought about it. Why did I say that? His mind thought.
'How about getting a hard-on' Bob suggested, 'and then maybe you could wank yourself off?'
Jason felt very strange. Maybe he was coming down with something? All he knew was, he was feeling light headed, but he was also feeling sexy, and the idea of jerking himself off seemed very appealing all of a sudden. He had got used to being nude in front of this stranger, so maybe going a little further would do no harm...
He turned, and watched his reflection as his had reached down and grabbed his cock.
The next hour or so was all a bit hazy. As he walked home, weaving around the pavement like a drunk, his left hand firmly grabbing his envelope full of money, a conflicting set of emotions crowded Jason's head. He had just had an erotic experience, no doubt about that, and he had enjoyed it on a base, animal level, but he felt angry with himself for going further than his self-imposed limit. Although the photographer had never touched him during the entire session, Jason felt vaguely violated, as if some essential part of him had been taken away during the session. He felt ashamed as he remembered all his immodest posturing and dancing in front of the camera, and the moments leading up to his ejaculation, where his body was bucking and twisting in front of the emotionless, unblinking eye of the camera. He remembered the sight of his cum dripping down the mirror glass after he had forcefully ejaculated. He remembered also the tent forming in the photographer's trousers, and realising that the man was getting aroused by the show that Jason was putting on for him. Jason had no interest in arousing another man, and the whole experience began to eat away at him. Had it really been worth it? For the money, definitely, he told himself. Unfortunately, he knew he was lying to himself.
48 hours later, and Jason had spent a very uncomfortable few days. He had been analysing the whole event in his head, over and over again. He had become convinced now that the photographer had put something in his drink, something that made him feel sexier, something which broke down his boundaries and made him do things he would never have done if he had been sober. Damn him! Jason decided he would confront the man. He would return the money. He would take the photos back, apologise, maybe have to pay something towards the costs, and then draw a line under this whole unpleasant experience. Yes, that was a good plan.
Unfortunately, that plan began to dissolve as soon as he called Bob's mobile number. No reply, disconnected. He tried again, several times, nothing. Jason decided to confront him at the studio. The same receptionist was there, but no Bob. The studios are rented by the hour, she explained. The photographer. Mr Hardin, paid in cash for one day's hire, No, he had never been there before or since. Yes, she had a contact number for Bob Hardin - it's a mobile number... Jason looked down at the same number he had already been trying, and a cold sweat formed on his brow. A fear was forming that he had been tricked... He insisted on looking in the studio, not knowing what he hoped to find, but, with the exception of the room having no camera equipment in it, the room was exactly as he remembered it. Well, almost exactly. The large mirror was not there anymore, in its place, a doorway going through to a small side room. Jason peered into the room looking for answers, but it was just as it seemed, a small store room. Jason asked the receptionist where the mirror was, but the blank expression on her face told him that she had no idea what he was talking about.
Anthony, the guy who had referred him to the photographer in the first place, had moved away when the store closed but some former colleagues stayed in touch and Jason managed to get a phone number. Initially, Anthony was unwilling to talk, but eventually he told Jason a very strange thing. Some men had come to the store a few days before closure, asking for Anthony. They had offered him a thousand, and told him something they wanted him to do. It sounded like a joke, a trick, but the half of the money they gave him in advance was real enough. All they wanted was for Anthony to give that card to Jason, and tell him about the photographer, try and persuade him to go. He had done as they wished, and, even though Anthony told them afterwards that he was not convinced he had persuaded Jason to go, they still paid him the rest of the money. Anthony had no further information so Jason hung up. He heard half of the words 'I'm sorry' as the phone line disconnected.
A week passed, uneventfully, before the phone rang.
'Hello, Jason' It was Bob's voice, but all the politeness and openness of their previous conversation had gone. The Bob on the phone was all business.
'Where have you been?' Said Jason. 'I've been trying to...'
'Be quiet' Bob interrupted. 'I've been looking at our little photo session. Very sexy stuff. Very hardcore. I got a great shot of you cumming, your face all creased up, a jet of spunk shooting through the air...'
Jason did not know what to say. Weakly, he replied 'You said I would be anonymous in the pictures'
'Well, I guess I lied' Bob smirked. 'I also have a lovely video of you, sprawling all over the floor, jerking off for the camera. I might stick it on the web, for everyone to enjoy'
Video? What video? Jason could not remember a video camera but... wait, there had been that strange mirror. The one that was there one minute and gone the next. He had been dancing in front of it, posing directly towards it. He had cum onto it. Bob had kept telling him 'don't look at the camera. Look at yourself in the mirror' the sick feeling in Jason's stomach returned.
'You know, a video like this, it won't go down very well at that fancy college you're attending, will they? I understand its very strict on this sort of thing...'
Jason gulped. He knew the man was right - the college was attached to a theological school, and although Jason would not be studying a religious subject, the place had very strict moral codes, which he had struggled to follow in order to complete his education. If a video like that came into their possession, Jason would definitely be kicked out, and after being kicked out from somewhere that prestigious, no other establishment would be desperate to sign him up... His education would be over, for good...
Jason felt anger rising in him, but he kept it under control.
'What do you want from me?' Jason asked. 'There's no point in blackmailing me. I have only a little money, and nothing else of value'
'Oh I wouldn't say that' Said the man. 'In fact, you have some very valuable assets. I just showed that video to a man who appreciates fine assets, and he would very much like to evaluate those assets some more. I want you to write something down'
Jason scrawled on a scrap of paper as Bob gave him a website address, and a user name and password.
'Take a look at this site' Bob suggested. 'Use that password to get into the members area. Click on the tab which says models, and have a look there. You'll find something interesting there. I will call back in an hour when you've taken a look'
'But what am I looking for...' Jason began, but the line had gone dead. It was only after the call that Jason began to wonder -how had he known about the college? Jason had never mentioned it...
Jason felt his guts churning as the bold, physical letters of the website spread across his computer screen. Images of men involved in all kinds of explicit sexual acts. Warnings about not entering unless you were above a legal age. Jason typed in the username and password, and entered the member's area. He avoided staring too long at the uncensored images which presented themselves, and clicked on 'models'. A list of names presented itself, and Jason knew immediately which one to click.
Next to a flashing beacon marked 'New!!!' was a name.
Not wanting to see what came next, but knowing he had to, he clicked it. A dozen images flashed up on the screen, and he knew immediately they were him. All the pictures were nude, many showed his cock fully erect, but he was relieved to see that his face was obscured on all of them. However the note at the bottom of the page offered no relief.
'New picture every day for the next thirty days' it screamed. 'Our new sexy muscle boy model Jason will show you everything, and will be coming just for you'.
Another box, with the quick time logo was visible in the corner of the screen. Jason clicked it, and, after a minute's delay, a video came up. First the title: 'Jason wanking - trailer'. Then the video. It was only thirty seconds long, but it was clearly the beginning of a shot of Jason jerking himself off. The face was pixilated to make it unrecognisable, but from the way he was standing he appeared to be staring directly into the video camera, as if fully aware of its presence. A one way mirror, Jason thought. Someone was filming me from behind a one way mirror. A message flashed up on the screen. 'Full Video (without pixilation) to follow soon'
So that's it, Jason thought. I'm gonna be splashed all over some porn website, for all to see. I've been well and truly stitched up. My education is over. My life is over. Even if I somehow get to do my chosen career, this will always be hanging over me. This guy, whoever he is, seems determined to ruin my life for some reason, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
Bob explained the situation clearly and simply when he rang back. Yes, a new picture was going to be added to the site every day, Bob had plenty of faceless pictures of Jason to choose from, but eventually he would run out of the faceless ones and have to go on to the full body ones, the ones where Jason's face is fully visible and his right hand is wrapped around his cock. After thirty days, the video would go live too. And then, maybe a few anonymous emails would begin to fly about, advising people to click such-and-such link, for some interesting information...
Jason said nothing. What could he say? He knew Bob was building up to something, and eventually, Bob came to the point.
'There's this millionaire, just in town for a few days. Well, he saw your video, and he wants you to put on a little show for him' Bob explained.
'He wants to... to fuck me...' Jason asked, angrily.
'No. He wants you to dance for him, just like you did in front of the camera. He wants you to dance, and jerk yourself off. That's it. He says he won't even touch you. Don't ask me why, that's just his kink. Obviously he will pay for this, and obviously I will be keeping 80 percent of the money. That's how its gonna be. And, in exchange, I'll slow down the pictures. Maybe stop them altogether, depending on how happy he is'.
'I won't do it' Jason stated.
'Please yourself, but he's only in town for five days.' Bob explained, gleefully. 'Every day you keep him waiting, another picture goes up. If he leaves without being satisfied, he will be unhappy and I'll be out of pocket, so I will sell the whole set of pictures and the video to the most widely viewed porn site I can find, make sure it goes up under your whole name not just your first name, and make sure everyone from your college professor to your great aunt knows about it. Nothing you can do, I've got a contract with your name on it. Your choice'
Jason thought long and hard. 'How do I know if you'll keep your word?'
'You don't. But you don't appear to have much choice. Check your caller ID for my new phone number, and call me back when you've made your decision'
Four days had passed, and Jason was standing in the lobby of the fancy city centre hotel. He didn't want to be there, he had argued with himself for days about what he should do. He had many times convinced himself that he should not attend. But here he was, asking for Mister Gene Staynes as he had been told. The receptionist eyed him up suspiciously, before directing him to the executive suite, seventh floor.
As Jason rode the lift, he was convinced that everyone was looking at him. He felt that everyone was thinking the words that kept going through his mind.... male escort, prostitute, whore... his feet felt like lead as he walked along the plush carpet and stopped outside the executive suite. He waited a good minute before he knocked, tentatively at the door.
The first surprise was that there was two men in the room. The older man who opened the door talked first, immediately Jason entered the room. The second man was sitting in an armchair, in the dark centre of the room. All that could be seen of him was a silhouette, and a puff of blue cigar smoke.
'I am Mr Staynes's legal adviser.' Said the older man. 'Mr Staynes will not talk during the exhibition. This is most important - if at any point Mr Staynes tells you to stop, you will immediately stop what you are doing until he tells you to begin again'
' You will enter the room, stand on the mark on the carpet and begin, without attempting to say a word to Mr Staynes. I will be waiting in the room next door. You will dance and strip, slowly, for Mr Staynes, shirt first, then trousers, this will take up ten minutes minimum. Next, you will remove your briefs and will kneel on the floor naked before Mr Staynes. You will avoid direct eye contact. You will make your cock fully erect, and only then will you commence masturbating yourself. You will masturbate for no less than 30 minutes before you ejaculate. There is a clock on the wall which you may use to ensure you stay within these limits. Any deviation and you will not be paid. When you are ready to ejaculate, you will lie on your back in front of Mr Staynes, and you will cum onto your own stomach. After you have finished, you will remain in this position for at least twenty minutes, hands behind your head, during which time Mr Staynes may wish to ask you questions, which you will answer truthfully and honestly. You will refer to Mr Staynes at all times as 'Master'. You will refer to me as 'Sir'. Is this clear?'
Jason swallowed his pride. Only an hour or so, he thought, and I'll be out of here.
'Is this clear?' repeated the older man.
'Yes sir' said Jason.
'You may begin' the older man said, and opened the door, closing it behind him. Jason was now alone with the mysterious Mr Staynes. He took a breath, and walked into the centre of the room.
The suite was luxurious and large, but in semi-darkness due to the curtains being drawn. However a couple of desk lamps had been rigged up, so the spot where Jason would be standing was brightly illuminated. He could be clearly seen, but his observer could not. All he could tell about the man was that he was younger than he expected, maybe mid or early teens, and was dressed in a white shirt and tightly fitting, crisp and clean blue jeans. He also had a cigar in one hand, a wine glass in the other, and what appeared to be a balaclava over his head.
Jason hit his starting point and began his dance. At first, he was stilted, nervous, but he somehow continued, and after a little while he began to loosen up. Mr Staynes just sat there, motionless, silent, and that was very unnerving, but Jason continued. He stripped off his shirt, slowly, to reveal his perfect torso. He went through a series of muscleman poses before unzipping his fly, and gradually, bit by bit, slipping his trousers down over his hips, showing his fine ass and the bulge in the front of his jockeys. The trousers were soon on the floor. Jason went through a series of poses, fingers rubbing his crotch, slipping inside the material.
A funny noise came from Mr Staynes. Jason only half heard it, and it put him off his stride for a second. It was like a sort of snorting noise...
Jason continued, pulling the jockeys down an inch over the curve of his hips, revealing the top of his long, pert butt crack, and the first few wispy pubes. He was rubbing at his cock through the material, and mercifully the organ was responding. He had worried that he might not be able to get it up, but it seemed like he may be ok...
And then Staynes made another noise, but this time, there was no denying what it was. A giggle. A brief, high pitched giggle. Jason risked a quick look at Staynes, but he was still sitting there, immobile.
Jason slipped the jockeys down to his knees, to his ankles and then to the floor. His cock was responding well now, and he followed instructions, sinking to his knees, pumping the cock to erection and then beginning a long, slow masturbation.
And Mr Staynes began giggling again, more frequently. Jason tried to blank out the noise, and focused on what he was doing. He fixed his view on the clock, and watched the minutes tick by, hideously slowly. He was aware at one point that Staynes had stood up, and was walking around in the darkness, staring at Jason, and occasionally giggling in that strange, high pitched voice. Jason had a strange feeling that he had heard that giggle somewhere before, but he couldn't place it. He had better not come over here and try and touch me, Jason thought, or I'll knock his head off...
At the twenty minute mark, Jason was sweating. He had never practiced cum control before, and to say it was difficult was an understatement. He desperately wanted to finish himself off, but the clock just kept on ticking. This was a nightmare.
Twenty five minutes, and it was close to unbearable, but Jason was an athlete, he was used to pushing his body beyond normal tolerances. He gritted his teeth. Hold on, he said to himself. Hold on...
Twenty nine minutes... only sixty seconds to go. Maybe they wouldn't notice if he was a few seconds early... foolish thought. Of course they would. All his muscles ached. He knew he was about to find relief. He adjusted his body position, and lay back on the floor, to ride out the last twenty seconds
'Stop' said Mr Staynes. A young man's voice, arrogant, purposeful. Jason's hand froze in surprise at the sound. Something so familiar about that voice... But he couldn't stop, not now...
'I order you to stop' said the voice. Jason really, really didn't want to, but he somehow forced himself to let go of his rampaging cock. This was agony! But he wouldn't let this whole thing be in vain. He would fulfil the pervert's orders to the full, and then go home, and maybe it would all be over...
He waited, on a knife-edge, for Mr Staynes to allow him to continue. Oh please, please hurry up, he thought. I can't hold this in forever... Twenty seconds passed, feeling like 20 minutes.
The Mr Staynes spoke, in that oh so familiar voice of his.
'Do you like my Jeans?' He asked
Jason was taken aback by the question. He looked up into Mr Staynes's balaclava-covered face.
'Do you like my jeans? Nice and clean. Fresh and new. Do you like them?' Mr Staynes repeated
'Yes, master' Jason answered. Staynes giggled loudly at the response. Jason's body twitched and tensed of its own accord - it wanted its master to stop talking and get back to the important job of wanking it off.
'I was hoping you'd like them. I got them especially for you, Jason'
Jason was surprised by the mention of his name.
'You don't remember me, do you, Jason?' Staynes said.
Jason stared into Staynes' balaclava covered face. Who the hell was he?
'Please. Please, Master. Let me come...'
Staynes giggled again.
'Certainly Jason, you may continue to humiliate yourself before me. Carry on, defile yourself'
Jason did not need a second invite. He grabbed his cock and jerked it as furiously as he could. He was aware of Staynes kneeling down beside him, only a few inches away, but nothing was going to stop him now. He came.
With one, two, three powerful spurts, Jason decorated is rippled, beautiful stomach and torso with the pearly white fluid. In his ecstasy he was almost able to drown out the noise of Staynes, not giggling but now fully laughing, a sour, evil laugh. Jason's heartbeat and breathing slowly began to return to normal. He remembered the instruction to put his hands behind his head, and he did as ordered. Only twenty minutes more, hopefully, and this will all be over...
Staynes began to talk. 'Let me tell you a little about myself, so that we can get better acquainted. My family is very rich, we have interests in many different countries around the world. And yet my Uncle, who took charge of my interests after the death of my parents, was very strict, from the old school. He knew he could not stop me inheriting my fortune at 18 years old, but he determined that I should learn something about the value of money before that date. So, after my 17th birthday, he withdrew all my allowances. He moved me to a new city, in a different country, and told me I had to survive there, without benefit of my wealth, for one whole year. He got me a job, a lousy, badly paid menial job, and a one room apartment, and told me that I would have no support from him or the family. He told me if I lost my job, or ran up excessive bills, he would leave me to starve, if necessary'
Jason could not see where this was going. What did this have to do with him?
Staynes continued. 'Well, at first it was hard, but I managed. The job was boring, but bearable. And then, one day, I was told I would have a new supervisor. And that was when it all changed. This guy, this fucking guy, he made life hell for me. Always bugging me to be on time, always chasing me up about the pettiest thing. Bullying, insulting, a mini bureaucrat, always on my case. I felt like quitting several times, but I could not. All I could do was plot, and wait for the day it would all be over. That place became hell for me, and I decided, when I hit my 18th Birthday, that I would get revenge for having to suffer that. My Uncle wanted to teach me about money? Well I learnt a great lesson, that it's better to have money than not have it, and it's even better to have lots and lots of it...It took a while, but I was able to buy the shitty supermarket and close it down, but that's not enough. I want revenge on that supervisor, that one who put me through all that shit. I want a long, slow revenge. Do you remember me now?'
Staynes pulled off the balaclava, and looked directly into Jason's eyes. The face was immediately familiar to Jason, but he couldn't put a name to it.
'I know you... you're... you're...'
'Victor. Victor Del Mietry. But I'm not surprised you don't remember. You used to call me 'oi, you' or 'come over here' I don't think you ever asked my name. Just another teenage shelf-stacker to be pushed around by the muscle boy supervisor'
Jason sat up. 'I'm sorry, Victor, if I ever upset you. I never meant to, it was my job to...'
'Shut up and lie back down' Screamed Victor, grabbing something that looked like a car key fob from his pocket and waving it at Jason. 'Don't lecture me and don't disobey me. One push of this button, and my two bodyguards will be in here in ten seconds, to give you a beating you will never forget!'
Jason tried to reason with the screaming boy, but he knew it was pointless. Reluctantly, he lay back down.
'Did you like the name?' Victor asked. 'Staynes. Gene Staynes. Does that ring any bells?'
Jason thought, and then shook his head.
Victor smiled, a cruel smile. 'Oh, surely that brings back a memory. Surely you can't have totally forgotten. That day you stopped me in the middle of the shop floor, in front of everyone. I'd spilt some milk over myself while loading one of the chillers. And you yelled out 'what are those stains on your jeans? They look filthy! How do you get stains like that on a pair of jeans?' And when everyone began to laugh at me, you couldn't help yourself, could you? 'Oh, I bet you've been jerking yourself off in the cold store again' you said, so that everyone could have a good laugh at me. Everyone, from that point on, would sneak up behind me and say, 'oi, Vince, stop wanking'. Even the girls. Even the old women on the checkouts. Everyone. And you don't even remember it, do you?'
Jason genuinely didn't remember the incident. He had always considered himself a good supervisor, kind and efficient. Sure, sometimes he pushed hard, but that was what the job required. He certainly didn't think he deserved this kind of a revenge. Jason began to get angry.
'Ok. What do you want? An apology?' Jason yelled.' You've had your fun now, you've humiliated me. Are you satisfied? Well, the game's over. Now I'm going home' Jason stood up and began gathering his clothes together. His embarrassment at being naked was now being taken over by his anger at this betrayal. He slipped on his trousers, all the rest could wait until he was out of here, away from this 18 year old lunatic.
'Oh, I don't think so' said Victor. 'Come over here and look at my nice, clean jeans. Brand new. Come on, lick my jeans. Lick them to see how clean they are. '
'You're crazy' Jason shouted, and opened the room door, to be faced by two enormous men in black suits. Jason was strong, but he was no match for these two brutes, who dragged him back into the room, closing the door behind them. They pushed Jason to his knees in front of Victor.
Victor giggled that crazy, insane giggle one more time.
'Plan A. I spent the most miserable year of my life in that shitty shop, and it's mostly due to you, so I have an offer for you. I have the power, and the influence, to make the rest of your life a living hell. Forget college, forget any kind of job or work. I will keep men on you twenty four hours a day for the rest of your life. Wherever you go, I will pay them to screw your life up. Meet a girl? They will drive her away. Friends? Family? I will make them all hate you. I will pay people to move in next door to you to keep you awake all night, I will have your home burgled and have you beaten up on the street on a regular basis, and the cops will turn a blind eye. I have so much money and I will never, ever tire of fucking up your life. Even as you are lying, drunk and homeless in the gutter I will have people watching you. That is the life you can expect'.
'Or, there is an alternative. Plan B. I lost a year, so you will lose a year. You will volunteer to become my property for one year, during which time you will obey me and do whatever I wish. And when I say property, I mean exactly that. I can buy anything in the world, and I want to buy you for my collection. No limits to what you may experience, except that you will not suffer any permanent physical injury. You will never, ever refuse one of my requests. If you can stick it out for a year, I will destroy the photos and the video and let you go on your way. I will even give you a bursary for you to complete your college course. If not, we go back to plan A. My solicitor who is next door will give you a contract to sign. Obviously there is no slavery law in this country, but that is what I am expecting of you. You will voluntarily commit to total slavery to me for 365 days. You have ten minutes to decide.'
Jason knelt on the floor, his mind spinning. This couldn't be happening...
Two months later...
When Victor led his guests down to the enormous out-building where he kept his car collection, they knew he was about to show them his latest toy. He already had a dozen luxury cars - Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, Ferraris, to go with his racehorses, his luxury yacht and private plane, and they wondered what exactly he had spent his money on this time. They knew he liked showing off, in fact that was why they hung around with him - he wasn't stingy with his money. He always had the best of everything. Whatever he wanted to show off today would undoubtedly be a limited edition, amongst the best in the world. But even with what they had been shown before, they could have had no idea about what they were to see today.
The first sign that something was unusual had happened ten minutes ago. Charles, Cynthia and Roger had been sitting on the terrace, drinking champagne with Victor, as was usual during their fortnightly meetings. They were all extremely rich, although none as rich as Victor, who, despite being just coming up to 19, had more money than the other three put together. They had finished a sumptuous lunch only a short whole earlier and were enjoying the afternoon sun and the view across Victor's extensive country estate.
'Do you want to come and see my new acquisition?' Victor asked. It wasn't really a question, everyone always did what Victor said. Everyone agreed rapidly, and prepared to stand up. It was a ritual they had been through many times before, to go and admire Victor's latest luxury car, or whatever else he had bought, and congratulate him on how clever he was. They knew he had a habit of favouring his most grovelling guests with gifts, and he was not someone you wanted to be on the wrong side of. The three of them almost competed against each other to be the first to stand, but Victor waved them back into their seats.
'There is something I have to do first' he said, and went inside the house. The three others sat back down, and waited. There was no conversation between them, in reality they actually hated each other, but put on a show of old-school camaraderie for Victor's benefit. Tel minutes later, Victor was back. When he returned to his colleagues today, they noted the fashionable, bright clothing he always wore had been replaced by a simple white shirt, the sort which would have a name tag on it and be worn by a shop assistant, and a pair of perfectly fitting and brand new looking blue jeans. None of the three had ever seen Victor dressed in anything like this cheap, casual wear before, and they wondered what was in store as they followed him across the gardens to the grand looking garage out-building.
The three guests gaped in shock and surprise at the sight before them. They had walked past the lines of classic cars stored in the outbuilding to a single vacant parking bay, which turned out to not be as vacant as they thought. Cynthia was the first to talk.
'What's... What's his name?' She asked, nervously.
'IT doesn't have a name' Victor Explained. 'It is a possession. My cars do not have names, so why should it?'
There were no more questions. The three of them looked at the naked, muscle covered 26 year old boy, kneeling before them on the concrete, staring at the floor, and the heavy collar and chain which secured him to the wall but gave him some freedom to move within the space. His hands were bound behind his back. They probably also noticed the fading bruises and marks of a multitude of strikes by whips and canes on his bare flesh. Apart from the simple mattress and dog bowl full of food on the floor, the only other objects in the space were the pairs of jeans. Dozens of them, Black Jeans, Blue Jeans, all hanging from hooks all around the walls.
'I hope my jeans have all been cleaned' Victor said. The boy whose name was once Jason nodded a simple, nervous nod, without looking up.
'This pair I am wearing is not clean. Attend to it' He ordered. The chained boy moved over to his master and, without a pause, began to lick the front of Victor's jeans, slurping and licking the rough material around the crotch until it was damp with saliva. Victor's three friends looked on in disbelief and some excitement at the scene.
After a pause, Roger asked the obvious question.
'Is that the only thing he cleans with his tongue?'
Victor smiled, and decided to give his guests a gift.
'Why don't we find out?' he said.