The Greek Pimp

The man put his arm around Rick's shoulder as they left the elevator on the fifteenth floor of the Mandalay Bay hotel casino in Las Vegas. When they'd met in the lobby of the hotel, the man hadn't even maintained eye contact with him other than to nod his head toward the bank of elevators, signaling that Rick was to get on an elevator with him.

The john was maybe forty, a bit stocky, but well muscled. The suit didn't fit him like it would a businessman used to wearing them. Rick had guessed him to be someone who worked with heavy machinery. He'd made sure the guy's money was good before leaving the theater. The john was square-jawed and cauliflowered eared and bald on top. But Rick liked the evidence of muscle and the edge of roughness to him-and the bit of nervousness he displayed. He could be controlled, he might be enjoyed, and he'd already shown he had the cash to pay.

They moved down the hall, the man gripping the slim blond close into his side like maybe Rick would bolt and run back to the elevators before they got to the guy's room, which was far down the hallway.

A beefy black guy, obviously a thuggish bodyguard, was standing at a door they had to pass. Room 1562, Rick saw marked over the doorway. The bodyguard's eyes followed them all the way down the hallway. A slight sneer in his lips told Rick that he knew exactly what was happening here. The john's room was four doors farther down, 1570. The grip was tightening, and what had appeared to be nervousness was melting away. Rick had a brief moment of panic as he often did when he went into unknown territory like this. Maybe the guy wasn't as much a wide-eyed out-of-towner as Rick had gauged him to be.

There had been fewer temporary flashes of fear, though, since he'd taken up with Jose. Rick worked a male strip club a couple of blocks off the main strip in Vegas-sort of a working man's Chippendale cabaret. He'd been working there ever since he'd stopped in Las Vegas en route to his unattained dream of Hollywood. He'd been a real hit back in his little Tennessee town. Star on the football field despite his small stature and slimness. Just give him the ball and watch him weave between those lumbering tackles. This was a result of his dexterity on the field and his "moves." They were dance moves. His mother had had a different kind of stage dream for him than he had and had sent him to several years of dance. That helped him on the football field and on the high school drama stage. The training helped him now, where he danced and stripped down from a tuxedo with three other guys three times nightly at Boyfriends.

The big money, of course, was in who might be waiting for him at the stage door after the last performance of the evening.

The football coach and drama coach had fought over him for his last two years of high school. Then one night not long before graduation they'd shared him in a backstage dressing room. The coach had had the biggest dick and a number of friends in town to share him with and by the end of June Rick was opening his legs for any man who had $20 to spare.

His mother asked him what he planned to do in life and suggested New York. While bending him over a chair arm, Rick's former drama coach thought Los Angeles would be a better bet and said he had some contacts who would help him get across country. One of the contacts was the manager of Boyfriends, and Rick was still here after two years.

Where Jose came in was that he was a cop working vice in Las Vegas. He was in on a sting of a politician's private party at the Bellagio. Rick had been caught naked on a bed with the politician's dick inside him. Jose liked what he saw and got Rick out of the hotel suite when the other cops weren't looking.

"I can protect you," he said, as they clumped down stairs at the hotel.

"How so?" Rick had asked, still pulling a T-shirt down over his chest.

"Stick with me and I'll let you know where and when the raids are. I can keep you from being rolled up in these stings."

"Yeah, in exchange for what?" Rick asked, seeing a big piece of his hard-earned income flying out the window. He didn't have a doubt he had to accommodate this guy somehow, or he'd be on his tail from now on.

Jose had shown him by grabbing him from behind, slamming his back against the wall at a half landing of the stairs, stripping his trousers off as he captured Rick's mouth in a deep kiss, and lifting the smaller man by the thighs and setting his channel down on Jose's up-curved hard cock.

Rick didn't even think of resisting. The cop held all of the cards.

Rick gasped as the cock went in and in and in. He hooked his legs on Jose's hips, buried his face in the hollow of Jose's chest, threw his arms around Jose's neck, and held on for dear life as the Hispanic hunk fucked him hard and deep.

Two days later Rick had moved in with the vice detective. The cop still held all of the cards, but Rick was getting the hang of how to manipulate him to his own advantage. Besides, he fucked really, really well.

It was evident coming into hotel room that the guy-Rick thought of him as the Tractor-wanted to act all macho. He got behind Rick with an arm around the younger man-the man was more chunky than tall, but he still was taller than Rick was-and started pawing at Rick's clothes, undoing his belt buckle, unzipping him, unbuttoning his shirt, pushing his trousers down his legs.

"Get on all fours," he growled in Rick's ear and then when Rick had done so on the carpet just inside the door to the corridor, the man quickly mounted him and started a vigorous doggy fuck.

Rick put up with this for a few minutes but then said, "Let's do this right. Let me do you Vegas style."

Grunting, the man pulled out of him, and Rick lithely rose off the ground and guided the man over to the bed, sat him down, and knelt between his spread thighs. The man leaned his torso back onto the surface of the bed, the heels of his hands pressed into the coverlet, and moaned as Rick gave an average-sized cock a deep-throat blow job.

By the time Rick thought they were finished, with the Tractor on his back on the bed, purring, while Rick, in full control now and digging the heels of his hands into the man's pecs, rode his cock, while making all of the appropriate comments of what a man the Tractor was. The man's cock was nothing to write home about, but Rick enjoyed watching how his beefy muscles clinched and rippled as Rick rose and fell on the cock and the man thrust his hips up. At climax, Rick leaned down and bit a taut nipple and the Tractor howled and ejaculated great wads of cum into the bulb of the condom.

With a growl of lust, the man pushed Rick off him and over onto his back, covered Rick's body with his, and thrust hard inside him with his cock again and again and again. To give the man that lingering feeling of power, Rick cried out, "Yes, yes. Fuckin' yes! You're killin' me!" But the Tractor was going flaccid and wound up a dead weight on top of Rick, panting and wheezing, so Rick didn't lose control. He took the man's head between his hands and brought their lips together. After the kiss, he whispered, "You're the best."

The Tractor would remember the blow job and the fuck and feel that he'd gotten his money's worth-and that he sure would like to do it again. But most of all, he'd remember that a young hunk who'd turned everyone on when he danced and stripped on stage had told him that he fucked the best.

"Come see me at Boyfriends again," Rick said as he was pulling his trousers back on and the man was on his back, on the bed, watching him. He didn't get any further than that into the possibility of a replay. All the guys thought they were so good in bed that he'd just give them another one for free. And that wasn't going to happen.

Rick left the room alone some forty minutes after going in. He was tucking his shirt into his trousers as he walked and trying to avoid eye contact with the bodyguard still standing outside the door four rooms down from where the Tractor was lying on his back and moaning softly to himself in satisfaction.

The bodyguard waited until the elevator door closed and then opened the door to 1562 and mumbled something to the Arabic bodyguard who had been on station inside the door. The Arabic bodyguard came out of the room and took up the station the black bodyguard was vacating as he moved toward the elevators.

* * * *

As Rick was walking down the corridor at the Mandalay Bay with the Tractor and past the beefy black bodyguard standing by the door to 1562, inside 1562, the Greek pimp, Cosmo Eracules, was getting a full body massage from a young Frenchmen named Emile.

An aerialist artist with the Cirque du Soleil Michael Jackson extravaganza at the nearby MGM Grand, Emile had gone to great lengths to set this encounter up. At the moment, instead of Eracules being in control, as he assumed he'd be, the Greek pimp was putty, almost literally, in the hands of the dark, sultry, and sensuous Frenchman.

The Greek, barrel chested and somewhat thickening at the waist but still a well-muscled bull of a man was lying on the bed, his heaving, hairy torso and his right cheek of his face flat on the surface of the bed and his arms stretched straight out from his sides and clutching the edge of the bed on either side. His hips were elevated, as Emile had coaxed him up on his knees. His legs were spread, and Emile was crouched behind him, one hand holding one of Eracules' hips, the other one snaked through the Greek's thighs and slowly milking the older man's thick and long cock. Emile's tongue was massaging the inner walls of Cosmo's channel a couple of inches.

Cosmo hadn't been fucked in years. He'd been doing all of the fucking for nearly two decades. But now he was whimpering and begging for it-from the beautiful young, perfectly built Frenchman with the long, thin cock.

The Frenchman had established full control earlier when, having given Eracules a sensual massage on his back, buttocks, and thighs, Emile entered his channel with two greased fingers-with only sighs as an answer-and massaged Eracules' prostate to an ejaculation. When Eracules had come for him, Emile pulled the Greek's body to where his head flopped over the foot of the bed, and Emile rose from the bed, came around to the foot, took a firm grip of the Greek's wrists, spread the older man's arm's wide, and presented his cock to Eracules' mouth. Stunned into high lust for the beautiful young French acrobat, Cosmo took the cock in his month and allowed Emile to press it deep into his gullet and stroke.

The Arab bodyguard standing by the door was poised on the balls of his feet, ready to spring at the first sign of the Greek pimp's rejection of such an unusual invasion of his boss' body, but Eracules was fully lost to the charms and skill of Emile.

He didn't even signal to the bodyguard later when Emile, crouched behind Eracules' raised pelvis, stopped stroking Cosmo's cock, took his tongue out of the wide-open hole, mounted the Greek's pelvis, and started the long journey of his cock up towards the intestines of the man.

He began to stroke slowly and deep. No condoms were in use here. Emile was a prodigious producer of cum. Eracules was going to get filled up.

Emile and Cosmo had seen each other the previous night at the MGM Grand. Emile was swinging his patterns above the stage and Cosmo was in the audience. Cosmo was shopping for a young man or two that he could peddle to lonely businessmen at the Bellagio. Eracules liked to winter in Las Vegas. At his age, even the Mediterranean was getting too cold in the winter. That was in temperature; it was too hot for him just now as the police of various nations were beginning to cooperate in honing in on shutting his operation down. Emile was identified as one possibility for his new stable of young men.

Eracules still held to the principle of not suborning men who weren't already prostituting themselves in some way, though. So, at the end of the show, he'd sent the black bodyguard backstage with some money. Recognizing the bodyguard as having been with Cosmo, Emile perched on an oil barrel in the back far reaches of the props room, slipped the money he was given in the waistband of the tights he no longer was wearing, wrapped his legs around the small of the black giant's back, and let the bodyguard fuck him. He also accepted the invitation to visit Eracules here at the Mandalay Bay.

The black bodyguard was able to report that Emile took the money and a big, black cock without a hint of hesitancy-and with a great deal of apparent expertise.

Emile had done so because this wasn't the first time he'd seen Eracules in action. He'd been at Monte Carlo, swinging below the rafters of the casino there in his aerial performances, on more than one occasion when Eracules was recruiting talent. Emile had fallen for Eracules and wanted a piece of him. He also had researched Eracules' operation and thought he knew of a better way to do it in the twenty-first century. Here, in Las Vegas, was his chance.

He showed up to the room at the Mandalay Bay with massage equipment, surprising Eracules into agreeing to a massage. It appeared to Eracules that this is what Emile thought he was being asked to come here to do, and Cosmo was sent initially into confusion. Emile had him on the bed, oiled, and the massage started before the Greek regained his bearings. He decided the sexual subjugation could come later-but he never had an opportunity to gain control. He was lost to Emile early in the massage when Emile was leaning over him, deep-throating his cock, and running oiled fingers up into his ass channel.

By the time Rick was leaving the Tractor's room and the black bodyguard was peeling off to follow him, Emile had reversed the fuck. Eracules was on his back on the bed, groaning and breathing heavily, as Emile perched over him in a side butterfly position, facing up toward the ceiling, and holding his torso over Eracules' hips with his legs and arms supporting his weight, and rising and falling on the Greek's erect cock. The position moved from there to a full butterfly position, with his body in the same alignment as Eracules' but, again, hovering over him and looking up at the ceiling, while Eracules held him at the waist with his hands and raised and lowered his channel on the cock.

"Give it to me. Give me your cum," Emile gasped in a raspy voice.

Cosmo ejaculated, but Emile wasn't satisfied he had it all. He crouched down into the Greek's lap, reached down and grabbed Eracules' ankles, and started pounding his channel up and down on the Greek's cock. With a groan Cosmo came again.

He was lost. He had been some time since he'd recharged this quickly and come this profusely.

* * * *

It was later in the afternoon. The black bodyguard had returned, dragging Rick with him. The bodyguards knew that their boss was collecting men, and the black bodyguard was proud that he'd found one himself. Rick had thought, "What the hell" on a quickie when the bodyguard stopped him in the hotel lobby and propositioned him. The black man banged him so hard in a stall in one of the men's rooms off the casino that Rick put up no resistance to being hauled back upstairs. He must have stumbled out in the corridor, because when the bodyguard entered the room, Rick was slung over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

"Is he conscious?" Eracules asked.

"Yeah, and he's a super lay, boss. And he took money for it."

At Eracules' direction, he and the Arab bodyguard moved to subduing and breaking Rick in further on the bed. Rick was on his back on the bed, his wrists tied and pulled above his head and tied off at the headboard. The Arab's knees were under Rick's buttocks, with Rick's thighs hooked on the Arab's meaty hips, and the Arab was pulling Rick's channel on and off his hard cock with the strength of his hands gripping the young man's waist.

Rick's head was flopped over to the side, a vacant stare on his face. He was softly moaning, which both bodyguards said was really sexy. The black bodyguard was standing beside the bed, changing a spent condom for a new one. This was the second go at Rick by each of the bodyguards. Each time one of the bodyguards came, a wad of cash was thrown down on the bed where Rick could see it. He wasn't asking to be untied and leave. He was coming periodically himself, which signaled that he was still willingly involved.

Eracules and Emile were sitting off to the side, at the other end of the room, where there was a sofa and a couple of chairs with a little table between them. Emile was still naked. Eracules was wearing a hotel robe but was naked under that. A laptop commuter was open on the table between them and Emile was flipping through Web pages and talking to Eracules.

It wasn't only Cosmo that attracted Emile. He had ideas about how to improve the business he knew Eracules was in-and that he'd like a piece of too. He wanted to throw the operations up on the Internet.

"Two Web sites," he was saying. "Completely separate, both passworded. One a come-on for the talent and the other a shopping place for the buyers. You wouldn't have to do all of this traveling, and the business would expand."

"And I could operate it from one place?"

"Yes, we could. Do you have a home base?"

"Limassol. Limassol, Cyprus."

"Where all those hot videos are filmed?"

"Yes, but I'm not into that business."

"But we could be. But why Limassol?"

"I'm Cypriot. That's close to where I was born and raised. It's on the Cypriot coast. My yacht is in a marina there."

Eracules was looking from the computer screen back to Emile and over at the bed and then back at the naked Emile. His robe had pulled open at his lap, and he was in erection. "Perhaps. It sounds interesting. But right now-"

"You want to fuck again," Emile said, with a smile.

"Yes," Cosmo answered. He didn't want to say yes. He'd had this yearning with Devin and had fought it off. But he was even older now, more needy now. The young Frenchman was coming on to him strong-both with sex and with this business proposal. He should step away. He was losing control. But . . .

Emile rose and turned to where Cosmo was sitting. He leaned down and they kissed. While they did so, Emile pulled the robe Cosmo was wearing open and sat in his lap, facing him, lowering his channel on the thick, hard cock. He wrapped his arms around Cosmo's neck and pulled the older man's face into his chest. Cosmo's lips opened over a nipple as Emile started to rise and fall on the cock.

On the bed, the Arab was moving toward the side and pulling at the spent condom on his cock. Smoothing a new condom up his hard cock, the black bodyguard was pushing his knees between Rick's thighs and under his buttocks.

"You were asked to come here because I want to use your talents," Eracules said later as he and Emile were walking toward the door to the corridor. Emile was pulling on his T-shirt, but his trousers and briefs were still folded over his arm.

"To be fucked by other men for money." Emile said.

"Yes. I already know you do it. I didn't ask you to come here before I knew you'd do it. You'd be making money too-and in a safe environment with men of wealth."

"I came here because of you," Emile said. "I came to show you a better way to do business in today's world, but I also came here because I wanted you. I don't want to fuck other men. I want to be your boy."

"It doesn't work that way. The way we-"

He didn't finish the sentence. Emile had pushed him up against the wall next to the door and was on his knees, pulling Eracules' cock into his mouth.

"No, please. You're going to kill me. I'm not a young man any . . . oh, god, oh shit. Yes!"

The cock hard again, Emile was crawling up Eracules' body, raising his feet to rest flat against the wall on either side of the Greek's chest, tilting his pelvis up, pulling Eracules' cock inside him, and then throwing his arms around the Greek's neck. Using the leverage of his feet, he began to vigorously fuck himself on the Greek's cock, as Cosmo was pressed against the wall, somewhat in a crouched position, knees bent.

Cosmo, panting heavily and wheezing, was lost yet again in the charms of the French aerialist.

"Please, don't send me to other men, Daddy," Emile murmured. "Please keep me for yourself."

On the bed, the Arab and black bodyguards now were DPing Rick. The Arab was under him, with Rick lying full length on top of him, and the Arab twining his legs in Ricks and spreading and raising them, as the black bodyguard crouched between Rick's legs and fed his cock in on top of the Arab's.

Rick was groaning and moaning softly, but he was moving his hips to the rhythm of the fuck and his lips were moving on the black bodyguard's, telling signs of mutual arousal. He pulled his face away from the black bodyguard's, arched his head back, and cried out as all five men came almost simultaneously.

* * * *

Rick looked bleakly out of the Mercedes sedan windows from all sides as it sped along the flatland, desert dirt road. Only dust behind them, raised by the car, traveling at considerable speed. Out either side was just desert and sagebrush, backed by sandstone and purple-shadowed mountains, most of them mesas. In front, down a long road yet, a ranch compound. Nearer was a high gate, with a crossbar on it, with a sign. They were close enough that Rick could make out the name: Stallion Ranch.

He had plastic ties around his wrists and ankles and was sitting in the backseat with the black bodyguard. But he wouldn't have tried to escape even if he hadn't been bound. The vehicle was moving too fast for his to tumble out of it without injury, and he couldn't see anywhere he could flee too anyway-except for the ranch compound. And that's where they were headed.

He hadn't agreed to the Greek pimp's proposal enthusiastically. Somehow it hadn't seemed to matter, though.

Cosmo Eracules was sitting in the passenger seat in front and the Arab bodyguard was driving. The black bodyguard had a possessive arm around him from the left side. Huddled away from him, to his right, and absorbed in a small handheld device sat the French gymnast, Emile. He was acting like he wasn't there, although, he took occasional looks at the back of Eracules' head as if to ensure that the older man was still there.

"This him, then?" A burly man in cowboy duds asked from the top of the porch stairs when they'd pulled up in front of what looked like the main house and had gotten out of the car-all except the Arab and Emile, who stayed put. "Looks like a pretty boy. That'll only hold for a couple of days here. Sure he can stand up to the wear and tear? It's pretty rough and tumble out here in the desert. Boys are coming in from rough work days on the range and they expect value for their money."

"He managed my two men here, together, for three hours. He's tougher than he looks." This was from Eracules.

The man looked over the bodyguards and seemed impressed enough.

"Now you remember the deal," Eracules said. "He's doing this willingly. We didn't just pick him out of his mother's arms. He's in the business. It's just a lease. He gets a third of his earnings and in three months, you deliver him back on the street in Las Vegas."

"Right," the man said.

Right, Rick thought. Fat chance of any of that. He winced at the "willingly." He had voiced his agreement but it was at the end of nonstop fucking, which promised to go on until he said yes.

"You take him on in to the place. The corridor on the right, door at the end of the hall, while Mr. Eracules and me do this deal." He was speaking to the black bodyguard, who pushed Rick up the stairs and down the hall, as indicated. The room he was taken to apparently was both office and bedroom. It was larger than the small rooms off the corridor were. Some of the rooms had their doors open and the rooms were pretty much identical. Double beds, a straight chair or two, a small bureau, and a small bathroom off each. More the size of cells really than bedrooms. The doors to a few of the rooms were closed, and from the sounds that could be heard filtering through the doors, they were occupied by men fucking. The room they'd entered from the porch was a large bar room.

The black bodyguard sat with Rick in the office cum bedroom until the burly cowboy, hitting somewhere in his forties and heavily muscled from what was likely hard work, entered. He already was unbuckling his belt as he entered. He waived the black bodyguard away but then had him stand at the door.

"How old are you, Blondie?" The man asked Rick. "Ain't gettin' into no trouble there without askin'. You don't look barely old enough. You gotta say it when there's someone else here to hear it."

"I'm nineteen."

"Good, we'll go with that. Nice fresh lookin' little piece, though. Best get that out of the way first, the man said." he waved the black bodyguard out of the room and dropped his trousers. He wasn't much over average size but already was in full erection.

Rick was fucked hard bent over the bed, still tied with the plastic restraints.

"There, no question you ain't no virgin," the man declared after five minutes of stroking. "None too tight, but sweet enough. You're a real looker. And not fightin' it. Let's see how good you can suck." He turned Rick and sat him on the end of the bed, jerked the condom off his cock, grabbed Rick's head by the ears, and was ready to push his cock between the young man's lips.

"Wait," Rick said. "Untie me and I'll give you a blow job and a fuck you'll never forget."

The man's face lit up in a grin. "Really are a whore, aren't you? Gonna try to fit right in here, are you?"

Rick didn't see much of a choice at the moment. It wasn't as if he didn't let men fuck him. He might as well make it as painless as possible-until he could figure a way to get out of this mess. He sensed that this was a time for self-preservation rather than pride.

Once freed, Rick cupped the man's balls and cock with one hand, while running the other up under the hem of the guy's cowboy shirt, up his hard torso, and to a taut nipple. He sucked on the bulb of the cock briefly and then, with one long swallow, took the cock deep into his throat, applied pressure, and held it there.

The man gave a gasp and a deep sigh as he cupped Rick's head in his hands and held him them. "Oh, chris' almighty, this is gonna be good," he said in a deep, rasping voice. And Rick made sure it was good.

When the cock was hard and throbbing, Rick pulled his mouth off of it, leaned his torso back onto the surface of the bed on his elbows, gave the man a provocative look, stretched a leg up the man's torso, and whispered, "Give it to me, Daddy. Make me cry."

"You want it, you got it," the man growled, grabbing his cock with one hand and Rick's with the other, and stuffing the cock into Rick's hole. Rick arched his back, laughed, and howled, "Hard and deep, Daddy. Hard and deep."

"Whooeee," the man cried out as he began to pump. "You is gonna be worth a fortune. Only the best cocks for you."

That rather was what Rick was hoping for.

They ended with the man on his back on the bed and Rick, straddling his pelvis, faced away from him and gripping the man's ankles, and riding the cock hard. When the man came, Rick reversed on him, pulled the condom off his cock, and swallowed it again. The man moaned, having no thought now that Rick wouldn't perform without force or a beating first.

The ranch manager pronounced Rick fit for service and led him out to a separate bunkhouse where, over the next several hours, the six young men there informed him in detail what life at the ranch was going to be like.

He got thrown into the mainstream of it immediately, as he'd arrived on a Friday, and that was payday on all of the ranches there about.

He was fucked by seven cowboys in succession that evening, having almost no time to make it back into the bar room until some other guy had signed his dance card. He was the new guy and he was perfectly formed, a blond, and fair of face. What he wasn't was just another grizzled cowboy. The clients had enough of that out on the range during the week. It was no surprise he was in high demand.

Sunday and Monday weren't so demanding, but they were demanding enough.

On Tuesday night, the ranch was raided by the vice squad from Las Vegas.

Jose was as surprised to see Rick under a guy in one of the small rooms as Rick was to see Jose.

"I'll escort you out like I'm taking you in," he hissed in Rick's ear as soon as he'd dragged the cowboy off Rick and propelled him into the corridor and into the arms of another vice cop. "But I'll take you to the barn or someplace where we can hide you. Stay there until I come back for you." Rick gave Jose a gist of how he had come to be there as they were looking for bales of hay to shelter him in the barn. He assured Jose that he hadn't chosen to be at Stallion Ranch.

Rick had several hours to think about his life and where he was before Jose got back to him. The first thing Jose said was, "I'll see that the guy running this operation gets everything that's coming to him."

"I'd rather that we go after the pimp who brought me here," Rick answered.

"I don't quite know how we'll do that. He will have cleared out of that room in the Mandalay Bay before we can get to him."

"That's true. But I overheard him and another guy talking. He's taking his business to the Internet-based in Limassol, Cyprus. He's been in big business for decades. It will be a feather in your cap if you can initiate taking him down. Here's what I think we should do . . ."