“Party Animal” –by Amalaric, Part 4 of 6

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Part 4.      

Though the hour was late my host seemed more energised than ever. I caught the eye of my buddy in rapt conversation with Brent’s feminine partner and he nodded almost imperceptibly, giving the green light to hang in there a bit longer. Relieved, I encouraged Brent to continue the story. ‘The demo was free of charge, but you know how that sort of thing goes…when we finished with him it was time to get down to business and I suspected the actual rentals (not to mention sales) would cost us a bundle…but we were all primed, stoned on quality booze, and that poor naked kid shackled to the post had done his job; yeah, that’s right- whet our collective appetites for more.

The ‘showroom’ was actually a series of corridors and cubicles where the real merchandise- either guys personally selected by clients from the lobster tanks, or others referred to as ‘specials’- was seductively displayed. Mainly, the captives were shackled against a wall; always at wrists and ankles rendering them immobile and docile, sometimes also with iron collars, which was a nice touch. Our obsequious guide explained that prospective customers liked to view and examine the merchandise in various ways and the company catered to all tastes. For instance, one of the first studs we were shown stood against a brick wall, shackled in place at wrists and ankles and also by an iron collar. Utterly helpless, the buck simply stared into indeterminate space, fully aware, I guess, of his fate and conscious that there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do about it. He looked like maybe he was in his mid-twenties, slightly more mature than the demo with a light dusting of hair on chest and belly, lean and muscular, with smooth tanned skin, like someone who maybe had spent time outdoors with his shirt off…maybe a construction worker or something. Naturally, he was stripped to the waist but unlike the demo, this one was allowed to keep his trousers on- suggestively unzipped and spread wide; a nice touch as the dipping waistband and bulge in his exposed white cotton fly fronts shrieked a loud advertisement to explore the wonders of his obviously very well-endowed young manhood. The accommodating proprietor gave an affirmative nod and we gathered eagerly around the helpless victim for a (Brent coughed politely) rather intimate examination of the proffered goods. In the end we all reckoned that his price was a tad too high and moved on…but not before thoroughly humiliating the proud stud and reducing him to tears.

Most of the guys occupying the various cubicles that comprised the ‘showroom’ were shackled to the smooth walls of their respective areas buck naked…as, I guess, most of the clientele of the joint was eager to get down to business and liked them that way. We noticed the three previously selected by our group from the lobster tank, now completely stripped and on display, shackled together against the wall of a single cubicle. After quite a bit of invasive fingering and some heated discussion, we decided to rent two of them on a trial basis, returning one (looking both exhausted and oddly relieved) to the communal tank. The two ‘lucky’ enough to be chosen didn’t seem all that thrilled by the honour, seeming instead to be terrified if their wide eyes and heavy breathing were any indication… At any rate, they were released from the display position against the wall and hustled from the cubicle for what the proprietor referred to as processing. Sounds like a fucking butcher shop, I said and you know what, Ric?’ I gulped, suddenly pale and slightly queasy as my host blithely continued, ‘The slick dude- all prissy in his shiny bottle green suit with a smile like a great white shark- winked at me like we were sharing some kind of dirty secret…’ Brent trailed off, muttering suddenly almost inaudible, ‘and, hey, maybe we were…maybe we had all fucking stumbled into the world’s classiest, craziest, kinkiest…butcher shop. I just dunno.’

Time was passing quickly and though I was anything but tired I also realised that the night was far spent and courtesy demanded that we should make our excuses, tender effusive thanks, and head back to our own dingy digs on the other side of the island. Still…I was riveted to Brent’s strange story. My host, on the other hand, never glanced at the ticking clock and seemed completely oblivious to anything but his harrowing tale. ‘Yeah, well, one of the small army of obsequious clerks or minions or whatever ushered our party from the cubicles and suggested that perhaps we would like to tour another part of the rambling establishment that he referred to as the stalls. Hey! Why not? Our fearless leader, Steve, slurring his words because he had had way too much of the establishment’s free booze, nevertheless, also seemed to posses equal measures of energy and curiosity…so, oblivious to the passing time, we all trooped after the minion into an elevator that immediately plunged several floors before gliding to a feather soft landing. You guessed it, Ric; welcome to the stalls! And that is exactly what they were; kind of like a rambling barn or stable, yeah more like a stable, except the stalls were all carefully numbered and had bars on the locked doors and windows.



1 thought on ““Party Animal” –by Amalaric, Part 4 of 6

  1. Yes. It appears that the super rich have all the real fun. Too bad the average guy can’t book passage to this resort to indulge his wildest fantasies. This series of manips is quintessential Amalaric and though I have my favorite, any would do.

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