Gay Erotic Stories

The slave auction was organized on campus by a fraternity and its affiliated sorority, ostensibly as a fundraiser for the children’s hospital in the neighboring city. Only male students were up for auction to the highest female bidders. The highest bidders would be awarded the “rights” to full cooperation from the purchased male for whatever suited her fancy for one evening within the next 2 weeks. That I was invited to place myself up for auction surprised me, as most of the candidates were the obvious frat brothers and campus jocks. I am short, only 5’6” barefoot. I do have a good build with broad shoulders and slim hips, being an exercise freak who was known to workout at the campus gym regularly. I had been invited to pledge a couple of fraternities, but I regarded myself a serious student and feared that the fraternity lifestyle might distract me from my academic pursuits. The co-ed whom I was dating at the time was on scholarship and had no available cash for auction bids but encouraged me to participate anyway. The event itself was flirtatiously raucous, the air filled with obvious sexual tension. Many of the guys, as the auctioneers were presenting them, sported ill-concealed erections encouraged by the high-pitched squeals and screams of the mostly female audience. It seemed the more conspicuous the bulge and the lengthier the protrusion tented by the flimsy material of their gym or bike shorts, the longer the available student was exhibited on the stage and the higher the resulting bids. The captain of the basketball team was auctioned off to the president of the sponsoring sorority for $600. I was one of the last slaves to be auctioned. I did not muster any swell I supposed from nervousness. It seemed like hours before the first bid was declared, despite the earnest entreaties by the auctioneer who commanded me to strike the silliest poses. The fact that the winning bid placed for me was only $35 was only the first humiliation. Everyone looked to the back of the crowd as the auctioneer announced the winner. I was bought by a severe looking overweight teaching fellow who was reputed to be a masculine dyke. As instructed, I met with my buyer at the registration table. As I approached her, I was accompanied by amused giggles from the girls and derisive catcalls from the guys. “Relax, Shorty,” she scornfully intoned. “I am acting as a purveyor for someone else. Oh, and don’t worry: I agreed to keep this a secret with HIM.” I thought I had misheard. “You mean, her?” “You heard me right the first time, half pint,” she growled with a smirk. I was thunderstruck. I briefly debated withdrawing from the whole thing. I decided to give the matter more consideration in the intervening week as I did not have to report for “duty” until the following Friday, no later than 9:00 PM. Whenever I focused on this strange future encounter I could not help myself from being overwhelmed by a sense of curiosity and feel my dick stir and swell. Ambiguously, I would be disgusted with this response for I had repressed any attraction to others of my own sex. As the hour of my appointment approached, I rebelliously donned a sweatshirt, worn baggy jeans, and a pair of worn out athletic shoes: hardly the attire I would have worn on a proper date. I had decided that I would accede to the wishes of my obligatory partner but show myself as uninterested. The address was on the outskirts of town. The residence turned out to be a sprawling bungalow that had probably been a frat house. Upon climbing well-lit porch stairs, I did not have to knock as the “Valkyrie” was waiting for me at the door with her ugly smirk. She led me inside. To the left was a small parlor partitioned with a stairway. To the right, was a wall partly covered with a bookcase lined with works of various academic disciples. Beyond this was a closed door. Straight ahead, the hallway led to another closed door. She led me down the hallway and opened the door to what appeared to be a small butler’s pantry. It was faintly lit with bare tables and chairs, counters, and cupboards. There was another door on the right and one at the other end. “Now listen carefully,” she spoke with some annoyance. “I am about to give you the instructions of your slave agreement. When I leave, you are to immediately take off ALL your clothes. Having done so, you will knock on this door.” She motioned to the door that was on our right as we entered. “Your slave owner is waiting in the next room. When he responds, open the door and enter the room. From then on, do everything he asks of you and without reservation.” Again, that reptilian smile spread over her face. “You know you could back out of this arrangement right now. But if you do not, you must do EVERYTHING that is demanded of you or else I will report you immediately to the Greek Council and your days left on this campus will be a living hell thanks to asshole jocks and sorority bitches who won’t forget.” The sadistic witch turned to leave. She paused and turned as she opened the door. “And don’t forget, when you enter that room, you are to be completely naked.” As she closed the door, she cackled, “have fun.” I fumed and thought about the tortures that I would inflict on her if only we could meet again, alone. Quickly, I recovered my senses and wondered how I could have found myself in such a bizarre situation as I peeled off my clothing. Again, I was caught up in my ambiguous feelings of revulsion coupled with physical excitement as I contemplated what fate might befall me. When I was stripped down to my boxers, I was horrified to acknowledge my raging boner. I thought I was contributing to a charity function only to find myself embarrassed, humiliated, and possibly sexually blackmailed. It seemed my response to all this misfortune could not have been more inappropriate. My loins were on fire and my cock and balls ached with sexual energy. “By God,” I thought. I cannot let this pervert see me in such a state. I desperately tried to think of something dull to assuage my excitement. I tried to think of the problems in my calculus assignment. Whatever came to mind, thoughts about the immediate future would resurface and I couldn’t contain my arousal. To the contrary, by now my shorts were off and I was shocked to see that I was copiously leaking pre-cum from the end of my 6 1/2” uncut cock. My dickhead was a wet swollen red knob with the foreskin almost completely stretched back. I was frantic, getting cold, and wondering how I could change my physical state. Suddenly I heard the she-wolf bark from the other side of the door, “get on with it buster or I will strip you myself and drag you into this room by your blonde hairs.” That scared me to knock on the assigned door immediately. Better to take my chances with this slave driver then to be thrust upon by such an apparition in my state of distress. From behind the appointed portal, a gruff, slightly gravelly low-pitched voice yelled, “Come in.” I tentatively opened the door just enough to look in and yet still conceal my nudity. The room was nearly dark as drawn curtains or blinds must have screened out whatever streetlight would have otherwise filtered into the room. Only 2 or 3 candles were lit on the floor and low end tables, rendering most of the room pitch black. The candles were lit on my end of the room, and 2 more on regular height tables at the very back. I detected a silhouette seated at the far end of the room, but in front of the back candles. It was obvious that he was supposed to see me well and I was not meant to have a good look at my master. The seated figure seemed tall, I estimated at least 6 feet, and the low candle light was bright enough to reveal 2 large rugged looking feet on the floor, adorned only with dark colored flip flops. The light was bright enough still to see the ends of legs with thick mats of hair. In the hindsight of my subsequent physical experience with men, I can now say that I was encountering a major stud. “I shouldn’t have to repeat myself!” The low voice sounded almost threatening. I scooted in the room, flushed and shivering slightly, quickly but gently closing the door behind me. Louder, this voice with dominating authority quipped, “I did not instruct you to close the door. But now that it is closed, leave it so. Let me look at you.” My heart was pounding. I turned to him frightened out of my wits, stark naked and conspicuously aroused. I almost stuttered as I feebly mumbled, “Uhh, I guess because of the strangeness of all this, I’ve gotten hard.” The silhouetted figure did not seem phased by this remark in the least. Very softly but in that low voice he implored me to “come here.” Now reader, I hope you can appreciate the mixed feelings of a young initiate in this kind of circumstance. I was covered with goose flesh and had never felt so vulnerable in my life. I dreaded what intentions this controller had for me. I was profoundly disappointed in my lack of self-control. At the same time, my distress was being overshadowed by intense physical curiosity and a yearning wish that this domineering ogre would find pleasure in my helplessness and nakedness. I was not to be disappointed.