Gay Erotic Stories

Roger rushed out to the stable to meet the truck and waited impatiently while Mitch and Ray unloaded his new whores. Mitch, the driver, together with his partner, Ray, procured for Roger. Twice a year they delivered a new lot, one in spring and another in fall. A pair of ex-cons, they thought nothing of abducting hot, young faggots for Roger. It was just business to them. Roger opened The Ranch three years ago, after his club went under. He had met enough wealthy queers in Vegas to know there was a market for what he offered, a classy brothel with a twist. Roger did not pimp scrawny, drug addicted hustlers and runaways, both of which were plentiful in the city. No, he pimped clean, young faggots with hot bodies, whom he coerced into selling their asses for him. He was ruthless and used all manner of torments to convince them to play by his rules. Three young studs in blue jeans were hauled from the back of the van and dumped on the ground at Roger’s feet. Each was stripped to the waist, with their feet bared, and their heads shrouded beneath black hoods, so Roger could not see their faces. Their wrists were cuffed behind their backs and their ankles were manacled. Ray stood over the lot and butted each in turn with the barrel of his rifle. All three squirmed and whimpered. Mitch hauled a tall, broad-shouldered faggot, with beefy arms and full pecs topped by large, juicy nipples, onto his feet. The fag’s hands were large, with spidery fingers, and he had long, slender feet, with some of the longest toes Roger had ever seen. Roger wondered if the fag had a dick to match. It was hard to tell, for his jeans were loose. Either way, if he had a handsome face, the fag could be quite popular. “Caught this one stumbling home from the fag bars,” said Mitch, “Name’s Finn Leary. He’s twenty-three, six-three, and two hundred twelve pounds. Forty-six inch chest, thirty-two inch waist, and size thirteen feet. I know you like to know these things.” The big faggot cowered there, shuffling and grunting, while Mitch dragged the next fag onto his feet. This one was tall as well, though perhaps an inch or so shorter than the first. Leaner too, but still well-built, with a hard, flat chest topped by tiny little nipple nubs, and a flat stomach to match. His arms were long and lean, too, and his feet big were topped in blonde fuzz. “This one was holding hands with that one,” Mitch said, indicating Finn, “So we nabbed us two pretty little fudge packers in one swoop. Name’s James Thompson. Twenty-five, six-two, and a hundred-ninety five pounds. Forty-two inch chest, thirty inch waist, with size twelve feet.” The driver dragged James over by Finn. “Don’t they make a fine pair of butt slutts?” “Sure do,” replied Roger, who was already ogling the third fag, “What else you got for me here?” Ray hauled the last one onto his feet and presented him, while Mitch continued. “Drake Harper. Works as a trainer at this homo gym. Twenty-nine, just over six foot tall, and weighs one-ninety five as well. Forty-four inch chest, thirty one inch waist, and size elevens.” This one had a gym-honed hard body with full, firm man tits topped by big, stiff nipples. He was smooth and hairless, with ripped abs, and wide, high-arched feet. All three were more than adequate for Roger’s purpose. No doubt, their fine, young bodies would inspire his clients to return again and again to pleasure themselves. “Now, I know you said you only wanted three,” said Mitch, “But if you’d be in the market for a fourth, I have another. Care to take a looksee?” Roger typically offered three at a time, but business had been good and with the holiday season coming, he figured why not. “Sure, I’ll take a peek.” Ray stood guard over the three, whimpering sluts-to-be, while Mitch opened the passenger door, and lifted the seat forward to reveal a storage space behind the cab. Stuffed in there was another tall, lean dude with a rockin’ body. “This one’s an underwear model, if you can believe it. Name’s Jed Parker. Twenty-two, six one, and weighs about one-ninety. Forty-two inch chest, thirty inch waist, and size twelve feet. When we spotted him, we figured why not. He was parked out way out behind this fag bar, where the street lamps were out, so it was easy enough to surprise his ass and snag him. What do you think?” “Will you give me a group rate on him?” “Sure. What else am I going to do with his ass. I’ll toss him in for half-price.” “Deal.” Roger slipped a few more bills into an envelope and handed it to Mitch. Mitch thanked him and then he and his partner took off. Roger called out his boys, Sam and Danny, and had the two bruisers haul the fags into the stable, so he could get to work. Sam hefted Finn up over one shoulder and lugged the big jock inside, while Danny wrapped the fag’s blonde boyfriend around his neck in a fireman’s hold, and followed. Roger kicked the knees out from under the other two and shoved their faces in the dirt, then stood guard over them until his boys returned. He slipped his pistol from the waistband of his slacks and pressed it against the backs of each of their heads in turn. “You know what’s good for you, you little faggots, you’ll stay down.” The two did as they were told, cowered there, simpering and trembling at his feet, until the boys returned for them. Sam took the trainer and Danny the model and Roger followed them inside. The boys piled the two in the center of the room atop the other pair and stepped back to await further instructions. Roger circled the pile of writhing, squirming homos and smiled. It was a beautiful lot that would more than earn their keep. The fags grunted and groaned, and hurled garbled threats and protests at no one in particular. Roger savored their distress. It was all part of the process. With fags, it was as much a mind fuck as anything else. Since they were not repulsed by sex with another man, in fact, quite the contrary, Roger merely had to convince them they had no other choice but to whore for him. Over the years, Roger had found it most effective to teach new whores who was in charge from the get go and make certain they understood in no uncertain terms that he was capable of doing whatever it took to keep them in line. It was imperative they fear him or they would never agree to sell their asses. Personally, Roger much preferred to bust a straight boy’s cherry, and occasionally even indulged that urge, but fags made much better whores. “Welcome to The Ranch, faggots! Now, listen up! Your mine for the next six months. Do as your told and your time here won’t be so bad. In fact, you might even catch yourself a sugar daddy. Two of my last boys left in limos at the end of their term. Defy me, however, and I will make you wish you had never been born.” Upon hearing his little introduction, the fags struggled harder than ever to loosen their bonds. The big boy, Finn, raised up onto his haunches and growled. The trainer yanked and tugged on his wrists and ankles, rubbed himself raw in his frenzy, and the two blondes simpered and squirmed on their bellies. Roger indicated the big jock. “Show me the goods on that one first,” he barked. Sam and Danny seized Finn by the arms and dragged him off the pile. They wrestled the big jock down on his back, and Danny pinned his legs, so Sam could loosen his manacles and slip them off. Finn growled at them to get their hands off him and threatened to kick their asses, which made Roger smile. The boys reversed roles. Sam pinned Finn’s bony ankles to the floor, while Danny wrestled his jeans and tight black briefs off. The big jock had long, smooth, strong legs and a short, fat, cut cock, with two fat, furry little balls tucked beneath it, surround by a scant brown bush. The boys forced the beefy fag’s legs back and pinned his ankles up by his ears, so his wide ass was splayed for Roger to examine. The boy bucked and thrashed, not at all happy to be on display. Danny slapped the panicked fag's fat nuts and gave them a firm squeeze, and that settled him down to a quiet whimper. Finn was a strong, young stud, but he was a faggot, so Roger had not doubt he could be worn down. Roger slipped on a rubber glove and squeezed a glob of lube onto his fingers. He rubbed them together and smeared his fingers up and down Finn’s wide, hairless butt crack. The big faggot squirmed and squealed for him to stop. Roger scratched his thumb over the jock's fag twat and popped it inside. Finn howled. He was nice and tight. Roger suspected he did not like to get fucked, but he could learn. Roger drove his thumb in and out of that fag twat for several minutes, until the boy was blubbering for him to stop. “Fetch me a tail.” Danny dug one of out of storage and brought it over. It had a nice, bulbous plug and a full sweep of coarse, shiny brown hair sprouting from its base. Roger twisted it up the big, squealing fag. The beautiful jock writhed his ass about and howled, desperate to shit it back out. He was going to make a fine pony boy. Roger knew the tails were a gimmick, but his clients enjoyed them, and that was all that mattered. It was The Ranch, after all, and they expected a little show. His boys hauled the simpering faggot onto his big hoofers, marched him over to an empty stall, and shoved him inside. A rope rigged from the rafters was clipped to his wrists, and the sniveling jock’s arms were drawn up tight between his shoulder blades, until he was balanced on the balls of his big dogs, hunched over, knees bent, and squirming so that his tail flicked from side to side. The big jock was going to make a fine whore by the time Roger was through with him. The boys dragged the trainer off the pile next and stripped off his jeans. Sprouting from his curly brown bush was a pretty, cut cock of average length, not too thick, not too thin, that complimented his toned physique. HIs entire, smooth body was tanned, so Roger knew he wasn’t shy. His hard, round ass had a pretty, puckered pink fag twat hiding in-between a fine pair of tight buttocks. Roger popped his thumb inside and the gorgeous faggot squealed. Roger dug around inside his shrieking ass for a few minutes and could not determine for certain whether or not he had been fucked before. The trainer was tight, but nowhere near as tight as the big jock. Roger gave Drake his tail and the pony boy was trotted off to his cell and trussed up. The big jock’s boyfriend, James, had a long, slender cut cock that was overgrown by a thick, blonde bush. His legs were slender and fuzzy. The boys flipped the simpering fag over to reveal a pert, dimpled ass perched high atop those long legs. Roger felt blondie up and determined he had most definitely been fucked. His fag twat was nice and inviting and he moaned deep when he was fingered. Roger tailed the randy fag and the boys trussed him up in his stall. Finally, only the hot model was left. The faggot tried to wriggled away on his belly, but Sam and Danny just seized him by the ankles, and dragged him back. His jeans were whisked off and Roger found it ironic that the model was not wearing any briefs. Curled back over his smooth thigh was the biggest cock of the lot, nice and thick, too. Even limp, it was a prize. Roger sure was glad now that he had said yes to the fag. Jed’s legs were long like the others, and smooth, and he had a beautiful, firm bubble butt. It only took Roger a moment to discern the fag had been fucked before, and recently, too. His fag twat was still slick with lube. Roger gave the pretty model a nice, fat tail and savored his sweet yelps. The boys shoved his pretty ass into the last empty stall and hoisted him up onto the balls of his wide feet like the others. It was time to see their mugs. A pretty or handsome face could make or break a whore. The big, beefy faggot, Finn, with the stubby fat cock intrigued him. Roger marched over and Sam swung the stable gate back so he could pass. He loosed the fag’s hood and whipped it off. Finn was quite handsome in a boy-next-door way, with a wide forehead, big, green eyes, a sharp straight nose, full lips, and a strong chin covered in mousy brown fuzz. Mousy brown as well, his mussed hair just brushed the tops of his ears. He stared down at Roger, eyes wide, brow furrowed, and suckled nervously on the bandana stuffed in his mouth. His confusion and terror almost made Roger cream his jeans. “Hoist this big fag up a bit more. Yeah, that’s it. All the way up onto those freaky, long toes.” The beefy jock tottered about, sweat coursing from his broad back and smooth shoulders, and wiggled his ass around, no doubt in an effort to find a comfortable spot for his new tail. He arched his back, and craned his neck to see what was going on down there. When he spied the tail, he groaned, and strained even harder to pop it out, clearly not pleased. Roger was most curious about the sexy underwear model next. With that big dick, he was a prize, and if he had a pretty face to go with that fine, young body, it would be an added bonus. Roger lifted the hood and his face lit up as he stared into this sweet, heart-shaped face with bright blue eyes, high-cheek bones, a dimpled chin, and the fullest pair of lips he had ever seen, spread wide round their bandana gag. The sexy fag’s dirty blond hair was cropped close on the sides and a bit longer on top. It was nice and thick, too. His only flaw was that his ears stuck out a bit, but with that beautiful cocksucker those might prove an advantage, because they could be used as handles to steady him. The sexy model’s eyes were wide with panic. He craned his neck back in order to see what was stuffed up his ass and sobbed when he spotted his new tail. Next up was the hard-bodied trainer, Drake. Drake had a mug so handsome it took Roger’s breath away. No single feature dominated, but each was well above average, and the whole was magnificent. The fag had smoldering brown eyes, a sharp nose, high-cheek bones, full, pouty lips that peeled back around their bandana gag, and a square jaw with a cute little dimple in the middle of his chin. His dark, brown hair was neatly trimmed to frame his handsome face. Overall, Roger had to conceded that, despite the jock’s size and the model’s cock, Drake was best in show. The gorgeous faggot cursed and struggled against his bonds, shuffled about until his tail swooshed. Roger noted that, unlike the others, he did not sneak a peak. Last up was the lean boyfriend, James. The cute, tall, blonde faggot danced about on his slender soles, toes splayed, the most skittish of the lot. Roger noted the fag had very tight tendons that held his calves taunt and kept his toes from lying completely flat. His wide, pretty face sported bright, green eyes that were more emerald than the jock’s. He had a wide mouth with thin lips that were stuffed with a bandana as well, and his trim blonde hair had highlights. All in all, Mitch and Ray had outdone themselves. Each of these faggots would make a fine whore, once he accepted that he had no choice in the matter. Being trained as pony boys taught them discipline and humility, two lessons that would come in handy when they later sold their hot asses More importantly, it showed them Roger was capable of doing some pretty nasty things to them if they did not cooperate. “Ok, now, listen up! You faggots have been brought here for one reason and one reason only. To whore those sweet cocksuckers and fine fag twats. You will be trained to be the best little fuck and sucks you can be and then put to work.” The wide-eyed faggots shuffled around in the centers of their stalls and carried on. Finn growled at Roger and shook his ass, enraged. Tears spilled down his boyfriend James's sweet cheeks. Jed was trying desperately to reason with Roger, while Draked tore at his wrists and flung himself about his stall, hurling curses and threats at them, desperate to break free. All four were red-faced and not at all happy about their tails, but the big jock seemed the most bothered of all. He screwed his handsome mug up, grunted, and strained his damnedest to shit the thing back out. Roger used his phone to snap some shots to post later. “Each of you is more than adequately equipped for the job and strong enough to take it. Once your six months is up you will be sent on your way with a few thousand dollars in your pockets for your time.” All four faggots were strong, but it had been severals hours since they had been snatched, so they were beginning to show signs of fatigue. Their struggles weakened and demanded ever more effort to muster. The big jock had to slump still and catch his breath every so often and his sobbing boyfriend no longer even tried to free himself. The trainer strained harder and harder to find the strength to wrestle with his bonds, paused every few seconds to adjust his ass, while the hot model had started to cry. “Now, listen. Let’s be honest with ourselves. You’re faggots. You like to suck dick and get your asses fucked. Well, most of you anyhow.” Roger shot a glance a the big jock’s horrified mug and winked. “Right now, your just scared. You don’t like the idea of being forced to have sex. But it’s just sex and I guarantee you horny fags will enjoy it if you will let yourselves. Might even pick up a Richie Rich to take care of your ass when your term is over. Especially you.” He winked at the hot model with the big dick. Roger left his new whores in care of his boys, with strict instructions to leave them be. He wanted to give the fags some time to ponder what he had said and decide what they were going to do. His best guess was that Finn and Drake would be trouble, but James and Jed would fold rather quickly. In all likelihood, he could use James to convince Finn to behave. Drake he might have to get tough with. He did not relish scarring that gorgeous body, but would do what he had to do. Roger went back up to the house and logged on to his computer. He downloaded the shots he had taken, tweaked them a bit, and posted them on his heavily secured website, with a ‘coming soon’ announcement about his new lot. Afterwards, too excited to eat anything, he poured himself a bloody mary for breakfast, and settled into his favorite rocker on the porch to watch the sun rise. He loved it out here in the desert. It was so peaceful and quiet. After a bit, he wandered back inside to watch a bit of news and take a little nap.