Copyright 2008 by Luc Milne. lucmilne@telus.net All rights reserved. One copy may be downloaded for personal use.
MEAT SCOUT 2
"My First Buy"
I started with The Pleasure Corporation when I was 21 and just out of university. I had taken a Bachelor's degree in marketing and sales in the Business School, so I understood, in theory at least, the principles of supply and demand and the mechanics of buying and selling, no matter what the product. One of my professors asked me if I would like to take an interfiew with an "entertainment" conglomerate. Thinking I might end up working for some multimedia organization marketing films and CDs, and planning advertising campaigns for Las Vegas casinos, I readily agreed.
The professor knew that I was open to offers from the wilder side of the business world, because he'd offered to suck my cock one afternoon in his office and I'd opened my fly and porked his mouth before he'd finished speaking. Later, after introducing me to various joys of mansex, he began to have "seminars" in his office with one or two other profs and a few graduate students who thoroughly turned me out and made me into the cocksucking, assfucking sado/maso expert I am today.
It didn't take long for me to understand just what The Pleasure Corporation's business really was, and I knew from the beginning that it was the place for me. They started me out as a simple Meat Scout in the Procurement Division: that meant that I had no responsibility for actually buying or acquiring manmeat, only for sniffing out prime flesh and passing the information on to the professional procurers.
I spent a lot of pleasant hours in locker rooms of gyms and men's athletic clubs making mental notes of the swingingest dicks and the juciest buns available: the tricky part of the job was finding out names and work or home addresses to give to the "buyer". (I use the word loosely, since a lot or procurement involved more than just "buying"--seduction, entrapment, blackmail, and abduction may also be involved.) I was also given the names of school and college coaches who were clients of various Pleasure Corporation branches: these men were often willing to let me visit their locker rooms as well, under the guise of being a sports scout for some professional team. That way I got to examine the meat up close. The same applied to prison guards, cops, and members of the military police forces--users of Pleasure Corporation services, who were willing to let a scout have a look at the men and boys being stripped down and examined before being put in jail or in the brig. Once a prisoner with prime meat was identified, it was up the the procurers to make deals with the Wardens and higher officers for the release of the flesh into Corporation custody and control.
As time went by, I became more than a simple scout: I was also sent out to examine and evaluate goods being offered by slavers and other suppliers who had merchandise to sell; eventually I was allowed to meet with private suppliers--fathers, uncles, guardians, or other family members who had boys and young men they wanted to sell or lease to us for training. Finally after three years of thie apprenticeship, I was made a Junior Procurer and given the power to actually purchase meat or arrange for its acquisition by some other means. I had a fund from which I could draw money for cash sales, and I had access to the Corporation's "heavy squad" for procurements which required force or actual kidnaping.
I remember that my first actual purchase was a young kid being offered by his father for hard cash and no "buy-back" option once the boy was trained. (Sometimes a guy will sell us a son or nephew with the proviso that they can buy him back for their own use after training and a specified time of service.) The man had been "vetted" by The Corporation to make sure that he was not a "plant" or part of a sting operation: it turned out that he was a paid-up member of Boy Suckers International and a regular customer of the Boys to Go delivery service.
I went to the address given--a medium sized house in a Los Angeles suburb, and was led into a teenager's bedroom--rock posters on the walls, computer, ipod, gamebox, racks of cd's and dvd's, jockey shorts and sweatsocks scattered, and skin mags peeking out from under the bed. The kid was tied to the unmade bed on his back, wrists and legs spread wide, with a sock gag in his mouth. He was mad as hell and glared at me as his father offered to sell him for an outrageous price. He appeared to be completely "wild" meat--i.e. unused--and his father assured me that he had never laid a hand on the boy. Apparently he preferred to have his boy burgers and teen sausage delivered from Boys to Go rather than eat what was in the cupboard at home. But, from the way he licked his lips whever he looked down at the kid's crotch I had a feeling that he'd had a least a snack of that eight inches of swelling teenage cock.
As I looked the boy over, I realized the significance of a photo hanging on the wall above his desk: a swim team of some sort, showing boys in speedos lined up for what looked like a high school annual team picture. There, in the front row, hands tucked behind him thrusting out his well-formed pecs, his slim but muscular legs spread wide in a defiant stance, was this boy on the bed. The caption beneath the picture said "Water Polo Squad" with the date. Looking back at the prime boyflesh tied down for my inspection I saw that his chest had that Y-shaped spread of a swimmer with nipples that looked as if they could be vacu-pumped up to a mouth-filling succulence.
I stayed about half an hour, dickering down the price, fingerfucking the punk's virgin ass and sampling some sweet teen precum at the same time. It was just the kind of meat the Corporation wants--versatile, fresh, and capable of being trained for any one of the several divisions: as a creamteat for the Milk Farms, as a fuckboy in the brothels or at the Fuck Corrals of the S/M Ranches, as a "nutboy" (he had ripe, crackable nuts) in the cocktail lounge of a Cock and Ball Restaurant, or just as a desireable lot at one of the Corporation's high-end slave auctions. The man eagerly offered to pull a load of cum out of the kid so I could see how much joyjuice he was capable of producing, but I passed on the offer because it was pretty clear that this boy would make a fine milk cow if that was what The Corporation decided his fate should be.
I questioned the father about the reasons for the sale: it turned out the mother had vanished with some other guy and the man was selling up and moving to a new town to begin afresh: the money from the sale of his son's meat would help him with start-up funds. It was June, the end of a school year, so no one from the boy's high school would think it odd that he had "moved away". I didn't bother to ask the boy's name because I knew that all "units"--the official Corporation term for acquired flesh--were renamed during processing. Finally, having arrived at a decent price, I paid the father his cash and we carried the kid out to the garage and loaded him into my van, where we tied him down to the bed in the back.
As I was driving back to the transfer terminal at the airport--the boy was going to be sent to an Arizona processing and training centre--I suddently realized that I had made my first purchase of a human being, and that for a short time that purchase was completely mine to do with as I wanted. I pulled over into a shopping mall parking lot, found a secluded spot under some shade trees at the very edge of the area and stopped. I crawled into the back of the van and spent over an hour feasting on the kid.
I rimmed his sweet ass until he shuddered and shot a load of cum three feet into the air. Then I licked the hot stuff off his torso, chewing on his rosy tits and nipping at the tender skin between his taut thighs. I gobbled his balls and jacked his meat until he shot another load of cum--this time directly down my throat. I fucked his cherry ass--not hard, because I didn't want to do any damage--but just long enough to get my own nut off. I turned him over, crawled up his chest and blasted my wad onto his face, then slobber-licked it off, while he groaned and cursed behind his gag. I rubbed my still-leaking dick all over that handsome face, making it slick and shiny with after-cum. I wasn't foolish enough to stick my prick into an untried, angry teenager's mouth, but I rubbed my wet cumlips into his nostrils, giving him a good scent of the stuff he was going to spend a lifetime smelling and eating and shooting. Finally, I took my still half-hard dick and used it as a bludgeon on his own swollen shaft and heavy balls, "beating his meat" in ways he'd never imagined. I held his shaft in my fist, squeezing it hard so his cockhead swelled up, red and ripe, then slammed my limber cock down hard and repeatedly against his gaping cumlips. His third shoot was mostly "dry", but there was just enough boyjuice to give me one final taste of my first "buy".
I've never had another purchase that was quite so satisfying. although, like all scouts and procurers, I often have to "test" the merchandise before buying.
One of my fellow scouts once asked my why I don't use the "employee discount" to buy a slaveboy of my own from The Corporation. I had thought about it, but then realized that I wouldn't want a single piece of flesh to use over and over again. In my work I've gotten to crave variety--new cocks every day to fondle and suckle--and new purchases to sample before they get pulled into the system of the Pleasure Corporation's "processing" schools and "enhancement" labs.
Incidentally, I met the kid again, by chance, while I was spending some leisure time at the southwest Big Game Preserve--getting in a little man-hunting between long afternoons spent around the Lodge's pool, being serviced by the wet mouths of the pool boys. One morning I ordered breakfast served in my room, and when the waiter arrived with a cart delivering my scrambled eggs, brown toast, hash-browns, orange juice, and all the rest, I saw that the boy attached by a neck leash to the handle of the cart was, in fact, my very first purchase--the water polo kid. The waiter asked if I would like some hot boybutter on my toast or some boycream in my coffee. I told him to leave the kid with me--that I was happy to do my own milking.
When the waiter left, I asked the kid if he recognized me. He looked at me for a moment and said, "Yes, Sir, you're the man who bought me from my dad."
I told him that he was looking good: his cock had been enhanced to a thick ten inches of swollen boymeat and his balls had been stretched and enlarged so they hung invitingly below the moist helmet head of his dick. His tits, as I had imagined they would be, were pumped to the size of strawberries and looked as if they got a lot of greedy chewing by the guests. I spooned a little honey on each of them and ate it off voraciously while I explored his body with my hands. I told him to turn around and saw that his butt cheeks were even rounder and firmer than when I'd bought him. I spread them and rubbed cherry jam from the breakfast tray onto the pink rosebud, poking some of the sweet stuff deep into the hole with my fingers. Then I licked his ass-cleft clean, digging down into his pucker to get the jam out. I reached around and felt that his cock had swollen even longer and fatter: a squeeze on his balls made them quiver uncontrollably and his well-defined six-pack began to heave with excitement.
This boy had been well trained by the labs and was a delectable cum fountain ready to be tapped. I grabbed his cockshaft hard in one fist and thumbed his protruding cocklips firmly until he began to spew his cream. There was enough to flavour my eggs, spice up my coffee, and butter my toast as well. I sucked out the last sweet drops, then used the massive head of his penis to spread the cum over my bread, and stir my warm coffee. While I ate, I made him get under the table and lick my cock and balls. As he slobbered and tongue-stroked me, he answered my questions about his life with The Corporation.
His name was, appropriately, Polo, and he was being trained as a luxury pleasure slave for eventual sale to a private harem or exclusive sex club. He wasn't used as one of the prey animals for hunters at the Game Preserve, but did serve as "refreshment boy" along the hiking trails. He would be tied to a tree, or bent over a log along the trail to be sucked or fucked by hikers who were taking a day off their hunting schedules. In addition to being a Room Service Milkboy he was undergoing further enhancements in the labs. His throat was being conditioned for extreme deep probing by massive meat and his semen production was being increased to a maxiumum level of about 8 to 12 ounces in every 24 hour period. When he was finally offered for auction on the luxuy slave market he would probably bring a price of about a half-million dollars.
I checked his mouth and throat capacity by stuffing my cock and both my balls into his face before choking him on my heavy cum. He swallowed it all and his gag muscles continued milking my corona for a long, satisfying after-suck.
After he crawled out from under the table and stood with his legs spread and his crotch thrust forward for any more pleasure I wanted to take from his meat, I asked if he'd ever heard from his father. He said no, but that once when he was being used as a menu item on the Boys to Go service for Boy Suckers International, he had a client who insisted that he be delivered to a house bound, gagged, blindfolded, and with plugs in his ears. While I idly squeezed his nuts and squeeze-milked his prick, he described how the man had eaten his cock and balls savagely for about three hours, and that during the ordeal he had the feeling that he knew the man's "touch". He said he thought it was his father, because the guy was gnawing and mouth-pulling at his penis just like his father had done before I arrived on the day he was sold.
I told him him if that was true, it was probably just as well that he'd been sold, because if he'd stayed with his dad he might not have a cock and balls left by now. He laughed and started to say something else, but by then the image of his father chewing away in his crotch like a dog with a juicy bone made me so hot I took his ripe moist cockhead in my mouth and roughed sucked it until he began to pant and whine. I got his balls in both my fists and pumped them hard, as I mercilessly gnawed at his cumlips until a hot fountain of semen gushed into my mouth and flowed down my gulping throat. He staggered and seemed about to fall, so I pulled off his meat, pushed him down to his knees, took his head between my hands and pressed his gasping mouth down on my meat. masturbating my long thick cock with his throat until I fed him one more load. Afterwards I spent a long time with one hand on his throat and my other hand gripping my limber meat, cockwhipping his pretty face until it was sticky and slick with the after-juice of my lust.
I hope some middle eastern oil billionaire is getting good use out of him and feeding him all the arab semen he can eat.
End of Part 2