It was a chilly autumn night in the city. We zoom into a busy street in the shopping district, to a late night café announced by old neon letters spelling out the name of a person who once owned it. Inside, we spot our two protagonists, a girl and a boy. The boy is talking now, telling a story about the time he ditched his high school prom to go ice skating with his buddies, the last time they all hung out together before going off to college. It's been a few years, but he recounts the details with fervor, his lively pupils darting about the room as if he was first learning to skate again, grasping with his eyes for solid ground, trying to keep balance.
Our young man, Harry, a 21 year old junior in college, finds unexpected joy in talking about his youth. People aren't typically interested in listening to him ramble about his past, he thinks to himself. But occasionally his eyes, in their search for balance, land on the girl across the table and for an instant he freezes, as those dark brown ovals penetrate his gaze and hold him down, at once imploring him to continue and yet demanding he tell her everything, every last secretive thought in his soul. Harry was aware of this, and throughout the night he had been sipping at his coffee strategically to break the cycle of interrogation she seemed to perpetuate with her gaze, but he had long since run dry and silently cursed at this. Now he had no defense against her truth elixir stare, and he found himself mentioning increasingly personal thoughts about his own life.
Harry was a nervous wreck. Megan figured this out 10 minutes into their date. She studied his face while he spoke, following his dark eyebrows and long lashes, his pronounced brow ridge complementing his slightly angular jaw. Honestly a pretty boy. They had organized this on Tinder, so the intentions were obvious, but he didn't seem to have much experience with dates. Every time he wrapped a story up Megan made a sound evoking her surprise and approval and interest all at once and then watched as he squirmed against the silence for a few moments before coming up with another remark. "It's like playing with your food", she thought. She smirked at the thought of how much she had learned about him compared with how little she had revealed about herself.
Megan looked at her watch and suddenly rose. Harry betrayed a moment of alarm, and hastily tried to hide it by coolly commenting "It's getting late, huh? I should probably get some sleep before class."
"Well, it was very nice meeting you!" Megan flashed him a smile slightly too wide for a natural parting, and extended her hand. Harry's heart jumped out of his throat. A handshake? That didn't seem right at all. Oh god, she doesn't give a shit about me. He limply reached out and met her hand, once again betraying every ounce of his panic by the flushing of his cheeks.
"Uhh, it was nice to meet you too..." His hand lingered in hers for a moment, but he quickly thought better of adding anything else and with a slight nod of his head turned towards the door. "I'm out that way" he said, vaguely gesturing to his right, "but uhh, if you ever wanna do something like this again, just shoot me a text, okay?" That was good, he thought to himself, keep it cool, noncommittal, pretend like you don't care either way.
"Actually, I live that way too! Can you walk me home?" Megan widened her oval eyes and looked up at him expectantly. She fought hard not to burst out in laughter as he turned an even brighter shade of red.
"Uhm yeah, of course. Uh, show me the way," he stammered out. What the hell? A whole cacophony in his mind erupted. What was Megan thinking? Just a moment ago all his hopes were dashed away by that miserably platonic handshake, and now it seemed she wasn't completely repulsed by him. Did she like him? Did she dislike him? Was this some kind of weird friend-zoning maneuver? It was all too much to figure out and Harry was starting to short circuit, so they walked in silence for a few moments.
"You know," Megan suddenly interjected, "I think you have a lot of potential."
Dead silence. What the hell does that mean? Harry couldn't figure out what to say.
"As an engineer, I mean!" Megan flashed her wide friendly smile at him. "I mean, you work so hard, and you really care about the details. That's all super important, isn't it?"
Harry stammered for a second, but picked up the thread just before it got awkward. "Oh yeah, I hope you're right." He chuckled artificially.
"Oh, you self deprecate too much. Woman like more confident men." Megan burned with delight as he watched Harry blush once again, this time not even trying to hide his dismay. "You can totally ignore this, but since we met on that app, I just wanted to tell you that I think you would make a wonderful friend. I'll invite you to one of my dorm parties later this month, okay?"
Harry took a deep breath and swallowed twice, desperately stifling the pain suddenly burning in his chest. It's okay, its just one rejection, don't worry about it dude.
"Oh, uhm, thanks for letting me know" his voice croaked out in a whisper. He subconsciously stepped away from her as they walked. "Yeah, I'll invite you over if I host anything too," Harry said in his best attempt at maintaining an air of calm. "I can handle this. It's not that bad." He repeated this to himself several times as they walked in silence. But something was off. Harry noticed his vision blurring. He saw two sidewalks, and after glancing over at Megan, saw two of her as well.
"Hey, you're turning a little green, are you okay?" Megan asked. Oh god, is this dude about to go crazy on me? Panic suddenly flashed in her mind. It was all fun to her, flipping back and forth on this innocent boy, building up his hopes and turning them to dust. She cast a sidelong glance at him, taking care to hide any fear in her demeanor, but was at once assaulted by a feeling of dizziness. Megan stumbled forward, seeking out a nearby bench as her vision narrowed. "Hey, Harry, I'm feeling a little off," she said, more to herself than to him. But Harry was suddenly at the same bench as her, vomiting over the railing. In the next moment she saw black.
"WAKE UP EVERYBODY!" A booming voice echoed in what felt like a narrow and chilly room. Megan blinked her eyes. She reached over to rub them but suddenly realized her arms were not moving. She gave them a tug. What the hell? They were fastened by her side. She was on her knees, but couldn't move her head to look around. Something was holding her in place, a cool metal bar she surmised was running along her back, holding her neck and head in line. Lights suddenly flooded the room, and Megan's eyes widened in terror. To her left, a naked man was tied to a pole, his arms fastened behind him, his junk hanging inches in front of a naked woman who seemed to be fixed in a kneeling position, her head held high to the point of her back arching, causing her perky tits to point out. She was blinking rapidly, obviously trying to adjust to the new lighting. What is going on? Panic set in as a thought dawned in Megan. She shifted her gaze to a flaccid penis not more than a few inches in front of her, attached to slender, tan legs. Her eyes slowly moved up his body, scanning his thin torso, tracing the faint outline of abdominal muscles and the beginnings of a muscular chest. Her eyes darted upwards, and she immediately registered Harry's sleeping face, his jaw slack, a line of spittle dripping down to his groin.
"WAKE UP!" the voice boomed again, and Harry snapped to attention, an expression of alarm animating his features. "What the fuck? what in the fuck?" Harry repeated to himself as he glanced around the room, taking in the scene of multiple couples in the same predicament. Then, with dread he lowered his gaze and locked eyes with Megan, taking in her kneeling, naked body. Her back arched to match her erect head, her eyes aimed up at him as if pleading. Harry drunk in her small, round breasts, whose quickly hardening nipples pointed straight forward. The total picture of her kneeling figure, her overly erect body and head held high, while her arms lay fastened by her side gave her an artificial air of determined subservience, at odds with the terrified expression on her face. A rush of blood flooded his penis. Megan's face morphed with irritation.
"Dammit Harry! Stop that! Don't look at me! Fucking help me out of this!" She shrieked at him.
"Shit shit shit, I can't fucking control it!" Harry freaked out as he realized he was now rock hard, the head of his dick pressed lightly against Megan's nose. She was desperately trying evade its touch, but the bindings didn't offer enough leeway.
"Harry, I need you to focus, dammit" shouted Megan. "I don't know what the fuck is going on, but now is not the time to get horny! Just see if you can wriggle out."
Harry budged and pulled, but the ropes were too tight. A low hum started to build up in the room. The other couples were all facing similar arguments, some shouting while others spoke rapidly in a panic. Harry looked back down at Megan, guilty that his swollen penis was now pressed up against her lips. But her flushed expression showed no hints of the demanding boss she was moments ago. "Hey Megan, are you alright? I'm trying my best here," he weakly managed.
"Oh Harry, uhm..." her voice trailed off momentarily. "Harry, they've got something pressed up against me here, its -- " Megan interrupted herself with a soft moan.
"Pressed where, Megan? Are you in pain?" Harry asked, forgetting his own helplessness.
"Oh Harry its not painful," --she let out another moan-- "I just, I think they're... stimulating me."
On these last words Harry ventured his gaze down and noticed a vibrator positioned right under her pussy. "She's turned on". This last thought was too much for Harry, still a virgin, and he instinctively lurched forward with his pelvis, dragging the tip of his penis across Megan's face. A dribble of precum settled on her upper lip, but she was oblivious, her eyes closed in ecstasy from the increasingly fast vibrations.
"TDOAY WE ARE GOING TO PLAY A GAME!" a voice boomed over a megaphone. "We are slavers looking for our latest product. We gathered you all here tonight to find the best and horniest slaves!" The speaker was interrupted by laughter. The couples all looked equally horrified. Even Megan had tightened out of her pleasure momentarily as the panic set in.
"Here is the deal. Women! You have the chance to avoid slavery. All you have to do is bring your partner over the edge, and we will release you. However, if you fail to make him cum before you reach your first orgasm, and believe me, we will know," again, the speaker was interrupted by laughter, "then we'll pack you up and sell you."
The speakers last words set in and Megan's heart began to pound. The constant vibrations got faster and faster and the feeling of helplessness, of being displayed before Harry, forced to kneel before him and accept his cock while she pathetically moaned was too much, and she felt an orgasm distantly approaching. Harry's cock poked at her face. It would be so easy to take in, to nurse and stimulate until he lost control. And he clearly couldn't control himself. Megan looked up at Harry's worried face, his flushed expression showing just how much he internally desired this, desired towering over her, forcing her to accept his manhood when she had just dashed his dreams away, forcing her to give herself up to him. Suddenly, Megan swelled with hatred towards Harry, Harry who seemed to be deriving nothing but unearned pleasure from this whole predicament. She hated how subservient she was, lowered to the level of his cock, forced to reckon with submitting herself now or submitting herself to a life of slavery.
"BUT!" the speaker echoed out, breaking Megan's train of thought. "But, since we are in need of the most pathetic male slaves, we will add one more little detail. The first man to cum will be sold to slavery as well!"
At these last words, Harry felt the hot whips of panic. Just a moment ago he was sure he could save Megan just by how eager his member seemed to be, but now, looking at the other couples with mostly older men, he noticed his dick was the most erect, the most engorged, the only one already dripping.
Megan took in the final condition with calculated coldness. So be it. He will suffer far more than me. Harry shot a worried glance at Megan, who wordlessly opened her mouth and began licking the head of his penis. The new stimulation sent shockwaves through him.
