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Author's Chapter Notes:

Things at the PC auction are getting even more distasteful but is there anything that Brian can do to help? Enjoy! TAG

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Chapter 2 - Far From Fair.


Brian wasn’t the only one taken with J327.


Howard Bellweather seemed positively entranced by the boy. Before Sapperstein was even finished with his sales pitch, Bellweather began to run his hands over the boy’s body, touching his limbs, feeling his genitals, pinching his butt cheek to test the firmness of the muscles, even tweaking a nipple to see how it felt between his fingers. Brian watched the boy unconsciously shying away from the touching at first, before he was quickly and efficiently reprimanded by The Sapp. As Sapperstein ordered the kid to stand still, Brian noticed that the boy seemed to jerk upright for a brief moment, his body almost seizing for one or two seconds, before once again resuming his formerly submissive pose. After that, J327 forced himself to stand still. However, as more and more people came up, crowding around him and starting to paw at him, the youth began to visibly tremble. Brian caught a momentary look of panic darting across the youth’s face, but knew there was nothing to be done about it. The kid would not be allowed to move and there wasn’t anything Brian could do to help him. So neither of them did anything.  


“So what's with this harness, Sapp? I want to check out the rest of the goods,” Bellweather complained as he wantonly fondled the boy’s cheek with one hand and tugged futilely at the snug leather band protecting the kid’s crack. “Come on, Gary. You don’t expect me to buy the car without checking under the hood first, do you?” Everyone laughed again.


“No way, Howie,” Sapperstein refused, pretending to bat away the potential buyer’s hands. “This kid is a complete and total virgin. He hasn’t had even so much as one pinky finger penetrating his tight little ass and I intend to keep it that way, at least for the next hour or so until he's sold. *Hahaha*. So there’s not going to be any test driving this merchandise beforehand. That's precisely why I put him in the belt - I knew all the degenerate reprobates like you wouldn't be able to keep their hands off his tender, untried ass and I wanted to keep this gem safe for its future owner.”


Bellweather sputtered a half-hearted objection but could clearly see that Sapperstein wasn't going to relent on this point so he didn't push. “You know you're killing me with this untouchable temptation, Gary,” he teased, eliciting another spate of chuckling from the crowd. “But, I guess I do see your point. I'd probably do the same in your position. I'm sure this sweet young thing has a perfectly tiny, tight little pucker and we wouldn't want it violated prematurely.”


The slimey man looked the boy over appreciatively once more, his hand caressing the planes of J327’s smooth, pale back with avid possessiveness. “Yes, he truly is lovely, Sapp. Probably the best item on tonight’s program. I think I'll be taking this one home myself. The idea of being the very first to crack open this perfect virgin ass is simply too delicious. I can already imagine how hot and tight he’ll be when I sink my dick in balls-deep with that first big thrust.” Bellweather licked his lips and actually moaned aloud at whatever further deviant images were flitting through his brain.


“I bet you’ll like that, won’t you, my Sweet,” Howard addressed the boy directly for the first time, trailing his fingertips down the side of the youth’s face in a lecherous caress. “You’re gonna love it when I rip through that cherry of yours.” J327 maintained his submissive pose but somehow still managed, to Brian's eyes, to convey just how terrified Bellweather’s proposal made him. Nobody else seemed to notice, or maybe they just didn't care. The table full of VIPs continued to laugh politely at Bellweather’s ongoing lewd comments. “You really are such a tempting and innocent morsel, my Sweet,” he added. “I'm sure my guests will love you - after I'm done initiating you, of course.”


That incongruous comment immediately captured Brian’s attention. “Guests?” he asked.


“Why, yes. It's become sort of a tradition for me to hold an Auction After-Party,” Bellweather explained cheerily. “It’s just my way of welcoming my new acquisitions into the fold, so to speak.”


“And they're always rip-roaring bashes too,” Stockwell piped up, his face wreathed in lascivious smiles as he fondly recalled several of these prior events to the listeners. “But the craziest was that time you had one of your PCs take on that huge bay stallion you brought up from your stables. Shit, Howie! I'll never forget that night. That was fucking amazing to watch. I still can’t believe the boy took all that . . .”


Bellweather and his cronies all laughed on cue at the apparently fond remembrance. “That WAS pretty incredible. Unfortunately the stallion was never the same after that - I was never able to ride him again . . . And I had to put the horse down too!” he joked and everyone apparently thought it was hilarious.


Except for J327, who finally couldn't take it anymore and, catching Sapperstein off guard, managed to pull away so abruptly that he tore the leash out of the Handler's hands before he ran off towards the back of the auditorium. The Sapp followed, grumbling about annoying virgin twinks and how they’re so much work . . . The VIPs just continued to laugh.


“You sure you want to buy that one, Howie?” Stockwell commented teasingly. “I think you'll have your hands full if you do. That one’s going to need a ton of discipline before he’ll be worth anything.”


“Not a problem, Jim. That’s the funnest part,” Bellweather replied with a wink and a chuckle of his own.


*Arrrgh* Cynthia grunted under her breath, having finally had more than she could stand. She stood from the table, threw down her napkin and stomped off in a very unladylike manner. The VIPs seemed to consider this just another part of the evening’s entertainment and laughed even harder at the woman’s huffy exit.


“It seems your ‘girlfriend’ has had her delicate sensibilities offended, Kinney,” Stockwell needled. “That's why I’ve always maintained that women shouldn’t be allowed to even come to these affairs. Most females can’t take it. Unless we’re talking about female PCs - now THEY can take just about anything you throw at them. Or into them. *Hahaha*.”


The rest of the table started to make even more jokes about female PCs, the stories getting raunchier and raunchier by the second, which was when Brian decided to follow Cynthia. He managed to leave much more politely, though, quietly excusing himself to his host and sauntering off unhurriedly, but almost as eager to get away from the distasteful tackiness as his assistant had been.


Brian found his erstwhile assistant pacing in the lobby. He could tell by the heated, angry glares and subvocal growling that the woman was beyond irate. He hesitated to even approach her for fear she would explode at any moment and take him out too. But Brian needed the woman sane and in one piece, so he cautiously edged closer, intent on calming the furious woman in red.


“Those crass, insensitive, fucking monsters! They're not only complete degenerates, they're inhuman. How can they talk like that about another human being? Treating him like a fucking animal. Talking about that poor boy like he wasn't even there. Like he was no more than a sex toy!” Cynthia raved, gesturing wildly with her hands and only just barely managing to keep herself from shouting in her rage. “Did you hear them all going on about the kid being a virgin and how excited that had them? Did you? And that creep, Bellweather, bragging about ‘cracking’ the boy open and then passing him around to his friends. That’s no way for anyone to lose their virginity. It’s basically legalized gang rape!”


Brian had to agree. He still remembered losing his own cherry to some big, fumbling oaf while pressed up against the grimy bricks of a dark alleyway, the stench of over-ripe garbage from the nearby dumpster enveloping all. It was a nasty, messy, painful experience, utterly devoid of anything resembling pleasure, and one of the reasons he'd never bottomed again. But at least it had been consensual. Brian had no one to blame for the poor outcome but himself. This kid, J327, wouldn't even have that rationalization to fall back on.


Brian, like most people, hadn't ever really given PCs much thought. Most of the time they were just part of the landscape. Part of the culture. He'd always figured that if someone was stupid enough - or desperate enough - to contractually obligate themselves into the role of a sex worker, they probably got what they deserved. Beyond that, though, he hadn’t really thought through the concept much.


But it was one thing for an experienced adult to sign away their life, and quite a different thing to see it happening to this kid. From the sounds of it, J327 didn't ever have much of a choice in the matter. His father had contracted him into the life when he was barely sixteen. He wasn't experienced. He hadn't had any time to live his life before being thrust into PCdom. First he'd been attacked and put into a coma by some rabid classmate and then, before he'd even recovered, he'd been forced into this impossible situation due to financial hardship. Now he was about to have his virginity auctioned off to the highest bidder - which would most likely end up being the utterly vile Howard Bellweather - and his new owner would be allowed to violate him in whatever despicable manner he chose. Without J327 being given any say in it at all.


It wasn't fair. In fact, it wasn't even in the neighborhood of fair. This whole situation was so far from fair that Brian didn't think the word ‘fair’ even registered anymore. In fact, it was just plain wrong. Brian did not want to think about what J327 was going to be subjected to. He didn't want to see the boy led off to the fate that was waiting for him . . . but then again, he didn't have any clue about what he could do to fix it.


Brian shook off his morose thoughts. He couldn't let himself worry about something he had no possible hope of remedying. He had to concentrate on what he'd come here to accomplish. He had a job to do and it wasn't rescuing twinks in trouble. He needed to get back in there and woo Lapointe and the other deep pockets. But to do that he needed his able assistant.


It took another ten minutes of talking, cajoling, pleading and eventually a strategic bribe before Brian finally had Cynthia calmed down. Finally, he convinced her to go to the ladies room and clean herself up. Then they would go back in there and try again to make nice with their potential client so they could get the hell out of the place as soon as possible. Cynthia only capitulated in the end because Brian promised they'd be out of there in no more than thirty minutes, tops, and she couldn't get a cab home any faster than that anyway. Brian then escorted the slightly disheveled woman to the ladies room, waiting for her outside because he really didn't want to go back into the hall before he had to either.


Brian paced the hallway, looking at the expensive art lining the walls, while he was waiting for Cynthia to reappear. Lapointe was obviously doing more than okay for himself, judging by the quality of these paintings. Brian recognized several rather well known artists among the bunch. Apparently, human trafficking paid well. As he was contemplating one more of these masterpieces, which happened to be hanging at the farthest end of the hall, Brian heard a muffled scream coming from the room just to his left. Since the door was ajar it was a simple matter to take the two steps needed to allow him to peek through the crack.


Behind the door was what appeared to be a small storage room. The walls were lined with shelves full of cleaning supplies, linens and other miscellania. That was what you would expect to see in such a place. What he didn’t expect to see was Gary Sapperstein looming over J327 with an angry look that made his less than attractive face look even more repellant. The Sapp also had some type of electronic device in his hand that resembled a standard television remote control. However, when the Handler pressed and held the button on the device, J327 seized up, his entire body quaking uncontrollably for several moments before the boy dropped to his knees, crying out in pain. Only then did Sapperstein let up on the remote device.


“How dare you embarrass me like that in front of all those potential customers! Running away. Making it look like I don’t know how to train my stock,” Sapperstein growled at the groveling boy at his feet. Pressing the button on the remote one more time, he hissed, “I’ll teach you not to disobey me ever again, boy.” The boy whimpered as his body convulsed yet again. “I’m just glad that you’re going on the block today. I can’t wait to be rid of your useless, disobedient ass! And you better behave for your new owner, too, you little screw up. If you do anything to negate this sale so that I have to take you back, I’ll make you rue the day you were fucking born,”


Brian was too stunned by what he was seeing to do anything at first. He could only stare in horror at the scene unfolding before his eyes. Luckily, Cynthia, who had just arrived and was now standing behind Brian, reacted faster. She was not going to let this torture go on even one more second. With a growl that was worthy of a rampaging lioness, the bold blonde woman shouldered her way past Brian, reached out towards Sapperstein and wrenched the small black remote out of his hand before the Handler even realized what was going on.


“What the FUCK do you think you’re doing, Sapperstein! You can’t use this crap on the kid like that. Not only is THIS,” she held the device up in front of his face demonstratively, “illegal in Pennsylvania, but if you keep zapping him like that without let up, you’ll give him fucking brain damage.”


“Fuck you, lady. You don’t know shit and you’ve got no business telling me what to do. Now get the hell out of my face and let me handle disciplining MY stock the way I see fit,” Gary ordered, snatching the device back from Cynthia and squaring his shoulders as if ready to take her and Brian on physically.


“I don’t think so, Sapp,” Cynthia spit out the name as if it left a sour taste in her mouth just to speak it aloud. “We’re not going anywhere until you back the fuck off and let the boy be. And you know why you’re going to do just that, don’t you?” Sapperstein had started off eying the woman as if she was just so much dirt under his boot, but then, when she didn’t back down, he began to look at her with a bit more wariness. “Because, if you DON’T do what I say, Sapp, I’m going to march back into that hall and tell my new friend, Walter Lapointe, exactly what you’ve been up to and how you were about to use his auction to try and pass off a damaged PC - the one that you claimed was ‘a little slow’ because of his prior accident, but who could just as easily have been damaged here in Lapointe’s facility, right under his nose and on his insurance rider, by this handy little ILLEGAL gadget. That should be enough to get you banned for life from not only this auction house but every other house in the eastern US.”


“Nobody would believe you, bitch,” Gary argued, but his voice was already a lot less forceful than he’d sounded just a minute before.


“Try me, Hosebag,” Cynthia snarled, staring the man down as if she did this kind of thing on a daily basis.


Sapperstein stared back for about thirty seconds before relenting. He glared at the petite blonde - his face set in a threatening grimace - then grabbed the remote device back from Cynthia’s hand, tugged the boy back up onto his feet, and hustled the kid out of the room. Brian and Cynthia turned to watch as the pair disappeared through another set of doors that presumably led to the stage area where the rest of the auction goods were being made ready.


It wasn’t until the doors slammed shut behind The Sapp and his boy that Brian started breathing again. “What the Fuck WAS that thing?” he demanded as he turned to look at the fearless woman standing next to him.


“They call them PC Enforcers,” Cynthia started to explain. “They work sort of like an internal taser, shocking the PC until he or she complies.” When she noted that Brian still looked confused, Cynthia elaborated further. “So, you know how every PC has a tracking microchip that’s implanted in their neck,” Brian nodded - everyone had heard of that, of course - and Cynthia went on with her explanation. “Well, those chips are always implanted super deep and situated in such a way that they basically butt right up against the PC’s spine. Because of this placement, the chip can’t be removed without almost certainly damaging or possibly even killing the PC. This is done purposely so that nobody can steal a PC, alter the chip and then try to resell them. It also means that nobody can free a PC by simply removing the chip illegally. But, because of the chip’s location right next to the spinal cord, there’s a direct link to the PC’s nervous system. Those Enforcer things use that link to deliver a shock directly to the brain when the chip is hit with a certain frequency of radio wave. That’s what Sapperstein was doing with that thing - shocking the boy into submission.” Both Cynthia and Brian shuddered empathetically at the thought. “Of course, PC Enforcers are illegal in most states, but that doesn’t stop unethical Handlers like Sapperstein from using them to discipline their stock. It’s actually considered by some to be the most humane way to train them since it obviates the use of other forms of corporal punishment and prevents any damage to the PC’s body. However, it’s also known to be horribly painful.” Which was clear from the reaction they’d just seen and didn’t make either of them feel any better about the abuse they’d just witnessed.


“You know what?” Brian came to an easy conclusion. “Fuck Vance and fuck this place. I don’t care what the hell Lapointe’s advertising budget is like. I just need to get the hell out of here. Right now. Vance can go screw himself if he doesn’t like it.”


Cynthia agreed wholeheartedly. They had both had more than enough for one night. Brian proposed that they go get Cynthia’s wrap from the table where it had been left, say a polite goodbye to Lapointe - just for propriety’s sake - and then claim some personal emergency that meant they had to leave immediately. Vance could assign some other toady to kiss Lapointe’s ass if he still wanted to go after this account.


Brian wasn’t going to get within a hundred yards of anything PC ever again.


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Chapter End Notes:

10/4/16 - I'm going to try and crank this one out as fast as possible because NaNoWriMo starts November 1st! Hold on to your fictional hats folks. TAG

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