The Circle of Lords

Chapter One

Night of Submission

"S'il vous plait, Monsieurs! Je ne suis pas homosexuel! Ne me faites pas faire ça!" pleaded the muscular young soldier being led barefoot and naked through the torchlit passage. "Je vous en supplie, ne m'utilisez pas car j'utilise les femmes du village!" How well the handsome prisoner whose bad luck it was to be captured during a recent battle knew the fate awaiting him. He had heard the rumors about Le Cercle des Lords. Then while waiting to confess his sins to a local priest behind a pile of hay in a village near their camp he had overheard a young knight sobbing while he poured out the story of his night of torture, humiliation and sexual abuse by the Lords.

* * *

Beginning with that first La Nuit de la Soumission in a dungeon in the bowels of a Burgundian castle in 1517, on the first day of the first New Moon of each calendar quarter a group of men, and in recent years women, received the same brief cryptic message, an address nothing more.

Inclusion in Le Cercle des Lords was once limited to powerful friends with common and unique sexual interests. Years, decades, centuries passed, monarchies fell, fashions changed and social classes mingled. Le Cercle des Lords changed too. Membership once exclusively male now included women, and once consisting of nobles, highly respected artists, senior clerics, intellectuals and very wealthy merchants broaden to include athletes, members of the military, musicians and entertainers. The French language title was dropped in favor of a more contemporary sounding Circle of Lords, or just The Circle. Where notice of the location of each quarterly gathering was once delivered by finely penned notes on small rolls of parchment then later on hand-delivered notes on purple edged vellum and eventually by an anonymous voice over the telephone, the announcement now arrived by text message.

There was never a need to adjust schedules. Every member knew the date and time which, like the date of the announcement of the location never changed. Except when prevented by war or plague, a Night of Submission had been held on the evening of second Full Moon of each quarter beginning at 9 p.m. since that first one in 1517. Those who could, scheduled their attendance at the beginning of each year especially since within 24-hours of responding with their intention to attend each quarter an email arrived with travel and lodging reservations paid by The Circle.

The upcoming gathering would be at 2000 Astral Drive in Los Angeles. Like all venues selected for a Night of Submission, the home was borrowed for a 7-day period from owners who had no affiliation with The Circle and no knowledge of the purpose for which it would be used. In exchange for the inconvenience of surrendering their home for a week, the owners received a very generous rental fee and week-long all-expense-paid accommodations for themselves and their children, if they had children, at the 5-Star resort or hotel of their choice anywhere in the world. The site, a very large late-20th Century southern California modern on an exceptionally large walled and gated property atop one of the highest of the Hollywood Hills offered restricted access and complete privacy. The agenda for these ultra-secret sessions is always the same, the presentation in submission of an exceptional young straight adult male for the visual and interactive enjoyment of all, and as a one-use item to be auctioned off that evening.

When Michael arrived at the gate of the home high atop Nichols Canyon, he found it guarded by two muscular young men who from their stance and positioning were not just attractive showpieces. He knew their capabilities. He was also aware four more just like them were at their assigned posts around the property and that all of these young men had in recent years served very different purposes on nights such as this.

After exchanging pleasantries a guard told Michael where to park and with a smile wished him a nice evening. "I definitely intend to do that," Michael replied as the gate began to swing silently open. It had not yet come to a stop as his Tesla accelerated through and across a large stone-paved courtyard. I never tire of the view of L.A. from the hills at night, he thought while taking in the breathtaking sight of endless ribbons of streetlights stretching to the horizon as he guided his car slowly along a curving drive below the home's western-facing nearly all-glass façade and slipped his car into line in front of those already parked. Car counting told him that about twenty-five people had already arrived.

After making his way around to the front of the house, Michael nodded to the guards stationed at either side of a walkway leading to the front door. Like the two identically dressed guards at the gate, it was obvious that these young men clad in black jeans, black short sleeve, button-down collar shirts, and ankle-high black Ferragamo boots with matching belts were as capable as they were decorative. Smiling, he strode up the wide flagstone walk to the front door, stopping once to reach out and stroke one of the dozens of Bird of Paradise stalks flanking either side of the walk.

Michael stepped into the home's spacious foyer but had not yet had time to glance around before a slender arm wrapped around his neck and warm lips pressed to his ear, "Hello sweetheart, you're finally here," whispered Sandra Trist, a Dominatrix and one of his closest friends. "Hi baby," he replied, turning and kissing her on the lips. "How is it tonight?"

"You are going to like what they've found for us. I can't wait for the auction," Sandra, laughed loudly. "I said they, but maybe you were involved?"

"That nice, huh? Well then, I should make my way through and take a look. And no, I had nothing to do with the selection."

"Come, let's stop at the bar first," Sandra chided softly taking Michael's arm and guiding him across the room towards several people gathered in front of a built-in wet bar. "Remember you're a Lord now. With all that privilege comes obligation, noblesse oblige they used to call it. You need to say hello."

Michael understood and indicated so with a nod. He still wasn't totally comfortable with the honor and accompanying responsibilities bestowed upon him at The Circle's last annual convocation.

While liked and respected, Michael was surprised and a bit unsure if he was up to the task when he learned was elevated to The Circle's leadership.

The Lords were five highly regarded individuals whose word was law but who in exchange for the honor bestowed upon them were expected to safeguard the organization and lend guidance and assistance to its members. During their tenure, each Lord held a position on The Circle's twelve-member Finance Committee which also included seven individuals carefully chosen for their financial and ethical acumen. Collectively the Finance Committee was responsible for liaising with the banks and counselors that managed the Circle of Lords multibillion-dollar investment portfolio grown over the centuries from the fortunes of several of the organization's founders. Little known and even then, only among the most discreet financiers, when applied the Circle of Lords' influence on international finance was on par with that of a mid-sized hedge fund or a multinational corporation.

Although far more diversified than in 1517, the Circle of Lords still included very recognizable names, its influence derived from its huge accumulated treasure when exercised altered events, and of course the love of and homage to domination and submission at the organization's core all required protection and must remain secret. Unknown to them those being considered for membership underwent the most exhaustive background examinations. Individuals who were passed over never learned of these investigations. Those who became members never objected. As a perk of membership, any member was able to call upon the Lords or the Finance Committee for mentoring, to arbitrate disputes between them, for personal financial guidance, or for other forms of support. It was understood that during their tenure Lords were responsible for helping members advance as much as they desired and were capable of professionally, socially and economically. Few regardless of age, class or profession failed to benefit from their association with The Circle. Michael took these responsibilities very seriously, and they weighed heavily on him.

"One nice thing among all the other nice things about us having all that money," Michael said leaning close whispering in Sandra's ear and referring to The Circle's treasure as she was handing him his drink. "Is being able to pay everyone's expenses for attending these debauched little gatherings. It is nice to know the lack of cash doesn't deny anyone. Cheers!" He added with a smile, raising his glass to hers. "Now let's go. Show me what's so special about the young man on the block tonight."

* * *

The naked athletic twenty-four-year-old was everything Sandra had intimated. His perspiration damp flesh glistened under the overhead spots. Bent forward over the wine-colored padded leather-wrapped bondage horse bar his well-defined but not overly developed muscles trembled visibly.

The once always in charge, totally in control straight man was completely helpless. His legs were spread wide with his ankles lashed to the stainless-steel legs of the device over which he lay naked and ass up. His body was secured to the leather-covered bar by a wide leather strap wrapped around his chest which was in turn connected by a tightly stretched strap to a ring on the horse's base. It was impossible for him to attempt to free himself because his hands were bound at the wrist high up behind his back and secured to the strap encircling his chest.

Thin streams of drool that flowed from the corners of his widely stretched and stuffed mouth joined at the underside of his chin and dripped onto the floor. Unable to push the thick leather cock-gag strapped around his head out from between his widespread lips with his saliva drenched tongue, he could only snarl and grunt while his dark blue eyes darted from one to another of the men and women who approached to touch, caress, squeeze and pinch every inch of his bound body. They all knew he was straight. That only made his desperate pleading glances for pity more delicious as they ran their hands over the bulging mounds of his shoulders and biceps, down the curve of his arched back and up over his smooth, muscular flexing ass. Women particularly enjoyed slapping his treacherous steel-hard circumcised penis now in full erection, making the once-proud young stud howl as his throbbing cock whipped from side-to-side splashing precum all over his straining thighs.

The soft murmuring of the crowd and the clinking of ice in their glasses were not enough to drown out the sound of the young man's whimpering or his loud begging and pleas for mercy as one or another man or woman toyed with his quivering ass lips or teasingly inserted a finger knuckle deep into his never previously penetrated asshole.

Word of this particular offering had attracted an unusually high degree of interest beyond that usually drawn to the spectacle of a young heterosexual male in his prime being debased and used in the most sexually humiliating ways. The team charged with acquiring appropriate subjects for submission on these special nights had learned that even though he was recently married this particular young man took particular enjoyment in being vocal about his sexual exploits, his female conquests. More research discovered that although he lived with a woman and was as far as could be determined straight, because of his financial circumstances he would probably be agreeable to offering himself up for sexual abuse and as whore for private use if well compensated.

Chris Bowman had looked forward to this night. Despite appearances, the last thing he wanted was for that big leather cock to be removed from his mouth or for the men and sadistic women who were abusing him to stop. It took great planning for him to be able to slip away from his girlfriend for this evening. He had heard rumors about a hyper secret organization like this when he was in college, but that's all it was then rumors. No one he ever met had ever met anyone who actually knew anything about such a group. Then he met two guys in a bar who started talking about kinky sex. Man, did his ears perk up. They hooked up for drinks a few nights later and again the talk came around to kinky stuff. Chris was all ears, all ears and hard dick. One of them even asked him if he had ever been fucked by a chick wearing a strap on! He told them no, but said he did jerk off watching porn and wondering what that must be like. A week later he slipped away for a few hours and met them again. That when they laid it on him, the whole gig, everything they wanted him to do for them and how much they would pay him to do it. Hell yeah, he was down for it!

Posed as he was now stripped naked, bent forward with his back arched, his muscular legs spread Chris knew his firm, dimpled ass was perfectly presented. His own mental image of how he must look combined with the sight of an attractive well-dressed fortyish brunette and a good-looking guy standing beside him as he felt fingertips massaging and probing his virgin asshole kept his cock hard as steel and dancing for his tormentors. Chris whimpered loudly and his cock belched precum when the man squatted down and while gently rubbing the sensitive little clit spot on the underside of his cock whispered into his ear, "Are you wondering if it will be a man or a woman who will buy you later and spend the night fucking that tight, sweet virgin ass of yours straight man? Hmmm? I think you hope it will be a man who gives your ass the fucking it so badly deserves."

When Michael and Sandra entered the large dimly lit room with the panoramic view of Los Angeles laid out through its all-glass south and west-facing window walls, they were greeted by the sound of leather striking flesh blending with Chris's pitiful groans and garbled not very manly shrieks. Sliding through the small crowd gathered in a circle to observe, Sandra squeezed Michael's forearm whispering," I do like this."

As he had been all evening and would be until released to be put on display for auction, Chris was in position over the bondage horse. Three chairs had been pulled up, one to the right and one to the left side of him in front of the horse, and one behind him between his spread legs. Two women sat on the chairs in front and a man on the one in back. As the women took turns stroking Chris's hard leaking cock and rolling, squeezing and tugging on his big egg-shaped balls, the man casually whipped Chris's muscular young ass with a small soft leather flogger alternately lashing his right cheek and then the left while constantly rubbing and tickling Chris's tight spasming asshole. The sights and sounds of Chris squirming around bound to that padded bondage horse as his straight cock obediently burped out precum and his asshole clutched its tormentor's fingertip as if he was a well-trained slut were of course recorded. From the size of the puddle on the floor beneath the bent over slave's chest Michael could tell that Chris had the potential to become exactly that.

In a different part of the house, in a different building on the property to be exact, two other young men were also experiencing a Night of Submission. Unfortunately for them, Ricky Tomes and Kevin O'Brian were enduring a night that would end quite differently than Chris Bowman's. Ricky and Kevin had made the mistake of assaulting and seriously injuring a Circle member and while they had escaped the authorities, they had not eluded The Circle's much more determined efforts to identify and capture them.

The two straight twenty-year-olds were in the home's detached garage, naked, trussed up like pigs and tied down facing each other on a bench their mouths joined and stuffed by the bulbous heads of a double-headed dildo while being fucked up the ass at constantly varying speeds by very big mechanized dildos. Their cocks were locked in metal tubes which along with the small clamps attached to their nipples were wired to a device that applied a small electric shock every fifteen seconds. The boys were alone. No one heard their garbled screams. Shortly before dawn, a van would arrive and the boys would be drugged, strapped into a crate, and carted off to San Pedro for loading onto a ship. During the two-week trip to the Middle East they would receive the training necessary to make them fetch high prices at the Syrian slave market. The war, ISIS, not even Trump's craziness has interfered with business at the market.

Coming in January 2020

Chapter Two

The Auction and Voyage