Bound: Contemporary M/M Romance (Auctioned Book 2)

by Rana Drake

  Bound

  Auctioned #2

  Rana Drake

  1

  Collin

  No sooner had I stepped into the noisy football stadium than I wanted to leave. I couldn't believe people from the city actually paid good money to come take part in this shit show that was the college football scene. Everywhere I looked was a sea of orange and grey, the team colors - and people were displaying their team colors in every way imaginable - from t shirts to full painted chests. I of course, was wearing a purple hoodie and I stood out like a sore thumb. I glanced down at my ticket to find out where my seat was located, thinking to myself how stupid it was that I had agreed to come to this game just to support my friend who was in the marching band - it's not like he was going to be able to see me cheering him on in this huge stadium anyway.

  I stood awkwardly in front of the concessions, squinting to read the menu. Maybe a giant plate of nachos would help ease the pain of having to sit in this circus of overzealous football fans. When I saw the prices, I quickly decided against buying anything at all. I was a full time college student living on loans, I couldn't afford to pay twelve dollars for a damn snack. I made my way into the bleachers instead with the plan to just find my seat and stay there until at least the half time show was over. I had promised Allen I would be here, and if he asked me what I thought of the show, I was going to have to come up with something. I found my seat in the middle of the row, but luckily, the rest of the seats weren't full yet so I didn't have to trip over very many people on my way in. Both of the seats next to me were empty, but I knew they most likely wouldn't be for long. I slunk down in my chair and pulled out my phone in an attempt to not make eye contact with anyone. I had told myself I would get over my shyness when I started college, but that was a year ago, and so far, I hadn't gotten much better. There were plenty of hot guys here that I'd love to talk to, so it isn't like I wasn't interested in anyone, but it was more the opposite problem. None of them were interested in me - a skinny, bookish sophomore that threw up after three drinks.

  People were shuffling around in the row behind me, and I put my phone away in fear that they would see what was on my screen - a social media forum dedicated to the BDSM scene. It wasn't something I would ever actually take part in, but I had a fascination with lurking on the forums, reading about the daring bondage sessions of others. It was entertainment only, and fodder for when I was alone in my dorm room and could let my imagination run wild when I pleased myself. I shouldn't be reading that shit in public anyway, I told myself. If someone ever caught me doing it, I'd be labeled a pervert and humiliated.

  Instead, I stretched, and glanced behind me at the bleachers above. My eyes fell on a guy sitting a few rows back - a massive hunk with long, curly dark hair that was pulled back in a ponytail, and a well-trimmed beard. He was wearing a black v necked t shirt, even though it was chilly enough that most people were at least wearing a light jacket. I guess someone as hot as him didn't need the extra layer- and I was glad. His ripped musculature was on display nicely for me to admire. I openly gawked at him, thinking to myself how rare of a find a guy like him was on campus. He must not be a student, because I would have noticed him before.

  Suddenly he looked up from his lap and locked eyes with me. I'd been caught staring. I immediately looked away, turning around to face the field as the game began. I waited all through the first quarter before I dared to look back again. I was sure he would be gone, or would be engaged with his friends, but when I looked back, he was staring straight at me, locking my gaze and giving me a tiny, almost imperceptible smile.

  My face burning, I turned around quickly, but it didn't do any good. I could feel his eyes on the back of my head. He must think I was the creepiest little nerd he had ever seen. I'd be lucky if he didn't try to kick my ass for looking at him with such obvious sexual interest. Most dudes that looked like that weren't gay, to my continuous disappointment.

  I needed to get out of there, and I had to go to the bathroom anyway. After awkwardly excusing myself as I squeezed by the football fans that had me blocked on all sides, I finally made my way to the aisle and scurried down the steps as fast as I could, without looking back again.

  The main restrooms near the concessions had a ridiculous line, even for the men's room. By the time I got through all the people I really had to go, so I quickly walked toward the smaller restrooms that were near the west entrance. There were never many people on this end of the stadium since these were the less popular seats.

  Thankfully, there was nobody in the restroom and I happily relieved myself with a sigh of comfort. I washed up and headed out, looking down at my phone as I walked and calculating how much time I would actually need to stay here before heading home. A collision with what seemed like a brick wall of a body made me look up.

  "I'm sorry," I said automatically, then lost all trace of my voice when I saw that I had run straight into the hot guy from the bleachers, right outside the restroom.

  "It's ok," he said, looking down at me and smiling. "Hey, weren't you sitting near me in the stands?"

  "Um, I'm not sure," I lied.

  He raised his eyebrows, not believing me for a second. "You were. I saw you. A few rows ahead of me. I couldn't forget a face like yours."

  I felt my cheeks redden. I had no idea what to say but my feet wouldn't work to carry me out of this uncomfortable situation. I just smiled stupidly.

  "Are you a student here?" he asked.

  I nodded, thankful for a question I knew the answer to. "Yeah, I'm a sophomore. Do you go here?"

  He shook his head. "Used to. Dropped out, just here to watch my brother play in the game. Football isn’t really my thing, and the concession prices here suck."

  I laughed. "Yeah, me either. I'm here for a friend, too. He's in the band."

  He laughed as if I had told a joke. "My name is Brent," he stuck his hand out. "What's yours?"

  "Collin," I said, shaking his hand and hoping he didn't notice the nervous tremor coursing through me. It wasn't every day a hot man paid attention to me. In fact, it had never happened.

  "I have a bottle in my car. Want to come out and have a shot with me?"

  I hesitated.

  "Or we could just chat or whatever. I'm just kind of bored here in the game and you looked like you were, too."

  I wasn't so stupid that I was going to say no to an opportunity like this, even though the thought of being alone with him terrified me as well as aroused me.

  "Sure," I said. "Why not?"

  "Awesome, let's go." He stared walking toward the exit, smiling at me. I tried to keep my cool as I followed him to the parking lot.

  "I'm parked out this way," he pointed to the far end of the lot. "Sorry, it's a bit of a hike, but I figured it'd be easier to get out of here when this thing is over. Besides, it's nice and private for stealing away to drink personal booze," he laughed.

  "Good thinking," I laughed with him, as if I followed hot strangers to their cars all the time.

  We hiked through the quiet parking lot as he kept up the chatter, asking me about my major and where I was from. I answered all of his questions truthfully, enjoying the attention. Brent was the total package - hot, funny, and completely interested in me.

  As we got closer to the edge of the lot, I started to wonder exactly how far out he had parked. It was starting to feel like we had been walking forever when he finally slowed down, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket.

  "I'm just in this van right over here," he pointed to a black van with tinted windows. The thing looked like some sort of ominous surveillance vehicle. Suddenly, alarm bells started to g
o off, but I quelled my anxiety. Not now was my social anxiety going to surge up and ruin this for me. I marched onward with him. When we got close to the van, I jumped as the side door suddenly opened up and two men hopped out, each one grabbing me on either side and pulling me inside before slamming the door shut.

  2

  Jake

  I am fucking exhausted and I am getting sick of this shit.

  Back when I first met Hunter Greyson and learned of this club, I thought I had found my true life calling - buying and selling sexual servants, training submissives, and making millions of dollars a year, tax free? Yeah, sign me up, I'd told him. It’s the type of arrangement I'd dreamed of since I was a young entrepreneur, struggling to make it in a fixed and rigged system, while paying to attend BDSM clubs in my free time just in order to appease my need to dominate. I met Hunter at a private seminar for businessmen, where I was hoping to rub elbows and network with some of the big boys, and that I did. He took me under his wing all those years ago, when we'd become fast friends - and that wasn't something that everyone did with a man like Hunter. He was a tough nut to crack, but so was I. We were basically two peas in a pod, and I quickly became his wingman as he built this club from the ground up. Most of the credit belonged to him of course. There was no way I could have pulled off something like this with the resources that I had, but I played my role, too. I'd worked tirelessly for him over the years, and had helped put together a solid crew of like-minded associates. I don't know if he could have done it without me in the beginning, either. It was harder than ever to find someone to trust to not screw up something as big as this. After all these years of work, we pretty much owned the trade in the eastern part of the country, if not, nationwide. Men travelled from far and wide to buy our trained subs, and they would often come back for more years later, when they wanted a younger one, or a playmate for the one they had already bonded with. Of course, some of the scumbags that bought from us weren't interested in bonding, and just wanted a warm body to use and fuck. It usually didn't matter to me either way - money was money and sex was a necessity it the carnal world. Simple as that.

  I never thought I would get tired of doing this, but nowadays, with every new shipment of pick-ups, I felt myself becoming more and more jaded to the whole business. It was becoming boring to me, and even a little depressing. In all of these years of training subs and scouting pick-ups, I still hadn't ever found a single one that I really wanted for myself. I felt like the some kind of forever alone matchmaker at this point, the kind they make chick flicks about. Always finding the perfect slave for other sadistic fuckers, but never one for myself. I'd sure had my fun with the young, nubile subs that passed through these doors, but none of those sessions were ever really that memorable anymore. It was like they all just bled into each other, one right after another, for years. I was becoming uninterested.

  Sometimes I thought about telling Hunter that I was done. Maybe it was time for me to find something else to do, maybe dust off some of my old business contacts and see what new ventures were out there. I had plenty of money stacked up. Hell, I could afford to just stop working if I wanted to - but I didn't. I was a workaholic by nature, and I wouldn't even know what to do with myself if I didn't have a project underway. But still, something needed to change. I was close to quitting last month, but then one of our newer associates who had only been with us for about five years instead of multiple decades like the rest of us, decided to get cute and run off with a large sum of cash that didn’t belong to him - in the ballpark of eight million dollars. It's not like the money mattered at all to Hunter, or anyone else. We all had plenty, but the principle of the matter called for us to kill him, and so now that that was done, Hunter was hesitant to bring anyone new in. He claimed we could operate just as we were - only that ended up meaning that I would be bearing the brunt of the extra hours and late nights. Like tonight. I was waiting on a pickup, and judging by how late it was getting, I was starting to worry that there had been some kind of problem. I wasn't in the mood for problems, not tonight.

  Yawning, I poured myself a scotch and plopped down in front of the fireplace of the main lounge while I waited on some kind of word. I was feeling exceedingly grumpy, but as the brown, bitter liquid warmed up my insides, my spirits lifted just a bit. I found myself contemplating how I would tell Hunter I was out - maybe I could just slowly cut back. I sighed, I knew that wouldn’t do He didn't trust anyone but me to field pick-ups anymore. I was the only one who was trustworthy enough to sift through the ones that wouldn't make us any money, and properly train the ones that would.

  I leaned my head back and stared at the flames dancing on the ceiling. Just as my eyes were starting to close, my phone buzzed in my pocked, snapping me back to attention. I finished the rest of my whiskey in one swill and answered the call.

  "We're here with a delivery in the back garage. Going to take them to the holding cell, meet you there in a few minutes."

  I stood up, throwing on a jacket as I made my way to the back hallway entrance that led out into the garage. I wanted to see them as they were being unloaded. I punched in the code next to the door and pushed it open just in time to see the side doors of the van being slid open by my driver.

  He and his assistant stepped inside the van and each emerged with two young men, looking droopy eyed and slow from the sedatives they had been given. I couldn't get a good look at them in the dim light of the garage, but one of them in particular seemed like a rare find. I'd bet that he must be the college student. Their arms were secured with twist ties as they stumbled out of the van. I stood in the corner with my arms folded across my chest.

  "Sorry we're late," my driver said. "It took longer than we thought at that damn football game. I still don't see why we could only take one from there."

  "The fact that you don't see why is the reason why you are a peon driver and I am a billionaire," I snapped. "Now take them inside into the light where I can get a better look at them. Now."

  "Yes, sir," the driver said quickly, knowing better than to annoy me.

  I went back inside and unlocked the holding cell, waiting inside for the boys to be marched in. Within seconds, the door opened again, and the four boys were being dragged into the small room. They were all too sedated to put up much of a struggle, but they were alert enough to be able to walk and take simple orders.

  "Line them up," I said. I could have easily helped, but I just didn't feel like it. When each of the four had been lined up against the back wall so that I could easily access their height and profile, they were each given a heavy belt around their waist, which attached to the wall behind them via a strong carbineer.

  I walked slowly down the line, inspecting the specimens that had been found tonight. I stopped in front of the first one, picking up his spindly arm. Track marks. A drug addict. "This," I snarled, waving the boy's arm, "is the best you could do? Talk about low hanging fruit. Where'd you find him, the actual gutter?" I glared at the two thugs that had brought these boys here. "Take him back, you should know I can't sell a drug addict. Nobody wants the trouble, including me." I looked at him again. "That's a shame, He's certainly cute." I patted his cheek and he looked at me with sunken eyes.

  Moving on, I looked the rest of the boys up and down. A jock wearing a sports jersey. I felt his meaty arms. Nice.

  A redneck boy wearing a flannel and a confederate flag belt buckle. I chuckled, nodding. "I look forward to whipping him with that belt of his. That should be fun to make him squeal as I redden his ass. Yeah, I'll take him."

  I stopped in front of the last boy. He hung his head, not looking at me. When I tilted his face up, he seemed more lucid than the rest of them. He wore thick black glasses and had sweet, full, puffy lips - the only part of his spindly body that had any cushion to it whatsoever. His eyes showed fear as he watched me say, "I think this one may be your best find yet. Congratulations, I'll take this one, too." I looked at him again. "This one will do nicely."

  3
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br />   Collin

  Bleary eyed, I blinked hard against the bright light that was shining on me from overhead. I must have fallen asleep, but I couldn't have been out for long. I felt groggy as I tried to remember what the hell had happened. The cute guy at the game. The parking lot. The van, then the shot. After that, I was just weak and drowsy. I was crouched in a corner, leaning against the wall I blinked again, and when the room still didn't fully come into focus, I realized that my glasses were gone. I felt my face to confirm. Gone.

  Fuck. I felt around the floor for them, but came up with nothing. I could hardly see without my glasses. I looked around the room, and recognized the other guys that were in the van with me. Everyone was sitting against the wall in this rather small room that was devoid of furnishings. There was a bucket of some sort in the corner, and I was shocked when I saw someone go over to it and begin to piss. There were more people in here than had been in the van - all male.

  I tried to will myself to think hard about what could be going on here. I'd been kidnapped, that much shirt with the logo from my college on it. Maybe he had been taken from the game, too. To my right was the same cute guy that I had followed to the parking lot. If he was the one who lured me into this mess, why was he in here too? Nothing was making any sense, and I was starting to panic. I climbed to my feet, only to find my knees felt wobbly. There was a sink next to the bucket, and I made my way over to it, parched. I turned it on and stuck my head under the faucet, drinking noisily. The water did wonders for clearing my head. When I'd had my fill, I turned it off and looked around the blurry room once again. Feeling my way along the wall, I found the door and pulled on it, knowing full well before I did that it likely wouldn't open. Of course, it didn't.