Gaspar's Country Club is exclusive, to be sure. The annual fee for membership, most people don't make in a year. The golf course is pristine, the dining facility top flight, and the grounds are gorgeous and exquisitely maintained. If I'm not mistaken, it employs nearly one hundred and fifty workers. I'm a golfer, and I bring guests and clients there frequently. They all leave impressed. But when I'm not busy with my game, which, by the way, is quite good, or working a deal, I like to head down the "utility road" to the other part of Gaspar's, a club within a club. Membership there is by invitation only, and prospective members are rigorously vetted. One would be correct to call it a secret place. The ones who belong call it the Manclub.
My apologies. I really ought to introduce myself. I am Victor Pennington. I own a large, international construction company. Most of the projects I take on are immense and complex, requiring the kind of machinery that few entities can afford. Projects include tunnels - one recently bored through a mountainside in the Pyrenees - underground transit, some mining, and high-rises buildings. There are other large companies out there, but I am competitive by nature, and often get the deals I want.
The club, the other club, is on a one hundred acre parcel situated a mile away from the mani complex of buildings. One travels there by golf cart form Gaspar's proper. It, too, is well-maintained, though more rustic. Why is it a secret, you may wonder. Well, it is an oasis, at least I think of it that way, a respite away from the stress and tumult of the business world.
It is all male. The one distinction, and an important one, is that there are those who are members, and those who are stabled there. You may catch the drift of this by now. Yes, the ones residing there permanently are the slaves of members. There is one slaveboy for each member. Their accommodations are simple, but adequate. They live in two dormitories at the edge of the property. There is a large, equipped kitchen in one of them, and good, healthful food is always available.
Now, I have a family, and a happy home life. But there is something that I can satisfy at Manclub that can't be appeased in a 'normal' home environment.
Helen is my wife and de facto business partner. She's as sharp as any man who ever put on a shirt and tie. My daughter, Candace, is the 'baby' of the family, all of sixteen years old, pretty, smart, and outgoing. Tod is my son. He's tall, dark-haired, brown-eyed, naturally athletic. He's studious, and at or near the top of his class at all times. He's got my ambition and drive, but he tends to fall into moods of doubt, turning inward, and keeping things to himself. He's eighteen. Sometimes his moods concern me.
I acquired my slave from an agent, of sorts, who discretely trades in these matters. Nearly all Manclub members have gone through him. His office is in Chicago. I flew there one Saturday last year, and we looked over the profiles and photos of prospective boys. It's necessary to go to Chicago to do this as no information is ever sent out. Not by email, and never anything on paper.
I'll call the agent Bill. I, frankly, don't know his true name. Bill keeps a small office in a building downtown. The signage on the door of the office states simply: Apex Consultancy.
We spent the morning poring over files, and I was eventually getting drawn to one in particular. A slim, blonde, willowy lad, twenty years old, pale skin, no body hair, full red lips. I liked his looks. His name is Jason_____. He's from a small town in Iowa, and has some college. He dropped out in his junior year.
Each of the boys is interviewed at length by Bill and, so, there was a detailed personality profile included in the file.
Jason was described as soft-spoken and of a delicate nature. He tended towards reading books for pleasure, eschewing movies, nightlife, and the like. As with all the slaves, he is a homosexual. This is not the only requisite. They must also exhibit strong tendencies to serving a straight man. In my discussions with Bill, we talked about the possible root causes of this orientation. In large part, so it seems, it stems from a need for a strong masculine presence in the boys' lives; a father figure. Someone they could look up to and find comfort in. Apparently, many of the boys had no father at home, or the father was weak or abusive. This made sense to me.
In any case, Jason possessed an overwhelming need for a strong straight man in his life.
Now, as you may guess, the majority of straight men are perfectly happy with their wives and families, or their girlfriends. Therefore, without Bill's services, the man and the boy might never meet. Happily, Jason and I turned out to be quite compatible.
In Bill's office, I read over Jason's 'statement of intention' ; something each slave candidate must compose. For my part, I wanted a boy who was generally attentive to my needs, consummately obedient, and highly motivated to please me sexually.
