Party Favor

"Shane, you aren't doing anything Friday night, are you?"

Shane looked up from his phone. It was none of his dad's business. "Why the fuck do you want to know?"

His dad narrowed his eyes. "Yes or no?"

Shane sighed. "No, I'm not going anything Friday night," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Why the fuck do you want to know?"

"Good, then you can go to Mr. Miller's party. I'll let him know you'll be happy to be there."

Shane got up from his bed. "Whoa, whoa, who's Mr. Miller? I'm not going to some dumb party." He followed his dad into the hallway.

"Mr. Miller is one of my pokerbuddies," his dad explained. He started to look a little uncomfortable. "Things got a little... out of hand last week. I had a great hand, Shane, and Miller kept raising the stakes. I didn't have enough cash on me so I said I'd bet whatever he wanted."

Shane shrugged. "So?"

"I lost the hand, and he asked if you could come to his party on Friday." His dad looked apologetic. "So, you better go and play nice, Shane. Just be glad he didn't ask for the car."

Shane rolled his eyes. It wasn't the first time his dad's poker addiction had gotten him in trouble, and it wasn't the first time Shane was involved in the solution. But it usually just ended up with him loaning his dad money Shane never got back. "Wait, is Miller the guy who came here like a month ago to pick you up? The tall guy?" Shane vaguely remembered him. He was his dad's age, late forties, but way taller and broader, and without the beer belly his dad had. Shane hadn't been able to put a finger on why, but Mr. Miller had creeped him out a little.

The guy had come into the living room while his dad grabbed his wallet, and he'd kept eyeing Shane, who had been lounging on the couch, messaging some friends to see if they wanted to hang out. He had kept asking Shane about how old he was, and if he played any sports, and with any other of his dad's friends, Shane would've put it down to them trying to make smalltalk and be friendly.

But then Mr. Miller had smiled and said 'good' when Shane had answered that he'd turned eighteen a month ago, and 'hmm, wonderful' when Shane had said he was on the track team. And then Mr. Miller had looked him up and down slowly, and his smile had grown. Shane had ignored him after that, focusing on his phone instead.

"Yes, that's him." His dad smiled. "He lives on the other side of town, in one of those mansions."

"Okay, so why the fuck does he want me to come to his party? Doesn't he have friends?" Shane asked.

"Shane, I don't know! All Mr. Miller asked was that you turn up and be on your best behaviour," his dad explained. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Remember, though, no drinking."

"Sure, Dad," Shane lied. If he was stuck at some rich weirdo's boring dumb party because of his dad, he sure as hell was gonna do some drinking if possible.

"And remember, son. Best behaviour. I'd like to keep... playing poker with Mr. Miller and his friends," his dad said.

"Whatever," Shane replied, and went back into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

*

"I won't have it," his mother yelled, that Friday at six. "He's not going there, George! You know what Miller's like!"

His dad wrung his hands. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Besides, I can't back out now. A bet's a bet."

"Yes, and your son is your son! You should never have agreed to it, George." She turned to Shane. "You're not actually going through with this?"

Shane shrugged. His dad had told him to wear his nicest button-down shirt and slacks, the one his mom had made him buy for special occasions. "It's a party, Mom. It'll probably just be really boring."

She stared at him. "Boring? Shane, it's Mr. Miller."

"Okay, so it won't be boring," Shane replied. How the fuck was he supposed to know that this Miller guy gave wild parties? "It's still just a party."

"Yes, a party at Mr. Miller's," she muttered, glaring at his dad.

What the hell was his mom worrying about? Yeah, Mr. Miller was clearly an asshole, but as far as Shane knew, all he did was play poker. Maybe that was what she was worried about? Shane following his dad's footsteps? "Mom, I promise I won't play poker or any other card games, all right?"

She sighed. "Well, I guess you're old enough..." She moved closer to hug him. "Please, Shane, be careful. If you want to leave, call us and we'll pick you up!"

His dad spluttered at that, and Shane nodded. "Sure, Mom."

*

His dad dropped him off at the front gate, waiting in the car while Shane pressed the buzzer next to the ornate gate. "Uhm," he said, "I'm Shane. I'm here for the party?"

The gate swung open, away from him, and his dad gave him a nervous smile and a wave before driving off.

What the hell were his parents so worried about? He'd been to parties before. He walked down the gravel path, and the gates swung closed behind him.

The mansion was huge, more of a villa, although Shane wasn't really sure what the difference was between a mansion and a villa. It had those high pillars in front of it, and two burly guys in suits at the front doors. Security? For some dumb party?

One of them looked at him, and stepped forward. "You're Shane?"

"Yeah," Shane replied, about to climb the steps of the porch.

The man laughed. "Nah, you have to go round the back. I'll escort you."

Shane frowned as he followed the security guard around the house. He glanced at the windows. The curtains were shut, but there was light coming from inside and he could hear music, talking and laughter. Going by the shadows, there were plenty of people in there. "Why do I have to go round the back?" he asked. "I'm a guest."

The security man laughed again, a low chuckle. "You're not one of the guests. You're one of the servants."

Ooh, well, that did make way more sense. Mr. Miller was probably too cheap to hire waiters for his party. "Huh, explains a lot," he replied, and followed the security man inside.

They were in a hallway, and the security man pointed at the door on the other end of it. "Down there's the kitchen," he told Shane. "They'll tell you what to do."

Shane nodded, and when the security guy left, he grabbed his phone and sent his mom a message to let her know he was at the party and that he was going to be a waiter, and that things were fine. He slid his phone back into his pocket, and walked into the kitchen.

It was about the size of his bedroom back home, and all gleaming marble countertops, with several people bustling around, cutting up ingredients, stirring pots on the stove, or putting tiny hors d'oeuvres on plates. It smelled pretty good.

"Shane? Great, you're here, I'm Karen." A tall woman in a black pantsuit walked up to him before he could grab one of the hors d'oeuvres. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she carried a clipboard. "Follow me so you can get changed."

Shane followed her from the kitchen into another hallway, and then into what had to be a guest room. It was sparsely decorated, with a kingsize bed against the opposite wall, a nightstand, and a chair in the corner.

Karen walked over to the nightstand, opening the top drawer and eyeing Shane. "Take your clothes off and leave them on the bed. All of them," she added, when Shane opened his mouth.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because Mr. Miller wants his servants to be clean before they put on their uniform for the night," she explained, gesturing at the drawer she had opened, indicating that the uniforms were kept in there. "I'll use your clothes to see what size you need." She pointed at a door to Shane's left. "There's the bathroom. You'll find washcloths and a towel in there, along with soap and a razor. Please make sure to shave properly, Mr. Miller wants his servants to look nice and smooth for his guests. Trust me, you don't want him to deal with you if you haven't." Then she smiled. "Unless you're into that, I guess."

Shane unbuttoned his shirt. Okay, so Mr. Miller was a neat freak and he'd have to wear some dumb waiter's uniform tonight. He hoped that Karen would give him a suit that fit. He shrugged off his shirt, dropping it on the bed.

He glanced over at her, and Karen gave him a nod. He felt a little self-conscious, being shirtless in front of her, and removed his shoes and socks. It wasn't like he was a virgin, but it was weird undressing in front of a woman in a bedroom without them about to have sex. Karen was pretty hot, in a stern older lady kind of way.

He pulled down his trousers, dropping them on top of his shirt.

"Boxers too," Karen told him, her expression neutral.

He hesitated. He wasn't embarrassed about his naked body. Sure, he wasn't as broad or muscular as the guys on the football team, but he was good-looking and had no trouble getting dates. It was still weird taking them off in front of a stranger, though. "Can't I take these off in the bathroom?" he asks.

"No. Boxers, Shane," she said, her tone stern. "Now."

He felt his cheeks redden, and then did as he was told, covering his groin with one hand while dropping his boxers on top of his trousers. He hurried into the bathroom, and locked the door behind him.

It was a pretty simple bathroom, with a shower stall and a sink with a mirror above it. There was also a toothbrush and toothpaste next to the sink, and Shane shook his head. Mr. Miller really was a massive neat freak.

He shaved his face first, using the shaving cream, making sure not to miss a spot. Then he took a shower, and washed himself thoroughly. He enjoyed the warm water cascading down his back. This showerhead was way better than the one they had at home, and he would've liked to have stayed under it a little longer.

Having finished washing, he wrapped one hand around his dick, tugging on it idly. He was feeling a little nervous and reluctant to head out there. If Mr. Miller was already a neat freak about having his waiters shower, how particular would he be about everything else? Shane had no experience serving drinks or hors d'oeuvres, and he didn't know anything about etiquette.

There was a loud knock on the door. "Shane, make it quick! Mr. Miller wants you to start serving as soon as possible!" Karen said, raising her voice.

"Be right out!" Shane yelled back, and turned off the water. He hadn't played with his dick long enough to make it hard, and he towelled himself dry, wrapping the towel around his waist before stepping back into the guest room.

"Ah, Shane." Mr. Miller was there, with another man next to him. Going by the earpiece he was wearing, the guy was another security guard. Mr. Miller smiled at Shane, looking him up and down again.

Shane looked around. Karen had gone, and so had the pile of clothes on the bed. Instead, a tiny piece of fabric lay there. "Er, hey?" he said, finally looking over at Mr Miller again.

Mr. Miller wore a well-tailored suit, emphasising his broad chest. His dark hair was combed back, a little shiny from whatever hair produced he had used, and when his smile widened, he revealed perfect, white teeth. "How wonderful of your dad to offer your services," he said. "Now, remove your towel, Shane."

"Yeah, it's, uhm, no problem, I guess," Shane said, but kept his hand on his towel. "I'd rather get changed in private?"

Mr. Miller shook his head. "No, Shane, first I want to make sure that you've obeyed my instructions." He nodded at his security guard, who stepped forward, grabbed Shane's wrist and tugged it away from the towel.

Before Shane could protest, the security guard had removed the towel and stepped back, rolling the towel up in a ball. Shane quickly covered his groin with his hand, stepping back. What the fuck was Mr. Miller playing at?

Mr. Miller shook his head, tutting in disappointment. "Oh dear, you didn't shave properly, did you?"

"I fucking well did!" Shane yelled back. He moved back towards the bathroom door. Maybe he could lock himself in there. It'd be better than being out here with this weirdo.

"Your face, perhaps, but certainly not the rest of you," he said, gesturing at Shane's chest and groin. "I'll have to do it myself now."

"Wait, what, no!" Shane yelled, but the security guard was already coming for him. He tried to move away, but the taller man grabbed him by the wrist, twisting it until Shane fell to his knees, yelping in pain. Before he knew it, a thick arm was around his neck, and both his hands were pulled behind his back. "Let me go!"

The security guard grunted, then told him to get up. When Shane didn't immediately comply, he pulled Shane up, and he struggled to breathe.

"Excellent. Follow me," Mr. Miller said, opening the door to the bathroom and stepping inside.

Shane tried to get out of the security guard's grip, but every time he struggled, the arm around his neck would tighten. He settled for biding his time.

He was forced down to his knees again in front of Mr. Miller, who was looking down at him, holding a razor and a can of shaving scream. He had taken off his jacket, and had pushed his shirtsleeves up to just below the elbow.

"Mm, you look just as pretty as I had hoped," Mr. Miller told him, kneeling down as well. "Athletic, but not too muscular." He glanced up as the security guard. "No offence."

"Why are you doing this?" Shane asked, as Mr. Miller dabbed some shaving cream on the patches of chesthair. He didn't have much hair anyway, why was Mr. Miller bothering?

"Because I want the boys at my parties to look nice and smooth for my friends, Shane," Mr. Miller told him, and began to shave him, the blade of the razor scraping across his chest. "Now, hold still. I don't want you to bleed."

Shane tried to breathe slowly as Mr. Miller shaved him. Every now and then, the man would run a damp washcloth over the freshly shaved skin, and smile at his own handiwork.

"If you meant, why am I doing all of this, rather than just the shaving, that's simply because I want to," Mr. Miller explained. "Oh, sure, there are escorts and rentboys, and believe me, I've hired those for tonight too. But boys like you are much more fun. Tell me, are you a virgin?"

Shane blushed. "No!" He had had sex with a girl before. Only one, but still.

"Have you ever been with a man?" Mr. Miller asked, then finished shaving his chest. "Spread your legs, Shane. I want to shave your groin too." He looked down at Shane's cock and balls. "Normally, I would simply get you waxed beforehand, but there was no time for that. Won't have time to do your ass properly either... still, we'll do what we can with the time we're given, won't we?"

Shane stared at him, then struggled to breathe as the security guard tightened his arm. He spread his thighs, wincing when he felt Mr. Miller's hand on his left thigh, sliding up.

"Now, I asked you a question, Shane. Have you ever been with a man?"

"N-no," Shane replied, his eyes wide as he watched Mr. Miller dab shaving cream alongside his dick and balls, covering his pubic hair. "Please, no, don't, just leave me alone!"

Mr. Miller chuckled as he gently pushed Shane's dick out of the way, and began to shave him. "I made a deal with your father, Shane. I'd been hoping he would get cocky after I saw you a month ago. Pretty boy like you..." He smiled at Shane for a moment. "Well, I had to get my hands on you before someone else did. All you have to do tonight is be at my party, and on your best, obedient behaviour. Everything'll be fine, and nothing bad will happen to your parents."

"You can't hurt them!" Shane shouted, and started struggling against the hold the security guard had on him.

Mr. Miller jerked his hand back, holding up the razor. "Careful, Shane," he said. "No sudden moves. I'd hate to cut you here." He tugged sharply on Shane's dick, making Shane grunt. "Stay still, and you won't get hurt. Your father owes me quite a lot of money. So, if you're a good boy tonight, I'll forgive him his debts and your parents get to keep their nice little car, and their nice little house."

Shane stared at him. How much money did his dad owe Mr. Miller? No wonder he'd been nervous. And his mom must've known something, or else why had she been so angry before he'd left? Did they know that Mr. Miller was planning on using him as a - a rentboy?

"So, Shane, will you be a good boy?" Mr. Miller asked him, stroking his dick gently. "Or do I need to contact the rest of my security team?"

Shane gulped. "I'll be good. I'll do whatever you want," he said. Then, as an afterthought. "You sicko."

Mr. Miller tutted. "Now, that won't do, Shane." He smiled. "Personally, I don't mind a bit of brattiness, but some of my friends won't tolerate it." He went back to shaving Shane, gently fondling his dick and balls as he removed more and more of Shane's pubic hair. "They know about your, ah, situation, of course. Some of them might be gentler because of it. Some definitely won't be."

"How many friends are we talking here?" Shane asked, needing to have an idea of what he was in for.

"There're about twenty men here tonight," Mr. Miller replied. "And I've hired four boys to keep them happy." He grinned at Shane. "Do the maths, boy."

The maths didn't help. Sure, it'd mean there were five men for each rentboy, but somehow, Shane didn't think the men would stick to only rentboy for sex. But surely, not all twenty men would want to - to have sex with him?

Mr. Miller ran the damp washcloth over his cock, rubbing it over his balls, then got up. "There. Get in the shower, Shane, and wash it all off. You're not perfectly smooth, but that's the best I can do right now." He nodded at his security guard. "Make sure he's quick."

Finally, the security guard stepped back while Mr. Miller left the bathroom. Shane got to his feet, his legs trembling, and he stumbled into the shower. He turned his back on the security guard, feeling the man's eyes bore into his back as he washed himself. More dark hairs washed down the drain, and he ran his fingers over his smooth chest, and his smooth balls. It felt weird. His dick looked weird. Longer, yes, but that wasn't what he wanted.

He stepped out of the shower, and took a towel from the security guard. He kept it front of him as he went back into the guest room, where Mr. Miller was waiting with a smile on his face. He was holding something in his hand.

Shane might not be into men, but he was into porn and knew where to find it online. He knew exactly what Mr. Miller was holding, and he shook his head. "No, not a fucking buttplug!"

Mr. Miller tapped his fingers on the broad end, the end that was supposed to stay outside Shane's ass. "Oh, now, Shane, you promised you'd be good. Besides, it's only a small plug."

Shane shook his head. It was one inch wide, and about three inches long, with a couple of bumps. He didn't care if it was small, he didn't want it up his ass. "No fucking way. I'll do something else."

"That's not an option, Shane. I want you to wear this buttplug, so you will." He nodded at his security guard, but Shane held up his hand.

Everything was better than being wrestled down again.

"Okay, fine. I'll do it. Just - just give me the damn buttplug," he replied, his cheeks flushing.

"Oh no, Shane. I can't let you do that. You've got no experience. Best to let me do it. Why don't you get down on all fours?"

Shane stared at him, but Mr. Miller looked right back, smiling.

"Fine," Shane said, and got down to his knees, then took a deep breath and got down on all fours. He glanced up at Mr. Miller, whose smile had widened.

"Beautiful," he murmured, and moved around Shane. He pulled a tube from his pocket and drizzled some lube onto the tip of the plug. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it once you get used to it, Shane."

Shane grit his teeth as he felt fingers spread his ass cheeks, then winced as he felt cold lube drip down onto his asshole.

Mr. Miller used his fingers to spread the lube around, then pressed the tip of the buttplug against his asshole. "Relax, Shane. It'll all go easier if you do."