One of the most interesting events on the island resort was ..

One of the most interesting events on the island resort was dinner at the Bacchus dining room. The resort offered a wide variety of food and drinks on the menus of the various restaurants on the island for the guests to enjoy. Each one had its own theme and cuisine. However, the Bacchus dining room was the most popular. The tables were arranged around a center, revolving stage. At nine o’clock as the rich and powerful guests dine, the resort’s available handsome slaves come on to the stage, six at a time, in transparent thongs. They flex and pose for the rich older men as the stage revolves. If one of the guests saw something he liked he would point out the boy he wanted and the boy was brought to him. Xavier Pompeii was making his arounds at the table, making sure all the guests were happy. He came up to Mr. Copellie’s table and smiled. The rather large Italian mobster was eating ribs while Cory, a beautiful American jock, was laying over his lap. Pablo wore only a red thong that was buried beep between the smooth fat ass cheeks, and a pair of white tube socks. Copellie raised his greesely right hand, covered in barbecue sauce and delivered a slap on Cory’s flawless ass cheek. Cory kicked his muscular legs out at the impact. “Having a good time, Mr. Copellie,” Xavier asked as he noticed the large greasey handprint on Cory’s ass. “Ah Mr. Pompeii. You always outdo yourself. You never disappoint,” Copellie put down the rib he was eating. “Everytime I come here the food and the boys get better each time.” The Italian man pulled the thin material of Cory’s thong aside and pushed a messy, barbecue covered finger into the boy’s hole. Cory didn’t protest, but let out a low grunt as the fat finger stroked his insides. The American boy was a Texan baseball standout in college when an oil tycoon accused him of taking advantage of his daughter. The wealthy man had Cory captured and sold to the Cartel. “We aim to please, sir,” Xavier smiled. Cheers and applause erupted as a new round of slaves came upon the stage. “Enjoy yourself,” Xavier excused himself. “Oh, I will,” Copellie replied as he pushed his fat finger deeper into the jock’s hole. Xavier looked down at his phone and smiled as he read the text message. A new batch of slaves are on their way. Damien was having the time of his life on the all expense paid trip to Europe to take part in a bodybuilding exposition. He had already met several guys from South America, Europe, and the Middle East and they became fast friends. They all loved to party, bodybuilding, and women, not exactly in that order. When Damien thought the trip wouldn’t get any better, he and his new friends, Carlos, Giancarlo, and Ali met four hot babes at a nightclub in Rome and were invited on to a private yacht. It was the largest yacht any of the muscular men had ever been on. The music was loud as the group partied. Carlos, the hot mocha skin Brazilian, grabs one of the champagne bottles, shaking it up and spraying Giancarlo and Ali with it. In return the tattooed Italian Giancarlo sprayed another bottle back at him. The four men were laughing and cheering as the expensive champagne ran down their big, beefy bodies. The Arabian Al’s black spandex swim trunks were soaked and his uncut cock was visible through the thin material. Damien opened another bottle, letting the bubbly spilled down his huge pecs and washboard abs. He tilted his head back, lifting the bottle to his sexy lips and drank straight from the bottle. They were so high and waisted with no care in the world. The women were standing watching the four large, muscle bound studs. “They're going to fletch a lot of money,” one of the women whispered in Italian. “Especially the American, look at that ass. Those pervs on the island are going to love him,” Maria replied back. Maria got up and made her way over to Damien. Damien pulled the bottle from his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as she put her arm around his chisel, narrow waist and stroked his lower back. His ass was like a shelf as she rested her arm on it. She then led him away into the cabin. She couldn’t resist groping his big ass, as he draped his large left arm over her tiny shoulders. He took another swing from the bottle. Once alone in the cabin, Maria took the bottle from his hand and let him flop back on the bed. She then began to strip him, peeling off the swim truck down his massive thighs, Damien cock pop free. Maria was pleased as she gripped his fat cut cock in her small hands. She was fortunate to have got the most well endowed of the four friends. It was a shame, she thought as she wrapped her lips around the fat cock head. It would be Damien’s last bow job he would ever received and the last time any woman would get fucked by that prime American beef. She was determined to give him a great blow job, however, she knew the poor stud wouldn’t remember it for long. She ran her hands up the smooth competition ready thighs that were as big around as her waist. Maria moved her hands up to his chisel, steroid enhanced abs. She dug her long nails into the cobblestone abs. He moaned and put his hand over his face. His arms were as thick as his head. Unfortunately for Maria, the hot bodybuilder passed out cold within minutes. Damien was goggy when he was lifted out of the bed by two large muscular men in wetsuits. They dragged him naked out of the cabin by his arms, his cock still rock hard. He was unable to fight or resist as they brought him onto the deck of the yacht. The two armed men dropped him on to his knees besides Giancarlo, Carlos, and Ali. They were naked like Damien was, but their muscular arms were bound behind their wide backs. Dog-like collars were attached around each bodybuilder’s thick necks. Despite the situation and being barely able to focus, their cocks were hard and throbbing. Still unable to comprehend what was going on, Damien looked over at Giancarlo. The tall Italian bodybuilder’s long black hair hung loose to his mountainous shoulders, covering his face. On the other side of Giancarlo, knelt Ali. The muscular Arabian’s beard was wet with drool. Carlos tried to struggle to stand but his now useless muscles were no match against the wetsuit clad soldiers. There were about a dozen soldiers on the deck of the yacht. Each was as muscular as the four bodybuilders they now tower over. The wetsuits hugged and showed off every sculpted bugle and muscle. Damien looked over and saw the five women that invited them onboard. Even in his drugged state he knew they were not hostages or in danger. Maria was smiling at him. The sounds of footsteps on the ship’s deck turned Damien’s head. His blue eyes fell upon the white shoes and suit of Xavier Pompeii. “Well, my dears, you did very good,” Xavier addressed the women as he admired their catch. (To be continued and maybe revised)