Pretty Boy Pleasure

Chapter 3: IAN

CHAPTER 3

IAN'S P.O.V

"Alright, everyone here? Good... Now," My dad pointed at my friend group, choosing to single out each member with each word, "Listen, listen, listen, listen!" On the last 'listen' his eyes finally fell on me, making sure I was, in fact, listening, "You guys are on camera 24/7 in this place. Every single inch of this mansion has a camera. That's every bedroom, closet, and dark little hallway. And I know what you're thinking, 'but Mr. Ian's dad, you can't put cameras in the restroom! That's illegal!' You got me there, but there's cameras facing every door so we'll know who goes in and out. The only room without cameras is the one you're standing in right now, but this will be our production room for the next few months. Which means it won't ever be empty enough for you to sneak in here and get your dick wet."

"Dad-"

"No Ian! Listen, you want me to protect you and your friends. I've been very understanding. But what ends up on film is what ends up on film. Do you guys understand?" My dad looked at each one of our faces, clearly not satisfied with what he saw. "That means no one fucks a contestant! No handies, no blow jobs, no dry humping, no grab ass! The camera will see it and if a contestant mentions it, then it will be broadcasted."

"We get it." I groaned.

"We have hand selected ten of the hottest pieces of ass we could find." My dad clarified, now addressing the whole room. The entire production crew had crammed in, ready for my dads pep talk... or more likely, a reaming. "I'm talking about five men and five women whose head shots could make you hard, or wet, respectively. No one is to fuck them. We're pumping them full of booze and bud, which means they are going to be making a fool of themselves trying to get on Ian's dick first. No one touches them, but Ian. And Ian, try not to touch them if you don't want it in the final cut. We're trying to drop this 'sex addicted pervert' narrative. That means rejecting them and then getting the hell out of dodge before your sex addicted perversion shows. If you fuck someone, it better damn be the one you pick for the finale."

"I get it." I grumbled. "What's this show called anyway? Blue balls?"

"Funny. Would you prefer we call it the pretty boy pleasure palace? Why don't I get on the horn with pornhub and see if they'd like to buy the rights? No? Then shut it." My dad clapped his hands, the sound ending our disagreement. "Now everyone, the ten prospective partners get here in about two hours. We've had them locked up in cramped hotel rooms about thirty minutes away. I have P.A.'s there stoking the fire with alcohol and gossip. When they arrive, they're gonna be kept in one room for holding. Each person will come out and meet Ian and his friends. They have about two minutes to make an impression before the next person comes out. I want this schedule kept tight. Once they're away from Ian, I want them directed into one of our confessional closets to debrief. Then we direct everyone into the dining room for dinner. Let me make this very, very clear. I don't want a sober prospect there. They need to all be hammered. Ian and friends, not a drop of alcohol. You're still underage and it will look bad. Do you hear me? As sober as an alcoholic on his twelfth step, right before the thirteenth step where they go back to drinking."

"Yes, sir." I nodded, offering him a reassuring smile.

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Cough. Cough. Cough. Cough.

"Nat, shut up!." I whisper screamed, opening the restroom window a crack to blow smoke out. "They're going to catch us."

"I've never- cough- s-smok- cough- smoked before." Nat croaked out in between coughs. I rolled my eyes, blowing smoke out of the window again before turning to hand Mickey the joint. He grabbed it, silent as always, and took a huge pull. He held it for a moment before leaning over me to exhale out the window, without so much as a watery eye. The guy was made of stone.