True, sex with bar contacts was much riskier than sex at baths or at a club but the anticipation and excitement were much greater, too. That was the lure. New places and faces, different scenes and the unknown were far more stimulating than the same places, many of the same people, and the well known. He felt he could read people pretty well, too, and that helped him avoid dangerous situations. He was most always right. He’d had few bad experiences bar cruising but there had been nothing serious. Rougher topping that left him bruised or sore had been the worst. He’d been quite scared once or twice too, but, the threats hadn’t been real: it turned out they’d just been part of the scene. Besides, the bar route offered the best of both worlds: if he left without being picked up there, he could always go to a bath or club. As he said to himself, “I’m sure to score even if I strike out.”

Tonight he’d picked “The Cage.” It was in an industrial section of the city, on the edge of a black neighborhood, and several miles from where he lived. He was familiar with the area but it had been years since he’d been there. Recently he’d heard that The Cage was a Black on White bar that catered to Black tops and White bottoms. The owner screened his clientele to get a mix of doms and subs who were looking to be dominated and went there hoping to be topped. He’d heard a scary report about The Cage being an s/m bar but he’d also been told that it catered to every taste. As a young, White pretty boy he figured he’d have his choice from several Black bulls who’d want to mount him. In the end, curiosity and the love of excitement swayed his thinking. He decided to go.

A trip to The Cage would satisfy his favorite masturbation fantasy, too. Being dominated, abused some, and fucked by two or three husky Blacks with big cocks was what got him aroused. The stronger, the hornier, and the blacker he could make these studs in his mind’s eye, the more he could arouse himself. The only reason he hadn’t lived out this fantasy before this was because he was a little bit scared of going through with it. Blacks were mostly foreign to him. There were few at the clubs, baths, and bar he frequented. He was wary of them, too, thinking that many probably hated “Whitey.” For those reasons he wasn’t sure what he’d be getting himself into. That uncertainty and caution had kept him away from The Cage. But with time his caution eroded. The excitement of a scene he wanted to play out, the challenge and his curiosity, convinced him that he could pull it off. So tonight it was “The Cage.”

To increase his excitement and to heighten the challenge, he’d limited his options. First, he’d taken a bus and had only taken enough pocket money for drinks. Bus tokens for his return fare he’d sewn into his jeans’ waistband. Then he timed his arrival at The Cage for about eleven. As the busses quit running at one a.m., that meant he was putting pressure on himself to score quickly and, if it worked out, to spend the night somewhere. He could bus home the next day.

The bus took him to a very busy street corner on a well lighted main drag two blocks away from The Crib. From the bus stop it was a short walk to the bar. But it was a scary walk and twice he almost turned around and went home. Near the end of the first block a menacing bum in a doorway came out onto the sidewalk and accosted him. The bum demanded money. When he ignored the derelict, the fellow followed him to the end of the block screaming and threatening. That noise brought more trouble. From the shadows of the alley in the middle of the next block three sinister looking black punks emerged just as he passed. In an instant they surrounded and confronted him. All had knives in their hands. The shock of the attack practically paralyzed him. Miraculously and at the same time, a police car drove around the corner. Seeing cops, the punks scattered. The officer on the passenger side, a Black, rolled down his window. As the punks ran one tripped and lost his knife but all got away before the two Black officers could get out of the car. He picked up and put the knife, a switchblade, in his jeans pocket.

“You O.K?” one of the officers asked.

“Yah,’ he answered. “Thanks.”

He didn’t tell the officers he’d been scared shitless and probably would have crapped his pants had he not given himself an enema before he left.

The police car paced him until he got to the corner. As he crossed the street, one Black officer, seeing where he was going, rolled down his window and said, “Have a fucking good time.” Then the car sped away.

The Cage was in an old brick three storey building. The downstairs windows were barred and painted black. There was a black double front door and small red neon sign over it that read, “The Cage.” No other nearby business was open and except for three or four other men standing under a street light a block away or farther, he couldn’t see anyone else.

When he opened the front door there was a short narrow hallway with a Black man in a booth behind a glassed-in counter on the left. The man was shirtless and heavily tattooed.

“What ya doin heea boy?” the man said. “Dis a brothers’ place. We don’t want no white boys in heea,” and he paused, then continued with a smirk, “unless they’ve got some white ass fo some big black cock. Ya understand?”

He nodded. The Black man motioned him toward the inner door and unlocked it with a buzz. He went through. Immediately in front of the door were two entries, each of which were heavily curtained. A small sign over the one on the right read, “Bar.” Beyond it he could hear rap music and see some light. The other entrance was dark and wasn’t marked. He went through the right door which opened on a large, smoky, and dimly lit room.

The Cage seemed to get its name from a big steel rod cage against the far corner wall and behind a half circle bar. The cage was a cube about eight feet on a side. Its base was slightly above the top of the bar. In the cage he could see a White blonde boy illuminated by a spotlight which was one of the few lights in the room. The blonde boy, who was nude and blindfolded, was strung up to the ceiling by his wrists. His head hung and he sagged listlessly. A leathered Black man was just leaving the cage. From the red stripes on the boy’s legs, back, and chest, he could tell the boy had been whipped. Sitting around the bar were six Blacks. All were wearing jeans or leathers. By one was a dark haired white boy. He was kneeling and had a collar around his neck. A leash went from the collar to the Black’s belt. Like the boy in the cage, the dark haired boy was nude and blindfolded.

As he stood in the corner entry opposite the cage, he could see booths angling to his right and left along the walls. Because of the booths high sides he couldn’t tell how many there were. To his right and in front of the nearest booth he could see another smaller steel rod cage. It was on wheels. This one was just big enough for a man. Another nude white was in it. He was on his back with his hips a few inches higher than his head. His arms and legs were strapped to the bars while his blindfolded head stuck out one end of the cage. His cock was sheathed and a tube stretched from it to his mouth. Another tube went up from his mouth to a funnel at the top of the cage.

Before he could look around more or walk further into the room, a big Black man came up through the curtained door behind him.

“Hey boy, why ya be lookin around? White boys in The Cage keep da eyes on Black cock all da time and they don’t look at nothin else,” he said roughly, “Or they’re blindfolded or hooded. Now what’s it goin be cocksucker?”

The man startled him and it had been hard to hear everything he said because of the music. As he turned, a menacing face, a bare chest, a leather vest, a big cock, leather chaps, and boots were what he saw. All were black. Everything he heard suddenly registered and he immediately looked down at the man’s cock.

“Ova der asshole, “ the Black said and motioned him toward the line of booths in the direction of the portable cage.

Involuntarily he said, “Yes sir,” and started walking. The Black was behind him holding his neck firmly.

They stopped just past the wheeled cage where the Black turned him to face two booths. One had two men in it; in the other there were three. Under the table in one there was a clothed White male on his knees giving head to one of the Blacks.

“Anyone want ta fuck pussy lips?” his captor asked, looking at the booths.

The Blacks laughed but no one said anything.

“Ain’t nobody up heea wants yo ass and nobody wants yo face,” the man told him. “If ya want some Black cock boy it’s goin ta gots ta be downstairs.”

Somehow that mention of Black cock, what he had come for, was a relief to him and he suddenly began to calm down now after all the surprises. The almost mugging, the whipped White man in the cage, and the caged toilet boy had really unnerved him but he instantly felt better.

“Yes, sir,” he said and lowered his head.

While he stared at the floor in front of him, the Black dom pushed him toward a door at the side of the room. It opened onto a wooden landing and a wooden stairway that led straight down to a basement that was lit only by the light from the open door and the faint street light coming through the painted, barred windows. There was a rough stone wall on the right and a cluttered storage area on the left. Tingling with anticipation, he started down the stairs with the Black right behind him. When the door closed behind them, it was mostly dark. Halfway down he heard a scurrying noise underneath the stairs and stopped.

“Rats,” the Black said, “Keep going.”

Twenty-five or thirty feet beyond the bottom of the steps was a steel door.

“Straight ahead,” the Black said.

The Black opened the door with a key, pushed him inside, and turned on the red ceiling light bulb. In the strange light he could see a sling in the left corner, a padded bench, three well used armchairs, and a deal table. The room looked like it had never been cleaned. There was trash here and there, the floor was dusty where people hadn’t walked, and the place had an air of staleness about it. Rather than repel or frighten him, the shabby surroundings only heightened his excitement.

“Strip, cocksucker. I want ta see yo white ass.” the Black ordered.

While he was quickly undressing, two other Blacks came into the room. Both were thinner and younger the one in leather. Both, too, started taking off their clothes when he did.

When he finished undressing, the big Black kicked his clothes aside and pushed him back toward the sling.

“Lie down, asshole,” was the order.

He did. His arms grasped two straps and he put his legs on the outside of the other two. When he was in a receptive position, one Black, stroking his stiff cock, approached him eagerly. At the same time the other young Black, who’d been leaning against a wall, looked down at his clothes. When the leathered Black had kicked them aside, the switchblade knife he’d picked up on the street had fallen out of his pants’ pocket.

“Ya got muh knife! He took muh knife!” the young Black screamed.

This one picked up the knife, snapped it open, and quickly moved toward him.

“Ya fucker, I be goin ta cut ya,” he screamed poking the knife at his face. “Ya took muh knife.”

With this sudden change he was wide-eyed with fright. He started to say, “No, No,” but no one was listening and everything was happening too fast. The leathered Black pushed him back on the sling and held both his wrists. At a nod, the young Black who didn’t have the knife grabbed some straps. In an instant both his wrists and his ankles were tied to the ropes that held the sling to the ceiling and a gag was put in his mouth.

“What ya want ta do?” the leathered Black challenged the younger one with the knife. Then before the other one could answer, the first said, “Get da cage.”

The younger one obeyed and in a minute he was back with a wire cage that held three brown rats.

“Dey hungry,” he said, holding up the cage where the rats were moving, sniffing, and clawing.

While that Black looked at the rats and talked to them, the leathered Black got a short rope, wrapped it around his balls, and cinched the rope tight. He moaned in pain through the gag.

Next the wooden table was pushed over between his legs and the cage was propped up on the table. The wire touched his balls and inner thighs. His heart was beating frantically and he was sweating. The end of the cord cinching his balls was tied to a stick and the cord was pushed through the bottom of a circular feeding hole on the side of the cage nearest him and out the far side. When the cord was pulled tight, his ball sack was flat against the side of the cage.

“Time fo dinner,” one Black said and pulled the feeding hole door open.