You’d think it wouldn’t be possible to go from college gymnast to naked sex slave in the tropics in just a few weeks. It happened. At that moment, I was at the mercy of one of the resort’s guests, Mr. Dawson, who required only that I tell him the tale from the start.

“So you lost your scholarship because of steroids?” Mr. Dawson pumped a small barbell while gazing upon my nude body as I lay in his bed. He was tall, dark-haired, and muscular, by far the best-looking guest on the island. A soft breeze blew through the bungalow. The sound of drums echoed in the distance. There were no natives on Palmyra Atoll, but the owners of the resort occasionally piped in music to make the island seem more exotic.

“I never took steroids, but they found some in my urine. I don’t understand what happened. When I saw the job at the escort service, I thought I’d be making sure female students arrived safely at their dorms when they’d been studying late.”

“But when you found it was about giving up your ass to rich men, you didn’t quit.” Mr. Dawson smiled to show he didn’t judge me.

“Not exactly.”

“So how did George Worth and Fred Gentry entice you to work at their new resort?”

“They saved me. My parents wouldn’t talk to me after they found out I’d been arrested for prostitution. Robbins University kicked me out. Without Mr. Worth and Mr. Gentry, I’d have been homeless.”

Mr. Dawson offered a cynical smile. “Two old men rescuing a hot young pup. How benevolent. Tell me, what exactly is your job description?”

“I’m a designated bottom. It’s like those straight sex resorts they have in the Caribbean. Hedonism or whatever. I’m supposed to let any guest have my mouth or ass.”

“Let me tell you, Coulter, there are no designated slaves at those clubs.” Mr. Dawson shook his head as he wiped sweat from his brow. “I can’t fathom why you let Worth and Gentry do this.”

“Mr. Gentry is sweet to me. And it’s been mostly fun. Although the rules keep changing.”

“Did the other guys who had to be naked all the time quit?”

“I’m the only one that has to be completely nude all the time. Apparently that wasn’t in their contracts. But they were designated bottoms, too. The little guy from Thailand said he wasn’t getting paid enough, and I heard that string bean from Canada couldn’t handle the hot weather.

“So now, halfway between Hawaii and Samoa, you’re the only bottom for a thousand miles.”

“What? Nah, some of the guests or workers must submit at least once in a while.”

“Don’t think so. There are about seventy men on this island including the twenty guests. And from what I can tell they’re all after your ass.”

The thought almost made me come, and I hadn’t even been touching myself. I wasn’t allowed. “Really? I can’t be the only one. You’re just trying to turn me on.”

“Well, I can’t be sure. But it does seem like you’re the only party people care to attend.”

“Damn.” My chest moved with rapid breaths. “I guess seventy men are going to be making me sore until they get some other subs on staff.” I closed my eyes and felt myself grin from ear to ear. Mr. Gentry had been right. After you get used to being fucked, the more sex you have, the more sex you want until you live for it.

The timer on my collar beeped.

“Our half hour is up,” I said. “You’re sure you don’t even want to kiss me?”

“Yeah, I want to.” Mr. Dawson bit his lip and gave me a hungry stare. “But I don’t kiss guys who have to kiss me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Reserve me for the mid-afternoon. My ass will need a break around then.” It hurt that Mr. Dawson resisted me even though it seemed like he found me attractive. I wished we had at least kissed.

I hurried up the dirt path from the beachside bungalows to the thatch-roofed main house for my next assignment. In the high heat, few wore much more than shorts or an easily removable sarong, but as usual, I didn’t see anyone nude. I had thought nudity would be common at gay resorts, but here it felt more like a status reserved for me.

As soon as I reached the cool interior of the main house, I saw Mr. Worth sitting in his wicker chair wearing a smoking jacket. He resembled Hugh Hefner except for an unruly mane of white hair and bushy mustache. He reached out for me and began fondling my ass.