It was with some smugness that Teng Lao, head man of the expanded Shrliao tong, had come to the venerable house hanging on a cliff overlooking Hong Kong harbor to be received by no less than the renowned courtesan Shao Mei. The house was known to cater to the particular fetish of Teng Lao, and the thuggish criminal chief had been here many times--but never before had he been received by Shao Mei. He presumed it had something to do with his criminal syndicate’s--tong’s--takeover of new territory many miles to the north.
In this he was right, but not for the reasons he thought. He wasn’t being received by the house owner Shao Mei rather than being accorded less of a courtesan because of his more exalted personal status in the world of the underworld--the assumption that his yang--his cock--was that much bigger and more desirable now, but because the tong, and thus the ability to reach out and touch someone in the new territory of control he had acquired, was in Shanghai.
Shao Mei, beautiful and delicate in billowing silk robes, received him on an open platform hanging out over the city of Hong Kong. The courtesan’s private chamber, dominated by a huge four-poster bed covered with silk pillows in many vibrant shades, was just beyond the platform.
“You do me honor,” Teng Lao said, bowing to the courtesan as he was ushered out onto the platform. He was a big bruiser of a thug and looked somewhat awkward bowing to the diminutive beauty, but he did the deference to the renowned prostitute.
“I will do you more than honor if you are able to help me,” Shao Mei said.
“Always straight to the point. That is your way, I’m told,” Teng Lao said, with a low laugh.
“Use of the point is the point of coming to my house, is it not?” Shao Mei replied.
“It is,” Teng Lao said, “And am I to suppose that my enhanced standing among tong lords is the reason I have been allowed into your presence?” he asked. “Curious about whether an expansion of territory expands the point as well?”
“I have been told that your cock needs no expansion, Teng Lao--that it is a killer point the way it is. But, yes, your acquisition of the Shanghai tong is the reason I wanted to see you. And if you can do me a favor there, you can bury your point here to your heart’s content.”
Impressed and aroused, Teng Lao said, “By all means, if I can do you a favor in Shanghai, I will do so. And I will be pleased to show you what I can make of a real man’s point. Who in Shanghai do you wish me to kill?”
He had been jesting, but Shao Mei shot back with, “I wish for a lawyer there, Wang Bao, to die a painful death. And I wish for someone who has been special to me to have his rights in Shanghai reinstated.”
“You are serious,” Teng Lao said with surprise. And indeed the look Shao Mei leveled at him indicated that the courtesan was quiet serious.
“I have here a birth certificate, for a young man, half English and half Chinese--someone very close to me. His name is Ryan Hathaway. This lawyer, Wang Bao, stole his inheritance some four years ago, when he was fourteen, when his parents were lost in a shipwreck on the Yangtze. This evil Wang Bao snake stole much more than that from the boy. I wish for someone with the strength and power to do it in Shanghai to put this lawyer down and restore the boy to his fortune.”
“Perhaps you should give me more of the details of the case,” Teng Lao said. “But, yes, for what you offer me I will see that the dog is put down. First, though, I’ve heard, of course, but my enthusiasm for carrying out this request would be enhanced by--”
“Come here. Sit by me.”
When Teng Lao went and sat next to Shao Mei, the courtesan took his hand and placed it inside the courtesan’s silken robe folds. Teng Lao sucked in his breath to find that Shao Mei was naked inside the robe. His hand pulled the sides of the robe apart and, as their mouths met, his hand glided to breasts and then down over belly, and to the treasure of treasures.
He was assured. It was just as he had been informed.
Shao Mei sighed for him, holding his hand there but murmuring, “I want you to tie me up on the bed and take it from me like the brute we both know you are.”
Teng Lao went hard as a rock.
The family’s Chinese lawyer, Wang Bao, fucked fourteen-year-old Ryan on the proverbial bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire in an ornate fireplace in his parents’ European-style mansion in the hills above the Shanghai Bund, where his father had managed an export house. He’d been summoned home for a family visit from his boys’ school studies at Rugby in Warwickshire, England, by his parents who, before the boy arrived, had drowned in the tragic boating accident on the Yangtze River, leaving him an only child, virtually unknown to his father’s family in England.
Ryan, a comely lad, who had inherited the best of the gene pool from his two heritages, and thus was perfectly proportioned, handsome and sultry of face, and winsome of sunny disposition and smiles, was an orphan at fourteen. He was a mixed-race boy, whose father had been English and mother Chinese. Ryan’s mother had been a famous courtesan in Shanghai, introduced to his father by the lawyer, Wang Bao. His father had been ostracized by both his family back in England and by his friends in Shanghai for marrying a prostitute. Ryan had been born before they got married and largely sheltered from the worlds of both Shanghai and England, few knowing he even existed.
The couple seemed to have been happy with or without family and friends, but when it was time for Ryan’s schooling, his father had wanted to get him away from all negative criticism, and thus Ryan had spent most of his life in boarding schools without notification to his father’s family that he was in England, indeed that he was a member of the family at all. Thus, when his parents died, Ryan was alone and unprotected in the world--and on the other side of the world from the one he’d know in his short life--in China, where he had been beckoned to visit his parents but arrived mere weeks after they had died, not having been buried as the Yangtze had not given their bodies up.
The family’s Chinese lawyer, Wang Bao, had met Ryan at the boat, had told him of his new status as an orphan who, to the surprise of many in Shanghai, was the heir to a fortune. The lawyer took Ryan home to the European-style mansion in the hills above Shanghai. Wang Bao had been the one who had always arranged Ryan’s schools and travels and had been in contact with him off and on throughout the boy’s fourteen years. He had watched Ryan grow into being handsome and sexually attractive to men, like Wang Bao, who had a fetish for boys on the cusp of turning into men. Ryan had come under the lawyer’s complete control at a point in which the boy was the most arousing to Wang Bao’s sexual fetishes.
Wang Bao could not resist the temptation and opportunity of having a ripe, young virgin drop off the tree and into his lap. And he didn’t resist it. In the weeks between Ryan’s parents’ death and the boy’s arrival in Shanghai by ship, Wang Bao redid the family’s financial affairs to his own advantage and replaced all of the servants in the mansion in the hills overlooking Shanghai. When Ryan was taken “home,” all of the servants were Wang Bao’s creatures.
The evening Ryan arrived in Shanghai, taking advantage of the grieving boy, with the help of his men servants, the fifty-year-old Wang Bao hogtied the whimpering and sobbing fourteen-year-old Ryan, in shock from confusion and grief, on the rug in front of the fireplace. A red silk scarf made of strong Shanghai silk was run behind Ryan’s neck, binding his wrists on either side of his neck and continuing down and binding his ankles, immobilizing his movement. A red silk pillow was placed under the small of the boy’s back, presenting his virginal hole for Wang Bao’s cock. His mouth was initially gagged with a red silk scarf, but this later was taken away so that Wang Bao could hear the cries, and, subsequently, sobs, whimpers, and moans of the boy’s first taking.
The taking of a boy’s virginity was a ceremonial pleasure Wang Bao liked to indulge in, so he took his time with Ryan in a series of debauchings and observed the rituals that many times before had sent him to the heights of arousal while engaging in his fetish.
Wang Bao took the boy swiftly the first time, once the laborious chore of getting inside him was accomplished, barebacking the lad and filling his passage with cum. Then he rose and sat in a wing chair by the fireplace, drinking Ryan’s father’s best brandy, while watching and leering at Ryan, lying, still bound on his side, panting and crying, the gag back in place because Wang Bao didn’t want to hear what Ryan had to say. Wang Bao had hated Ryan’s father, who had impregnated Wang Bao’s most useful courtesan in his side business of running a Shanghai brothel, a pregnancy that had resulted in Ryan and in the woman’s leaving Wang Bao’s service.
This ritual with the young, vulnerable, handsome boy wasn’t all because Wang Bao had a fetish for fucking the virginity out of boys. It also was revenge for a moldering resentment Wang Bao had had for Ryan’s parents.
His brandy finished, Wang Bao came back to the boy on the rug in front of the fire. He gently raised Ryan, still trussed up in red silk to his knees, with his cheek pressed to the rug. The lawyer mounted the boy’s hips, slid his cock inside the boy’s anal channel, which was still tight after the first fucking and only reluctantly opened to him, as Ryan cried and panted hard, and he fucked Ryan again there, more slowly than in the first taking.
Ryan moaned at the feel of the cock in his channel, but, to his shame, he also was beginning to enjoy the fuck, having prior fantasies of his fulfilled, albeit he had imagined younger, more muscular lovers. The boy’s channel muscles were revealing their own interests, rippling over the lawyer’s cock, gripping it and releasing it, and making Wang Bao moan as loudly as Ryan was.