Chapter 5: Damian, Stanton Reach, Malaya

Only Fahmeed gave me any relief. And even that didn’t take me any farther than Antonio had and not as far as Mr. Thorpe and the older boys at school had—at least initially. His eyes had promised me he would give me everything—take me all the way—but he was holding back. I could not fathom what the problem was.

The task that had been set for me initially was to whitewash the house. This was no small chore, and it was backbreaking work for one who had been coddled by my parents and in an English boys’ school as I had been. No European could work outside in Malaya past the noon hour without being stricken with heat stroke, and so I had to get up early in the morning and work until an hour before noon. As the sun reached its zenith, before Jim came in from the plantation fields for the midday meal, Fahmeed would bring me a bucket of water on the veranda outside my bedroom, so I could sluice the cooling water over my body. Then, while I was still naked, he had me come into my bedroom and stretch out on a leather-covered chaise lounge, and then he would massage my muscles expertly while humming a native song to me.

With the state I was in, of course this made my peter hard. And Fahmeed, all knowing of what I wanted, what I needed, would massage that as well, both with his hands and his mouth, and he’d take all of my soreness and most of my sexual tension away. But not all—he would not give me everything I wanted, saying I should not be ruined as young as I was. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that that had already happened and that I was ready, even at fourteen, to dive deeper into sexual experience.

As he massaged my back, I would raise my bare buttocks to him and moan softly, inviting him to plow me. But he would only laugh and lightly slap my buttocks and tell me to turn, and then he would open his lips over my throbbing cock and accept my flow. As the days and weeks went by, I begged him to take me, to show and teach me far more—to lift me farther than Antonio had been permitted to take me—and that, unbeknownst to my family, the tutor, Mr. Thorpe had lifted me.

But Fahmeed just smiled and murmured, “All in good time, my son. Some things must be honored. There are great purposes in you; we must not despoil them. You have a virginity to be prized, not to waste frivolously.”

I had no idea what he meant, and I was both angry and further aroused when I discovered that in the night—after Jane had departed—he gave Jim such massages too, including using the full techniques of sexual release on him—techniques that went beyond those Fahmeed performed on me. I tried to be outraged for Jane’s sake, but I was just in too much of a state to not want it to happen to me—and to not be able to watch it from the shadows of the veranda. Fahmeed would massage Jim’s body and then would do the same things to his cock that Fahmeed did to mine. But they wouldn’t stop there. After sucking Jim’s cock to overflow, Fahmeed would turn him on his belly and straddle his hips and ride Jim with his monstrously long and full cock. And then Fahmeed would lay on his back and open his legs to Jim for a return fucking. Jim was quite vocal during these sessions, and I learned many a new name for the sex activity I still was not fully permitted.