Chapter 11

Perhaps I had been too absorbed in my escorting schedule, but I gradually noticed that Charles visited our Mid-Levels flat less and less frequently until he stopped coming altogether. One evening, Vanessa returned home in floods of tears, her mood darker than a stormy night over Victoria Harbour. Everything I did irritated her; she snapped at my every move. After dinner, she ordered me to strip naked, unlocked my chastity cage with its insistent urethral plug, and removed the buttplug from my ass before kneeling on the cold marble floor. She grabbed our largest dildo, a monstrous twelve-inch beast covered with ridges and bumps, and rammed it into my ass without mercy, twisting it viciously as I gasped in shock. The pain burned like fire, stretching me wide while she pounded it deeper, ignoring my whimpers. I struggled to crawl away from it, but she pinned my head down with her foot and pounded my ass until I was screaming for mercy. After the months of escorting and the hundreds of men who had fucked me, none had been as wretchedly violent as her. When men fucked my ass, they were seeking their own pleasure, sometimes looking out for mine, to boost their ego. But what Vanessa was doing to me, was not sensual at all, it was sexual violence, a vicious, calculated assault to degrade and humiliate me.

Then she fetched the new flogger she had bought from that fetish shop in Wan Chai, its leather tails whipping through the air with a sinister hiss. She lashed my back first, each strike landing like hot brands across my skin, raising angry red welts that throbbed with every heartbeat. I squealed, my body jerking forward, but she yanked me back by my hair. ‘You pathetic sissy whore! Look at you, nothing but a cum-dump for real men!’ she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. She turned to my ass next, flogging the cheeks until they burned crimson, the impacts jolting the dildo deeper inside me. Tears welled in my eyes as she targeted my shrunken cock and budding breasts, the tails biting into the sensitive flesh, making me grimace and sob uncontrollably. ‘Fucking useless tranny bitch! You stole my life, you disgusting little faggot!’ she bellowed, her fury unyielding. Each word stabbed deeper than the lashes; I curled inward, snot and tears mixing on my face, my body a canvas of torment while she vented her rage, her strikes growing wilder until my skin felt raw and broken.

Suddenly, a heavy pounding rattled the door. Vanessa cracked it open, her face flushed. It was the security guard from downstairs. ‘Sorry, missus, we got reports of noise disturbance. Is everything okay up here?’ he asked in his thick Cantonese accent. ‘We’re fine’. Vanessa opened the door wider, so the security guard could see me naked on the floor with the dildo up my ass. ‘Do you want to fuck the bitch tonight?’ she asked me. He froze, debating internally, then shook his head. ‘No thank you miss, just keep the volume down.’

Once he left, Vanessa hurled the flogger aside with a clatter. She uncorked a bottle of red wine, some pricey Bordeaux from CitySuper, and drank it straight from the bottle, draining fast, like it was ice water after exercise. I remained kneeling, naked and plugged with the dildo, unsure whether to move or speak. She cracked open another bottle, and drank it just as quickly. Finally, she collapsed onto the sofa, her head lolling sideways. I rushed over and checked her. ‘Are you okay, Van?’ She shook her head, words slurring thickly. ‘Charles ... Charles has a new girlfriend now ... Younger than me ... prettier than me. He doesn’t want to be seen with me ... I’m a married woman ... I should have just divorced you ... You ruined my life ... I fucking hate you ... Why didn’t I divorce you? I’m so stupid... ‘

Then she retched violently, vomiting across the floor in a foul puddle. I helped her stagger to the bathroom, holding her hair back as she heaved into the toilet, her body shaking. I mopped up the mess with towels, then guided her under the shower, washing her gently with lavender soap, massaging her scalp until the grime and sickness washed away. I dried her off tenderly, slipped her into fresh silk pyjamas, and tucked her into bed.

Why had she not divorced me? She could have done it easily; she should have. As she lay there, her hand brushed my cheek softly. ‘You’re so pretty, Maxine ... Thank you for taking care of me... ‘ she murmured before drifting into sleep.

I felt utterly torn inside, a storm of emotions churning like the crowds on Nathan Road at rush hour, like a Typhoon number 10 sweeping across Hong Kong, destroying bamboo scaffolding, uprooting trees and plants. A part of me despised Vanessa with every fiber of my being, for secretly feeding me the estrogen that shrank my manhood and swelled my breasts, for chaining me in chastity and plugs, for molding me into this feminized slave whoring in cheap hotels. Yet gratitude flickered in me too; she had not cast me aside, and in this twisted existence, I felt more vibrantly alive than in my old salesman days, my earnings as an escort surpassing those stale commissions. Despite the welts stinging my back, the ache in my ass from the dildo, and the fresh bruises on my cock, a deep, unwavering love for Van persisted, a quiet flame amid the chaos, unquenched by the typhoons. I stroked her hair softly until her breathing steadied into peaceful slumber, then crawled into my dog bed in the corner, fastened the chastity cage back around my cocklette, reinserted the buttplug into my butt, feeling it’s comfortable girth filling me like a familiar presence, and slept alone in the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the windows.