Chapter 19

The mahjong parlor reeked of stale sweat, cheap jasmine tea, and the sharp chemical tang of poppers Toby shoved under my nose before we even sat down. Neon signs outside bled crimson and gold through the grimy window. Inside, the air hung thick with smoke from cheap cigarettes and the constant clack-clack-clack of ivory tiles. Uncle Eight, that’s what they called him, Bā Ye, scar running from his cheek to his lip like a knife slash – sat east, his gold Rolex glinting as he shoved a tile forward. “Come on, bitch,” he grunted, chin jerking toward the table’s shadowy underside. “I need your mouth around my cock. Make it wet.”

I ducked beneath the table and crawled on my knees that screamed against the sticky plastic flooring, precum already drooling from my tiny cocklette. The world narrowed to scuffed shoe soles, the smell of Uncle Eight’s sandalwood oil mixing with the Indian client’s curry spices and the musky sweat of an expat businessman’s neck. My hands trembled as I fumbled with the belts and zippers. I pulled out their dirty, unwashed cocks that stank of urine and sweat. But I was too far gone to even hesitate. I took their shafts into my mouth one by one, deep, fast, cheeks hollowing, tongue flat against shafts that pulsed hot and urgent. Tears burned my eyes not just from gagging but from the humiliation. I was once Max, the star salesman who used to close deals in Central, married to a gorgeous doctor, living in a beautiful Midlevels apartment with a view of the harbour. Now I’m sucking triad cock under a mahjong table like a bitch, yet my tiny nub of a cock was twitching, a traitorous pulse each time a thumb brushed my ear or a hip jerked forward. Uncle Eight laughed, a low, guttural sound. “Nice, nice, you’re good, Maxine.” His fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to see his smirk as he came thick and salty down my throat. I swallowed, reflexive, the taste of salt and shame coating my tongue.

Then came the lapdance. I shuffled back up, legs wobbling, to straddle the winning player, a young Indonesian guy with nervous eyes and a gold chain digging into his collarbone. The others hooted, slapping the table as I ground my ass against his erection through his silk pants, my budding breasts bouncing. I rolled my hips slow and deep to the pounding bass music, my skin slick with sweat. I focused on the trivial: the loose thread on his shirt sleeve, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gasped, the sticky sweetness of the cheap whiskey they had forced down my throat earlier. My mind drifted - I had been the recipient of lap dances just like this back when I was a man, when I was still called Max. But that felt like so long ago, like a fading memory. My body betrayed me, heat coiling low as his hands gripped my waist, forcing me to grind on his hardness, not just holding my hips but owning me. He came with a choked moan, staining his pants and I felt strangely powerful - a mixture of drugs and alcohol.

They gave me more drugs after that. Ecstasy made the mahjong tiles glow neon at the edges, poppers turned every inhale into a headrush that left me dizzy and leaking, and the whiskey burned sweet fire down my throat. They passed me around like a shared bottle to drink from, cocks in my mouth, ass, hands, until I was bent over the table, two thick shafts pumping into me simultaneously. One thick cock stretched my ass raw, as I choked on a second shoved down my throat. I tasted copper from biting my tongue, felt the tear in my asshole bleed warmth against the invading cock, heard the wet schlick-schlick of double penetration over the roar of laughter and mahjong clacks. My thoughts fragmented: Vanessa’s voice murmuring in my ears, fondling me ... the public toilet glory hole in Yau Ma Tei ... being fucked on the beach ... on the hiking trail ... Then Uncle Eight was there, gripping my hips, his cock forcing into my already-stretched ass alongside the Indonesian’s – a searing, tearing burn that made me scream around the cock in my mouth, tears flooding my cheeks as my vision whited out with pain and something worse: a desperate, shameful arousal that made my cock swell painfully. They came in waves, hot and thick, filling me until I trembled, cum leaking from both holes as they pulled back, leaving me collapsed and sobbing on the sticky felt, the cage a constant, mocking pressure against my abused pelvis.