“He has papers—for international travels?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Legitimate ones?” Vince Grassley asked. He was sitting on the terrace of the brothel above the private beach east of Macau, China. He was American, forty-five, very distinguished looking—tall and slim, but well-muscled. His features were movie-star handsome, his auburn hair wavy, with graying sideburns. He looked very wealthy, highly confident. He was traveling on a diplomatic passport.
Lau Sung, half Chinese, half Portuguese, from a family that had been in the sex trade since before Macau reverted to China from Portuguese control, all business, gave a little laugh. “His papers are convincing enough. He’s Ian McLeish, Singapore passport, but, as you requested, altered to be an American.”
“We acquired him through a Singapore operation. We don’t ask, but the white slaver said he came from an orphanage there, parenting otherwise unknown. If the boys want to talk about it when they get here, they are punished until they don’t want to talk about it anymore. He’s fourteen. We’ve had him four months. He won’t be fifteen for another four months. I saw original documentation when I purchased him—everything but the birthdate and photo blanked out, of course.”
“He looks younger.”
“For which men here have paid more. If they don’t ask, we don’t tell.”
“He’s not a virgin?”
Lau Sung snorted. “He is a virgin every Tuesday and Thursday. He’s very convincing. He loses his virginity very dramatically upon request. I’ve taken it several times myself.” Lau Sung laughed and Grassley produced a thin smile. Lau Sung would not have been as forthcoming on the origin and sexual experience of the blond boy they were watching down on the beach, Austin Singleton, son of missionaries who had succumbed to tropical diseases, who was documented as Ian McLeish, if Grassley was just considering buying the boy for a single use. He was dickering on buying the boy to take away permanently. But he would, of course, use and attest the boy’s skills here before agreeing to buy him.
They both looked down onto the very private beach, rocks going down to the South China Sea on either end of the narrow strip of sand, with tall fencing running to and into the sea along the tops of the rocks on either side. The young men and a few boys were either playing an abbreviated game of soccer on the sand or were swimming in the sea or lounging on towels on the sand. A few patrons were on the beach as well. A couple of them were fucking young men or teenage boys on beach towels, with no one paying much attention.
In terms of attention, most of the attention from the men sitting on the terrace—the buyers and voyeurs—went to the beautiful boy with the golden hair and sleek body—Austin.
“I had expressed interest in one who could play tennis. Perhaps he’s too young to have—”
“He plays very well. The best of any of the young men and boys who play here,” the brothel master answered.
On the terrace, where Vince Grassley sat and Lau Sung hovered, sat a line of other men, some in traditional Chinese dress, a few in business suits, looking and selecting.
“Do you want—?” Lau Sung murmured, licking his lips.
“Have him brought up to a room,” Grassley answered, maintaining his thin smile. “I’ll decide when I’ve put him through his paces.”
“Do you require equipment—a whip or bindings or other toys?”
“You could provide them; I won’t need them unless he is not cooperative enough.”
“If you don’t decide to buy—”
“Yes, yes, I’ll pay to use him even if I decide not to buy him. I’m not sure I see any other boys down there who could compete with him for my needs. You say he is docile and malleable?”
“We did not have to change him,” Lau Sung answered. “I was told he was being laid by the head of the orphanage before he was bought from there. The white slavers fucked him too. I can attest that he has taken the cock well and willingly since he came to us. When I first talked with him, he said he was happy to be here rather than in the orphanage. And he knew what we did here, because when I first talked with him, I was on top of and inside him and he had willingly opened his legs for me. He seems hungry for it if he goes more than a couple of days without a cock. That has not been a problem, though; he is in high demand, as all golden blonds here are. He has learned courtesan skills here as well. I’m sure you will be satisfied.”
Vince Grassley stood in the bathroom door, naked and slow stroking his cock, as he watched Austin preparing to be fucked. Grassley had a good, well-cared-for body and a nice-sized cock. He had told Austin he wanted to watch all that the blond boy with a perfectly formed body was doing to ready himself. He was a highly arousing little piece—for men who wanted fourteen-year-old boys. The boy seemed quite cooperative so far and knew that Grassley would fuck him. He had a shy smile when he looked at the American, which Grassley hoped he would employ with other men of Grassley’s choice.
He watched Austin brush his teeth. He watched him piss and douche and shower. He watched the boy groom what was the start of a pubic bush, as golden blond as the hair on the lad’s head. He growled deep in his throat at the beauty of the boy as the lad moved his supple body.
And then Vince watched the surprised, fearful look in the boy’s eyes when Vince strode across the bathroom as Austin was toweling off, put a strong arm around the boy’s belly, and bent him over the toilet. Austin was used to foreplay in some form. Most men liked to run their hands over his smooth, supple skin before laying him. Several of them had had the fetish of reddening his buttocks—spanking him before they fucked him, connecting with and reveling in the child still in him. All of them had worked him slowly, giving him the opportunity to stretch for them, although they all delighted in coaxing his hole to blossom for them and seemingly impossibly open for what they had to put inside him, marveling at how something so small could open up for their shafts. This man just went for it, though. Austin wondered if he should pretend this was his first time under these circumstances. It didn’t matter, though, when Vince fucked him, he felt like it was for the first time—and reacted as such.
The wall behind the toilet was mirrored, and Vince looked into it to watch Austin’s expression of surprise, fear, horror, pain, and sustained suffering as Vince ran his fingers into the shoulder-length golden-blond and curly hair on Austin’s head, tightened his grip, and arched Austin’s head back so the two could maintain eye contact as Vince pressed his cock bulb at the rim of Austin’s entrance without preliminary coaxing the hole open and cruelly forced his cock up inside Austin’s passage, sinking in faster than Austin could comfortably open for him and holding, fully saddled, for just a moment of manhandling the writhing, gasping boy before he started to pump him.
Austin cried out in pain and consternation, babbled his unheeded requests for mercy, and otherwise acted out the first, surprise taking of a virgin boy as Vince had demanded that he do. It came more naturally on this first taking by the American than Austin had thought it would. But Austin’s passage was well used and it opened for the cock, stretching and taking the thick shaft. The boy set into an experienced stance, and he panted and was soon murmuring his surrender and passion and flinging his hands back to hold and caress the man’s rocking flanks as the cock pumped him. Austin glorified in being fucked, and this man was a superior cocksman.
Satisfied with the performance, Vince pulled out of Austin’s ass, twisted the young man around and forced him down on his knees, still using the grip he had on Austin’s hair, and presented his cock for sucking. Austin, whimpering and panting, gave the older man an expert blow job, bringing him off, not being shy about taking the cum in his throat.
“Go to the bed and lay on your back, with your legs spread and bent. Raise your tail a bit. Slowly jack yourself off. Pose for me like a boy who wants more of me.”
Austin did as Vince demanded, as before maintaining eye contact with the man who was making unusual demands of him. Vince stood at the foot of the bed, watching the boy heat up and writhe a bit and rock his pelvis up into his stroking hand until, with a low moan, the boy ejaculated.
“Don’t underestimate men liking to watch you do that before they fuck you a second time,” Vince said.
A half hour later, Grassley used the boy again, again telling him to respond as if it was for the first time. Grassley grabbed him up from the bed, manhandling him without giving the boy any instructions on what to do. He bent Austin bent him over the bed and covered him from behind. Austin struggled, but was subdued by having the breath knocked out of him by crushing embraces, until, moaning softly, he let his chest fall to the mattress at the foot of the bed and stretched his arms out from his sides in surrender. He continued moaning and babbling to himself as Grassley knelt behind him, grasped his hips between his hands, using his thumbs to pull the young man’s butt cheeks apart, and ate out Austin’s hole.
Standing and leaning over Austin’s back, Grassley whispered “Such slim hips” and then, as Austin cried out and writhed, he wrapped one arm around Austin’s belly and cupped the boy’s chin with the other hand, forced himself inside Austin’s passage, and fucked him in long, deep strokes. Once he had set up a rhythm, the hand he’d had holding Austin’s jaw with moved into the hair on the back of Austin’s head, gripped tightly, and arched Austin’s back up into him with Austin’s head pressed into Grassley’s shoulder.
Austin whimpered and groaned, but his duties as a boy whore took over and he fell into the rhythm, causing his passage walls to undulate over the stroking cock and setting up a counter rocking that put the efforts of the two into synch and had Grassley groaning and moaning as deeply as Austin did in the fuck. Grassley wasn’t particularly thick, but he was particularly long, and he took the effort that most of Austin’s men didn’t to sink into the boy’s soft core and working him there, caressing and kissing the boy’s passage walls deep and making Austin melt and babble his pleasure at the full attention. As he fucked, Grassley stroked Austin’s narrow hips with his fingers and murmured how sexy the boy was. Lost in a passion that other men hadn’t pulled out of him, Austin raised his arms, locking his fists behind Grassley’s neck. He turned his face to the older man’s and surrendered his mouth to Grassley’s tongue. When Grassley came, it was with complete satisfaction—for both of them.
Later, in the hall outside the bedroom, leaving Austin, belly down on the bed, panting and mewing and purring, Grassley settled the sale with Lau Sung.
“He’ll do nicely. A good mix of innocence and professionalism, and he’s a real beauty. Doesn’t look his age. He’ll be a smash hit.”
“We have been very happy with him. Quick turnover helps business, though. Can you tell me where you’re taking him?” Sung had assumed that Grassley was a procurer for another male brothel somewhere. Grassley hadn’t indicated otherwise.
“Thailand,” Grassley answered.
“Buddha help the boy then,” Sung said, with a frown. “They are cruel users in Thailand—and experts with the cock.”
“I think he will serve the purpose,” was all Grassley said before reentering the room; turning Austin on his belly; climbing on top of, mounting, and penetrating him; and beginning the fuck one more time. This time wasn’t to check the boy’s prowess and endurance out. This time was for Vince Grassley’s personal pleasure. Sensing that he had passed some sort of test, which meant the control wasn’t all this demanding American’s; Austin had some control now too—Austin employed all of the wiles he had learned in setting his passage on making love to the man’s shaft.
“The truth is that he isn’t my son. I’ve been watching you, General, and I know you’re interested. You could take him home with you today, no questions asked, if you were willing to cooperate with us in something that would be in your interest anyway.”
General Phichit Chulanont, army commander of Thailand’s ground forces, drew closer into Vince Grassley, from the American embassy in Bangkok. “I’m listening.”
Grassley told him what he could cooperate in Phichit taking the fourteen-year-old boy going by the name of Ian McLeish home with him and use the youth as he liked. He was well known for preferring young, blond boys, a rarity in Thailand, and using them totally.
They were on the tennis courts of the Armed Forces Officer Training Academy on Wireless Road in Bangkok. Every Saturday morning, General Phichit hosted what appeared to be an impromptu round-robin tennis exercise invitational for his officers and interested members of the foreign diplomatic community. In truth, it was a major information-gathering and deal-making venue in which Phichit kept his hand on the pulse of the nation’s business and its interactions with foreign countries.
The nation was in a volatile period. The administration had recently been replaced under military pressure and there were rumblings it might be replaced again by more active military measures. Phichit was at the center of the machinations. He was experienced in changes of leadership by coup, and he was possibly the second-most powerful figure in the country, behind the prime minister, who Phichit currently supported, not just in policy, but with backup military force. Phichit ruled the country’s army with an iron fist and by personal, factional loyalty. The prime minister was from a different faction, so the balance was tenuous.
Coup or no coup? The possibility of one lingered in the air and was the cause of much activity in the foreign diplomatic corp. The Americans were at the forefront of working to tip the balance in their favor. They had discovered General Phichit’s sexual preference. They were willing to back him as the next prime minister here if he cooperated with them. Putting a boy in his bed would give them leverage over him in so many ways.
The general had locked his attention on Austin as soon as he and Vince Grassley arrived at the army school tennis courts. Grassley, of course, had planned that this be the case. Austin’s pristine white tennis gear, designed to fit his perfect form closely made him stand out against the older diplomats and Thai army officers who had come out to the six adjacent courts. The sleek, supple body of the young blond attracted even more attention when he stripped his tennis shirt off. It was so hot on the courts that most of the men played bare-chested. The general was bare-chested as well. He was magnificently muscular and a glistening chocolate-brown hue. The scars on his chest, honestly won in battle with bandits on the country’s borders, only enhanced the arousal he surfaced in any man who was so inclined. When Austin played across the net from him, the electricity between the two, Austin for a muscular, massive brown bull and Phichit for a slim, young blond was almost palpable. Their imaginations raised the identical image—Phichit lying on top of Austin on the tennis court, mounted and penetrating the buttocks raised to receive him, and stroking inside him as Phichit’s hunky gathered around to watch and to wait their turns with the boy.
The courts accommodated twenty-four players at a time and there were more than thirty in attendance. The weather was blazing hot and humid enough to cut with a knife, and the players paused for lengthy times to replace fluids, to ogle each other if they pleased, and to do the business that brought most of them out in the first place.
Austin was the only one there younger than twenty. He also was the best-looking male there. It was more than General Phichit who buzzed around him, trying to find out who this beautiful new boy was—where he came from and what he was doing there. Boys this age and this sexy and handsome were not normally seen on the courts on a Saturday morning.
Vince Grassley was fairly new to the country too and was assumed to be connected with the Station—the intelligence office—of the American embassy. Was the boy his son or the son of some other new employee there? Austin claimed to be on vacation from a prep school in the States and Grassley hinted to selected men that Austin might somehow be related to him. So, the rumor spread that Austin was Grassley’s son. Some, though, knowing Grassley’s proclivities, whispered that the boy probably was his lover. And from that built the speculation that the luscious boy took cock and started the speculation, including in the mind of General Phichit, that he might take their cock.
After Phichit had maneuvered to be taking a break at the same time as Austin was, Austin having shown, thanks to recent training, that he played tennis well, for a second time and had shown enough attention to Austin that others interested in the boy knew to back off, knowing the general’s interests and also his importance, Grassley managed to be alone with the general long enough to offer Austin to him in exchange for his cooperation with the U.S. intelligence plan to move him into the prime minister position via a military coup.
Thus, when the tennis session was winding down and General Phichit offered to show Vince Grassley and Austin around the school building adjacent to the tennis courts, Grassley begged off but said that Austin should go ahead and take the tour. Austin readily agreed without even asking how he would get back to Grassley’s house.
But he knew to tease a bit too. He smiled and said, “I’m soaked with sweat from the workout on the court. Maybe we could make arrangements for another time.”
“This is an army facility,” Phichit said, “and physical training is a key part of our program. We have showers and locker room facilities in the school building. You brought other clothes you can change into, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” Austin answered.
“Well, then, shall we take a look at the school? I’ll have my orderly take him where he needs to go after our tour,” Phichit said, with a smile, turning to speak to Grassley and not waiting for Austin to answer. Both Grassley and the general knew that where Austin would be taken wouldn’t be back to Grassley’s house. What the general didn’t know, though, was that Austin also knew he would be going elsewhere.
Austin didn’t know he’d be fucked right there at the school, though, with General Phichit believing it was Austin’s first time with a man.
Austin put on a good performance as the soaped up their naked bodies. Two hefty lieutenants stood outside the door on guard, listening and using their imaginations to gauge how the seduction was advancing. The general and the boy stood, naked, under shower heads at opposite ends of the shower chamber, eying each other. Phichit had a massive, muscular build and a thick, black cock, emerging from an unruly bush, that would have hung low if he hadn’t been in full erection.
“Does it disturb you to see me in such need?” the general asked, calling out across the echoey shower chamber.
“A little,” Austin answer.
“And yet you are hard too,” the general said.
“Yes,” Austin replied.
Austin looked like a Michelangelo angel. As the general had pointed out, he too was in erection, so the two men didn’t need and interpreter to speak the attraction they had for each other.
“You know what I want,” the general said.
“And you will give it to me?” Austin didn’t answer, but that didn’t stop the general from moving swiftly to him from across the shower room, embrace the seemingly surprised, trembling boy, wrap a hand around the lad’s pert cock, and take his lips in a kiss. In keeping with the chaste persona he was trying to sell, Austin broke away from the embrace and moved toward the doorway into the locker room. But the strong Phichit, moving like a jungle cat, intercepted him, wrapped his arms around the boy again, and drew him back into the interior of the shower room and under a cascade of water.
“Yes, yes, fight me for it, like this,” the general muttered. “It’s all the more delicious to take it from you.”
The two men wrestled, Austin obviously losing traction as Phichit manhandled him, pushed him up against the tiled wall, and put him on his cock. Pressing Austin’s chest into the soap-slicked back wall, the general had one arm wrapped around Austin’s belly and the other hand at Austin’s throat, arching the young man’s head back into the hollow of Phichit’s shoulder, while Austin screamed bloody murder and the general mounted, penetrated, and fucked him, thinking he was taking the boy for the first time, and reveling in his victory.
He muttered, “You’re fucked now. Relax, open to me. You’ll take it better.”
Pulling away from the wall, Phichit went into a slight crouch, held Austin to him, the young man’s ass skewered on his cock, Austin bent over and his legs and arms dangling, and used the strength of his forearm wrapped around Austin’s belly to pull him on and off the shaft. Austin relaxed as directed and as he was far more schooled in that than Phichit realized—or wanted to believe—and Phichit fucked the young man to his buried ejaculation. Austin had already come, his seed dribbling down his thighs.
Phichit let Austin’s body puddle down to the wet floor of the shower and he came down hovered on top of the trembling body. Phichit glided his hands over Austin’s body, quietening the boy down and whispering words of approval and consolation to him. Austin stiffened as he assumed he should when the general said they’d do it again in a few minutes, but then he relaxed, opened his stance to give greater access to his curves and crevices to the general’s searching hands, and moaned his total surrender.
After letting Austin rest while the general cooed to him about how desirable and nice he was, the general said, “Since you took it so well and have now done it with a man, you have two choices—I can use you again and have my men throw you into the river, or you can willingly come to my house and submit to me as I want. If you choose to come with me, you will have to willingly serve me.”