Fourteen-year-old Clayton Bryant lay there, naked, moaning low, and drawing on an opium pipe, on the couch in headmaster Padre João’s office in Macau’s Santa Rosa de Lima Catholic school. Cooing to him and assessing how much under the influence of the opium the boy was, the priest sat close to the side of the couch. The opium was to mellow the boy and relax him for his first taking; it wasn’t to fool him about anything. Clayton had been begging for this even after the priest had fully discussed the significance of what the boy wanted.

The priest moved a pillow under the boy’s waist at the back, lifting and rolling up the curly sunny-blond-haired English boy’s pelvis. Clayton was holding the pipe in one hand and was shuffling through penny postcard photographs fanned out over his chest with the other. Clayton himself had acquired some of the postcards showing sexual positions of men covering boys, but the priest had given him more to look at. Clayton had expressed interest in going with a man in these positions.

The boy wasn’t being forced. He had been caught looking at these penny photographs and the seduction had built from there. Padre João hadn’t punished the boy, who had resided at the school since his parents, a hydraulic engineer and his recordkeeping wife, left him there the previous year, 1933, and were working on Pearl River flood control and irrigation system projects above the city of Canton. Discerning and latching onto the boy’s already indicated sexual interests, the Portuguese priest had cultivated and channeled Clayton’s interests rather than punished and attempted to suppress them.

The school and Padre João had been ejected from the Portuguese colony years earlier, but it had been permitted back two years before now with the help of the Chinese Triad active in Macau—the Cantonese gang controlling thievery, gambling, drugs, and prostitution in the colony. One of the chiefs of the Triad, Ho Hau-wah, was sitting across the room and watching the priest prepare the boy.

It was Ho Hau-wah who would be privileged to take Clayton’s virginity to a man’s penetration.

Clayton hadn’t been with a man before, although Padre João had been preparing him for that event over the previous weeks with penny postcard photographs, cajoling words, the use of opium, his massaging and stroking hands, some mutual fellatio, and the insertion of an ivory dildo. Clayton, the perfectly formed, blond English fourteen-year-old, was going to lose his anal penetration virginity to a man under a chieftain of the Macau Triad tonight—and he was going to do so willingly. The opium was to smoothen the process.

Padre João reached over and positioned Clayton’s legs, bending and spreading them and placing the boy’s feet flat on the couch. The boy turned his face to the priest, smiled at him, and blew a bubble of opium smoke at him. The priest stroked the taint between the base of the boy’s pert, small balls and his anal entrance briefly with a thumb before positioning the digit at the entrance and pressed it inside. Clayton sighed, his boy’s cock moving to an erection. The priest leaned down and kissed the boy on the lips, and Clayton opened his lips to him. The thumb worked its way in and out of the anal passage and Clayton began to rock his hips on the penetrating thumb.

The two had been here before. Clayton was fine with this. Padre João moved his other hand under the hem of his black cassock and moved it up his leg to his crotch and stroked himself as he worked the boy’s passage entrance with his thumb.

Across the room, the Triad chief, Ho Hau-wah, unbuttoned his robe at the crotch, pulled out his cock, and stroked himself as he watched the blond English boy being prepared for him. The school was going to gather quite a bit of good will with the Macau Triad this night.

The thumb came out and Padre João reached for the ivory dildo he’d been using with Clayton for two weeks. He greased it up. Clayton gave a little cry and arched his back, as the priest worked the dildo inside him.

“Take another pull at the pipe, Clayton,” the priest whispered to him, and then when Clayton did, the priest said, “and another one. We have discussed this, Clayton. You want to be with a man—with men. You will be tonight.”

“I want to be with you—under you,” Clayton murmured.

“I know you do, but I am a priest. I cannot be first. Master Ho here will take care of you first.” The headmaster priest didn’t say why he couldn’t be first. He didn’t want to tell Clayton that it was all economics and politics—that Clayton’s virginity to men was worth more than the priest could intercede in. The school and, indeed, the priest himself, needed the patronage of the Macau Triads. “Take the ivory shaft in your hand, Clayton. Work yourself. I’ll hold the postcards for you. Continue to draw on the pipe.”

The boy did as directed, working the dildo himself and rocking on it. He sighed and smiled at the priest and over to the Chinese man, tall, slender, hard-bodied, with wiry muscles now standing near the couch, naked, a long, thin erection in his hand.

“The boy is ready for you,” Padre João said to the Triad chief as he withdrew the dildo from Clayton’s passage. “Take another pull on the pipe, Clayton.” The boy did and Padre João took the pipe from him.

Ho came over to the side of the bed. He took one of Clayton’s hands in his and wrapped it around his erection, showing the boy how to slow stroke him. On the other side the couch, Padre João also stood, unbuttoned his cassock at his crotch and produced his own erection. He moved Clayton’s other hand to that, and Clayton was stroking off both cocks. The two men, in turn, were running their hands over Clayton’s trembling body, arrived together at the boy’s own cock and balls and stroked him. He came quickly in their hands, moaning and groaning softly. This was not new. The boy had been here before with the priest.

The boy’s virginity to a hand job was not the virginity the Triad chieftain was here to take.

“Very good, Clayton,” Padre João murmured. “Now the pipe again.” Clayton took a hit and the priest took the pipe and checked on the ivory dildo in the boy’s passage, moved it around a bit, and then slid it out. He looked across his body at the Chinese Triad chieftain. “You can mount him now. He is opened for you.”

Ho Hau-wah climbed up on the couch, hovering over Clayton, kneeling between the boy’s spread thighs. He put the bulb of his erection in position. Clayton whimpered and began to pant. He turned his face toward the priest, his eyes wide, the pupils dilated. Padre João smiled encouragingly at him and patted him on the arm.

“It’s what you want, son,” he said. “After Master Ho, we can meld, you and I. It’s what you want.”

Ho Hau-wah grasped the boy’s wrists and forced his arms over his head. Clayton cried out and arched his back again, babbling as the Triad chieftain penetrated him with his cock.

“Jingzhi bu dong. Fangsong!” Ho commanded.

“He’s telling you to hold still and relax,” Padre João murmured to Clayton, stroking the boy’s brow to calm him down. “You want this. Keep telling yourself that. Think of yourself in those photographs you love and of you being in one of those positions.”

“A. Ruci tianmi. Tai xinxianle,” Ho muttered, now, inside the boy deep, he clearly was pleased.

“He likes you,” the priest whispered. “He says you are sweet and fresh. He is enjoying you, Clayton. Feel free to enjoy him.”

The priest gave Clayton another pull on the opium pipe, as Clayton held still and the Chinese man settled into a position over his body. He wasn’t a particularly thick man, not as thick as the ivory dildo was, and both he and Clayton’s passage were well greased, so he went in without much difficulty and stroked inside Clayton with ease, although with a marveled utterance of “Tieshen dan Nanshan—A close fit, but supple,” Ho clearly was pleased with the sheathing.

Most of Clayton’s difficulty was in this being the first time and by a stranger—a Chinese man. Padre João was Portuguese, another European. Although in Macau, Clayton had been held more or less in isolation in the school. Chinese men were a mystery to him.

Ho hovered over him, holding for the boy’s passage to fully adjust to the throbbing flexibility, yet hardness of steel, of an actual man’s cock inside him. Clayton looked into the man’s black, lust-filled eyes, with his own drugged gaze, panting and whimpering—saying over and over in his mind that he and the padre had agreed that this was what he wanted. He grimaced as the cock started to move inside him—in and out, in and out. He widened the stance of his legs to be as open as possible to the first shaft he was taking inside him.

The Triad chieftain set up a rhythm of the fuck. Clayton relaxed, realizing the penetration was no more taxing than the ivory dildo was—it was just different and, in many ways, more arousing and satisfying. As he relaxed, Ho released his wrists, set his hands into the couch on either side of the boy’s chest, and raised on his toes, his slender, hard body in a straight incline above the boy’s body, and methodically pumped the young man’s passage. Moaning, Clayton hooked his knees on the man’s hips, closing the passage on the stroking cock now, dug his fingernails into Ho’s shoulder blades, and rocked with the fuck. He whimpered and sobbed but it was more of a celebration of a long-anticipated release than from pain that surpassed the passion. Ignoring the boy’s writhing and sobs, Ho fucked him to a breeding ejaculation.

Ho tensed, jerked, and came. Clayton sighed and collapse fully under him. Ho tensed, jerked, and came again ... and again. “Tian, shonyi, meiwei. Tao bei yaole—Sweet, yielding, delicious. The peach is bitten,” the Chinese Triad chieftain murmured, using the Chinese image of a man tearing the virginity out of a boy’s channel. He pulled out of the passage, rubbed the cum that had dribbled out on the boy’s slightly heaving belly, and penetrated him again, holding as his cock went flaccid inside the passage. And he remained inside until he had stiffened again.

The fuck started again. Clayton, fully relaxed, vulnerable, yielding, widened his stance even more and ran his hands down the man’s tight, muscular, battle-wound pocked torso to Ho’s tight buttocks, clutching them in his hands, feeling them contract and expand with the man’s thrusts. Throwing his head back and crying out, Clayton came again himself between their bellies and collapsed, mumbling incoherently to himself as Ho completed his second fuck.

At the door to the room afterward, there was a bit of an argument between the Triad chief and the priest, an argument that Padre João lost.

“A sedan chair will arrive to take the boy away in the morning. He will be a very nice addition to the House of the Bei Yao de Taozi. You will be paid well.”

“But the boy is not for sale. He is a student here. What would I tell his parents?”

“Tell them whatever you want to tell them. Children die from disease in Macau every day. It is easy to disappear without a trace in Macau. Have him ready for the sedan chair at early light.”

As they talked, Clayton lay, in place, on the couch, trembling, panting, and moaning. It was not as he thought it would be, but it was done. Padre João had assured him it would be better and better each time, though, and it was, as the priest said, what he wanted. He turned his face toward the two men at the door and languidly observed them, his mind hazy from the opium that had mellowed him out and helped the passion, want, and need to overcome the pain. He was still in an open position, his hole gaping and dribbling cum. Ho had remarked and laughed at how open the boy was now and had contemplated a third ride but didn’t feel he had the time now. There always was the next day, though.

When Ho Hau-wah was gone, Padre João turned and looked at Clayton. It would be a way, he had to admit—to pretend the boy had died. There was so much disease swirling around in the colony that it always was a believable explanation for someone no longer being there. He wouldn’t be able to prevent putting Clayton in the sedan chair the next day, and he knew exactly where the boy was going and what would happen to him. The House of the Bei Yao de Taozi was a male brothel on the Rue de Xiamen just north of the Nam Van Lake at the southern end of the island. The English translation for the brothel’s name was “Bitten Peach,” which was the term used for young male prostitutes who had been initiated into sex by men. What the Triad chieftain had just done in taking the boy’s virginity was to have taken the first bite of the peach.