Shanghai Silk

Chad, breathing easily and looking mighty fine for a man of thirty-seven, ended his run at his usual bench beside a tool house in the remote Myrtle Beach park tucked into a golf course almost within sight of the ocean enough for most not to realize it was a separate public park. As usual, he ran in just athletic shorts and running shoes. His auburn red hair was boyishly tussled and reddish down swirled around his firm pecs and down the line of his sternum and six pack and under the waistband of the shorts. The raised sitting area was sheltered on the side opposite the running path by a semicircle of azalea bushes. The tool shed and bench sat on the top of a rise, and anyone in that area had to stand from the bench to be seen from the path down the slope.

He looked at his watch and stood up from the bench, moving his hand to the crotch of his athletic sorts, following the long and distinct line of his nestled cock, starting to come alive at the thought of what lay ahead. The figure of a young blond, tanned man, also in jogging shorts, also shirtless, was already on the path below, jogging slowly in place. The young man was looking up the slope. When he saw Chad standing up there, he stopped jogging and moved his hand to his crotch as well.

He was short, small, well-formed but looking young—too young. But that was what Chad was expecting. He knew otherwise, or had been assured otherwise. He would check, of course. He motioned with his head and sat back down on the bench. The young man appeared over the rise of the slope and sat, hesitatingly, next to Chad. The two turned toward each other, looking each other over.

"Interested in a blow job?" the young man asked, his voice low, his eyes looking furtively around.

"Did someone send you?" Chad asked.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Ted."

Chad nodded his head. The prearranged signals had been the right ones. Ted was his best recruiter, concentrating on students at Webster College suddenly in need of money and already gay curious. He moved an arm around the young man's back across the back of the bench. Placing three fingers of that hand lightly on the young man's right bicep proved enough to hold him in place. The young man was a bit skittish, repeatedly scanning the area for anything amiss.

"Where we gonna do it? Behind these bushes?"

"In a minute. Some checking first," Chad answered. He moved his free hand to glide along the young man's pecs, down his sternum and belly, testing the hardness and resilience of the skin as if he were shopping for a thoroughbred race horse, which, in some sense, he was. It would take a special kind of young man to take on what he had in the plans. Here again Ted was crucial. He selected them very carefully.

The hand moved underneath the waistbands of the young man's athletic shorts and jock strap. The young man flinched and automatically spread his thighs as Chad cupped his balls and placed a thumb on the base of the young man's cock. The young man started breathing heavier and his cock started to engorge, but he held steady.

"Ted tell you what this was about?"

"Yes."

"And you still want to sign on?"

"Yes."

"Name?"

Hesitation. "Jake."

"Real name or the one you want to use with us?"

"The, uh . . . professional name I've chosen, I guess."

Chad started slow-stroking Jake's cock.

"Done fellatio before?"

"Fellah what?" Jake was trembling at the attention being given his cock, working hard to pay attention to that and what Chad was saying at the same time.

"Blow jobs. Have you sucked guys off before."

"Once or twice. You know, around the dorm. And Ted."

"Just a few times, you sure? Ted told you how important it was to be fresh, didn't he?"

"Yes. Shit, if you continue doin' that, I'm gonna come."

"Yes, you are, you're going to come for me, Jake. Are you sure it's only a few times?"

"Yes."

"But it's what you want? For the benefits you'll receive? Ted explained all of that, right?"

"Yes. It's what I want."

"Been anally fucked?"

"No . . . never." Ted had been very explicit about that.

"You sure? We'll check, you know. There's a full-time doctor on staff. He'll know." Of course there was no sure way of checking for the anal virginity in a man, especially if it had been a while in the past, but Jake didn't need to know that. He was just a college kid—from the nearby Webster University, where Chad got most of his fresh meat, thanks to Ted—for which Ted was richly rewarded. Young college guys, looking good and in great shape, coming to the Carolina coast for college because they were drawn to the surf and the beach resort culture. Randy and needing money, finding it more expensive to live the beach life here than they had anticipated. More often than not willing to be gay for pay to bail them out even if not fully gay.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"But willing to give it up on screen for pay?"

"Yes."

"Bound? Ted made that clear?"

A slight hesitation, maybe more in trying to hold his ejaculation response in check than because Ted hadn't made clear what he'd have to do. "Yes. God, I think I'm gonna come."

"Not yet, Jake. You have to learn to control it. If you come before I tell you, the deal's off. You brought the documents? Your driver's license? Copy of a college transcript verifying your age? Don't worry about the name. I'll only look at it for a matchup and then forget it. You'll be paid in cash under the table. No taxes. And the doctor's certificate? My own doctor will verify that before your first anal—which could be as early as today. We have a client hot to fuck a virgin. We bareback, you understand, don't you? Ted was clear about this. Medical checks frequently."

"Yes, yes, to it all. Oh shit, I wanna come. Please let me come. Here, here are the docs." He was fumbling in the pocket of his shorts and came up with the demanded documents.

"Lay them on the bench beside you. And then you can come."

"Right here, in the jock pouch?"

"Yes, in the jock pouch, Jake."

Jake arched his head back, gave a lurch and a moan, and slathered the inside of his jock pouch with cum.

"Very nice. Quite a load," Chad said after a moment of holding there, both savoring the moment. "Most clients like a big shooter."

He extracted his hand, wiped it on the leg of Jake's shorts, and reached over Jake's lap, picking up the documents and perusing them, while Jake reclined, collapsed on the bench and panting shallowly.

"All is in order so far, Jake," Chad said.

Jake swiveled his head around. "So, Ted said I'd be sucking you off before you took me to this club place."

"Not in the bushes, Jake. I have a key to this tool shed here."

It was larger than a shed and Jake did a double take when Chad unlocked and opened the door and guided the young may inside. It wasn't like any tool shed Jake had ever seen before. First, no garden tools. Second, the walls were draped in some sort of shiny red material. Third, there was just one straight chair sitting in the middle of the floor. And fourth, now that he had looked around, Jake saw that there were video cameras in every corner, in the upper corners focused down and in the bottom corners focused up—all directed at the chair. And there were studio lights around the top of the walls.

Ten minutes later, both men were naked, Chad sitting in the chair, Jake kneeling between Chad's thighs. Chad was making the last adjustments on Jake's bonds. He had already turned on the studio lighting and video cameras.

"What's the red scarf for?" Jake asked, the first question he'd asked since they'd entered the shed. "And what's with the material on the walls?" Until then he was in awe of what he'd found in the shed. Chad was looping the long, ropey scarf around the link of the fleece-lined handcuffs holding Jake's wrists together behind his back and moving it to connect, first, with the ankle binding on Jake's left ankle where it was bound to the extender bar spreading Jake's legs and then running it to the right ankle and back to the handcuff links, effectively immobilizing Jake on his knees in front of the seated Chad.

"Shanghai silk, Jake. The signature of the Henry Benson Enterprises. Red silk. Attention-getting lovely, smooth to the touch, delicate in appearance, but the strength of steel. That's what you'll have to be if you work for us, Jake. Beautiful to look at, delicate to the senses, but the steel of a man. Can you do that?"

"I think so, but your cock. It's so thick and long. You'll be—?"

"There will be men thicker and longer than I am, Jake. And they will be what they want to be with you. If you work for me, you'll take it."

"I know, but, I haven't . . . much yet . . . I haven't. Oh shi . . . uhmpf . . . mmmpf . . ."

"And you'll get bigger tips if you make it seem that you haven't done it much, just like this," Chad said, with a laugh, as, clutching Jake's ears, and thrusting his hips, he brutally face fucked Jake with his cock.

He pulled Jake's face off the cock just to hear him suck in air, gasp and gag, and begin to beg for mercy, and then he pulled the mouth onto the cock again, and pumped to a deep-throat, gagging ejaculation.

Jake fell off to the side after Chad was finished coming.

"A lot of it will be just like that, Jake," he muttered.

* * * *

Chad had just entered his office on the third floor of the Henry Bensen Enterprises building on the North Myrtle Beach oceanfront when a call came through from China.

Chad wasn't Henry Bensen. Henry, who had died the previous year, had been Chad's bondage daddy. He'd brought Chad to the States from China, shared the world of his enterprises with Chad, and had left it all to Chad. The enterprises were extensive, profitable, and humming along—and all were located in this building. The basement and first floor provided not only covered parking protected from searching eyes but also a flood zone for the hurricanes that occasionally raced up the Atlantic seacoast of the States—although only rarely affecting this South Carolina beach resort. Floor two was the legitimate book and magazine publishing house fronting the enterprises. The third floor housed the integral, yet also separate, pornographic publishing operations.

A buffer floor of storage rooms, archive vaults, and security areas occupied the fourth floor. Everyone going above this floor was closely checked. The Handcuff Club, a very private and exclusive men's club occupied the next two floors, the public entertainment rooms on the fifth floor and the very private rooms plus photography and movie studio rooms and an Internet Web site studio on the sixth floor. An extensive medical clinic, manned by medical technicians around the clock and supervised by a full-time doctor, plus a few small apartments for a select number of staffers made of the seventh floor. On the waterfront side of the eighth floor were located more staff apartments, with the road side taken up by a two-story elaborate dungeon set. Chad's private penthouse started on the waterfront side of the ninth floor and took up the entire tenth floor, which also included extensive roof-top terracing.

"Hello, Sung," Chad responded to the telephone call from Shanghai. "This must be important for you to call in the middle of your night."

"It's Bao Chuan. You likely assumed it would be. He has become insufferable and is endangering my operations here. You had mentioned being able and willing to do something about that."

"Give me a few days to get a crew together and I'll be over there. You probably know I will be quite happy to handle Bao Chuan for you."

"I know you have never . . . forgotten him, Chan," Sung Li answered, using Chad's Chinese name. "It should not be messy, though, or redound on the theater."

"It won't. I think I've come up with an elegant solution for all of us. Tell me, is Bao Chuan still living in my parents' house?"

"Yes, the cheeky bastard, he is. I appreciate this, little one. It will be good to see you again. I've ached for you. You know how much I love you."

"Do you?" Chad asked, his voice a little harder now.

"Please, don't be like that. I long to have you inside me again."

Chad softened. "I long to be there with you too. Until then."

When he disconnected, he left the office and took the elevator up to sixth floor. The session with Jake should be over now, he thought. The doctor had given the young blond a clean bill and had even supposed that he probably had not had anal sex before. Chad reached the Tientsin room just as the patron was coming out of the studio, wrapped in a red silk robe, smiling, and taking the mask off his face that many of the patrons chose to wear while filming. Most wanted private copies of the films; few wanted to be identified by facial recognition in them, though.

The man was middle aged, but in very good shape and well equipped. The Henry Bensen Enterprises had as stringent standards that clients had to meet as it had for the male prostitutes. This included frequent and immediate before sessions medical testing.

The Henry Bensen Enterprises were an exclusively barebacking operation. That's what brought in the high profits.

"Did the session go well for you?" Chad asked, careful not to say a name, although of course he knew who the U.S. congressman was.

"Yes, very well, thank you. Splendidly. A screamer. You know my tastes so well. I want to hear about the next virgin you have so that I can bid on the first fucking. This one went extremely well. He looks so young, and he was highly vocal in the taking. And tight. I have no doubt I was in there first. Well worth the money."

Which was $2,000 from the congressman, which he no doubt would pass on as a business expense somehow. Plus a DVD for Harry Bensen Enterprises.

Chad continued on into the studio. The three cameramen were moving around the periphery, turning off the studio lights and checking the video footage they had taken, not even looking at the moaning and panting young man spread-eagled on his belly and bound on the bed in the center of the room. Like all of the rooms, red silk—Shanghai silk—predominated and there was an Oriental motif to the furnishings. Even the leads binding Jake's extremities to the four corners of the bed were made of red Shanghai silk.

Chad walked over and sat down on the bed beside Jake's bound body. Jake's head was turned toward him, his face showing a glassy-eyed expression, his face and back were covered with a thin veneer of sweat. A red-balled mouth gag lay close to his face, the red rubber almost bitten through, a sure sign that Jake's endurance had been taxed, even though Chad knew the ball gag hadn't been in long. The congressman was built big and he liked to listen to the virgins scream.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I took it well," Jake murmured to Chad. "I couldn't take it quietly."

"On the contrary, I think you took it just the way the client wanted."

Chad gave Jake a reassuring smile and patted him on the rump that was raised by a red silk wedge under his belly, which had presented Jake's ass for a good penetration angle from a man kneeling between his spread thighs. He let his hand glide down between the ass cheeks and felt the congressman's cum dribbling out of Jake's ass.

"He fucked me twice," Jake whimpered.

Not necessarily permitted, but Chad wasn't going to quibble with one of his best clients. "Yes, there's enough cum in your ass for that," he said. "Client's privilege. Get used to it."

Chad moved a finger into the passageway and Jake moaned for him. Letting the hand dip further down, he ran it along Jake's cock that had been pulled between his legs and was stretched out on the bed between his thighs. Chad checked for and found the cum from Jake on sheets below where his bulb lay. He encased the cock and stroked it, listening for and hearing Jake moan.

"You came for him, so you had pleasure too." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes, I guess."

Good, he thought—about the reengorging of Jake's cock and the evidence that he had come. It was important to Chad that the prostitute enjoy his work.

He looked over on the nightstand and saw the two hundred-dollar bills. Jake's tip from the congressman. The bill for the session had already been paid. It had been a hefty one, in keeping with involving the taking of a virgin ass.

"It was satisfactory for you, wasn't it?" he asked Jake after determining in his own mind that it had been.

"It hurt like hell . . . but, yes, it's what I wanted. Was it like this for you too, the first time. Or have you never . . .?"

"Yes, Jake, there was a first time for me too. Not now. Now I only top. But there was a first time being taken for me too. It gets easier. In time it will be a snap for you." And it was much more like this than I'll admit to you, he went on to think.

On the proverbial bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire in an ornate fireplace in his parents' European-style mansion in the hills above the Shanghai Bund, where his father had managed an export house. He'd been summoned home from his university studies at Cambridge by the tragic boating accident on the Yangtze River that had taken both of his parents' lives, leaving him an only child. Not exactly an orphan as he was eighteen. But alone and unprotected in the world just the same. And on the other side of the world from his world—in China.

The family's Chinese lawyer, Bao Chuan, taking advantage of the grieving young man. Hogtying him on the rug in front of the fireplace. A red silk scarf—strong Shanghai silk—run behind Chad's neck, binding his wrists on either side of his neck and continuing down and binding his ankles, immobilizing his movement. A red silk pillow under the small of his back, presenting his virginal hole for Bao Chuan's cock, his mouth initially gagged with a red silk scarf, but later taken away so that Bao Chuan could hear his screams of taking.

Bao Chuan taking him swiftly the first time, once the laborious chore of getting inside him was accomplished. Barebacking him, filling his passage with cum. Then rising and sitting in a wing chair by the fireplace, drinking Chad's father's best brandy, while watching and leering at Chad, laying, still bound on his side, panting and crying, the gag back in place because Bao Chuan didn't want to hear what Chad had to say. Fucking Chad again there, more slowly, Chad moaning and, to his shame, beginning to enjoy the fuck, having fantasies of his fulfilled. And then a third time before he was released from the bindings by the fireplace.

Chad was bareback fucked through the night on his parents' bed, spread-eagled, tied off at the four corner posters with strong red Shanghai silk scarves. To his shame, Chad readily hardened and ejaculated for Bao Chuan again and again, and, by the morning, totally cowed and resigned to what couldn't be recovered, he was clinging to the man and begging for his cock again—and also for the guilt-ridding bondage. Bao Chuan held Chad as his sexual slave for four days and nights, teaching Chad everything he knew, in his refined experience in bondage sex, concerning how to please him and other men.

Such was Chad's total surrender to Bao Chuan that by the third day, Bao was letting the young man bind and bareback him too, with Bao teaching Chad the nuances of being an arousing, masterful taker.

On the fifth day, Chad was taken by Bao Chuan into the Shanghai red-light district and sold to Sung Li, head of a traditional Chinese drama troupe housed in a male prostitute brothel, where Chad learned not only to act the part of a mincing female character—all of the characters in a traditional Chinese drama being played by men—but also to service any theater patrons made randy by his performance. There seemed to be no end of Chinese patrons willing to pay high fees to either bareback or be barebacked by a young, handsome, hung European.