Making Number Nine

Boyd Blake hadn’t done this before. He’d never had to do anything like this before. Sure, he was gay and he bottomed occasionally for other guys his age, most of them other soccer players on the Temple men’s squad. Yes, he engaged in casual sex, but he hadn’t done it for money before. But here he was, posing against a wall in an “I’m available” stance in Bangkok’s Patpong red-light district. He had arrived by train that morning, penniless, on the lam from a casino bill he couldn’t cover in Malaysia’s Genting Highlands. He was on a West-to-East college freshman-to-sophomore trip with some other guys on the soccer team, but the others had all given up in Singapore and gone home. He’d continued on. He’d only made it this far, thanks to the gambling bug in the Genting Highlands. He didn’t know where his next meal was coming from and where he could bunk tonight. He cabled his parents from the train station. They’d come through, but how soon?

As a Grecian good-looks, blond, blue-eyed athletic fit nineteen-year-old, Boyd was sure he wouldn’t have to pose long against a wall in Patpong to attract business, especially as a blond, young farang–Westerner–in an Asian city, and he didn’t have to today.

“Hello, are you for hire? May I take you for a drink?” The voice had a heavy Germanic accent to it. The man was a muscular thug–beefed up and covered with tattoos. He was wearing shorts on gigantically muscled thighs, sneakers without socks, and a filled-out mesh T-shirt that revealed the all-over tattooing on a body-builder’s torso.

Boyd shuddered, but Boyd needed another meal and some money to get him through the next night. “I’d like something from that noodle stand over there more than a drink.”

“I pay for a meal and then a drink in that bar over there and then they have rooms upstairs. I take you up there and give you a workout, Ja? We see what you can do, Ja? How much?” Boyd knew the bar the man was pointing to was a gay bar; that’s why he’d stationed himself here.

Boyd had no idea what to charge men for sex in Bangkok and it showed in that the price he quoted was immediately accepted. It seemed high to him and would, he thought, last him a couple of days while waiting for money from home to come through. When his parents sent him money now, it would be enough for him to get home on straightaway from here. By now they would have learned that the other college guys had bailed on the trip and he was traveling by himself. And if they did send him enough for a plane ticket home from here, he’d go.

On stools at the noodle stand, where Fritz–the German claiming to be a tourist himself, but he wasn’t–joined Boyd in a bowl of noodles, Boyd pretty much spilled the beans on his predicament.

“Traveling alone and you’ve run out of money?” the German asked. “Nicht gut–not good. Perhaps I can help. But let’s have a drink and then go upstairs and we’ll see what is what.”

In a small room with little more than a bed above the gay bar, Fritz fucked the stuffing out of Boyd such as Boyd had never had happened before. Fritz was a pro. Boyd was athletic enough to go with the man through the initial bent-over-the-bed doggy fuck, with the German crouched over the young man’s hips, riding him high like a jockey would, and holding Boyd’s wrists over his head and pressed to the mattress while Fritz rode him hard with a thick, if not appreciably long cock. And Boyd stayed with the man through a missionary, where he lay on his back, holding his own legs extended and raised, while Fritz clutched his throat with one hand, controlling the young man’s breathing, and stroked Boyd off with the other while he was vigorously thrust hard up into him.

But, after that, Boyd said he thought that was enough, gathered up his clothes and headed for the door.

“I decide when it’s enough,” Fritz growled. He lashed out, slapping Boyd across the face with an open palm and, with a surprised grunt, Boyd went down. Fritz hauled him up by the hair, gave him a mild punch in the face, more to surprise and to cow than the damage, and slammed him up against the wall next to the door to the corridor. Much the stronger of the two, the German pulled Boyd up, back to wall, hooked the young man’s knees on his hips, put his erection in place, penetrated, and fucked Boyd against the wall. When he was done, he let Boyd sink to the floor.

“As I said, we’re done when I’m done.”

Boyd answered with a moan.

“Say it. Tell me I’m done when I’m done.”

“You’re done when you’re done,” Boyd answered, weakly.

“Gut. Now, we were putting you through your paces; seeing what you can do for a man.”

They weren’t done for another hour. Fritz took the young blond sitting on the side of the bed, with Boyd in his lap, facing him, Fritz pulling him on and off the cock with a strong hand pressing on the young man’s tailbone. And Fritz took Boyd, with Boyd on his back and Fritz’s knees and beefy thighs pushed far under the young man’s buttocks, lifting Boyd’s Kemer travesti hips high, Boyd’s arms raised over his head, his hands clutching the rungs of the bed’s headboard to help steady himself from the bouncing of the German’s deep thrusting as Fritz pressed Boyd down with one hand on his sternum and the other hand stroking Boyd off for the second time.

After this, Fritz barked, “Stay exactly like that. I want to check something out. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He left the room and Boyd heard him stomp down the stairs into the gay bar.

When he came back, he brought another guy with him–somebody European in his forties, a little chunky, and muttering about his good fortune. Fritz pointed to Boyd and said, “Fuck him if you want. Do him in a way you like.” To Boyd, he said, “Ja, I’ll pay extra.”

Boyd was too wiped out to object. He just lay there on his back, legs spread, feet flat on the mattress, panting, arms flung out from his sides.

“A missionary. Can I do him in a missionary?”

“Anyway you like. You got a big one there. Make him squeal.” Then he continued, barking the order at Boyd, “Lift your tail for him.”

The other guy, his trousers and briefs off, climbed up on the bed between Boyd’s thighs. With a low moan, Boyd did as directed, elevating his pelvis with leverage from his feet. The other guy put himself into position, mounted, and penetrated Boyd’s channel, and fucked him to an ejaculation, which didn’t take long as revved up as he was by having been given the opportunity. Boyd just lay there, docilely, letting the guy fuck him.

When the other dude was finished and gone, Fritz said, “I wanted see how you’d take two guys in a row. You did good.”

Boyd had never had sex like this before and was wiped out, totally exhausted, at the end of the two hours. During the last fuck he just lay there, open and vulnerable, taking the thrusts of the thick strokes and the lust in the eyes of the heavily tattooed and muscular German looking down into his face to enjoy the young man’s mixed expressions of suffering and of being fucked better than he ever had before. There was no fight left in Boyd. He had surrendered. He was conquered.

Fritz fucked on for several more minutes before releasing his seed. He had barebacked Boyd.

Fritz’s comment was, “Ja, you take it well. You’re a good lay. Strong enough to take dick. And such a pretty boy. The Thai will love laying you.”

“Is that… can I have my money now and we’re done.”

“Ja, we’re done now, you and I. But there’s someone I want you to see. I’ll give you your money when we’ve gone to see him. We’re going to able to ask for more money than you said you’ll go for. You’ll be worth gold here in Bangkok.”

“We?” Boyd asked. “Are you–?”

“Yes. I’m in procurement. I won’t be your pimp, but I’ll take you where you need to go. You can only be run by a Thai.”

* * * *

“This is Tanat,” Fritz said when he’d taken Boyd to the Relax Massage Parlor, which was, more functionally described, a gay nightclub with an all-male brothel above it, on Thanon Rama III on the banks of the Chao Phraya River across from Wat Arun, a major Buddhist temple. Having said that, Fritz withdrew and Boyd didn’t see him ever again. The young American still hadn’t been paid for the fuck by the procurer Fritz and friend.

Fritz wasn’t a German tourist in Bangkok. He obviously was a procurer for an all-male brothel, run by this Tanat guy. Tanat was a no-nonsense, solidly built, if going a bit to the heavy, Thai pushing fifty. His hair was going to gray, and within a few years his waistline would go to pot, but for now he strong and capable, every inch the calculating manager in charge.

“So, you are need of some ready cash, I’m told,” he said to Boyd as they sat in the sparsely attended nightclub during the afternoon hours. The place would be packed at night, but now, at least downstairs, it was being attended by a stripped-down crew. Included in those stripping down were two young, Thai pole dancers, who were receiving most of the attention of the few men sitting at the tables below the platforms. Some attention was being directed to Boyd as well, with several patrons considering him more worthy of their interest than the Thai pole dancers were. A good-looking, blond farang–Western foreigner–especially one found in a gay nightclub and brothel, would always garner attention in Bangkok.

“I haven’t been paid by the German who brought me here,” Boyd said. “If I can get that money, I should be OK for a few days.”

“You’ll want to be OK for more than a few days in Bangkok. You’ve come so far from the States already. You’ll want to be in Bangkok for a while to enjoy the delights of Asia. And, in terms of delights, you could do real well here. See how the men look at you. How much does Fritz owe you?”

Boyd named the amount and Tanat laughed. “I will pay you twice that–plus give you what Fritz owes you–if you go upstairs Kemer travestileri with me now for an hour or so.”

“Or so?” Boyd said. “What’s upstairs?”

“I think you know what’s upstairs, and I’ll pay by the hour, so if I and my friends enjoy playing with you the ‘or so’ could go on for a while.”

“You and your friends?” Boyd asked.

“You’re not going to play fuckin’ innocent lamb about this, are?”

Boyd didn’t snap back. He didn’t have his money from Fritz yet. Tanat was all business. He wasn’t absolutely direct, but he was pretty clear in what was being proposed here.

“I’m not a whore,” Boyd said, persistently. “I need some money, yes, but I don’t do this for pay. I did it for the German for pay and that’s owed to me. If you will just–“

“The German didn’t pick you out of a church, did he? He told me you were trying to turn tricks in front of a gay bar.”

“Yes, I was,” Boyd admitted.

“Then shut the fuck up about the Mr. Innocence game. You will have to go upstairs with me to be given what Fritz owes you. And then you’ll have much more as well. It’s a good thing that you are not a professional at this. Three, four hours upstairs and you’ll be able to enjoy Bangkok for a couple of weeks.”

“Three or four hours?” Boyd asked.

“Yes, just half a day.” Tanat called a thuggish-looking bulky Thai guy in a suit over and spoke to him in Thai. “Terīym h̄̂xng h̄ı̂ pheụ̄̀xn xmerikạn h̄nùm k̄hxng reā thī̀ nī̀ tạ́k k̄heā ca xyū̀ kạb reā s̄ạk phạk–Prepare a room for our young American friend here, Tak. He’ll be with us for a while.” He didn’t translate what he’d said for the young American.

Boyd was apprehensive as he was being guided up the stairs to the brothel level by Tanat, who was guiding the young man with a hand on his buttocks. But what could Boyd do? He needed the money and the money already earned by him hadn’t been delivered to him and wouldn’t be unless and until he’d given out again. And what did it matter, he’d given out to the German? It wasn’t like he’d be losing anything to give out again. And he’d be leaving here with far more money than he’d negotiated with the German for.

If, of course, he’d be leaving here.

* * * *

“Wow,” Boyd said when they entered the second-floor room with a covered patio overlooking the Chao Phraya River and the Wat Arun temple on the other bank of the river. The room was done in white and silver with partitions of etched glass between the bedroom and the silver-tiled walled bath and then out onto the terrace that included a square white-marble jacuzzi bath, filled with bubbling water, with red rosebuds floating on the surface. The bedroom was dominated by a king-sized bed, white-silk sheets, and with silver chains hanging from the ceiling and attached to the bed in a configuration obviously designed to bind a submissive many different ways. A sling done in silver leather was suspended by chains in a corner of the room. A long, low white credenza running across the wall opposite to the glass looking into the bathroom was covered with implements of sexual taking–condom packets, lube bottles, dildos, nipple chains, butt plugs, hand whips, floggers, and so forth, all very artfully arranged. There also were small photos on stands showing the toys in use. They looked like they were instructional material.

When Tanat entered the room, there also were two attendants there, standing by the door when they entered. They were both handsome, muscular, Asian men no older than thirty and were bare-chested, with silver sarongs around their waists that hung low on their hips and descended to their ankles.

“Well, my young, blond farang, let’s see what you can do for us,” Tanat said. “Intorn, Sirichai, Phā k̄hæk tạw n̂xy k̄hxng reā pị xāb n̂ả læa l̂āng læa bæ̀ngpạn k̄heā–Intorn and Sirichai, take our young guest into the shower and wash and share him. Turn the video cameras on before you get started.” Tanat did not provide the English translation, and Boyd only found out the full meaning of what he said after enduring the embarrassment of the two hunky Thai men stripping off their sarongs, guiding him into the shower, which was separated from the bedroom only by an etched-glass partition etched with the image of a very fit young man masturbating. The two worked efficiently together to soap Boyd–and each other–up and rinse off. It didn’t stop there, though. Boyd experience his first double-penetration sex–but not his last of the day–while they were rinsing off. Intorn embraced him from behind, made him bend over, and mounted and penetrated him from the rear. Then Sirichai came in to him from the front, lifted Boyd’s legs, hooking his knees on the Thai stud’s hips, entered him on top of Sirichai’s cock, and the two fucked him together. The did it in slow, smooth motions that almost had Boyd penetrated before he realized what they were doing. Another Asian man came into the bathroom with a video camera to augment the stationary Travesti kemer cameras in recording the shower scene DP.

Tanat sat in a chair, enveloped by a white silk robe, facing the shower partition, and stroking his shaft, watching the panting, grimacing, groaning Boyd receive his first double.

When Boyd hobbled out of the shower, being supported between Intorn and Sirichai, Tanat was no longer sitting in a chair in the bedroom. He called from the covered terrace where he had slipped off his robe and gone into the jacuzzi. It was his turn to try Boyd’s charms and endurance out. The two attendants put Boyd into the jacuzzi, where Tanat pulled him into this lap, facing away from him, and onto his cock. Holding the young American to him with an arm around his waist, he pulled Boyd’s channel down on his cock, and, with Boyd remaining docile and moaning, lifted and lowered the young American on the shaft, helped by the moving water current in the pool. Tanat invited Sirichai to join them, and Boyd was doubled for a second time, sitting on Tanat’s cock, facing away from him, and Sirichai saddling up to him in front, with Boyd’s legs raised and spread and his ankles hooked on the edge of the sides of the jacuzzi.

Both the solo work with Tanat and the doubling with Tanat and Sirichai were caught on video.

He was doubled for the third and forth time on the large bed, in varying combinations of Tanat, Intorn, and Sirichai sharing him. Later in the evening, each of the Thai men took Boyd for a spin in the sling, using a variety of the sex toys displayed on the white credenza.

Enough video was being collected, Tanat said, for a full-length film for a local gay male Web site service.

As twilight was falling, Tanat declared Boyd fit for the job. “Dī k̄heā thn k̄heā rạb wị̂ xỳāng dī læa k̄heā ca dị̂ rạb khwām niym xỳāng māk–Very good. He takes it well and he will be very popular.”

Again, Boyd had no idea what Tanat had said.

“Reā ca pl̀xy h̄ı̂ k̄heā phạkp̄h̀xn s̄ạk s̄xng s̄ām chạ̀wmong mạn ca yùng pramāṇ theī̀yng khụ̄n. K̄heā ca khûm kh̀ā kạb kār lngthun–We’ll let him rest for a few hours. It gets busy around midnight. He will be worth the investment.” Tanat didn’t bother to translate this either, but he did tell Boyd, “You may rest for a while now. You did very well.”

As they were leaving the room, with Boyd lying, legs spread, on the bed, still panting and moaning, Tanat said, “When we come back you will be wearing that black satin bikini on the credenza over there–with the medallion pinned to it.”

When he was able, Boyd rolled out of the bed, and pulled the bikini briefs on. The medallion had a “9” in large font embossed it. After pulling it on, he went back to the bed and slept the sleep of the dead into the dark of the night.

They came for him after midnight and took him up to the top floor. The large space up there was divided into three sections. In the middle was some sort of lounge area where men were milling about and looking through glass into the other two sections that were on either side of this section. One of the glassed-in areas housed women just in bikini bottoms, lounging around on divans or posing standing. The other side, where Boyd was taken, housed only young men, who, like him, wore only in bikini bottoms. They were lounging and posing as the women in the other section did. All of them in both sections had the numbered medallions pinned to their bikinis.

Tanat and a few other men were roaming the central section, speaking with the men who were dividing themselves between ogling the women in one glass section and the men in the other. Almost all of those in the glassed-in section were Asian and most all of them were good-looking and had good bodies. Boyd was a standout, though, both as a Westerner and as an extraordinarily good-looking blond.

The men milling around in the center section seemed to concentrate on ogling the Asian men or women if they were farangs–Westerners–but the Asian men in the center section were focusing their attention the few farangs, like Boyd, who were on display.

Boyd was only in his glass cage for ten or eleven minutes when he saw a middle-aged, heavy Thai guy pull Tanat aside and the two of them were scrutinizing Boyd. Tanat put a microphone to his mouth and the speaker in the glass cage rang forth with a “Number Nine. Number Nine. Come to the exit door.”

The middle-aged Thai watched Boyd slowly make his way to the door. The man was all grins and anticipation. As Boyd reached them, the Thai patron slipped a possessing hand underneath the material of Boyd’s bikini bottoms and squeezed a butt cheek. An attendant guided them out of the selection area to a private room.

Once more they were on a covered balcony off a private bedchamber, overlooking the Chao Phraya River at night, Wat Arun lit up in lights across the river. They were in a small jacuzzi, Boyd, belly down, draped over the side, arms dangling to the tiles, dimly focused, resigned eyes facing the river. The hefty Thai was crouched behind him in the jacuzzi, holding the young man down with palms pressed into where Boyd’s arms connected to his shoulders, making the water churn by his vigorous efforts of fucking Boyd from the rear.