by beltedone
He opened the red door and was about to walk in when a big guy wearing a cowboy hat and boots burst out the door yelling in a Texas accent, “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with some people. The sign said free massage. If it’s free, it’s free. I don’t give a damn about some survey.”
The cowboy stormed out the door, almost knocking him over. He knew the guy had to be a tourist and wondered if he should leave before getting into some type of altercation with the owner.
He walked into the office that was decorated in old Chinese-restaurant leftovers and red wallpaper and said to the pretty older Asian lady at the desk, “Hi, the sign said free massages. Am I in the right place? That guy looked pretty pissed.”
The hostess looked up from her paperwork, smiled and said in very precise English with a Chinese accent, “Do not concern yourself with him. He would not finish our health quiz. The quiz is mandatory.”
She leaned over close to him and said in a conspiratorial manner, “We suspected he had a social disease. We are quite careful about that sort of thing.”
Reassured, he smiled.
She told him to sit down, so he can fill out the paperwork. After a day on the street getting rejected by every corporation in the city, it felt great to sit and relax.
He was given a clipboard with some questions on it.
“What is this? I don’t understand. A Health Survey?”
She smiled at him, again showing off her small, perfect white teeth that, for some reason, seemed very sharp, and said, “That is why the massage is free. We are a new organization trying to understand our customer base. We are giving massages away all week to find out what our customers want in a massage parlor. Just fill it out, and you can go in the back.”
At that moment, a gorgeous, young Asian woman, not more than 21, in a form-fitting multi-patterned kimono, which didn’t adequately cover her lush body, came out from behind a curtain and said, “Madame Lee, is my 1:00 pm client here yet? It’s been really slow today.”
Madame Lee said, “No, but you can have this one when he finishes the survey.”
The masseuse looked at the applicant, smiling provocatively and said, “He looks cute. We will have a lot of fun.”
He shyly smiled at her. His hormones were kicking into high gear. He couldn’t wait to get through with the form and into the back room. It had been a long time since he had been with a real woman and not an impersonal pay-for-services cyberslut.
Taking an offered pencil, he started the survey. The first few questions were easy enough, like age, height, weight, sexual orientation, and health history, but as he got further into the survey, it got decidedly weirder. One question threw him: “Have you ever had a fantasy about dressing as a woman?” And the next question was, “Did you ever wear your mother’s clothes? Have you ever fantasied about having sex with a man?” Pretty personal stuff.
He put down the pencil and said, “Uh, this stuff if pretty personal. Do I have to answer it?”
The hostess said, “If you want a free massage, you have to answer all the questions. Then, initial here and put in your email address, so we can follow up. All survey answers are kept confidential and are only used for marketing purposes.”
Embarrassed at the personal questions, he finally finished and gave the survey back to the hostess.
She said, “Ah, I see you are right for the free massage. You are the correct height and weight and have no sexually transmitted diseases. Please, step this way.”
He walked through the curtain, down a corridor, and into a room on the left. There were hooks for his clothes and a large, padded massage table. He was left alone with instructions to disrobe and climb onto the padded table on his stomach with the towel over his butt. He was careful to put his one interview suit on the hooks so it wouldn’t get wrinkled.
Buck naked, he looked at himself in the wall-mounted mirror. He was skinny and short. He looked more like a boy than a man. His wispy mustache that he wore to make himself look older just made him look like a pre-teen trying to look older.
He heard the masseuse talking to Madame Lee in whispered tones then she entered.
“Hello, handsome,” she said. “I’m going to make you feel really good today. Madame Lee said you should get the special. The special is reserved for only the best clients. You must have really done well on your survey. By the way, I am Kim. I will bring you to heaven today.”
He told her his name and shifted a bit on the table in anticipation. She told him to move on the padded table so his groin was in the crack between two sections. His balls and cock fell into a pocket in the table. That felt weird.
Kim put on some soothing Asian music and lit a candle that made the room smell like a flower. She dimmed the lights. In the near darkness, in the tight dress, she seemed like a beautiful Bond girl come to life.
She said, “I’m warming the special oil for you right now. I like it warm. Do you like it warm? Warm places on a woman’s body? The warm feeling when a woman takes your member into her mouth?”
Embarrassed, he said, “No, I mean, I never, that is it probably feels good. I mean, oh shit.”
Kim giggled at his discomfort.
His cock was twitching at the thought of the warm oil on his body. He had never had a real massage, and he could just imagine what it would feel like.
When she put her hands on him, it was pure magic. Her fingers danced over his body like she was playing a musical instrument. Immediately, he started to relax as her strong but gentle fingers probed the tight spots and released the knots. She started at his neck and ever so slowly worked down his entire body not avoiding his cute rear. Fact was, his only good feature was a full, round, cute tush that was very girlish.
He felt so mellow and good and very, very horny just from her touch on his neck, back, and shoulders. He felt looser and looser. He could hardly move after a few minutes of having the sensual oil massaged into his arms and legs. She worked the oil into his legs and thighs, never touching his most sensitive areas, and the tease was slowly driving him crazy. He was floating in heaven.
When she started on his butt cheeks, he was in heaven. Ever so slowly, she worked toward his crack. He had never been touched by a woman there and was feeling the most wonderful stimulation. She even went so far as to tease his butt hole, and he had never felt anything like it. He groaned in frustration when she stopped.
She was good with the banter too. Telling him how sexy and cute he was. That short men were sexy. She would ask him questions like had he ever been mistaken for a girl because he was short and thin? Did he ever play a girl in theater or school?
That seemed weird. He said that he was hit on a few times by guys which upset him, because he was heterosexual not gay. He was a guy not a girl.
His brain was swimming. Pleasure like he had never felt before was washing over him. The massage was acting like a truth serum on him. He was telling her his most intimate secrets like they were old friends. He noticed that if he did not answer, Kim would slow down or stop the massage. As soon as he answered, she would continue. Thus, he was subtly being trained.
Kim said, “Okay, sexy lover boy. Time to roll over.”
He tried, but for some reason, he couldn’t. He couldn’t move his limbs, and for a moment, he thought he had had a stroke. “What the hell?”
Kim just smiled and said, “Oh, did I fail to tell you? That massage oil has a paralytic in it. A very ancient Chinese herb that will render you helpless for hours.”
He tried with all his might to move, but he was a prisoner in his own body.
“Let me up. Why are you doing this? I don’t have any money.”
Kim called to Madame Lee, “He is ready.” She pushed a button on the massage table.
He felt something move, and his balls and cock in the little pocket in the table were entrapped as if a hand had closed tightly on them.
He yelled, “Help,” but Kim came around to the front of him with a bit of massage oil.
“Can�
��t let all that noise disturb the customers, honey.” She spread a bit of oil on his lips, and his mouth soon became slack. He couldn’t form words. His drool fell to the ground. With his panicked eyes, he looked at Kim. He was as helpless as a babe. He feared they were about to remove an organ from him.
Kim smiled at him, and Madame Lee arrived with a cardboard box.
She said, “You wanted a happy ending. And a happy ending definitely will be involved. Of course, you won’t be the one who gets it. A certain clientele will pay nicely for a virgin or near virgin ass and mouth. The fact that you have never been touched and your rear never used is just a bonus. You are very tight. We’ll get a good price for you.
“Now, here are the rules. Behave and you will be fine. Men and women will come in. They will use you. Some your rear. Some your mouth. Some both. Do this well and you get to leave at the end of the night. Do I make myself clear? Blink if you understand.”
Angry and frustrated, he blinked.
Madame Lee went over to the massage table and pressed the button.
The pocket that held his balls and penis got even smaller. He could feel his balls being crushed. All he could do is grunt.
Madame Lee smiled and said, “Good boy. I can make the pocket your precious jewels are in much smaller if I want. I am going to make you over as a girl. Since you’re face down on the table, we won’t have to do your front, but we will have to shave you, put garters and stocking on you. We will do your hair and face. I was trained in Kabuki in Japan and can make a man into a very pretty woman.”
While she worked on his body, she talked casually to her victim like he was an old friend and they were having tea.
“You know, little one, there is a tale told in my country of China about a time very long ago when the land was ruled by vicious warlords. One amassed a fortune through the slave labor of his conquered peoples and named himself emperor. He was a cruel, evil man who delighted in subjugation and humiliation. He ruled with an iron fist and many died for the smallest infraction. Fear was his weapon of choice. He was a man of many unnatural appetites and consorted with sorcerers. It is said demons themselves did his bidding.
“He had a garden built. It was ringed by strange green stones from a long-abandoned, some say haunted, quarry. It is said it was the most beautiful garden in all of China. It was all perfect, green lawns, flowering plants with the most amazing scents and colors and perfectly pruned bushes and trees. There were koi ponds and small waterfalls. The paths were made from the special green stones placed in a pattern pleasing to his evil gods. A staff of 100 gardeners attended it at all times. It was a tranquil thing of beauty. It is said that it was always spring in the garden and the flowers were always in bloom. Even nature herself bowed before this man.
“In the garden, he had the strangest sculptures placed. They were pieces of wrought iron shaped like fierce animals. They were cages in the shape of the animal. Some were tigers, some lions, some panthers, some fierce monkeys. There must have been 20 or 30 of them, for the garden was very large. Some of the iron sculptures where placed discreetly behind plantings. Others were in plain site in a field-like setting. They were anchored into the ground by huge blocks of stone.
“All of his retainers wondered about the animals made of iron. There was a hinge on the beasts so that they could be opened like a clamshell. People thought that he would put the actual beast in the iron, so he would have fierce beasts in his garden for people to marvel at. This was not the case. He scoured the land for the most beautiful men and women in the kingdom. His soldiers tore them from their families. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, all were led to his palace if they were handsome or comely. He had them stripped and locked in the cages for that is what they were, cages for his amusement.
“Then, he would wander his tranquil garden at the evening hour and use the men and women he found there to his heart’s content. For you see, he had made sure the iron workers had left holes at the proper places for the emperor to insert his member. The victims, you see, could not move in the cages. The cages were too confining.
“Their screams could be heard throughout the capital city. To this day, it is called the wind of sorrows. Sometimes, he would invite his captains to sample the joys of his tiger garden. It was a reward for a job well done. It was considered impolite to refuse and could get one executed.
“He boasted to his rich friends how he seasoned his captives. He’d deny them food and water for a few days. Besides being in one painful position in the animal cages, they were exposed to the weather and felt the cold of the night and the heat of the day. After a few days of this, most would comply with all his requests for entrance to their bodies.
“The ones who did not comply were executed. That was a lesson the survivors took to heart. The very best ones, whose mouths and other orifices pleased him the most, he would grant freedom but only after they were branded on their rear with the mark of the animal that they were caged in. It marked them as being used by the emperor and pleasing to him and told everyone of their shame, of what they must have done willingly to please him so. Thousands entered the cages. Hundreds came out alive. By law, none with the mark could marry or have relations with the unmarked. Some died lonely deaths driven to the edge of the city by the upright citizens of the city, living on scraps and charity. Some became the special ones what you call in the west, saints, helping people in need. Tending to the sick. Caring for abandoned children. Each took the experience and used it in a different way. Some sank into despair, some rose to the heavens. It is the choice we each make to deal with the things that happen to us.
“In the end, the emperor’s debaucheries grew worse and worse until he disgusted his captains with his actions so much that they seized him, striped him and put him in a tiger cage. Many of his victims were encouraged to come back and inflict revenge, but all said he was too evil and diseased in his soul to approach. They left him there to starve to death, a bowl of water and some rice just out of his reach. One could hear his screams and pleading all over the city. To this day, there is a type of breeze that blows through that city with a mournful cry that they call the Emperor Son wind.
“So you see, little one, there are worse things than a few hours of defilement. You will survive.” She stroked his new glossy black wig affectionately. “Maybe, you will grow stronger. What is it your western philosopher says, ‘What does not kill me makes me stronger.’ Consider that there must be the tension of the insult before the healing begins.”
Soon, he had beautiful black curly hair, long black eyelashes, his wispy mustache was gone, full makeup, long fingernails and painted toenails. His lips were painted a fuck-me red. He was wearing sheer black stockings and satin panties. There were tears in his eyes. He felt helpless like he had never felt before. He tried with all his might to move, but he was literally a prisoner of his body. Madame Lee showed him his face in a small mirror, and he was a stunning woman. That was an incredible shock to his system. He was a very pretty woman.
Madame Lee said, “You see, little one. You were born to be a pretty girl.”
A small doorbell rang, and Madame Lee said, “Ah, I think that is our first customer now.”
For the next four hours, he was in a hell of his own making. He was not gay. He never had any feeling for another male, but males used him and used him well. There was even a bachelorette party that delighted in reaming him. He thought he’d go insane from the constant pounding into his face and ass.
It began with the first guy, the cowboy who had stormed off in a huff. He came in. The door opened so his first view was of our subject’s spread rear. He said, “Whee-hee. Now, that’s more like it!”
Kim explained that this was a prime virgin ass he was to deflower, and of course, a special charge would apply.
The big guy couldn’t give the thousands, yes thousands, to Kim fast enough. He was instructed that he must use a condom and lube and that he couldn’t do anything to harm the girl.
Kim stayed to
see that he was okay. She even applied a little more paralytic to this rear so that all the muscles would be relaxed. Her fingers expertly entered him with the oil. She massaged his prostate a few times for good measure and watched him give in to the pleasure.
“See, little one. It is not all pain. You might like it.”
He barely felt the long, thick, hard cock go in. For him, it was just another fucking. He’d been fucked all his life; this was just the first time it was real. It didn’t take long before the Texan was bucking, whooping, and yelling like he was taming a bronco.
The subject did feel something—a rather pleasurable sensation as the thick member rubbed against his prostate. The subject felt his member harden in his prison, which must have been clear plastic, because Kim said at one point, “Seems both of you are enjoying the attention.” She giggled and the subject died of embarrassment.
The Texan slumped against his back for a few minutes.
The subject thought it was over. It had just began.
“You say she has never tasted cum?”
“No, we are sure she has not.”
“We’re going to have to do something about that.”
The subject was panicking in his brain. He tried to struggle but couldn’t. He was still a prisoner. He groaned inside.
The rapist came to the front of him. He had not even bothered to take off his jeans. His big, shiny belt buckle had a longhorn steer on it. The massive cock, still dripping cum, came closer and closer to his face, bobbing in front of his face.
Kim said, “You still have to wear a condom, but you can give her a taste of your fluid.
The Texan said, “Sounds like a plan, darling.”
He took a big dollop of cum from the end of his cock onto his finger and put it on the subject’s lips.
“How does that taste, girl?”
The subject was only able to let a tear roll down his eye. He could sense the salty mucous-like nature of it and thought it was gross. It was the first time he had ever tasted cum but far from the last.
