Another First Time Ch. 07

Oh, hell, Trent thought. What if he knows about Shé too. He brought his torso up, threw his arms around Maurice's neck, and took Maurice's mouth in his in a deep kiss. He could always count on Maurice having the hots for him. It worked this time too. In short order, Maurice was inside him and pumping.

"You will never do anything like that again without my permission," Maurice growled, as he pounded Trent's ass.

Only when a good rhythm had been established, did Trent look over Maurice's shoulder to see that the agent standing at attention, but with his hand on his package, was of Chinese origin. Why, Trent wondered were there so many Chinamen entering his life on a Mediterranean island?

This was answered as far as the agent was concerned an hour later when, the agent still standing by the door, Maurice and Trent were sitting at a small table and Maurice was summarizing the coming operation.

"Macao? Why Macao?" Trent asked.

"That's where the action will be. It's a two-pronged operation. The primary target is an Indian, Ran Singh, who is creating havoc by hacking into the classified sites of several countries. He's working on a formula to beat the bank at casinos and has bought a plane ticket to Macao. We can't touch him where he is, but we certainly can in Macao."

"And I come in on it how?"

"The usual way. Singh apparently likes deflowering virgins. You are to be his virgin until we put him out of commission. You'll be working in the casino."

"And the other operation?"

"Iffier and more dangerous. The owner of the casino we think Singh will be targeting is a sex slave trader—both women and men. We want to use you to entrap him."

"That does sound dangerous."

"Which makes you more interested in the assignment, doesn't it?"

Trent couldn't say no.

"We will have agents in place to help protect you," Maurice continued. "They include Agent Wang here. He's been wanting to meet you. He's very interested in protecting your body. We think it's best that he become devoted to you."

Trent looked up and saw that Wang had already dropped his trousers and had his cock in his hand.

"I will leave you two alone for a while—to become more devoted to each other," Maurice said. He stood and moved to the door, as, with a sigh, Trent moved to the bed, slipped his briefs down his legs, and bent over the mattress.

"Word to the wise, Wang," Maurice said. "Our young friend here likes it rough."

Trent just closed his eyes and thought of Shé and his eleven inches while Agent Wang doggy fucked him from behind. That possible myth was exploded in Trent's mind. Not all Chinamen were swinging eleven inches. Of course, Wang had his own charm in terms of girth. And he had stunned Trent with an initial fist to the solar plexus and dragging him up to the doggy opposition by his hair.

Although Trent couldn't deny that he increasingly was liking the rough-fuck approach as he became more and more jaded to the constant sex, he couldn't quite square it from Maurice and friends while they still wanted him to come across as the innocent with their marks.

* * * *

The plan to get Ran Singh to notice Trent and get the idea that he was virginal was risky, but it worked. Trent was embedded as both a waiter and a dealer at the Macao casino he was embedded in, a casino that specialized in gay services. The workers, all male and young, very presentable, and in great physical condition, wore sequined vests and diaphanous trousers over pouch bikinis. The colors varied. Trent's color was gold, which went with his sunny blond hair quite well.

Maurice's people found that, before he went to the casino floor to gamble and always win more than he lost by way of the formula he had devised through his computer hacking skills, Ran Singh liked to go to a bar in the casino where the waiters pole danced and sometimes were enticed in one of the back rooms for sex. So, they set up a passing of information that would interest Singh one evening when he was at the bar.

Agency operatives were salted among the bar's clientele, and when Trent came through with his trays with drink orders, they started calling for him to dance the pole. By custom, he couldn't refuse such a call when the room got behind it, so, looking embarrassed, he went up on a pole and did a sexy, but visually self-conscious dance, losing the diaphanous trousers in the process, but neither the vest nor the bikini briefs.

A plant in the audience called out, "You're a tease, but you're sexy as hell. I'll give you a blue chip to go to the back rooms with me."

Another plant called out, "I'll give you two blue chips."

Then the Agency's plant in the casino's management called out, "This one isn't on the servicing books yet. He's still a virgin."

"Three blue chips then," someone else yodeled.

"Come on. He's got to lose it sometime," exclaimed another plant in the audience.

"Yes, but not tonight," the casino manager said. "He's due at the casino tables in the next fifteen minutes. Catch him earlier tomorrow night."

With the manager's help, a blushing Trent, acting a bit fearful, was herded in the direction of the casino floor. Much to Maurice and company's relief, Ran Singh followed, making sure he sat at the table where Trent was dealing cards.

Singh won—and better than he was winning before. As he played, he and Trent exchanged glances of interest, with Trent blushing and looking down in submission whenever Singh caught his eye.

As Singh was finished at the table, he tossed a gold chip at Trent and asked, "When do you get off work? I'd like you to come to my room."

"Oh, we can't take tips from the players," Trent said, looking shy and pleased that he'd been asked.

"It wouldn't be a tip," Singh said. "You would have to work hard to earn it. I think you know what I want."

"I'm sorry. I've never . . . not yet . . ."

"But you have to give it up to continue working here, don't you?"

"Yes, but . . ."

Singh added a second gold chip to the first one. "This is a small fortune. It's yours if I will be the first one inside you. I will treat you well. Room 1076."

"Room 1076," Trent repeated. "I get off at 10:00 p.m."

"Perfect," Singh said.

Singh wasn't any older than his late twenties, he had a beautiful, slim, brown, hard body, and he fucked Trent sensually with an above-average cock in length, so Trent didn't have any trouble playing the role of an overwhelmed, aroused submissive being fucked for the first time.

After much fondling, kissing, roaming of his hands over Trent's body, and tongue work on Trent's asshole, Singh covered Trent doggy style while taking his time working his cock into the young man's passage—with Trent making all of the sounds and giving the visual reactions of a man being anally fucked for the first time. Then, as Trent sheathed the cock and settled down to accommodating it, Singh turned him to a missionary position so that they could look each other in the eyes and Singh could adjust his rhythm and depth to the mix of pain-pleasure signals Trent was giving him.

Afterward, stretched out against each other in a close embrace, Singh murmured, "Thank you for giving this to me. You are so sexy and you managed it well."

"It was wonderful," Trent answer. "I was so afraid . . . but . . . are you going to fuck me again?"

"Yes, of course, if you wish."

"May I try riding you?"

"Yes, I would like that."

After this the Indian computer hacker was putty in Trent's hands, although what had been maneuvered was for Singh to believe Trent was smitten by him.

"You won well this evening at the table," Trent whispered, "but I don't know if you knew that I helped you. I could help you make a one-time killing . . . if you'll take me with you when you leave."

Singh wasn't at all sure about taking Trent with him, but the one-time killing sounded like a great idea.

It turned out not so great an idea for Singh, though, as Trent ensured that Singh was caught in the act of trying to bilk the casino, and the casino, because this was remote Macao, took care of the problem itself—by feeding Singh to the sharks in the South China Sea.

This suited Maurice and the Agency quite well, as it took care of the Singh as a troublesome hacker problem, with someone else doing the dirty work.

What apparently hadn't been planned out too well—or so it seemed—was that Trent too was called on the carpet.

The casino owner had Trent stripped and hung on a hook in his office. After the owner had whipped him, he fucked Trent standing and from the rear. Then he ordered Trent turned over to the white slave operation for transport into China.

All the time this was going on, the Agency's operative, Wang, who had been the plant in casino management stood by and watched.

As Wang and two goons were hustling Trent down a back stairway to a waiting fishing boat to take him to the mainland, a moaning, bruised, and broken Trent was anticipating the cavalry to arrive and save him. But then he was on the boat, bound, and Wang was standing on the dock and giving him a hard look, the ship put to sea.

So this, Trent thought, was the Agency sendoff for him that the Mossad agent, Shé, had warned him would happen.

* * * *

Once on the mainland, Trent was on the road for more than a week, chained along with other young men and women of various nationalities in the back of a canvas-covered truck that must have once belonged to one army or another—an army that didn't believe in the luxury of shock absorbers. They were let down from the truck periodically to piss and defecate in trenches alongside the road and to eat rudimentary rations, composed mostly of dirty rice. Trent suffered the bumps in the road more than most as he had arrived beaten and with whip slashes.

Once at their destination, though, they were treated better and the conditions weren't so bad in the traditional Chinese compound house they were kept in. Trent only later learned that they'd been taken to Sian, in Szechuan Province, where control was still more by a traditional warlord than the central government. The goal apparently was to have them in pristine condition, as a doctor was brought in to attend to their hurts and ills, and eventually no one would have been able to tell from Trent's physical appearance that he had been beaten and whipped. He had emotional scars, though, and was withdrawn from everyone, including his fellow prisoners.

In the fourth week of captivity, they were taken to a more sumptuous, large room, lined with oriental carpets, where, on a raised platform them, one by one, were auctioned off to a line of expensively dressed and well-fed patrons, mostly middle-aged men, but also a few woman. They weren't all Chinese. There were some Caucasians among than and a couple of Africans.

By this point, however, Trent had lost all interest in his surroundings and what was happening to him. He had been suborned by the Agency, had done what the Agency had demanded of him, and had been betrayed and abandoned. They had turned him into a prostitute and then distained him for being what they made of him. He didn't much care what happened now.

Of course he should have. The lot for a male prostitute bought in the interior of China for service there or some other equally remote and primitive place was an especially demanding and taxing one. Chances were good that he would not have survived what would be done to him for more than a couple of months, if not weeks.

At that point he didn't care. But very quickly he did care, and he lifted is head to assure himself that the voice he thought he recognized was, in fact, Shé's, The ethnic Chinese agent of Israel's Mossad.

The bidding went high on him, both because he was such a perfectly formed young man and also, ironically, because he was being offered as a virgin, but Shé upped the bidding whenever it was required.

As Shé led Trent away to a waiting vehicle that would whisk him as far away as fast as possible, Shé turned to him and asked, "Have you reconsidered our offer to work with us?"

"Need you ask?" Trent replied.

"We'll keep you under wraps for a while and give you a new appearance. Your Agency colleagues won't have a clue you've come over to us—or even that you're still alive."

"That's comforting to know," Trent said. "And will someone be there to comfort me all that time?"

"I'll be there, with you. In you."

They both grinned.

-Fini-