Antiquer's Delights

James Tung had just raised his paddle to bid on what was claimed to have been a rosewood throne chair looted during the English expedition takeover of China's Imperial Summer Palace in 1860, when a willowy feminine figure slipped in beside him in the other chair he had reserved at the San Francisco auction house. Tung, a tall, gaunt, bald-headed Asian gentlemen of obvious command and wealth and handsome in an austere way, turned his head and looked at the new arrival with a piercing, assessing gaze.

"Cath?" he asked.

"Yes," came back the answer from a mere slip of a figure a good foot shorter than the Asian, dressed expensively in mostly black--a black suit with a skirt reaching just below the knees, and black mesh stockings, but with red highlights--a scarf around the shoulders, a red blouse under the suit, and red spike heels. The matching red of these matched the lipstick on generous lips. The black, wavy hair reached down to the shoulders. "Mr. Tung?"

"Yes. Shall we go for a drink?"

"You've bid on that chair. Don't you wish to stay through the bidding?"

"Not really. I was establishing interest for a friend. I have three like it in my shop on Grant Avenue."

Twenty minutes later, their drinks having been delivered, Tung leaned forward, placed a hand on Cath's knee under the table in the dimly lit Blue Lotus Lounge, sharpened his gaze, and eschewed chatty preliminaries. "You are quite beautiful. I was quite explicit in what I wanted. You have--?"

"Yes."

"Fully?"

"Yes, the works."

"How recently?"

"A year ago. All healed. Fully done." The fingernails scratching across the back of the fifty-year-old Asian's strong hand gripping the knee were long and enameled in the same vermillion as the lips. It was, in fact a masterful job.

"And endurance? I specified--?"

"If you can do it, I can take it."

"So, good. We will go to my Grant Avenue antique shop. There are private galleries--and rooms--above it."

"Certainly, Mr. Tung. Whatever you say... whatever you want."

James Tung smiled at Cath, for the first time breaking his ramrod-stiff, austere manner. The smile was closer to a lustful leer than anything else. "You will suffer deliciously," he murmured.

"As you wish," she answered.

* * * *

"The galleries are in front and my in-town apartment is at the back," Tung said, as he guided Cath up the stairs to the second floor of the Grant Avenue Chinese Antique shop. The material was tight across Cath's buttocks. Tung was guiding her with the palm of his hand applied there, and Cath was not resisting. "As you can see, I handle as much artwork as antiques. The art and antiques up here are more specialized to the tastes of my major buyers, and some of it, as you will see, isn't shown to just anyone."

Cath could see why. As they moved further from the front from one gallery to another and Tung turned lights on in entering and off in leaving, the art became more explicit and moved into the pornographic. At last they arrived at the Shunga art--an oriental art form of coupling couples in traditional Chinese or Japanese robes. The ones in this gallery were of the male-on-male variety.

The room was about eighteen by twenty feet, the walls covered in a red grass cloth. The plush carpet under foot was red as well. Track light highlighted each of the water colors and wood block prints. A brown leather-covered ottoman of a good size sat in the center of the room. The oriental furniture here appeared to be antique and went to the sexual torture theme that dated to a highly sophisticated but decadent, early nineteenth-century period of the Shang Dynasty in China. A rosewood prayer bench with stocks for the neck and wrists centered one wall. Opposite that was an X-frame, the Chinese version of the Saint Andrew's cross, the beams intricately carved. A stock-like contraption, that Cath wondered aloud how it would work, centered on another wall. The question brought a slight smile and a flash of the eyes to Tung's otherwise inscrutable face as he was showing Cath around the room.

The artwork was all of male couples, in provocative poses, if partially covered. It was clear in all, though, that the men were fucking.

"This is what I call my pillow-talk art room," Tung said. "The artwork on the wall presents male versions of Shunga, the ancient Japanese woodblock art dating back to the fourteenth century of men in a sexual embrace with other men. As you will note, billowy silk robing was used to accentuate areas of the body that weren't clothed, focusing on men fucking other men. The furniture you see is all antique--taken from chambers of pleasure in ancient China and Japan."

"Will we be--?" Cath started to ask, as she ran a hand over the surface of a low credenza that unmistakably had two full-sized backward-curved phallic projections jutting out a good foot and a half each rising from the middle of each end.

"Oh, yes, we will be using some of these pieces," Tung interjected. "Please make yourself comfortable. There is a chair over there where you can place your clothes--down to your slip, bra, and panties for now, please" This was an obvious indication that Cath was to strip here and begin to earn her fee. "I'll get us something to drink as we discuss the art in this room." He had made a few comments on the art in every other room, but it was evident that the art in this room was to be discussed in more detail as a form of foreplay.

When he was gone and Cath had stripped down to the black slip, lace bra, panties, black mesh stockings, and red spike heels she had been told were part of the preparation for this assignment, her attention went to the sex equipment. They were antiques, but were they really what Tung had said they'd been used for and were they still in use? Would they be in use tonight or was the tall, somewhat intimidating Chinese client teasing?

If they were to be used, that was part of the service, with any damage done being added to the fee, which would include covering her medical and recovery expenses.

Before she could dwell further on that question, though, Tung returned, carrying a tray with a martini shaker and two glasses on it. He was wearing a blue silk robe with oriental designs over it--and, as far as Cath could discern, only the robe. He was a tall, gaunt but hard-bodied man, in splendid muscularity for a man in his fifties. His robe opened enough as he walked for Cath to see that he was in erection. His cock was thick and quite long. Cath was neither surprised nor upset. That's what she was here for--to take care of his erection. She had been told he would require special preparation to be able to perform multiple times. And he had paid to have multiple climaxes.

He obviously had already taken enhancement pills. He would be in huge erection for hours.

Tung put the tray down on the antique credenza with phallic protuberances centered on the top surface of the sides that Cath had easily been able to imagine could be used as impaling dildos for someone stretched out on top of the credenza, held in place by the dildo up their ass or their cunt, while a sex partner hovered over them, working them over in inventive ways. The phalluses were curved a bit toward the center of the table and Cath could well imagine how they would fit in either cunt, which Cath now proudly owned, or ass. Tung poured two drinks into the glasses, took a long, assessing look at Cath.

"Gorgeous," he whispered. "You could easily pass." His hands were shaking as he handed Cath one of the glasses. Cath took a sip and felt the effect of whatever had been added to mellow her out almost immediately. She wasn't pleased she wouldn't be in full control of her faculties for this encounter, but she wasn't surprised either. The use of loosening and enhancement drugs had been specified in the contract. They were to be limited, more relaxing than incapacitating, though. Cath just had to rely on the client fully understanding the limitations of what his contract with the escort agency permitted.

Tung reached out to touch Cath on one of her breasts, still covered by the bra and the slip. The bra had cutouts at the nipples, and she gave him a low moan as his hand brushed one of hers.

"Magnificent," he murmured. "They did an excellent job." Then he sighed, leaned down and gave a long, lingering kiss on the lips, which she fully opened to, and, coming out of the kiss, and taking a drink from his glass, turned toward one of the walls where the art was displayed. "Shall we examine the artwork more closely?" he said, with a smile. He tossed off the drink in his glass, put an arm around Cath, his hand palming one of Cath's butt cheeks, and began guiding her around the room. A bit weak on her feet now, Cath was being supported in the walk as much physically as sexually. She was fully under the man's control.

The drugs were working in her system. As well as mellowing her out and loosening her up, she felt her nipples puff up and become more sensitive and her labia to swell and her clit to tingle as well.

When he got to the other end of the room, He slid open the pocket doors in the far wall, revealing that there was a bedroom beyond, one that was dominated by a carved Teakwood four-poster antique Chinese platform bed, with a canopy. Lush silk drapes hung from the canopy. This isn't what caught Cath's attention, though. She saw that there were restraints tied to the bed's posts, both above and below. A horsehair hand whip was artfully fanned out on the bed.

"Shall we begin?" Tung asked, drawing Cath into the room with strong hands. He purposely brushed a nipple with the back of his hand and Cath moaned in arousal. This wasn't going to be the usual assignment.

* * * *

Cath entered the bedroom with apprehension, eyes darting from the restraints on the bed posters to the horsehair hand whip on the bed.

"Not that. Not yet--unless you want it already," Tung murmured, as he picked up the hand whip and moved it to a nearby chair. "Come, sit in my lap," he said as he sat at the foot of the bed.

Cath moved into his lap, and Tung readjusted her position, so that she was facing away from him and her legs strung out around his hips to behind him. She was inclined forward, hands on his knees to support herself. She was trembling a bit, apprehensive about what came next.

He'd brushed open his robe and was naked underneath--and in an erection that was encased between her thighs and pressed into her belly. She arched her back, locking her fists behind his neck, and mewing, as his hand moved all over her body, gliding and fondling, finding and exploring creases and mounds.

He reached up from under her slip and unhooked her bra where it attached between her breasts, exposing her melon-plump tits. She moaned again as he thumbed her puffy nipples. He buried his face in the hollow of her throat, kissing and teething her there, and working her breasts with his hands, as she increasingly moved against his body, moaning and groaning. The writhing increased and her moaning deepened, as his hand moved down, under the waistband of her panties. They were of flimsy material, with loose seam stitching--on purpose--so Tung just ripped at the material and shredded it away from the fully transformed T-girl's body. His fingers then went to working her reconstructed snatch, worrying the vestigial penis clit at the top of the vagina opening, the puffy folds, and the interior of the reconstructed cunt. His rubbing and probing became increasingly intimate and intense. She gasped as he penetrated deep with one finger and then another.

Cath writhed against the man's attention, but he worked her relentlessly until she shuddered and exploded--writhed, and shuddered and exploded again. She was limp as a rag when he lifted her, set her down, with his cock sliding up into her snatch, deep and raised and lowered her in increasing frenzy until he too exploded inside her.

He held her in his embrace, both of them concentrating on his shaft going flaccid inside her, until they had cooled off. Then he released her and helped her, still in her slip, but pantyless and her bra open with her breasts swinging free, to move over to a small table, with two chairs, at the side of the room. Two brandy snifters and a bottle of brandy sat on the table. Tung helped both of them to a good-sized slug of the brandy.

The first thing he said was, "You are covered now for the escort agency contract. You can dress and leave, if you like. If you wish to earn $1,000 more and would like to see how the furniture in the other room can be used, you can stay a while longer." He looked expectantly at her.

She didn't take much time to respond. "I'll stay."

"You'll be sorely taxed, and once we start, no safe words will save you."

"I'll stay," she repeated.

James Tung smiled his inscrutable smile.

"Lie on the floor on your back for me, please. Yes, like that. Strip off your bra and panties, please. Just for now. Gorgeous. Spread and bend your legs. Raise your hips, showing me your lovely new cunt, please. Finger yourself, spreading your labia. Yes. Very nice. Cup and squeeze your breasts. Yes, like that. Move your body. Show me what ecstasy looks like. Beautiful. You are gorgeous. The surgeons were artists. You may put the bra and panties back on now."

Tung stood over her undulating body, stroking his shaft. He didn't go to completion, though. He wanted to savor the arousal.

* * * *

"Shall we go out to the gallery again then?" James Tung said, closing his blue robe about him, and walking back into the adjacent gallery. Cath rose from the carpet, sighed, looking down at the $1,000 in bills Tung had dropped on the table, and, still shaky from the effects of the sedating drugs he'd given her, followed the tall, ramrod-straight, Asian man.

The three pieces of sexual torture equipment Cath had spied in the gallery weren't the only ones there, and none of them were what Tung used with Cath to this point. After they'd walked around the room, looking at and discussing the artwork again, dwelling on the sensuality and sexual aspects of the pieces and pausing to kiss and fondle, including Cath running a hand into the folds of Tung's robe and fondling the man's balls and stroking his still-hard, long cock, Tung guided Cath back to the center of the room.

Tung sat on the ottoman and, taking her cue, Cath knelt in front of him, brushed the sides of robe open, took the man's cock in her mouth, and as Tung ran his fingers through the T-girl's hair, gave him expert head.

At length, Tung brushed Cath back on her heels and stood. "This ottoman is quite special" he said. "It's from the palace of the Shang Dynasty Chinese emperors."

As Cath watched, Tung lifted off the top of the ottoman and set that aside. The platform under it was lower to the ground. "Happily set to my height," Tung said, with a low laugh. "I'm pleased to know that some Chinese emperor and I were the same height."

It took Cath a moment to figure out what she was looking at in the configuration of what had been under the ottoman lid, but, when she did, she let out a little gasp and shivered. There were indentations in the wood at the bottom corners of the compartment where one's knees fit, and there were velvet straps, with gold buckles to hold the legs in place there. At the other end of the ottoman, on the edge, at the center, there was an indentation for the chin to fit. And there was another velvet strap and gold buckle there to hold the neck in place. Other velvet straps were set at the bottom from leg corners of the ottoman. The wrists could be restrained here. Two footholds pulled out at the side of the ottoman. The figure on top could either just stand behind the bound figure, or he could put his feet into the footholds and be in the position of riding the bound figure high like a jockey would a horse.

"I'm sure this was made for the emperor to ride his favorite concubines. You can be my favorite concubine of the day. Shall we try it out?"

Try it out they did. Cath was bound on it at her knees and wrists. Before her head was lowered and put into the restraint, though, Tung came around in front of her and showed her the antique Oriental toy he'd had in his pocket--a carved ivory cock cage. It was a dildo, but Cath could see that it was of a special variety--that there was a groove on the top of it and red string loops. It wasn't designed to extend the cock. Tung had more than enough length. It was designed to thicken the cock. Whereas Cath had assumed the taxing the cock would give her would be in length, she now knew that it would be in girth too. She'd be stretched to the max. She gave a little moan, and Tung smiled as he then gently pushed Cath's head down to restrain her neck on the edge of the ottoman platform.

Cath saw the blue robe floating to the ground on one side of the ottoman and a slit condom packet on the other side right before she began to moan and writhe as she could, as Tung's fingers slid into the T-girl's vagina through a slit in the panties and he began to prepare it for mounting.

Tung mounted and rode Cath's cunt in the jockey position for a good twenty minutes before switching to the T-girl's ass, with Cath crying out and writhing more at the invasion of this orifice, and coming there. As he rode her, Tung's hands went everywhere on the T-girl's body, and Cath gave him appropriate responses of pain-pleasure at the taking. Cath would have in any event, but this positioning was so unusual that she was fully aroused by the exotic nature of it. She'd never been positioned and fucked like this before. Tung didn't remove her slip and bra, enjoying the feel of running his hands under them to fondle the underlying flesh. As he rode her, he cupped and squeezed her melon breasts and sensitive nipples, working them in cadence with the thrusts of his cock. Cath writhed and groaned in his controlling embrace and the captivity of the Chinese fuck stool.

It was as he freed Cath from the ottoman that he asked her to disrobe entirely other than the high heels. The bra would go in the man's souvenir drawer along with those of other young men and women and T-girls Tung had introduced to his antique furniture.

Eyeing the credenza against the wall of the room, Tung said, "Shall we try something different now?"

Cath gave a little moan, as Tung picked her up, stripped her of everything but her high-heel shoes, cradling her in his arms, and moved toward the credenza. She should have known, she thought, that the $1,000 wouldn't be easy to earn.

* * * *

The Chinese antique gallery owner carried a collapsed and burbling Cath over to the ancient wooden sideboard that had the two foot-plus phallic protuberances in the middle of the side edges on either side. He lifted Cath and lowered her onto the top of the credenza at one side, facing the ceiling, sliding the greased, phallic protuberance up into her cunt as she weakly struggled against the wooden curve of the impaling shaft. Her legs draped down the side, finding that curves carved into the side of the credenza fit to her thighs. Grabbing her waist between his hands, and leaning over her, taking the nipples of her surgically augmented breast into his mouth and sucking on them hard, he raised and lowered her on the wooden phallus, using it as a dildo, fucking her on it, as she cried out, "Fuck! Shit!" The cap of the wooden phallus pounded against the glans at the top of her vagina, and with a cry she climaxed.

After a few minutes of holding her, still impaled on the wooden phallus, while they both cooled down, he reversed her, belly down on the top of the credenza, her cunt still sheathing the wooden phallus. While he was doing this, Tung restrained her wrists together and stretched her body out on top of the ancient sideboard so that the wrists were pulled over the phallic outcropping on the other side and held in place. Tung came up on the top of the credenza on his knees, mounted on top of Cath's hips. Leaning over her and penetrating her ass deep, with his thick, long cock, he rode her, moving her body so that the wooden phallus would fuck her in the cunt simultaneously with his thrusts in her ass. His hands went under her, cupping her melon breasts and working them in the rhythm of the ride. She lay, limp under him, murmuring "Oh shit, oh fuck," but offering no resistance. There was no resistance to offer; she was trussed and skewered.