The China Syndrome

a Rayne Wylde story by Sadie Rose Bermingham 2004

On a cold night in December, just before Christmas, nineteen year old Rayne Wylde met up with his pimp, Rabid John, in the Dog and Ferret after a day's shopping in and around Soho and Carnaby Street. For the first time in his young life, Rayne found himself with money in his pockets as a result of his 'work' for Johnno. Not that it had stayed there for long, mind you. He clutched the carrier bags in his hands like trophies hard won in battle and refused to let go, even after John bought him a pint of lager-shandy.

"Not too much booze, you're on a job' tonight," he cautioned.

"You said I could have this weekend off." Rayne eyed him resentfully from beneath his floppy, bottle blond forelock.

He was boyishly skinny in black jeans and a black mesh vest that showed off tiny, dark, silver-studded nipples. A friend of Johnno's had pierced his nips for him last time they all smoked crack together. They were still a bit tender but the little, barbed studs looked great protruding either side of his stiff young buds. Even the regulars occasionally checked him out when they thought John was looking the other way. No one in Mile End crossed Rabid John. The nickname had been earned and it certainly was not a term of endearment.

"Yeah, well you can after you've turned this little trick for me, yeah? It'll only take an hour or so but it come up sudden, like."

"Can't anybody else do it?" The blond lad necked half his pint and fired Johnno a stare that was pure, youthful arrogance.

"Nobody else has got the credentials you have, baby," John soothed. "These are big money punters, all right? Out of town boys, lookin' for somethin' fresh an' tight."

"Aww fuck it, John! I'm sick of playin' virgin for some dozy cunt that can't get it on with a grown up!" the pretty little whore complained bitterly.

"Yeah? Well think about five 'undred quid an hour, will you. That's what they're payin'."

The boy's lime green eyes widened conspicuously. He reached for the glass again. John's hand got there first.

"Take your time, Raymonde. Won't do to 'ave you turn up reekin' of ale now, will it?"

"How many of them are there?" Ray looked suspicious. He had recently serviced a seven man gang-bang that left him unable to walk straight for a week. Johnno could not blame him for being wary.

"Just the two this time. Big businessmen; Chinese Mafia, maybe. They're sure flashin' their cash about!"

"I'm not so sure," Rayne muttered doubtfully.

"You've nothin' to worry about. They want a fourteen-year-old with a virgin arse so they can film a bono-fido deflowerin'. They're payin' good money and I know you can pull it off, Ray. Just look cute and play dumb and scared for 'em." John emptied his pint glass for him and ruffled Rayne's artfully styled slick of fringe.

He dressed down deliberately for the job. The loose, faded blue jeans were slightly less revealing than his black pair and coupled with a baggy t-shirt with a skate-boarding logo on the front. He ran his hands through his hair leaving it roughly tousled and removed all traces of make-up and nail polish carefully. His piercings were more problematic. He just hoped that the holes would be invisible in the darkness and his nipples would not heal too quickly once the studs were out. On the plus side they were amazingly sensitive tonight.

He shaved his legs and armpits and between his thighs diligently in the shower whilst Johnno watched. Once he had towelled himself dry the older man felt him up unashamedly, checking that he was perfectly, boyishly smooth all over. Only then did he let Rayne get dressed.

The venue for their rendezvous was a backstreet hotel in Bayswater and they got a taxi there, Rayne staring wordlessly out of the window at the drizzle and the dark, wet London night as Johnno rolled a joint. He wore a dark blue duffle coat and a cap with some biker logo on it. At the hotel, they walked up a short flight of narrow steps into a bleak, featureless foyer with linoleum floors that smelled faintly of vomit and cleen-o-pine, and fake teak panelling on the walls. The reception was behind a metal grille. Johnno murmured something to the dark-skinned fellow behind the bars and he nodded and pushed a single Yale key on a white plastic fob under the grille towards the skinny, unshaven fellow in the long black coat.

Now Johnno nodded towards the uncarpeted stairs at the far end of the foyer and Rayne followed unenthusiastically. The room was on the third floor and they let themselves in in pensive silence. Johnno flicked the light switch and the space beyond was illuminated dimly by a bare, 40watt bulb hanging from the high ceiling. The floors here were also scabby lino. An iron framed three-quarter width bed and a wooden chair constituted the only furnishing. There was a badly fitted door in the wall beyond the bed, which led, on closer inspection to a small, walk in wardrobe with three fixed hangers on a rail and a folded spare blanket on a high shelf. Rayne took his coat off and hung it up, closing the door quietly.

"This is the pits," he declared morbidly, sitting down on the bed, which squeaked like a wounded bird.

Johnno said nothing, only pulled the moth-eaten curtains together and lit his roll up. In a room somewhere beneath them, a door slammed and was locked and after a brief murmur of voices a couple began to have rapid, noisy sex. Rayne pulled up both feet onto the shabby counterpane and hugged his knees miserably.

After about fifteen minutes, they both heard the sound of footsteps outside and Johnno turned half anxiously, half expectantly. There was a tentative knock at their door and he sprang across the room to open it, admitting a pair of oriental men, in their late forties, perhaps. One was rather portly and his dark hair was receding above the black-rimmed spectacles perched on his forehead. The other was wiry, grey-suited and already grey haired. He gripped Johnno's hand and pumped it vigorously for a few moments, then in broken English introduced his broader companion, Mr. Chen lo Sing.

Chen lo Sing was wearing a dark, well-cut suit and overcoat and carrying a square, silvery case, which he set down on the floor now, looking around the room a little distastefully. His small, narrow eyes finally lit upon Rayne, still curled around himself on the bed and he said something in Mandarin which the wiry fellow quickly translated.

"Mr Chen says what is the boy's name?"

"Jason," Rayne said quickly before Johnno could open his mouth. He was not ready to give this man anything more than he had to, and this included his name.

There was a further brief consultation and the translator smiled condescendingly.

"Mr. Chen says, 'ah... like the Argonauts?'"

"Yeah." Rayne managed a half smile at that.

"How old are you, Jason?" the skinny fellow leaned forward with his hands resting lightly on the footrail of the bed. His portly companion wandered around to inspect the wardrobe and removed his coat, hanging it up along with his suit jacket. He toed off his shoes and began to unfasten his tie.

Rayne watched this detachedly.

"I'll be fifteen in a couple of months," he lied and this was conveyed back to Mr. Chen, who asked another question.

"Are you still at school, Jason?"

"Yeah," he said, still watching as Chen removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, hanging both in the wardrobe fastidiously.

"Do you like your school?"

"It's all right," he said non-committally, keeping the disgust out of his tone, but only just.

The Chinamen exchanged nodded comments and the skinny translator told him; "Mr. Chen would like you remove all your clothing, please, Jason and bend forward over the bed with your legs apart. Would you do this now, please?"

Rayne cast an incredulous glance in Johnno's direction but the skinny pimp only nodded numbly. Exhaling a short, incredulous breath, Rayne began to peel off his tee-shirt and jeans. At the same time, Chen removed his trousers and underpants and hung them in the wardrobe, closing the door. He sat down on the edge of the bed and took off his socks, tucking them fastidiously into his shoes and placing them carefully beneath the bedframe as Rayne slowly stripped naked in front of him, letting his clothes fall carelessly to the floor. Now the fleshy oriental beckoned him forward and indicated with a brisk gesture of his hand that Rayne should lean on the mattress beside him. He pushed the young man's shoulders down to the worn counterpane, which smelled slightly musty, and rose to his feet, moving behind him at once.

Through his hair, Rayne saw the translator place the silver case on the other side of the bed and open it. He removed a video camera and inserted a cassette into it before lifting it to shoulder height and peering through the lens at Rayne. Feeling cold and awkward, Rayne closed his eyes. Soft, podgy fingers parted his cheeks and touched intimately between his legs, handling his genitals and rubbing his scrotum and the puckered lips of his rectum. He squeezed his ring tight as a fleshy thumb-pad pressed on his sphincter and circled slowly between the cheeks of his arse.

A longer conversation took place between the two Chinamen this time. Rayne moaned a little as he was probed more roughly. The translator asked; "Have you ever performed sexual intercourse, Jason?"

He shook his head with some difficulty.

"No."

"Mr. Chen asks me to tell you that your testicles are very large. He wishes to know, do you masturbate yourself regularly to orgasm?"

"Um... Thanks," Rayne muttered awkwardly, not sure what else to say to this. "I – um – I suppose so."

"And do your testicles produce copious amounts of semen when you reach climax?" he was asked politely.

"Yeah," Rayne panted, feeling his cock begin to stiffen, in spite of the ridiculous circumstances.

"Have you ever allowed a man to place his finger or erect penis within your mouth or anus and stimulate himself to climax that way?" the fellow enquired in a casual tone of voice as if enquiring of the best way to Charing Cross station.

"No," he lied, crossing his fingers discreetly.

The hand on his backside lifted briefly and Chen said something else, rather briskly. Rayne shivered, not sure if it was the cold air or just nerves, or maybe both. This was one of the most bizarre situations he had even found himself in.

"Mr Chen says that you may leave us with Jason now, Mr. John," the little fellow instructed. "He wishes only the presence of myself and the camera whilst Jason is pleasuring him."

Rayne turned his head anxiously. John looked a little unsettled too but he nodded finally.

"I'll be just outside in the corridor, okay?" he told his favourite whore. "Do as you're told, all right?"

Rayne nodded and bit his lip. He was still bent over the mattress as Johnno slipped out and the door closed behind him.

Chen's soft, plump hand stroked his naked back and he said something, which was translated as; "Please lie down on the bed now on your back, Jason. Mr. Chen would like to watch you stimulating yourself. It would give him pleasure to observe you with your legs parted and knees raised so that all of your genital parts are on display as you masturbate."

"That's dirty," he told them awkwardly.

The oriental pair exchanged comments. Chen laughed gruffly and looked Rayne up and down in a way that left the younger man feeling distinctly uneasy.

"Mr. Chen says that he will not tell anyone." The tone was impersonal yet still slightly patronising, as if he spoke to a very young boy.

Again, Rayne Wilde was reminded that this was exactly what he was supposed to be. The thought was disquieting to him.

He settled awkwardly on the yielding mattress and the springs squeaked alarmingly as he positioned himself. Chen and his skinny translator stood at the foot of the bed and alternately ogled and filmed proceedings as he began to stroke his cock nervously. At first he had some difficulty keeping it hard, which had never been a problem for him before. He put it down the unusual circumstances and closed his eyes, concentrating on how it felt to wank whilst he knew he was being looked at. He slipped into a fantasy, imagining that it was the pretty blonde-haired first year lecturer in architectural theory who was standing in the nude at his feet and he had pulled out his tool in her lecture and was pumping it hard for her as she rubbed her clit and the rest of the students watched in awe.

"It is not Mr Chen's wish that you ejaculate yet," the cool impassive voice interrupted. "It would give him pleasure to observe you inserting your fingers into your own anus whilst you stroke his member. He will stimulate your erect penis whilst you do this. When he gives you the instruction you are to lean towards him and pleasure his member with your lips and tongue. Do you understand this Jason?"

He made his eyes as wide and huge as possible.

"I... I don't know how to do that, Sir," he lied in a small, innocent voice.

"Do not concern yourself. When the time comes, Mr. Chen and I will teach you the art of giving oral pleasure. It is your only concern to accustom your rectum to the presence of a penetrative force. Mr Chen is aware that he has a large penis and he has no wish to hurt you when the time comes for him to violate your anus."

There was a definite glint in the man's eye as he said this. Rayne blinked at him but managed to make the expression somehow shy and uncomprehending.

"Mum always said that I wasn't to put my fingers in my bum. There's germs," he pointed out stoically.

Again they conferred and Chen laughed heartily this time and said something incomprehensible as he stroked between Rayne's naked thighs.

"Mr. Chen will make it well worth your while to disobey," the translator informed him gravely, filming this interference in close-up. "If you disobey Mr. Chen however, you will be punished vigorously before we 'force' you to perform intercourse."

Rayne swallowed genuine anxiety. There had been no mention of violence before he agreed to come here. He spread his legs obediently now and explored himself with careful fingers. So far he had not even seen Chen's boner, it was still hidden by the landslide of his vast, furry belly. As he eased a forefinger up his own arse, Chen bent over him and began to wank him with an appreciative smile on his sweaty face. Rayne moaned softly and wriggled on the bedcover.

"Oh... Oh sir! It feels funny. I think... I think I'm going to cum," he gasped obligingly.

"No, no!" the translator insisted, shaking his head.

Chen stopped fondling him and held up two fingers pressed together. Rayne nodded his head in comprehension. He spread his legs wider and eased a second finger slowly up his arse. The bulky oriental now tucked a hand beneath Rayne's slender thigh and lifted his right leg so that the young man could concentrate on frigging himself and not worry about keeping the camera's view of his naked scrotum unobstructed. He need not have worried that they would discover his secret. Tension kept his ring so tight that he was losing the feeling in his fingers. Rayne closed his eyes again, concentrating on the moist, warm feel of his hole.

He could hear them murmuring urgently together and now the skinny man told him; "Mr. Chen would like your lips around his sex now, Jason. Watching you arouse yourself is making him extremely hard."

He opened his eyes. At the foot of the bed the translator was unfastening his fly. Beside him, the enormous bulk of Chen's hairy belly rolled like a hill during an earthquake as he stretched upward. It revealed a chunky, nodding, uncircumcised cock that was easily nine inches long. The eye that stared back unblinkingly at him was weeping semen like a dribbling icing gun. Chen had huge, hairy, purple balls that hung from beneath this upright mast to halfway down his thighs.

As the other man unzipped his pants, Rayne was conscious that he too was prominently erect. For a small man he had a fairly substantial knob between his thighs. It was not as huge as Chen's impressive boner but still a decent mouthful. He caught his breath and panted; "I'm not sure about this..."

"Do not be afraid. We will not hurt you," the translator told him, apparently without guidance from his boss, who was still watching Rayne finger himself with hungry eyes.

Now the big fellow reached into the silver case for a small jar and removed the lid, passing it to Rayne. He said something, imperiously. The young whore looked enquiringly at his interpreter, though he sensed what was coming next.

"You are to dip your fingers into the lubricant," he was told impassively. "This time, Mr. Chen would like you to put a third finger into your anus and really stretch your hole. He is almost ready to enter you, but it is his wish that you are properly prepared for your loss of innocence. He does not desire that your violation should be painful."

Rayne shuddered a little at the idea of this huge, hirsute, bear of a man between his legs. At the same time Chen stroked his bottle-blond hair and he was drawn firmly towards that furry groin. He took a deep breath. Chen asked him something and the other man promptly enquired; "Are you afraid, Jason?"

"Yeah!" he exhaled in a rush, staring in fascination at that massive tool waving before his eyes.

"Just relax and open your mouth wide," the thin fellow told him. The camera was behind him now and he fought the urge to look around for it as his lips parted.

Chen's salty cock-head nudged between them and the big Chinaman used one hand to hold up the folds of his belly as the other stroked the back of Rayne's head. He was leaning all his weight against the side of the bed as he pulled the young English lad's soft, wet mouth onto his sex. Rayne moaned and began to suck instinctively. Above him he heard a grunt and the translator quickly said; "Not so hard. Just stroke with your lips and tongue. Imagine you are licking a bar of ice-cream, Jason, trying to get more and more of it into your mouth."

Rayne pushed three fingers deeper into his rectum and whimpered softly as his lips were forced wide by Chen's thrusting cock. He was incredibly relieved that he was not as inexperienced as they had hoped. Twice he pretended to gag as the big man began to fuck his mouth with deep, steady strokes. Each time he was soothed and encouraged to relax and keep swallowing by the cameraman. Once he was comfortably deep-throating his client, he was startled to suddenly feel a huff of hot breath in his own crotch. The bed-springs creaked as Chen eased down onto the mattress beside him and began to lick his smoothly shaven groin and genitals. His cock sprang upright at once and he whimpered, muffled by the hot hairy ball-sac in which his nose was diligently buried. Chen's huge, furry belly pressed against his torso eagerly.

"Mr. Chen wants you to push your fingers as deeply as you can into your anus and keep them there, touching yourself inside until you feel the urge to ejaculate. If you do so before he gives permission, you will be whipped soundly upon your bare buttocks prior to full, anal intercourse," he was warned.

Rayne tried to groan an incoherent protest but nothing more than a muffled monotone escaped. His fingers felt numb but he pushed them further in and wriggled them all the same, painfully conscious of the swell of pleasure deep within as he caressed his own prostate. Chen's tongue explored his balls and scrotum as he pounded Rayne's mouth and throat enthusiastically on the bed, his big, hirsute nuts banging together on either side of the pretty teenager's nose. He pulled up the muscles of his groin determinedly, vainly fighting the impulse that demanded release as that hot, writhing tongue explored his throbbing cock from base to tip.