Fomenting a Coup

So, Nick was deciding that the guy he’d met at the Monaco Principality youth hostel had been right—that the steps of the Cathedral of Our Lady on the edge of the Jardins Sant-Martin park was as good a place as any to pick up men good for the day’s expenses. And Nick’s resources were down to the point of selling his body, which he was willing to do and had done before during his European adventure. Such a guy was standing in front of him now, looking rough at the base but candy coated. He was expensively dressed in tailored clothes covering a muscular, hard-as-steel body. He maybe was in his early forties and looked thuggish, but thuggish in a handsome, arousing way—and he looked like money. Nick gauged him to be Slavic. He was probably organized crime, Nick thought, which would be an addition to Nick’s European adventure. The man was standing there, in front of Nick, all-American sunny blond, with a friendly smile on a handsome face and sculpted body, a glorious nineteen.

Nick had taken a year off after high school and before entering Penn State, where all his people went and where he was promised an athletic scholarship when he was ready for it to play tennis. Before he settled down to that he was bumming around Europe for a year. They had a name for it—the gap year. His expenses had outrun the money his family was regularly wiring to him in France and he was sitting it out in Monaco, waiting for the money drafts to catch up with him. He needed cash, though, and he’d let men—and a few women, although men proved to be a quicker and less entangling proposition—use his body before in Europe on this gap year adventure—and not always because he needed money at the time—so here he was, lounging and posing on the steps of the Cathedral of Our Lady. Being free to be casually gay for pay was part of the adventure.

The man, swarthy under the elegant clothes, although not uncomfortably so, black, curly hair, with hairy forearms and tufts of curls at his neckline, and what was probably a perpetual five o’clock shadow at his jaw line and on his cheeks, was giving Nick a piercing stare. Nick was dressed as if he was biking and had stopped at the cathedral for a short rest—neon-blue skin-tight Lycra biker thigh-compression shorts and a peel-off Lycra jersey. He’d dressed to be noticed. There was no bike in sight, though. He couldn’t see bringing one to this audition and worrying about what to do with it if he went to a hotel room with a man. He did bring his tennis racket to give some credibility to being in athletic gear.

There was no trouble figuring out what the man wanted. He had one hand floating in front of his basket and the other one holding a wallet. He wanted sex and he’d pay for it. There were other young men on offer here, but it was clear that Mr. Swarthy wanted Nick. Nick came down the steps and held out his hand. The man reached his out, but as their hands connected, he slipped his thumb under, rubbing it against Nick’s palm in what Nick had learned was a sign of a seeking top. Nick loosely wrapped his fingers around the thumb, in a signal of a yielding submissive, and, just like that, an understanding was established.

“Alexsei,” the man said, the accent Slavic. So, Nick had guessed right on that.

“Ned,” Nick answered, having already learned not to reveal his true name at the beginning of a hookup. The men expected that. They certainly didn’t give their real names. The john looked like an Alexsei; the name fit the look. Nick was almost reluctant to hook up with him. He looked like he could be real rough. Nick got a little extra jolt out of rough, but he was having second thoughts, having quickly assessed the man as organized crime. Sometimes, Nick realized, his fantasies ran ahead of his common sense. He was about to back out, when the man took control with a commanding voice.

“You come with me for coffee or beer or wine.” Alexsei said, not posing it as a question. “Just up the street here.” He pointed to the Allée Jean Paul II, running up the side of the cathedral inland.

“Yes,” Nick answered.

“You are American? Or Canadian?” Alexsei asked, as he forcefully took Nick’s hand in his left hand and swung his right around to Nick’s right hip, already seeming to take possession. It was as if he sensed Nick was having second thoughts and wasn’t going to allow for those. He already was being boldly assertive. Anyone who observed the two at the foot of the cathedral stairs would know that the Slav was going to fuck the smaller American blond. He stroked Nick’s hip with the tips of his fingers. “Nice. Narrow hips.”

“American,” Nick said as his thoughts went to the probability that this man was hung. It was his experience that men with big cocks expressed interest in his narrow hips when they spoke to him about sex. It was a giveaway on their size when they did so. Nick gave a little shiver of anticipation as the man guided him up the street beside the cathedral. They were headed to a sidewalk café just inside the Rue des Carmes at the back edge of the Cathedral. It was a slack period of the day and they found a small table, with seats across from each other just in from where the awning blocked the sunlight.

What was it with johns and narrow hips, Nick had once wondered. He’d been given an answer for that, though, and those who had this fetish always seemed to be big-cocked men. They all seemed to like his narrow hips, to the point that some mentioned them, sometimes as they were entering him and holding his hips between their hands, remarking how they liked seeing their big cocks split the difference and his hole blossoming open to take them in. They all expressed surprise and appreciation that the seemingly virginal young man had a hole that would open so well and quickly to the cock. From that point forward they’d treat him like a seasoned whore.

Not that he had much experience with this, of course—at least before his European trip. He wasn’t promiscuous, or hadn’t been before reaching the Continent. He just needed more money for Europe than he was being sent. And, truth be told, he found prostituting himself to older men to be exciting. He found that playing tennis gave him access to men with money and the opportunity to be ogled and propositioned in locker room showers. Nearly all of his sexual experience had developed during this gap year in Europe, but it had been a rapid development.

They ordered, the waiter being attentive and limp wrested, making up to Alexsei, obviously not caring about whether the two were in negotiations in his café. As they ordered their coffees, Alexsei taking control and ordering for both of them without consulting with Nick, Alexsei palmed the waiter’s butt and talked suggestively to the young man, and the waiter simpered for him. Alexsei obviously was a player and had a lot of self-confidence about what he could get if he wanted it. That just added to Nick’s interest and arousal, though.

Nick wondered if Alexsei had been in this café before and if he’d already fucked the waiter—probably so from the way the two interacted.

“How old are you?” Alexsei asked, giving Nick a hard look, after the waiter had flounced off to get the coffees.

“Nineteen,” Nick said.

“I’m not sure I believe you. You look more like sixteen to me.”

“And you wouldn’t be interested then?”

“Of course I’d still be interested,” Alexsei said. “But the arrangement would be a bit different then.”

“Well, I am nineteen,” Nick said. He was.

“Can you prove that to me?”

“Yes, if you don’t look too hard at the name and address. I have a Stateside driver’s license.”

“Let me see it. I will just look at the birthdate.”

Nick produced his billfold, opening it to his driver’s license and showing it across the table. “Hey,” he exclaimed, as Alexsei grabbed the billfold out of his hand and pulled it out of Nick’s reach. “Nicholas Vanderver, with a Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, address. And, yes, it’s your photo—very handsome—and you are nineteen, as it says.”

“Give that back to me,” Nick said, reaching out, but Alexsei pocketed the billfold. Nick decided not to make a scene about that—at least not yet. “Did you want me to be underage?”

Alexsei laughed. “No, I just wanted to have something to hold so that you would do what I want. Don’t worry, I’ll give it back when you’ve given me what I want. It wouldn’t matter if you were sixteen. We’re in Monaco. The age of consent here is fifteen. But I don’t want a boy; I want a young man. You may have your billfold back when I am satisfied.”

“And when will that be?” Nick asked.

“When I have fucked you for the second time because you gave me good sport and satisfaction the first time.”

* * * *

The Hotel de Vedel was a small, seedy hotel on the Rue de Vedel, right around the corner from the café on the Rue des Carmes. You wouldn’t have known it was a hotel, only having a small lobby on the shopfront level, unless you were standing in front of its door and looking at the sign painted in small, elegant letters on its glass door. It wasn’t advertising for clientele that didn’t already know about it and what it was offering.

There were only eight rooms and no café or bar. The hotel rooms rented by the hour, at steep rates, and were normally rented for trysts of men with other males. The rooms were small, but functional, the luxury being that they all had en suite baths so men using the rooms wouldn’t encounter other men they might know in hallways to communal baths.

Alexsei had his knees between Nick’s thighs and an arm wrapped around Nick’s lower back, holding the young man’s pelvis off the bed, as Nick’s torso reclined back on the bed. The young man was largely immobilized in this position. Nick moaned and ran his hands through the heavy, black matting of Alexsei’s chest. As the man stroked Nick’s cock with his other hand, Alexsei readjusted a bit, rising on his knees. The hand left Nick’s cock and was positioning Alexsei’s bulb at Nick’s hole. Nick groaned, jerked, and dug into the other man’s chest hair as the thick cock entered him and slowly, but persistently, moved up inside him—in, back, in deeper, back a half inch, in deeper.

Nick’s hand glided down Alexsei’s torso matting and into the man’s thick pubic thatch. He dug into the coarse, curly hair there and pressed his thumb into the root of Alexsei’s shaft. He knew that this gave a man’s cock a shot of pleasure and a boost in size, which, as Alexsei shuddered, it did in this case, as well. The young man had learned more than a few tricks of the trade as he fucked his way across Europe. Nick was panting, every fiber of him concentrating on the thick cock—thick as he had known it would be—invading and stretching him. He knew how to bring out the arousal in men even though he, by no means, was a professional. Having helped get them into the rhythm of the fuck, Nick lay back, extending his arms out in a sacrificial position, giving himself entirely to the man. He knew that men liked this form of surrender. And Alexsei obviously did, as he thrust, thrust, thrust.

A face loomed above Nick’s. It wasn’t Alexsei’s face, but lips brushed on Nick’s and then pressed. Nick opened his mouth to the third man’s deep kiss as Alexsei thrust, thrust, thrust inside his channel. Nick had been nervous when Alexsei had introduced the other young man. He was still nervous, but it aroused him. He took the kiss hungrily, as Alexsei’s cock continued to stretch and test his passage.

Later, Nick was lying on his back on a queen-sized bed that took up much of the hotel room. His legs were spread and bent, his buttocks raised on a pillow. He lay, eyes a bit glazed, massaging his throat, which Alexsei had been gripping, controlling Nick’s breathing, while he fucked him in a missionary position. The waiter from the café was lying on the bed beside Nick. Alexsei was on top of the waiter, fucking him. The waiter was writhing under him, gasping for breath as he could, because Alexsei was choking him just as he’d choked Nick. He was pistoning the waiter’s passage too with a very vigorous, hard-as steel cock. Alexsei’s body was hard as steel as well—muscular and hirsute, like a big bear. He was strong as a bear too. Nick was lying there, panting and trembling, having been fucked roughly and totally—waiting to be fucked again.

The waiter was getting it now.

The foreplay hadn’t been with Alexsei. He sat there, by the bed, naked and stroking his cock, watching Nick and the waiter kiss and fondle and sixty-nine, at Alexsei’s direction. When the two were sexed up, hard, and starting to decide who was going to try to do the other, both of them being submissives, Alexsei had climbed up on the bed, chosen Nick, put the young man under him, on his back, and thrust inside him, as Nick arched his back and cried out to the ceiling. Alexsei had ridden him hard.

It had been like being fucked by a bear. He was strong and hairy. He embraced Nick tight with his arms, the man’s thick cock taxing Nick’s passage walls. Not giving the young man time to open to him, stretching him and punishing the walls, moving fast and deep inside him. It was as Nick had surmised—the man wanted to conquer a narrow passage, to force it open with his thick cock. The man wanted to punish his prey.

Thrusting, thrusting, thrusting. As Nick adjusted, he willed the muscles of his passage walls to undulate over the punishing shaft, working to settle it down into a calmer rhythm. And it did settle down and the two were working together in the natural rhythm of the fuck. They were fucking good, both of them into it, Nick enjoying it as much as Alexsei was, when the big man’s hands went to Nick’s throat, and the young man slowly sank into worrying more about getting his next breath than about the rhythm of cock moving inside him.

When he was finished with the waiter, Alexsei moved back over to Nick, flipped him onto his belly, his lower belly on the pillows that raised his buttocks. Muttering, “Such nice slim hips,” Alexsei grasped those hips between his hands, split the difference, and thrust inside Nick’s passage again. Alexsei’s knees were dug into the mattress, and he was using the leverage from them to drive hard. The man had the stamina of a god. His hands slid up Nick’s trim torso, pausing at the young man’s pecs to worry his nipples, and then went to the young man’s throat. His thumbs were pressed up under Nick’s jaw.

Nick’s face was turned toward the door out into the corridor. There was another door on a side wall, giving access, when unlocked, to the neighboring room. Nick was seeing stars, close to blackening out, as the door opened and two burly men—both Slavic looking—came in. Nick heard the waiter on the bed beside him, mouthing off in French, getting hysterical, as the two men went around the bed to him, and then Nick blacked out from the pressure of the thumbs digging into the soft tissue under his jaw.

* * * *

“He has papers—for international travels?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Legitimate ones?” Doug Taney asked. He was sitting on the terrace of the brothel above the private beach east of Tangier, Morocco. He was American, forty-five, very distinguished looking—tall and slim, but well-muscled. His features were movie-star handsome, his auburn hair wavy, with graying sideburns. He looked very wealthy, highly confident. He was traveling on a diplomatic passport.

Mahmud Paradee, half Arab, half Indian, all business, gave a little laugh. “His papers are convincing enough. He’s Derek MacGraw, Canadian passport, but, as you requested, American.”

“Provenance?”

“We acquired him through a Russian operation. We don’t ask. And if the talent wants to talk about it when they get here, they are punished until they don’t want to talk about it anymore. He’s nineteen. I saw original documentation when I purchased him—everything but the birthdate and photo blanked out, of course.”

“He looks younger.”

“For which men here have paid more. If they don’t ask, we don’t tell.”

“He’s not a virgin?”

Paradee snorted. “He is every Tuesday and Thursday. He’s very convincing. He loses his virginity very dramatically upon request. I’ve taken it several times myself.” Paradee laughed and Taney produced a thin smile. Paradee would not have been as forthcoming on the origin and sexual experience of the blond young man they were watching down on the beach, Nick Vanderver, who was documented as Derek MacGraw, if Taney was just considering buying the young man’s time. He was dickering on buying the young man’ body to take away permanently.

They both looked down onto the very private beach, rocks going down to the Mediterranean on either end of the narrow strip of sand, with tall fencing running to and into the sea along the tops of the rocks on either side. The young men were either playing an abbreviated game of soccer on the sand or were swimming in the sea or lounging on towels on the sand. A few patrons were on the beach as well. A couple of them were fucking the young men on beach towels, with no one paying much attention.

“I had expressed interest in one who could play tennis.”

“He plays very well. The best of any of the young men who play here,” the brothel master answered.

On the terrace, where Doug Taney sat and Mahmud Paradee hovered, sat a line of other men, some in Arab dress, a few in business suits, looking and selecting.

“Do you want—?” Mahmud murmured, licking his lips.

“Have him brought up to a room,” Taney answered, maintaining his thin smile. “I’ll decide when I’ve put him through his paces.”

* * * *

Doug Taney stood in the bathroom door, naked and slow stroking his cock, as he watched Nick preparing to be fucked. Taney had a good, well-cared-for body and a nice-sized cock. He had told Nick he wanted to watch all that the young blond with a perfectly formed body was doing.

“Are you sure you are nineteen and not younger?” he asked.

“If you want me to be younger, I will be younger,” Nick said. He’d been told to please the men they put him with, or they’d dispense with him. Nick believed them.

“You’ll be whatever I want?” Taney said.

“Yes,” Nick agreed.

“I want you to be a virgin.”

Taney watched Nick brush his teeth. He watched him trim his bush and his pits with an electric razor. He watched him piss and douche and shower.

“And now?” Nick asked, giving the man a querying look. He’d prepared as he’d been told.

“Now I want you to be the virgin—a young man in a hotel room, thinking he’s alone, but a man who he’s had a drink with down in the hotel bar but left, has followed him to get what the young virginal man wouldn’t agree to give him when they were conversing at the bar. I have paid the hotel people to look the other way and they have given me a key to your room. We are in Morocco. I am bigger, stronger, more experienced than you are. There is no one here to protect you or to give you justice for what I’m going to take from you.”

Doug watched the surprised, fearful look in the young man’s eyes when he strode across the bathroom as Nick was toweling off. Seeing Doug coming at him, Nick tried to dart past him, but Doug reached out, grabbed the young man’s arm, and spun him around. He slapped Nick hard across the check, and as Nick was spinning away from that, Doug punched him in the belly. Nick dropped to the floor of the bathroom, doubling up into the fetal position and whimpering.

“Take it, bitch,” Doug growled, reaching down and grabbing and handful of Nick’s hair, and pulling the young man up onto his feet.

“Give me your ass.” He put a strong arm around the young man’s belly and bent him over the toilet. The wall behind the toilet was mirrored, and Doug looked into it to watch Nick’s expression of surprise, fear, horror, pain, and sustained suffering as Doug ran his fingers into the shoulder-length hair on Nick’s head, tighten his grip, and arch Nick’s head back so the two could latch eye contact as Doug forced his cock up inside Nick’s passage and started to pump him.

Nick cried out in unprepared pain, babbled his unheeded requests for mercy, and otherwise acted out the first, surprise taking of a virgin as Doug had demanded that he do.

Satisfied with the performance, Doug pulled out of Nick’s ass, twisted the young man around and forced him down on his knees, still using the grip he had on Nick’s hair, and presented his cock for sucking. Nick, whimpering and panting, gave the older man an expert blow job, bringing him off, not being shy about taking the cum in his throat.

A half hour later, Taney used the young man again, again telling him to respond as if it was for the first time—to struggle against being deflowered. Taney grabbed him from behind and bent him over the bed. Nick struggled but was subdued by having the breath knocked out of him by crushing embraces, until, moaning softly, he let his chest fall to the mattress at the foot of the bed and stretched his arms out from his sides in surrender. He continued moaning and babbling to himself as Taney knelt behind him, grasped his hips between his hands, using his thumbs to pull the young man’s butt cheeks apart, and ate out Nick’s hole.

Standing and leaning over Nick’s back, Taney whispered “Such slim hips” and then, as Nick cried out and writhed, he wrapped one arm around Nick’s belly and cupped the young man’s chin with the other hand, forced himself inside Nick’s passage, and fucked him in long, deep strokes. Once he had set up a rhythm, the hand he’d had holding Nick’s jaw moved into the hair on the back of Nick’s head, gripped tightly, and arched Nick’s back up into him with Nick’s head pressed into Taney’s shoulder.

Nick whimpered and groaned, but he fell into the rhythm, causing his passage walls to undulate over the stroking cock and setting up a counter rocking that put the efforts of the two into synch and had Taney groaning and moaning as deeply as Nick did in the fuck.

“Yes, yes. Now you want it from me. I’ve plucked your male cherry and all is lost to you other than the pleasure of now wanting it—wanting it from me, because I do you so well. Yes, like that. You’re doing great.”

When Taney came, it was with complete satisfaction. He let Nick fall onto the bed. Nick turned onto his back, with Doug still hovering over him. The young man lay there, giving Doug a look of worship. The fingers of one hand reached out to touch Doug on the thigh, holding the man in place to watch Nick languidly stroke himself off with the other hand. Nick moved the fingers touching Doug’s thigh to the man’s cock, and Nick stroked Doug into another erection. After Nick came, he dug his feet into the edge of the bed, raised his pelvis, pulled Doug’s shaft into him, and the two fucked again.

The scene of the initiation and conversion of the virgin was complete.

Later, in the hall outside the bedroom, leaving Nick, stretched out on the bed, panting and mewing and purring, Taney settled the sale with Mahmud Paradee.

“He’ll do nicely. A good mix of innocence and professionalism, and he’s a real beauty. Doesn’t look his age. He’ll be a smash hit.”

“We have been very happy with him. Quick turnover helps business, though. Can you tell me where you’re taking him?” Paradee had assumed that Taney was a procurer for another male brothel somewhere. Taney hadn’t indicated otherwise. Paradee was interested in whether the young man would be competition for his services.

“Central Africa,” Taney answered.

“Allah help the young man then,” Paradee said, with a frown. “They are monsters—physically huge and cruel—in the interior of Africa.”

“I think he will serve the purpose,” was all Taney said before reentering the room; turning Nick on his belly; climbing on top of, mounting, and penetrating him; and beginning the fuck one more time. This time wasn’t to check the young man’s prowess and endurance out. This time was for Doug Taney’s personal pleasure.

Nick didn’t seem to mind it either.

* * * *

“The truth is that he isn’t my son. I’ve been watching you, General, and I know you’re interested. You could take him home with you today, no questions asked, if you were willing to cooperate with us in something that would be in your interest anyway. Our gift to you.”

“And you would expect him back in what condition?”

“He’d be a gift. You could do as you like with him and dispose of him as you like.” The general’s cruelty and terminal use of young men was well known.

General Beno Mabele, army commander of a central African nation, drew closer into Doug Taney, from the American embassy. “I’m listening.”

Taney told him what he could cooperate in to be able to take the nineteen-year-old young man going by the name of Derick MacGraw home with him and use the youth as he liked. He was well known for preferring young, blond men and using them totally.

“Can he take it?” the general asked. “He looks like he wouldn’t last more than a quarter hour.”

“You can get at least an hour out of him. A few days if you pace yourself. I bought him from a Moroccan brothel.”

That impressed the general. He knew about Moroccan brothels.

They were on the tennis courts of the Armed Forces Officer Training Academy in the country’s capital city. Every Saturday morning, General Mabele hosted what appeared to be an impromptu round-robin tennis exercise invitational for his officers and interested members of the foreign diplomatic community. In truth, it was a major information-gathering and deal-making venue in which Mabele kept his hand on the pulse of the nation’s business and its interactions with foreign countries. The nation was a volatile one, experienced in changes of leadership by coup, and Mabele was possibly the second-most powerful figure in the country, behind the president, who Mabele currently supported, not just in policy, but with backup military force. Mabele ruled the country’s army with an iron fist and by personal, tribal loyalty. The president was from a different tribe, so the balance was tenuous.

Coup or no coup? The possibility of one lingered in the air and was the cause of much activity in the foreign diplomatic corp. The Americans were at the forefront of working to tip the balance in their favor. They had discovered General Mabele’s sexual preference. They were willing to back him as the next president here if he cooperated with them.

The general had locked his attention on Nick as soon as he and Doug Taney arrived at the army school tennis courts. Taney, of course, had planned that this be the case. Nick’s pristine white tennis gear, designed to fit his perfect form closely made him stand out against the older diplomats and African army officers who had come out to the six adjacent courts. The sleek, youthful body of the young blond attracted even more attention when he stripped his tennis shirt off. It was so hot on the courts that most of the men played bare-chested. The general was bare-chested as well. He was magnificently muscular and of a glistening ebony hue. The scars on his chest, honestly won in battle, only enhanced the arousal he surfaced in any man who was so inclined.

When Nick played across the net from the general, the electricity between the two, Nick for a muscular, massive black man, and Mabele for a slim, young blond, was almost palpable. Their imaginations raised the identical image—Mabele lying on top of a squirming but completely controlled Nick on the tennis court, mounted and stroking.

The courts accommodated twenty-four players at a time and there were more than thirty in attendance. The weather was blazing hot and humid enough to cut with a knife, and the players paused for lengthy times to replace fluids and to do the business that brought most of them out in the first place.

Nick was the only one there younger than twenty. He also was the best-looking man there. It was almost more than General Mabele, who buzzed around him, trying to find out who this beautiful new young man was—where he came from and what he was doing there—could bear. Doug Taney was fairly new to the country too and was assumed to be connected with the Station—the intelligence office—of the American embassy. Was the young man a new employee there too? Nick claimed to be on vacation from a college in the States and Taney hinted to selected men that Nick might somehow be related to him. So, the rumor spread that Nick was Taney’s son.

After Mabele had maneuvered to be taking a break at the same time as Nick was, Nick having shown, thanks to his college sports training, that he played tennis well, and had, for a second time, devoted attention to Nick, the others interested in the young man knew to back off. No one tangled with General Mabele, especially when he was in heat. Seeing the general’s interests had been established, Taney managed to be alone with the general long enough to offer Nick to him in exchange for his cooperation with the U.S. intelligence plan to move him into the presidency via a military coup.

“Ramifications when the young man disappears?” the general asked.

“All covered. It will be as he never existed,” Taney answered.

“You know what I’m asking—why I’m asking it?” the general said.

“It’s perfectly clear. The young man will be yours to use and dispose of as you like. No one will question it if he disappears.”

“How will I know he’s worth the effort. He looks good, but he may not be enjoyable.”

“You can try him out before deciding.”

Thus, when the tennis session was winding down and General Mabele offered to show Doug Taney and Nick around the school building adjacent to the tennis courts, Taney begged off but said that Nick should go ahead and take the tour. Nick readily agreed without even asking how he would get back to Taney’s house.

But Nick didn’t just fall conveniently in the plan. He smiled and said, “I’m soaked with sweat from the workout on the court. Maybe we could make arrangements for another time.”

“This is an army facility,” Mabele said, “and physical training is a key part of our program. We have showers and locker room facilities in the school building. You brought other clothes you can change into, didn’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” Nick answered.

“Well, then, shall we take a look at the school? I’ll have my chauffeur take him where he needs to go,” Mabele said, with a smile, turning to speak to Taney and not waiting for Nick to answer. Both Taney and the general knew that where Nick would be taken wouldn’t be back to Taney’s house, if Mabele was pleased with how Nick took his cock. What the general didn’t know, though, was that Nick also knew he would be going elsewhere.

Nick didn’t know he’d be fucked right there at the school, though, with General Mabele believing it was Nick’s first time with a man.

Nick put on a good performance as the general, with two hefty lieutenants standing outside the door on guard, wrapped his arm around Nick in the communal shower room, under the running shower head, and grabbed the young man’s cock with one hand and captured Nick’s lips with his own. The two had been standing, naked, under shower heads at opposite ends of the shower chamber and had been eying each other. Mabele had a massive, muscular build and a thick, jet-black cock that would have hung low, descending from an unruly, curly-hear bush, if he hadn’t been in full erection. Nick looked like a Michelangelo angel. He too was in erection, so the two men didn’t need an interpreter to speak the attraction they had for each other.

In keeping with the chaste persona he was trying to sell, Nick broke away from the embrace and moved toward the doorway into the locker room, but the strong Mabele, moving like a jungle cat, intercepted him, wrapped his arms around the young man, and drew him back into the interior of the shower room and under a cascade of water. The two men wrestled, Nick obviously losing traction as Mabele manhandled him, pushed him up against the tiled wall, choked him into breathless submission with a grip on the young man’s throat while he was exploring Nick’s body with his other hand, and put him on his cock.

Pressing Nick’s chest into the soap-slicked back wall, the general had one arm wrapped around Nick’s belly and the other hand at Nick’s throat, arching the young man’s head back into the hollow of Mabele’s shoulder, while Nick screamed bloody murder and the general mounted, penetrated, and fucked him from the rear, thinking he was taking the young man for the first time, and reveling in his victory—and in Nick’s screams of stretching violation.

He muttered, “You’re fucked now. Relax, open to me. You’ll take it better.”

Pulling away from the wall, Mabele went into a slight crouch, held Nick to him, the young man’s ass skewered on his cock, Nick bent over and his legs and arms dangling, his feet off the shower floor, and used the strength of his forearm wrapped around Nick’s belly to pull him on and off the shaft. Accepting his defeat, Nick relaxed as directed and as he was far more schooled in that Mabele realized—or wanted to believe—and Mabele fucked the young man to his buried ejaculation. Nick had already come, his seed dribbling down his thighs.

Mabele let Nick’s body puddle down to the wet floor of the shower and he came down hovered on top of the trembling body. Mabele glided his hands over Nick’s body, quietening the young man down and whispering words of approval and consolation to him. Nick stiffened as he assumed he should when the general said they’d do it again in a few minutes, but then he relaxed, opened his stance to give greater access to his curves and crevices to the general’s searching hand, and moaned his total surrender.

After letting Nick rest while the general cooed to him about how desirable and nice he was, the general said, “Since you took it so well and have now done it with a man, you have two choices—I can use you again and have my men throw you into the river, or you can willingly come to my house and submit to me as I want. If you choose to come with me, you will have to willingly serve me.”

Nick chose life—as it was predetermined that he would. And when the general laid him out on the wet, tiled floor of the shower room, Nick lay there, panting and whimpering, but taking the black cock for a second time, propped up on his elbows, and watching down the length of his slim, trembling body, as Mabele, kneeling below him, knees pushed under Nick’s buttocks to raise the young man’s hips, grasped Nick’s knees with his hands and spread them, as his mammoth cock moved in and out of Nick’s hole. The general moved over Nick’s body, snaking an arm under the young man’s lower back, pulling Nick up, close, underneath him. He was fucking deeper, harder, faster. Nick groaned, dug his fingernails into the ebony man’s shoulder blades, wrapped his legs around the man’s meaty buttocks, and panted hard as his hips moved with the fuck. He wasn’t acting anymore. He was lost to the fuck.

“Yes, you want it now,” Mabele growled as he pumped.

“Yes, yes, fuck me!” Yes, completely independent of the plan, Nick did want it from the virile, demanding general with the monster cock now. And he was getting it now.

The young man gauged his acceptance of his plight and slowly over the next few days introduced the ways of pleasing a man that he had been taught earlier in his travels across Europe and then at the brothel in Tangier.

The general was flattered that he had brought out the talented willingness in the luscious young blond. He put off a terminal-use session as he was getting such good sport from the young man. Increasingly, though, higher arousal could only come with crueler use. Time was not on Nick’s side.

* * * *

Nick held there, suspended over the police chief’s muscular body, his palms and feet flat on the mattress, in the position of the crab, his face facing the revolving ceiling fan overhead, his body shimmering and trembling, as General Mabele pumped his cum up into the soft core of the young man. The man seemed to have an endless reservoir of cum. Mabele, like most powerful men in his country, was a macho man who would have nothing to do with condoms. Mabele then withdrew his cock from Nick’s ass in a long glide that tore a gasp and sigh out of the young man, pulled Nick’s his body down on top of his in a close embrace, fisted Nick’s cock, and relentlessly and vigorously stroked the young man off.

Mabele was still half hard when he released his close embrace, rolled Nick to one side of the bed, and rolled to the other edge himself and sat on the side of the bed. Nick moved to behind the back of the black giant and wrapped his arms around the general’s waist. Nick kissed and licked the general’s back while both of his hands, each able to take a grip on the shaft without touching each other, encased the black man’s cock and started working it up again.

The general laughed. “You can’t get enough of it, can you, my little chicken?” he said.

“No, I can’t,” Nick murmured. “I know you have more—that you want more.” It was Nick’s assignment to ensnare and keep a sexual hold over the general—to keep the general wanting him, keeping him alive until the mission was completed—but it wasn’t all an act. He wound his torso around Mabele’s hips, moving his head to the general’s lap. He took the mammoth cock in his mouth, flicking his tongue on the piss slit. It was the general’s turn to moan. But, after a minute of this, he laughed, pushed Nick away, rose from the bed and moved into the adjacent bathroom, leaving the door open.

“I would like more, yes, but there’s a meeting to go to—an important meeting.” He moved about the bathroom, at the sink, at the toilet, and then in the shower. Nick lay on the bed, within the general’s line of sight, and stroked his cock in an enticing pose while the general went about his business. Mabele was still in erection, though, when he came out of the shower.

“Come here,” he gruffly said, and Nick came out of the bed and into the bathroom. He sat on the toilet, with the general crouched over him, and held Mabele’s hips between his hands, while the general fucked his throat, holding Nick’s head in his hands to guide him, and lubricated Nick’s tonsils with his ejaculate.

Nick took advantage of General Mabele’s absence for his meeting by going into the city to the American consulate. He took his time and circuitous routes going there. It wouldn’t do for the general to know that Nick was still in contact with his American control officer, Doug Taney. Taney wasn’t at the consulate when Nick got there, but the young man was told to wait for him. When he entered the security sound chamber, called a SCIF, where Nick was waiting for him, Taney was angry.

“He’s stiffed us.”

Nick knew better than to ask who Taney was talking about. For all Nick knew the spy controller was running other projects here than the subornation of General Mabele. But Taney’s anger was about Mabele after all. The meeting the general had gone to was with Taney.

“Your general has turned us down. He wouldn’t let us sponsor him in a coup.”

“General Mabele?”

“Yes. General Mabele. It’s not your fault, of course. I’ll be clear about that. You’ve done a great job. He just thinks he can have his pleasure and his independence at the same time. Well, we’ll show him.”

“We will?” Nick asked.

“Yes. You won’t be going back to him.”

“I won’t?” Nick said, being surprised that it disappointed him that he wouldn’t be under General Mabele again. It only now hit him how much he enjoyed being cocked by the man.

“No. But it’s probably for you own good. He won’t have any reason not to just finish you off now. Mabele isn’t the only general who likes fucking young blond guys. And he isn’t the only general who has ambitions to be president. Mabele’s position isn’t as secure as he thinks it is.”

“And you want me . . . ?”

“He’s a lush. Our other general. We know his favorite bars. We’ll put you in one as a bartender. You’ll knock him dead. You’ll have to be careful of him, though. He’s sadistic as hell.”

Like Mabele wasn’t, Nick thought.

* * * *

“You are new here,” the general said, leaning over the bar and touching Nick’s forearm, as the young man stood just across the bar top from Diako, polishing a glass. It was a lame pickup line, but Nick wasn’t going to make the general have to work at picking him up.

“I was a gap-year adventure in travel and this is as far as my money got me.” This was true, but, oh what a change of course his life took from Monaco, where his money had first given out. Now he was doing his best just to survive. “When I’ve made some more, I’ll go on. I was headed toward Cape Town.”

“There are some wild times to be had in Cape Town,” Diako said, giving Nick a sharp look, testing on where that could go. Nick had been meeting his steady gaze since Diako had come in. The general had moved to the bar when he’d shown interest and seen the young man return it. Diako was a big, muscular black man. That seemed to be a requisite to rising to the general ranks and staying there for any length of time in this central African country that was as close to a fittest-take-all civilization edge as anywhere in the world.

“I’ve heard it has strong men as well,” Nick said, moving the next step into this dance.

“You prefer men?”

“Yes,” Nick answered, giving the general a level look. “Strong ones; African ones.”

“We have strong men right here,” Diako said, his eyes, again, piercing Nick’s. He had been touching Nick’s forearm with his fingers. Now he closed his hand on the arm and squeezed. Nick winced, showing it in his eyes—not just the pain, but willing himself to show arousal as well. Diako had a reputation for roughness. The young man didn’t move his arm away, though.

“So I’ve learned,” he said.

“You know this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you in here before,” Diako said.

“I don’t think so. I don’t think I saw you here before. You are a man I’d remember.”

“Fondly?” Diako said, and smiled.

“I don’t think ‘fondly’ is a word I’d use for it. More dangerous . . . and interesting.”

“Interesting? You like strong, dangerous, demanding men?” the general asked.

“Yes.”

“I had you checked out. You’ve been in General Mabele’s house.”

“Yes.”

“And in his bed.”

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you there now?”

The moment had come. “He isn’t satisfying enough.”

“Not satisfying. I understood his has the biggest cock in the land.”

“It isn’t just size,” Nick said, going for broke. “It’s what you do with it. Satisfaction comes from what it can do—sometimes how cruelly it can be used.”

“I can be cruel,” Diako said, squeezing Nick’s forearm harder.

“So I’ve heard. I’ve check you out too, General Diako.” They hadn’t exchanged names to that point.

“Then you know what I like? That I like young American blonds? How old are you?”

“I’m nineteen.”

“Perfect. You know that I like young American blonds and that I like to use them hard?”

“Yes, so I’ve heard.”

“And you would—?”

“I think you need to talk with someone,” Nick said, gesturing over toward a table in a shadowed corner. Doug Taney was sitting at the table, an empty chair pulled away from the table beside him. He was closely watching Nick and the general talking and his hand was positioned to invite the chair next to him to be occupied.

“Is he your pimp?” Diako asked. “Isn’t he from the American embassy? I believe he’s a spy.”

“If you want me, you’ll go talk with him about what he wants. He tells me that he wants what you want as well—to move up in power here.”

“And if I talk to the man over there and he says I can have you?”

“Then you can have me.”

“Any way I want you?”

“Any way you want me.”

Diako went and talked to Taney. When he came back to the bar, he was smiling. He didn’t belly up to the customer side of the bar. He came around to the narrow space behind. Seeing the evil lust in the man’s eyes, Nick backed up, but Diako lashed out, surprising Nick with a punch to the cheek and then one to the belly that made Nick go down in a heap. The general was on top of him in an instant, pulling off Nick’s trousers and briefs and unzipping his own fly. Nick was still dazed, as he lay under the African general, who had an arm under the young man’s waist, raising Nick’s pelvis, his buttocks rolled up, for cruel, raw, unprepared, stretching and pumping of the brutal general’s cock. Nick moaned from behind the bar as the general’s buttocks rose and fell in long, taking thrusts. Slowly recovering, Nick dug his fingernails in the black bull’s buttocks and rocked with the fuck.

Taney remained seated across the room. The deal had been struck.

* * * *

General Diako was so ecstatic about the success of the coup that made him president in the central African country that he didn’t notice for days afterward that Nick was no longer there. When he did notice, he was so busy dealing with other coup attempts that he just let the young man’s absence pass him by.

On the private plane heading out of Africa with Nick and Doug Taney aboard, Taney came out of the forward compartment, where a meeting had been going on, to the middle compartment, where sixteen plush seats, four across, split by the aisle, and four rows deep, were located and sat down beside Nick, who was all alone in the compartment. He placed a possessive hand on Nick’s knee.

Doug Taney wasn’t really Doug Taney. He was Sam Winterberry, chief of the CIA’s Candy Story unit, which used young women and men, like Nick, for special operations that entailed the use of sex. Usually the agents they used were recruited—sometimes voluntarily, more often through blackmail—and trained for the work. The Africa coup operation had been on a short string. Sam had had to go to a brothel for his “talent.”

“You did very well back there, Nick.”

“Thanks . . . I guess,” Nick replied.

“But we have a problem.”

“I wouldn’t tell,” Nick said. “Just get me back to the States and let me go back to my life. I plan to enter college in September.”

“It’s not really that simple. I think you can understand that. You’ve been through a lot. It’s something we can’t let go public.”

Nick didn’t say anything. He turned his face toward the window of the aircraft flying high above the water now. He was trembling. He couldn’t help it. He was close to tears, as well. “Are you going to kill me?” he managed to gather the nerve to say.

“That’s what the meeting was about up front,” Winterberry said. “That seems the most prudent option, but I was impressed by your talents—talents we need in my office and we don’t have enough of for the moment.”

“Which is why you bought me and gave me to monsters who might have killed me at any moment.”

“Work with me here, Nick. You aren’t in the best position. You could have been bought by one of those Arabs in that Moroccan brothel. Do you think you’d be alive now if you had been? I think you are practical and are a survivor—and I think you enjoyed most of what happened to you. We’ve decided to give you a choice.”

“A choice?”

“I’ll be honest with you. We’re over water at thirty-seven-thousand feet. That choice would not be painful for you very long, and it would be assuring for us.”

“Or?” This option hadn’t lessened Nick’s trembling.

“You can come to work for me. We’ll pay for your college, which you’d have to fit in around assignments, but you’d be locked into taking the assignments I give you. And I would claim total loyalty and cooperation or we’d invoke the other option.”

“Total loyalty and cooperation?”

“Yes, which would be sealed by a visit to the aft compartment.” The aft compartment in the plane was a bedroom. Winterberry stood and extended a hand to Nick. “Shall we?”

Nick stood and followed Winterberry into the aft compartment, and thus his formal work for the CIA Candy Store unit began.