My name is Han. I am twenty years old. I am a denizen of New York, the most prodigal city in the world and quite equally the most effete of human compassion. ***
I arrived first in San Francisco, California, two years ago. I was scared and xenophobic. I felt like an exile, and worse, acted like one, running scared and hiding from humanity. I became a refugee in my own anonymity.
I drifted in and out of the university where I was studying Visual Arts and Contemporary Writing 101, flitting about as if I were a ghost and after six months, could count my friends on the fingers of half a hand. Things were not going well: my professor had said that at the rate I was going, I was not going to amount to any greatness as a writer. I had not submitted anything decent to her since my first assignment at the start of the course, and even that was a pastiche of a previously-published piece penned by a little-known writer from my home country. Girls did not give me a second glance and if they did, it was out of a curiosity about my gender. Some guys shot me a knowing smile as if they suspected my _s_e_x_ual identity. I was far from campy, wore clothes that I regarded were kitsch, imitated the models in 'Details" and grew my hair long, and yet they seemed to know.
I thought about and wrote home everyday. Father missed me terribly, or so my mother claimed. I fantasized about my father and recollected how it felt to be naked on his laps stretched out for a spanking or seated down for a lecture. I became horny when I felt once more the chimers of his ancient fingers spread apart my bottom cheeks to study my most private body parts before giving me what I needed and desired. I orgasmed as I felt his fingers curled around my penis under me almost as if he were milking me while he smacked my defenseless bottom.
I had yearned for a long time for something to change in my life but it was becoming apparent that the closer I came to realizing this longing, the more deeply I was missing the old life. How right was the novelist Proust when he said that we always got what we wanted when we no longer wanted it.
I was lonely. I masturbated so much that the foreskin of my uncut penis was raw and tender, and for a time I was in agony to put on underwear. So I didn't.
The first summer of my American sojourn came and I boarded a plane for New York to seek out an old boyfriend and fellow countryman, the very beautiful, inimitable and hurtful Ky.
Ky was ambivalent about seeing me. He was not unhappy, of course. But he had a new boyfriend, a very tall, red-haired New Yorker who wore faded army fatigues by day and nothing more than a jock-strap by night. Ky and Ted shared an apartment and Ted was incensed at the idea of a new addition to their blissful fold. That Ted was territorial would not be overstating it. This was apparent in his displeasure at Ky's agreeing to put me up in the guest room during my month-long visit.
Ky and Ted entertained a fair bit. It was at one of their all-male parties one evening half-way through my stay that my life took a dramatic turn yet again.
Blame it on jealousy. Blame it on the beer. But I had also been hurt that Ky had not paid me any attention the entire evening, especially after I had toiled for half a precious day over the Japanese hors d'euvres that were such a hit with his buddies. So armed with a new-found effrontery, fueled partly by the tequila, I confronted him.
"Have you had enough?" I asked in my flawless English. "You've been making a fool of yourself all evening, carrying on so shamelessly with beanpole here."
I did not think anybody else could have heard me ridicule Ky above all the revelry but Ky thought otherwise. Scowling up at me, he got up from Ted's knee, gripped my puny arm in one firm hand and dragged me with him to his room. When he had slammed the door hard behind him, I knew I was in for it.
"You stupid, ungrateful, ill-mannered little boy," Ky hissed, shoving me onto the bed. "You forget that you are staying under my roof as my guest. If you don't like what goes on here, you can leave."
Before I could do or say anything, Ky was shredding my clothes and I found myself naked in his formidable presence. He turned me on my stomach and threw my buttocks up with a couple of pillows placed under my crotch. He grasped my penis and testicles roughly and pulled them out from beneath me so that they were visibly pointed towards him. He ordered me to spread my knees, and fearful of his petulance, I obeyed.
"You created trouble all the time back home," Ky spat, "and now you bring your mischief here. When will you grow up?"
I kept mum. Whatever I said now would be a statement of compunction and I had none. I said what I felt and meant it. Better to face the consequences now and make a peace offering later. Besides, it was what I had been after - getting Ky to notice me. It had been too long.
My elation making a clear trajectory downward to my groin, I heard Ky return from the task of rummaging through a closet for what I could not tell. But I soon felt it. It was a new kind of sensation, and felt at the first stroke like being forcefully hosed with seltzer. The next few strokes stunned me and by the twentieth, the joy of my serendipity vanished and my bottom felt as though it was being struck by the burning element of a stove.
By the fiftieth lash, I had had enough. I turned back, ignoring Ky's prepunishment warning not to, and my arms raised to my buttocks in an instinctive move to block an imminent blow. Ky's thick belt crashed on my writing hand and I screamed, imaging the permanent damage he might have effected to it. Ky's face paled, proleptic of my own terror, and he let his belt drop from his hand. He asked if my hands were all right. No damage - not much, I whispered.
Ky said that in that case, he ought to resume punishing me by hand spanking me. Quickly I thought that now would be a good time to sing my lament. I apologized vehemently, explaining that I had not meant to make a fool of him in front of his friends, that I had not been myself, that I had just felt left out and ignored. Then my tears sprang to my eyes right on cue.
I thought that my little-boy tears would get me off the hook. I could always wrap Ky around my fingers. But this time I was mistaken. Ky was a changed man. He was tougher, more cynical, less easily manipulated. It excited me that he was starting to resemble my father. But it also worried me.
"You always did have an inflated sense of self-importance," Ky said, confirming my fear. "It had always been what you needed, what you wanted, what you had to have. Always you. Well, you want attention, do you? Fine - you're getting it and good! Come on!
I was picked up by my wrists which he tightly manacled with his large hands and horror-struck, I was being dragged back in the direction of the living room. I tried negotiating with his sense of decency and compassion to let me go or at least put my clothes on, for God's sake, but he slapped my face instead, not too hard so maybe I still had a place in his voluminously tender heart, and said unequivocally that he was going to resume punishing me for my impertinence but outside this time and in front of Ted, whom I had so irascibly insulted, and the party which needed livening up about now.
The curtain closed on the party as soon as Ky had me where he wanted me, in front of the food table where the bulk of the revellers was gathered en masse. Humiliated beyond belief to be standing at center-stage before all his friends naked as the day I was born, and at my penis, hardening and stretched to five inches already and still growing, and at my ugly little tummy distending from the beer and too much wind, it was all I could do to squirm and struggle against my cruel but handsome captor. I doubled over to try to conceal as much of my nakedness as possible.
Ky called Ted over and quickly announced that I should now be suitably spanked like the spoilt little brat I had acted earlier and that Ted should have the honour of doing it first, followed by himself. I cried in embarrassment and begged him, in our mother tongue now, to release me. My pleas brought on a succession of guffaws from the others who obviously found the arrangement of phonemes of my vernacular rather quaint.
Then forcing me to bend over from my waist, and pressing down on my spine, gently so as not to inflict irreversible damage, Ky served up my naked smelly bottom to my willing new spanker. Ted took to walloping my cheeks helterskelter, putting first my left cheek aflame, then my right, and concentrating on my right for an indeterminate time until he realized he had neglected the other. I was soon reduced to a flailing, howling lunatic, with nowhere to go and completely at my captors' mercy. He kept at the spanking for a long time, goaded and incited by my appreciative audience. With my ankles spread about level with my shoulders, I was certain, and the thought of this left me with a sinking feeling, that everything was exposed between my baby-smooth pink cheeks. I heard Ky inviting Ted to spank me on my virgin hole for that was where I liked it most, he said. Ted was happily complaisant. I shrieked as Ted achieved bull's eye at every embarrassing attempt. Ted kept up the spanking as if he were possessed or had just discovered a proclivity late in his life and was making up for lost time.
I heard Ky later saying it was enough but I realized that he had not meant enough for me when he straightened me up and pulled me to his armchair near the radiator and then spread me out on his laps while he got comfortable in it. He hooked his right leg over my left thigh, spreading my bottom open and once again exposing my anus which must stand out in its scarlet redness between my pink buttock cheeks, a lingering vestige of Ky's belt and Ted's hand spank. Ky then continued where Ted left off. I made quite a commotion with my crying, wailing and pleading that I believed Ky would have to stop for the sake of the neighbors. But he simply spanked harder hell-bent on making a spectacle of my unbridled outbursts of shame and humiliation. Then, to my umpteenth horror this evening, in perfect tandem with his well-placed smack at the center of my anus, I emitted an incredible fart, and this brought on a renewed series of guffaws from the watchers who must be feeling that this had to be the highlight of the party. I soon feasted them with what must be its climactic end when I climaxed screaming, twisting and pumping away until every last drop of my semen was laid waste on Ky's jean-clad laps. When I came round, spent and sweaty, I realized that the crowd were clapping their hands. Still lying face-down on Ky's laps, I threw my arms over the back of my head and surrendered to my compulsion to cry. I could never get up again, I felt. I could never look at any of them either.
But Ky forcibly lifted me up and flung me off his laps. I fell onto his imitation Sorbonne carpet with my legs ridiculously spread open to show off my little two and a half inch appendage, much to everyone else's delight. To this day I would never know where I found the nerve to get myself up, so ashamed was I that I felt that if there should be an earthquake to open up the floor and swallow me into the abyss, now ought to be the time. But get up I did. And seething with a rage I knew so well, I told Ky that I despised him and then stumbled the short distance back to the guest room, pushing and elbowing a few people on the way, my tears flowing unchecked down my face.
Later in bed, I found that I was not crying anymore, not even weeping, at the awfulness of Ky's deed. This surprised me considering how easily given to tears I had been told I was. But I could not sleep for nursing my hard-again six-inch penis. For some reason, I must have found the entire experience earlier perversely exciting.
"You monster," I began on Ky as he sat on the edge of my bed. The last of his guests had left. The house was quiet. I did not know where Ted was but I could care less.
Ky hastened to stop me spitting out my censure, crawling under the covers and groping for my burning buttocks to caress them.
"You were marvellous tonight, sweetheart," he cooed, "a hit. Didn't you hear the crowd?" The way he was succouring me now with his concomitant tenderness I could almost forget that he had been pernicious towards me. And then when he turned me over and clamped his wet, sensuous mouth on mine, I had all but forgiven him.
Before the night was over, Ky had persuaded me to move to New York for good and thrown out an oddly-relieved Ted.