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I promised myself I wouldn't cry.The slim bamboo cane cracks against my bare back, flicking away a line of sweat with each blow. One after another the lashes paint over the older welts that line my skin. Bruises that had been just about done healing flare up again, and they pulse with dull throbs when those new streaks of fire cut over them. The floorboards are cold against my naked torso, and my nipples are pebbled and hard against the wood. Between the howls I snivel, panting like a bitch until the polished surface under me is damp with my breath, spotted with tears and saliva.I'm sobbing: tears drip down my nose, the back of my throat tastes salty. Spittle flies with each yelp I let out.It really is fucking amazing that a layer of cotton could make all the difference.At first I thought this was going to be the same old shit. I could handle it, I said to myself. I've had to get on all fours and clench my teeth before, and every time I was just about able to take everything the old man dished out. I wish he'd just leave me the fuck alone. It's not like dad would ever know if I just spent all my time in Japan dicking around instead of training.But then Gouken told me to undo my belt and strip off my uwa-gi before lying on the floor. So there I was in my red leggings: bare-chested, the autumn air pricking my skin, about to get another beating when I winced at the next command.“Ryu, hold down his ankles.”God fucking dammit!I bit my tongue and said nothing, just fumed and told myself to take this punishment like a man. The new setup made me nervous of course. Shirtless? Being held down? Was the old man just fucking with my head?The heat flushed to my face when I felt Ryu's hands grip my bare ankles, pressing his weight down to keep a firm grip. I tried wiggling my feet a little to see how much slack he gave me. Not much.The first blow caught me by surprise then. I arched back, choking even as I gasped. My elbows dragged across the floor as I pulled my arms in reflexively, but Ryu held me steady and kept me from thrashing too much.A second blow came, and a third. A layer of cotton would've absorbed the bite of the stick. It would've kept those knobs of the bamboo cane from bruising too much. I would've at least felt like I had a little protection! I'd already lost count a handful of blows in, too busy squealing in pain from the razor edge of that rod to think of anything else. The sound of that cane cracking against my skin rang in my ears.Ever since I was sent here I'd been beaten regularly for starting shit, but for the first time I was really losing it. My breath heaved and I coughed wetly against the floor. I sobbed. I howled. The blows came again and again, and I was about to break and beg Gouken to stop, just please stop! Was he trying to kill me?!And finally, for a moment, the rhythm of the beating hits a pause. There's sweet relief in that moment, but there's a tension too, because I know it's not over yet.The tip of that slim bamboo stick prods at my chin now, and I lift my head to look up to Gouken. The dude has fucking scary eyes when he's angry, but I've always been able to meet an authority stare for stare and grin like I don't give a shit. This time I can only manage the stare.“That’s twenty, Ken. You have another ten more to go. Would you like to rest for a minute or get it over with?”For a moment I just meet his gaze silently: chest heaving, throat bobbing with each hard swallow. Fuck you, old man! I think to myself. As if he's gonna do favors for me. I’ve lived through more than enough “This is for your own good” and “This’ll build character” speeches and I don't need any more of this crap. I'm aching, and by this point I just want to die already.“Keh,” I grunt, and quietly I put my face to the floor and let him get on with it.I can be obedient when it suits me.I hate this place. I hate this dojo in the middle of nowhere, this old karate sensei who should've been jailed for abuse long ago. No good coffee shops within fifty miles. No wifi. No girls. Still, that isn't the worst part.I have my beef with the little brown-haired Japanese country boy that's supposed to be my sparring partner.I flinch at the sound of the bamboo cane cutting through the air, and soon I'm yowling like a cat again. __________ I've always been popular with the girls.I mean just look at me. Cute, smooth, a bit of a bad boy, and rich to boot. Everything a girl could ever want. I catch them staring at me from across the classroom, see them turn and whisper to each other when I pass them in the halls. I give 'em a special treat during my gym period, since I'm the first to strip my shirt off just as we head into the locker rooms. I'd be sticky with sweat, my chest clenched and hard, and when I give them the side-eye and a lopsided grin I can see them blush and reach between their legs. More than once I've seen 'em peek in on the MMA club after school, just to see me sweat even more.It'd never taken much to sweet-talk 'em into the bedroom... a smile, an arm wrapped around their middle from behind, a nuzzle and a kiss, with me drinking in that sweet girl-scent. Sometimes I'll even slip my fingertips beneath the waistband of their pants, just barely teasing the edge of their curls. I don't go so far as to finger 'em... not usually, but to anyone looking it'll seeem like an accident. The fun part is in seeing how far I can take it, doing this in front of her friends. Once I even dipped down lower and swirled a chick's moist little clit while her boyfriend watched. You should've seen how he'd turned pink.He'd done nothing about it though. Soft little dweeb as he was he knew I could kick his ass, and that since my dad was one of the major donors to the school I had some real pull to dick him over even if he was willing to risk getting bloodied up over a little tease like that.No one fucks with me. Unless I want 'em to.Of course my caretakers didn't approve, not under my dad's roof. At first they tried to keep me by the scruff of my neck, keep a close eye on my personal time. I'd always been able to outrun or outsmart them, though. If they were really pissed they called me a spoiled brat, and I laughed. When they were frustrated they said I had no shame, and I just grinned. Eventually they stopped trying to keep me on a leash and just looked the other way when I nicked dad's booze, vaped, or got into scrapes in general.Ha. I can hear you judging me, and I'm not even mad, yo. I'm laughing my ass off thinking about that offended look on your face. Doesn't matter if you're some pearl-clutching conservative thinking about the girls' innocence or some PC feminist liberal trying to find my facebook page so you can play the keyboard warrior and chew me out. It's all bullshit. A guy my age has a healthy appetite. It's perfectly natural. Plus I know how to play the game. Why the fuck would anyone have the right to tell me I can't give a girl what she wants?Or maybe you're jealous.Don't lie. You just read about my escapades and deep down the first thing you thought of was "why can't that be me? Why could I never be a stud like that?" Maybe you're some virgin whining about chads like me taking up all the pussy while you jerk off in front of your laptop. I dunno what to say to you, man. Maybe some of us are just Alpha Males by nature. Maybe society's just told you to keep your nuts on a leash for so long you don't even feel the cuff around your shriveled little berries anymore.Believe it or not, I get it, man. I know you've seen someone you've wanted to fuck. And I know you've hesitated. "Oh no, what if she rejects me? What if she gets creeped out?" And you just play the wallflower. You've failed before you even started. You've never given yourself a chance.Or maybe you've been bold enough to start by asking her out. Maybe you tried to treat her right, take it slow, up until the third date. Maybe you got far enough to stutter out the offer still afraid that she might say no, and then she does just that saying she's tired or she's got homework or whatever. So you gotta walk home with your cock still swollen and your tail between your legs. Or maybe in the end you were able to manage a good thirty seconds of awkward humping, if you haven't emptied your blue balls into your shorts the moment you saw her tits.Waste of fucking time, if you ask me.Me, I've never held myself back. I've never wondered if it was okay. I've never worried about a girl saying no. All that's on my mind is how much I wanna to slide my dick into her heat. No hesitation. No condom. No asking, even. I just start touching, with warm kisses and nimble fingers and a whole lotta firsthand knowledge about a girl's sweet spots that I've earned over the years. Girls almost never reject me, so I've never been afraid of them saying no.You'd be surprised how often a bitch will lie back and spread her legs once you work past the initial hesitation on her part.And if they do say no? Just a little something in their drink makes them a touch more pliable.
See? Easy.Okay I know what you're thinking. "Yo Ken, what's all this shit got to do with the rest of the story?" Just setting up the mood, so just chill. You gotta know this about me for the rest of my story to make sense in the pages to come. __________ Each time sensei beats me Ryu has to sit off to the side and watch because we we're supposed to be sparring partners. Brothers in training. This is the fifth time in a month or so that I got the rough treatment, and like always Ryu just watches from afar. There isn’t fury in his eyes, or shame that he has to participate in my humiliation. No, it's disappointment and pity.
Pity!
I hate my father for shipping me off to this rural backwater, but I'm not going to forgive pity.Now here's Ryu, a guy no older than me, holding down my ankles as I squeal and writhe under the cane, trying to keep me from kicking too much. I can feel him watching as sensei rakes my back with bright red slashes one after the other, laying them evenly across my skin. Gouken pauses with each stroke so one sting doesn't dull me to the next: just hard enough to make me scream, but just light enough that he doesn’t break skin.And then it's over.For a few minutes I lie on my belly, weeping at the master’s feet. I'm able to choke back most of it, but a few sobs leak out. My face is wet with tears and snot and spittle.“Ryu, you are dismissed.”I don’t need to hear the little swish of cloth to know that Ryu had bowed. “Osu,” he says firmly. Yeah, what a fucking little angel.When the screen door shuts Gouken taps my shoulder with the cane, “Stand up.” I stumble as I clamber to my feet. My knees ache from scraping then against the floor as I kicked, my feet are numb from how Ryu had squeezed my ankles when he held me, but I’ll be damned if I can't take his speech standing. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. My wrist is damp with sweat, and I end up just smearing the wetness across my face instead. Yeah, real dignified.Normally I would be smirking or rolling my eyes over the Moral of the Story, but right now I'm not in the mood. I just stare at the floor and sway unsteadily. Maybe it's from standing too quick or from the adrenaline crash, but I'm lightheaded and dizzy.“Ken, your father sent you to me to be tamed. To make you a man. If you cannot learn honor, it will be a long time before I let you go. If you cannot learn humility, well, it will take you even longer to learn honor.”Silence.“You will not have supper tonight, Ken. Dismissed.”Yeah, like I love your fucking fish and pickled vegetables so much.I amble away on shaky legs, and when I slide open the screen door Ryu is waiting for me in the hall, leaning coolly against a support beam. His arms are crossed.God I hate him.“Do you need some help?” he asks.“No,” I grunt, but he still walks by my side as we make our way to our room. Like he's going to forgive me that easily.Of course he would forgive me that easily. That’s the problem with the little fuck. The guy's quiet, he’s serious. He can sit still on the mat and meditate for hours while I’m twitching and thinking about getting some hot tail, all while resisting the urge to play with my boner. Ryu is the kinda guy who’ll do as sensei commands: washing the floor, running laps, all with an exuberant “Osu!” without coming off as a little suckup. He’s too independent to be a real brown-noser, too obedient to be likable.He pulls his punches when we spar, and he still manages to kick my ass. It's obvious there's a gap between us even though I've been doing MMA since middle school, but afterwards there isn't even a hint of smugness on his face when he helps me up. It’s impossible to find a genuine reason to hate the guy even when he’s wiping the floor with my ass, or outrunning me, or making me look bad because he’s a freaking angel in comparison. It’s intolerable.Worst part is he’s cute. Ryu is as smooth-skinned as any girl I’ve seen, his eyes are warm and bright, and his hair had been burned by the sun to an almond tint. His body’s fit, too… smooth, lean, and firm from what I could tell through the contact from sparring. Ryu’s face is set like stone, his gaze piercing, always wearing that serious, businesslike look with more maturity than normal for his age. That probably freaks me out the most, having to quietly meditate while sitting next to a guy who looks like he's never cracked a grin in his life. Five minutes of sitting cross-legged in silence and I'd break out giggling at how stupid it all was. Ryu wouldn't bat an eye though, and it's inhuman how calm and spooky-quiet he can be. That usually makes me laugh even harder.Usually that ends with a crack of Gouken's cane on my scalp. At the very least a little swat on the arm.Chicks would’ve been falling over him if he didn’t live like a saint, you know. With all that devotion to martial arts there probably wasn't any room in his head for the thought of tonguing a girl's clit and eating pussy like a dyke. Fuck, even then girls would probably moon over him. They like that the distant, silent warrior type, don't they? Maybe he’d be almost as cute as my own sexy self, if he did something about that mop of sun-browned hair of his.I was not going to be outclassed by some fucking Japanese hick.Don't lie. I know you guys notice the attractive dudes in school. It's not gay or anything, but doncha just hate how they get all the attention? Doesn't it just piss you off knowing how girls are swooning over him instead of you? How they'll be getting a taste of the goody before you can, or if you do happen to be slipping it to a girl they might be moaning and thinking about him instead? I mostly know because I've been on the receiving end of those glares for years, but this is the first time I've directed it against anyone, myself.So this afternoon, when I was drenched with sweat, panting and aching with bruises from going toe-to-toe with him, can you really expect me to not sock the little fuck? I mean, he strode over to me, wasn’t even breathing hard even after putting up a good fight, and he reached a hand out to help me stand after busting me up. Who wouldn’t punch them right there?I tell ya, the look on his face when I buried my fist into his exposed gut was fucking sweet. With how lean and taut his stomach was it was like punching a brick wall, but his eyes went wide and he arched forward with a gurgling sound. Then he crumpled to the floor like a rag. I was hoping to see him choke up and vomit as he moaned from the ground. The satisfaction of seeing him squirm like that lasted a whole two seconds though when sensei grabbed me and well… you know the rest.When we finally get to our room I collapse, moaning into the floor. It's cold, and the polished wood surface is chilly against my bare chest. My nipples feel pinched. A layer of stickiness clings to my skin: I hadn't been able to bathe after our workout, and the whipping itself had worked up a sweat.Ryu says nothing as he lays down the bedding. Yeah, we share a little pallet on the floor, which weirded me the fuck out at first. For a week I slept on the edge of my side and on top of the covers in case he tried to spoon me or something. Japanese guys can get touchy from what I hear. Gouken though just looked at me oddly and said I might as well think of it as a bonding thing when I complained. Freaks.I crawl onto the fluffy bedding, grumbling into my pillow. For a moment I tense... I swear to God, if Ryu chides me for not washing up first I'm gonna sock him even if I'd end up getting my front whipped too. Thankfully he does the smart thing and keeps quiet.He tugs the blanket up to my waistline, careful to not pull the sheets over my still-tender welts. I grunt again, not exactly in the mood to set aside my pride and thank him for anything right now. The floorboards squeak as Ryu kneels next to me.“Ugh, what do you want?” I growl.His voice is smooth as he unscrews a little container, “Those welts must hurt. I’m going to apply some ointment.”I scowl, but my face is turned away from him. Gouken frowns at the idea of tending these wounds right afterwards. He always said spending a night aching is supposed to build character. After all, what’s a lesson worth if you're just gonna soothe its impact right after? The fact that Ryu here is going against his sensei's wishes, doing the right and honorable thing against all sense… God. Does he have any idea how much I detest the fact that he's making it so hard to hate him?I toy with the idea of knocking him to the floor again, maybe breaking that stony face of his. In my fantasy I stomp his belly, kick him around like a soda can (ugh, I miss soda so much), and he's begging me to stop. Ryu's pleading on his knees.“Hold still,” he murmurs, ointment squelching beneath his hands. The smell of herbs stings my nose.I wince as his slim fingers spread the cool balm along my back, bringing me out of that happy reverie. I fume over the brotherly affection behind his touch as he massages the stuff into my bruised flesh. The stuff burns and tingles as Ryu smears it along my skin, but once the heat recedes my welts do hurt a little less. His fingers are warm and gentle. My body shivers.One of these days I'm gonna beat this country boy in a fair fight, and I’m gonna smirk down at him as he’s lying bruised and battered on the ground. Then I’ll do it again the next day. And again, and every time after that because I’m not going to lose to some little faggot who’s been living in the backwater woods of Japan all his life.We’ll see who’s so perfect then.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It's been so long.

All this time my nuts have been feeling like overripe plums: heavy and swollen with their juices, ready to burst. I'd been practically scratching at the walls like some caged squirrel with how restless I've been. Normally it wouldn't be more than a day or two between blowjobs... just a surreptitious few texts to see who could sneak out (usually in the middle of second period French) and I'd be behind the main building with my back pressed to the wall and a girl on her knees. The crisp morning air always tasted so much sweeter then, thickened with my happy sighs and the wet slurping sounds drifting up from my crotch. A cool breeze would tickle my curls and the wet skin of my cock as she withdrew, but there was always the promise of the next deep kiss, wrapping me in the warmth and wetness of her mouth.

But now it's been what... four weeks? Five? Pure torture to deprive a healthy young buck for that long. It's got me sweating and shivering and licking my lips like an addict. How fucking cruel do you have to be to do this to a guy?

Maybe right now you're wondering why I don't just crank one out. Have myself an ol' five finger party. Jeez, what is this? Middle school? Don't get me wrong I'll play with myself plenty- a fiddle under my desk, a little pocket-pool when I'm chilling with friends at Starbucks, some personal time of full-length stroking before bed and in the morning. Normal teen stuff, just like everyone else.

Thing is it's pretty rare for me to leave a string of pearls melting on my tummy. Why would I, when I know I could just save my load for the next day and plant it in a girl, the way it's meant to be done?Still, a morning blowjob only just takes the edge off. First thing I do when the final bell rings is get some actual tail, usually in the locker room. I am a member of the MMA club after all, and some girls just love their boys barefoot and sweating in a tank top. Or a little after-school action under the guise of doing our homework together. And when the weekends roll around or when summer break starts? That's when I really get to party.

Now though, I'm just leaning back, hands tucked behind my head and just basking in the feeling of those warm lips wrapped around my shaft.

My hand drifts down to run my fingers through her hair... and they meet short, sweaty bangs. I like a pixie cut on the right girl, but something tells me that this is something different. Propping myself on an elbow I look down.

That face, smooth-skinned and with those soft, rounded Asian features, might be mistaken for a girl's if I let my eyes go out of focus for a bit. But those full, hard shoulders, that back rippling with cords of muscle, can only be a dude's.

This is wrong. Or at least, it should feel wrong. I'm not a faggot... I've known I was a Kinsey-0 the moment I saw my first set of tits online. I even kicked the shit out of a guy in eighth grade for admitting he had a crush on me. So why am I not losing my shit now that I've got a fucking dude going down on me like some altar boy? I mean, I get the sense this might've happened before- but I don't remember it. And it certainly doesn't feel familiar. What'd they call it in French class? The opposite of deja vu?

Jamais vu. That's it.

Ryu looks up at me, those soft brown eyes of his glazed over. Did I dose him with something? I can't remember for shit. Pretty sure the dude's a virgin, but he hasn't skipped a beat either, and he's going down on me with the tempo and depth of a pro.

Ryu catches me staring, and his eyes turn down as his callused palms drag their way down my torso, the fingers of one hand encircling my cock. He exhales through his nose, and the breath tickles my close-cropped pubes. My toes curl and my ankles twich in the air. Mmmnh that's good.

I lie back down, and let him keep going.

At this point I'd be putting my hand on the girl's head, whispering encouragement. "Aww yeah baby... fuck, girl... you're the best... don't stop." I'd cup her cheek, running a finger along the side of her neck nice and slow, tickling her just a bit. Show her I'm into it, coax her into swallowing me nice and deep. The thought of doing it to a dude though is... I dunno. Kinda faggy.

But still, my fingers get a little fidgety, and I settle for playing with those sweaty bangs.

Turns out that's the right thing to do after all, because Ryu takes it as encouragement. I wince... teeth bared, letting out a strained whimper as he gives five or six lusty slurps. My toes curl and my thighs clench as he bobs his head rapidly, tongue swirling over my glans.

Yet just as suddenly he slows down. Those warm, hungry lips slide all the way down, encircling the base of my dick in a nice, deep kiss. My pulse begins to settle, the blood cools and mellows in my veins as I let myself melt into the warm, sedate pleasure of his mouth.

Part of me knows I'm gonna regret this after I nut, in the post-coital sobriety phase when my head begins to clear. For one, I fucking hate giving up control in the sheets, and the way I'm getting pleasured right now Ryu's got all the control. For another, I'm getting blown by a fucking dude. And if I could bloody up a queer for telling me I was his crush what do you think I'd do to a guy who blew me?

But then again I've mellowed out a lot since then. If anyone asks, I'll probably just say that Ryu assaulted me while I was sleeping or something.

For a long time Ryu pleasures me like this... bathing my maleness with slow, deep swallows- his mouth like warm, wet silk. And then he'd alternate with swift, shallow gulps... his lips tight around my shaft, puckering just as he slurps at my glans like he's savoring each drop of my pre with he tip of his tongue.

Each time he does that I get progressively closer to the edge, building the crests of pleasure after each long, lingering plateau. What drugs am I on, I wonder, to feel this high on pleasure?

I brush my fingers against his cheek, tucking aside the ends of his sweaty bangs with one hand. With the other I tease one pink nipple. My breaths feel so hot as they rattle from my throat. I let out short, sharp little moans as I twitch, mouth agape, head tilted back. My nose begins to scrunch up, my eyes shut tight. My heels scrape against the sheets and my toes spread and curl with each slurp.

My pulse is racing, and as if wanting to feel my heartbeat Ryu's hand slides up my middle, palm resting in the middle of my chest. I'd been riding on the edge this whole time, and that is just enough to bring me over.

Normally I'd make a nice butch grunt as I come, but for once I'm caught by surprise. What comes out is a pitched little squeak, and the sound of it coming from my throat would make me blush if it weren't for the fact that I'm emptying my balls into this slut's eager mouth. Wave after wave of white-hot sensation crashes through me, my skin flushing like the afternoon sun is beating against my skin in flashes. There's a hot, sticky wetness around me. It's seeping and spreading through my curls, crawling down my balls.

"F-f-fuuuuuck..." I mewl as the life spills out of me and pours down his throat.

All I remember then is Ryu crouching over me, a smile playing on his glossy lips.
 __________  I open my eyes. It's completely dark in our bedroom. My heart's beating with a heavy thrum, and I can feel the blood pulsing through my scalp. If I listen carefully though, I can hear Ryu's soft breathing. The guy's fast asleep.And down there, between my legs and trickling through my honey-blond curls, I'm wet.What the fuck? What the fuck?!My hands are trembling, and I push myself up and glance down at him in the corner of my eye. I can make out the vague shape of his body, the edge of his naked shoulder revealed by his yukata. The piece of shit faggot had molested me and just casually put on his jammies before rolling over to sleep?! Un-be-fucking-liev...And then I recognize the feeling of the snug elastic band around my hips, and I remember. I'd been naked when Ryu gave me a- and I'm wearing my shorts now. The shorts I'd just put on when I went to bed. I'm not the deep sleeper he is, and I would've definitely known if he'd tried to dress me after he- and without cleaning me off even?That's when it hits me, and I'm so fucking stunned I'm just sitting there with one lone thought echoing in my mind.Either I'd pissed myself, or I'd gotten a wet dream.I'm trying to wrap my head around it. When the hell had been the last time I'd gotten a wet dream? What am I, twelve? This has gotta be a symptom or something, like maybe I have ball cancer and I don't know it, because it's just impossi-Well... I mean, sure I hadn't emptied my nuts in probably four weeks by now. Reaching down there I slip past the tight band of my boxer-briefs, my trimmed pubes tickling my fingertips. My nose wrinkles in distaste when I feel the wet, slimy puddle of jizz.Even though turns out I hadn't just been raped by some pillow-biting Japanese hick I'm still burning with humiliation right now.Back home I had a steady diet of puss ever since middle school. Girls in my classes considered it a rite of passage to get to ride my nuts. Freshman girls, tits just beginning to come in and their unblemished little flowers still so snug and tight. So many shy, blushing virgins... all clenching and shivering as I took their innocence (fuckin' adorable, every time). Senior girls had more experience and were a bit more... developed, but they were a risk since their boyfriends would inevitably come after my ass. Good thing I'd been doing MMA for years, so I was hardly defenseless if they tried to jump me.I've taken turns with sisters in the same bed, pleasured cousins as they moaned together with my fingers and tongue and my hungry seven-incher (Okay, okay... nearly seven inches, but hey I'll get there). I'd even had a couple of their moms... cougars who'd developed an appetite for hot blond twunks and were aching to wrap their pussies around Justin Bieber's cock. Turns out they can find something even better in a hot little blond like me. That was even more of a risk, and more of a thrill, and it was kinda hard to go back to fucking their daughters at school. Once or twice I'd ended up in bed with one of my bros' sisters... even got caught by him once giving it to her in the ass. Had to take her on a couple dates to make up for that little fiasco.I was like a king with my harem.I've always been such a stud, so I'd never gone more than a week without getting some tail. In all that time I'd never built up enough backflow to end up juicing in my sleep.Fuckin' look at me now. Humiliating.I'm still feeling restless.When you're a healthy young guy like me your urges are dialed up to eleven. It's a warm, persistent heat down there, fed by your hormones and left burning through the night. You might pant softly into your pillow. Maybe your body sweats despite the chill, leaving your loins moist and muggy. It's an itch too deep to scratch, and either you fuck someone, jack it, or go crazy.The first week wasn't so bad. I was adjusting to the dojo and still in shock over the whole situation, so a good strokin' was hardly the biggest thing on my mind. Once I started getting used to life here my nuts kicked into overdrive, suddenly recognizing that I hadn't put my dick into something soft and moist for ages. But every day I was so exhausted from exercises and forms and sparring and chores that I'd just collapse into the blankets and try to fall asleep.Though the operative word here is "try."Between the hard floors and all the pent-up horny energy I've built up, I've been spending half the night rolling around in the sheets. Every night I'd gone to bed frustrated, doing my best to squelch that need to scream. Once Ryu tucks in I’d squirm and bite my lip trying to drift off. But my hips would buck gently, and I'd rub against the sheets out of pure instinct, dirty fantasies playing over and over again in my head. Quietly, of course... it's hard enough to masturbate while lying next to someone a foot away, and a guy at that.Reaching out to grab the lantern I flick it on, and throwing off the comforter I crawl out from the pallet. My legs are trembling, and the air is just a bit chilly now that summer's over. The puddle in my crotch is getting uncomfortably clammy, and I dig in through the dresser for a new pair before I make my way to the restroom.Most importantly, I grab my cellphone.Maybe I should've put on a shirt, because I'm starting to feel a little exposed as I pad quietly down the hall.The dojo is old, so there was no built-in lighting. The few electrical outlets here had been installed decades ago... not very reliable. Luckily the place has running water and a more modern restroom (not that it keeps Gouken from making me carry buckets for training purposes). I slide the door closed and put down the latch to lock it, and set the lantern on the floor.Pulling down my damp shorts I stand naked in front of the sink, wiping off the mess with a couple of tissues. The air is cold, and so is the floor against my bare feet. Tossing the jizzrags into the toilet I blow into my balled-up hand to warm up my palm. With the other I sift through my cellphone video gallery and pull up an old one.When you consider the fact that before I was dumped here I'd always been just a text and a quick car ride away from finishing in a warm hole, it's a bit demeaning that I gotta resort to jerking it to empty my nuts now. Still, I probably would've done it the first week I was here if Gouken hadn't been working me over so hard. The only reason I have enough energy to get out of bed and jack it tonight was because we'd spent the day just cleaning the dojo rather than anything more strenuous.The day that I got in trouble, dad had cracked down hard on everything I'd been doing. He'd had the house staff toss my room, confiscate my drugs, go through my computer, screen my cellphone for anything incriminating. It was humiliating enough to have dad's goons go through my porn folders. It was worse to have them go through my personal collection. A lot of my private stash hadn't been the best by any means, but I'd kept it just for the giddy thrill of knowing I owned it as a record of who I'd slept with.Only some of the collection had survived the purge, and that'd been the stuff I'd shared with my bros. A few had leaked onto the net and I'd retrieved those too, even though the videos had been compressed and the quality degraded somewhat.My heart skips a beat, and for a moment the mental image of Ryu comes back to me. Him with his mouth around my cock, eyes rolling up to meet mine in that amorous "I love how you taste" look I'd seen on so many girls. A hot prickle runs up my spine, and my insides feel like they're quivering. Whether from disgust or just the chill, it's hard to say.I shake off the memory. No, man. Just focus on the porn. I'm not gonna let some country boy queer turn me.With one hand wrapped around my cock, the other planted on the edge of the sink for support, I keep my eyes pinned to the screen. The girl's name had been Shelly or Shiela or something... redhead, with skin pale and cool as milk and a cute little nose spotted with freckles. She'd been shy about being recorded, but with the stuff I'd slipped into her drink she'd become more agreeable. I'd turned the volume down to a whisper, and I really have to focus to hear her moan as my pulsing white shaft slides into her pussy. The first-person view of the camera helps to put me in the moment... would've been even better if I had my VR headset though."Yeah..." I murmur as I jerk off. "Yeah... that's what I like to see..." __________  
Six Weeks Ago
 
I hold my breath.

I can feel the bittersweet vapor settling in my lungs. It's pungent and herbal, flavored with a hint of grapefruit and orange zest. Muscles I'd forgotten I had relax, and I feel like a lazy cat as I slump into the couch and melt into a warm, satisfied puddle. The vape pen almost slips from my fingers, but I hold the red plastic cup firmly by the rim... whiskey and coke, easy on the coke. Part of me is worried I'd drop it, but I'm blissed out and disconnected from my body... it seems like such a tiny thing to concern myself over.

In the background the hot, poppy EDM beat plays as the crowd chillaxes around me. No one really blinks at the sight of a girl sprawled out on the spot next to my lap, her head bobbing up and down with her lips tight around my member. Most of the guests would've taken this to one of the private rooms, but no one's gonna complain when it's me getting some yummy. For one, all the girls here have had my dick in 'em at one point or another. For another, all the guys here are my bros, and either they've seen the cell phone vids being passed around of me in action, or they've personally benefitted from being in my sexual orbit. After all, there's gotta be well over a dozen girls here I've drawn in personally, and even I can't put it in 'em all tonight.

Yeah, it's that kinda party.

"Hey Ken..." one of the girls purrs as she wraps her arms around me from behind. I don't remember her name, but she smells like peaches and her lips are warm as she presses them against my cheek. I tense up, toes curling into the shag carpet, a hot and juicy tingle runs from the base of my balls and up my shaft.

It's not so much this particular girl mackin' on me so much as the fact I'm getting a little dual attention in general. Makes me feel like a stud.

For a moment I hang there on the threshold, but years of experience meant I've learned enough self-control to hold back. I could easily feed this squirrel-cheeked bitch my nut and have the stamina for another three or four rounds tonight, easy- but I cum on my own terms. Show your girls you aren't easy to please, and they'll work harder to get you there. It makes 'em feel special then, when I give... no- when I bestow my seed on their tits.

It's hard to focus, blitzed as I am, but I tense up inside and push back against the urge.

I exhale then in one big gust, spewing smoke like a dragon. In the next instant I drink in a cool sip of fresh air and make a pleased little grunt as she nuzzles me. Feels good.

All of a sudden I wince.

Ow.

Fuck.

"H-hey..." I look down at Caitlyn. "No teeth."

It hadn't been a slip-up. Under my guidance Caitlyn had become a pro at giving head... she's just jealous for my attention, which in my book is kinda rude.

Apparently no-name girl takes that as some kinda hint, because she unwraps herself from me and slips away without another word. Too bad. I hadn't minded her presence at all really, and if she'd just been a little bolder she could've had her turn too. Better yet she could've played with my chest a little while I'm getting my pole polished. After all, when I'm high like this I'm a bit of a glutton for sensation.

"That was kinda mean," Jake chuckles, leaning against the armrest. "You know Karen's shy."
"That was Karen?" I blink, my voice slightly slurred. I hadn't got a look at her face or anything, and I don't remember voices as well, especially when I'm kinda smashed. She is a bit of a wallflower, if I recall.
Caitlyn tenses, cheeks flushing against my thighs with Jake here.

I stroke her hair to sooth her. "It's okay baby..." I drawl all forgiving-like, "It's cool..."

Jake here is one of the dudes who helps make these parties happen. He's more on the supply side of things... cannabis, ecstasy, poppers, G, tina, roofies... a whole menu of yummy shit to have fun with. His older brother had been dealing a few years, at first with the intention of helping Jake pay for college. Of course, when it turned out that his little bro was as much of a dumbfuck in class as he was, Jake just slid into the business as well.

Tyler's our host, though by this point he's probably in his bedroom banging the tits off of some Asian chick. Guy's got a taste for the exotic. He's got a nice house and his parents travel a lot, so it's no big deal for him to host so long as we clean up and hide the evidence.

As for me... well, I've got the connections and the company. With all the girls I draw in there's bound to be some spillover, and by this point my bros should've gotten used to having my sloppy seconds.

"How're things?" he asks, mirroring the little half-grin I've got.

"Pretty good- unf..."

It's kinda hot, just holding a casual conversation while getting a BJ. There's a certain butch power dynamic to it, like texting or playing video games while getting serviced. It's a move that says 'hey girl, you gotta give some stellar head to earn my attention.' Just remember to let out the occasional moan to show you're still invested.

"How's the citrus stuff going for you?"

"Pretty nice... think I still prefer the marshmallow flavor though," I twirl the vape pen and take a deep gulp of my drink, "I'm usually more in the mood for something creamy."

Jake smirks. He knows I like things creamy.

"How's the newbie doing?" I ask.

"Kinda hiding in his cellphone," Jake chuckles. "But he's been glancing your way now and again. Poor guy must be blue-balling hard."

Sean Matsuda. The new transfer student. Normally I wouldn't give two shits about the new guy in school, but a dark-skinned Brazilian dude with a last name like that... he's a mutt like me. And he's got an older sister to boot... the mature kind that has curves in all the right places. I've got a mental image of myself fitting into her contours, glossy with sweat and cushy under the weight of my body. I'm liking what I see.

I mean sure I could work my way towards busting her pussy directly, maybe even turn her over after to slide up into her hot cinnamon hole. But I'm not the entitled shit people usually think I am. I like to work my way up to it... one digit at a time. First night together I'm just swirling a fingertip around that pucker while I slip my unsheathed self inside her warm little flower. The first time I slide one in though... they act like I just betrayed their trust: all huffy and squeaking for me to stop. Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. Depends on how receptive I think the girl really is...

Emotionally speaking. Not just in terms of how loose she is back there.

It's pretty much inevitable that once I've got a girl I'm regularly making hot slapping sounds with, I wanna change up the tempo. Somtimes it's just a matter of whispering in her ear: telling her how she's such a pretty kitty and you know what my favorite girl's gotta do? Other times, just as she starts to come, I pull out and push right in again just two inches next door... my cock all nice and pre-lubed with her own juices, her too out of it to notice the wetness pressing against her other hole. If I just want to make things easy and get a quick turn at it, some booze and pills help her get all nice and deeply relaxed.

That shock you? Heh, get used to it. It's pretty much an open secret that I'm obsessed with anal, and I'm a fucking poet about it when I've got the cadbury road on my mind. Besides, girls should know by now what they're getting into the moment they go after my cock. Healthy young buck like me has an appetite, and I deserve to savor a full three-course meal.

Suffice it to say... yeah, it's not just my sense of hospitality that led me to invite the new kid. I'm definitely planning to get an in-road to fuck his hot sister in her o-ring. Girl's got tits and ass for days. Besides, it's almost kinda cute the way Sean acts around me... like a nervous puppy eager for approval.

Not that I'm looking down on him or anything. As one of the lead members of the MMA club I'm always on the lookout for new talent, and he's got some sweet Brazilian Jiu Jitsu / Capoeira moves for a beginner. The fact that he's kinda attached himself to me means he's already got a good feel for the pecking order too.

For a moment our eyes meet, and he looks away awkwardly like he hasn't been thirsting over the sight of me getting pleasured, all wondering if he's ever gonna get his turn with a girl here. Nothing wrong with that... I don't mind a bro mirin' me in action so long as he's not gonna be a queer about it.

"Hey, I think that's enough for now," I murmur sweetly down to Caitlyn. It takes a little tap on her head before she gets off, all reluctant and pouty-like. She wants to be one of the special girls tonight who gets to leave with my mark inside her.

"Hey have you... have you seen Evie?" My voice is slurred when I speak, and I have to swallow. A warm, clean saliva is filling my mouth. My glands really have kicked into high gear.

Jake grins at the mention of Evie. He knows I've been working her for a while now, nudging her closer and closer to her limits. All she needs now is a couple drinks, and maybe a dab of the good stuff I've got in my pocket, and she'll be doing all sorts of things she'd never thought she would.

"You're a bit of a sex addict, huh?" Jake laugh.

He's been making this same joke since 8th grade and he still thinks it's fucking funny. Though okay, I'll admit I let out a snicker. Everything's pretty funny when you're high.

Without another word Jake slips off to go find her while I approach the newbie.

Sean's wearing a yellow sleeveless hoodie over a black tank top, with yellow shorts. A beaded bracelet wraps around one wrist, and he's got a black stud earring in each ear. With the nice carpet here in Tyler's house he's kicked off his sneakers at the front door like everyone else. Turns out he prefers ankle-high socks.

"Heeey, newbie," I grin, twirling my vape pen in one hand, "You partake?"

He shakes his head. Okay maybe that was coming on a bit strong.

"It's... Sean, right?" I ask, hesitating just a bit and acting like I don't quite know his name.

"Yeah. Ken, right?"

I'm standing pretty close to him. Not quite sure how much contact he's used to, but he isn't pulling away. Though then again, everyone I approach, guy or girl, never does. I've never worried about coming off like a creep. Never even thought what it must feel like. All I know is that when I get close they get vulnerable. Like they can smell the Alpha on me and just roll over.

And that's how things should be.

"You enjoying the party?"

His mouth twitches in a nervous smile, the kind you see on every guy when they're suddenly getting attention from the most popular dude in school. "Yeah, it's great."

"You should get a drink, man. Mingle a little."

"Nah, I... don't really know anyone here."

"That's the whole point!" I laugh, throwing an arm around his shoulder. He stiffens for a moment before I feel him settle in and relax. I pull him closer just enough and lower my voice, "Come on. I've seen you watching."

He flinches. "W-wait, man. It's not like that!"

"Hey don't worry," I chuckle. "I know you're not a fag."

"I'm not!"

"What'd I just say?" I smirk. "That's good, man. I'm just sayin' it's totally natural. You watch porn, you're not focusing on the dude, right?"

"R-right..." he stutters.

"You experienced?"

His throat bobs in a thick swallow. "C-course I am..."

Of course he's not.

"So whacha into?" I smirk, leaning in almost close enough that I get a whiff of his skin. Clean and faintly musky... a total guy-smell, but virgin that he is he practically still smells of his mother's milk. Not anything close to the brand of soap I use though.

"I... uh..."

"Come on, man. We're buddies now, right?"

I can feel the flush of heat radiating off his cheeks. "I, uh... w-well... I'm really into oral."

I have to stifle a laugh at that. That is like, the most virgin thing to say.

With the body contact we're making now I can tell the guy works out pretty thoroughly, and it isn't from weight training. He doesn't just have bulk... there's something about his tone, the way his muscles move when he shifts his weight that show he's used to dynamic stuff. A good sense of balance, solid reflexes... from martial arts, obviously. Might even be a dancer.

My eyes flick down to his shorts, just for a moment. Part Asian, part Afro-Brazilian. I wonder what he's packing under there. Like, which side wins out in the size department?

Just then I see Evie circle around. Redhead, which I'm totally into at the moment, and a cute tight blouse with thin straps. Perky little tits and a small frame for that nice wrap-around effect. Also the right amount of plumpness that you get some bouncing going on when I ride her. You know the type.

And then, just on the edge of my vision, I notice Sean adjusting his shorts.

"Just so you know..." I grin, "If you wanna chill together, I get first dibs. After that, I share."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Okay, I'm gonna need you to keep a secret.Like, a legit one. This isn't some ploy to get you to cozy up to me, it's not one of those situations where I pretend like I'm trusting you with something important so you'll think you're special because "gosh the cool kid in class shared his secrets with me!"No, I'm saying this now because I'm kinda antsy and it's driving me nuts.See, I smuggled in some goodies on my way to Japan.The edibles had been easy enough. Gummy candies all look alike, and I had a loose sack of gummi bears I'd tossed them in with so they're well-camoflauged. Each one has 10 milligrams of sativa-derived THC... normally I'd take two as a standard dose if I wanna fly high and it makes me horny as shit, but after playing it straight edge in the dojo for a month my tolerance must've gone way down. Problem is they take like an hour to kick in fully, and sometimes I just don't have the patience to wait that long before I can get my nuts licked.That's where the vape pen comes in. Just a couple puffs to front-load, with an onset time of about ten minutes. I've got a cartridge of coconut cream cannabis oil and a whole bottle of mashmallow fluff flavor to refill it. These I'd double-bagged in ziplock, and hidden them in my shampoo bottle.Finally, I've got a bottle of triple-T. There's some long scientific name for the actual chemical involved, and it's new enough that most people don't know how to use it.There's a couple ways... most straightforward is to huff... stuff's got an aroma like cleaning fluid mixed with burnt rose petals. Taken that way it gives you a hot flush of sensation... this rich, almost buttery tingle that spreads through your scalp and all the way down to the flesh between your toes. I've known users who'd fall into the sheets and moan and writhe for a good ten minutes before it wears off.It's absorbed through the skin too, though it'll be a bit before it takes effect. Just a dab on your neck will give you a slower, deeper high that lets you stay in control a bit more, and that'll last for a good half hour. Though if you want the best of both worlds, just brush a little onto your upper lip... every nerve is lit on fire in moments. You can feel every hair on your scalp tingling as the drunken flush mists over your thoughts. I've seen girls trip for a good hour that way... nice and docile, but still together enough that they can feel everything that happens.This I'd snuck in by pouring out a bottle of eye drops, and refilling it with 3T instead.Look, I'm not an addict or anything. You wouldn't say you're "addicted" to pizza just because you have a serious craving for a slice now and again (plus it's just fucking weed and some next-gen poppers, jeez). But holy shiiiiit the cravings have been hitting hard these past few weeks I've been edging. I haven't been able to lose myself in a sweet delicious haze in too fucking long.On top of that, I've been getting even more crazy horny than before. Yeah, I know... I can hardly believe it either. It isn't just the fact that I haven't had a blow or a piece of ass in all this time. Or the fact that I can barely get the opportunity to crank one out because I'm cloistered in a dojo with a pair of Japanese hicks.It's the boredom. The lack of anything to do except train. You can't get a signal out here, so checking my Twitter feed is a bust. I only get a chance to get online for ten minutes when we go down to the village to get supplies, and that's only to email my tutor so I can turn in the academic assignments I've been half-assing. Got a whole ream of digital textbooks and worksheets I've gotta do on a strict schedule.So I've been getting restless. Not my fault, man. I'm a city kid... totally not built for living in the country. And when I get restless I want to act out.The first two weeks here there'd been the standard Japanese politeness and deference to guests. I raised hell like always: talked back, tried to get away from the both of them whenever we went down to the village to try to seek out some kind of fun. By the tenth time or so where I chose to get smart-mouthed with Gouken I was no longer a guest, but a student, and vulnerable to all the punishments that came with the title. Man, what a rough transition that was.Fuck Ryu if he looked crestfallen whenever I was beaten or starved. He doesn’t have the right to be disappointed in me.I'd tried running away. Like, for realsies. Once in the middle of the night I'd changed into one of the two sets of street clothes I'd been allowed to bring in with me. For a solid week I'd been trying to memorize all the squeaky floorboards and getting attuned to Gouken's sleep schedule. With my sneakers in one hand and a backpack with my electronics, I'd tiptoed down the hall and got all the way to the front door. Slowly, carefully, I'd slid it open... my breaths an inaudible whisper, each inch bought over a good long minute.But once the space was big enough for me to squeeze through and take my first step out to freedom... there, in the corner of my eye, I saw him. This huge, dark silhouette, like massive bear with a graying beard. Gouken stared at me with eyes that pierced like daggers, and I stared back wide-eyed like a guilty dog. I had no choice but to turn around and slink back into the bedroom I shared with Ryu. Clearly I wouldn't be thinking of doing that again.Naw, I'm shitting you. You probably know me better than that by now.Bolting out the door, my bare feet slapping against the paved stone pathway, I made it just to the outer gate when I felt Gouken's shadow fall over me. In the next instant he was crushing the breath out of my body like a goddamn beast. I was half-conscious when he carried me back into the dojo on his shoulder, my backpack in his other hand.That night I didn't give a flying fuck about dignity. I was fucking done with this shit and I let out every ounce of rage I had kept bottled up in all this time: screaming and yowling like an alley cat as the bamboo cane cracked against my naked ass. Not only was Ryu holding down my ankles this time, Gouken pinned both of my wrists behind my back with one hand and had a knee pressed between my shoulder blades. He drove the point home on my asscheeks, the backs of my thighs, and my calves. A couple of times as he was beating my thighs the cane would just barely lick my nuts, hard enough for the impact to ring through my plump little churchbells and leave me retching from the sudden burst of agony. He didn't even count this time, just kept wailing on me as I kicked and screamed and painted the floorboards with my tears and saliva, nearly pissing myself, until I started begging for him to stop. And even then he'd leveled a dozen fresh strokes before he was satisfied I wouldn't be pulling this shit again.For a couple days after I'd just been assigned basic chores while Ryu kept on training. Granted, it's not like I wanted to do forms and practice katas or anything. But being left with menial shit like cleaning, doing laundry, and peeling vegetables was major weaksauce. Doubly so when I had to do it either on my knees or in a squat because the welts still burned as if I'd been branded on the ass like a cow.Well, at least the light chores that night meant I had the energy to sneak into the bathroom and crank one out again. This time I pulled up an old recording of a girl I'd brought in, and after I'd dumped a couple loads in her holes I let my bros take their turns. I needed something a bit more degrading for a good ol' hate-fap over how unfair it all was.I didn't deserve any of this bullshit. ~~~~~ With one arm wrapped around Evie, I guide her up the stairs into the master bedroom, with Sean following just a couple steps behind. I'm blissed out enough that I'm getting a bit of that drug-induced synesthesia, because the music downstairs feels like it's got a texture to it in my mind, rippling and waving as the bass rolls through my body. My girl smells like sweet purity... she's a good self-proclaimed Christian who's saving her big V for marriage, which is a real stretch because I've already popped that pearl. Still, she clings to the idea because I didn't get to finish inside.
The first time I had her she'd been trembling and oh-so-tight from how she'd clenched, which is totally my thing. But past the first couple thrusts she realized what was happening, and then got that "oh no what would daddy think?" moment where she kinda freaked out realizing that she was getting her precious innocence spoiled. I slowed down, tried to help her push past that hesiation for her own good. Even promised to pull out and spill it on her thigh like that one dude in the Bible. Granted, I was gonna do that anyways since I wasn't using protection, but y'know. Communication is important. For a hot minute she'd tried to get settled as I continued to fuck her, but eventually she started pressing her hands against my chest and whimpering, and was squirming a bit too much for me to enjoy.

So whether it was because I never juiced in her cunt or because she broke it off while we were in the middle of it, Evie at least considered herself still virgin-ish. Most people would move on to a girl with less drama at this point, and I certainly did. But Evie always felt like unfinished business, and I didn't wanna leave any of that hanging. I might be a slacker in a lotta things, but I'm a still completionist by nature... just check the achievements list in my Steam account.

Now it didn't take much coaxing to draw her back in. For one, she knew it'd been her fault for flaking out like that. For another, I was still the class heartthrob, which meant that she didn't wanna get on my bad side because everyone wanted to please the hot guy. Plus, all of her friends had gotten dick from me by now, and having never gotten to hear me grunt into her ear as I fill her with my baby-makin' juices is a total FOMO situation hanging over her head.

So while pussy was a hard no, blowjobs didn't count in her version of Good Christian Values. And after some coaxing (and maybe just a little bit of pouting and being all cute on my part) she came around to compromise on anal.

Tonight we're finally gonna seal the deal.

Evie hadn't noticed Sean following behind us, and she tenses when he slips in and I nudge the door closed with my foot. I can see it in her eyes, the way she looks up to me all nervous thinking we're gonna rape her.

"Shhh, just relax..." I whisper, holding Evie close and kissing her cheek. "You know Sean. New guy in school... I talked to him. He's a pretty chill dude."

"H-hi..." she gulps.

"So I was thinkin' we could give him a proper welcome," I purr, holding her close as I sway back and forth like we're dancing, "Don't worry, I'll do you right and he'll just watch for now. I was just thinking that maybe afterward you can treat him to a nice blow..."

Evie swallows, and she looks up at me with those pretty green eyes.

"Come on..." I purr, "Do the poor guy a favor... lookit him all hungry for attention. Like a little puppy..."

Sean flushes and turns away, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. With his chocolatey complexion you can't see him blush, but he's still clearly flustered.

I put my vape pen to my lips and press the button down with a click, drawing a nice, deep drag and filling my lungs with that bittersweet citrus smoke. Pressing my lips to hers, I fill her with my breath.

I hold out the pen behind her as she drinks it in, and Sean blinks and takes it as I give him a knowing wink. By the way he licks his lips he's clearly never vaped before, but he follows my example and takes in a good huff. His eyes bulge, and he doubles over a bit struggling to not cough like a little bitch. I smirk.

We seal this bond between the three of us with a deep, smoky kiss... me and Evie with our lips locked tight, Sean indirectly. For a while we stand there, swaying to the muffled beat of music coming through the floor, passing the pen back and forth until Evie and Sean are just as red-eyed and spacin' it as I am.

But I'm a pro at this, and I guide the other two like a conductor. Sean's leaning against the wall as the cannabis settles into his system, and his eyes swim as he grips the dresser next to him. This is some amazing shit Jake got for me, and Sean must be getting that sense that gravity is dragging him down now and he's trying not to plop onto his ass like a moron.

I take my bottle of 3T out of my pocket and give it a shake. It's warm from being in my pocket, so when I unscrew it and take my first huff a bunch had already evaporated. I take an incredibly deep hit from that, and Evie nearly coughs when she takes hers.

Shit. That's a waste.

Coaxing her onto her belly, I crawl on top of her as the world blooms into a hot fog of pleasure. Running a finger along the lip of the glass bottle before capping it with a trembling hand, I wrap one arm around Evie. With my other hand I slip my finger down between her thighs. She tenses just a little, whimpering and protesting, reminding me that I'd promised I'd leave her chastity untouched.

"Shh... it's okay..." I slur, "Just the fingertip..."

I slip it past her warm, soft lips down there... just deep enough that I can smudge the residue of the drug inside her.

Sean's eyes widen as he plays the voyeur. His jaw is slack and his head's rolled off to the side like every part of his body had become too heavy for him to hold himself up.

It's not long before I kick my shorts off of my bare ankles, and my body's fitting into all of Evie's nice, soft curves. The sting of the 3T, like the scent of industrial grade cleaner, gradually gives way and I can smell how sweet her hair is. She's lying so still, breathing so softly, and that dab I'd given her in her cunt is trickling into her bloodstream, quieting her protests.

With a great effort I push myself back up. It'd be nice to just hot-dog it between her cheeks, and I'd probably just nut it over her back if I were more undisciplined. But no, I know what'll feel amazing for the both of us.

She doesn't make a sound when I press my thumb into the small of her back with one hand, and uncap the bottle of lube with the other. It's only when I start dripping a nice trickle of it down her tailbone that she murmurs in a soft, dreamy voice.

"...tection..."

"Mmm hmm..." I agree to nothing in particular.

"...wearing a condom...?"

If I weren't so wasted right now I'd be kinda offended. Might as well as me to put a leash on my nuts. And pretty hypocritical of a religious gal to try avoid taking it raw the way God intended. Granted I've been known to make a show of wearing a condom for some girls who are super insistent, but once I've got her pinned beneath me that changes right quick.

I'm a real ninja about it too, and I've never been caught at it. Either I break the tip off and slide it down my length like a rolled-up sleeve, or I just straight up slip it off without them knowing. Either way I get to feel every bare inch of her inner heat around me.

This time though, I don't even bother. Fuck, I don't think I'm even sober enough to tear the package open at this point.

I'll admit, I'm a bit of an exhibitionist. Normally I'd have a bro recording the moment with my cellphone so I can show off later, but Sean is a bit out of it as I make the bedsprings squeak. He's gawking at us- at me- with his mouth half-open, throat bobbing in an occasional swallow. Dark fingers hold his crotch, trying to look casual about running his thumb back and forth over the bulge tenting his shorts like he isn't getting off on the sight of the action. Makes me feel like a fucking porn star, and it almost makes me wanna pull out and nut on her back just to get a rise out of our third wheel here.

"F-fuck..." he pants in a soft whisper, hand slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. Sean's fondling himself now, and as nice as Evie's ass is with her sphincter squeezing down on me in little spasms, she isn't giving me half as much appreciation as the newbie here is. His eyes wander up from her smooth, swanlike back, up to my abs and pecs glistening with sweat, rolling and tightening with each buck. My cowrie shell necklace bounces against my collarbone, rattling in a rhythm that matches the motion of my hips.

Another sound matches the slap of my thighs against her cheeks... this crooning, wolfish growl, and it takes me a moment before I recognize I'm the one making that noise as I fuck the tight hole under me. The clash of drugs in my system has obliterated any rational thought, and I fuck my girl like an absolute beast: fingers digging into plump white flesh, mouth biting and suckling at her shoulder, gnawing on her fire-red hair. Normally I'd give her a reacharound and stir her clit at this point, but I'm too wasted to do anything but keep on pounding. Evie's reached down between her legs though, and her sharp cries smooth out into long, pitched squeals of intertwined pleasure and pain.

Yeah, I'm a fuckin' poet when I'm horny.

The mattress rocks and bounces violently beneath us. Tyler had put a sheet down on his parents' bed knowing what was gonna happen, and good thing too because I'm gonna be leaving a whole bunch of snail trails over it when I'm done.

"S-stop..." she croaks all of a sudden.

I don't. The bedsprings keep on squeaking. My growls filll the air. Off to the side, Sean is masturbating through his shorts. I'm surprised he doesn't have a big damp spot going already.

"K-ken..." she whimpers, propping herself up and nudging me with her elbows.

"Jush relaxsh..." I huff. My head's swimming, and it's a struggle to put the words together in the right order. "It'sh gonna be foiiine..."

But her squirming continues, and finally with a firm shove I hadn't been expecting she pushes me off. Too unsteady to do anything, I stumble back as my cock pulls out with a wet sucking sound. Swaying, thoughts smothered by a fog of sweet ecstasy, I almost fall over.

For a good long moment that seems to stretch way longer than it should've, I stare at Evie in confusion. The bedroom is tilting and swaying around me, and the air's suddenly cold now that the muggy, warm blanket of pleasure's been stripped from me. I have a hard time making sense of what's happening. Wasn't she enjoying it? She'd been pleasuring herself this whole time I'd been smashing her tight little ring.

"Hey..." I slur, plopping down onto the bed and barely holding myself up with one hand. "I wasn't... finished..."

"I'm... I'm sorry," Evie gulps, putting a hand to her mouth. "I'm not... feeling too..."

Tugging her skirt down, her panties still around her knees, Evie totters out to the door. She closes it behind her, and I just sit there dumbfounded for a moment. It's quiet though, which is good, because with the dose I'd given her I would've expected to hear some hard thumps of her tumbling down the stairs.

The air had grown thick in here, but with my cock unsheathed and glossy with lube it feels kinda chilly. Fuck I'm gonna be blueballing hard if I don't finish soon.

If I weren't so high right now I'd probably be pretty pissed off. Pulse pounding, every nerve in my body burning with hot pleasure, I'd been just a few pumps from the edge. Like, what am I supposed to do in this situation? Just grab the nearest girl and see if she'd let me slip it in her black cherry? All I'd give her is a minute of thrusting to carry me that last bit over into pure bliss.

Naw. I wouldn't just use a girl like that. I'm a gentleman.

And it's not like I'm the only one who's got a grievance here.

Sean's clutching his groin now, legs stiff like he's trying to desperately hold in a piss. The cloth is bunched-up tight in his grip, and I can see the hard outline of his member poking through. His eyes are downcast though, and he's staring at the floor in dismay as if unsure what to do. The look on his face is fucking heartbreaking.

It's probably the drugs tallking, but I feel like in this moment the two of us are communing on this deep, spiritual level. Despite the vast gulf in sexual experience between the two of us, we share the same blend of horniness and disappointment, this multicolored sense of frustration over what'd just happened.

And it's in this moment that, in my weed-addled mind, I get what seems like a fucking amazing idea.

Rubbing a slimy hand off on the towel under me, I grip my shorts with my toes and drag them closer to me. Leaning down, I fumble for my cellphone with my now sorta-clean hand and scroll through some videos.

"Hey."

It takes Sean a moment to recognize I'm talking to him.

"Come'ere..."

Sean looks up and hesitates for a moment until, swaying, he pushes himself and totters over like a good boy.

"You like... ever jack off before?" I say as I select a particularly juicy vid. "With a bro, I mean."

Sean blinks as he plops down next to me on the bed.

"I said you ever jack off with a bro before?" I ask again, "Like, not in the queer way, obvi."

He shakes his head.

"Cool," I turn on the TV. Tyler's parents have got a real fucking nice high-def one right here, but I'm having trouble navigating the controls so it takes a bit of fumbling to sync my phone up to it. "Big rule is we don't touch. No faggy shit."

Granted, it's an unspoken rule so it doesn't need to be mentioned, but given that we're both blitzed and that he's a total peachboy who doesn't know me yet, I just gotta make that crystal fucking clear.

This isn't some locker room situation where rubbing shoulders with a bunch of other naked dudes is just par the course. But there's still a certain intimacy to it, just two dudes chillin' and jerkin' it off. It's the first time I've ever done this with a party going on downstairs, but for Sean this is just one of a shitton of firsts for him and he's still trying to figure out what he should be doing.

Shaking up the bottle of triple-T, I take a deep huff, fillling my lungs with a dose of sweet poison. Capping it quickly, I tap the play button on my phone right before it kicks in, and the video begins playing... a cute Latina girl getting double stuffed by a pair of white dudes like a reverse Oreo.

My vision goes hazy as the hit builds on the last... I'm tingling from my scalp and down my spine, and the hot, electrifying pleasure crackles down to my spreading toes in waves. I can feel my pulse in my cheeks, the warm blood throbbing through my temples. On the outside I know I just look like some wasted red-eyed teenager at the moment, but inside I can feel my mind expanding into a higher realm of bliss.

I'm still holding my breath when I pass the bottle over to Sean and hear him take a huff. My fingers curl around my member, and as I begin stroking it feels like this moment is gonna last forever.

I'm in heaven.

I swear, when you're kissing the sky and satiating your cock nothing else matters. It's like a force of nature... the way the carnal ecstasy ebbs and flows. It feels like it's ceaseless. Inevitable like the tide, washing away every trace of conscious thought and scouring your mind clean. Right now I couldn't even remember my own name. I couldn't tell you where I am or what I'm doing. Even the fact that I've resorted to finishing with jacking myself off, something I'd normally think of as wasteful, seems inconsequential now that this moment seems to be stretching into eternity. There's nothing left but the pleasure blooming through my loins and leaving a hot slickness over my fingers.

It.

Lasts.

Forever.

And.

It.

Is.

Beautiful.

And then I exhale.

The chemical scent tickles my nose as I breathe out the last of it, and the scent is strangely nostalgic for some reason. When my chest heaves the air filling my lungs is so cool and sweet, and tears crawl down my cheeks. How long I'd been holding it in I don't know, but fresh oxygen tastes so fucking delicious, like it's the first breath I'd ever taken. I moan then... and it's a soft, pitched sound, like the the cry of a newborn baby.

Beside me, Sean mutters something I can't make out.

"...hmm?"

"...you really like anal, huh?" On the screen, there's a long shot playing of a close-up view of the girl taking it up the ass.

The fingers encircling by dick have paused at the base, and for a moment I'm kinda annoyed that Sean had to go and interrupt me like that with a conversation. It takes a second before my drug-addled mind realizes oooh wait I can do two things at once, and I get back to stroking the staff as I chat.

"Yeah... anal's the fucking best," I giggle, "Like... like... even jus sayin' th' word... jus... roooolls off the tongue. Aaaaanal. Love it."

Glancing down I notice that Sean's still just rubbing himself through his shorts. Hasn't even pulled out his piece yet. That annoys me a little, like when they wear socks in porn. Just fuckin' commit to it.

The girl on the big screen is taking it bareback from both ends, and mewling like a kitten.

"I fuckin' hate wearing a condom..." I sigh as I turn back to the screen. I'd leaned in just a hair closer to talk to Sean, and my head is kinda-sorta resting on his shoulder right now. It's probably a violation of the no-touchy rule, but I'm feeling so warm and fuzzy right now I don't care. "Like... it's not just because it doesn't feel as good. It's kinda... demeaning, y'know? Like she's not ready for the real thing if she's scared of taking it raw."

"Raw..." Sean murmurs in a husky little echo.

"So like... giving it to a girl in the black cherry is like, you don't have to stress about any accidents. Like, no worries about puttin' a baby in her. You get to relax and enjoy her snug insides."

I'm rambling, I know, but it feels like I'm preaching the fucking word of God right now it's just soooo true.

"Plus like... like... y'know?" the words are spilling from my lips all clumsy, "It's the last... great... conquest. When she gives it up to you. It shows you that she's... like... yours. Total... total power move. Y'know?"

Sean's only response is a hard swallow. Is he into this? The long moment stretching in front of the two of us, the poetry spilling from my lips.

"Though like, the double power move? It's when she starts dating someone else. Or maybe she's got a boyfriend already. See, I don't mind sharing. But... but like... thing is, there's always gonna be that lil' secret between us. When a girl gives up her ass to you, you know she's probably never gonna give it to anyone else afterward. Not after I've done it. And I get to know that I've slid in her tight little tunnel and planted my load, in a place where no one else is gonna ever go."

Sean's just staring at the screen like he isn't listening. Either he's really absorbed in the porn, or he's feeling awkward and trying to ignore me being all cozy. Fucking faggot. And here I'd been all nice letting him chill with me, share my drugs, even tried to hook him up with some head.

You know what? I've made up my mind. When I finally get to stick it in his sister, I want him to watch.

The girl on the screen is squealing pretty loud. Now that I think about it, if anyone passed by outside they'd probably think I was the one doing the action here. My hand seems to be moving on its own over my cock, keeping the pleasure humming at a steady, high pitch. I pant... slow, deep, and each breath feels like it's coming in and out in silky ribbons through my throat.

Haha holy shit I'm high.

Thing is there's just one little edge to the smooth pleasure that snags at my attention.

"Hey..." I nudge Sean's thigh. He doesn't flinch or anything. It's his first time on weed, and his first time on 3T, so it's hitting him pretty hard. I need to lean in a little closer, so my breath is almost tickling his ear. "Hey... dude... take off your shorts."

"Wuh?" he swallows. This whole time he's just been rubbing himself through the cloth. Like I said, it bugs me when people don't fucking commit to it.

"I said shorts off."

Okay in all fairness, he's probably having trouble figuring out how his hands work, and buttons and zippers and shit basically need a walkthrough to navigate once you're this wasted. But I don't wanna be the only one jacking off here, like you don't wanna be the only one smoking at a party. And honestly... part of me wants to see what he's packing. Not in the queer way of course. Just curious. I mean come on who hasn't compared sizes with their buddies in the restroom?

Just as he starts to understand and figure things out, dipping his fingers below his waistband, I notice it's gotten all weird and spooky-quiet. Like, not silent or anything. There's still the wet slapping sound of my cock, the moans and grunts from the porn. But downstairs, where there should be dance music and chatter going on...

Wait. How long has it been since the party stopped?

Just then I hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, and the door's thrown open. My brain is still buffering as it tries to process what's happening, and in the lag between me jerkin' it and my sense of shock kicking in a pair of figures barge through the door.

The first thing that clicks is that I'm lying side by side with a dude... leaning pretty close to him actually, and I don't want my rep as a ladies' man being tainted by someone getting the wrong impression of us being together like this. But all of a sudden the hands seize my arms and pull me from the sheets. My legs drag under me as they try to pull me to my feet.

"Can you get dressed?" they ask.

"What... what's happening? Who...?"

"Can you get dressed?" they ask again.

I glance down at my shorts. The tank top I'd discarded. I try to reach for the towel to cover myself but they take hold of me and refuse to let me budge from my spot. Sean had tumbled off of the bed and he's sprawled behind it, peeking over with distant eyes.

"We're gonna need a medic in here!" one of them says. And that's when I recognize the policeman's blues, the badge pinned to his chest. And the realization hits me like a freight train.

Oh fuck.
 ~~~~~ Going straight-edge now wouldn't be nearly so bad if I had some other shit to do. I'm getting twitchy with the need for internets and social media. I swear... you try putting your phone down and losing access to wifi for a week and tell me you don't feel like scratching at the walls.So like, I just really really needed an escape from this. Just a couple tokes of cannabis vapor to take the edge off. If I'd played my cards right I could've gone out for a walk in the woods saying I needed some time alone, but after that stunt where I tried to run away Gouken was watching me like a hawk, and I barely got any alone time.Though if there's a bright spot (if you can call it that) in this situation, it's that Gouken isn't the one directly keeping an eye on me.Naw, that job was given to Ryu.It's not like I'm unacquainted with martial arts. I used to do karate as a kid, and for the past few years I've been honing that with some MMA. I'm the fucking captain of the club back in my school, the youngest to take the reins since I made the previous one suck canvas. And somehow I'm outclassed by some country boy.In a sparring match I can get in a few good blows, but I've never gotten close to eke out a win. I mean I guess it helps that he's admittedly more serious and focused about this sorta thing, and it's easy to see why.Naive little hick doesn't notice girls. Doesn't even talk about them, or boast about what he wanted to see from ‘em. He just didn’t know much of anything outside of his cloistered little life like some teenage monk. More than once he’s stared at me with a confused stare when I made a sassy off-the-cuff remark or asked about some tidbit or another about modern pop culture in America.And yet, nothing gets past him. Ryu keeps me on as short a leash as Gouken would've, and the last time my mouth started writing checks my ass couldn't cash, I ended up pinned facedown in the dirt with my arm locked in his grip, and his knee pressing into the small of my back.So when Gouken wasn't around, Ryu was my handler. He stuck to my side when we did our daily runs through the woods, and when we went down the village to pick up supplies I was never out of his sight. Huge pisser, that, because some of the village girls are pretty cute and if it weren't for his omnipresence I'm sure I could sweet-talk them into going behind a shed for a few hot minutes of wet slapping sounds.He was like an annoying, obedient brother. One who stuck to the rules. We slept together, trained together, did all our chores together.Oh and before I forget... we bathed together too.Do you have any idea how disturbing it is the first time you see a big, buff martial arts master scrubbing down his adopted son in the bathroom? It’s as if they hadn’t grown out of the habit of washing each other’s backs since the boy was seven, and seeing as how Ryu’s been firming up into such a fine young man recently, well… even if Gouken Sensei didn’t sample the goods, he must’ve thought about it at least once or twice with how touchy they were.Fucking perv.“Hey Ken, lemme scrub your back,” Ryu says, brushing aside my ponytail. I nod, turning on the stool a bit and sighing as I bury the urge to crack his skull. I can't believe I'm sober for this. Just a little toke, man... I need it.By now Gouken had started bathing alone. Maybe he picked up on my creeped-out vibe, or maybe he was leaving us to bond in the springs.Not gonna lie, now and again I'd take a few glances at Ryu whenever he turned around, and it's probably the unquenched horniness that really got me to notice he's kinda pretty in his own way. Those slightly androgynous Asian features help. Hard, lean, and sculpted like a guy should be when he’s at his best, with a youngish sorta face. We look alike in a lot of ways, but my face is a touch sharper, my muscles a little bigger. I could see the two of us in a boy band, though I'd deffo be the hot one in the group, while he'd be more the boy-next-door type. And I definitely have better hair.I wince as he presses the washcloth against my back. It's been four days since my last beating, and it still felt a bit bruised back there. Ryu's gentle though. Annoyingly so. I hate being coddled or underestimated, but I can tell that his sense of decency was just about the only thing that kept him from giving up on me like all my other handlers did.“After dinner, you wash the dishes and set the bedding out. Be sure to wipe your feet and clean the floorboards before you lay the sheets down.” I can feel him smirking, just barely, but I merely clench my teeth and mentally list the little chores he has for me.“Yes, sempai.” I roll my eyes. Fact is though, I’d be doing whatever Ryu said.We'd made a game of it really, and it’d definitely been another way to motivate me to train harder. Whenever we sparred the loser would have to do whatever the winner wanted that night. Scrub the floors, wash the dishes, do the laundry, whatever. You know, kinda like a personal servant.You can probably see where I’m going with this.Yeah smirk all you want, but if you were in my situation you'd start thinking the same. The dojo is practically a prison to me, and if I'm gonna be kept here against my will I'm gonna play by prison rules, bitch. And if I couldn't get a girl to relieve myself, there's only one other option.Nothing gay... just like, y'know. A little oral. If Evie could say it doesn't count, so could I. And I'm not the one who's gonna be the queer with a dick in his mouth.Plus like... you hear about this sort of thing happening all the time among dudes. Well, virgins at least. They don't have ready access to girls, so trading a little favor here and there, pretending the mouth on you is from the fairer sex... it's totally a thing. Just one I'd never had to resort to before.Of course, Ryu wasn’t going to go fag for me willingly. That much was a fact. But I've always been able to coax people into doing what I wanted, though in the past it'd always been from a position of power.Here we come back to the original problem: he made it just about impossible since, like I said, he always kicked my ass whenever we sparred. Even if I got better at blocking one more punch or dodging one more kick as the days went by, Ryu was always a touch faster and more experienced. I always ended up on my back or on my belly, panting, choking down the dust of the little clearing where we often did our training. Then I was left nursing my bruises and running the chores Ryu gave me.Yet one night as I lay in the darkness all hot and bothered, something came to me that would give me an edge. I smiled. It was just a couple of days later that I got the opportunity to put my plan into action.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Grounded. Like some fucking kid.

I'm lying in the dark, wearing nothing but a loose pair of shorts. My room had been completely gutted... Dad had my TV taken away, my gaming rig, my laptop, even my cellphone. For a while I blared music as loud as I could on a janky old stereo that'd somehow found its way into my closet as a big "fuck you" to him, but soon enough that'd been taken too.

It'd all been an overreaction, really. A misunderstanding. But it's not like anyone ever listens to me when I try to explain shit.

The cops had been total dicks. I'd barely been able to pull on my shorts and my tank top when they cuffed me and dragged me outta Tyler's house. I hadn't even been able to put my shoes on... not like I could've found them among the dozens of pairs from all the guests that'd kicked them off at the front door. High as I was I was fucking terrified... the mix of weed and 3T and alcohol had my mind trapped in a confused, paranoid haze, and as I sat in the back of the squad car the urge to puke welled up inside me.

I'd never been arrested before. I mean sure... cops had confronted me here and there, but blond rich kids just aren't supposed to get this sorta trouble. It's always just the customary warning before I get back to smoking with my buds.

Not this time though. For a whole day I'd been left to sober up barefoot and shivering in a holding cell: cold concrete floor, stainless steel toilet, and a bed with a mattress so thin I could feel the frame underneath. I tried to put on a brave face and act the punk just so the guards wouldn't underestimate me, but not gonna lie- I was close to tears.

It was only when Dad arrived to bail me out that I realized he'd left me in there to stew. He'd dressed as if he'd just come out of an executive meeting: fully decked out in his crisp black suit and wine-red tie, shoes polished and cufflinks gleaming. His eyes were cold as he stared at me through the bulletproof plexiglass, and the difference between us was an unmistakable sign of who was in charge at that moment. I withered under his gaze, instinctively trying to make myself look smaller.

Dad hadn't said a word when the door was unlocked. He just led me out of the station and to the car in absolute, stony silence.

The car ride back, I'd been sandwiched between two of his security officers... with their black suits, sunglasses, and earpieces they looked like either some Secret Service or mob enforcer shit... just to press home further how much trouble I was in. I sat between them, huddled into myself and nervous about what was to come. There was gonna be a whole world of pain waiting for me, I knew. I would've tried to talk myself out of the situation, but at that moment there was this oppressive, icy mood that hung in the air. It was just too terrifying to break it.

When I finally learned what I was in trouble for, I was in utter disbelief. The drug charges I'd expected, but everyone at that party was getting high to some degree or another, and those could be swept under the rug easily enough.

No, I got in trouble all because Evie had a bad reaction to the stuff I'd given her. Can you believe it? A girl pukes and passes out with her panties around her knees and some fuckwit has to lose their shit and call an ambulance. Happens all the fucking time at house parties all across the country, except now her parents have her taken to the hospital acting as if she'd nearly OD'ed. And on top of that her overprotective mom pressures her into getting checked and now she's claiming I raped her little girl.

I mean come the fuck on.

Evie tried to message me, apologize for the whole mess I'd been caught up in because of her. I wasn't interested in hearing it. That girl had enough chances from me, and I should've known she'd be a source of drama ever since she got all upset over wanting to remain a virgin.

It was so fucking unfair.

So yeah, even though I was technically under house arrest I wasn't gonna take this shit. I tried to be reasonable of course, tried telling Dad my side of the story. It'd just been casual fun. No one had actually gotten hurt. And besides, even Evie admitted it was her fault and she's just begging me to forgive her for fucking me over like this.

The heavy slap I'd gotten in response had thrown me to the ground, and that shut me up right quick.

Dad tore into me then. Verbally at first, which I hadly listened to. The moment he unbuckled his belt like some redneck though, I froze.

Those two goons of his that'd been flanking me on the car ride home? They'd gripped me by the wrists and ankles and stretched me out like I was on a medieval rack. Naked, thrashing and squirming, my yowls that night soon turned into sobs, interrupted by the sound of leather cracking against bare skin as if he were making up for years of lax discipline.

There's something especially terrifying about being thrashed by your dad. He's the first authority figure you'd ever known, and as a kid he was the only person you'd ever trusted. My childhood seemed to flash before my eyes as he beat me that night... memories of him carrying me on his shoulders, taking me to the park, buying me ice cream. I hadn't thought about that sappy shit for years, not after I hit puberty and learned to foster a general resentment of him.

Now though, with him flogging me until I was raw and pink as a lobster? I took every one of those fond childhood memories and mentally shredded them. Me and Dad hadn't gotten along in years, but now he was fucking dead to me.

If Dad thought the abuse he leveled at me that night would make me docile, he was fucking wrong. I was more pissed off than ever. Being put under house arrest had been meant to give me "time to think about what I'd done," as if I weren't the real victim here.

The door clicks open. Dad never bothered to knock anymore, not after what'd happened. I turn away, burying my face in the pillows. My eyes are puffy and red, and I refuse to let him see me like this.

"Ken, meet me in the dining room. We need to talk."

I knew what this is about. There's no avoiding it, but I still drag my feet. Takes me half an hour to pull on a shirt and scrub my face with cold water to wake me up a little. I don't have much autonomy under this roof anymore, but I can still take some small amount of pleasure in making Dad wait. Besides, I have a good excuse for being sluggish. With all the talk going on of what dad is gonna do to me I hadn't been sleeping well.

I study my reflection in the bathroom mirror: my eyes are bloodshot and my eyelids are sagging, ringed with dark circles, like a raccoon.

I thump down the stairs to the dining room, and there he is sitting patiently and reading over a letter. Christ, snail mail in this day and age?

Dad takes off his reading glasses and rubs his eyes. "I'm sending you to an old friend in Japan."

I blink, and it takes a minute to really parse what he'd just said. Granted I'm part-Japanese, and I've spoken the language since I was five. But I'd never really thought of myself as anything but American. This had just come outta the blue, and the world seems to spin. What he just said makes no fucking sense, to the point that "I'm sending you to Japan" sounds like a jumble of disconnected words rather than a real sentence.

First time that ever happened to me sober.

"Wh-what?"

"I'm making the arrangements when I can. Things are a bit busy for now, but I expect that at the end of the month you'll be training under Gouken Sensei for a few years," he stabs a finger at me, "and you will address him that way."

"Sensei-? What the hell? You really think some guy teaching me karate is gonna do anything?!" I snap. A few years?!

"Be quiet!" dad's voice cracks like a whip, and he slams his palm against the tabletop. I jump. The memory of having my ass whipped raw is still fresh in my mind. He points to the chair beside him. For a moment I hesitate, still clinging to the urge to dig in my heels and drag out every single command he gives me. But given Dad's mood I only let myself stand there for a few seconds before I take a seat. Slowly.

"He's the hardest man I know," Dad grunts, "Frankly the only one I'm sure will have an impact on you. He keeps his students in line with a firm hand, so you'll need to be on your best behavior. His dojo is also a couple of miles from the nearest village, so you won't have any distractions either."

You guys have heard of Serenity Cove, right? That one "treatment facility" for guys my age who piss off their parents once too often. They're shipped to this concrete building in Jamaica: bars on the windows, doors locked down at night. The guys there pretty much keep you on a diet of gruel and beatings to fix you. It's the kinda place that's made several juicy 20/20 specials. Ever since I was put on lockdown I'd been thinking that Dad would be sending me to some discipline camp like that. But then again they'd been shut down for ages, so I thought I'd be safe from this shit.

How wrong I was.

Every detail is a stab in the gut. My shoulders tremble with anger. I didn't really think it'd go this far, or so soon. My girlfriends, my social life... I'd be missing out on the rest of high school. Only a real dumbass buys into the "these are the best years of your life" line of bullshit, but if this is what Dad's gonna do to me I'm gonna be uprooted from everything I know.

"I already know how to fight," I grumble.

"You're not going there to learn how to fight. You're going there to learn how to behave. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Dad..." I try to smooth the frustration from my voice. My fists tighten, bunching up the cloth of my shorts, and the back of my throat begins to ache from trying to choke back the tears. Daddy... please...

Maybe he'd listen to reason. Maybe he'd let up if I promise to be good. I could probably even beg a little, for once. Lay low for a few months until this all blows over. Already my palms are beginning to sweat. A few years in the hands of a creepy old stranger, off in the middle of nowhere. Daddy please don't send me away...

"I hate you."

It comes out quiet and resigned, and I'd be on the edge of tears if I weren't felt so freaked out. There's just nothing else I can do.

"Hate me all you like, boy. But after a couple years you'll realize that this has been for your own good."

I really fucking hate it when old people say that.
 
~~~~~
 
I'd been scowling, slumped in the backseat of the car as it wound its way through the little-used roads of rural Japan. It's a hot day, but the air conditioning is turned up full blast and a comfortably icy chill tickles my skin.

"Master Gouken is one of the best, Ken," Dad says, breaking the silence. There's the slightest bit of affection in his voice, as if he's sorry it's come to this, "I suggest you behave yourself. Gouken is rather old-fashioned and he won't tolerate any nonsense. His ways of hammering out the rough edges can be a bit harsh."

I just stare straight ahead in a cold fury. Ever since dad told me about this Japan thing I'd been in a pretty bad mood.
I'd snapped back at the caretakers, gave the house staff hell, even tried to run away a couple of times. Those little escapades lasted only a couple of nights until I eventually loped back to the mansion or was dragged back home by the scruff of the neck. It was rather sobering how few real friends I had after the fallout landed, especially after I was chased out of several of my former girlfriends’ houses by their angry mothers. Usually I could just give a lopsided grin and smooth things over with women of any age. Once they start coming at me armed with a broom, though, I hightail it outta there.

Christ. They were treating me like I was some kind of stray cat.

As for Dad, the only real acknowledgment I gave him then was when he was ordering a karate gi for me. I'd ignored him, still staring daggers wherever I looked, until he shrugged and said he’d just order a plain white one.

"Make it red," I'd muttered. If I was going to be shipped off to some dojo in the wilderness I was going to at least go in style. A nice, fiery red was probably all I could do to suit me, but it’d be enough. It had to.

We drive past a pissant little town. I hadn’t seen a Starbucks for hours now, and that’s saying something about how far removed we were from any real civilization. I stare at the small white houses as we whiz past, and the unpaved dirt road becomes bumpy. Little rocks thrown up by the wheels clatter against the underside of the car.

"It’s just a few miles uphill now," Dad continues. Oddly enough I wish he would talk a little more. It's harder to ignore him when his words are punching through these long periods of deafening silence. A continual drone of instructions and moral lectures or whatever would’ve been easier to brush off.

A couple of figures, one tall and muscled, one slight and shorter, appear in the distance, standing patienty along the curve of the hill. They wait patiently as the car rolls up next to them.

Master Gouken is a tall motherfucker, hard as a rock, with an intimidating face that looks like it'd been carved in stone. His long graying beard is still peppered with black streaks, and someone his age should've gone flabby long ago, like a retired athlete. Granted, the belt at his waist bulges outwards with a slight paunch, but by his build it looks like the man is still pure muscle.

The boy standing next to him, however, bounces boyishly on his toes for a moment, eager and excited even as he tries to set his jaw like his Sensei. His gi is white, though a bit worn, and a snow-white headband holds back his auburn bangs. He looks at me, and a hint of a smile twitches at his lips. Dad had told me we were about the same age, but there's something about him that made him seem kinda kiddish if stoic, less experienced in the ways of the world. It's kinda cute in a way, how he's all fresh-faced and bright-eyed like a freshman new to school. Then again, living in a secluded dojo your entire life would do that. Fuckin’ country boys.

Dad had told me to keep the packing to a minimum. I'd been allowed to bring my phone along, but even though Dad had said there's no way I'd pick up a wifi signal out here I'm still holding out hope. The laptop he'd given me is brand new and stripped down to the bare essentials for me to do homework on. Aside from those two bits of tech a couple sets of gi and t-shirts, a water bottle, a few candy bars and snacks, and some basic hygiene products are all I'd have in the world for the next few years. Some of that is gonna run out pretty quick, I suspect. Nothing else Western, nothing else that belonged to me. All I'd have would be in this bag.

This is gonna be hell, I tell myself as I get out of the car.

"Gouken Sensei," dad says politely in Japanese, bowing, "This is Ken, as we spoke of. Be polite, Ken. Bow to the Sensei."

"Yo," I say coolly, lazily shifting my weight.

Maybe I'm pressing my luck, but I smile inside just a little as Dad clenches his jaw, "Forgive him, Sensei. He’s been quite troublesome as of late." Gouken doesn't bat an eye.

"So you’ve told me," Gouken’s voice is gruff even as he pats the other teen's head warmly, "This is Ryu. He’s my adopted student."

Ryu gives a brisk bow, "Good to meet you."

"He’s always wanted a brother of sorts; an old man like me can hardly provide that sort of companionship," Gouken looks to the two of us, "Now you boys go off and play. Mr. Masters and I must talk." Christ. He just spoke to us like we're ten years old!

"Come on, Ken," Ryu says as he takes me by the hand with a smile. His grip is firmer than I'd expected, his fingers slightly callused, "Lemme show you where we’ll be sleeping together."
 
~~~~~
 When I first arrived doing a barefoot five mile run along the mountain trail was pure agony. The rocks and gravel that pounded at my feet were bad enough, but the sun beating down on them had left the trail as searing hot as summer concrete. I didn't have Ryu's stamina either, and my arms would be limp at my sides as I staggered, panting like a bitch and mewling between breaths at him to slow down. My bare arms would be beaded with perspiration, the gi would be damp and clinging to my skin. Stray wisps of golden hair that'd fallen out of my ponytail would stick to my cheeks. The experience had been too miserable to worry about looking cool.He'd turned his head back once or twice and sure enough he'd fall back while pumping his fists like normal, but soon I'd be lagging again. The first day we did that run it'd almost been noon when we returned to the dojo. Gouken was sitting cross-legged on the porch drinking sake. He'd been waiting for well over an hour, and when we broke through the foliage Ryu was carrying me on his back, both of us dripping with sweat and gasping for breath. He staggered towards Gouken for several steps before collapsing, with me on top of him. The both of us groaned from the dusty ground.Though we were supposed to have our first sparring session that afternoon I had to lie in bed for two days while my bruised feet healed up. Ryu on the other hand was just fatigued and dehydrated... guy had leather for the soles of his feet, and after a night's rest and plenty of water he was back to doing katas in the sun. I was left to sit on the porch, watching him.The run along the mountain trails was supposed to be a half-hour warmup session, followed by an hour of practicing forms before we broke for lunch. Another hour of forms then, followed by two hours of strength and balance training and sparring before we settled into cooldown exercises and stretching. By that point we were pretty grimy with dirt and sweat, which meant a quick shower before we changed into a clean set of gi and sat down to meditate.Normally I'd never have the patience to sit in one spot for more than five minutes. I've got a lot of pent-up energy in me, and I always need to keep moving whether it's tapping my foot while sitting in class or going to the gym. But holy shit the regimen Gouken had me running through was grueling. You'd think that meditation would be a great break from it all, but it was just a slower, quieter form of torture where I'd have to sit perfectly still and watch my breathing when all I wanted to do is flop into a real bed and sleep until dinnertime.I mean sure, I'd sometimes get a break afterward, practically sobbing in relief when I got to just splay out on the floor like a lazy cat while Ryu went off to prepare dinner. But sometimes I wouldn't even get that. As I mentioned earlier, whenever the two of us sparred we'd wager chores for whoever won the most rounds that day, and often this meant I'd be stuck helping out with cleaning and kitchen duty. With housekeepers and maids back home the most I'd ever done was butter my own bread, and now I was expected to learn how to use a vegetable peeler?Thankfully the first time Ryu handed me the kitchen knife had also turned into the last.I have to move slowly when I begin to clear the dishes tonight. My whole body is aching... my legs are sore and trembling, my back seems like it's creaking when I move. My arms feel as if they're weighed down with bags of sand, and my hands tremble slightly as I stack them. Several large bruises are forming along my chest and stomach, from today's sparring session. And holy shit my feet are killing me... I must've pounded them against every single rock and pebble on the mountainside during this morning's run."We must talk," Gouken says among the clatter of dishes. Ryu looks up as he pours the tea.I wince, and a shiver crawls up my spine. If we're gonna sit down for a serious chat it's more than likely gonna be aboout something I'd done. Usually after-dinner tea is just the three of us sitting around quietly. For contemplation, Gouken said, and it was good for digestion. Though it's not like your stomach needs to work much on a diet of just pickled vegetables, rice, tofu, and fish.What I wouldn’t give for a nice, juicy burger."I just learned that Master Takaki passed away a few days ago," Master Gouken continues. Tension that I didn’t realize I'd been holding in my shoulders melts away. I'd just started to tiptoe gingerly for nothing, then. Was it wrong to feel relief at another guy’s death?Ryu though looks up, eyes widening. He must've known the dude, but he says nothing. Ryu never interrupts his Sensei."I will be going to visit his grave to pay my respects."Ryu finishes pouring my cup then sits down across from Gouken Sensei. For a moment a long, sober silence hangs in the air, but once Ryu takes the first sip from his cup he looks across at Gouken"Should we also pack?" is all he says.Gouken levels a thoughtful look at me for a good few seconds, as if wondering whether it’d be worth the trouble to drag me along. His drift downward to stare into his tea, and hollds the cup in both hands, enjoying the warmth, “No. You two must continue your training.”I'm glad I'm making my way to the kitchen with the dishes when I overhear that, because Gouken can't see the hint of giddy excitement that's blooming on my face. Exhausted as I am I know what this means, even if it takes a few minutes to process.This whole time Gouken had been putting me through the ringer, keeping me too exhausted to cause any trouble. He's trying to break me, like they do in the military... stripping down every ounce of your individuality until you're some robot with a crew cut who'll just follow orders.By the time I put the dishes in the sink and circle back to sit, I've made sure to hide the excitement that's smoldering inside me.Kneeling down next to Ryu I sip my tea. Me and Ryu. Alone. No supervision, no punishment for acting like a little punk. Nothing was going to stop me from showing him a few things his little virgin mind hadn’t even thought of."For how long?" I ask. My voice is smooth, my tone meek, but not too meek, or else he'd know I'm faking it. Okay, just enough meekness to sound like I could be trusted without supervision.Gouken mulls it over, “I will be traveling on foot, so it should take two weeks at least. In truth, a month, I would say. There are some old friends I would also like to meet again.”And with that we fall silent. There's of course the unspoken rule that Ryu would be in charge. He’d be keeping an eye on me, making sure I didn’t do anything wild. Inside I smirk.It's only four days later that Gouken Sensei packs his bag and goes on his way. There'd been a lot of preparation, some discussion and reminders of what chores needed to be done and when to go to town to get supplies. Gouken could never leave his boy on his own for too long, and I suspect this is his first time away on his own in years.Ryu’s goodbyes are quick and heartfelt, while I lean lazily against one of the posts and watched Gouken shrink along the path.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Ki-yah!" I belt out as I drive my fist towards Ryu.He sidesteps the first blow, the second, puts up his arm to block the third. My padded fist cracks into his upraised forearm, and he knocks it to the side, leaving me open. In the same moment Ryu grips my wrist, and in a flash he's raised his knee, leg shooting out in a side-kick that connects with my ribs as he drags me forward to meet his heel."Guh!" It feels like the breath has been knocked from my lungs, and a dull, resonant pain rings through my chest like a gong. My heart skips a beat, and Ryu lets go so I can collapse on the ground, doubled over and clutching my side. The dude pulls his punches and stops his kicks short... this is just sparring, after all, and if he'd put all his strength into it he easily could've shattered my ribcage. Doesn't mean it's painless, though.I'm down for the count.Things didn't change much the first couple days after Gouken left. Ryu was good about sticking to the same routine of waking up at the crack of dawn, prepping breakfast and dragging me into doing chores, before hitting our daily training regimen. And as usual three times a week we'd hike the couple miles down the hill to pick up groceries. It was like fucking clockwork with him... dude has the discipline of some freakishly well-adjusted homeschool kid.I tried to push things though... sleeping in an extra twenty minutes, playing solitaire on my laptop when I should be doing my homework, spending eeeextra long in the bathroom fiddling with my dick to some old vids my bros helped me take. Narcissistic, I know, but shoosh it was all I had. And frankly the porn selection was getting pretty stale by now.Ryu must've noticed that things were getting a little slack around the dojo. Not that it was unexpected, of course. Frankly the real question was what he was gonna do about it. I mean, it wasn't as if the dude could flog me like Gouken would for stepping out of line.What he did have to keep me in line though was our sparring matches.All throughout high school I thought I was the toughest dude around. I've always been one of the elite members in the MMA club, and I've always won every fight I'd ever gotten into. Being able to defend yourself with force is a pretty necessary skill when you have a habit of getting sweet with other guys' girlfriends.Sure I'd gotten my share of bruises, but I'd always been able to wash the blood from my knuckles with a sense of satisfaction and pride at how things had gone down.But then I was put up against Ryu.Now granted, I'm not some soft little punk who'd gone to some after-school dojo twice a week and thought he knew how to fight. I've got some real experience under my belt, and I've been able to get a couple licks in when I fought this country boy. But over the course of a full sparring match? I haven't beaten him.Yet.Bruce Lee had this saying... how did it go again? "I'm not afraid of the man who's learned a thousand moves, I'm afraid of the man who's practiced one move a thousand times." Something like that. That was Ryu's style... just a few short, simple moves, honed to perfection from rote practice. Clean forms, direct strikes, solid instincts and reactions... facing it had been like throwing myself at a wall at the beginning. His defenses were just so... solid.Now though I'm getting a feel for Ryu's style... the few bruises I'd been able to give him had been when I did something wild and unexpected."F-fine..." I cough, struggling to breathe. Fuck I'm gonna be feeling this tonight. "You win this one."Ryu, unsmiling, reaches out with one hand to help me up. I wave him off, needing another minute to recover. Though really I'm also refusing the offer because the idea of him pitying me really rubs me the wrong way."Well, now that that's settled... tonight I'll need you to take the laundry down and fold it, wash the dishes, and clean the bathroom tiles.""Fine," I grumble."A warrior doesn't say 'fine'," Ryu chides softly. "He says 'osu!'"Oh for the fucking love of-"Osu..." I grunt, finally taking his hand and pulling myself up to my feet. I'm so tempted to smack that little half-smile off of his face.I know what you're thinking. By now you think I'm some sorta hellion who doesn't give a shit about the rules. Ken Masters wouldn't give two shits about the outcome of a bet. Doesn't matter if Ryu wins, Ken would just ignore the terms like he always does.Oh how you misunderstand me. I'm a playboy, not a fucking sociopath.Here's the thing... if you're gonna buck the rules- number one, you gotta be real careful about choosing which ones to ignore. That was my mistake that landed me here... I'd pushed too far, too fast because I was too busy enjoying my autonomy, and I'd gotten my ass thrown in a holding cell for flying too close to the sun.Number two... sometimes, some rules are worth following. Especially when you wanna use them to your advantage.That's the thing about this whole arrangement I have with Ryu... if the winner of our daily sparring match gets to issue orders to the loser, well... that's a sword that cuts both ways. And so long as I invest in that system along with Ryu, well... he can't complain if the orders I have in mind are a little more- let's say creative- than his.The grass ripples softly in the late summer breeze, coming halfway up to my knees. It's prime sparring ground: the thick grass and soft earth are all the padding you need when you're getting knocked on your ass. The grass stains are a bitch to clean out though.There are other perks too. The stalks give a cool, satisfying crunch between my bare toes as me and Ryu gather our satchels and head back towards the dojo. There's an earthy sweetness to the air, one that's so fresh and unfamiliar that I can't quite tell if it's the smell of rural Japan, or if it's just something I'd never been exposed to having been a city kid all my life. The sky's got that warm golden hue of a late afternoon.Okay, not gonna lie, it's actually pretty gorgeous here sometimes. Fucking scary at night though, since it gets so pitch-dark without any street lamps at night. You can't walk any of the paths without a lantern.Still, night means a sky full of stars... like, call me a dumbfuck or whatever, but out here in the country when you look up, you can actually see the Milky Way, and it totally makes sense why they call it that. Like a white road stretching from one horizon to the other.Of course, the fact that I have chores to look forward to is kind of a mood-killer.Funny thing is, when I first got here I totally had a plan on how to weasel my way out of them... just do a real shit job, and after a few broken plates and ruined shirts Gouken would realize it just isn't worth making me help around the dojo.What I hadn't anticipated though was how easily I would fuck up without even trying. I mean granted, I'd never had to really do dishes or fold a shirt before in my life. That's what the help is for. But like, realizing how bad you are at what you'd think are basic life skills is kind of a fucking wake-up call. Gouken would just stare quietly at seeing what I'd done, with me fuming in shame. And then he'd tell me to do it again, and do it right this time."Hmm. I hadn't realized I would have to train you over something so basic," he'd say.The first couple times I'd just had to swallow my humiliation as Ryu explained shit to me like I was a five-year-old, but after the third or fourth dropped dish or damp piece of laundry fallen into the dirt... well you should know Gouken's disciplinary methods by now.It was just a little swat or two really, but while it didn't leave me having to sleep on my stomach the whole night, it was by far the punishments that felt the most unfair. I hadn't even tried to make your life harder from that, asshole.By the time I tuck the last poorly-folded uwa-gi away I was so completely done with shit and ready for dinner. Not like the miso soup, pickled vegetables, and fish were any more palatable. It's just that I'd been on all fours scrubbing the tiles for over half an hour and my knees are killing me.Sitting down with him in the dining room, I pluck out the fatty bits of fish from the miso and finish them off as I wait for the soup itself to cool. Every day the thoughts of steak and mashed potatoes become more distant. Every night those bedtime fantasies about girls grow less pronounced. The things you yearn for fade with time and distance I suppose, especially when you’re living like a monk. Crappy food and isolation does the trick.But basic instincts can’t be quenched. No matter how plain the fare is and how isolated you are, at the end of the day you’re still a teenage dude with certain needs. And right now, after a long day of training and chores, those needs are going at a low simmer."You forgot to water the plants today," Ryu says as he sips from his bowl. "You're supposed to do it from Thursday to Saturday.""Yeah well, hard to tell what day of the week it is here." Normally I'd count the days via when my favorite YouTube channels update. Or I'd be checking my phone every ten minutes and browsing Twitter and sexting."Just because Gouken-sensei isn't here to remind you is no reason to grow lax." Okay, now he's just chiding.Fuck off, dude, I don't answer to you, I think to myself. But all that comes out is a bland, expressionless"Uh-huh."Ryu sets his bowl down and places both hands on his knees. Despite wanting to keep a straight face, I can't help but let out a little snort. I'm used to that formal, authoritative pose from Gouken during meditation time. Right now Ryu just looks like a little kid trying to wear big-boy pants so he could act like Daddy."Ken... this has been happening more often with each day that passes. I know you like to test things, but suppose you let your bad habits return... what happens when Gouken-sensei comes home and sees you behave like this?"A vein in my temple throbs, and my ass clenches reflexively, like it's tensing a split-second before the strap lands. A trickle of sweat drips down my back... I tell myself it's the humidity, the heat, but somehow it feels like a trail of ice threading down my spine, echoing the crawling sensation that worms up along it. Despite the sudden adrenaline rush, I keep my face still as I blow on my soup."Uh-huh.""Ken... I want you to-""Uh-huh.""Ken!" Ryu snaps, slapping his palm on the floor.The thought of getting my ass whipped again must've put me on alert, because I jump at that. Hot miso soup sloshes over the rim of the bowl, splashing againt my thumb and spattering against my chest. Letting out a curse I set he bowl down and start dabbing at the spill with a napkin."You need to be better than this," Ryu says, his voice hardening. And then, just as I'm focused on cleaning myself off, Ryu says something so fucking perfect that I have to stare at him in stunned silence for a moment."I want to adjust our wager for tomorrow."My heart skips a beat. His words echo in my ears, as if I'm trying to convince myself that I'd heard them correctly. This whole week I thought I'd be the one to propose this, but this is just too fucking perfect that Ryu had to bring it up first."Change how...?" I say neutrally.Come on, don't let him get suspicious..."The loser of the match, on top of deciding who gets to do what chores, will also have to water the plants every day of the week. Regardless of the outcome, you won't be losing track then."I snort. "That's pretty weaksauce, dude. Where's my incentive, huh? What do I get out of it?"Ryu blinks. "Well... if you win... you'll get out of doing this chore completely. Until Gouken-sensei returns, of course.""Well maybe I'd prefer the arrangement we have now instead of taking the chance of having that whole chore added to my roster."I mean, granted, watering the plants wasn't that bad. It's just kinda gross when there are a ton of gnats in the soil and they all fly up at you in response."I don't know what you mean," says Ryu."Come on, you don't care about the plants, dude," I lean back and roll my eyes, tossing my damp napkin on the table. "What you really care about is I follow along and be a good little boy scout like you."Ryu's levels a cool stare at me. With how flat his expression is in general I can't tell if he's annoyed or surprised. I know I hit home there."And what is it you care about?" he asks."Something that's actually interesting," I shrug, "Something that just... shakes things up, dude.""Well... if you wish. But whatever the wager is, and whether you win or lose," Ryu crosses his arms, "it cannot interfere with our training.""Okay, how about this..." I grin, leaning in. "Tomorrow, the loser of the match... will have to do anything the winner says. Like okay, training and chores in the daytime. But once the sun sets... until the old man comes back, loser has to be the winner's fucking slave." ~~~~~ I let out a hard little chuff... palms against the floorboards, my tailbone pressed up against the base of a wooden pillar. Ryu's heels are planted against my inner ankles with a firm but gentle pressure. Little by little, inch by inch, he helps spread my legs into a deep side-split. There's a certain tension in the air: a prickly edge that leaves my skin pebbled with goosebumps. This sparring match is gonna be a game changer.Ryu's gotta feel it too, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't help me with a little partnered stretching.We'd done our laps around the dojo as a warmup, gone through a battery of light stretches before we practiced our katas. Now we're onto our cooldown stretches, pushing the boundaries of our flexibility a little bit more each day. I wince, savoring the sweet burn of tendons and ligaments straining, and consciously will my legs to relax... settling into the stretch.I grunt. I sweat. The breath comes out of me in shallow pants. I can feel my muscles melting into it, becoming more malleable.Guess that practice doing meditation is good for something after all.When it came to partnered stretching, I'd done Ryu first... but unlike him I'd delighted in pressing him further and further, pushing him past his limits where the discomfort turned into straight-up pain. He'd let out a strangled gasp when I pressed his ankles back with a firm little shove that just barely passed for accidental, hissing a desperate "stopstopstop!" as he flushed and winced, legs spread so far apart it felt as if I was close to breaking him in half like a wishbone. Watching him turn pink, hands balled up into fists as he drummed them against the floor, his face twisted into a grimce of clenched teeth and scrunched-up features...Not gonna lie... kinda popped a bit of a chub seeing him suffer.Like, it's not the first time this has happened. I've had pretty detailed fantasies of this little country boy in pain... chest heaving, skin drenched in sweat, grunting with exertion before begging me to go a little easier... insisting that I was hurting him. Maybe he's a little bruised and bloodied... maybe my knuckles are too.And if I really gotta be honest, I've jacked off to the mental image before. Just a couple times, really. More like I was just toying with the idea.Oh come on. It's not like that. Like okay, there's some touchy full-body physical contact that gets kinda intimate when you do partnered stretching... nothing faggy, just the same sort of intimacy you'd get when you wrestle at a sleepover. Just dudes being dudes, and sometimes our bodies just get worked up over every little thing, y'know? Besides, I'd run out of fresh porn weeks ago, and it's not like I got anything else to whack it to.Does that make me weird? I don't think it makes me weird.I turn to the side then, leaning down towards one leg. Reaching out I grip my toes with one hand. Pulling myself into a deeper stretch, I twist my body and reach out with the other hand, fingertips digging deep into the fleshy ball of my foot. I was no stranger to going all Huck Finn, especially during the summer when I get to feel the cool grass between my toes, but the daily training had turned the soles of my feet tough and leathery.My ribcage is creaking, my breathing had bottomed out into shallow huffs. For a full count of ten I hold that stretch. The tendons and muscles along my inner thigh, close to my knee, are creaking with a pain that's beginning to sharpen to a point. When I finally let go there's a deep sweetness to the relief, like cracking your knuckles after working with your hands for a while."F-f-fuuuuck..." I groan. For another ten seconds I sit there, hissing between my teeth, before I tell Ryu to ease up.Gradually he relaxes the pressure, then pulls his heels back from where he'd been pressing them against my calves. I need to bring my legs together slowly, wincing as my muscles and tendons readjust. Ryu sits across from me, cross-legged, his expression flat as I settle back in to rest."Ken... why are you so miserable here?"I blink, looking up at him in an instant, a few free ends of my golden bangs falling into my face and clinging to my sweaty brow. Brushing them aside, I goggle at Ryu. The question is so out of the blue that for a long, solid moment I stare at him."Do you seriously have to fucking ask?" I let out a sound that's something between a cough and a bitter laugh.Of course he did. Ryu didn't know what I had going for me back home. Fucking country hick didn't know how sweet I had it... not just the basic necessities of life like wifi, or even a fucking reliable source of electricity. And not just my stuff... my $12,000 gaming rig, my designer clothes, or even my porn collection.Naw... what I really lost, what I might not get back ever again thanks to that fuckstorm of an ordeal when the cops were called... was heaven itself.I'd lost the sweet ecstasy of humid nights in the bedroom, a dozen bodies moving to the rhythm of the music... hearing the grunts of my bros, the pitched moans of the girls. I'd lost the long, delicious pleasure of being pressed between two of the cutest ones, feeling their soft, warm curves sliding against me in a liquid rhythm... their moans cresting like waves crashing against the shore. I'd lost the fog of pleasure I'd bask myself in, tinged with pungent white smoke and solvent fumes from small glass bottles. I'd lost the line of blowjobs I'd get one after another... the first licking off the juices of another girl's pussy, the rest eager for a nice, clean taste of my seed.No worries. No stress. No second-guessing.Not a care in the world.And what replaced it? Daily punishments. Beatings. Chores. Martial arts lessons like I'm some scrub. The food was the same bland shit every day. Now my nights were wasted with dreamless sleep, or restless tossing and turning because my libido is burning at a low simmer. All too often I just didn't have the energy to pleasure myself... the most I could do was reach into my pants and stroke it a little, or grind it into the sheets like a virgin, just to take the edge off.And to top it all... every day Ryu would assign me the chores he'd wanted done. Every day I'd be doing the laundry by hand in a tub, or scrubbing the floors, or carrying all the damn grocieries up the three-mile hike we had to make uphill. Because every fucking day we sparred my ass had been beaten by this country boy. Oh I'd get my licks in... one round out of five, maybe two... but never three. Never enough to claim the right to make him mop the fucking floors on hands and knees for once.Some might've admired Ryu... wanted to be his friend and earn his approval. Most would, really. Thing is, people like that are omega-tier on the social ladder. Me? I'm an alpha dog.Or maybe they would've envied Ryu... jealous of his skills in the sparring ring. And yeah, again, most would. All that means is those pussies have, on some level, accepted that they're inferior.Not me. On either of those counts. All I feel for him, all I let myself feel... is loathing.Ryu only stares at me as I mull all of this over. Maybe he thought that I'd break that long, thick silence between us and open up, but with a sigh and a shake of his head, he lets it go. Fine by me. Country boy could never understand.I bounce for a bit in a crouching position to work the blood back into my limbs. Technically you're not supposed to do static stretches before you exercise, but apparently Gouken didn't get the memo, and neither did his disciple.I can feel the tension in the air, like an over-wound spring. I adjust my gi and re-tie my obi, while Ryu adjusts his white headband and makes sure his sparring gloves are properly strapped. It's a match of physical strength, discipline, and training, but the little details do build on each other. It honestly feels like the potential margin is razor-thin now, even if I'd never won a best-of-five match before. Cloth that restricts your movements just a bit too much, or a tuft of hair falling over your eyes at the wrong moment, could mean defeat.Today though... there would only be one round that decided it all. After all, in real-world combat you don't get to count the best out of five matches. A warrior who loses doesn't get a do-over on the battlefield. That at least gives me the chance to pull a rabbit out of my ass and eke out an unconventional win.My heart's drumming against my ribcage, and a nervous shudder tingles down my scalp. Part of me is starting to wonder if goading Ryu into this challenge was a good idea after all. One round would decide whether I'd be scrubbing floors and doing the laundry every damn night until Gouken came home. Or it could give me the chance to make Ryu's life a living hell."Once the sun sets... until the old man comes back, loser has to be the winner's fucking slave."Part of me wondered why he'd agreed to this match, knowing the stakes. Part of me suspected he’d try to back out, or warn me not to get in over my head. Was he that confident he'd win, knowing he'd won every bout of sparring we'd had? No... no that's not like Ryu. He's just too perfect. Dude doesn't even have the smidgen of pride in his own abilities to simply assume he was going to beat me again just because he had before.So there's some comfort, at least. Ryu probably is feeling as uncertain as I am. If only he showed that uncertainty on his face.We stand on opposite ends of the training room, staring each other down. Ryu's features are flat and expressionless, eyes hard like dark jasper as they fix on me. My face breaks into a lazy grin, and I give him a coy wink and blow a kiss, as if I know something he doesn't. If that psychs him out he doesn't show it, though.Out of all the people in Japan, I'd had to be paired off with someone who's my complete polar opposite as my training buddy. Ryu's so stony and reserved, while I'm wild and smarmy. He values silence, while I'm more used to the ambient noises of the city and the sound of music or YouTube videos playing in the background. He's obedient, I'm independent. He's built on rote tradition, and me...I'm a rebel."It'll be pretty sweet watching you scrub the floors and do the dishes for the next few weeks," I smirk.A hint of a smile smile creeps up on Ryu’s lips, "Well, at least if I win it won't be any different from the last two months you've been here."Motherfucker! That's probably the first joke I've ever heard from him.We needed no countdown, no announcement to say the match had begun. Just a bow to one another before our poses tense. Our postures shift into a side-stance with our guards up as we plant our weight on our toes.Normally I'm the one who moves first, advancing toward him on the balls of my feet and trying to land the first strike. But today I root myself in place, hanging back and trying to get a feel for the energy in the air. Most days I'm humming in the back of my head, or recalling a song... something high-energy, something to work out to. Today though my mind's quiet: it takes a little force of will to still myself both physically and mentally is all.Ryu senses the difference. When I refuse to budge, surrending the opportunity to test his defenses, I notice the unease in his gaze: the sense that something today is different, that today it will be different.And that's what I'd realized when I first came up with this idea. A sparring match is a little like poker. It isn't just about the cards you're holding... it's all about the mindgame. The little tells you pick up, the false signals you send out. Narrowed eyes, a twitch in a cheek, the way a player's eyes shift as he considers what he has. A joke, a taunt. Upping the stakes or doubling down. That's how you get someone to second-guess himself, to begin to fold.And now, Ryu's made the first move.He closes in with a half-step, and another. When he gets close enough... that's when I strike.Ryu's fast and light on his feet, blocking my punches, dodging my kicks. Every time I swing my fist he slides out of the way or my wrist-guard glances off of his upraised forearm. I lunge at him in a flurry of jabs and short kicks. He knocks most aside, or dodges them if he doesn't.He sidesteps and turns now and again, twisting out of my way and shifting his stance so I don't press him into the corner. He squeezes in a punch or kick, breaking my assault as he counters with his own punches peppering the air between us. Our bare feet squeak against polished wood. Our heels drum into the floor as we trade blows. His bare arms glisten with sweat, cheeks damp with perspiration, and I'm more or less in the same state.Ryu reacts more quickly to me when he blocks my strikes, but over time I'd gotten to know his pattern of attacks well enough that I can counter them from muscle memory. After weeks of training with Ryu, of sparring with him on a daily basis, it's become an even match of well-honed discipline versus raw instinct.Except... it isn't an even match. Every sparring session with him, the rare wins I'd earned on individual rounds happened early on. By the third bout and on I'd lose. I hadn't noticed the pattern at first, but one night while I was scrubbing the laundry and thinking of spitting on Ryu's damp gi that I'd been cleaning, I'd realized the problem.In my eagerness to beat the smug little fuck I'd gone all offense.It'd worked for me back home, when no one thought the class prettyboy could put up a fight if he got jumped for banging another dude's sister or girlfriend. Back then raw aggression would put my attackers off-balance enough for me to down them and stomp them into the gravel. But here it meant that all Ryu would have to do is play defense. There was nothing unnecessary in his movements, no effort wasted. He was patient. He'd conserve his stamina until I ran outta enough juice that he'd squeeze in the defining strike.So today I shift my focus more to defense, suppress the urge to charge in with the force of a wildfire. And that also helps puts him off his game. I know the cards in his hand, but does he know what I'm holding?I'm tempered... calm, almost, when I let slip my defenses just a hair.And here we go... the bluff.When Ryu takes the bait I'm ready for him. I tense, angling my body as his fist drives towards me so most of the force glances off my abs. I barely feel the blow, and in a flash I grab his wrist with one hand, a fistful of white cloth with the other.I abandon the defensive, and roll backwards.The look on his face is precious as he falls: his eyes widen in shock as I plant my heel against his slim, rock-hard stomach, flinging him behind me as I drive the kick into his body. Ryu's white headband ripples in the air behind him as he flies, and he gives a strangled yelp as he lands awkwardly, body slamming against the dojo floor. I know he didn’t break anything: falling right is the first thing you learn in martial arts, but even honed as his instincts are they failed him just now and he lands poorly.I'm on my feet in a flash, snarling as I throw myself at him. He cries out again as my hands grab his wrists.See, Ryu's no doubt a touch faster. He's a good deal more experienced even if I'm catching up quickly. And most importantly, he's got stamina to spare. Our morning runs proved that on a daily basis.But Asians have an inherent problem with being slim, lightweight, and quick on their toes. Being mixed means I'm built just a little denser, and even those few extra pounds of muscle mass I have on him means I have the advantage when grappling.We grunt as we roll over on the wood-paneled floor- struggling, panting, our tense, sweaty bodies grinding against each other as we use our knees and elbows. He wriggles furiously against my grip, going pink with exertion. Somewhere in the struggle he cracks me in the jaw, and in exchange I jab him in the side of his face, throwing him back hard enough that in the rebound his skull bounces against the floor.All of Ryu's catlike grace is gone, and he fights to his last ounce of strength like a trapped animal. His muscles strain against mine, and he almost breaks free a few times, but I still grin down at him and put my weight into the hold. He snarls in frustration as he writhes and thrashes, knees and elbows and heels drumming against the floorboards. We're locked in an ancient and primal battle: predator and prey, Alpha and Omega.Top and bottom."Give up..." I hiss, just as Ryu bucks and thrashes and tries to knock me off of him. He throws me off balance just for an instant, and while he tries to turn over and scramble out from under me I surge forward and grab the back of his uwa-gi like I'm holding a kitten by the scruff of its neck. When I shove him down with all my weight, his skull makes a satisfying crack as it strikes the floor.Before Ryu can get his bearings though, I shift my hold and pin one arm behind his back. Held down firmly now, with me sitting on him, I drive my fist into his side."Give up!" I huff, winded. If I'm this tired Ryu must be real fucking exhausted, but even now he clenches his jaw and only lets out a strained grunt as I pound him in the ribs.His free hand scrapes against the polished wood. His sweaty toes squeak as he still tries to slip out from under me. The meaty sound of my fist ramming into his torso again and again fills the air in tandem with his strained grunts. It's only when I jab one knuckle in between his ribs and twist deep that he lets out a sharp yowl of pain."I- I gi- ARGH! I give up!!!""Y-yeah?" I pant, still pinning him down, "You really give up!?""Y-yes... yes!" he hisses.My hand grips his head, locks of hair sweaty and damp between my fingers. He doesn't put up any resistance when I mash his cheek into the floor."And you'll do anything for me until Gouken gets back?""...anything. On my honor as a warrior, I'll do what you want tonight, and every night until Gouken-sensei returns.""Good..." I grin, rolling off of him. Lying flat on my back on the ground next to him I wait until my breathing steadies. As the adrenaline rush begins to recede, the pain of being clipped in the jaw starts to bloom. He'd gotten me harder than I'd expected, but after the bruises I'd taken over the past couple months I'm not gonna let this ruin my victory.For a good little while we just lie next to each other. The sweat is cooling on our bodies, our heavy breathing tapers off. The sun fades through the trees, and the sky begins to turn gold the way it does in the late afternoon.The next couple hours are gonna be the usual: icing our bruises, meditating, and prepping for dinner. But once the sun sets, once it's officially nighttime, things are gonna change around here.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Ryu's arms tremble as he upends the basin of warm water over his head, rinsing the soap from his body. It cascades over his weary muscles and soothes the aches from his bones, and washes over the raw patch in his side where I'd pounded him in our sparring match. The flesh around his eye is mottled and swollen, along with a patch of skin over one eyebrow where I'd slammed his head into the floor. He'll be forming nice dark bruises in the days to come.The guy had taken his punishment like a champ. At no point did he resist or complain when I ordered him to do something unreasonable. Most I ever got was an exasperated glance, quickly hidden, when I ordered him to do a hundred pushups on the spot, or thirty laps around the dojo. This was, of course, on top of the standard chores like laundry and dishes and scrubbing the floor.I was testing things, pushing the boundaries. Granted, I knew this whole time that Ryu would stick to our wager and obey. He was honorable like that, even if I wasn't gonna be the same on my end. But I needed to see it in action... and Ryu needed to feel the weight of his oath.And I swear, watching him run past for the fifteenth lap, flashlight in hand so he didn't run into something in the pitch-black darkness, made me kinda giddy.The end result though was that Ryu was completely drenched in sweat and exhausted by the time we entered the bath... even quieter than usual, and docile as a well-trained dog. It almost made me feel bad, torturing him like this... though it certainly made me excited.Besides, first trick of training a new puppy is tiring it out first.Ryu takes a little extra time to soak, leaning his head back into the edge of the tub as the hot water draws the aches from his muscles. I'm standing in front of the mirror, blow drying my hair. As usual the electricity is spotty, and the dryer stutters now and again. In the corner of my eye I notice Ryu wincing as the sound of the dryer flickers and sputters. Even now I'm grating on his patience and sapping his stamina, and I'm not even trying.Once I'm reasonably dry though I pull on my undies and head to our room. It's a warm night, and I can let my body air dry a little. The thin layer of moisture still clinging to my skin wicks away in cooling gusts, but deep inside the heat of anticipation pulses inside me.It's been so fucking long. At this point I don't fucking care if it's with another dude.My mouth is practically watering as I fish out the vape pen I'd smuggled into Japan. The plastic casing still smells faintly of the shampoo bottle I'd hidden it in, even double-bagged. Freshly charged, it makes a satisfying click as I depress the igniter. My hand's trembling in anticipation as I hold it down, letting a good dose of cannabis oil flash into smoke before I inhale.After months of clean country air, this fresh hit is like breathing in car exhaust tinged with burnt coconut oil. I nearly double over coughing like a bitch, but as the smoke settles in my lungs the little spasms, the faint panic in the back of my mind desperate for clean air, settles down. I have to really focus to hold my breath. Soon enough, I'm welcoming back the sweet high like an old friend.I front-load with another couple puffs when I hear the slosh of water coming from the bathroom down the hall. He should be drying off now, but time is starting to dilate, and things are beginning to move at a slower crawl as the cannabis seeps into my bloodstream nice and smooth.So, y'know. If I sound really spacey and hyperfocused as we go on, there's a reason for that.When Ryu finishes up he enters our shared bedroom, wearing loose cotton pants almost indistinguishable from the pair he wears as a part of his gi. His hair is still damp, and it stands up in sharp little tufts from scrubbing it half-dry. A small white towel is draped over his shoulders, and he's still cleaning the back of one ear when he sees me leaning against the wall with a lazy grin on my face. Both of our black obi are draped over my shoulder, and for a moment Ryu's eyes run up and down the length hanging over my bare chest.If Ryu has any suspicions he doesn't show it, but he certainly knows I'm gonna give him an order. For a moment I have that bit of weed-induced paranoia that he's gotta have noticed me all red-eyed right now, and my mind spends a long stretch of time just running in circles at that thought before I realize he's definitely too naive to know what it means.Ryu shakes his head in exasperation, snapping me back to the present. "Ken... be reasonable. We're about to go to bed.""One more thing, dude.""Ken, please..."His tone is neutral, but there's just a hint of begging in it. A bit of resignation. That bare sliver of petulance in his voice stirs something in me that I can't quite explain. I dunno if I'm turned on or just relishing in my power over him right now, but I drag the knuckles of my toes against the floor as I lean toward him."One more thing, and then we can sleep."He sighs and stands there, crossing his arms. His head lowers just a hair, but his gaze is fixed on me. Even though I can feel the irritation coming off him in waves, by this point I know him well enough that I'm certain he won't be putting up a fight. He's too honorable- not to mention too tired- to put in another word of resistance."I want you to come over here."His bare feet make a soft padding sound against the floorboards as he approaches."Now turn around so your back faces me," I smirk.Again, he obeys like a good little slave. For a moment I'm fascinated with the shapes and contours of his back, the meat and muscle around his shoulder blades, the way his lats taper down his sides. You usually don't see Asians pack on much muscle, but Ryu's lean and cut like an Olympian.When I take his wrist though Ryu flinches. My grip tightens in an instant, and he looks back at me in surprise. I silently pull one of the black belts from my shoulder, and grabbing his other wrist I begin tying them together. His arms are stiff at first, but it's not long before they relax into the loops of cloth I'm wrapping around his wrists. Ryu turns away from me and stoically faces forward."Are you going to hit me?" he asks, his tone flat this time.I smirk. "In a way...""Why?" he huffs. "What have I done to you to make you despise me so?"I just hum, tightening the knot."Will you ever tell me?" There's a touch of heat in his words now. Good. A little passion for once."Now kneel. I'm gonna do your ankles."Ryu lets out a sharp breath... almost close to a growl, but nonetheless he obeys. That's just completely him, isn't it? Detached, impassive, obedient. Gouken's perfect little disciple. His daddy's boy through and through."Do whatever you wish, then," Ryu says, shoulders straightening as he shifts his posture. He's kneeling upright on his knees as I finish binding his feet together, before I tug out the free ends of the obi so that I could tie them together. Plump round toes flex and crack as he settles down to sit on his heels into a formal sieza position when I finish.Perfect and proper, even now."I'll take whatever punishment you deal out, Ken," he continues. "If you think I will renege on this, you are wrong. I will be a warrior, and perhaps someday you'll be able to say the same."Turning away from Ryu for a moment, I pick up my cell phone and vape pen again. With my back turned toward him, I take another hit. The pungent earthiness of cannabis oil, laced with creamy coconut, bathes my palate as I drink it in deep.When I inhale as much as I can, my lungs go still as I hold my breath.For a moment that feels like an eternity I mull over his words, tempted by the offer to give him a couple more bruises. I'm not some fucking sadist, but I gotta admit... deep down I do want him to suffer, just a little. Break in his naive little mind thinking he's so fucking perfect. So untouchable.Ryu gives me a curious look, like he's wonder what I'm doing... or what I'm holding in my hand. Leaving my cell and vape pen on the floor I cup his cheeks, and Ryu's eyes widen as I lazily admire the darkening patches of skin around his cheek and forehead. He'd earned those bruises in our match, along with the ache in his side.So different from a girl... so many more angles and sharp contours.Hand drifting down his chin, my knuckle brushing along his collarbone, my fingertips run over the full, meaty curve of his pectoral. For a while my focus fixates on that plump arch of flesh, neurons singing the sweet song of THC.My fingers slide down further then, to the little hills and valleys of his ribcage and abdominals. He's so lean and hard compared to a soft, warm girl.So quiet. So stoic.A spike of frustration stabs through me as that thought runs its natural course. Most girls would be shivering by now. They'd be whimpering and hot, after weeks or months or years of envy over the others who'd been lucky enough to catch my eye. It'd be their friends. Their rivals. Their sisters or cousins. But then it'd be their turn, and their juices would be flowing, their hormones raging, at finally experiencing the privilege- the honor, of my touch.But Ryu... he just stares at me flat and unimpressed, cold as a statue.If he were a proper faggot he'd be moaning and shivering like those girls right now. If he were a real man he'd be disgusted, maybe a little frightened the way I'm caressing his front. But for Ryu, the body is a thing to be trained, not a thing for pleasure.I was wrong... he's not some passive statue. No, it's more like he's just enduring my touches. Like he's just putting up with the attention I'm so graciously giving him.Fine. I'll give Ryu what he expects. What he probably wants.In a sudden movement, I press a thumb firmly into that swollen patch of his ribs, where I'd pounded him in our battle. The flinch I earn from him is delicious. It's not the pain that excites me really, but... god it's nice to see his demeanor crumble, if at least only for a little.His breath comes out in a sharp but barely audible huff, and Ryu stiffens when I knead his bruising flesh. His stomach clenches, abdominal muscles taut and hard, rippling like ceramic tiles. I lean forward, laying my chin in the crook of his neck as I gently twist a knuckle in between his ribs again, and I feel Ryu's jaw clench against mine as he braces himself for the pain."Just kidding..." I finally exhale behind him and withdraw from his injured side. My breath comes out in fading curls of gray smoke.If Ryu's glowering, I can't tell. He'd schooled his features to stillness once again, though by the faint tremor running through him and the sweat beading on his brow, I know he's been shaken up."Don't worry, dude..." I chuckle, swiping through my phone for the right video. "Here. This is what I actually want you to do..."I lower the screen down to eye-level for him. Ryu blinks, and he begins to watch the recording a bro had taken, of me getting the most beautiful blowjob ever.For a moment Ryu just stares, as if dumbfounded by what he's seeing. Like the scene playing out before him is something so completely unreal he can't make sense of it. It takes a small eternity before Ryu's eyes widen: cheeks turning pink as the blood rushes to his face."K-Ken?" he stammers, looking up to me in fear. He turns his body slightly and leans away, as if scared of being face-to-face with real porn."Shhh... keep watching," I murmur. Gripping a fistful of his hair, I tug him back towards me and shove the screen back in his face. A wet slurping sound is coming from the video, in tandem with a series of grunty moans.My grunty moans."I- I don't think..." Ryu stutters, trying to pull away. He stops short when I tighten my hold and twist his hair."What?" I chuckle, "Just relax, dude... you'll get used to it..."Still holding the phone in my hand, I wrap my arm around his head and pull him forward, the meaty edge of my palm pressing into the back of his neck. He's still resisting, begging me to stop... Ryu's back is stiff and his shoulders are taut when I press his face into the meaty pouch of my crotch.His breath is hot and humid as he pants through the tight red cloth of my boxer-briefs. His skin is so warm, even through the thin layer of cotton. I can't help it, and I tilt my head back with a soft little moan as he huffs in response.When I withdraw my hand from the back of his neck Ryu doesn't try pulling away anymore. Holding the phone in front of him again, I let the hair slip from between my fingers, and cup the back of his head. He's still stiff, but at least he isn't trying to escape me now.My thumb slides along the touchscreen, rewinding the video back to a fresh starting point. The girl in the vid is nuzzling my crotch, basking in my soft plump nutsack and drawing her lips down the topside of my turgid cock."Kiss me down there, like she's doing, dude..." I tell him."I- I don't want to watch that...""Just do it like that. It's an order.""But-""You promised, dude. You promised to do everything I'd say. That you'd be my slave. If you were gonna puss out just because you got a little scared, you never should've agreed in the first place."That shuts him up. His eyes turn up to meet mine. They're big and watery... dark brown pools that've just grown wide with the realization of what it meant to honor his vow."Now go on. Kiss me down there."For a split-second Ryu hesitates. But soon his trembling lips press against me in a soft little peck against my twitching bulge. It's so tender, so chaste... the way you'd kiss an aunt's cheek... but despite that a giddy little thrill tingles up from my tailbone and along my spine... hot and electric."A little- little lower..." I murmur, straining to keep from sounding too eager. "R-right on that wet spot."Ever since I'd gotten Ryu on his knees I'd been getting nice and juicy, and this time he comes away with a faint thread of my precum clinging to his lower lip, like spidersilk. As if by reflex his tongue flicks over his mouth, tasting my arousal for the first time. The hesitation, the confusion that follows as he experiences the savory sweetness of my pleasure is painted clear across his face.I think the fag likes it.With my hands guiding him Ryu begins to pleasure me. He plants warm, open-mouthed kisses all over my package, suckling the head of my prick through the cotton. Now and again he lets out a whimper or grunt, and a spasm would shake him. He'd twitch as he pleases me closer and closer to the threshold. I can feel the precum puddling over my nutsack and filtering through my boxer-briefs. It's a thin little taste, but despite the tears beading in his eyes Ryu's getting into the rhythm of it as he sucks at my manhood... sipping my juices through the cloth like a newborn calf nursing for the first time."There you go..." I moan in satisfaction. "That's being a good sport now."My undies are soaked, the cloth at the front now a dark burgundy- stained with a cocktail of saliva and precum. Ryu's exhausted by now... and he lets out a quiet retch, letting a trail of saliva spill onto the floorboards. Still, it's only an appetizer for the load of cream I'm planning to pour down his throat."All... all right..." I pant. My thumb slips beneath the waistband of my pants. Pulling it down, my cock gives a bounce as it pops free from the elastic cloth that's been hugging me close. Ryu gasps and backs away, but he's too slow. The slimy tip of my cock grazes his cheek and slings a cord of glassy beads along his collarbone.I chuckle, running a thumb along that glistening patch just beneath his eye."Now... start sucking."Ryu's shoulders stiffen, and that dewy gaze of his as he turns up to face me almost makes me feel guilty about this. A small part of me thinks that maybe I should just jack off over his face instead. But honestly, after weeks of putting up with Gouken's shit and Ryu's insufferably clean-cut attitude, I think I've earned this.Gripping the back of his head with one hand and steadying the base of my cock with the other, I rub the underside of my dick over the bridge of his nose.Seven inches of smooth, alabaster maleness slide over his skin- hard as fuckin' diamonds right now. Its plump rosy head spills liquid gems from the tip and paints glossy streaks through Ryu's still-damp locks of dark hair. Those milky drops and silken cords of pre gleam like snail trails in the grass, or drops of morning dew.It's such a beautiful sight. Refreshing even. Ryu winces, as I let out a rattling moan and hump his face like a horny little animal.The cloth around his wrists creaks as he squirms. Ryu's nose scrunches up and he lets out a whimper. I'd rinsed off for the most part, but tonight I'd done a little less scrubbing than usual when it came to my naughty bits. I want him to breathe in my musk. Drink in the scent of another dude. Part of me wishes I could've done this right after our bout of sparring. Would've been kinda hot, knowing he's drinking in the tangy saltiness of my sweat.A flush crawls up my thighs, and my nuts pulse with an urgent and electric heat. Biting my lip, I clench my inner thighs until the sensation trickles away. Fuck I'd almost just jizzed all over his hair.And that's not where I'm planting my seed tonight.My foreskin's receded all the way, and the head of my cock is a glossy pink as I drag it down over his brow and down along his nose. The moment it touches his lips though, Ryu hisses and tries to pull back.I press my dick into his mouth."Hnngk!"It bumps against Ryu's teeth at first, and his lips are trembling even as they pucker around the pink head of my cock. But then I slip a thumb in past his incisors, and with a rocking motion I ease his jaw loose. Inch by inch my milk-white flesh slides into his mouth. A frightened little huff stirs against my skin. Tears bead up at the corners of his eyes. Soft gurgles bubble up from his throat as his lips graze against my milky shaft.I'm barely halfway in when I nudge up against the back of his throat.Ryu's eyes widen, and he pulls off violently with a gasp. Spitting on the floor, the last trailing spasms quiet down as he finishes gagging. Pulling him back up by the hair though, I pull him back into my crotch."S-stop..."My grip stiffens. I hold his head tight."Relax..." I tell him."K-Ken... Stop. Pl... please stop...""I said relax..."His pupils have shrunk back. His chest is puffing in and out with his rapid breaths. Dude's cheeks are pink, flushed with fear.Man... I love seeing that. I love seeing him scared."Theeeere we go..." I murmur in a slurred singsong, "You're ready noooow~"At first Ryu's jaw stiffens, and he lets out another gurgle as I slide back in. I hush him with each inch that slips past his lips, even stroke his hair a little. I whisper words of encouragement, and soon he begins to relax.My rhythm is slow at first, shallow. Blazed as I am, I've still got it together enough to know that he'd be lousy at giving head. Most girls who've gone down on their knees for me have at least gotten some advice on how to give a blowjob... usually through the grapevine of schoolyard gossip. The few who never talked about it with their girlfriends at least know a little from advice forums on the net.Ryu though was totally new to this.I mean granted, every virgin needed some training on pole polishing. Even the sluttier girls I've been with needed some edges smoothed out to get them onto my tempo. So even though he's slow on the uptake, I've had plenty of experience in training a new cocksucker."Nnnfh... shield your teeth with your lips man. This is one super bitey beej right now. Y-yeah... like that... little more tongue..."I'm hella blazed, and all these imperfections in his style, frustrating as they are, add to the experience. There's something so textured about it, so new, like I'm getting sucked off for the first time again.Ryu moves his head in hesitant bobs, but he's trying... he really is, but while most of my cock is warm and slick with his saliva now, he's a couple inches shy of taking it all in. Now and again he pulls off completely to catch his breath, but all I need to do is slap my cock against the side of his cheek a little, and he'll wince and go back down on me.It'll be a while yet before Ryu is really good at it, but after a while it's almost like I'm melting into the heat of his mouth. I'm lightheaded, swaying back and forth as my moans fill the air, cresting and falling like the tide. Crouching a bit, my hand drifts down, cupping the plane of his chest. It's so different from a girl, but there's a fullness here, a weight to that meaty pectoral that I'm starting to kinda like.My fingers come together, and with well-practiced grace I start to tease his nipple.Ryu doesn't react... not at first. But that tender little wedge of flesh, encircled with just a little soft fuzz like a newborn rabbit's coat, eases into my expert touch. I can hear it in Ryu's breathing... the shift in the way he huffs.He's liking it. The fucking queer.Ryu lets out a grunt when once again I slip a pair of fingers past his teeth. Planting my fingertips against his soft palate and my thumb against his upper molars, I add some pressure to keep his jaw from closing."Nnghk..." Ryu's eyes gaze up at me. There's something pleading in his look, as if he's saying that surely this must be enough. That I must be satisfied now..."Relax your throat..." I tell him.Gripping the back of his head, I buck my hips forward and force the last couple inches of my cock past his lips."GHHHK!"Ryu convulses as the head of my slips down the curve of his throat, his Adam's apple bulging and bobbing as he struggles to get his gagging under control. His jaw's clenching, teeth digging into the pad of my thumb, my fingers stiff and unyielding as they continue to press firmly into his soft palate like a clamp forcing his mouth open."I said relax your throat..." I hiss. It's hardly comfortable for me either, but it still feels so good to finally feel his lips moistening my pubes. "Come on, bro, keep- keep it under control..."For a while he puts up a fight as I rape his mouth. Ryu's eyes are bloodshot now, and he's spasming with hard retches. The sound of him choking rips through the air in ragged pulses. It's a struggle keeping him still, and curled over on him like this I can see his wrists twisting in their bonds, his feet spasming and toes scraping against the floorboards.Even though he's fresh out of the shower, a new sheen of cold sweat is beading on his shoulders and leaving his cheeks glossy. His eyes are misting over, and Ryu's starting to stare past me even as the tears crawl down his cheeks. He's no longer actively sucking me off... instead he's just slumped in front of me on his knees as I thrust into his mouth, again and again.Only the occasional spasm, followed by a deep, bass gurgle, tells me he's still with me. Saliva is pouring from his lips now, and cold droplets spray between us as my nuts slap against his chin.This whole time I'd been keeping it under control, tensing and damming up my flow and just riding the edge. But finally, when I feel the moment is right, I let the wave crash over me. Throwing my head back I let out a strangled, pitched cry."A-Ahhh! AAAAHH!"I clench from my taint to my asshole, my nuts practically bursting as they release their contents. Every ounce of my hot teen libido is screaming at me to spurt my jizz straight down his esophagus and into his body, but I knew how I wanted to cum from the start.Unsheathing my cock from Ryu's mouth with sloppy wet sound, I moan as I watch the first few spurts fountain over his tongue. Glossy white cords spread over warm pink flesh like milky syrup, my musk thick in his nostrils. Red-rimmed and puffy eyes widen, and his pupils shrink back. Ryu's first taste of a dude's jizz, the scent of it, is so rich and cloying that he gags immediately, tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth in a reflexive spasm.My cum floods from his lips and spills down his front in trailing white gems.Still gripping Ryu's hair with the other hand, I force his head back so his face his upturned, and aiming my dick downward I sigh and stroke myself off the rest of the way, releasing the rest of my pleasure onto his face.A soft, broken wail rings against the sound of my jizz spattering over his cheeks and forehead. I'm panting like a dog as I mark his cheeks, breaths matching the wet sloppy sound of my fist pumping away. The strength is draining from my body with each heavy splash. My legs are trembling in those little twitches like I'm finally taking a piss after holding it in for far too long. The latter half of my orgasm is more watery, and it pours down his face, streaming down his collarbone and over his rippling abs in trails of molten glass.Fuck... fuck that was good.I'm swaying on my feet, ready to pass out into the sheets. And honestly, if it weren't for Ryu kneeling in front of me I probably would. Instead I focus on standing upright, swaying as I try to keep my balance. I refuse to look weak in front of him, even now.He's just staring past me and trembling, as if now realizing what he's in for. His face is covered in tangled cords of thick white jizz, his front glazed with fat molten pearls and sheets of cum. I'd saved this load, just for him, for a few days now, on top of the fact that I can cum buckets when I'm high.The days and weeks ahead of us, if not months until Gouken comes back, are gonna be filled with nights like this.Cupping Ryu's cheeks, I smear my rich semen over his face. It's still warm to the touch, and as I paint every inch of his skin and work it into his hair, the heady stink of jizz thickens the air between us.It's sweet and musky. Like the smell of overripe fruit.Ryu's curled forward now... still gazing off into the distance and unresponsive. His eyes are red, and with how damp his cheeks are his tears vanish into the glossy smudges. His mouth's half-open as if in shock, a drop of our mingled juices budding on his lower lip.Patting one side of his cheek with sticky hand, I pull the towel off from around his shoulders. I grin down at him as I wipe my hands clean, my cock still dripping onto the floorboards between my bare feet."Mmmhhh... that was great, country boy. I think things are gonna get a lot more fun around here."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Masters Sr. - Three Months Ago
 
For a moment I tried to ignore the faint sting in my palm.

My fingers twitched as it lingered, a soft heat that served as a fresh reminder that I’d just crossed a threshold.  That this moment would be burned into both of our lives forever.

Ken had been caught off guard, and still remained in a half-sprawled crouch on the ground.  He was breathing heavily, eyes distant in shock as he lifted a hand to touch the mark on his cheek.  Crouched on the floor like that he looked more like a stray animal than my boy.  Like an alley cat wary of a stranger.

Slowly his eyes lifted to meet mine.  The pleading in his gaze was gone now, and I could tell he was gathering up the little scraps of outrage from amidst the fear, clumsily balling them up into what he’d hoped was enough courage to look me in the eye and say

“Wh- what the fuck?”

There was a whimper to it.  A cringing, pitched note of fear that spiderwebbed through his anger like a crack in a windshield.  Part of me wanted to hold back, to simply swallow my rage and shame and leave him here in the guest bedroom to sleep it off.  We could talk in the morning.  I’d have called his therapist to arrange a session.

But that would be an act of surrender.
I’d let my boy stew there in that holding cell, a taint on our household’s reputation.  Left him to sweat it out as we contacted all involved, with mild threats and implied promises in order to keep things quiet.  My social media consultants had been shifted from advertising and promotional work to keeping an eye on any rumors that might’ve leaked.  One stupid mistake from this brat, after years of misbehavior, and the dominos had finally fallen into a cascade of frantic activity to protect the Masters name.
Ken hadn’t given a thought to how hard everyone had been working behind the scenes to cover up his mistakes.  On the drive back home he’d sat there expressionless, in his tank top and shorts, arms crossed and brow furrowed as if he was the one who’d been aggrieved.  He sat with his legs splayed out in front of himself, feet bare and grubby because the police had dragged him out without letting him grab his flip flops.  He’d looked less like the heir to the Masters corporation, and more a beach bum.

The household staff were already searching through my son’s room.  Sifting through his phone and computer files.  I already knew that they would find something that I would never want to see as a father… evidence of mistakes that a young man would never recover from if it came out into the open.

And now that we were back home, now that this teenage brat had fucked in a troublesome mix of drugs and wild oats and teenage idiocy, I no longer had the luxury of spoiling him.

“Hold him down.”

Those brown eyes widened.  “Wh- what?!”

Sebastian and Mike moved forward.  Ken stumbled back, almost tripping onto the bed as my men grabbed at him.

“Fucking get off!  Nonono

stop

!  Get OFF!”

Ken thrashed about as my men worked to pin him.  Though he’d been trained to defend himself, he knew better than to attack the two.  Ex-military, the both of them, and well accustomed to being rough when necessary.

A cold chill ran along the back of my spine as I took off my belt.  There was a sharp familiarity to the clink of a metal buckle being undone.  The sound of leather sliding through belt loops was slightly different though… a smooth, deceptively soft whisk through fine Pima cotton compared to the coarse scrape of stout denim.  All of a sudden I was flung back thirty years to that old farmhouse, my jeans around my ankles, bent over the kitchen table.

Except now I was on the other end of things.

For a moment a tremor ran through my hand as I gripped the buckle and wrapped the length around my palm in a single loop.

I took a moment to breathe and steady myself, just long enough for my men to get a handle on the boy.  His tank top has been pulled up to his shoulders.  His shorts and underwear yanked down past his thighs.

“This has been long overdue, boy,” I said, almost apologetically.  I resented the fact that this had become necessary, but over the years I’d learned to appreciate how important a little tough love could be in shaping a boy into a man.  The moment I’d heard what he’d done I’d had every intention of taking things just far enough for him to absorb the lesson.  “If I’d taught you discipline sooner it wouldn’t have come to this.”

The belt cut through the air in a wide, trailing arc.  The crack of it landing against bare skin was sharp and sudden, leaving a faint ringing in the air like the pop of a firework, or a gunshot heralding the start of a race.

“F-FUCK!” Ken yowled, his voice ragged like the sound of canvas tearing.  His back arched, the fresh pink stripe across his skin undulating like a red snake as he writhed.

I’d tried to keep my anger cold.  Distilled.  Measured and rational.  A fair dose of punishment was warranted for the brat.

But the moment the first blow landed, I’d known that his pride ran deeper than bruises and welts could reach.

The ten strokes I’d planned on counting out became fifteen.  Then twenty.  And after that I’d stopped counting entirely.  The boy had yelped at first, wailing like a wounded animal as he thrashed and tried to yank himself free.  Sweaty fingers and toes clawed at the bedding, and at some point he’d started to gnaw at the sheets, biting down hard to quiet himself, as if refusing to give me the satisfaction of hearing him howl.

But the belt came down on him, over and over, painting his back in a crisscross pattern of welts.  His back and shoulders bloomed with pink lines.  His firm, clenched buttocks practically glowed with rosy streaks.  The backs of his thighs grew reddened with thin lines and red splotches where the capillaries beneath the skin were beginning to break.

I whipped the boy until my arm grew sore.  The joint of my shoulder ached, and my hand was swollen and spasmed with how tight I’d gripped the belt.  My anger was still blistering, and I simmered with frustration over my inability to punish him further.  For a moment I thought of switching to the other arm, when Ken shuddered violently.  A soft whimper came out of him, and like a puppet with its strings cut he finally went slack.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d pissed himself then and there.
It’d gone unnoticed in the heat of the beating as I’d layered one cut of the belt on another, but the dozens of blows had left him raw and wounded, and for a moment I felt my stomach drop at the thought I might have gone too far.  It didn’t take long to shake that thought off however.  Despite Ken being pampered growing up in the city he had inherited some of that country boy stubbornness from me.  A few licks of the strap one night wouldn’t cure him.  
And so I left him, naked and beaten half-conscious in the guest bedroom.

The next two weeks I’d planned out regular sessions with his therapist, as well as some time with his gym trainer and martial arts instructor.  California living hadn’t sunk its hooks in me completely, but a man doesn’t become the CEO and President of a major company in America without balancing responsibility and duty with a concern for “wellness” these days.

Dr. Anderson was a good, Christian friend, and I trusted his professionalism.  Ken didn’t like him much however, so between hour-long sessions in the morning and evening, I’d decided to pad out the middle of his day with something he’d enjoyed.  His regular gym schedule had filled out the boy physically, while Karate and MMA helped channel his energy.  And while I couldn’t openly condone his little delinquent fight club, a part of me had to admit that there was a little grit in the boy at least.  His grades had even improved once he started training in fifth grade.  It was like tiring out a puppy with a long walk, to ensure they’re more obedient and manageable at home.

I know there are people out there who think that what happened next was tantamount to abuse.  Those people have never had to discipline my son.  They haven’t the damndest clue of how I’d genuinely tried to fix him with a gentle hand, and he’d slapped it away.  Just remember that when I say what happened next drove me to my final resort before I’d consider disinheriting the brat.

Because the boy had fucking run away from home.

The security cameras had caught him slipping off of his bedroom balcony that night in his street clothes and favorite burgundy hoodie, his shoes tied together at the laces and hanging from his neck.  Nimble as a monkey, he’d climbed down a support beam and landed barefoot on the concrete, before racing past the perimeter of the manor.

For three goddamn days I had no clue where Ken was.  Whether he was sleeping on his friends’ couches or on a fucking park bench.  Whether he was huffing fumes out of a paper bag or otherwise getting himself into trouble with something that would require yet another coverup.

As expected when we dragged his little ass back the boy had been vaping again.  Red-eyed and irritable, it’d taken another day for him to sober up.  And even then he’d refused to speak with Dr. Anderson, and in his gym and sparring sessions he’d been getting lax and fumbling.

I knew then that Ken needed a tougher hand than I could give.  He needed to relearn things from the ground up, and that meant a regular dose of discipline.

If the boy were a few years younger I could’ve sent him to one of those offshore reform camps for troubled teens.  Money certainly wasn’t an issue.  Yet the boy needed treatment even stricter than that.  More importantly, he needed to be kept far away from social media and other boys his age who could enable or further corrupt him.

I needed to send him to someone who could break him of his defiant attitude.

The arrangements would be made by the end of the week, and Ken would be led to my office… wrists and ankles still encircled with the faded yellow of half-healed bruises from how he’d been pinned down, his rump no longer so tender that he’d wince just from trying to sit.  But still he put on a sullen face, refused to look me in the eye not out of fear, but disdain and a refusal to show any repentance.

And then I would tell him how his life was about to change completely.
~~~~~
Masters Sr. - Now
         I tug my tie at the wedge, just enough so it hangs down about an inch looser than it should.  As one of the magnates of the modern fashion industry it’s crucial to know how to dress for the occasion.  It was a lesson I hadn’t learned when I was younger and more foolish.Back then, I’d believed it was best to look your best and sharpest at all times.  This philosophy had worked well for me in my youth.  It’d been what the business world expected at time, but I’d also needed to prove myself among others in the predatory jungle that was the L.A. fashion scene.  I could only tighten up my southern drawl so far before my accent started to sound feigned, and knowing how to look my best had been necessary to compensate.  Hide the farmboy who’d made it to the big city. And so when I’d visited Gouken’s dojo while touring the more rustic areas of Japan, I’d only brought the best suits with me for my daily wear, each set five grand worth of professionally tailored cashmere and silk.The sensei hadn’t been impressed in the least.  On the contrary, he’d seen past my carefully cultivated exterior and recognized me for what I truly was:  a young upstart who’d rocketed to success, who had yet to acquire the wisdom and foresight necessary for further growth.And so I sit here in this modest inn, dressed down to something more casual.  A dress shirt and tie, a nondescript jacket, and a pair of slacks I would’ve worn casually around the manor.  An outfit I’d hoped was something more earnest.  More humble.After all, I knew for a fact that Gouken is a master at humbling arrogant young men.My hand pauses as a cold, determined fury wells up in me once again, at the thought of my son.It’s natural for a young man to have a rebellious streak.  I understand that well enough.  But I hadn’t realized how truly aggravating it would be to deal with as an actual father.It’d started with Ken testing boundaries at age eight, when he’d grown annoyed at me over some stupid little thing children fret over during a fitting at one of our departments.  The boy kept kicking off his shoes every time we tried to get him to try a pair.  Then at age twelve he’d started to dress like a slob… tank tops and shorts and flip flops.  At first he’d grudgingly change into something more appropriate when we had guests over, but over time he’d start to roll his eyes and refuse.  And when I’d caught him vaping when he was fourteen, well… even then I’d just confiscated the gear, had the house staff keep a closer eye on him, and set up a smoke detector in his room.  But I’d underestimated his determination to go against me, as well as his ability to follow a technical tutorial online on how to disable smoke alarms without triggering anything.Yet for the past few years he seemed to have become more manageable.  Mellowed out, I’d thought.  He’d taken up an interest in fitness and martial arts like many young men his age, and I’d even arranged a sportswear modeling position for the boy to get him more invested in the company.  True, he still paid me not an ounce of respect as his father, but things had at least been somewhat peaceful on the surface.In truth, I’d completely underestimated the crowd he’d been running with, or how fucking reckless and entitled he’d become.Back on the ranch you could see how beautiful a stallion could be.  That primal, stubborn energy… as if he was his own creature.  A horse has a streak of independence and wild power that stirs something in a man.  Admiration.  Even perhaps a little envy.  But deep down any farmhand knows that a colt needs to be broken for its own good.That night, I knew that I’d coddled Ken for far too long by sparing the rod.  I should’ve disciplined him properly the moment he showed a whisper of defiance.  Even when I told him he’d be sent to live in Japan off-grid until I could clean up his mess he refused to show even a hint of remorse.  Just shock, indignation, and resentment. I start to feel the pulse in my temples, the heat and pressure building just behind my eyes.  That boy has given me enough headaches that I can feel the subtle signs of one starting to encroach.  I immediately sit up straight, taking in a deep breath and imagine myself dialing back the heat of my anger and focus on my breathing.  My cardiologist has been noting my blood pressure has been getting awfully high for the past few years, and I’m still just shy of needing to be put on medication to control it.I’m just starting to pour out a cup of tea for myself to calm down when I hear soft yet heavy footsteps approaching from down the hall.Gouken enters, sliding the screen door behind him before he settles himself onto the cushion.  The man is imposing with his build… tall and broad-shouldered, his frame layered with muscle from a lifetime of training.  His dark beard is splashed with gray, and his long hair is tied back into a simple ponytail.  The yukata he wears had been neatly pressed and is of a simple, old-fashioned pattern of light blue and gray.  I respectfully pour him a cup of tea.“Thank you for making the time to see me, old friend,” I say as he settles in.“You should have joined me.  The baths here are quite fine.”“Next time, perhaps.”Gouken chuckles, “Businessmen truly have little time for themselves, it seems.”Over the years I’d had to learn that the Japanese can be quite indirect.  I wonder if his words had been meant to be a gentle criticism.  Little time for the niceties, or for raising my son properly to the point that I’d had to leave the boy in Gouken’s care.I bow my head in an attempt to seem apologetic.  “Many heavy duties, I’m afraid.  Life in corporate America does have a way of… falling out of balance.”The martial artist grunts in acknowledgement as he sips his tea.“And how have your travels been?  It must’ve been a long time since you last left the dojo.”“About ten years.  Life in the country runs at a slower pace, and I have few needs.  Though taking Ryu into my care has also tied me down somewhat.”“He seems like a fine young man.”Gouken pauses a moment, but nods.  “The boy is disciplined, and he is close to becoming a true warrior.  But the lad has few friends in the village.  Most of the youths his age prefer the prospects of the city.”“And Ryu doesn’t?”Another pause, as if Gouken were mulling over what and how much to say.  “The boy is… content with his life in the dojo.  Perhaps to the point of having become complacent.  I’m afraid all he focuses on is his training.  A disciple should be studious, but the boy cannot grow further if he spends his entire life in one small corner of the world.”“If only that were the problem I had to deal with. Some boys are too adventurous,” I snort.  I doubt Gouken’s lad would ever need to be forced to piss into a cup for a drug test or have his computer scoured for illicit videos he’d taken.Just then the door slides open, and the inn’s staff enter on soft, slippered feet to place our starters before us… assorted sashimi, braised lotus root topped with sprouts, and miso soup with fresh crab.  The server pours us each some hot sake , leaving the bottle for us before he leaves with the usual little pleasantries and well-wishes to enjoy our meal.“In a way your son has been a breath of fresh air,” Gouken notes as he picks up his chopsticks.  Those thick, callused hands are more like the paws of a gorilla, but he picks up a slice of raw yellowtail with a practiced delicacy.  “A little disruption has been very educational for Ryu.”“I can’t imagine Ken being ‘a little’ disruption,” I grumble.  When he first hit his teens I’d expected at worst for him to be as pampered and entitled as so many others in his generation.  But I’d never expected my boy to have become such a goddamn delinquent.  I learned far too late that ever since middle school Ken had been sneaking out at night for his little fight clubs.  Martial arts had been an attempt to teach him how to be a man… teach him some discipline and keep him from turning out to be some whiny little queer when he started to grow his hair out.  Yet the boy seems to want nothing but to extract all the wrong lessons out of life.I’d entrusted Gouken with the brat because I knew he wouldn’t put up with any of that nonsense.  The man was old-fashioned, untouched by the more libertine approaches of raising a child in America these days.  He knew that sometimes a solid beating was the answer, and if he needed to hang a boy by the wrists or bloody him up a little to keep him in line, so be it.  A black eye and a few bruises would do Ken some good.  Hell, after everyone from his handlers to his teachers to his therapist treated him with kid gloves, I’d given permission for Gouken to whip him raw if needed..“How has he been?” I ask.“Stubborn,” Gouken admits, and I find myself taking a deep swallow of the sake .  It’s a decent enough quality that I should be taking the time to enjoy the aroma, but I down it in one swallow the way I might toss back a shot of bourbon.  A mistake on my part, as the vapors of the hot sake fill my sinuses and I need to hold myself from coughing.“The boy seemed to be under the impression that he was in exile, and didn’t see the need for training.  I’ll admit I thought you’d exaggerated when you described him, but Ken truly has no respect for his betters.”“They do seem to be getting worse with each generation,” I try to hide my cough, as if I were clearing my throat.  Between social media, streaming services, and easy access to narcotics, youths were spoiled with distractions and drew guidance from the worst sources.  I hold my tongue however… Gouken can’t possibly know about the absurd precautions I’d had the household staff take.  I doubted Ken would try chewing detergent pods or start flinging boiling water around, but I’d also learned that it was dangerous to underestimate the stupidity of a teen with access to the internet.Besides, what he’d done had caused enough damage already.“You’re certain Ryu can handle him, though?” I ask as Gouken takes a bite into a piece of braised lotus root.“Say what you truly mean,” Gouken counters without skipping a beat.  “You’re concerned that in leaving him behind for this pilgrimage I’ve left him to cause trouble.”“I don’t doubt your ward is trustworthy.  He seemed to be a very polite and disciplined young man.  But Ken… the boy is selfish and feral as a barn cat.  I'm… concerned as to his behavior.”“True, Ryu cannot control the boy, but my disciple will keep an eye on him. Besides, a wild young man like your son will only learn discipline on his own.  A little breathing room away from his fear of the belt will do him some good.  There’s only so much he can do now that he’s settled down in the dojo.”I pour another cup of hot sake, the steam and alcoholic vapor curling up from the rim in pale wisps.  True, the dojo was an hour down the mountains from the village by foot, and even then it was remote.What trouble could the boy get up to?~~~~~
Ryu
I wake up in the morning with my skin pebbled from the cold.  A damp towel lies loosely draped around my naked waist, a faint smell of mildew and damp wood lingers in my nostrils.Though there’d been a bit of early autumn heat last evening, a chill had settled in as the night deepened.  It’d been an uncomfortable, fitful experience, having fallen asleep on the bathroom floor.  My torso is still mottled with the bruises I’d taken in yesterday’s sparring match, but while my right side remains cold and clammy, heavy with aches from having laid on the bare wooden floorboards, my left side still has a sluggish, liquid throb from when Ken had hammered me in the ribs.I have to knead the sensation back into my right arm, and I turn my head back and forth, feeling my vertebrae pop as they work back into alignment.  I’m disoriented at first… confused and deeply unsettled as to how I’d gotten here, and why I’m naked, and why there are faint bruises around my wrists.The grogginess starts to fade then, and my head starts to clear.Ken had tied me hand and foot.  Pushed my face into his crotch.  He’d forced me to lick his manhood.Ken had been soft… almost nurturing at first when he put my mouth around it, so that I could suckle like a pup nursing for milk.  His ivory length was turgid, the core of his shaft rock-hard, the skin of his penis silky and almost sweet beneath the faint whiff of sweat.  The slimy bead of liquid at the tip dragged over my tongue, like a long lick of liquid glass.But then he’d forced my jaw open, pushed in deep.  The meaty, bulbous head of his cock hit the back of my throat.  My stomach lurched, throwing me forward and I’d started to gag.  My wrists twisted in their bonds as the panic surged in me.  For an instant I’d thought of biting down on him, but even as I teared up, even as I fought down the urge to vomit, even as I started to choke and struggle with each breath I knew I needed to stay strong and endure.There was a musk to him, a raw and sweaty humidity to his scent that made me think of a wild animal.  I could barely understand what was happening to me, but the smell of his crotch stirred something: an old, primal feeling… an echo of a sensation my body had long been expecting.  My heart raced as an internal battle waged inside me: I wanted to do nothing more than to free myself from Ken’s grip, but another, more confusing part was frozen in place, locked into enduring the assault.When I felt the first salty splashes on my tongue I thought Ken had just pissed in my mouth.  But it had a familiar briny scent to it, like the beach at low tide.  And it wasn’t watery at all… the stuff he’d spurted into my mouth tangled over my tongue in slimy cords, like overcooked seaweed in miso soup.  I gasped as the splashes came again and again:  some into my mouth as if to make me taste more, but now over my cheeks and hair, the salty tang stinging my eyes."Mmmhhh... that was great, country boy…” he’d said in a mushy slur, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet like he was drunk.  “I think things are gonna get a lot more fun around here..."All the energy seemed to drain from Ken then, and he leaned over me, his skin flushed and pink and damp with fresh sweat.  I felt him tugging at the belt he’d tied around my wrists, just enough to loosen them up so I could free myself.  My fingers felt nerveless and fumbled at the knots, and at first it felt like I was blindly picking at a loose stitch.  By the time I’d gotten free and unbound my ankles Ken was lying back on the bed, idly pleasuring himself with one hand as he drifted off to sleep.I’d tried wiping my face with the small towel he’d dropped on the ground.  Given that Ken had just used that to clean his hands, all I’d been able to do was smear his juicy musk around my face.I stumbled to the bathroom to wash myself off again.The time I spent cleaning up is still a blur… a tangled mess of confusion and shock, of clutching the sink with mineral-heavy water pouring from my lips.  I’d been trying to rinse the taste of him out of my mouth, and I’d crouched over the drain trying to clean myself off.  The wood-fired stove we used to heat water had gone cold, and the remaining bathwater in the soaking tub had gone somewhat tepid, but it was still warm enough to not leave me shivering as I cleared most of Ken’s stink off of me.But even after soaping up and upending a couple of buckets over water over my head, the musky, briny scent of him still lingered in my nostrils.For a long time I crouched in front of the sink with a towel wrapped around my waist, letting my body air-dry as I sat in a numb trance.  It was well into the night by now, in the small hours of the morning.  I’d turned the bathroom light off and was simply staring at the floor beneath my feet.  Even though I knew I would be more comfortable in bed, curled under a real blanket, the last thing I wanted was to be in the same room as Ken.I sit up now, rubbing the last traces of sleep from my eyes, blinking at the morning light filtering through the paper screen windows.  The world seems out of alignment… not quite real, but the soreness and lingering headache remind me that I’m dreadfully awake and I need to prepare breakfast before our morning training.  I still feel unclean, my skin clammy and my hair unkempt, but routine and responsibility call me to my feet and pull on some pants at least.I move slowly this morning, and have a hard time focusing as my body goes through the motions.  Yet soon enough I find myself standing in the kitchen, two portions of rice soaking in the ceramic cookpot.Knife in hand, I stare down at the mackerel on the cutting board.  We’d bought it two days before from the fishing boat, and Mr. Fujita had already bled and gutted it for us.  I’d rinsed it again with a splash of sake .  Normally I would salt and grill the thing whole with a brush of miso paste, but the first time I’d prepared breakfast for Ken he’d paused at the sight of a fish with the head still on.  It’d taken him a bit to learn how to pluck the flesh clean from the bones with any sort of grace, but to make his meals a bit easier I’d started to debone and filet the fish.It stares back up at me with a glassy eye.  The blue and black stripes along its back resemble purpling bruises along a ribcage.I’m just about to slide the knife along the dorsal ridge and separate the filet from the bones when I hear the creak of floorboards, and the soft padding of bare feet as Ken sidles into the kitchen.  He’s in the skin-tight red shorts he sleeps in, and his mouth opens in a loud yawn.The hairs on the back of my neck prickle.  A cold shudder runs up along my spine as he approaches and wraps one arm around me.  When we first started training I’d grown used to the press of his bare skin against my own.  His touch was milky and cool against my body, but he warmed up quickly especially during practice.  Whether it was during our stretching exercises or sleeping side by side, I’d started to find comfort in feeling him press against me now and again.This morning however my body stiffens, and my mind goes blank as his breath tickles my ear.“Morning,” he practically purrs like a tomcat.“M-morning…” My tongue feels thick in my mouth, and my words come out in something like a hiccup.  I force myself to swallow back the lingering memory of something thick and salty on my tongue.He lingers there a moment, as if mulling something over a question in his mind.  All of a sudden he pulls away, his body heat lingering on my naked skin.“Can’t we do something like… bacon and eggs someday?” he says, nose wrinkling.For a moment I stand there, confused by Ken backing off so quickly.  I’d expected him to be more… more of a bully, I suppose.  “I’m… not sure I know how to make a Western breakfast.”  Everything about this moment seems out-of-balance, as if it were a dream.  Or maybe last night had been the dream… and I find myself clinging to the relief of thinking it never happened.  The gears turn in my head freely, driving nothing forward, but in the face of Ken’s casual demeanor my mind drifts to the conversation I’d much rather be having.“We could… we could perhaps do a miso-glazed pork belly and… tamago-kake gohan… ?”“That’s not the same thing at all,” Ken grumbles, scrubbing his hand through my hair the way he would a child.  Or perhaps how one would pet a dog.  My fingers tighten around the handle of the knife at that, and for a moment the thought of turning around and using the pointed end of that blade flashes through my mind.As if sensing that sudden spike of annoyance, Ken pulls away again, stepping back and crossing his arms in front of himself.  His expression flattens, that mischievous grin vanishes as if it’d never been there.  “Well, whatever.  I guess it’ll still be nice to have something different.”I turn away from him and pin my gaze down to the cutting board again, swallowing back at the nausea twisting in my stomach.  Something about our dynamic had changed.  Something had left its mark in me and I wasn’t sure how to move forward with this moment, much less the rest of the day.My fingers are stiff and my grip awkward as I slowly, gently, cut into the mackerel, forcing myself to some semblance of my morning routine.  After breakfast we would have our morning meditation session where I could clear my head and try to settle my nerves.But trying to forget about what had happened would leave me unprepared for what Ken would do tonight… or for every night thereafter in the weeks to come.