Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2012 09:50:15 -0800 (PST)
From: Tom <glassnegman@yahoo.com>
Subject: Tales of an American Geisha-Slave-Boi - Part 2  (gay/adult-youth)

Tales of an American Geisha-Slave-Boi

Disclaimer

Copyright, 2012, Patricia Steel (glassnegman@yahoo.com)

Do whatever you want with this story, only keep my name attached, please.
Please report any and all orgasms arrived at through reading and
masturbating to these words.  I love knowing that I am deliberately
manipulating your mind into an erotic state.  Thanks, and Enjoy.


Chapter 2

But that night had long since faded into distant memory... my time with my
Lord (My term of endearment for him was Yashi -- a demon of sorts, which
he seemed to enjoy. -- At least it brought a smile to his beautiful
lips.) passed in what I considered "dream-time" a lifetime could pass in a
single night of agony, or bliss. -- or so it seemed to me.

His home, where he installed me -- I can't really say I was "invited to
live there" really -- I didn't seem to have a choice in the greater
scheme of my Lord Yashi's plans, was a beautiful property that once was a
feudal castle, when Kyto was the seat of the Japanese Empire.  The castle
itself was a dangerous ruin, and was mostly dismantled, and used as
building materials for the new buildings that comprised my Lord's home.

The main house, where I was installed, also had his own bedroom, and the
bedrooms of his wife, and children.  His Mother had her own residence to
herself, within the group of buildings.  There were two buildings that I
was firmly told by my Lord's personal servants "Never to approach, for fear
of my own life."

I never presumed to ask Lord Yashi about his wife, or his relationship with
her.  She, and I had separate duties, it seemed, but they were never to
interfere with those of each other, and we were not expected to meet, or
speak to one another at any time, even though our chambers were simply
across the large hallway from each other.  And, aside from my door having a
conventional "western" swinging wooden door, most of the house had sliding
paper and frame traditional Japanese-style doors.  Not very good at keeping
secrets in, or out.  I never even learned her name.  She was always merely
She, or Her, or His Wife...  funny, that, after these years, or what seem
like years...

I came to Japan on a Tourist's Visa right out of college with an
associate's degree in Business.  My sister had married a Japanese boy, back
in NYC, and I learned enough Japanese from him to be fluent.  Armed with
that, and my 2 year business degree, I thought I would take Tokyo by storm,
find a job that paid six figures, at least, in USD$$ and live in beautiful,
cultured, clean, Japan...  Away from the dirt and ugliness of the cities of
Columbus, Ohio, and NYC, which were the only places I had ever been in my
young life.

Well, suffice it to say, that didn't quite work the way I envisioned it.
After 2 weeks in Tokyo, all my savings were gone, and I found myself doing
a "favor" for a "friend" in exchange for $6,000 -- or enough money to
keep me in Tokyo for another month, maybe.  This favor entailed taking a
little holiday to Bangkok for a weekend of fun, and then returning with
something for my friend.  I was told that even "I" wouldn't know where this
"something" was... it would be hidden so well, and that was for my own
protection.

I got off the plane at Bangkok, and it was first class treatment, all the
way.  I was met by a uniformed driver of an old, but beautiful Mercedes,
and driven to a dated, but classy hotel -- I imagined it was something
special in the days when Thailand was "Siam" and the King was a "god"...  I
walked on nothing but red carpet up to my room, and in a few minutes, my
"friend" appeared, along with a complete "party entourage"... a few drinks,
and well... I don't remember anything until Monday morning, when the same
driver appeared in my room, clearing his voice, in order to wake me.  I was
on the bed, naked, there was blood everywhere, and, when I tried to move,
my ass told me that at least part of that blood was mine.  My cock hurt, my
ass hurt.  We won't go on about anything above the waist, because by
comparison, it was infinitesimal.

An hour, 10 cigarettes, a shower, and at least a quart of coffee later, and
I was "kinda" ready to depart.  My faithful driver had gathered and packed
my things.  God, I loved this man, naked, he ignored my state... dressed,
he smiled and treated me like royalty.  He even brought me a pillow to sit
on, and gave it to me to take on the plane.

I was in too much pain to really care about whatever it was I was carrying
across into Tokyo at this point.  Honestly, whatever it was, I hoped it
brought the death penalty, if I got caught.  I went through customs,
honestly expecting them to find shit in my overnight bag, which they did
not, but in processing my passport, they "flagged" me just as a "test case"
I was told, because I had been to Thailand for such a short visit, and, if
I wouldn't mind (not that it would go differently if I did) the Government
of the Emperor of Japan should like me to assist them in their attempts to
regulate illegal drugs coming into the country from Thailand.

Of course, I went with the white-gloved, black-uniformed officers.  First,
there was a simple X-Ray, which did not clear me of suspicion, it seemed.
Then I was asked if I would submit right there to an internal probe of
lower body cavities, and told that it would be best for everyone involved,
and would speed my processing if I would do so.  Of course, I complied.  I
then learned why there was sooo much blood on the bedsheets...  when the
officer first found the end of whatever it was that was up my ass, it was
attached to more, and still more of the same sort of nitryl bag, each
containing 250 grams of cocaine.  The total number of bags... 100.  --25
kilos of the stuff...  50 lbs...  crammed up my ass, into all 3 of my large
intestines...  When the officer was finished, although I could see my life
"in deep shit" -- pun fully intended, I could not stop thanking him for
relieving me of the pain I had been in.

Within the hour, I was in Tokyo City, Center Detention Facility, in a
medical cell, feeling better than I had all day, and sleeping the sleep of
the medicated.  "Mista Ceffalo" a Japanese Voice insisted..."MISTA
CEFFAALO", and I opened my eyes to the most beautiful man I had ever, or
would ever see... He who would become My Lord and Master.  The voice,
however, was not his... nothing so insisting or annoying would ever pass
his lips... no, if My Lord Yashi had wanted my attention that day, he would
have cracked his cane across my back.

Although I was barely aware of the man standing next to my Lord (yes
already I was thinking to myself, "I would follow you anywhere, and do
anything you bid me to do, Master"), he made himself known again, "Mista
Ceffalo, My client wishes to make you a very reasonable offer for something
you have."  Slowly, my eyes left those of the towering beauty whose head
was poised directly above mine, giving me a "poor thing" kinda stare, and I
looked with confusion on the small, rotund man, who was evidently the
attourney for this prince, or god, or whatever he was. I began, "Pardon me,
gentlemen, but I'm afraid you have been misled, I have absolutely nothing
in this entire world.  Not even enough money to get home to America, but I
think your Emperor is going to foot the bill for that one, because I think
I'm being deported."

It was then that my Lord first spoke to me.  "Let's get you out of here,
first, and into some more comfortable accomodations."  At that he took his
large right hand, and tossed my hair, making it stay back out of my eyes.
"There, that's better.. You have beautiful eyes, Mr. Ceffalo, and it is the
weakness of my race to be infatuated with hair such as yours."  He ran his
hand through my dirty-blonde hair once more, smiling a genuine smile this
time.  "Mr. Ichinosi, please deal with matters here, I'll be taking
Mr. Ceffalo with me."  and that was that... no room for discussion, no
wheelchair, no police to stop him from taking me, he just scooped me up in
his massively strong arms, and all I could do was wrap my arms around his
neck, and enjoy the ride... pretty much what I've been doing ever since.

He laid me in the backseat of his Limo, and he sat opposed, facing the
rear.  He spoke a few soft words to his driver, and I wondered for an
instant if his driver was as nice as mine was.  The driver made a few phone
calls, and we were on our way. We stopped in front of a grande old hotel in
the older part of Tokyo, and I was thinking, "Oh, no, not THIS AGAIN".. but
this hotel was still at 5 stars... she never lost a single one...  My Lord
and Master gathered me up, and carried me inside to the elevator, where his
driver turned the key to go past the 24th floor.  The top 3 floors belonged
to My Lord.

The Elevator opened to a beautiful display of Samurai Armor and Swords, and
that is forever how I would think of My Master... a Samurai Lord.  At a
whisper, his driver ran ahead, and turned down the bed in one of the three
bedrooms.  At another, he went into the master bath, and ran a warm, not
hot bath, for me.  My Lord lay me down on the dressing couch, and without a
word, or any resistance from me, disrobed me completely, then carried me
into the bath, depositing me in it so gently, that I never felt the bottom
of the tub.  "Lay back, Mr. Ceffalo, and relax, I have a physician on the
way, and Mr. Ichinosi will be here soon with the medical information from
your little holiday's eventful return.  I will spare no expense on your
comfort or care, at least for the time being.  We can talk of other things
once you are, returned to your sovereign self again, shall we say,
Mr. Ceffalo?  In the meantime, may I get you something to drink?  You
probably shouldn't eat for now, anyway."

I was totally hypnotized by his deep and mellow voice.  He appeared to be
just another Asian kid, maybe 20 or so, dressed in the best suit his
daddy's money could buy, but I knew that wasn't right... This was a real
man standing here in the bathroom with me.  This wasn't his daddy's
penthouse, it was HIS...  All of this running through my mind, made a
noticeable delay before I even began to think of an answer to his question,
which made me seem stupid, no doubt..

"Are you alright, Mr. Ceffalo?"

"Y-y-y-es, Sir, well, no, but, yes, could I have a diet coke?"

He smiled -- almost laughed. He walked over to me in the tub, and once
again, ran his fingers through my dirty blonde hair.  "Yes, you're going to
be all right, Mr. Ceffalo.  I'll get you that diet coke, or send Tak out
for some if we're out." -- and before I could interrupt that thought, of
sending poor Tak out again, he was gone.

To Be Continued

End Part 2