[In the traditional Chinese nighttime floating world of courtesan sensual pleasures, a prostitute who was deemed to be more than perfect was known as a unicorn, a mystical being, to be sought out and engaged at a high price. During the communist revolution in Russia, the royalists, known as White Russians, had two choices: flee or die. Many of them fled into China, to Manchuria, in the northeast. To the Chinese, the White Russians were exotic. The Chinese treasured small persons with pale skin. Many of the White Russians not only had this, but were beautiful and had platinum blond hair as well. So many arrived in China with so little, though, that what was most readily available to them to be able to survive was to serve sexual fetish and sell their bodies. The most beautiful of them, whether female or male, were known as unicorns. The Yury of this story is a unicorn.]
Grasping the eighteen-year-old White Russian’s hips, the Manchurian Master, wrapped in a voluminous scarlet silk robe, sitting cross-legged on the platform bed in his Harbin, China, sleeping pavilion, pulled the naked young man’s buttocks up into his lap. Yury’s wrists were tied together by a scarlet scarf and streamed above his head. His legs were bent, his feet flat on the silk quilt on either side of the Chinese warlord’s hips. Half drugged, the perfectly formed, white blond, alabaster-skin young man was lethargic in acceptance and resignation. His eyes were slitted, his lips parted, and his tongue flicked against his plump lower lip. The foreign youth, a ripe peach in the floating world of Chinese prostitution, sighed and arched his back as the Manchurian Master’s long, manicured fingers glided up his torso, paused at the young man’s nipples to stroke them, and then slowly descended, fingers splayed over the creamy-white body, savoring the supple, yielding flesh of the young man.
Yury’s eyes opened wide and he gave a low groan as the Master produced a spiral-ribbed thick white-jade dildo from inside the folds of his robe and started working it into the young man’s channel, stretching and opening him, as he stroked the youth’s pert cock with his other hand.
“Da, da–Shi, shi–Yes, yes,” the young man murmured in both Russian and Mandarin to please the man’s lust. Completely aside from any physical pain or mental anguish it caused him, his sheer survival relied on pleasing the men here in China. Using the leverage of his feet, Yury raised his pelvis higher and spread his thighs wider to acknowledge his acceptance of the invading shaft. There was no question that he would take the jade shaft. He worked on shooting his load, which he knew would please the man. He jerked and came and the man sighed in approval. Yury controlled it as he could. He knew another coming would be needed from him. Yury had learned that most men were most impressed when they and he came close together.
Although a captive, Yury was not an unwilling one. He was a realist. He had suffered much to get here from Moscow, and he chose life for whatever it took to maintain it.
The Russian royalists, termed the White Russians, had been flooding into northeast China, coalescing in the city of Harbin, since 1900 in what was, first, a migration from threats and, more recently, an escape from death dispensed by the eventually-successful Bolshevik Revolution of the Red Russians. By 1920 the White Russians were a dominating force in Harbin and the Chinese government had responded by disenfranchising them. Yury, like all other White Russians in Manchuria, had become a nonperson at eighteen, left to his own devises to survive or not. Already prostituting himself to men and getting some enjoyment out of doing so and having discovered that men called him a unicorn, something very special in the world of courtesans, Yury had sold himself to a specialized auction house.
At great cost, The Manchurian Master, a powerful warlord in the region, had won a bid on using the young man for the current week, which was coming to an end, prompting the man to work hard at a satisfying climax. Yury actually preferred going with Chinese men like this over other White Russians. The Chinese masters were sophisticated and generally used finesse and were inventive in their sexual technique, taking their time and bringing the male prostitute along with them to the land of pleasure. White Russian men who covered other men who were selling their bodies tended to be brutal, crude, and concerned only in getting themselves off quickly. They knew what it was like to lose wealth and position in a single, quick stroke, so they took their pleasures fast and hard and with regard only for themselves, while they could.
The Chinese men were impressed with young, blond, Caucasian men. White Russians weren’t. To them a lay was lay. Chinese men explored and prepared with their hands on the pale bodies of White Russian blonds. White Russians fucked. Chinese men sought out and savored what they called unicorns. White Russians had no understanding or appreciation for that concept.
The Master moved the jade phallus faster, deeply, as the young man writhed astride his lap, panting and moaning and using the leverage of his feet pressed into the quilt beside the Master’s hips to raise and lower his pelvis, moving with the spiraled phallus, fucking himself on the jade shaft. The Master was manipulating the phallus with an understanding of how to bring pleasure to the young man–not just to dominate him. But it was, in fact, about domination, stretching, and teasing the edges. Yury shuddered as the jade dildo worked him. It stretched him and caused his channel muscles to clutch and ripple and Yury to writhe and jerk within the Chinese master’s embrace. His moans were natural and involuntary. Yury was not pretending to enjoy being dominated; he was rising up the levels of sexual fulfillment.
Chinese men such as this one realized that in order to attain sexual perfection and ride on the clouds themselves, they had to bring their partner with them. Doing so didn’t make them any less dominate, though. Yury wasn’t just his conquest for the moment; the young man was his sex slave. Yury would surrender all; give him everything.
Yury understood his role here. He was making an effort to please. He was doing what he could to make himself desired and satisfying to the Chinese lord. His very existence relied on pleasing the men who won his time in the auction. That the warlord’s cock stood up through the slit of his robe in hard erection was a testament that Yury’s response was pleasing him.
“Da, Da–Shi, shi!” the unicorn exclaimed to the ceiling, using the leverage from the heels of his feet to row his pelvis against the churning dildo.
Extracting the dildo, the Master brushed aside the folds of his robe at his crotch, mere inches from the young man’s now-gaping hole. An angry-looking, upcurved erection rose from between the folds of the robe. The Master grasped it with one hand, while the other palmed the young man’s tailbone, raising and positioning Yury’s pelvis for penetration. As the young man panted and groaned, the Manchurian lord ran the bulb of the shaft around the rim of the hole, down the young man’s perinium to the root of Yury’s cock, which also was in full erection–sometimes Yury had to work hard to produce an erection for a client, but not with this master–and back up to the hole, making a few feints at penetrating, and when the youth whispered, “Da, da, vstav’–Yes, yes, put it in,” the Manchurian Master did so, with a forceful, deep entry that made Yury suck in his breath and involuntarily and ineffectually writhe within the man’s embrace.
The young Russian blond gasped and panted hard, crying out “Da! Da!” as the Manchurian Master grasped his butt cheeks, parting and squeezing them, and pulling out from his first breaching, forcefully and deeply penetrated Yury’s channel with his shaft again. And then again, relentlessly pulled the young man’s pelvis into him, and buried the shaft deep. And again. The rhythm of the fuck had begun.
While he set a cadence of the pumping, the warlord briefly released the young man’s buttocks to grasp Yury’s back and pull the lad’s torso up into this chest, Yury’s bound wrists going over the Chinese warrior’s head, resting behind the Manchurian’s thick neck. Yury buried his face into the scarlet robing of the Chinese man’s chest, soaking the silk there with his tears, and groaned and panted as, returning his hands to grasping and manipulating the young man’s buttocks, the Master, fully saddled, raised and lowered the youth’s channel on the shaft and revolved it back and forward and around until Yury was overcome with enough of his own arousal to rise and fall on the cock himself, using the leverage of his feet.
“Zhèyàng de rŭbáisèpífū. Túnbù rúcĭ xiázhăi. Zhème xiǎo de dòng. Zěnme chī?–Such milky-white skin. Such narrow hips. Such a small hole. How can you take it?” the Master murmured. But take it Yury did. He had no choice, and the lord wasn’t querying this out of concern. He wanted his to be the cock that was almost too big to be sheathed. He had positioned each of them so that he could watch his shaft conquer and then work that small hole open and then to concentrate on the root of shaft as it kissed the rim of the young man’s anus, pulled out several inches, and then sank to the quick again. Grasping the back of Yury’s head, he turned the young man’s face so he had to watch the work of the cock as well. Yury shuddered, panted, and moaned as he was forced to watch as well as feel the taking. The warlord took his pleasure in that way.
After several minutes of methodical bumping and grinding against each other, with Yury crying out “Eto slishkom bol’shoye!–Zhège tài dale!–It’s too big!” in Russian and Mandarin, respectively, and then “Da, Da. Shi, Shi. Zài wǒ lĭmiàn!–Yes, yes, inside me!” because he knew it was what the man wanted to hear, and with a small, mutually satisfying cry and sigh, the man and young man ejaculated almost in harmony. After a week of pulling the cock out to watch the cum spread over the young man’s back or belly, the Manchurian delighted now in seeding Yury deep and watching the young man’s eyes flash and his body jerk with each spurt of the cum.
Yury was as well fucked as any lover could do for him. With an accomplished Chinese dominator, Yury could have what no White Russian had given him as yet–pleasure in the act that was forced on him to perform because he was an alien in an alien land, barred by the threat of death of ever going back to his homeland.
They lay entwined and dozing on the platform bed in the sleeping pavilion as twilight set in around them. Yury lay, lightly panting, stretched out and vulnerable, smiling slightly at the warlord, who was hovering over him, exploring his body once more with his hands. Even after a week of working the unicorn’s body, the warlord was not tired of doing so.
Although he would have pretended it was so anyway, the young Russian had no trouble conveying to the man that he had been well fucked. The warlord smiled and whispered, “Shì de, shì de, xiǎo jiāhuo–Yes, yes, little one,” as Yury honored him by reaching out, handing the man’s cock, and working at bringing him back to life. He would not have bothered to initiate more sex with a White Russian man. A White Russian client would have moved directly into another fuck as soon as he was able for as long as the amount of time he had purchased. Remaining hovered over Yury, the warlord handed the young man’s cock as well, and slow-stroked Yury to a pelvis rocking ejaculation.
When darkness had descended, the Manchurian Master became fully engorged again, having edged himself by guiding the intensity of Yury’s stroking of his member to spin out his pleasure. He turned Yury onto his belly and then, with a strong arm encircling the young prostitute’s waist and pulling him up to his knees, Yury’s eye’s flashed open, the drugs from earlier having worn off, and yelped, as the magnificently muscled Manchurian warrior mounted the small, slender youth’s ass and penetrated him in one long slide.
The young man cried out “Vot der’mo! Okh, sovokuplyat’sya!–Oh shit! Oh, Fuck!,” forgetting in his distress to include the Mandarin, his fingers clawing at the red quilting under him as the master planted his feet, crouched over the young man’s back, and thrust, thrust, thrust, seizing full value from the week with the eighteen-year-old small, slender, foreign youth the man had conquered.
The second taking was one of power and dominance, not finesse and lovemaking. The warlord was a man, a warrior. Yury was his slave.
* * * *
During the pedicab ride into the narrow alleys of the City of the Night district of Harbin, the Manchurian Master held the small figure of the platinum-blond eighteen-year-old White Russian youth close to his side. The young man was trembling, knowing he was being returned to the auction for whatever came next. The Master would like to keep him, and he believed that the young man would be content to stay with him, but Yury’s contract was iron clad. Yury was a unicorn. He was subject to weekly auction at an astronomical price, for his entire eighteenth year. In exchange for room and board and a small amount of yuan–cash–the young man lay down for the winning bidder and opened his legs upon demand for a week.
Perhaps when the young man turns nineteen, the Master thought. But then again, perhaps his own interest will have lagged then. He was a member of this particular auction house precisely because all members shared the fetish of having youths when they were on the cusp of becoming men–still being yielding, supple, and flexible, with fresh, resilient skin and channels and still with a sense of awe at a man’s shaft entering and moving inside them. When they were of European stock, slender-hipped and alabaster hued as Yury was, it was sheer heaven for men like the Manchurian Master to hold the slim hips between their hands, the tips of their fingers almost able to touch, to squeeze open the rosebud of the young Russian’s sweet, tiny hole, and then to plunge their cocks inside and listen for the screams as they ripped the youth’s innocence from him. This was practiced with Chinese youths as well, but that was not near as satisfying as conquering and ravishing a Caucasian youth. Westerners–Foreign Ghosts–acted so superior. It was a pleasure to subjugate them.
And Yury was a unicorn.
He was a very expensive unicorn. Only the very rich and very noble Manchurians could afford a White Russian youth like Yury–at least one who was fairly fresh.
But, yes, he would bid again. They still had a way to go before arriving at the auction house. He would take his pleasure to the last possible moment. The Master rearranged the folds of his robe, cupped the back of Yury’s head, and moved the young man’s face into his lap. Obedient and yielding, Yury opened his mouth over the hard shaft and gave it suck. This man had not beaten him and had housed him in luxury. Yury could hope for no better winning bidder than this Manchurian general. Running his hands into the luxurious white-blond hair, the master gripped the young man’s head and forced it down, moving his cock into the Russian lad’s throat. The eighteen-year-old Yury gagged, but he sucked on.
At the entrance to the auction house, they parted company, the Manchurian Master going in one direction to the auction room, a windowless chamber with padded cushions surrounding a raised platform, and Yury being led in another direction.
This was the week of the unicorn–a time when a unicorn prostitute was given on stage to a symbolic unicorn for the entertainment of the auction house patrons–and thus it was a beefy Manchurian muscle man in his prime, costumed as a unicorn, who used the young men being auctioned on the platform as the nine patrons present, kneeling on the cushions surrounding the stage, contemplated and registered their bids for the young whores.
Yury, naked, was placed on a silk-covered wedge in the center of the platform, He was positioned on his back, his buttocks on the edge of the raised side of the wedge and his shoulders at the opposite, lower base. His limbs were bound, the elbows and wrists to each side of the wedge and his legs drawn back, the ankles bound to the young man’s wrists. The patrons viewed his bound and helpless perfectly formed, creamy white body from the side.
In entered the unicorn, bounding up onto the platform. He was a tall, beefy, young Chinese stud, with a horse’s head cage fashioned from flexible bamboo strips on his head. The distinguishing feature was a grease-slathered, unicorn’s spiral-sided horn in the center of the head’s forehead. The figure’s hands and feet were caged in fashioned bamboo strips, and a horse’s tail sprouted from the young man’s bulbous ass. He otherwise was naked, magnificently muscled, and hung.
As the patrons licked their lips, leaned forward, and contemplated their bids, the bound Yury, writhing as he could within his restraints and panting hard and crying to the carved-wood ceiling of the chamber, was penetrated and fucked by the unicorn, crouching low at the high-wedge end of the bound young man, and fucking him with the unicorn horn.
When he was in full erection, the unicorn rose up, hovered over the bound body of the young man, set hooves at the sides of the wedge, and slid inside Yury with a massive, hard cock. Young, virile, strong, long-lasting, and hung, the unicorn pulled his hips back until the rim of the bulb was evident and then thrust forward. Back and thrust forward. Again and again. The massively thick unicorn cock churning away in the small Russian’s dilating rosebud caused the patrons to lean forward more, lick their lips, and move their hands into the folds of their robes to find their erections. Their sighs and moans mingled with Yury’s cries and groans. The bidding on the beautiful platinum-blonde Russian was guaranteed to be high. Each of the patrons dreamed of fitting his own shaft inside that hole.
The unicorn fucked Yury and fucked him and fucked him, as, turning his face to the patrons, his platinum blond hair flowing around his head, his body moving into become one with the fuck and rocking with the unicorn, Yury looked out to the watching bidders for relief and mercy that didn’t come. If all nine turned in bids, the performance would end there and the winner would be identified. The patrons had been doing this long enough, though, to know to turn in bids late so as to be able to enjoy a performance longer.
Seeing no solace among the watchers, the resilient young man gritted his teeth and turned his face away. He would survive. It would be tough, but, thanks to his looks and his ability and willingness to take men’s cocks, he would survive. He also would take some enjoyment of his own from it. This unicorn was a god of the fuck, for instance. Any resistance Yury was conveying was an act. He chose this form of survival.
The performance was so scintillating that it was quite possible that when the unicorn pulled his cock out and ejaculated up Yury’s belly, all nine patrons came with him. Exhausted, Yury just lay there, collapsed, his head lolled back to the side where the patrons could see his total surrender in his defeated facial expression, and his eyes set in a daze. He had come several minutes earlier. His chafed, red-rimmed hole was no long a rosebud. It gaped to the unicorn’s demanding requirements. Each patron fantasized that they would leave it in the same condition constantly for a week when their bid was accepted. China routing and conquering Russia.
Yury was a beautiful young man. Once again, he went for a high bid. The Manchurian Master regretted that his was not the winning bid this time. But the beautiful little young man would be brought back again for the next auction, which would be the auction of the ox. The Chinese stud who played the ox was even more magnificently endowed than the unicorn was. None of the patrons of the auction house would miss that performance. There was always a chance that his bid would be the winning one there–and when Yury turned nineteen, perhaps the master could afford to buy his contract. If, of course, the Master had an interest then in a young man older than eighteen–and one so totally used. He’d have to see what damage the ox could do.