I was bent over the side of the bed in the third-floor suite of the Hotel Antinous, arms stretched above my head, gripping fist-loads of bedspread to hold myself steady in position, watching the flamboyantly dressed Cemil Teke lounging in the sitting area across the room and viewing me being fucked hard through hooded eyes. The big, rough, Turkish seaman and smuggler was saddled behind me, grasping my hips in his rough hands, and fucking me hard. He'd been rough enough that I had cried out at his first, cruel penetration. I'm sure that my cries had rumbled through the halls of the hotel, where every room was occupied now, merely nine months after the hotel had opened. But, as men were undoubtedly being fucked all over the premises at the same time the man Cemil had brought to me was dominating me, my cries had just blended in.
We were running a full-scale male brothel here apparently, and Cemil had gained nearly total control. I had become just another male prostitute to Cemil's intricate networking to support his journey ever deeper into illegal and illicit activities in Turkey.
The man he'd brought to me was yet another piece in the puzzle Cemil was putting together to feather his nest. As an American, who kept myself in shape, I was a valuable chit in Cemil's game of exchanging favor for favor. He didn't call upon me often—and then only when the stakes were high—but he didn't take my wishes into consideration when he did.
The big bruiser pulled out of me and hauled me up onto the bed, on my back, stuffing a pillow under the small of my back as he did to elevate my pelvis. I tried to rise, and he backhanded me across the mouth, drawing blood. I lay back and docilely spread my legs and bent my knees, opening to his cruel thrusts inside me as he hovered over me between my thighs. His hands went to my throat, and he was choking me as he thrusted again and again, not particularly long or thick, but cruel and powerful in his thrusts. My hands went to his wrists, trying to dislodge his grip on my throat, but to no avail. He was too strong for me. I blacked out.
When I came to, the smuggler and Cemil were across the room, sitting in tub chairs and discussing their business in low tones.
"I will supply all of your needs for those booked at the hotel at low prices," the smuggler was saying. "But I want a place for storage as well, to support distribution throughout the region."
"We can manage that," Cemil replied. "We want more than the drugs, though. We want liquor and cigarettes at cheap prices too."
I didn't need to hear more than that to know what Cemil was dragging us—me—into.
The smuggler had seen that I had come to, though, and was moving back to the bed, his manhood, such as it was, hard again, cruelly curved up. I tried to roll off the bed, away from him, but he was too fast and strong for me. He fucked me stretched out on top of me, my belly to the bed. I reached up and grabbed the rungs of the headboard over my head, and he grasped my wrists with his fists, holding me there, while he fucked me from behind and above with hard strokes.
After they left and I had showered, I took my lunch in the dining room. There were three other couples, all male, having their lunch, all absorbed in each other. Envir, who was waitering today, brought me an Izmir newspaper, which I perused as I was waiting from my food to arrive and mulling at the back of my mind what I possibly could do to keep the hotel from sinking deeper into crime by becoming a distribution center for illicit substances.
I stopped on page two, the trembling in my hands almost preventing me from making out the words in the caption under a photo there. The photo was of some sort of ribbon-cutting ceremony. My periodic, authoritarian older lover in Izmir, Onur, was in the photograph. He was identified as Onur Sadik, police chief over the entire Izmir region, which stretched down to Kusadasi. The man I was fucking once a month, but who dominated me as we fucked, was no less than the top policeman in the region.
"What do you see that makes you smile so?" Envir said, as he poured water in my glass.
"It's nothing, Envir," I said. But just maybe it was everything, I was thinking.
* * * *
Moving my hips back, I pulled out of Serhan's ass, but I remained holding him to me in a chest-embracing hug where I'd held him as I took him in a side split. We were on the iron bed in the bedroom of the one of the Kizlay Haber mountain village stone sections of the triplex I'd had rebuilt. The units were in high demand, but I'd kept one—the one where the contractor, Haluk Badem, had fucked me when only the bathroom had been built—for my frequent trysts with Serhan. He continued to be a sweet and compliant lay. He'd given it all to me this afternoon even though I knew that he was devastated.
The room was much the same as it had been when Badem brought me here and royally fucked me. He'd wanted to do that again after that, but I'd held him off. I was weaning myself away from being used as a bottom in my quest to totally switch sides from a husband of a woman to an exclusive top for men. Only Cemil Teke now was able to pull me back into the role of bottom and only then for other men he was trying to strike deals with and who wanted me to be part of the deal.
Although the room looked mostly the same when it had been in ruins, it wasn't. Badem's reconstruction of the stone triplex was complete, and he'd done a great job. This room, though, I'd wanted to leave to appear much as it did the first time I saw it. The wall to the small courtyard, the fountain now functioning, still was low and jagged topped, but what had once been open was glass, with a glass door to the courtyard. The wall to the interior corridor still was one large mirror. Openings at the top had been left to accommodate the vines that still invaded the room. The opening in the roof had been replaced by a large, expensively irregular-shaped skylight. I'd left the bed in the center of the chamber, with no other furniture in the room. The bureau, armoire, and chair were in a dressing room leading to the already-modernized bathroom.
I wanted the focus of the room to be the sturdy iron bed with the pristine white sheeting, and, when possible, on the young man on the bed. I did have tripods and cameras spaced around the bed and light fixtures high up on the walls, providing lighting to highlight the bed.
I took photos of Serhan before, during, and after the fucks. I occasionally brought in guests from the Hotel Antinous who attracted me and who were willing, and photographed them fucking each other on the bed—and, occasionally one of them fucking Envir and sometimes, when he was willing, and he always seemed to be willing, Serhan, although increasingly, as my relationship deepened with Serhan, I kept him to myself. I didn't fuck or photograph myself with anyone there except Serhan. The photographs and videos sold very well on the Internet to my specialized clientele, and I was being made quite rich from this aspect of my business.
I told Cemil Teke as little as I could about the photography service. If he knew how well that business was doing, I'm sure he would have moved in on that as well as on the hotel business.
After quietly rising from the bed so as not to disturb Serhan in his doze, I padded around and turned off the video cameras that had been filming us and took one of the still cameras and moved around the bed, taking photos of the beautiful young man's debauched body. He couldn't lie in anything but a sexy pose if he had wanted to.
Then I went into the bathroom and showered.
When I came out of the bathroom, he was sitting up in bed, looking dejected but very, very desirable. I had been thinking of him and of his body and of the threat that I might be about to lose him if I didn't do something about his plight. I was in full erection again when I came into the bedroom. I went around and switched the video cameras back on. Moving to the bed, I sat on the side, and, with a shy smile and correctly reading my desire, Serhan crouched in front of me and took my cock in his mouth.
