a-kept-man-in-china-3

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Alexis Ren

Subject: A kept man in China, part 3 —– Readers: This is a completely fictional multi-part story involving a 25 year old white American man who finds himself at the beck and call of an increasingly confident 14 year old Chinese boy, while he is living and working in China. If you find this subject matter objectionable, please stop reading now. If you enjoy it, I hope you’ll reach out with your thoughts and comments, I am at ail. Finally, please do consider making a donation to Nifty, to support the editors who make this site possible and allow this fiction to be published! —– The next morning, I woke up well before the rest of the family and rushed out to buy fresh steamed baozi as a breakfast treat. Xiaobo and then his parents woke up and wandered out, smelled them in the kitchen and thanked me for being so thoughtful, but explained they’d shortly be leaving for dim sum with the grandparents, so they would skip my breakfast. After a rush of activity, they left together and I carried the steamer basket over to the family dinner table to eat by myself. I looked at the basket and cringed. I had carefully bought four baozi. One for Xiaobo, one each for his parents, and one for me. Had they not left so quickly, I probably would have blithely assumed I was entitled to sit down and eat a meal with them without asking. “You’re an American servant,” I reminded myself outloud. I made a mental note always to take my food to my room and eat it there, unless I was invited. Sitting alone at the large family dining table, I noticed a few crumbs, and so I brought a rag over to clean up. Thereafter, everywhere I turned, I saw a little something that needed cleaning. Despite how much I disliked keeping my own apartment tidy, it became a challenge and even a thrill to make their home as perfectly clean as possible. By the time they were back from dim sum, they found me on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen bahçelievler escort floor. “Our American servant works so diligently,” the mother said in Chinese, standing over me as I knelt. A numb twinge of excitement hit me to hear this and secretly understand how I was regarded. She’d only called me the same thing I called myself. “Mother appreciates your hard work,” Xiaobo translated diplomatically. The rest of the week was very much in the same routine. I went the extra mile to please my employers, and they seemed pleasantly fascinated to see an American doing menial work for them so eagerly, but they generally continued living their life as if I was not there. Near the end of the week, bad news arrived. Xiaobo’s uncle had taken ill, and his mother and father would have to hurry to Beijing. Xiaobo could not miss school, so they confided that they would leave him in my care. I was thrilled to be trusted with their son after only a week. “Remember, Xiaobo will be the master of this house, he will tell you your tasks,” the father said in his accented English. “Yes of course, sir,” I said deferentially. As I said “sir”, my eyes flicked to Xiaobo knowingly. I’d taken to calling the young boy sir first, and I wanted him to know that with his parents gone, I understood that he really was to be the master. Unfortunately, my very first morning with upgraded responsibility, I got off to a bad start. That Saturday morning, I forgot to set my alarm, and was awakened by Xiaobo letting himself into my bedroom and then knocking. “Isn’t it time for breakfast now?” he asked, his voice a mixture of surprise and insistance. It was already 8:00AM! I yelped and jumped out of bed, only then to remember I was wearing nothing but tighty whiteys. I blushed and held my hands over my groin, expecting Xiaobo would duck out of the room in modesty. Instead he stood his ground, making bakırköy escort no effort to hide that he was looking over my nearly naked body. In all likelihood he had never seen a white man this intimately, and I felt myself being unapologetically inspected. “Ok, let me get dressed,” I stammered. “I’m really quite hungry,” Xiaobo said insistantly. I took the hint that I was late enough as it was, and getting dressed was a luxury. “Of course! Breakfast coming right up, sir.” I straightened my back and uncovered my groin as if this was all in the line of work. Xiaobo’s eyes went straight to the bulge in my briefs and lingered there. Seeing and literally feeling a young boy looking at me this way and making no effort to hide myself made me start to stiffen. I hastened to the kitchen, if only to get away from his stare that was making me grow hard. From the kitchen I called over my shoulder, “What’ll it be for breakfast this morning, sir?” Willingly calling a Chinese boy 11 years my junior ‘sir’ while parading about the kitchen in tight briefs only increased my arousal. “An omelet.” Xiaobo parked himself on a stool by the opposite side of the kitchen island and watched me work. With my back to him at the stove, he couldn’t see that my cock had grown fully hard, and for modesty’s sake I was hoping I could get it to deflate before I had to turn around and serve his plate… but it didn’t. My endowment, honestly speaking, is mediocre, but even so, it created an obvious tent. I gave in to both the thrill and the inevitability that I would not try to hide it, and sure enough when I turned around, Xiaobo stared at it with his deep brown perceptive eyes. I felt a small ooze of precum starting. “I need a napkin,” he said matter of factly. “Where are they, sir?” Xiaobo sighed, hopped down off the stool, and walked around the kitchen island and stood along balgat escort side me, so close our bodies were almost touching. It became obvious that I was standing right in front of the drawer where the napkins were kept, so I backed up a step. Xiaobo reached in to open the drawer in front of me, and his hand brushed up against the sideways facing shaft stretching my briefs. I shivered, and he laughed. After retrieving a napkin, his hand brushed even more deliberately against my bulge. “You should just take those off,” he chided. I felt my face flush bright red. To be naked in front of a 14 year old boy? When I’m fully hard? When I can already feel precum starting to ooze? That… was… so… wrong. But then I remembered his father’s words: “Xiaobo will be the master of the house”. And the line in the contract “The Servant is expected to be obedient…”. In that moment, I realized I had no choice but to do what my horniness wanted me to do anyway. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and pulled down until my cock sprang free and swayed between my hips. Xiaobo’s eyes were fixed on my member, affording me no privacy. I stood there, with my briefs half way down my thighs, letting the young boy look at me. My heart was pounding and I could feel my body start to tremble. At last he spoke. “It’s rather small.” It was a crippling blow to any man’s ego, but I knew it was true probably true. At 5″ fully erect, my member was supposedly average for Americans, but on a 6’2″ frame like mine, it looked downright tiny. I cleared my throat and decided to defend the thoroughgoing averageness of my manhood, but before I could speak, Xiaobo said, “Take them all the way off.” Without protest, I obediently let the briefs slide down my thighs, and stepped out of them. “Mother and father will be gone all week. I want you to stay naked all the time now. You are the servant. You must.” It was the first time he called me a servant to my face. My cock twitched and a small string of precum started to hang down. The sound that came out of my mouth surprised even me. It wasn’t a protest. It wasn’t agreement. It was just a whimpering moan as I gave in to the reality that for this week I was now a Chinese boy’s naked American plaything.

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