Gay Erotic Stories

Before disembarking Marshal Destiny Cultrane had stopped briefly to check, once again, the shirt pocket where he’d tucked the sepia-toned serograph of a handsome young man he didn’t recognize and the concise note that had brought he and Billy to San Francisco. Only an emergency would have caused his friend, Jack Anders, to send such a message. It simply read: “Cully, I need you in San Francisco quickly. Jack.”

They’d left Tucson immediately and were now walking at a quickening pace through the new station that served the city which had become the hub of the west coast.

“How we gonna find Jack, Destiny?” Billy asked. He was only mildly interested in the question since he was still occupied taking in the expanses of marble and brick, the women in voluminous taffeta skirts and feathered hats and the men dressed in the newest suits of worsted with silk neckwear that ballooned out under their chins and hung down onto their chests. He felt somewhat embarrassed by his own shirt, new jeans and boots but took some comfort from a dozen or so cowboys in similar dress coming and going from the trains, many with saddles slung over their broad shoulders.

The ‘golden spike’ which had been driven only eight years earlier had transformed te city into the trade and industrial Mecca of the Pacific. Now, the network of rails connecting it with the rest of the country had drawn thousands of people to the new prosperity. But, too often, with many people came trouble. And, it must have been serious to initiate the note Jack had sent.

“He’ll find us, Bill. Just gotta give “im time,” Cultrane replied, pressing trough the crowd, his dazzled companion following close behind.

It was Cultrane’s size, the masculine sexuality he exuded and the way he carried himself with an almost feline grace and assuredness which commanded the attention of the people around him, wherever he went. The long, blond hair he kept neatly trimmed and swept back above his ears framed the deeply tanned, classic features of his face and the hard, Aryan-blue eyes that sparkled with a special softness when he smiled.

The marshal hired a hansom cab and they started off through the long shadows of the evening. Gas lamps along the way punched weird, orange holes in the fog that tightened like a clammy fist around the area Cultrane had called the Bowery. There were cowboys all around them here, fresh in from cattle drives, and seamen drinking their last pay and meandering to and from the noisy saloons, dance halls bordellos that thrived on their trade.

They left the cab and went on foot along the narrow streets, Destiny occasionally stopping to peer into a crowded tavern and then moving on. The din of raucous laughter, honky-tonk music and bawdy songs faded into the background as they left the more populated area and rounded a corner into a darkened alleyway.

For the first time on this trip Billy felt fear tightening a knot deep in his gut. Although he’d had no experience in a city before an instinct rooted deep inside told him that any one of te characters they’d just passed would slit a man’s throat for a gold piece without a second thought. He closed the distance between himself and Cultrane, frequently glancing over his shoulder at the disappearing light of the street and hearing only the hollow fall of their shoes on the wet pavers.

Out of the fog on their right a narrow doorway appeared illuminated only by the yellow flame of a single, shadeless gas jet protruding from the wall beside it. Above, limned by the same wavering flame, a weathered sign swung on crooked, rusted chains bearing the flaking image of a rooster and the name: THE GOLDEN COCK.

Billy closed the door behind himself, then turned to face the darkened room. This place was conspicuously rougher looking than the other bars they had stopped at; dirtier, shabbier, a few gas fixtures in the ceiling and candles on some tables seemed impotent against the great cloud of tobacco smoke that hung n the stale air and made the customers appear as ghosts milling about in the haze. A huge oak bar, crowded with grizzled seamen, extended down the left side of the room while over-used tables were arranged haphazardly around on the sawdust-covered floor.

There was a noticeable drop in the volume and amount of conversation as the occupants leveled their attention at the two handsome strangers just inside the door, then a gradual increase as they were reluctantly accepted and moved in to join the men at the bar.

A fat, unshaven man with a huge mustache and a filthy apron approached from the far of the bar and made a tentative swipe along its dulled surface with a dirty rag. “What’ll you gents ‘ve?” His voice was impassive, phlegmy.

“Whiskey...two glasses,” Cultrane answered. He spent only a moment glancing around the room before filling their glasses and sliding one toward his companion who was wondering why Destiny had chosen such a place for a drink.

Billy was about to ask the question when all at once a weathered, old sailor appeared at his elbow. If he’d watched him approach he would have noticed the distinct limp and the stick he used as a cane. A large hump pressed against his coat behind his right shoulder and a dirty, black patch covered left eye. Scraggly clumps of grey hair stuck out around the bottom of a tattered knit cap and his clothes were foul with the smell of sweat and his dirty body. Billy instinctively moved in closer to Cultrane.

The derelict sailor fished in his pocket and came up with enough coins to cover the cost of the bottle Cultrane had ordered and cast them onto the bar. He spoke to the barkeeper with the trace of a British accent behind his husky voice.

“Perhaps these two gentlemen and I could avail ourselves of the use of your back room?” he asked.

With one hairy paw the bartender swept the money from the bar and jutted his chin toward a door at the end of the long room. “Help yerself,” he said absently.

“Now, why would we want to join you in the back room of this place?” Hollis came back, suspicion thickening his voice.

“Aye might just ‘ave some business for two lads as fine as yourselves.” He drew a slow, appraising gaze up and down the muscular body Billy Hollis had packed inside the tight jeans, half open shirt and leather vest.

“I think we should hear the man out, Bill.” Destiny downed the liquor in his glass, trying to suppress the coy smile that was beginning to tease his mouth.

Together they set off toward the back room through the group of men who watched them suspiciously; the tall lawman, his young companion and the hobbling, crusty old sailor following at a short distance.

The private room was small, dull and completely undecorated save for an unfinished table and four rickety chairs set around it. A gas fixture hissed gently against one plain wall.

Billy watched the old man silently close the door behind him and was amazed at the transformation that immediately took place. He had straightened his crooked back to a healthy, erect posture and leaned the cane against the back of one of the chairs. With his left hand he pulled off the tattered cap. The tufts of tangled grey hair came off with it! He quickly removed the eye patch with his right hand.

“What is this?” Bill questioned, suddenly faced by a man, not much older than himself with a full head of curly brown hair and a pair of bright, sparkling eyes.

A smile crossed his made-up face. “Cully, I’m glad you came. It’s so good to see you.” He moved in to embrace the big lawman.

“Billy, meet Jack Anders. Jack, Billy Hollis.” Destiny made the introduction while the two men shook hands.

“I can’t believe it.” Billy was still astonished by the complicated guise.

“Hafta go under ground from time to time, Bill, to get the job done,” he laughed. “Let’s sit’n talk.” He motioned to the table and the bottle and glasses he’d placed there.

“What’s goin’ on, Jack?” Destiny came to the point. He lit a skinny cheroot and settled into the business of the conversation. “Who’s the kid in the picture?”

Anders leaned in on his elbows toward the two men, closing the distance between them while filling their glasses. “The fella in the photograph is a young man who’s turned up missing. We think he’s been kidnapped by the ‘chinies’.”

“So...you could handle that, Jack? Whatdya need us for?” Cultrane was puzzled.

“His name’s Phil Carrie...the only son of Governor Jonathan Carrie, and the Governor wants him back...The President wants him back.”

Destiny sucked in a long, slow breath and let it out as a quiet whistle. “Why didn’t you go in and get ‘im out?”

“They know me, Cully. Someone has to go into the organization, someone they don’t suspect, and look around.”

“Us,” Cultrane inserted.

“Right. I’d heard you’d joined up with a handsome young guy, and got myself an idea. Hear me out, fellas, and then tell me if you’re game. If you’re not, I’ll understand. “The flesh market is big here and it’s run by a ‘chinie’ by the name of Yo Hung. Boys, girls...he don’t care, so long as they’re sellable.”

“He sells people?” Billy asked, incredulous.

“That’s right...Girls are usually sold into China, boys for hard labor in the mines or for sex toys all over the world. Our people say he’s got Phil Carrie and that he’s got a sale planned. The boy will probably be in it. If we don’t get ‘im out before that, we may lose him.”

“Whatta we do?” Cultrane asked, wondering if Billy’s cock was stirring in his lap as strongly as his own. The thought of young men being sold for sex was almost too much for his comprehension; it had to be overwhelming for Hollis.

“Cully, you’ll go in, with my help of course, posing as a gent who’s looking to sell his ‘boy’...he nodded toward Billy....and buy another.”

“I...I don’t know, Destiny. What if something happens...what if I wind up a slave?’ Billy’s undisguised concern shown on his face.

“I won’t let anything ‘happen’, Bill. I think we should give it a try.”

“My people will be close by, Bill. Nothing will happen,” Anders reiterated.

“Well...okay...I guess we can do it.” Billy was still apprehensive but willing to try.

*****************

Jack Anders’ office was an odd collection of rooms set atop a hand laundry and a small general store in a frame building on the edge of Chinatown. The main room, which had originally been the withdrawing room of the flat, was sparsely furnished with two cluttered desks, a few leather covered chairs and the files he needed in his work. The bedroom which he’d given over to Destiny and young Hollis the night before was located just behind the office and down the hall from an indoor bathroom with running water and a complete kitchen where Cultrane had started a fire at dawn and already had a pot of coffee bubbling on the stove.

Being in service as a Government agent usually afforded few luxuries but it appeared Jack was doing well with his limited means.

Destiny stepped from the bathtub where he’d been soaking and began drying his big, rugged body with the towel he’d found. Thoughts of the night before flooded his mind and hardened his cock; the corners of his mouth drew up into a satisfied smile.

He recalled the feel of Billy’s hard body pressed against his back beneath the covers of Jack’s brass bed; the taut flat belly, the dyke of pectoral muscles and the stiff hairs that prickled along his skin. Then, the gentle semi-conscious probing of Billy’s hardened member against the cleft of his ass, pressing closer and closer to the puckered opening, seeking entrance.

Destiny closed his fist around the girth of his vein etched penis and coaxed the skin back off the flared head as he remembered the sting of Billy’s entry; the pain that grew to waves of delight that swept into his brain. He raised one leg and planted his foot firmly on the edge of the claw-footed tub. His free hand grazed over the shorter hairs on the curve of his tight butt toward the hot-moist crevice and the pucker that still ached from the fucking Hollis had given it. The fingers he inserted were a poor substitute but sufficient to bring back the memory of Billy’s erection plunging deeper and deeper into him, driving him toward the explosive orgasm.

Cultrane was transfixed; his mind locked on the unendurable race to another release. His cock was super-heated steel on the rough skin of the palm that flew back and forth along its length, exciting him beyond belief, the fingers that twisted and probed the velvety chute at the base of his body sought out the spot of greatest pleasure; the hardened button that once massaged would drive him to his release. A violent shudder passed through his body and a low moan escaped his lips when he was able to control it no longer. Sweat glistened on his body like a coating of fresh dew and he was caught in the racking convulsions of ejaculation. Destiny watched blasts of his own potent spunk fly from the head of his dick onto the surface of the murky bath water where it separated and sank slowly toward the bottom. Then, there was only the slow, steady flow of his cum over the edge of his hand onto the wooden floor and the thrum of his rapid heartbeat in his ears.

************************ Six young men were lead into the main chamber of the secret lair Wo Hung had carved out somewhere beneath the city. Two massive Chinese, both dressed in the costume of ancient warriors, held the bound arms of each man as they were brought in single toward the dias and the royally garbed figure who sat awaiting them. Four of the hapless group wore the clothes of western cowboys while the other two were wore the uniforms of a steamship company. They were united only by the misfortune that brought them to this unhappy situation.

Had they been free to raise their heads they would have seen the opulence surrounding them. Rich red and black damask and red velvet draperies were hung around the huge room and tied back to the polished black pillars that punctuated the long walls. Foo dogs, carved from the finest alabaster and filigreed ivory panels adorned the room and bordered the ceiling. Two more dogs and twin giant urns on teak stands marked the edge of the dias where the robed figure sat enthroned upon an intricately carved teakwood chair. Smoke rising from giant bowls of incense clouded the room and seemed to anesthetize the six victims. The quiet hiss of gas fixtures was the only sound as the men were brought into line, elbow to elbow, at the foot of the dias steps.

Wo hung wore the robes of ancient celestial China, heavy white on white brocade fabric embroidered with gold thread in the shape of dragons, flowers and the birds of the Heavenly City. The face beneath a royal hat was a hard, expressionless continence, weathered by many years and marked with a network of deep wrinkles. A thin, white mustache grew across his upper lip and hung down a foot below each corner of his mouth and onto the front of the magnificent robe. Cold eyes peered out from beneath the narrow slits of the lids onto the young men who had been led before him.

He was helped to his feet and shuffled slowly toward the edge of the platform and down the steps to examine a dark-haired cowboy who was the first in the row. A hand with inch long polished nails appeared from inside the voluminous sleeve of the robe and traced along the neck of the abject man until he was able to tilt the chin up and look into the handsome face. Their eyes were locked for only a moment before he made a slight motion with his hand and the guards were on the victim again, this time one secured him while the other quickly began stripping off his clothes. Wo hung hissed small, approving sounds as the sturdy body was bared for his scrutiny.

The other five became anxious when they sensed the disrobing of the sixth and struggled but were easily subdued by the guards who kept their chins pinioned to their chests.

This one is slightly more than a youth, Wo Hung thought, but fair...fair indeed; handsome and powerfully built. A spattering of fine hair spread across the mass of his pectorals, encircling the brown, almond shaped nubs at either edge, and grew into a neat line that trailed down over the ridged oval of his abdominal and into the wiry pelt between his legs. His arms, though still secured behind his back, were thick and strong; his legs were like sculpted muscular columns.

Wo Hung’s arms were crossed over his chest, the hands once again concealed in the folds of the sleeves. He communicated in a series of guttural sounds and nods of his head to the guards.

Following a nod, the guard reached between the prisoner’s legs to bring up the young man’s genitals on his yellow palm for the Master’s inspection. “Uuummm...,” the Master cooed.

The large, firm testicles lay on the open hand like two eggs squirming inside the hairy skin sack. He thought how much more impressive they would appear when the bush had been removed; and it soon would be. A trimmed, stout cock rested flaccid in the valley between the two balls. It was clean, smooth-skinned; its root completely concealed in the thick thatch of curls. The head swelled and darkened as the Master watched.

Another nod and the guard began manipulating the sensitive members with his dirty fingers. The young cowboy twisted and thrust back his hips but could not escape the attentions. Before too long his cock had stretched to nearly it maximum length and stood up, bobbing away from his crotch; a strand of translucent pre-cum hanging from the tip of the dick, dangling toward the floor. Wo Hung was pleased.

When he was satisfied with the figure of the broad back, strong legs and deep-dimpled butt the Master gave yet another nod and the cowboy was forced to his knees, his head tucked between his legs beside the pile of his discarded clothes.

One by one the next five were exposed and examined until they all knelt naked before the dias and Wo Hung returned to his throne to seal their fate. His instructions were given in Chinese and the men were led from the chamber to be readied for sale.

Alone once again, Wo Hung threw back his head and slapped his hands onto the ebony arms of the chair. Malevolent laughter resonated through the underground chambers, even to the filthy cells where his hapless prisoners huddled.

***********************

It was late morning when Jack entered his rooms to find a naked Cultrane struggling with the leather apparatus he’d provided and instructed Billy to wear to the meeting with Wo Hung. Destiny had the harness securely strapped around Hollis’ chest but couldn’t seem to figure out the straps which hung loose over his hips and between his bare legs.

“Here. Let me help ya’,” Anders laughed as he approached. “I think these go through here.” He knelt before Billy and fed the semi-solid cock and full scrotum, one ball at a time, through the heavy ring at the end of one strap and fastened the others where they belonged, tightening up the whole thing. Excitement flooded him at the sight of the two nude, erect lawmen but there was work to be done and he had to force his desires into the background. “Better get dressed, Cully, we gotta get goin’.” Before too long they were on their way, Cultrane in the clothes of a wealthy gentleman and the apprehensive Hollis wearing only the black leather device, boots and a pair of worn denim pants. Jack Anders hurried them into the waiting carriage for the short ride to the entrance of Wo Hung’s domain. On the way he gave Destiny as much information as he had on the Chinese Master’s secret operations.

They arrived at the front of a shabby restaurant in the center of Chinatown. At the entrance there were people all around them, scurrying about the streets but few paid any attention to the big, blonde American or the half-naked young man who followed him to the door.

“Good luck,” Jack called from the carriage as it started away, its wheels throwing up sprays of grimy water.

Destiny and Bill followed Jack’s instructions, ignoring the few people at tables around the room and walking straight through the kitchen and to another door at the rear.

“Wo Hung,” Cultrane said to one of the men at the door.

“You come,” he answered, appraising them both, and then leading the way down a darkened stairway.

It was a long way down, past the basement of the building and further. Torches set in the rock walls lighted the way until they came out into a flat area with a dirt floor, more torches and a heavy steel door set into the wall ahead. The man pounded a rhythmic pattern on the door and retreated without saying a word back the way they had come, disappearing into the gloom.

After a few seconds the door was unbolted and opened by a man wearing more formal western clothes than their escort. He held the door wide for the two men, bowing deeply to Cultrane and ignoring the harnessed youth. Ahead of them was a wide hall, floored with black marble and lavishly decorated in Chinese red and black fabrics. The silent guide led them through into a sitting room hung with more fabric and furnished with several ebony chairs. A black-dressed, handsome Caucasian man rose and bowed politely as they entered.

“Ahhh, Mr. Cultrane. I am told you wish to do business with us.” He cast an assessing glance at Hollis and motioned to one of the chairs. “Please, be seated.”

Cultrane eased himself into a chair and Billy knelt on the floor beside him as he’d been instructed to do.

“I tire of this boy. He’s grown too old to please me. I’d like to see something else...something younger.”

“We will more than likely be able to reach an agreement, Mr. Cultrane. He looks very fit, but before we commit we would like to see your boy’s further assets. Would you mind?” he leered at Billy.

“Not at all, but I did expect to see Wo Hung,” Destiny responded.

The man chuckled. “Wo Hung seldom involves himself with daily affairs, I’m afraid...Now, Mr. Cultrane.”

As Destiny snapped his fingers Billy rose and removed his boots and slipped off the jeans. The ring about his genitals had kept his heavy cock half inflated; it plopped against one thigh before it swung into position over his balls and between his spread legs. He kept his head bowed and stood quietly until he was instructed to turn for the man’s survey of his strong back and rounded butt.

“Very nice... very nice indeed, Sir.” He removed his rough hand from the space between Billy’s ass cheeks. “I think you have...just what we need.”

Then, before Destiny could guess what was happening, the man laughed and snapped his fingers. A dozen or more Chinese appeared from the openings behind the curtains, all dressed in strange looking ancient uniforms. The flailing Billy was seized and dragged off, struggling, into the moving walls.

“DESTINY!” he screamed as he disappeared.

“BILLY?... NOOOO!” Destiny tried to lunge after him but he’d been grabbed from behind by several more men and was grappled to the floor. He fought savagely but they held his arms and legs secure; he was helpless. There were hands moving rapidly over his body. What was happening? A silk cloth was pulled through his mouth and tied behind his head. He felt the clothes Jack had provided being torn from him one piece at a time until he lay naked and sweating on the cold floor beneath his captors. The face of the man he had been speaking to was suspended above him, grinning, “Now you’ll see Wo Hung, Mr. Cultrane, however in quite a different role than you had expected. Take him!” he ordered the guards.

Destiny continued to struggle, determined not to succumb, as he was dragged through a labyrinth of corridors and into the huge room where Wo Hung held his evil court. The guards were much smaller than their big prisoner but well trained and their combined strength far outmatched his own. He finally tired and was easier to control as they brought him into place before the dias and the robed old man seated on the ornate throne. Sweat poured down his form, pasting the hair of his chest, flat belly and pubic triangle into shiny, dark patches that glistened in the gaslight. It dripped from the pucker of skin at the tip of the sturdy cock and off the base of his scrotum onto the floor between his feet.

“It is good to finally meet you, Mr. Cultrane. It is unfortunate for you that we could not have met under more pleasant circumstances.” He walked down the steps and toward his captive.

Cultrane thought something rang peculiarly familiar in the old man’s voice but his mind was still racing and he was unable to put any pieces together. They stood almost nose to nose.

With what he suspected might be his last burst of strength Destiny broke free from the guards and struck Wo Hung square in the face. His fist made contact with a sickening’‘splat’ that tore a large piece of skin from the cheek and sent it sailing across the room. Cultrane was so shocked the guards had little trouble regaining their control of the big man.

“BASTARD!” Wo hung cursed and whirled away from him and the surprised warriors, bending, hiding and clutching at his face. “BIND HIM TO THE COLUMN AND GET OUT!!” he shrieked.

The guards obeyed and Destiny was dragged to one of he polished columns and tied, his hands pulled behind it and his ankles secured at the base. His massive chest and taut abdomen heaved with a pattern of heavy breaths; he pulled hopelessly on the tight bonds. The lawman was floundering in a morass of fear and sheer confusion as Wo Hung straightened and approached.

Great chunks of loose flesh hung from one side of his face; one end of the mustache was missing, but there was no blood, just more bruised skin inside the gaping wound. He stood again in front of his captive, weirdly smiling and pulling at the flaps of skin that remained. It came off in pieces; eyebrows, wrinkled cheeks and nose, revealing more and more of the second, younger face hidden beneath the disguise.

Cultrane couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, all at once there was recognition. “Jack!?” he croaked from behind the silk gag.

“Oh, sorry. Let me get that.” Jack reached behind Cultrane’s head and untied the cloth. He used it to swipe the remaining bits of make up and glue from his face. “So, you’ve discovered my little secret. I’m rather glad in a way. Now, we can deal with each other as equals.”

“You’re Wo Hung?” The incredulity was heavy in his voice.

“That’s right.. My cleverest disguise, don’t you agree? On top I do my job and down here I control all of this.” He made a broad gesture into the elaborate chamber. “When I killed him he was an old, sick man; his time was up anyway. He’d spent years plying his revolting trade; it was time a younger man should take over.

“I had to work awhile duplicating his face, but it’s been well worth the trouble. Wo Hung controlled an empire of vice worth more than you or I could ever imagine. And now it’s all mine.”

“What about Phil Carrie?’ Cultrane asked.

Anders laughed, “I never had Phil Carrie, Cully. He was the bait, my robust friend. You...you are the prize. I’ve always idolized this body you possess.” He drew his fingers down over Destiny’s pronounced ribs. “Your blonde good looks, solid muscles...and the power of your sex.” Jack closed one hand around the base of Cultrane’s equipment. “Now that too belongs to me, at least until the sale. Then, you will bring the greatest price. I have procured you for a very special customer and your friend, Hollis, is merely the frosting on the cake.”

Cultrane knew he had become completely erect in Jack’s grasp; the manipulations had charged the millions of tiny nerves along the shaft and around the swollen head and sent the message of lust through his body and along to his brain.

“You mad bastard!” Destiny spat. “I’ll never perform for you or anybody, Anders. I’ll never cooperate and you know it.”

Anders continued absently stroking the engorged cock. The head had emerged from the deep folds of skin and a drop of crystalline goo had appeared at its tip.

“I was afraid you’d take that attitude. But I will help you adjust.” He stepped to the throne and returned with a small teak box which he opened before Cultrane’s wild eyes.

“An ancient Chinese medical treatment, tried and true for thousands of years. Finer needles than these are inserted into various parts of the body. They’re very effective, Cully. They’ll cure many things. And, they are painless. I’ve varied the theme, however, and with some experimentation I came up with a way to make even the most difficult subject pliable.”

He held one of the needles and slowly traced a line down Cultrane’s belly and onto his pubis; tiny beads of blood sprang out along the thin, red line.

“The broader diameter of these needles cause tremendous pain on contact but effect the nervous system the same as their tinier counterparts. Thirteen of them are inserted here, here, here and here.” Jack smiled coldly, gently pricking the needle into the areas he’d described above Cultrane’s erection, behind his balls and high up on the inside of each thick thigh. His splayed victim squirmed against the pillar.

“Jack, you’ve gone mad!” Cultrane cried, his fists clenched so tight he felt his fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands. The cloying fear was unendurable.

“Oh, Cully, its very effective. With these in place there is not only constant erection but periodic involuntary ejaculation. It doesn’t take to long to tame a difficult man when he has spilled his seed every fifteen minutes or so for several days, even after he has no more to spend. Imagine being tied, immobile and experiencing the pleasure of sex without contact even when you don’t want it. The pressure of unfading erection until you feel like you’ll go insane, and a puddle of your own sperm gathered beneath your feet.”

Destiny felt the flood which had begun in his balls racing toward release and he was being swept along with it. He lost control, cried out and threw his head back against the thick column as wad after wad of white cum blasted out of his lurching cock onto Jack’s ornamental robe and finally into a milky puddle on the floor.

Anders doubled over laughing at the big man. “Aaaahhh....you’ll be perfect, my friend. Imagine how much you’ll enjoy this.” He set the box of instruments on a small table he’d placed close to his victim and prepared to make the first insertion at the spot just above the root of Destiny’s drooling cock.

“No, Jack... NOOO!” The color drained from Cultrane’s face, leaving it dire and grey. Just as he felt the pressure of the needle against his flesh he heard the familiar ‘pop’ of the Derringer he’d tucked into his coat as they had left Jack’s flat.

Anders clutched his side, whirled around and cursed the figure that stood just inside the door. His legs buckled and he collapsed at Destiny’s feet.

“Billy! Thank God! Untie me and let’s get the hell outta here.”

“Sure thing, Marshal. Say, how come I always hafta get you outta spots you get yourself into?” Hollis chuckled.

“Jus’ lucky I guess. Now, hurry up.”

Together they released the other prisoners and then made their way out, dressed as they had been when they entered, but encountered no resistance from Wo Hung’s henchman. Later Destiny would learn that the guards were too busy capturing the wounded Caucasian imposter who’d murdered their Master and wrongfully taken his place. Anders was spirited away, as his slaves had been, to China where he would face the most severe punishment for his deed.

Destiny and Billy spent their last night in San Francisco luxuriating in Anders’ bathtub, eating his food and pleasuring each other in the big brass bed.

And, in the morning Cultrane went naked through the patches of bright sunlight that filtered through the light curtains to the front window and looked out again at te black carriage and the two agents waiting inside. He suspected that as soon as he and Billy vacated the rooms the agents would enter and before long any trace of Jack’s existence would be erased. It was time to leave.

The agents watched as Cultrane and his young companion descended the steps and climbed into the waiting hansom for the ride to the railway station. They appeared to be carrying nothing more than their ordinary baggage.

Inside the hansom, Billy smiled broadly at Cultrane and drummed his fingers on the top of the hatbox he held upon his lap. It was not unlike the dozen or so others they’d found in the attic space above Jack’s apartment, filled with the money he’d accumulated from his vice but had had no opportunity to use..

Destiny grinned back and soon they were both roaring with laughter.