Tea with the Prince

When Heinrich brought me out to China with him on his adviser tour, I was given a professor position at the University of Nanking, and we lived together as partners. I’d almost completely forgotten that I was once an American with free reign of my life. I even was more used to my German name, Wilhelm, now than the name I’d been given, William. And the Toliver surname never was used anymore. I was documented as Wilhelm Krentz, Heinrich’s son. For social purposes the father and son relationship was established. Only a few of the Chinese servants knew I slept in Heinrich’s bedroom, under him or that sometimes he lashed me to a pillar, flogged me, and then fucked me still tied to the pillar.

We were believable as father and son, I suppose, if you considered that Heinrich had been quite young when I was born. We were both Teutonic blonds, qualified for the master race. And qualified in more ways than hair color too. Both of us were blue-eyed and of strong, handsome features. Our body styles were different—his tall, solid, muscular, hung, and mine more lithe and trim and on the shorter side, but we were similar enough for me just to be considered to favor my mother more than my father.

That he was muscular, hung, virile, and vigorous was enough to keep me satisfied with the third German Nazi Party member who had virtually owned me for the last eight years. At twenty-seven, I was lucky to have a god of a man of forty-four, like Heinrich, serving as my protector and master.

His manner changed when I said I’d miss him. In some ways I was more master of him than he of me. I could arouse him quickly, and as I lay there, naked, reaching for my half-hard cock, and giving him a “come hither” look, I could see his resolve on leaving me melt. He had fucked me twice after we had awakened that morning—more times the previous night—as if he couldn’t pull away from me and leave me here in Nanking.