I got off the plane at Bangkok, and it was first class treatment, all the way. I was met by a uniformed driver of an old, but beautiful Mercedes, and driven to a dated, but classy hotel — I imagined it was something special in the days when Thailand was “Siam” and the King was a “god”…. I walked on nothing but red carpet up to my room, and in a few minutes, my “friend” appeared, along with a complete “party entourage”… a few drinks, and well… I don’t remember anything until Monday morning, when the same driver appeared in my room, clearing his voice, in order to wake me. I was on the bed, naked, there was blood everywhere, and, when I tried to move, my ass told me that at least part of that blood was mine. My cock hurt, my ass hurt. We won’t go on about anything above the waist, because by comparison, it was infinitesimal.
An hour, 10 cigarettes, a shower, and at least a quart of coffee later, and I was “kinda” ready to depart. My faithful driver had gathered and packed my things. God, I loved this man, naked, he ignored my state… dressed, he smiled and treated me like royalty. He even brought me a pillow to sit on, and gave it to me to take on the plane.
I was in too much pain to really care about whatever it was I was carrying across into Tokyo at this point. Honestly, whatever it was, I hoped it brought the death penalty, if I got caught. I went through customs, honestly expecting them to find shit in my overnight bag, which they did not, but in processing my passport, they “flagged” me just as a “test case” I was told, because I had been to Thailand for such a short visit, and, if I wouldn’t mind (not that it would go differently if I did) the Government of the Emperor of Japan should like me to assist them in their attempts to regulate illegal drugs coming into the country from Thailand.
Of course, I went with the white-gloved, black-uniformed officers. First, there was a simple X-Ray, which did not clear me of suspicion, it seemed. Then I was asked if I would submit right there to an internal probe of lower body cavities, and told that it would be best for everyone involved, and would speed my processing if I would do so. Of course, I complied. I then learned why there was sooo much blood on the bedsheets… when the officer first found the end of whatever it was that was up my ass, it was attached to more, and still more of the same sort of nitryl bag, each containing 250 grams of cocaine. The total number of bags… 100. —25 kilos of the stuff… 50 lbs…. crammed up my ass, into all 3 of my large intestines… When the officer was finished, although I could see my life “in deep shit” — pun fully intended, I could not stop thanking him for relieving me of the pain I had been in.
Within the hour, I was in Tokyo City, Center Detention Facility, in a medical cell, feeling better than I had all day, and sleeping the sleep of the medicated. ”Mista Ceffalo” a Japanese Voice insisted…”MISTA CEFFAALO”, and I opened my eyes to the most beautiful man I had ever, or would ever see… He who would become My Lord and Master. The voice, however, was not his… nothing so insisting or annoying would ever pass his lips… no, if My Lord Yashi had wanted my attention that day, he would have cracked his cane across my back.
Although I was barely aware of the man standing next to my Lord (yes already I was thinking to myself, “I would follow you anywhere, and do anything you bid me to do, Master”), he made himself known again, “Mista Ceffalo, My client wishes to make you a very reasonable offer for something you have.” Slowly, my eyes left those of the towering beauty whose head was poised directly above mine, giving me a “poor thing” kinda stare, and I looked with confusion on the small, rotund man, who was evidently the attourney for this prince, or god, or whatever he was. I began, “Pardon me, gentlemen, but I’m afraid you have been misled, I have absolutely nothing in this entire world. Not even enough money to get home to America, but I think your Emperor is going to foot the bill for that one, because I think I’m being deported.”
It was then that my Lord first spoke to me. ”Let’s get you out of here, first, and into some more comfortable accomodations.” At that he took his large right hand, and tossed my hair, making it stay back out of my eyes. ”There, that’s better.. You have beautiful eyes, Mr. Ceffalo, and it is the weakness of my race to be infatuated with hair such as yours.” He ran his hand through my dirty-blonde hair once more, smiling a genuine smile this time. ”Mr. Ichinosi, please deal with matters here, I’ll be taking Mr. Ceffalo with me.” and that was that… no room for discussion, no wheelchair, no police to stop him from taking me, he just scooped me up in his massively strong arms, and all I could do was wrap my arms around his neck, and enjoy the ride… pretty much what I’ve been doing ever since.
He laid me in the backseat of his Limo, and he sat opposed, facing the rear. He spoke a few soft words to his driver, and I wondered for an instant if his driver was as nice as mine was. The driver made a few phone calls, and we were on our way. We stopped in front of a grande old hotel in the older part of Tokyo, and I was thinking, “Oh, no, not THIS AGAIN”.. but this hotel was still at 5 stars… she never lost a single one… My Lord and Master gathered me up, and carried me inside to the elevator, where his driver turned the key to go past the 24th floor. The top 3 floors belonged to My Lord.
The Elevator opened to a beautiful display of Samurai Armor and Swords, and that is forever how I would think of My Master… a Samurai Lord. At a whisper, his driver ran ahead, and turned down the bed in one of the three bedrooms. At another, he went into the master bath, and ran a warm, not hot bath, for me. My Lord lay me down on the dressing couch, and without a word, or any resistance from me, disrobed me completely, then carried me into the bath, depositing me in it so gently, that I never felt the bottom of the tub. ”Lay back, Mr. Ceffalo, and relax, I have a physician on the way, and Mr. Ichinosi will be here soon with the medical information from your little holiday’s eventful return. I will spare no expense on your comfort or care, at least for the time being. We can talk of other things once you are, returned to your sovereign self again, shall we say, Mr. Ceffalo? In the meantime, may I get you something to drink? You probably shouldn’t eat for now, anyway.”
I was totally hypnotized by his deep and mellow voice. He appeared to be just another Asian kid, maybe 20 or so, dressed in the best suit his daddy’s money could buy, but I knew that wasn’t right… This was a real man standing here in the bathroom with me. This wasn’t his daddy’s penthouse, it was HIS…. All of this running through my mind, made a noticeable delay before I even began to think of an answer to his question, which made me seem stupid, no doubt..
“Are you alright, Mr. Ceffalo?”
“Y-y-y-es, Sir, well, no, but, yes, could I have a diet coke?”