Page 160 of Roberto

After the first occasion, I told my father not to do it again, or I wouldn’t drop by anymore.

When it happened a second time, I kept my word: I stopped coming to Sunday dinner.

I got plenty of angry texts and phone calls from my father – and a few from my mother trying to guilt me into coming back – but I stuck to my guns.

Besides, I had a lot ofotherthings to do instead.

Burning the candle at both ends began to take its toll.

As a result, my grades in graduate school suffered.

Then the investment bank offered me a paying job.

It wasn’t nearly enough to live on in Hong Kong – not above the poverty line, anyway – but I was still being subsidized by my father. Because of his monthly deposits into my bank account, I had a beautiful apartment and stylish clothes.

I took the job and quit school, which gave me more time to pursue my true passions at night.

However, I didn’t tell my father about graduate school.

I figured I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

Within a few months, I met a handsome single guy at one of the fetish parties. He was just a few years older than me and loved tying me up.

In the privacy of his apartment, he brought me to orgasm after orgasm with my hands and feet bound.

I finally felt happy and fulfilled.

In fact, I began throwing myownparties. With the money I received every month from my family – and support from a few rich friends – I would rent out a loft on the weekend and transform it into a fetish wonderland full of whips and chains and leather things…

And rope.

Always plenty of rope.

Ilovedit. Ilovedmaking my desires into reality where others like me could play.

In fact, people started telling me, “Your parties are the best I’ve ever gone to. Too bad you can’t do this full-time.”

Yeah…

Too bad I can’t do it full-time…

67

Ihad been hosting parties for five months when my father’s thugs came to my day job.

I was sitting at my cubicle, reading an analysis of Hong Kong stock market trends, when my mild-mannered manager came over to me. His face was pale behind his round glasses.

“What’s wrong?” I asked in alarm.

“These… gentlemen want to have a word with you,” he wheezed.

I looked behind him to see two men in black suits and sunglasses. The visible tattoos on their necks and hands immediately gave them away as triad thugs.

I felt a jolt of terror, afraid that I was about to be kidnapped again –

But then I realized ifthatwere going to happen, they would have grabbed me in a parking lot, not come to my place of work.

My face burned with shame as I realized my father had sent them.

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