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From: gentclub@hotmail.com (Stroker Ace)
Subject: Beyond Chiang Mai - A Bangkok slaver story - Chap 2 - NC, mf
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Beyond Chiang Mai
A Bangkok Slaver Story
WARNING!
Contains sex and violence forced upon a woman by both male
and females. The story is for mature adults who can
maintain a distinction no matter how vague, between reality
and fiction. It is intense. You have been warned.
(c) 1997, Stroker Ace
Beyond Chiang Mai
Chapter -- 2, Hospitality
A maze of crowded corridors, escalators, lines, security,
customs. With my one bag, rumpled and bleary eyed, the maze
spits me out in a big crowded room. Heathrow, one of the
busiest airports in the world. An hour later, I am still
wondering around, bouncing from one British Airways counter
to another, trying to find someone who knows more than just
selling tickets. Bodwell's handwritten note, ridiculously
short, had given her name. A Roxanne Bodwell working for
British Airways, stationed in London. Then he went on about
how sweet a girl she is. Born in 1960. Had a torrid love
affair with an American pilot. Had a daughter by him but
never married. He was not the family type. One evening he
went out for a beer and never came back. That turned her
off men. She dedicated herself to Sarah, her daughter. He
included a picture of his girls. Roxanne stood beaming, her
arm around Sarah, amidst long afternoon shadows. The grass
was a rich green. Proud Sarah wore a soccer uniform, I
could make out the letters St. Agatha in script across a
still flat chest. Her knee pads were stained with grass. I
imagined her sliding on that thick grass. Did she score?
I patted my shirt pocket to check if the picture was
still there.
Finally a supervisor, a woman with a pleasant round face
referred me to a Mr. Chambers. "He is the stew boss.
Nothing happens to a stewardess with out it first going
through him. Upstairs, terminal 4." It took another hour
to find his office.
Chamber's office was more like a closet, overflowing with
manila folders stuffed with papers. Even the old PC on his
desk was nothing more than a stand for more folders.
Outside his office, was a clunky old copier. All around men
and women in British Airways blue, hurried from one door to
another. Some towed the mandatory suitcase on wheels,
others carried more folders.
On his door, a sign proclaimed, Mr. R. Chambers, Manager
- Flight Attendant Operations. A tall man with look you
associate with the British middle class. Large bottom, dark
hair. Chambers scribbled something and handed it to a slim
brunette, her hair in a tight bun. I squeezed against the
wall to let her by.
"Who are you? How did you get up here. This employees
only, old man."
I must have looked a fright after the all night flight.
I introduced myself and ask for his help.
"What did you say her name was? Roxanne Boswell? You do
have her employee number?"
"Bodwell. Roxanne Bodwell. I told you I don't have much
information about her. Just that she worked here a year
ago."
"Mr. Chambers, excuse me, flight 708 is down one member.
The ditz is stuck in traffic and her flight boards in 15
minutes." I turned to see a well dressed, middle age
woman. She stood out by wearing an office suit rather than
the typical stewardess uniform.
"Oh dear. What shall I do.. I must reassign someone."
he dived into the stacks of folders, then remembering me,
raised his head. "Miss Stepford would you help our American
friend, here. He is looking for a Boswell, Roxanne, while
take care of this little Dunkirk.
"Bodwell."
"Yes, of course, Mr. Chambers." She offered her hand and
a quick smile. She had the look of a contented woman.
Happy with her job, her weight, her looks. Maybe she had
harder times and was just more appreciative.
I followed her back to her office explaining everything.
Her office was even smaller yet somehow less custerphobic,
actually rather pleasant. Like her, the office was
immaculate. Everything in its place. Only a phone and
computer sat on the desk. A plant thrived on the small
bookcase. Miss Margaret Stepford listened attentively.
"Yes, I remember Miss Bodwell. The disappearance was
quite a shocker. Are you with the police?"
"No. I am a friend. A friend of the family."
"I am sorry, I am prohibited from divulging personal
information. You do understand." She stood. "Now if you
will excuse me."
"Why yes. Thank you for your time, Miss Stepford." I
picked up my bag, shook her hand and left. So much for my
detective career. All I wanted to do is find a hotel and
sack out.
Making my way back, I meet Chambers in the hall. "Was
Margaret of any assistance?" Apparently the panic had
passed.
"Oh, Miss Stepford? Unfortunately she was unable to give
me any information. It seems that it is restricted to law
enforcement agencies."
"That is unfortunate. Sorry we could not have been of
more help."
"Well you did everything you could. I will just catch
some sleep and get a fight back." I headed off down the
hall.
"Good God man!" It was Chambers. "Have you no
backbone?"
"What can I do?"
"Oh you poor Yank. So docile. Too much the wimp." He
put his hand on my shoulder. He felt like my father. "How
do you ever get the lass? Care to have a spot of fun?"
"Er.. What do you mean?"
"You came all this way for some information. It is only
right that we help you. You do like women don't you?"
"Yes. Love `em."
"Good lad. I am feeling benevolent to you and if you
don't mind, I could do with a spot of fun myself. Are you
game?"
We had retraced my path, we were back at Miss Stepford's
office. Without so much as a knock he barged in, reaching
back to drag me in by my suitcase strap.
"Don't dodle. You will never get anywhere that way."
Then to Margaret, "Put down the phone."
"Lucy, I will ring you back," she hung up the phone. "Is
there something amiss, Mr. Chambers?"
"I would say so, Margaret." Chambers approached the
sitting woman, not stopping until he was directly in front
of her. Her chair slid backwards until hitting the wall.
Still he advanced. His legs pushed in-between hers forcing
her legs as far apart as her skirt would allow. "Very much
amiss."
"Oh my, Mr. Chamber's, not here. Not now."
"Err. Perhaps I should be going. I don't want to cause
any fuss."
"Stay." To Miss Stepford, he said, "I gave you a simple
order, and this nice man tells me that you refused. Is that
right, Margaret?"
"I can explain.."
"I am not looking for explanations. Is that right,
Margaret?"
Margaret had to crane her head back, looking almost
straight up to see his face. Her eyes were glued to his,
while a hand flapped in the air. It took me a moment to
understand.she wanted the door shut.
"Not in front him, Roger. I must insist upon it." Her
hand pushed against his belt buckle, but he didn't budge.
"I call it off, Roger. This is going too far."
"That is not an option, my dear. You see, I have decided
to expand our little diversions. Remember, sweetie, it was
I that took you out of the soup lines in East London. It
was I that gave you this position. And I can take it away.
But I would hate to do something so rash. For I love you
Maggie." He reached down, cupping her chin in his hand.
His knuckles gently rubbed her cheek.
Margaret's eyes were misting.
"But my sweet cake, you must mind your lessons. You will
show our fine friend here, how satisfying British
hospitality can be. I am placing you at his complete
disposal. Complete. Do you understand, Margaret?"
Her head fell, then rose. A delayed nod. "See Yank,
women like someone to take the reins. You are too docile."
He repeated it again. I had been branded `a nice guy'
since kindergarten but this was the first time I have been
called docile. "Am I right, Margaret?"
Her face pressed against his belt buckle. She was
gripping the armrests, knuckles white. By stepping to the
left, and bending down to place my bag on the floor, I could
see her white panties.
"Yes, Mr. Chambers."
He cupped a breast in a hand. "Here take this."
Felling awkward, I slowly squeezed behind the desk and
placed my hand on her ample tit. Her breast rose and fell
with each breath. Her blouse was thin, the bra lacy at the
top. That look of contentment had changed, it could be
anticipation or resignation, her eyes golden amber, mouth
panting.
"Feel it. Nice isn't it. Not like those little tarts.
Feel the weight. A 36D. All natural too. Can't beat
mother nature, I always say. I am giving you the day off,
Maggie. I won't stand for any complaints. Now give
Reginald your beeper. My number is scratched on the
cover," he explained to me. "Any problems - beep me
immediately. And I will check in with you, say every hour
or two? I do want a detail report. I like to hear
everything."
++++
It was a tiny flat, but just outside of London must have
been expensive. Maggie and I had taken the underground to
Kenton the walked the few blocks apologizing all the way but
not explaining. "I am so sorry you had to see that. He is
not like that. Really. He can be such an understanding
man"
Maggie pulled the curtains back the room filled with
light. The power has been turned off, "no heat either, I am
afraid." The apartment was like a museum. The calendar a
year old, clocks stopped at 1:13. The furniture was still
in place. Travel brochures were all over the coffee table.
Snow covered mountains of Japan, topless girls in Bora Bora,
the native boats of Thailand, the markets of Singapore.
"Insurance companies move so slowly, with a
disappearance. If they don't have a body they wait a year
before settling the estate. British Airways asked me to be
liaison to the insurance agency, that's why I know a little
of the case."
"Life insurance?"
"Just the company policy. But she took all the
electives. Worth five hundred thousand pounds. By law, it
all goes to her daughter's estate. If the daughter is not
found by her eighteenth birthday then it all goes to her
nearest living relative."
"Who is..?"
"A Mr. Bodwell Sr. in New Hampshire."
"So if Sarah turned up someplace she would inherit a
fortune?"
"Plus the interest. But if Roxanne turns up, Middlesex
Insurance is off the hook."
"Run it by me again."
"I told you everything in the tube." Maggie glanced at
the computer printout. "Roxanne was one of our Senior
Attendants. Won the attendant of the year award, twice.
Did not miss a day of work for three years straight.
Volunteered for the Asia/Pacific flights, they are the
hardest you know. Long hours, but she would work flights
for other girls, on her days off. On school holidays she
would use her free air miles to holiday with Sarah. She
showed me pictures of the Grand Canyon and the Pyramids.
They were going to see the ruins in Thailand last year. The
funny thing is the computer has no record of tickets to
Bangkok. I could swear that is what she told me."
The room was comfortable, the furniture new, hardly used,
as if she never spent much time here. Her closet was full
of her uniforms, and coats. Not many casual clothes. I sat
on the bed, looking through her nightstand. Several
paperbacks, but nothing special. No pictures of a
boyfriend, no condoms in her drawer, not even a vibrator.
On the dresser were pictures of her daughter, her parents, I
recognized Mr. Bodwell.
The beeper went off. I used Maggie's cellular to return
Chambers call. "There is nothing here, I am just sitting on
the bed thinking about what to do next."
"Where is Maggie?"
"In the other room. She has been a great help so far.
It is not her fault that there is nothing to find."
"My friend you are helpless. What would you do without
me?" Chambers asked. To make him happy, I put Maggie on the
phone. She looked worried, didn't say much just, "If you
wish." Then later, "Do you really want this?"
She had a purpose now. Chambers had taken the reins.
She took her jacket off, tossing it at the foot of the bed.
I was a little slow on the uptake not jumping to my feet
until the white blouse fell away. "No, no, Miss. Put that
back on, I am married. I couldn't. Just couldn't."
Maggie stepped out of the wool skirt. Her body was all
curves, soft and comfortable to my eyes. Her dark triangle
just visible through stretched white panties. "You like
women? Don't you like me?"
"It's not that. Of course you please me. It's just
that. Well.."
"Take me Reginald. Now, here. Do me anyway you like. I
can take it rough or sweet. I will be good to you. I
will." Her breast pressed to my chest. "Maggie, I like you
but.."
She started to cry, "Screw me, please. Take my bum, if
you wish." She wiggled seductively against me. I began to
awaken. It had been so long. Then it dawned on me. "He
told you to, didn't he?"
"Please. I am to take your come, before he calls back."
She dropped to her knees working my zipper with both hands.
I sprung free, eager, erect and growing, finding her mouth,
bobbing against the roof of her mouth until her cheeks caved
in around my manhood. "Too much, I'm coming!" Abruptly I
pushed her backwards taking her on the floor. Later she
found that her panties had been ripped, but I can't remember
tearing them. The bra slid up, ending dangling backwards
around her neck. I was right, Maggie was a soft and
comfortable, ramming as hard as I wished, always padding. I
came quickly, repeated waves of pleasure. It had been too
long.
I collapsed on my back. Spent. Having shot as much as I
have ever done into her now slopping hole. Maggie placed
the phone in my hand. Chambers picked it up on the first
ring.
"Well?"
"I fucked her." What else could I say. "I fucked her."
It sounded good. "I fucked her," I laughed."
He was laughing too. "Was the bitch any good?"
"Dam fine!"
"That's a good lad. You are getting the hang of it. Do
the bitch over the weekend just fill me in on the details.
Oh Reginald, one more thing, do her bum. She needs the
training."
++++
Mid morning Sunday, walking through the Scottish
countryside up a tree lined path, Maggie on my arm, the
boarding school just up ahead. Maggie clenched her fingers,
they rested in my back pocket. It is funny what sets you
off sometimes. I gave her a nudge with my shoulder, a bump
towards the low stone wall. "Not here, anyone could stroll
by," she objected but I pulled her over the stones.
Laughter came from the road. We stood stiffly, until
thinking quickly she kissed me, as two young girls rode by
giggling all the time on their bicycles.
Bending her over, Maggie braced herself against the wall.
I pulled pantyhose to her calves and threw the plaid skirt
up. We had become lovers in Roxanne's abandoned flat. Her
accessibility edging me on. The limit was there. It had
been there all my life. School, college, my few encounters
and certainly with Colleen. I just hadn't found it yet with
Margaret. All afternoon I fucked her. When bone dry, we
went into town ate and came back refreshed. Each time I
pushed harder, banged at her cunt until I hurt. Trying for
the limit. Not finding one, only proof that I must go
further. The flight to Scotland was a welcome rest. But
the edge still called.
"Spread your legs, Maggie. B-bitch." And she did it!
Never had I called a girl, bitch to her face before.
Empowered, I tried again. "Strip, Mag. bitch."
"Anyone could come along, it is not safe here."
Ahh, at last a limit. It had to be. I tried again, "How
long has it been? Two, three hours? We should call
Chambers, give him an update."
One hand went to her buttons, but I wanted it all.
"Strip. Take it all off!"
"Shhh. I will, I will."
But I couldn't wait. I plunged into her, she barely able
to brace her hands on the wall. I had to stop and drop my
pants, before ramming into her again. She was tight, not
yet fully wet, I worked at her going deeper into her soft
folds with every thrust, then I was in, her juices flowing.
My endurance had grown but the thought of banging her
without a care of her comfort, not even a moment of
foreplay, just did me. My back arched, hard against her ass
I pushed and rocked and emptied into her.
Collapsing on her back, I forced those splendid 36D's
into the cold, mossy stones. Up the path the wrought iron
arch above the gate, declared for students and parents
alike, St. Agatha's Academy for Girls.
"Better freshen up before we see the headmistress."
++++
Mrs. Eleanor Payne, Dean of Women's Affairs, in gold leaf
script painstakingly brushed on the frosted glass pane. You
knock at a door like this. All around were rich dark woods,
heavy forest green drapes framed the window. The
secretary's desk was vacant so I knocked and waited.
"You will find it open."
The room was encircled by books in cases of more polished
dark wood. Behind her desk a large window overseeing a lush
green lawn with a huge oak tree. Everywhere there were more
books, on her desk, even on the chairs. All except one. A
straight backed uncomfortable looking chair of the same dark
timber. The chair supported a thin girl her back towards
us. I had to look twice for even bare, her straight curve-
less form was that of a boy. Folded neatly over thick
volume on the desk were her school's plaid skirt and white
blouse. Only her bra and panties remained though the white
panties had fallen to the crescent, at the bottom of her
derriere.
"Mrs. Kelman, you will kindly refrain. And who do you
thing you are, the Queen Mum? To be charging into my
quarters without so much as a knock."
"Excuse me Mam, Mr. Reginald Bodwell and my wife
Margaret," I improvised. "Sarah's uncle, we called
earlier."
"Yes of course, I was just expecting my secretary.
Please excuse me, while I administer to this wayward
juvenile. Kindly turn around young man. Mrs. Bodwell, if
you are prone to fainting spells you may take a chair."
The juvenile waited, her back straight as the cane that
Dean Payne swung. Practice strokes at first to get the arc,
for the dark glass of the bookcase made a perfect mirror.
Then swoosh, a crack that only skin can make. On the only
fat that this poor girl had on her body, her ass. Four more
times, with each a whimper, but never a cry.
"I pray that you have learned your lesson dear, for the
cane awaits those who forget."
"A bloom of a woman must remember there is virtue in
chastity and temptation resides in both sexes. You will
spend the remainder of the weekend studying in your room.
Wait outside. Mrs. Kelman will escort you back to your
dormitory."
"Yes Mrs. Payne." Bent at the waist with head down, tiny
budding tits barely filling training cups, she pulled up her
skirt. "I shan't forget." She scampered out, pulling on
her shirt as she slipped by.
"A real shame, that. So much promise since she arrived,
but she suffers from a reoccurring attraction to her school
mates. She thinks she is smart but I will catch her at it
yet." Dean Payne placed the cane among the others in a rack
on the wall. I read the polished brass plaque, `Spare the
cane and spoil the child.'
"But that is not what you wanted to discuss. How can I
help?"
If I had not seen the way she swung that stick, I would
have thought Eleanor Payne to be frail. Her white hair was
in a tight bun. She wore pearls and a navy full length
skirt.
"It is just a shame about Sarah. She was, is, truly St.
Agatha caliber," she revealed. "I pulled her dossier..
Respectable grades in literature and history but she was
admirable in football and gymnastics."
"She liked to perform then?," I asked.
"Not at all. Sarah is a extremely shy girl. Shy to a
fault. Why I remember the alma-mater football game, she was
playing left wing. Good ball control for her age. She was
advancing when the announcer mentioned her name. Sarah
froze." Eleanor shut the folder. "We lost four to three.
Too shy of a lass."
"Her mother and I hardly spoke. Like the other parents
she picked up Sarah at the end of the semester, we talked a
little about her grades. She just said they were off to see
the orient. It sounded exciting," she replied, when I
asked. "Shannon, the girl that was in here was Sarah's
roommate. They were a wee bit too close, if you ask me."
Escort Shannon to her dorm, but watch her like a hawk.
She has a bad streak, that one does," Dean Payne called
after us as we headed across the green.
"How old are you, Shannon? Fifteen, I guess." Margaret
asked. "You have beautiful hair."
She did. Unruly dirty blonde hair that spread across her
shoulders. Her body short and flat as a board, her hair was
perhaps the only feminine thing about her. That and her
mouth. Wide and sensuous, but it was not sounding very
feminine.
"Yeah. That bloody old hag. She lives for every chance
to beat on me. Payne can't stand the thought of love."
"Oh you poor child," Margaret reached out for her.
"I thought this was an all girl school," I wanted to
know.
Shannon stopped, looking first at me, then Margaret. She
was searching, looking for trust, dying to get back at Dean
Payne.
"It is. I see that look. Don't make it out to be dirty
or something. Its just in this bloody cold prison, a little
friendship goes a long way."
"You and Sarah were roommates?"
"Yeah. I know what you are thinking. And yes. There it
is. Go tell the old hag if you want. Get me kicked out, I
don't care. We were friends, soul mates. Trying to get
through the night together. I miss her." She looked away
then started walking again. "Said she was going to holiday
in Bangkok for two weeks. Promised to bring me back a
Buddha. I miss her. "
"Tell her that Shannon said `hey'," she yelled from her
dormitory steps. We were making our way to the iron gate.
A quickie behind the wall was out of the question this time,
a man was coming up the path.
"Roger!" Margaret pulled her hand from mine and ran,
swinging feet up, into Chambers arms. They were still
kissing when I reached him.
"Was my Maggie a good girl?" His eyes never left her.
"Did you take her bum, like I asked?"
"Yeah, the best. Never got around to her ass, though.
Not her fault, just liked her pussy, that's all.
"That is too bad. Your loss, old man, but I am taking
her back. My girl and I are going to holiday in Edinburgh
for a few nights."
+++
Alone in my tiny hotel room I read the message again.
Thoughts of Margaret's milky white skin floated through my
head. I missed her already. Her full figured beauty, that
round lovely face. A full body just handed over, nothing
held back, given full at the word of her man. I missed her
love. Not for me but for Chambers. A woman in love. There
was nothing left to do but dream of her. My reservation had
been made, a British Airways flight to Bangkok. I read the
note again. It was from Colleen. She was thrilled of my
news, captivated by visions of reward money from Old Man
Bodwell. Falling asleep, dreamy images of Colleen blurred
into a smiling and submissive Margaret. The typewritten
note fluttered to the floor.
`Bodwell thinks I am on to something. I will be on
the next flight to Bangkok. Don't want you to screw
it up. Ha ha. Meet me at the airport and be on time.
- Colleen'
---
continued in chapter 3
Stroker Ace
gentclub@hotmail.com
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