========
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: NEW: PARKER28 (Bangkok Slaver) 1/3 nc
From: an210088@anon.penet.fi
Date: Sat, 27 Apr 1996 07:02:25 UTC
A BANGKOK SLAVER'S STORY
By Parker
WARNING: This story is kind of strong. It features scenes of
non-consensual sex and other sordid activities of a similar
vein. If this repulses or disgusts you, read no further. I
mean it!
NOTE: This story is a sequel of sorts to my own story
DOCTOR'S ORDERS (Parker #5) and Marlissa's two Bangkok
Slaver stories. I will not repost those stories, but others
might. Many thanks to Marlissa for (a) allowing me to use
her characters and (b) for the helpful comments.
Copyright 1996 by Parker (except for the bits that belong to
Marlissa). Feel free to distribute (unchanged of course), but
please be discrete.
=================================================================
A drop fell...
"Damn."
Too late, the cop reached back with a clumsy, black-gloved
hand and tried to brush away the icy drop as it beaded
momentarily and then trickled a numbing path down his back.
Muttering under his breath, he looked up to see another drop
congeal on the end of an icicle on the doorjamb above his head.
The icicle shimmered a garish red and blue under the flashing
police light, as it melted, weeping hysterically in the
unseasonably warm February night. Bored and tired - too much
overtime - the cop reached up and knocked it away, sniffing as it
cracked loose and shattered on the concrete porch.
"Who's in charge here?"
Startled, the cop looked up. The speaker was a man of medium
height, with dark black hair and ice grey eyes.
The cop frowned. "Detective Lomann," he grunted. "Who are
you?"
The black haired man had already pulled out some
identification and was flipping it open: "Agent Harrison
Crawford, FBI".
The cop swallowed.
He'd heard of Agent Crawford.
Everyone had.
"Go right in, sir." He stepped aside. "Lomann said to send
you right downstairs." The FBI agent slipped the identification
back into to his pocket and entered the house.
Behind and above him, another icicle began to weep.
It was in the basement.
All of it.
First and foremost, the body... laid out on its back, half
stuck in dried blood to the hard, gore-streaked linoleum. Agent
Crawford crouched down beside it, his grey eyes coldly tracing
the precise straight red lines which criss-crossed the corpse's
exposed chest, each one representing a meticulously shallow
incision; the blue and red ligature marks and crusty, ripped skin
which encircled the corpse's leg and ankles; the open, lipless
mouth, frozen in mid-wail, dull teeth and yellowing, blood-
flecked cheek bones exposed through the strip torn flesh of the
lips and face.
The man hadn't died quickly.
"Looks like it was done by an expert."
Crawford looked up. The speaker was a short, heavy man with
a thick, greying moustache.
Detective Lomann.
The FBI agent looked back down at the body as a police
camera flash froze the corpse's image in celluloid. "It was," he
answered, his voice harsh and bleak. "A doctor."
Another flash.
"It's her, then?" Lomann was almost afraid to ask.
Crawford nodded.
"Yeah." He got to his feet. "Does our friend here have a
name?"
The Boston PD detective checked his notes. "Donald Linsky.
Thirty four. Unmarried. The neighbours called it in a couple of
house ago. Their kid knocked a ball into the yard and looked in
the window." The FBI agent looked over at the window, curtains
now closed, imagining the sight which had greeted the unfortunate
child. Knowing what he knew about who had done this, he suspected
that the drapes had been left open on purpose.
"How long's he been dead?"
"At least a few days, is my guess. Forensics is on the way."
The cop looked down at the body. "So it looks familiar?"
Crawford grimaced. "It's her." He looked around the
basement. "Any connection to my... uh, work? "
Lomann nodded at a doorway at the back of the room.
Crawford scanned the room. This clinched it as far as he was
concerned. She was involved.
Dr. Jacqueline Astor.
The grey, unfinished concrete walls were studded with hooks
and braces, each one draped with chains and collars and other
less benign instruments of restraint. A rack had been placed on
the opposite wall, boasting dozens of different kinds of sex
toys, ranging from dildoes and but plugs to a massive, menacing
vibrator. A large, yellow stained mattress sat on the floor in
the centre of the room. A slender chain ran up from an O-ring in
the concrete beside the mattress and ended in a leather dog
collar.
Crawford glanced over his shoulder at the cop. "What did you
say this guy did?"
The cop checked his notes. "Insurance."
"Figures."
He turned and began to walk around the room.
"I figured this was more your line," Lomann called after
him.
Crawford ignored him, his eyes taking in the room: the
small, plastic dog dish on the floor beside the mattress...
His line...
"...and the pictures."
Of course.
Crawford reached in and pulled a sheaf of photographs out of
a manila folder. He shuddered slightly as he quickly scanned
them: a tall, thin redhead with wild hair and small breasts,
crouched down with her legs spread wide, grinning horribly at the
cum dripping out of her gaping pussy... the same girl, a closeup
of her heavily made up face, her tongue licking sperm off her
upper lip... the redhead on all fours in a dog collar, smiling at
the camera while an unidentified male kneeled behind her, his
penis half inserted into her vag... no, her anus... the redhead,
tears streaming down her face, as she shoved the monster dildo
into her gaping pussy...
The FBI agent mentally compared the pictures with the ones
he'd seen of his sister, Nikki, after she'd disappeared. Similar
in many ways, but... He sighed and returned the pictures to the
envelope. He didn't need to see any more.
"Well?" Lomann looked at him expectantly.
Crawford shook his head. "No. The girl isn't her work. I
don't know where she came from, but I don't think Astor was
involved. At least, not with the pictures."
Lomann frowned. "How do you...".
"It just isn't. Linsky - the body - was her. The girl
wasn't. I don't know how Astor got involved."
"OK."
"No sigh of the girl, I take it?"
The policeman shook his head.
Crawford glanced around. "Anything else?"
"Yeah." Lomann walked over to the desk and picked up a piece
of paper. "This."
The FBI agent took the paper. A letter... from someone named
Jackson. In Bangkok. A polite, carefully worded refusal of a
business proposition and a number for local assistance.
Crawford stared. He recognized the number.
He'd recently traced it to an empty, recently vacated office
in downtown Boston. It *was* her.
He looked down at the letter.
But what was the connection with Astor?
Jackson.
Bangkok...
*****
*****
... scratches at the hurt that sent him home... purple heart...
...means nothing... seeing Danielle and little Cassie again... a
charred picture... (notsolittleanymore) ... smiling blonde
faces... picket fences, blowing in the wind...
(neverforgetnever)
Careful drunken walk... something... something smells...
familiar... burning hair (neverforgetthatsmell)... napalm...
burning... hair... burning... (never) drunken run... stumble...
...smiling blonde faces (lookslikehermother)... smiling blonde...
...young Sarah sobbed as her small pink tongue lapped...
(looksalotlikehermother)
no... not right... giggling fire lapps hungrily up the side of...
(neverforget)... smoke... burning smell...
(Neverforgetifiliveathousandyears)
Burning... twisting...
...lick her daughter's lips in wanton surrender... Danielle...
Cassie... (smilingblondelooks)
... smoke pouring out third story... smoke pouring... red blue
police lights bounce off walls... hoses... twisting...
(neverforgetif)
...Annie's head began rolling crazily about like a doll's...
Cassie's (nothatsnotrightnotcassienevercassie) small elfin face
was contorted in hurt....
smells... burning hair... (thatsmell...)
Danielle...
CASSIE!...
smiling blonde faces...
Annie leered, whorishly happy...
(looksalotlikehermother)
Mother and daughter had finally...
bright flames lick... look around in red blue night... crowd,
open mouthed, staring... Danielle's face leering whorishly in the
dancing firelight... (no) DANIELLE!...
BAM!
...their breasts bobbed up and down in unison as they squat-
fucked themselves...
DANIELLE...
(looksalotlikehermother)
(never)
daughter's servicing...
burning... burning...
... she too licked at her daughter's trim pink cunt...
burning...
Danielle...
...(neverforget)
Cassie... Sarah...
BAM!
blondesmilingfacesneverforgetif...
BAM!
I woke up.
The threadbare blanket was drenched in sweat and my heart
shuddered frantically in my chest.
Fuck.
That dream again. I hadn't had that dream in years, then
suddenly six months ago, it started up. I'd almost managed to
forget...
BAM!
"Mr. Jackson!"
Someone was pounding at my thin wooden door. From the sound
of it, they'd soon be knocking it in. I slipped out of bed and
into a shirt and pants. Not clean, but good enough to cover me
and soak away the worst of the sweat as I walked towards the
door. I was proud of myself. My breathing was steady and my hands
had almost stopped shaking by the time I got there.
It was one of Vopat's goons. No surprise there, I guess.
There aren't many people who refer to me as 'Mr' anything these
days. Vopat and his people are about it. Over the past few years,
I've supplied him with more than enough, well, product to earn a
little respect.
Yeah... that and fifty Baht will get me a beer at Candyland,
Vopat's club.
Which was where we were going.
Vopat wanted to meet.
It was only a little past noon, but Candyland was already
hopping. I don't think I've ever seen it closed. The tables were
filled with the usual crowd... local hoods and their bosses...
assorted mercenaries... drug smugglers... gun runners... foreign
businessmen involved in shady deals or just in the know... The
bar girls mingled and pranced about as they had been trained to
do, giggling and flirting, enticing the men to buy them drinks
and whispering lewd promises in their ears...
As I said, the usual.
I looked around. Vopat was at the bar. He gestured for me to
follow him into his office. I obeyed, thankful to leave the main
room as I caught a glimpse of Roxanne Bodwell - Annie, now - the
english stewardess I had kidnapped for Vopat. Together with her
teenage daughter Sarah, and Tam, Vopat's whore trainer, she had
been part of the hottest act in Joytown for over the last several
months. She was crouched down in front of a Japanese businessman
with her legs spread wide, running her hands obscenely up and
down the front of her body. I couldn't see her face, but I knew
she would be showing a whore's plastic smile
(...blondesmilingfaces...) as her fingers slid suggestively over
her half-covered tits before dropping down under the flimsy
panties and coming to rest on her well used pussy. There would be
no trace of the prim and proper english stewardess who had
arrived in Bangkok with her daughter just last spring. Apart from
her pale white skin, she was now just another Candyland bar slut.
The man reached down and slid a finger along her cheek. She
turned her head and, eyes closed, and on sucked it in, slowly
running her lips along it like it was the most delicious and
exciting thing she'd ever done.
Right.
I stopped at the door and looked around the club.
Sarah Bodwell - Annie's daughter - was nowhere to be seen.
The rumour mill had it that Vopat had sold her to Colonel Chou
for some fantastic amount. I wondered what Vopat was doing for a
main act these days now that the Bodwells were no longer
performing together.
Then it occurred to me: that's why I was here.
I glanced over.
Annie was now straddling the businessman's lap, slowly
gyrating her barely concealed crotch at him while running a hand
through her long, platinum blonde hair. I thought about my dream
(...neverforget...) for a moment and then shook my head.
She didn't look a bit like Danielle, I told myself.
Not at all.
I walked into the back room.
I had been right.
Vopat was looking for a new act.
"You like this one, Joe," he told me, more animated than I'd
ever seen him before. "Good job. Easy job for you."
I took a sip of my Klosters, stalling for time to think
things through. He'd outdone himself this time. Three girls. He
wanted three. And it sounded like he already had them lined up.
"Let me understand what you want," I told him. "You have a
line on three American girls. You've already arranged to have
them picked up at the airport. Everything's in place."
He nodded happily.
"And you want me to..." I left it dangling.
"Supervise, Joe. You a pro. See that it done right. Easy job
for you. I set it up. You make sure it goes right. Easy job."
It made sense, I guess.
It still worried me though that the job was coming together
like this. The few times I'd worked for Vopat before, he had just
told me what he'd wanted and I'd provided it to him. Simple. With
me in control of the job. Something was strange about this one.
He'd found out about the targets. He'd set it up. And now he
wanted me to follow through and finish the job. There was
something else going on here I didn't know about.
I decided to see how much he needed me. "50,000 Baht," I
told him, naming an outrageous amount. There was no way he'd
agree to that, but I just...
"Good." Vopat nodded. "We have a deal."
I sat for a moment, stunned, a cold sick feeling in my
stomach. 50,000 Baht? Just for supervising?
Something was wrong here.
Very wrong.
And I'd just agreed to do it.
Still grinning, Vopat shoved a manila file folder across the
desk at me. "Take a look, Joe. It happen next week. If you want
to make change...".
I took the folder and stood to leave the room.
I glanced around on my way out. Luckily, Annie and her
Japanese business man were nowhere to be seen.
Not that it mattered.
She looked nothing like Danielle.
I went through the folder in my room.
The three girls were a good catch. And an unusual one. Two
lawyers and a paralegal from a San Francisco law firm, Stanford
Fisher Lawrence. According to Vopat's information, they were on
their way to Hong Kong to set up a branch office - immigration
and that sort of thing; a booming business with 1997 swiftly
approaching - and were stopping off in Bangkok for a few days to
see the sites.
The oldest of the three was a woman Janice Stanford.
A partner at the firm.
Stanford?
I checked the file. Sure enough, her father, R. Terrance
Stanford III, was the founding member and senior partner in the
firm. According to the Vopat's informant, she was 29 years old
and had just been made a partner. I'm sure having a father as a
founding member didn't hurt.
The folder included a picture. She was tall... a redhead
according to the background information. High cheekbones and
large, intelligent eyes. The picture was in black and white, but
I guessed those eyes were green. Long legs and what appeared
through the conservative business suit to be large, well formed
breasts, made her a first rate catch for Vopat.
The other two were no less valuable.
Melissa Andersonn, a fresh faced law school graduate who had
just passed her bar exam (on the second try), had been hired by
Stanford Fisher Lawrence to work in their new Hong Kong office.
She was 24 years old, obviously of scandinavian descent, a tall,
willowy girl with light blonde hair and pale skin.
She'd do well at Vopat's.
The paralegal was the youngest of the three, a 23 year old
pale brunette named Amanda Green. She'd been with the firm for
three years, working as a secretary while taking some sort of
night school. She'd just been promoted to paralegal and, like
Melissa, was on her way to her first job in that capacity.
According to Vopat's information, she was 5'4" and weighed 105
lbs. The picture just showed her face. She had a soft, friendly
face with wide brown eyes under a cloud of soft curls. Another
beauty.
I put the folder down, lit up a Marlboro, and thought about
the situation. The girls were a real catch for Vopat. No doubt
about it. I could see why Vopat was so excited. But one thing
still bothered me: they would be missed. They were all employees
of a major U.S. law firm which was expecting them in Hong Kong
three days after Vopat planned to abduct them. Usually, I set
things up so that the girls I recruit will not be missed. Once,
I'd faked a bus crash in the jungle. Another time, I'd arranged
matters so that the husband believed that his wife had run off
with another man. Standard stuff.
But there was no way to do it with these girls. According to
Vopat's plan, they would arrive at the Bangkok airport and simply
disappear. Without a doubt, Bangkok would soon be seeing the
biggest police action in its history, probably even some sort of
international incident. I doubted that even Joytown would escape
scrutiny.
And I would be right in the middle of it.
Still...
I picked up the folder and started going through Vopat's
plan. If I was going to do it, I was going to do it right.
The pictures really hadn't done any of them justice.
I looked out over my newspaper, watching as the three women
walked into the terminal. Stanford, the redhead, was obviously
the leader of the group. With an imperious shake of her dark red
shoulder length hair, she directed the other two girls to grab
the luggage. Smugly, I noted that I had been right; her eyes were
green. Melissa and Amanda did as they were told. The blonde girl
slung a carry-on over her shoulder and tugged a large suitcase
along the floor behind her like a dog on a leash. The brunette
was even more loaded down.
"There he is. That way!" The redhead's voice, loud and
commanding, carried across the terminal to where I watched as she
noticed the man in the chauffeur's uniform carrying a sign which
read "Stanford". With only one light bag on her shoulder, the
redhead gestured for the other two girls to follow her as she
reached the Thai man and spoke a few words to him. He nodded and
led them out of the terminal towards the waiting limousine.
Vopat's limousine.
In the end, I changed almost nothing of Vopat's original
plan. Just a bit here and there. Vopat's driver was to pick the
targets up from the airport. The real driver had been knocked
unconscious and drugged. He would be waking up some time tomorrow
in his home with a hell of a hangover. We'd also left 20,000 baht
hidden under his mattress. He wouldn't find it, but no doubt the
cops would when they came looking. He knew nothing about the
kidnapping, but he'd have a hell of a time convincing the cops of
that after they found the cash.
That was one of my touches.
The air conditioner in the limousine was disconnected. The
girls would soon be taking advantage of the (working)
refrigerator and the ice cold bottled water. It had been drugged
and I figured the girls would be unconscious within an hour of
Vopat's limousine getting stuck in traffic. As it turned out, the
traffic was a little worse than we'd planned and it took almost
two hours for the limousine, with me following behind in my
nondescript mercedes, to get to Vopat's dockside warehouse. I
pulled in behind as two of Vopat's men slid the loading door
closed behind us.
The switch went smoothly. The girls were gagged, handcuffed
and moved to my car. At Vopat's instructions, Melissa and Amanda
were stuffed into the trunk and Janice ended up on the back seat
with a blanket covering her. I figured Vopat wanted to protect
the most valuable piece of merchandise, though I disagreed with
his choice. The redhead was stunning, but the blonde girl, with
her fair skin and firm breasts, was a gold mine. I shrugged as
the trunk closed shut on my unconscious passengers.
Vopat's property.
His choice.
Tam was waiting for me when I parked the mercedes in the
small garage in back of Vopat's club. The young Thai whore
trainer was dressed in her usual "welcome" outfit: tight, black
lycra skirt, black bikini top, five inch heels... she had even
added a pair of leather wristbands and a black collar. I almost
laughed. Vopat must have been springing for the S&M videos again;
she was such a caricature.
"You bring new girls, Joe?" she asked, her blue eyes almost
glowing with excitement. "Show me."
I just grunted.
There was no love lost between me and Tam.
I unlocked the trunk. Tam looked in and giggled at the sight
of the two american girls, lying unconscious, gagged and
handcuffed. She hated Americans, particularly the women. The
whore trainer reached down and fondled Melissa's light blonde
hair. "This one very beautiful," she told me. "Make lots of
friends." I grimaced, painfully aware of what kind of "friends"
Melissa would be making at Candyland. After a moment, Tam
straightened up and turned to me. "Bring girls into Vopat's
office," she ordered.
I started to object to her giving orders, but stopped.
No use.
I looked around for some help in transporting the girls, but
Tam just walked out of the garage and there was no one else in
sight. Sighing, I picked up the first girl, the blonde one, slung
her over my shoulder and carried her across the garage, through a
hallway and into Vopat's private office. She was moaning softly
through her gag by the time I got her there, so I took the
precaution of clipping her handcuffs to one of the small rings
hanging from the ceiling. Her eyes began to flutter open as I
turned to head back to the garage.
I hoisted the brunette from the car and retraced the path
into Vopat's office. By the time I entered the room, the blonde
girl was fully awake, and quickly becoming acquainted with her
new mistress. I stopped in the doorway for a moment, fascinated
at the sight.
Melissa was standing, fully extended, half on her toes as
the handcuffs forced her thin, pale wrists high above her head.
She had been wearing her light blonde hair pulled back in a tight
bun, but Tam had pulled this loose and it now fell light and
flaxen to her shoulders. The Thai woman stood behind the
terrified captive, one bare arm circling around the girl's waist
to hold her steady while the other slid underneath the suit
jacket to squeeze the girl's breasts through the thin fabric of
her light grey blouse. I could see the young lawyer's soft blue
eyes, wide and darting with fear, as Tam leaned forward and
whispered something in her ears. I knew what she was saying; I
had said such things often enough myself. The girl's captive
hands fluttered in panic as the Thai girl explained her future in
crude, broken english. She let out a moan, wiggling frantically
in Tam's grip. Tam laughed and nipped at her ear, still
whispering.
The brunette stirred in my grip.
Distracted, I moved forward and locked her cuffs to another
ceiling ring. She moaned and began to awake as the pain from her
cuffed wrists dragged her slowly into consciousness.
Tam giggled.
I turned. The blonde girl was crying now. Tam had moved
around in front of her and was lapping the tears from her cheeks.
The blue eyes found my own and stared appealingly.
"Ahw... ahw...".
Help, in gagspeak.
Tam looked at me and let out another giggle.
"Joe no help," she sneered.
I looked away as Vopat entered the room. He surveyed the two
girls hanging from the ceiling and then turned to me. "Three
girls, Joe?" I nodded and left the room to fetch the redhead from
the garage.
By the time I got back, Tam had pulled open Melissa's blouse
and was playing happily with the blonde girl's firm breasts.
There had evidently been some trouble, as Melissa sported an
angry red mark on her cheek. Amanda was fully awake, brown eyes
wide and staring. She hadn't yet been molested, but I didn't
expect that to last much longer.
Vopat was seated behind his desk. "Just lay her on the
floor, Joe," he told me, gesturing at the redhead. I glanced at
the third ceiling ring, but did as I was told.
"Tam."
The Thai girl gave Melissa's breasts one last playful
squeeze and then walked over the unconscious redhead. Leaning
over, she pulled a vial from... I don't know where... and waved
it under her nose. Almost immediately, the woman's eyes popped
open. Tam undid the gag, stood up and backed away, watching as
the redhead sat up and then looked around.
"About time," she muttered. She didn't seem frightened. Or
even surprised.
I stared.
What the hell was going on?
The office was silent except for the blonde's panicked sobs
as Janice Stanford struggled to her feet and turned to Vopat.
"Well," she said, rattling her handcuffs. "Aren't you going to
take these off."
Vopat gestured and Tam moved forward with the key.
What the hell...
END CHAPTER ONE
=================================================================
As usual, all comments are welcome.
=================================================================
"This is my daughter's life we're talking about here."
Assistant Director Hender sighed. "Sir, I understand that."
"I don't think you do."
"I agree with Mr. Stanford." Lance Hender turned to see
Philip Kennedy, Janice Stanford's fiance. "It's just too risky.
They've asked for..."
"I don't need you're support, boy," the older man
interrupted. "I'm quite capable of handling this myself."
"Yes sir." Kennedy looked down.
R. Terrance Stanford III turned his attention back to the
two FBI men seated across the desk in front of him. The older
one, Lance Hender, shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked
away. The younger, Harrison Crawford, just stared, unblinking.
"Sir..."
"Gentlemen," Stanford continued, interrupting Hender, "I've
made up my mind. I can afford the money. Won't even notice it's
gone. I'm going to follow instructions and send Philip to Bangkok
with the money tomorrow. That'll be the end of it."
"But sir," Hender tried again, "we have reason to believe
that...".
"I'll hear no more about it."
The room fell silent for a moment.
Stanford nodded. "Now, if there's nothing..."
"Mr. Stanford." Crawford spoke for the first time since
entering the room. "I've dealt with these people before. Let me
tell you what's going to happen."
"I told you..."
"Your future son in law will disappear. With the diamonds.
His body may turn up in a Bangkok gutter somewhere. Maybe not."
Philip Kennedy looked away, his face white. "And neither your
daughter nor the other two girls will be seen again. At least not
in person."
Stanford frowned. "If you think..."
"But you will get pictures." Crawford leaned forward, grey
eyes burning. "You will see your lovely daughter fucking dozens
of men and women in every possible way, all the time moaning and
smiling for the camera like the eager whore she'll have become.
After a while, you'll see videos - the same videos that'll be for
sale on the black market and under the counter at your local
video store - of her with dogs... horses... donkeys... whatever
sick act they think they can sell..."
"Harrison..."
Hender put a hand on the younger man's arm, but Crawford
ignored him. "And after she's too fucked out to make them any
money in the video market or as a whore, they'll prepare her for
the freak market. Rings... mutilation... amputation... "
"Stop it!"
Kennedy looked like he was about to throw up. "And then one
day... maybe a year, maybe two... your finally get lucky. And
they'll stop."
The room fell silent.
Stanford's face was damp with perspiration as he stared at
the FBI agent.
Crawford took a deep breath. "You see, sir, I know these
people. Better than anyone. They... my sister was... taken..."
The FBI agent's voice broke for a moment, but he quickly regained
control. "... and I know - I *know* - what's going to happen.
What you're going to go through if you don't give us a chance.
Give me a chance to stop them."
Stanford turned away and stared for a moment out the tinted
window at the city. Finally, he spoke: "what do you have in
mind?"
Hender sighed as the elevator doors slid shut. "Don't you
think that was a little much in there?"
Crawford looked over at him. "Huh?"
"The monologue," Hender explained. "A little over the top?"
"No."
"We don't even know for sure that the kidnapping is
connected to this Jackson character."
"It is," Crawford stated grimly. "It is."
*****
I was so pissed off at Vopat for not letting me in on the
purpose of his little kidnap scheme it was three days before I
sobered up enough to remember the money I'd been promised. Maybe
I could get it and get the hell out of Bangkok before all hell
broke loose. So I went back to Candyland. The bartender told me
that Vopat was away on some kind of business but that I could
wait in the office. I grabbed a Klosters for the hangover and
went through the door at the back of the club.
She was there. The redhead.
The one who'd set whole thing up.
She looked up at me as I entered the room. "Through sulking,
I see," she sneered. I just stared at her. God, she looked good.
Her thick red hair was combed back from her face in a wave and
was held in place with a large beret. She was wearing a knee
length green skirt and a dark yellow blouse which set off her
green eyes perfectly. Sexy as hell.
For some reason, I hated the bitch.
"I'm looking for Vopat," I told her, taking a mouthful of
beer.
She smiled. "He'll be back."
I shrugged and fell back onto Vopat's old couch.
Still smiling, she crossed her arms and walked slowly
towards me. "Vopat tells me you're an American."
"Vopat talks too much." I took another mouthful of beer and
then looked up at her. "Yeah," I admitted. "I'm from the States.
Haven't been there in a long time."
"I know. You're english sounds... odd. Unused."
I thought about it for a second and then shrugged again.
"Tell me," she said, now standing directly above me. "What
made you become a... a slaver, Vopat called it. Why do you..."
"I'm a businessman," I interrupted. "I do what I need to do
for money. That's all." I tried to take another mouthful of
Klosters, but the bottle was empty.
Shit.
"Oh, I don't believe that," she said mockingly. The redhead
turned and walked across the room. "It can't be just the money.
There must be something else." I watched, mesmerised, as she
turned, leaned against Vopat's desk and slowly ran her tongue
across her upper lip. "You like it don't you... bringing young
girls into a..." She smirked. "... a fate worse than death."
I turned away.
She laughed.
"Want to see what Tam's training them for?"
"Pass."
Last thing I needed right now.
"Oh, come on." She walked up and kneeled down in front of
me. I stared into those bright green eyes. "A man like you...
you'll like it." She brought up a hand and caressed my cheek.
God... it had been so long... "C'mon Joe." Her voice was low and
husky. "Let's watch."
How could I say no?
I got up and let her lead me across the room and through a
small door into an alcove Vopat had installed behind his office.
It was no more than a small chamber with a large glass window
along one side in front of a desk. On the other side of the
window was the large mirror which covered one wall in the next
room. It was a large room, about the size of the stage in the
club.
Tam's training room.
Melissa and Amanda stood fastened against a wall by a single
set of handcuffs to a metal hook. The blonde and the brunette
were dressed identically in cute little school girl outfits. The
costumes seemed similar to those which had been used in the
Bodwell's mother daughter act: a white, short-sleeved blouse (one
or two sizes too small, of course, to emphasize their assets), a
grey, pleated skirt which dropped down to mid thigh and white
knee socks. The three inch heels were a little out of place, but
worked nicely anyway. The blonde girl had her flaxen hair done up
in two girlish pony tails, one on each side of her head; the
brunette's was in a cascade of bouncy curls. Both girls wore
minimal makeup. A perfect school girl / slut outfit. Tam knew
what she was doing.
The room must have been miked, 'cause I could hear their
heavy, uneven breathing and occasional sobs from a small speaker
into the wall of the alcove. The breathing sounded a bit odd, so
I took a closer look. Their eyes were a little glazed. Tam had
been using drugs. I turned to Janice to say something, but she
just shook her head and put her hand up to shut me up. "Wait for
it."
On cue, a door opened and Tam walked in, dressed in her
usual domanitrix outfit, holding a leash with two of the largest
german shepherds I'd ever seen in my life. One the dogs let out a
quiet bark when he saw the girls. One of the girls, I think it
was Melissa, moaned in fear. Tam laughed and scratched him behind
an ear.
I couldn't help it. "Shit. I don't believe it."
Beside me, Janice giggled and put her hand on my shoulder as
if to stop me from leaving. No danger of that. I was mesmerized,
helpless even to look away.
Tam ordered the dogs to sit.
They did.
Smiling, she walked over to the sobbing girls. The Thai
whore trainer leaned forward to say a few quiet words. The
brunette shook her head and Tam punctuated her instructions with
several well placed blows from her riding crop. By the end of the
"pep talk", both girls were nodding frantically, tears running
down their faces. The words "yes mistress Tam" sounded over and
over again came through the small speaker.
Janice giggled again. "They've been practising for three
days now," she told me.
Great.
Tam unfastened the girls from the wall and left them rubbing
their wrists as she walked quickly back over to the dogs. She
took their leashes firmly in hand and, after a quick glance to
make certain her trainees were watching and ready to go, she
called out "now" and began walking the two dogs slowly across the
room.
Melissa and Amanda waited a few teary seconds and then began
to move towards Tam and the dogs, skipping and prancing like
demented school girls. "Hello mistress Tam," they called out in
unison, voices pitched high like children. "How are you, today?"
Tam opened her mouth in a wide "O" of surprise. "Why, hello
Missy... Mandy...". I almost laughed. If Tam weren't so serious
about getting into the role, it'd be almost ridiculous. As it
was, there was something perversely fascinating about the way she
tried so hard to act out her parts in these little shows she
arranged for Vopat.
"How about a kiss for your mistress Tam?"
The two girls giggled happily and scurried towards Tam, pony
tails fluttering behind them. The blonde was first. She hesitated
for a moment and then brought her lips down to Tam's. The Thai
woman closed her eyes and drew the girl in for a long kiss that
was anything but schoolgirlish. I saw tears in Melissa's eyes as
the kiss ended. Amanda was next. The brunette grimaced a bit, but
followed the act. Tam was taller than her, so she had to turn her
head back and go up on her toes as she parted her lips and
accepted Tam's tongue into her mouth. When the kiss was over, the
brunette clasped her hand together and let out a little squeal.
"What a lovely kiss, mistress Tam."
"Oh yes," Melissa gushed, her blonde ponytails bouncing as
she bobbed her head up and down. "Can we have some more?"
Together: "We love to kiss our mistress Tam!"
Jesus Christ.
One of the dogs let out a bark.
Tam smiled. "You girls forget someone," she chided
comically, nodding at the dogs. "What about James and Rupert?"
I felt Janice's lips on my ear. "Melissa's husband's name is
Rupert; Amanda's fiance is James." I felt sick to my stomach, but
I couldn't deny the feeling in my groin as I felt the redhead
brush my earlobe with her tongue.
I stared into the room.
"Oh! We're sorry!"
The two girls squealed in unison and fell to their knees in
front of the dogs. The blonde kneeled down in front of one of the
dogs and took its face in her hands. "Hi Rupert," she greeted, a
wide, artificial smile plastered on her face. The next words were
almost strangled out: "Kissy for Missy?" The dog's mouth was
open, panting as it stared at her. Trembling, she brought her
face forward, twisted it sideways and... kissed the dog. Not a
peck on the nose... a long, passionate kiss which saw her suck
the dog's tongue between her lips and use her own tongue to
explore the dog's mouth. Those dogs must have been trained for
this. I'd heard of an outfit in Germany that did it, but I'd
never seen one before. A thin line of drool dripped down and hung
to the floor below them as the crying blonde school girl and the
german shepherd literally necked.
Tam turned and looked at the imaginary audience. "Missy
kissy Rupert!" she announced.
Then she looked at Amanda. The brunette was on her knees in
front of the other dog, but she had balked. Her smile had
crumbled and she was sobbing on the floor.
Tam frowned.
"Stop," she ordered. Melissa pulled away from the dog's
mouth. The blonde's chin was glistening and the front of her
white blouse was soaked in drool and spit from her extended kiss.
She leaned over and retched quietly on the floor, keeping her
head down while Tam used the riding crop to discipline her
partner.
"Oh." Janice's breath grew heavy as we watched the brunette
writhe and squirm on the floor, desperately trying to avoid Tam's
riding crop. I was more than conscious of the redhead's body
pushed up against mine, soft and warm.
After about ten minutes, Tam had her girl in line again.
"We start. From 'Missy kissy Rupert!'"
Melissa groaned, but she leaned forward obediently and
brought her face forward to the dog. The dog let out a bark and
opened its mouth. Well trained. They started to kiss again. I saw
the girl's pink tongue dart out to explore the dog's canines.
Beside her, the brunette sniffled, but obeyed, leaning
forward and choking out a greeting to the other dog - James -
before kissing and then necking with her dog. Tam watched for a
few moments as the two moaning girls french kissed their
respective partners. She leaned down and whispered some
instructions to the blonde girl, readjusting their position so
that the audience could get a better view. Then she went over to
the brunette and gave her a tap with the riding crop, calling out
a brief order. Moaning, the brunette sucked the dog's tongue into
her mouth.
Finally satisfied, Tam stood up and went back into
character. "Oh my," she cried out in mock surprise. "Girls make
kissy face with dogs. I don't know they such good friends!" She
leered at the imaginary audience. "Let see how good friends."
I imagined the crowd's reaction to this.
She looked down. "Girls, where your manners? That human
greeting. Let dog say hello too."
The two girls pulled away from the kiss and looked up at
Tam. Amanda was coughing, no doubt gagging on dog spit, but
Melissa managed to choke out a strangled "yes mistress Tam". The
two girls maneuvered themselves until they were facing each other
on their knees and then brought their faces to the floor, inches
away from each other. Melissa was sobbing openly now.
Tam winked at the audience and then whispered a soft command
to the dogs. They immediately they went to work, each one running
behind a girl, burrowing its muzzle in one of the girls' crotch
and starting to lick. Tam slipped out of character and inspected
the tableau. She walked slowly around, tapping the girl's thighs,
forcing them to spread their legs a little wider... flipping each
girls' skirt up with her riding crop so that audience could see
their naked asses. They weren't wearing underwear.
She watched the sobbing girls and their partners for a few
moments and then hissed out an angry command. Melissa immediately
recovered her plastic whore's smile and began to moan and whimper
at the dog's attentions, slowly bucking her pussy back and forth
under his tongue. "Oh... Rupert... yes..." It took a couple of
swats with the riding crop, but Amanda was soon doing the same.
Tam watched critically, making comments and orders to improve
their performance. Soon, it looked like the girls were really
getting into it.
Janice whispered to me: "Last year, Amanda got a lawyer at
the firm fired and disbarred for sexual harassment. Bet he'd pay
to see this." I turned to say something, but Janice brought her
lips up to mine and kissed me. I didn't like the woman, but I
couldn't help myself. I slipped an arm around her and pulled her
close to me. It had been so long since a woman had been with me
willingly...
Janice was panting by the time we finished the kiss.
I felt the same way.
She dropped a hand down under her skirt and quickly slid her
panties to the floor. I undid my zipper as she reached down and
pulled my cock free.
"Ohhh..." Janice moaned slightly as she ran her hand up and
down, coaxing it into more life than I'd experienced since
Flatsee's expert ministrations. I tried to kiss her again, but
her attention was on the training room while her fingers
continued their work.
I watched too.
Tam barked out a brief command: "Strip."
Still moaning and whimpering with fake passion, the two
girls reached up and undid the fronts of their school girl
blouses. In moments, the blouses were opened and pulled back. Not
surprisingly, neither girl was wearing a bra. Two pairs of
breasts - Melissa's small and firm, Amanda's large and soft -
jiggled and bobbled as the two girls writhed and bucked on the
floor, all the time moaning and smiling as the dogs worked at
their pussies.
Smiling, Tam looked out at the audience, a look of comic
surprise on her face. "Very good friend indeed" she announced. "I
wonder what they do next. What you think?" She waited, looking
out, for audience participation. She pretended not to hear.
"What? I not hear you." I had no doubt what the audience would be
suggesting at this point. "You think they... fuck?" Tam looked
around, giving the audience a moment to respond. "I ask girls,"
she said, finally. "Maybe they not like. They white girls. Only
real slut bitch fuck dogs."
She bent down and grabbed a handful of Melissa's light
blonde hair. The girl had stopped the comic panting and moaning
during Tam's dialogue with the audience, but had started up again
as soon as the Thai whore trainer had turned her attention back
to her. Tam sneered as the blonde lawyer gasped and wiggled her
hips at the licking dog, desperate not to be punished for her
lapse. "Missy like dog?"
Eyes wide with panic, the blonde girl nodded frantically.
"Missy like dog," she moaned. "Missy like dog lickee." She let
out a groan as Tam gripped her hair and twisted. "Missy like dog
lickee," she shouted.
Tam winked at the audience and then looked down again.
"Missy fuck dog?"
The blonde groaned.
"Noooo..."
Tam tightened her grip. "Missy want dog prick in cunee?"
"Ohhh... yes... Missy want fuck dog."
I could barely hear her.
Beside me, Janice began to pant. She maneuvered herself so
that she sat on the edge of the desk, half facing the training
room, skirt bunched up at her waist.
"Joe..."
She pulled me in to her, encircling me with her legs. I
moved forward as she reached down and guided my cock straight
into her open pussy.
She was wet and warm... and tight...
Tam reached underneath the blonde girl.
"Say louder."
Melissa twitched and screamed as the Thai woman viciously
twisted her nipple. "Missy fuck dog," she cried, tears running
down her face. "Missy fuck dog. Missy dog bitch... Missy want dog
cock in cunee..."
Tam released her hold on the nipple and gave a short command
to the dog. Well trained, it obeyed instantly, raising its head
from the blonde girl's crotch and using its forelegs to climb on
top. Melissa let out a moan of fear as the animal used its hind
legs to push itself forward on her back. Her arms trembled with
the added weight and a thin line of drool trickled out of her
open, panting mouth and drifted down to the padded floor.
Tam reached down and struck an exposed breast with her
riding crop. "Keep shout!"
"Missy fuck dog... Missy fuck dog...".
The german shepherd was in place, its forelegs resting
squarely on the blonde girl's shoulders. Growling, it began to
hump its crotch against the shouting girl's pussy.
"Missy fuck dog... Missy fuck dog..."
I could see the dog's cock bobbing in and out from between
her thighs as the animal tried in vain to find the target. Tam
kneeled down, grabbed one of Melissa's hands and guided it down
towards the dog's cock. "You help," she ordered. "Missy bitch
help dog fuck." The Thai woman wrapped the blonde's fingers
around the dog's thrusting cock and then let go. "You help dog
fuck." Melissa's eyes went wide with panic at the feel of the
dog's cock in her hand, but she didn't miss a beat. "Missy bitch
fuck dog... Missy bitch help dog fuck..." Her mindless, panting
cries continued as she pushed and wiggled the dog's cock up
against her pussy until finally...
"Aiieeeee..."
The dog let out a yelp of triumph as it buried its cock to
the hilt in the blonde's wide open pussy. Tam brought the riding
crop down once... then twice on the writhing girl. "Missy fuck
dog," she ordered. "Fuck dog."
With a groan, Melissa braced herself and began to fuck back
against the dog as it rammed its cock in and out of her pussy.
Another blow with the riding crop brought a lewd, whore's smile
to her face along with renewed cries of "Missy fuck dog... Missy
bitch fuck dog cock..."
I'd seen enough.
I turned and concentrated on fucking the redhead in front of
me. Her attention, however, was fastened on the room, green eyes
glowing as the sequence of events was repeated with the brunette.
Her legs pulled me in tight as and she bucked back at me as cries
of "Mandy fuck dog... Mandy bitch fuck big dog cock in cunee..."
rang out from the training room, mixing in with Melissa's moans
and cries of fake lust and the occasional bark from the dogs.
Janice turned to me, grinning mockingly as I did my best to
ignore what was going on in the other room.
"Mandy fuck dog..."
"Missy dog fuck bitch..."
The screams from the other room grew louder and louder. The
dogs began to bark and growl as I increased the force of my
strokes. Janice laughed and held me tighter around the shoulders,
enjoying the ride with her eyes fixed on the training room. Soon,
I was thrusting as hard as I could, trying to pound that mocking
smile off her face...
"Missy fuck..."
"Mandy..."
"Fuck me Joe," she whispered, a mocking smile on her face as
she turned towards me and ran a hot, pink tongue along my lips.
"Janice fuckee Joe bitch..."
I lost it.
My consciousness narrowed and shrunk away until it
encompassed no more that those two, mocking green eyes and the
two square inches at her crotch. Those eyes burned at me as I
pounded and bucked, trying to... I don't know... trying to crush
her... to destroy the bitch... I felt my cock expanding...
becoming enormous inside her... swelling up... stiffening...
"Ahhhh...."
"Joe."
My eyes closed as I stiffened...
I knew that her eyes, green and mocking, stayed open...
I don't know how long it was before I opened my eyes and
stepped away.
"Mmmmm..." Janice reached down and massaged her pussy. "That
was delicious, Joe." I shoved my cock back in my pants and turned
away, not saying anything. I felt filthy.
Janice giggled.
Back in the training room, the dogs were finished their
business. The two girls were in a 69 position, sobbing and
lapping at the dog cum which ran rivers from each others' sopping
pussies while Tam rubbed the dogs behind the ears, and grinned
happily.
After a while, she clapped her hand and the two girls
scrambled away from each other and onto all fours. "You not girls
now. Only real slut bitch fuck dogs. You doggies, right? Bitch
doggies."
"Yes mistress Tam," they squealed, eyes bright with tears.
"Mandy... Missy bitch doggie now... ruff... ruff...". The two
girls started barking as Tam, grabbed a bag from a corner of the
room and pulled two objects from inside. She held them up for
what would not doubt be an appreciative audience. Two long dog
tails, one blonde and one brunette. Fastened to a large, black
but plug.
"Doggies need tail," she announced moving behind the two
girls. Their pathetic barking raised in pitch as the Thai woman
slid the but plugs inside their exposed asses and moved away.
"Wag tail, bitch doggies," she commanded. Still smiling... still
barking, the two girls eagerly wagged their obscene new tails
back and forth. Tam grabbed some more stuff from her bag and soon
had the girls collared and leashed. She whistled and the two
german shepherds came running. After a brief sniff at the
crotches of the two girls, the dogs were soon leashed themselves.
Tam looked over at the audience and gave an exaggerated
shrug. "I guess Tam have four doggies now." She looked at the two
girls. Then she reached down and slowly, deliberately patted each
girl on the head: the ultimate Thai insult, touching someone's
spiritual centre. But the girls didn't complain. Amanda just
barked and wagged her tail at the audience; Melissa let out a
strangled yelp and stuck her nose in Rupert's ass, sniffing
happily.
Tam laughed.
"I take home now," she announced. "Put in kennel. With two
bitches, I soon have lots of little pups." With a grin and a
final flick of her leash, she led the four pets off the stage.
I sighed.
Tam had outdone herself. Vopat had another winner.
Not to mention his cut of the ransom money.
"Enjoy the show?"
I looked over at Janice. The redhead had let her skirt fall
back to her knees, but her eyes were still glazed over with lust
and her breathing was heavy. "Wanna... go again?"
Disgusted... with her... with myself, I turned and left the
alcove and walked into Candyland. I heard Janice laugh as I shut
the door.
Vopat was nowhere to be seen, evidently not back yet. Across
the room, I saw Annie going down on a customer, her metallic
blonde hair glistening in the low, club light. I growled
something at the bartender and stormed out the club.
END CHAPTER TWO
=================================================================
Here you go:
A BANGKOK SLAVER'S STORY 3/3
By Parker
WARNING: This story is kind of strong. It features scenes of
non-consensual sex and other sordid activities of a similar
vein. If this repulses or disgusts you, read no further. I
mean it!
NOTE: This story is a sequel of sorts to my own story
DOCTOR'S ORDERS (Parker #5) and Marlissa's two Bangkok
Slaver stories. I will not repost those stories, but others
might. Many thanks to Marlissa for (a) allowing me to use
her characters and (b) for the helpful comments.
Copyright 1996 by Parker (except for the bits that belong to
Marlissa). Feel free to distribute (unchanged of course), but
please be discrete.
=================================================================
Philip Kennedy paced back and forth nervously in the hotel
room. Despite the air conditioning, the young man was sweating
profusely in the humid Bangkok air. Every few minutes, he glanced
over at the locked briefcase which sat on a table beside the bed,
checked his watch, and then resumed pacing.
"Don't get so worked up. Nothing's going to happen until the
exchange tomorrow." Kennedy's eyes narrowed as he looked at the
other man in the room.
Crawford.
The FBI agent.
"Easy for you to say," he answered angrily. "It's not your
fiance on the line."
"I know how you feel."
"You don't have a fucking clue how I feel."
Crawford's face went blank.
Nikki.
"I do know."
He reached up and patted the 9mm Browning he'd arranged to
pick up once he had cleared customs.
*****
I didn't want to go back, but I really needed the money.
Candyland was packed. I had deliberately chosen a busy time,
hoping to avoid Janice in the crowd. No luck. She was sitting on
the couch in Vopat's office next to Tam when I walked in. The
brunette - Amanda - was on all fours, naked but for her leather
collar and wagging brown tail, her pretty face buried in the
redhead's crotch. Melissa was set up the same way between Tam's
legs. The two novice whores lapped and slurped hungrily. Tam's
riding crop explained their enthusiasm. Vopat sat behind his
desk, a smile on his face as he watched his two new recruits
demonstrate their obedience.
"Have a seat, Joe."
I was tempted to turn around and walk away, but I didn't
want to look like a complete idiot. And, as I said, I needed the
money. Trying to ignore my surroundings, I sat down and stared at
Vopat across his desk. "You owe me," I told him. "50,000."
He nodded, still smiling. "I pay. You know that, Joe. But
first, we make comfort and talk other business."
"Vopat..."
"I insist, Joe."
He clapped his hand.
Tam giggled.
Annie walked into the room. Her face was heavily made up
under wild, blonde hair and she was dressed in the standard bar
girl outfit: thong bikini, cheap plastic pumps... but for her
pale white skin and blue eyes, she was just another bar girl.
Just another whore.
"Vopat want Annie?" she asked. Her british accent sounded
ridiculous when she spoke like that.
"Serve our guest," Vopat told her, nodding at me.
"Vopat...". What the fuck was he doing? "No. I don't
want..."
He ignored me. "If Joe not come in ten minutes, I give you
to Tam for punishment. Twenty lashes."
"Twenty five," Tam called, bringing the crop down Melissa's
bare ass for punctuation. The blonde girl yelped, let out a
couple of muffled barks and then buried her face back in her
mistress's pussy.
I stared at Vopat as the ex-stewardess scurried over, slung
one long, bare leg over my lap and began to grind her hips into
me. "You not like Annie," she pouted, thrusting her breasts in my
face. "Annie make you come good." Her expression changed to a
leer. "Annie fuckee fuckee." She reached down and began to rub my
hardening cock through my pants. Vopat grinned. He knew I didn't
want to do it, but he also knew I didn't want to be responsible
for twenty five strokes. I stared at the desperate blonde slut
writhing and whimpering on my lap, the last part of my
(...blondesmilingfaces...) dream flickering through my mind like
(...neverforgetnever...) an obscene movie.
Danielle.
"You fuck Annie?"
I gave up.
"On your knees," I told her. I felt sick to my stomach.
"Suck."
Her face hardened as she dropped to her knees and coaxed my
cock free from my pants with experienced fingers. I couldn't help
but moan as she sucked it in and slowly swallowed it down her
throat until her nose was buried in my pubic hair. Eight months
at Candyland had made a talented cocksucker out of the ex-
stewardess.
"Now," Vopat smiled. "We talk business."
Turned out they needed me again.
Something had gone wrong with their plans to pick up the
ransom money and they needed someone to go through the motions of
exchanging the girls for the money. Purely for show.
I wanted nothing to do with it.
I said so.
Annie let out a gasp of fake passion from my lap.
Vopat offered me a hell of a lot of money.
I agreed to do it.
Janice giggled as I stiffened and came in Annie's mouth. The
blonde woman moaned and sucked it all down like the experienced
whore she was.
*****
The pickup took place the next day.
I made one last check before going in. The van was parked
half a block from the street amidst the piled garbage in an alley
just off Joytown. Almost the real world. The three girls were in
the back. Melissa and Amanda were naked except for their leather
dog collars and red ball gags. Their hands were cuffed behind
their backs and their ankles were fastened to a welded metal bar
which ran the length of the floor. They moaned quietly as the
vibrators - Janice's idea, of course - buzzed and hummed inside
their aching pussies. The redhead was crouched on the floor, one
eye on the girls the other watching the back entrance to the
restaurant through a blackened van window. One of Vopat's goons
sat in the front seat behind the steering wheel.
I hadn't wanted to bring either Janice or the two girls
along, but the redhead had insisted. She wanted to be in on the
kill, she said. And the girls were insurance... in case something
went wrong. The thought of something going wrong made me sick to
my stomach. Ten million dollars in ransom money is serious stuff.
"Well?" she asked.
Bitch.
I shrugged and got out of the van.
A nondescript door in the alley led to a small restaurant /
bar. The place was empty except for a couple of locals and a
drunken tourist pawing the review section of the Bangkok Post, no
doubt drooling over their reviews of the local sex acts.
And Kennedy.
I spotted him immediately. A short, heavy man with a weak
chin, overdressed for the weather.
I walked up to his table. "Kennedy?" I asked.
He nodded nervously. I could smell his fear.
Couldn't blame him, I guess.
"You have it?"
Fuck.
I felt like a character in a B movie with lines like that.
Still, it did the trick. He nodded and pulled a small briefcase
out from under the table. After glancing around - no one was
paying us the slightest attention - he undid the catch and opened
it a crack. "It's all here," he told me.
I stared at ten million dollars worth of uncut diamonds.
"Shut it," I ordered, looking around. Now *I* was nervous.
It was dangerous to be holding that kind of money. "Follow me." I
led him out the back way into the alley. I paused, looking
around. The van sat there, just as I'd left it.
No one in sight.
"There." I gave him a shove towards it as I reached into a
pocket for a blackjack. The plan was to knock him unconscious and
leave him in the alley.
Without the briefcase, of course.
I had it halfway out of my pocket when I felt something cold
and hard against my temple.
A gun.
Then a voice: "Don't move."
*****
Crawford looked up from the newspaper as the two men walked
towards the back of the restaurant. Was that Jackson? The tall,
beefy man with the receding hairline somehow didn't fit his
mental picture of the man. Looked more like an ex-football player
gone to seed rather than some kind of diabolical white slaver.
Still...
The FBI agent dropped the magazine and followed them out
into the alley. The heavy man pointed to a van with blackened
windows and gave Kennedy a shove towards it. Crawford drew his
Browning, took a couple of quick, quiet steps and placed it
against the kidnapper's temple.
"Don't move."
The man froze.
"Move your hands away from your pockets. Now." Slowly,
calmly, the kidnapper let his hands fall away until they hung
loose and empty at his sides.
"I'm not armed," the man said quietly.
Crawford snorted. "You won't mind if I don't take your word
for it, will you Mr. Jackson?"
The man started at the name and Crawford felt a wave of
excitement wash over him. This really was Jackson. He knew
Jacqueline Astor... knew how to get in contact with him. The FBI
agent trembled in anticipation; he couldn't wait to question the
man, particularly here, away from any legal limits on police
action. He would...
No. Crawford swallowed and forced himself to focus on the
task at hand. First things first. There would be plenty of time
for questions later. He glanced at the van. "Kennedy," he called
out, "Check..."
He fell silent.
Where was Kennedy? He...
"Drop the gun."
"What?" The FBI agent looked around. Kennedy was a few feet
away, a .38 Special in his hand.
"I said drop it," the man repeated.
Stunned, Crawford opened his hand and let the Browning drop
to the pavement where it bounced once and skittered away. Jackson
leaned down, reaching for the gun, but froze as Kennedy turned
the revolver on him. "You too," he called out. "Don't move...
either of you."
Jackson straightened up, his hands in the air.
The van door slid open...
*****
"Drop the gun."
I looked over. Kennedy was holding some kind of revolver...
pointing it at the guy who had ambushed me. There was a clank as
the man dropped his pistol to the concrete. What the hell? Then
it dawned on me: Kennedy had been in on it from the outset. He
and Janice had planned it together!
I bent down and reached for the pistol, but Kennedy turned
the revolver on me. "You too," he said. "Don't move... either of
you."
Fuck.
I straightened up and put my hands in the air.
Just what the hell was going on?
The van door slid open and Janice slid out, a silenced
Walther PPK in her hand. Where had that come from?
"Hello Philip," she smiled. "I see you've met my friend Mr.
Jackson." Christ. With the way my name was being tossed about,
I'd have to start using a new alias. She smirked at me as she
took the briefcase from her fiance and put it in the back of the
van. "Don't look so surprised, Jackson. You didn't really think I
was going to give a third to that weasel Vopat, did you?"
Bitch.
She looked at the other guy. "And you must be Agent
Crawford." Janice smirked. "I heard about your sister."
'Agent Crawford?' A fucking FBI agent? In Bangkok?
"Quit fucking around, Janice." Philip's hand was trembling.
Not a promising sight when a that hand's pointing a gun at you.
"Let's do it and get the hell out of here."
The redhead sneered at her fiance's nerves, but nodded.
"Take them around behind the van. Do it there."
I reconsidered. Maybe a new alias wouldn't be necessary
after all. It didn't look like I'd be around much longer.
"Move it."
It's a funny thing. Even when you know you're going to be
shot, you always obey the man who's about to kill you. Gun's are
like that. I glanced in the front of the van as I went past.
Vopat's driver was slumped over the wheel, his brains spread out
all over the inside of the windshield.
Maybe not so funny...
*****
Crawford smelled the blood stench and cordite before he saw
the body slumped up against the gore-stained dashboard. Kennedy
was an amateur. Maybe... Out of the corner of his eye, the FBI
agent caught the brief hesitation... the inevitable moment of
revulsion as Kennedy saw the body and froze.
Crawford whirled and...
*****
I was about to start begging when something metallic slammed
against the side of the van behind me. I turned. Kennedy and the
mystery man - Agent Crawford, Janice had called him - were
struggling for control of the revolver.
A shot rang out.
That was enough for me. As far as I knew, they both wanted
to kill me and I didn't want to wait around to see who won.
I ran past them around the side the van and straight into
Janice, who was running towards the struggling men. The redhead
tried to raise her pistol in my direction, but I was too close. I
barrelled into her before she could shoot. She let out a cry as
we both tumbled to the ground. The Walther went flying.
Half winded by the impact, I struggled to my feet. Janice
was on her hands and knees, gasping for air. I'm a lot heavier
than she is. I reached down, dragged her up by a fistful of hair
and slammed her against the alley wall. She hit the bricks with
her shoulder, bounced off and fell to her knees. I moved after
her, but she stumbled to her feet and staggered away out of the
alley. I lumbered along behind, but she started to pull away.
I'm not all that quick on my feet.
She might have made it if the old mercedes hadn't come
screaming around the corner and squealed to a stop directly in
front of her. The redhead tried to halt, but slipped on some
garbage and slammed heavily into the side of the car.
Another shot rang out behind me.
Then another.
Tam lowered the window, her blue eyes shining with
excitement. "Get in, Joe. Fast. Bring the bitch."
I didn't need to be told twice. Janice was trying to crawl
away, so I kicked her in the stomach. She groaned and fell
gasping against the side of the car. I pulled open the car door,
grabbed her by the back of the neck and half threw her inside.
"Hurry!"
I dove inside as Tam pulled away.
Another shot rang out, shattering the back window and
showering us with glass. Tam let out a high pitched scream,
laughing with excitement as the mercedes turned a corner and
picked up speed.
*****
Crawford lowered Kennedy's .38 as the car turned the corner
and disappeared from view. They were gone. Jackson was gone, and
with him the one real lead he had concerning the whereabouts of
Jacqueline Astor. Swallowing, the FBI agent turned and walked
back into the alley.
Kennedy lay sprawled on the ground beside the van, a large
part of his head spread out on the concrete. Crawford opened the
van door and looked inside. Melissa and Amanda looked back at
him, eyes wide with hope. The briefcase lay on the floor. The FBI
agent smiled reassuringly and climbed inside to free them.
At least he'd accomplished something...
*****
*****
Hender hung up the phone, wincing.
"Stanford's pissed."
Crawford shrugged wearily. "Can't blame him. Hard for him to
believe his daughter set the whole thing up."
"Do you think they'll ever find her?"
"Doubt it. Bangkok's got a lot of places to hide, and she's
probably long gone by now."
"At least he got his diamonds back."
"Yeah," Crawford nodded. "He'll get over it."
"How about you, Harrison?" the FBI official asked, studying
the younger man. "You were close this time. Are you getting over
it."
Crawford fell silent for a moment, thinking about how it had
felt with Jackson before him, full of information about... her.
Dr. Jacqueline Astor. To have that slip through his fingers
was...
"Ah shit." He had managed to get the girls out. "There'll be
other times. I'm fine." He looked over at his superior and
shrugged. "Fine as I'll ever be."
He thought about his sister.
Next time.
*****
I took another mouthful, enjoying the burning sensation as
the scotch trickled down my throat and flooded into my stomach.
Face comfortably numb, I leaned back on my bed and closed my eyes
as the evening's events came back to me.
It had started off badly.
There had been a small package waiting for me at the club.
It had contained a small, glass jar with two tiny pieces of flesh
floating in some kind of clear preservative. I couldn't identify
them until I'd read the note:
"Loose lips sink ships, Joe. Donald had a big
mouth. Do you?
Love, Jacqueline
PS. No more warnings; no more contact. You
understand."
I understood.
Perfectly.
God, that woman scared me.
Things got better.
Vopat cornered me and slipped me an envelope full of money.
Another 25,000 baht, he told me, as a bonus for a job well done.
His way of buying me off after tricking me with the kidnap
scheme, but I didn't care. Together with the 50,000 I'd gotten
paid originally and the 25,000 I'd been paid for acquiring a new
girl for the doggie show, I now had enough money not to work for
Vopat for a while.
Maybe even go into legit business.
We'd see.
As I'd predicted, Tam's doggie show had been a big hit. The
crowd had gone nuts when Janice - now "Jan-Jan" - and Mandy - a
petite blonde named Amanda Boyd I'd picked up in a hurry to fill
out the act from a friend named Carol Brookmere back in the U.S.
(one of Carol's "office girls"; but that's another story) - did
their bits with James and Philip, the two german shepherds. Tam
had even added a nice bit at the end where the two girls licked
and sucked their canine partners clean after they'd finished
sucking the dog cum from each other's gaping pussies.
Inspired.
The audience kicked and stomped and screamed for so long
that Tam led her pets on stage for a short encore. The sight of
proud, haughty Janice Stanford in a leather leash and dog collar,
smiling happily while barking and wagging her fluffy red tail at
the crowd of lowlives and losers cheered me immensely.
Two shows a night.
Seven days a week.
Janice would be a busy girl...
One more thing.
As I sat drinking in the lull between shows, I spotted Annie
doing her bar slut routine for a disinterested customer. I'd been
thinking about her a lot lately... and about her resemblance -
yes... there *was* a resemblance - to Danielle.
It had been giving me nightmares again.
Time to do something about it.
I downed my drink, got to my feet and staggered over to her
as her mark turned away in favour of a young, Thai girl. She let
out a little scream as I grabbed her, dragged her into Vopat's
office and shoved her up against his desk. She steadied herself
and looked over at me, blue eyes fearful under her long, blonde
hair. I let my eyes roam over her made up whore's face and then
slowly down her body, taking in the sagging, well used tits,
barely covered by the white, yellow-stained bikini top... the red
marks and bruises up and down her pale arms... the thin, almost
transparent bikini bottom... the trickle of dried cum on the
inside of her thigh...
"A-Annie please you," she stuttered, uncertain of the
situation. "You like Annie? Make fuckee fuckee?"
"You're name's not 'Annie'," I growled at her. "It's Roxanne
Bodwell. You're english; used to be a stewardess. I kidnapped you
and your daughter nine months ago and sold you as sex slaves to
the lowest, scummiest club in Bangkok."
"No..."
"You and Sarah were on display as lesbian fuck toys for six
months before Vopat sold your daughter off the most corrupt army
office in Thailand. He's probably fucking her brains out in his
private estates right now."
"You... bastard...".
"And I'm the guy who did it to you. I sold you. I put you
here. You're a fucked out whore. Your daughter's a whore. And
you'll both be whores for the rest of your lives."
Tears streamed down her face as she stared at me.
"And now, I'm going to fuck you 'till you bleed. And know
what, Roxanne Bodwell? There's not a fucking thing you can do
about it. 'Cause that's what you're here for."
She started to scream, but I grabbed her by the shoulders
and slammed her stomach into Vopat's desk. The blonde woman let
out a strangled groan and doubled over, gasping for air. "The
world's shit, Roxanne," I growled, wrapping my fingers around the
slender bikini string and ripped it from her bruised thighs. "And
you're in it." I buried my cock to the hilt into her pussy with
one furious shove. I was as hard as I'd ever been, and dry as a
bone, but she had been so well used, I barely felt a thing when I
went in.
Didn't matter.
This wasn't about her. Something burst deep inside, sending
shards of images tumbling through my skull in a torrent of
unwanted memory...
... until I no longer knew who I was...
... Danielle, laughing and playing with little Cassie in the
morning light... (...looksalotlikeher...) ... looking up at me as
I came up the... (...looksalot...) ... red ribbons ...
... Cassie... little Cassie, crying at the window while black
smoke tumbled and swirled around her...
(...neverforgetneverforget...)
... police light, red and blue spashing against grey, smoke-
blackened concrete and twisted glass shards...
(...blondesmiling...)
... and... underlying it all... a single fact... a realization...
I'd somehow avoided... ignored... obscured... for almost twenty
years... (...neverforgetneverforget...)
...a single, unescapable fact...
... Danielle... Cassie ...
... they were never...
...never... coming... back...
...it didn't matter what I did... whether I rescued Roxanne and
her daughter...
... Danielle ...
... or whether I slit their throats and dumped them in the
gutter...
"... NEVER!... FUCKING! ... COMING! ... BACK!"
I heard myself screaming as my senses snapped back to the
here and now. It didn't matter. Tears scalded my cheeks as I
pounded each ugly, twisted spike of a word as deep as I could
into Roxanne Bodwell's squirming, unwilling cunt.
(... notcomingback ...)
Nothing mattered.
(... nevercomingbacknotcoming ...)
I came hard after a few more crude thrusts and left her gasping
and sobbing on the floor of Vopat's office.
Vopat stared at me, a look of surprise on his face as I
stormed out of his office doing my pants up, but wisely didn't
say anything as I snatched a almost full bottle of cheap scotch
off the bar and marched out into the warm, dark Bangkok night.
Back in my room.
The bottle of scotch lay empty beside me on the bed and I
felt a familiar sodden darkness overtake me, dragging me down
into sleep. Thinking of Roxanne... Sarah... Danielle... I felt a
brief stab of fear that I might dream.
But I didn't.
Slept like a baby.
THE END
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As usual, all comments are welcome.