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.
`Beyond Chiang Mai' is entirely a work of fiction. It is an
original story that borrows some characters from the Bangkok
Slaver series by both Marlissa and Parker, as well as this
humble scribe.
This is a journey to places far beyond any brochure. To
strange lands with stranger customs but with people like you
and me. Some searching, others having already found what
they were looking for. I hope you take the trip and can
accept what you may find.
Enjoy the story as it may be my last. Remember Bob Dylan's
words, "The times, they are a-changing."
(c) 1997, Strok
er Ace
Beyond Chiang Mai
Chapter -- 1, Home is where the heart is
`I need a hero,
He has got to be strong,
He has got to be fast
He has got to be fresh from the fight.'
I leaned over and turned off the radio. The floor is
cool on my bare feet, it is early morning. Tiptoeing across
the hall, I ever so gently open the door and slip in under
the floral sheet. She lies on her side in a satin pink baby
doll. Gorgeous reddish brown hair spills over her pillow.
I can't resist. It has been too long. Gently and slowly,
careful not to disturb her, I work my hand to her waist.
The satin is delightfully cool. The curve of her hips under
my trembling hand, over to her thigh, on bare skin now,
warmer but still cool. She stirs, rearranges a leg, a
sleepy moan exhaled from parted lips. Under the baby doll
now, encouraged and so very excited, oh she feels so good,
tight, firm, she stirs again and rolls onto her back. Her
love mound is trimmed back, a perfect little triangle, hair
in tight curls, the same reddish brown. I enter her, my
finger in her folds then in under her clit. She is moist
not yet wet, I cuddle my erection against her thigh, trying
not to hump her leg too hard. Another finger in, it has
been so long.
"Uh, ohhh, Shaaane.. Uh, oh. Oh, Reggie, it's you. Not
now honey." My wife of four years wakens, "You know, I have
to go to work. What is it, Friday? Staff meeting with the
Old Man.." She puckers her lips in a kiss, towards me.
"Would it hurt if your were few minutes late?" I slide
to cover the distance that has grown between my cock and the
warmth of her body. My hand goes for her breast while the
other seeks reentry, but it too late. She rolls from bed.
"I am turning blue."
"Oh, honey, you are so sweet," she smiles. Giving me a
rare treat she takes a tennis pose, legs slightly apart she
stretches her arms over her head, taking to her toes. What
a body. Lean from Weight Watchers even though they say she
should eat more. Strong and firm from jazzercise on
Tuesdays, then gym three afternoons a week and mile in the
pool on the off days. In one fluid motion the pink silk is
pulled over her head, another smile for me and she playfully
throws it in my face.
I breathe it in deeply.
"Oh, look at the time. Got to run. Do I have to get
the coffee myself?"
"Sorry, dear. I'll get it."
French roast, artificial sweetener, her vitamins just the
way Colleen likes it. I put a birth control pill in a paper
cup on the tray. I wonder why, she never lets me touch her
anymore. She is coming from the shower, an oversize towel
wrapped around her, tucked between her breast, another
around her hair.
"Oh Reggie, the Old Man is having another garden party
Sunday." She shakes her hair out, bending forward to brush
it out.
"Sometimes I think that you only keep me around for your
bosses' parties, or his dinners, or theater."
"You know how much of a family man the Old Man is. Ever
since his nice disappeared he lives for the family. He
likes that in all his people," she blew a kiss towards me.
"Even wants me to start a family."
"We could."
"Not a chance."
"Thanks a lot." My wife made a kissing motion with her
lips. "You know what I mean."
"I could go back to work, full time. With my salary, you
would not have to work so much. I never get to see you
anymore. You have your own bedroom, go to work then
exercise with your girl friends. I have your snack waiting
for you when you get home and you fall asleep."
"Oh don't start with me Reginald. Not now. You know
what this job means to me. Not to mention the pay. Anyway
I need you honey, there is so much to do. Remember we tried
it with you working, nothing around the house ever got
done." She turned on the blow dryer to end the discussion.
"Honey, touch up the collar on this blouse. Be careful,
its silk. Use low heat on the iron."
"The collar looks fine to me.."
"Oh, don't be silly," she blew me a kiss.
"Honey, go to the store today and pick up some margarita
mix. The girls are coming over tomorrow. Be a dear and
clean the patio."
"Again? I guess you want me out of the house?"
"Would you dear? Oh that is sweet of you. I will put an
extra ten in your house money. Go take in a movie or buy
one of those adventure books that you like so much. Its
just that this is for us girls."
Colleen put on the blouse. She wore thigh high stockings
with a vine pattern on each leg. I had driven by in the old
Ford, if her girl friends were over they must have walked
because there were no cars in the driveway, only the pool
man's truck. He was not much of a pool cleaner either. On
Sunday mornings there would still be leaves on the bottom.
"Shall I call the pool boy and cancel? I wouldn't want
him to distract your friends."
"No it is all right. Shane is no bother."
"Shane?"
"Oh... Shane or Sam, I am not sure."
"I just thought that those shorts he always wears would
be distracting to your card game. You would think that with
all the money we are paying him he could get some shorts
that cover his ass. And he could wear a shirt, but I guess
he wants to show off those pecks."
"No it's OK. Brenda likes to watch him. You know what a
slut Brenda is. She thinks he is a hunk." She picked a
black leather skirt, way high over her knee. "I have nice
legs don't you think?," she asked, looking herself in the
mirror. "Nice." She ran a hand across her flat stomach.
Turning to me, "What you need is a little change of
scenery," she said. Old Man Bodwell is after me to start a
family. You are getting restless. I have been wanting to
tell you. I guess now is a good time."
"I approached Bodwell after our racquet ball game,
Tuesday. You know how he just loves to see me run around in
that little skirt. I have a hell of a time letting him win.
He is actually pretty good when he can keep his mind off my
ass. Anyway, Old Man Bodwell would do and pay anything to
find out what happened to his girls. I told you about it.
Don't you remember? Last year both mother and daughter got
involved in narcotics, ran up some bills then disappeared to
avoid the creditors. Left a good job at British Airways.
Took everyone by surprise. Well, I told the Old Man that
you are a private investigator and would try to find his
girls. He went for it. Agreed to pay your expenses and if
you actually find something, to give me, I mean us, give us
a bonus."
"What? That's crazy! I'm a teacher not some kind of
international gum shoe."
"An unemployed shop teacher. Remember? Reggie, you
always sell yourself short. That's your problem, you have
no ambition. That's why without me you are nothing. Oh
Reggie, you can do it, Reggie. Do it for me."
"There is no way that I can find anything about missing
girls. What do I know about detective stuff?"
"Honey, you read all those silly mystery books. Don't
you see, Reggie honey baby. That is the beauty of it.
Bodwell will love me just for trying. If you actually find
out something that is even better. And who knows, perhaps
we will just make something up. With that partnership
opening up, I can't loose."
She gave me that look. It has always worked for her.
There is not a man alive that can resist it. Even women
fall for it. Why, I once saw a motorcycle cop reduce an 95
mph speeding ticket to a warning on that look alone. And
then escorted her BMW to the polo grounds.
"There is nothing to it, honey bunny. Just walk around a
little bit, ask some questions, see the sights, and come
back in two or three weeks and say that they were kidnapped
and probably killed or something. Nothing to it at all."
Colleen stood her eyes bright with the thought of it.
Barley five-five, leather mini, fuck me heels, red hair.
"Honey, the partnership is what we have been working for all
these years. Once I land it, things will be different. I
know how difficult it has been for you," she whispered in my
ear, a hand rubbing my nipple. She took me in her hand and
squeezed, my knees buckled.
"I promise." Her lips traveled down my chest. Pajama
bottoms were at my feet. Dropping to one knee she puckered
her lips blowing warm breath on my throbbing member. Her
tongue peeked out giving me a sweet but brief lick.
Expertly her hand worked my shaft, then snapped my cock down
between my legs as I shuddered, shooting my load on my leg.
"Sorry honey, but I have a staff meeting in thirty
minutes. Have to run. How is my lipstick? Plane tickets
and money are on the counter. Bodwell wrote a little note
telling what he knows and an address in London. Clean
yourself up, that is disgusting!"
Colleen was out the door, pulling on her jacket, getting
into the BMW. "Pick up some margarita mix and tequila
before you leave. Call me. Leave a message on my machine."
She blew me a kiss. "Love ya." The brake lights glowed
red.
I looked at the tickets. Red eye flight to London. I
would be gone by the time Colleen got back. I didn't know
when I would see her again.
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 without 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. 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 it 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 11:13. 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 do 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." Soft 36D's pressed to my chest. "Maggie, I like you
but."
She started to cry, "Bugger me, please. Take me 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 her white panties 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. Boldly
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 a 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.
Chambers, Margaret pulled her hand from mine and ran,
swinging feet up, into his arms. They were still kissing
when I reached him.
"Was my Maggie a good girl?" His eyes never left her.
"Did he take your 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 my
sweet cake back. Going to spend a few days in an Edinburgh
hotel, we are."
+++
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'
Beyond Chiang Mai
Chapter - 3, City Vipers
It was strange. The door locked at mid afternoon yet
music seeped out into the noisy boulevard. I banged at the
steel again. "Are you sure you want to do this," I asked.
It gives me bad vibes."
"Oh don't wimp out on me Reginald." Colleen looked like
a fashion model that had lifted from under the lights. She
wore a designer outfit, in khaki, with oversize pockets.
Her shirt was open to three buttons. Reaching in she patted
at her chest and neck with a dainty little handkerchief.
"Not now. I have been sweating in this dam hell-hole
third world country for two fucking weeks. Some little
goddam size 5 fluff with perky tits is probably on her knees
blowing Bodwell's wrinkled old prick right now, trying for
my job." The handkerchief disappeared, replaced by her hat
that she used to fan herself. "This is it. I have had it.
We check the other two joints on this tiger boulevard and we
go home. We can make up some fucking story for the Old Man.
He will believe anything at this point. Dam its hot. Hot
and smelly. Come, lets go."
Just then the door opened a crack. A woman, small and
thin as a whip looked out. Not smiling, not speaking, just
a blank look.
"Er, excuse us. We are wondering if you have seen either
of these two." I held up the picture of Roxanne and Sarah
at the soccer match. When she didn't say anything, I held a
hand over my eyes as if searching the horizon. "You know.
Me. Look. Them. I am sorry, I don't speak Thai," I added,
disappointed.
She snapped the picture from my hand clicking the door
shut before I could speak. "The bitch. Did you see that
fuck me outfit she had on? A whore. I know it. Someone
should slap some sense into the slut. Bitches like that are
what makes it so hard for me to get ahead in this world."
Colleen, ready to leave, pulled at my sleeve. This seedy
province known as Joytown scared her. She would never leave
my side.
The door opened again. "Come." It was the same whip of
a girl. Not an ounce of fat anywhere. Tiny black vinyl
skirt with a matching bra over what could only be A- cups.
Her heels made her as tall as Colleen. She turned sideways,
holding the door. For a minute Colleen and the girl stood
face to face, Colleen's bustier figure and pampered skin
making the other girl look like an old hag. And Colleen
knew it. Colleen has a look that she uses with other women.
It says I am, more beautiful and sexier than you. I will
get whatever I want. Whatever man I want too, including
yours. Most women just melt before it. For they know it to
be true. But this tiny girl took the look, and gave it back
with more. I took my wife's hand, she looked down to check
her step all the while being careful not to brush her
breasts against the other woman. Miss Vinyl smiled.
The noise was deafening. Rock music from cheap speakers
bleared, men laughed. I got a quick peek into the dark room
before vinyl girl pulled the curtain. The place was some
kind of strip club.
"Members only. So sorry." She spoke English! "This
way. Go. Boss man want talk."
His office was down a dimly lit hallway. A heavy man in
a little room watching a black and white monitor. In his
massive hands a tiny joystick controlling the picture. We
looked down on a bartender and cash register.
"Hello. Hello." He turned the monitor off. "Excuse me,
must watch employee. Turn back they steal you blind. Come.
Sit. He pointed and Vinyl girl whisked boxes of XXX videos
away. "I Mr. Vopat, proprietor. You pretty girl. Nice
figure. Vopat like."
"Er. thank you." Colleen was completely thrown off. She
pulled her chair against mine.
"Tam say you loose friend. Want to find?"
"Tam? Oh. Do you recognize their picture?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. Vopat see many girl. Not sure." He
held the picture up to the light. "Perhaps you tell more?
May, how you say, refresh? Memory."
Nervously Colleen launched into how Rebecca and Sarah had
being reported missing. Tam stood behind Colleen's chair.
I could see Colleen cringe as Tam took her hair, letting it
cascade through her fingers like a red waterfall before
rearranging it, tucking a strand neatly behind her ear. I
picked up the history as Colleen was visibly upset by Tam's
presence. There was something between the two women that
went beyond Colleen's dislike of Thai's. Why, she had even
refused a complementary massage at the hotel's spa, when she
found out that it was given by a Thai. Vopat said something
in Thai sending the vinyl girl scurrying from the room much
to Colleen's relief. All the while, Vopat listened,
politely nodding and asking for clarification on a minor
details. "What exactly did FBI say?" Glad to have finally
found a receptive audience, someone who may have actually
seen the girls, Colleen and I told him everything.
"So you go British Embassy for help?"
"Yes, on the first day here. We were leaving when the
receptionist felt sorry for us and told us of a Mr. John
Strangway." Colleen was feeling better with Tam out of the
room.
"Excuse me, you say Strangway?"
"Yes, do you know him? Anyway we meet him at his home.
They were packing to leave. He is a formal man, always
talking of the embassy. His wife Marguerite,."
"A beautiful woman," I added.
"yes, just gorgeous... she was awfully distracted, had
this nervous habit of rubbing herself, you now, down there,
like she was constantly horny. She did it unconsciously.
She just wanted to get out of Thailand. Said she did not
want to have the baby in Thailand. John insisted that she
have it. If it was up to her, there would be no baby!"
"Baby? How long is she? Vopat think two months."
"Yes. How did you know?"
"Vopat lucky," he answered.
"Sad story. Vopat, you got a smoke?" I spun and turned
towards the voice, man with Western features, yet somehow
plain and nondescript. "Call me Slash," he said. Tam stood
behind him. Goose bumps appeared on Colleen's neck.
"Slash help find your drug smuggling girls," Vopat said.
"How much you say reward for Sarah?"
"The insurance policy is for five hundred thousand
pounds. But only if she is found before she turns eighteen.
I told you three times. Have you seen them?"
"May have, it is hard to tell. So many runaways pass
through Joytown," Slash said. He sounded American.
"We could offer a reward, say 500 pounds if you can help
find them."
"Would like to help, but there may be a little problem.
See to get into the kind of places where they may be, you
have to blend in. You can understand that. We need a cover
and a way to get two strangers in. Are you willing?" Slash
looked straight into Colleen's green eyes.
Colleen jumped to her feet. "Hell, if I found them
Bodwell would *give* me the dam firm! We will do anything
you want, Mr. ?"
"Just call me Slash. Good. We have a lot of work to do.
First, Colleen you go with Tam, she will get you ahh,
something more suitable to wear. Reginald and I will check
you out of your hotel. You will be staying here, at
Vopat's, to ahh, blend in."
+++
"Hey. What is all this?" I asked. My wife sat on
Vopat's desk as Tam buckled the tiny straps on a pair of
heels as high as Tam's. I had been with Slash for the last
few hours. He insisted that we check out of the hotel and
even tell the embassy that we were going home.
"Reggie, thank Gosh. They want me to wear this shit. I
must look like the lowest street urchin. And she did.
Colleen was pushed up and squeezed in to a tiny black teddy
with silver tassels swaying from her tits. Her breasts were
two bubbles overflowing their lacy cups. Matching lace
garters held up stockings. And now the impossible heels.
"Tam take pretty dangles." With a swift swipe of her
hand she snatched Colleen's earrings before she could react.
"No need for this." Tam moved for the diamond on Colleen's
finger but her hand clenched into a tight fist. The two
girls struggled of a movement then Tam laughed, " you keep
ring. For now. We go for walk, now," Tam commanded. "You
heard the lady, walk." Colleen gingerly let go of the desk,
testing her balance. Taking tiny steps she swayed after
Tam. Through the club full of dancing girls and drunken
men, the light was dim but I could still make out a girl
with her head in a mans lap. Slash prodded me forward
through heavy curtains, then restaurant type double doors
through a kitchen. A greasy stainless steel refrigerator,
taller than I slid aside at his touch. It must have weighed
a ton. Through a narrow hatch we slid, Colleen carefully
stepping through the opening, her head bent low.
The room was surprisingly large with walls of concrete
block, hastily sprayed with thin white paint. "Put this on,
pretty boy." I held it up. A pair of flaming red shorts.
"Unless you want to go without?" He was serious. I looked
around, finding no place to change, I turned aside to
undress.
"I think we better leave," Colleen's voice sounded shaky.
"You want to find your girl friends don't you?," Slash
asked.
"It time," Tam said. "I get honored guest."
"Get her ready. Girly you stand over here." Vopat,
tugged her deeper into the room.
"No. I want to leave now. Stop. You are hurting me.
Reginald! Do something. Stop you huge baboon. Reginald!"
"Er, guys, let her go, OK?" In their silly elastic
shorts, with my cock balled up it was hard to sound
threatening. But I had to try. Colleen was struggling
between huge Vopat and Slash. Already one arm was being
lifted to the ceiling by a rope. Slash was hooking a black
bracelet over her other hand. I rushed him, head down with
all my might. He slipped aside, like a practiced
bullfighter. Taking me by my waistband he directed my
momentum to the wall. I spun around and took a swing. He
caught my arm pinning it back against the concrete. I
looked up and it was locked in place. Before I could
understand how he managed that, my other arm was dragged up
and latched. He stood back and laughed as I leaned towards
him shaking my elbows in rage. With the toe of his boot he
rubbed my balled up cock, reminding me how vulnerable I was.
Shirtless with only tiny stretch shorts, I felt like a Fire
Island fag. Slash turned to help Vopat cuff my wife's legs,
pulling them until Colleen hung like a sack, dangling by
feet and arms still screaming her head off, kicking like
crazy. Vopat gave her a shove. I could only think of
reasserting my manhood somehow. Watching Colleen sway back
and forth, I felt the elastic tighten as my cock grew.
"Ahh, here they are now. Your Emperors. Tam stepped
aside for two Asians. Vopat bowed deeply. One was older,
with wrinkled leathery skin, the other an inch less and much
younger. Their greetings quickly turned to business, Vopat
speaking fluently in Japanese. They exchanged bows again
and turned to inspect the merchandise. Vopat put a hand on
Colleen's bottom to steady her. Together the two men walked
around their prize, craning their necks to check between her
legs, her feet even underneath. All the while Vopat rattled
on in Japanese, pointing out an overlooked feature of
Colleen's. His big hands pulled the black teddy aside. A
swift pull yanked a pubic hair from her mound. With pride
he held it against her head. "See same color," then
catching himself he repeated it in Japanese. The men
stopped to examine her head more closely. The younger one
lifted her hair letting it fall through his fingers.
"Father and son. They like Western women," Slash
whispered to me. "Love to fuck `em. Especially the long
red hair. He said he will soak it in cum. Ha, ha. Don't
worry they don't understand English. Wealthy Japanese
business men. Made their money in shipping. Come to here
`cause they know Vopat can get them the best flesh. Fresh
stuff."
Vopat was showing off my wife's breast, now. Her tit was
in his hand. He flicked the already erect nipple with his
fingernail making the men smile as Colleen cried out. The
older man was gesturing with his hands, then pulled out his
key-ring. "What is he saying?," I asked.
"He is asking if he can pierce the nipple." Vopat was
nodding his head. "Vopat says yes. Wait." Vopat was
listing intently looking all the time at the key-ring.
Slash continued, "He wants the nipple. Two thousand Yen.
Wants it pierced so he can hang it on his key-ring. It will
bring him much honor when driving his cronies to golf."
Colleen could tell that somehow her breast was in jeopardy.
She kicked and screamed, even managed to spin over, her back
arched at a horrible angle.
"How much do you love her?" Slash asked me.
"A lot. Stop them. Vopat would sell his own mother."
"Then give her up. To me. Or she looses her nipples.
Vopat is asking for five. What will it be?"
"What exactly do you mean," I asked.
"No time. Yes or no?" The older man held out his hand.
"OK, OK. She is yours. Just don't let them do that!"
Everyone looked at me. I was screaming. Slash was speaking
in Thai. I heard the word upcountry and made out Chiang
Mai. Vopat nodded and shrugged his shoulders at the other
men in the universal expression for so sorry.
The two men dressed in expensive shark skin suits,
approached. Vopat pointed at me with obvious pride. They
avoided my eyes but looked at my crotch. Slash, pulled my
shorts to my knees. "He told them that you are her husband.
They say you are a dishonorable to let disgrace befall your
woman. Not fit to suck their cocks," Slash explained to me.
Vopat laughed, nodding his head in agreement. "He is going
to get a mint for this one. They will pay plenty to
humiliate a beautiful Western girl in front of her husband."
As he spoke, a wad of folded bills changed hands. Vopat
handed it to Tam who flicked through the bills, nodded at
Vopat before replacing the money in his palm. The best bank
in Joytown.
"Well I got to run. Try and get some sleep, we go
upcountry tomorrow." Slash patted my head, like I was a
little boy. Vopat waddled through the opening, Slash shut
the hatch behind him, leaving us alone with Tam, father and
son.
You like scented oil or plain? Whatever you want Tam get
for honored guest." There were a few moments of polite
embarrassment while the men undressed. The younger one
turned to me, stroked his rising shaft and put his hand on
Colleen's exposed tit. He did not have to speak a word.
Again I shook in my chains. "Yankee behave or Tam get gag."
"Please turn me over. My back can't stand it," Colleen
was pleading.
Forgetting my predicament, the two men bumped shoulders
while getting between my wife's legs. Father politely
insisted that his son take the honor of first fuck. In a
superhuman effort, her rage turned her over, twisting her
legs around the man. Laughing he kissed and licked behind
her knees. Tam moved to gag her, but Father brushed her
away. His boy, pulled abruptly at her legs spinning her
like a top, face down again. He declined the oil from Tam
and worked his hands in the crack of Colleen's rear. She
and I hollered as he pulled her apart while spearing her.
His head went back, his legs spread for leverage and he
thrust, his calves a knot of muscle. Tam took Colleen's
waist and rocked her gently in rhythm into the young man.
Father moved aside to give me an unobstructed view as they
fucked into my woman. Her cries were obviously getting to
Tam, she pulled the red hair, forcing Colleen's head back
and her mouth open. An invitation for the Japanese warrior.
His son grunted in satisfaction, climaxing in Colleen while
Dad entered her mouth. Before my shocked eyes he savored
every inch of her penetration. Taking her head between his
hands he so very slowly pulled her mouth down the length of
his shaft. It took forever, all the while his face a mask
of concentration. The younger man squatted underneath
Colleen's open legs, regaining his breath.
Still Colleen's mouth was less than half way down his
cock, when his eyes flew open. He pulled from her, slapped
her and turned his back on her, facing me his arms folded
against his chest. His cock had shrunk and was red as if
stung by a bee. The younger one jumped up, Tam sprung to
life, producing a huge black whip with many strands. The
man said something, his eyes never leaving mine. Tam
immediately flayed at Colleen's back with the whip. But
that was not enough. Honor had been taken. The son tore
the teddy from Colleen leaving her naked body swaying and
subdued. He yanked the whip away and laid into her with a
ferocity that I had never seen. Again and again he whipped
at her ass and back swinging the whip to strike the sides of
her breasts. I was cursing at them, telling the old man to
stop. Then I understood. I hung limp against the wall,
bowing my head.
"Please my Emperor."
He raised a hand and the beating stopped. His son ran to
him, showing him the whip before throwing it down and
spitting on it. Apparently he would have preferred a bull
whip to beat my woman. The father spoke in Japanese, all
the while looking at me. Tam explained it all, "He
honorable man. Give you chance to be man again. You
cooperate he let you down, not beat your woman like dog.
You go talk to woman, now."
Tam had pulled the ridiculous stretch shorts off. It was
good to get off the wall. I bowed and circled around the
men. The Emperors.
"Colleen, listen. They are not giving me much time. You
have to cooperate with these men." Her back was crimson red
an overlapping maze of red welts. One hit on the side of
her breast where it never gets sun, was especially harsh,
cutting into her flesh. "Take them, satisfy them, call them
Emperor."
"N never."
"They pay big Yen. Good customer. Come back many time.
Vopat say they be satisfied, whatever it take," Tam added.
"Colleen?" I looked into hatred filled eyes.
"They say, take her down," Tam was undoing the ropes. To
me she said, "He say you put your woman on his cock now."
He stood legs apart, arms folded, cock sticking out at
us. When we did not move, his son came toward us, whip in
hand. Trembling Colleen stood, with tiny steps in those
high heels she took my hand and moved towards her emperor.
There were rope marks around her ankles and wrists. Again
an order in Japanese. "Crawl, worthless dog," Tam
commanded. Tam pushed me down besides my wife. Together we
crawled to his feet. For the first time I looked up a man's
erection, seeing what a woman sees, his balls hairy and
hanging heavy with cum, cock thick with purple veins,
looking ready to explode. As I watched, a drop of cum,
perfectly clear and glistening magically appeared at its
single eye. Shocked and revolted I starred. How could a
woman bring herself to suck such a thing? Whack! The boy
laid into Colleen, a moment later I too felt his whip.
Painful yes, but worse is the lingering sting. Not even
able to protest, to just take it, exposed all the time for
another against your back or ass. A woman's punishment.
"Put her mouth on," Tam warned. I took Colleens face,
kissed her on the lips then positioned her lips to the tip
of his cock.
"Better say it," Tam ordered.
Two words, "My Emperor," I don't know if they caught the
sarcasm in Colleen's voice, but his penis grew to touch her
full pink lips. He placed a heavy hand on my head. I knew
immediately what it as for. I was his control. He directed
my head and I guided Colleen the way he wanted, all for his
satisfaction. On my knees I so slowly moved Colleen's head
down the length of his shaft. No one spoke, all was
concentrated on his pleasure. Colleen's mouth was open wide
desperately trying to suck air around the thick shaft
entering her throat. Every two or three minutes he would
push my head out then quickly pull it back. A sign that I
could pull Colleen off. With a gush, she would suck in a
lung full of air before I impaled her again on his swollen
shaft. Again and again off an on, he only allowed smallest
movement down his cock. She raised her eyes to his with
relief when at long last her lips touched his sack. His son
had positioned her hands behind her back. I could see her
throat bulge with him. His grip tightened on my head then
rocked me furiously. I may have been slow for the son
lashed me with the whip. I rammed Colleen's head back and
forth as hard as I could, the lashes still burning on my
back. Her mouth made slurping noises as she fucked him with
her face. Finally he came shooting long ropes of white goo,
the spunk flying everywhere on her face, her hair, eyes,
tongue. Another shudder and a stream flew wildly catching
me across the face. I moved to wipe it off, but his son
grabbed my wrist in an iron grip. It and Colleen's spray
would dry on our faces.
"Thank you, my Emperor." Tam beamed with pride that
Colleen remembered with only a few strokes.
My legs ached, my knees were raw. Colleen was exhausted,
each breath labored. All night she and I had been servicing
the emperors. Tam had led me naked through the club,
bringing back bamboo mats, beer and sushi. The emperors sat
and ate while Tam thought Colleen to dance like a Geisha.
Then one of them would put his beer aside and signal. That
was my clue to position Colleen the way he wanted. Taking
her by the calves I would pull her legs to her head or open
her pussy to lay her soft folds against their eager cocks.
No one cared about my building desire. Naked my erection
throbbing, I had to help the youngest Emperor come in her
hair twice in a row. Colleen fared no better, the slightest
slap on her backside, still raw from the first beating, or
even the threat of the whip was enough to get her thrusting
and moaning, her heels flying in the air, her head bobbing
at the cock in her mouth. During the night they thought her
how to courtesy and say "Thank you my Emperor" in Japanese,
at every order while Tam held my head to her hot crotch.
When they choose Colleen, instead of me, to hold their
pricks while they pissed, I was grateful.
Kneeling behind Tam, I massaged her shoulders and watched
the emperors play with Colleen. Her hair, looking more
brown than the usual red, hung in long sticky strands on her
shoulders. A strand curled to her cheek, stuck to cum at
the corner of her lips. Naked except for heels she played
with the limp cock in her face, bending down to kiss the
opening and rising to smile at its owner. The other called,
she smiled and bowed, thanked her emperor and carefully made
a nest in her hair for his growing prick. I shut it out,
and concentrated on pleasing the hard muscles of Tam's
whipping arm.
The emperors were drained, passed out with smiles on
their faces amidst the empty beer bottles. Tam led us, as
docile as lambs to a room, no larger than a closet. "You
make good whore," she smiled at Colleen. Beyond the tiny
barred window the sun was rising.
We lay on an old blanket. I turned to Colleen. "What are
you doing Reginald? Get off me." But she was to tired to
fight. She smelled of them, her hair even her breath but I
did not care. I slid in easily in the sloppy hole and
fucked madly at her limp body. Not a moan or a shake. I
thought of her performing for them and came hard into my
wife.
Beyond Chiang Mai
Chapter -- 4, Jungle Vipers
We had been bouncing around in an ancient pick up truck
for hours. Long ago someone had decided to saw off the top
turning it into a ragged edged convertible. Colleen, half
asleep, was wedged between Slash and myself on the torn
seat. There was not much room, she had to sit with a leg on
each side of the hump. In between gear shifts he rested his
hand on her exposed sex. I could not do anything about it,
both of my hands were handcuffed to a bar where the glove
compartment used to be. Like me, Colleen gripped the bar to
keep the steel handcuffs from digging into her wrist. We
had at most, an hour's sleep before Slash had appeared at
the door. He threw some clothes at us and told Colleen to
wash the gunk off, we would be leaving in five minutes.
The clothes were not much. Shorts and an oversize T-
shirt for me, a plain black dress, more of a sack, for her.
My new Nike's were gone, replaced by scandals made from cut
down tires for both of us. After we cleared the town and
headed into the hills, Slash took the tarp off and let us
join him up in the open cab. The sun beat down on us,
drenching us in sweat. Colleen's bare bottom stuck to the
torn vinyl seat, her dress bunched up at her waist. Her
pink bra with a strap cut, hug from where mirror should have
been. Another bump launched us completely off the seat. As
I watched she opened her legs wider, perhaps to brace
herself, but I suspect, for his hand.
The sun had fallen behind the trees, as we crested yet
another hill. Below was a village. Si Racha, he called it.
Slash parked the old truck in the brush and told us to cover
it branches.
"Whatever for?," Colleen wanted to know.
"Do you think there is valet parking out here? Think of
it as insurance. Listen, Chiang Mai is just over that hill.
Officially it is a government run re-education camp for
whores. Something they can point to when Sixty Minutes
comes calling. The rest of the time it is a playground for
Army brass. I heard what the generals have done to Thai
girls." Slash shook his head. He pointed to a huge
backpack. I staggered under its weight. "Do you realize
what those SOB's would do to a sexy redhead?"
"Is that where you are taking us?," she asked. Colleen
rubbed at her wrists, glad to be free of the handcuffs as we
headed down the hill. "To sell me to the generals?"
"Unfortunately, they don't pay for their pussy. You
wanted to find that girl, Sarah. For that we have to go
beyond Chiang Mai."
"Where too?," I asked.
"No name. It doesn't exist. Always moving, just beyond
the border. But first we spend the night at Si Racha. I
know some people there."
Colleen had fallen behind as we climbed over a fallen
tree trunk. She saw her chance and bolted, running like mad
up the hill, to the truck. "Shit." Slash ran after her,
dropping his pack along the way. "Should have hobbled the
damn bitch." She had the truck started but only the balky
gear shift kept her from getting away.
"You are not taking me anywhere. I won't be your
prisoner anymore. I just won't." In her anger she failed
to see the determination in Slash's face. She was locked to
the steering wheel by the time I got up the hill. Slash was
back in a moment a bamboo pole in his hand. He gagged her
screaming and cursing with her own pink bra and without a
word slid the pole between her strapped arms and legs. I
had caught that look. When he pointed, I did not wait. I
hoisted the pole over my shoulder holding it with both
hands. It was surprisingly easy, perhaps because I had her
feet. She was screaming into her bra. "I am not taking the
cuffs off. Lock your feet around the pole. It will be
easier on you," he advised.
As we neared the little village, the children called out
running to escort us. Into the village we strode. Colleen
swayed by her hands and feet with each step. Looking over
my shoulder, I could see her pussy for the dress fell to her
waist and hung from her like a tent. The children were
running around us pointing at her red pussy hair. Women and
old men gathered around examining the curly red hair.
"Once I saw yellow hair. On a mother and daughter." A
native girl with dark hair, straight and long, was speaking.
"But never red. What next? Green?" She wore a flowered
sarong for a skirt, wrapped tightly around her and tucked
seductively at her waist. She reached to feel the tight
curls, "Feel strong, springy like a wild boar. It means she
can fuck for a long time." Sanya was a young woman, her
body small and compact. Older women were quiet when she
spoke. "You look surprised that I speak your language. I
taught myself. From tapes and television."
In the clearing was a little satellite dish. A sign of
the times. I wondered why so many others had a problem
speaking proper English. We lowered the poles to waist
level, putting Colleen's back in the dirt. The children
laughed as their pet pig stuck his wet snout to her snatch.
"This is Sanya, she is kind of the mayor, medicine man
and witch all rolled into one. She runs this place, " he
explained. "I am taking this pilgrim and his ungrateful
bitch upcountry. She's a runner," he warned. Colleen was
jerking violently and moaning into her bra, but the pig
continued to grunt sloppily, into her.
"It is late. The soldiers do not come after dark," Sanya
looked to the darkening sky. "We can use the market."
It was nothing more than a bare wooden platform to keep
the food out of the dirt. A monkey, excited by the
approaching villagers, chattered and ran until his chain
snapped him back. A young girl gathered the furry animal in
her arms, while an old man, grinning and toothless, unhooked
the leash turning to fasten it as I watched, to my wife's
neck. He went about converting Colleen from a hung beast
to a tethered pet as if it was routine.
"This is a way-station in the pipeline," Slash answered
my unspoken question. "For what?," I asked, but he only
smiled. "Tip the man," Slash ordered. "For his work," he
was looking at Colleen, who was just now realizing what it
means to be chained to a post, by your neck.
"With what? You took everything."
"Listen pilgrim, she was your woman. I took her and she
will obey me. Out here there are two types of women, those
who have proven to be equals and the rest. You understand
me, boy?"
I understood, "You want me to give her to him?" The old
man grinned his toothless grin at me, his hand holding his
jewels.
"Hell no. Just a tip. Point to her mouth or cunt and he
will understand. Hurry, I feel like a little tip of my
own."
I could not do it. Not to Colleen. Could not bear the
thought of this ragged ancient rice farmer, in Colleen's.
No. She was pulling at the lock, each pull harder, more
frantic. She turned and yanked the chain with all her
might. It did not budge. She was furious, now, but also
tired of screaming. Still she tried, to scream my name. I
was looking at her, but the others didn't even turn their
heads. I nodded at her. That was what the old man was
waiting for. He grabbed her chain pulling it hand over hand
working Colleen towards the pole. With a quick movement he
pulled something from his black pajamas shoving it below her
waist. It was a little stun gun made for women's self
defense. Colleen jerked, her arms flying wildly. I cried
out, but Slash put a restraining hand on my shoulder. The
man guided the slumping woman against the pole. Her hands
were pulled up and swiftly lashed above her. Standing back,
his legs on either side of her sitting body, he pulled his
gown up, while all around children played, the old women
chewed their sugar cane and watched. I could see Colleen's
face, she was just coming around. The man circled her face
with his cock each time across her tightly clenched lips it
grew straighter, more red. Against her eyes he pushed, then
pinching her cheeks with one hand he forced her tight lips
apart. Colleen had regained some control of her body. She
was yanking her arms her unsupported breasts shook, her
dress was hooked below one tit. The man stuck a piece of
bamboo between her teeth and followed with his erection. He
was a moaner, not much thrusting, working the stick in her
mouth he controlled what she did, hands at her head ensured
that my wife pleased him, moaning in pleasure, all the time.
Mats had been arranged, the elders lit scented tiki lamps
around the stage. Others were serving from deep bowls. I
sat down one of the young village girls squeezing in beside
me. The old man was finishing up on stage to the joyous
hoots and hollers from the local women. The girl beside me
scooped rice on to my plate, pouring steaming thick sauce
with chunks of meat and vegetables over it. It was good, I
didn't ask. On stage young boys were darting in at Colleen,
snatching at her dress, trying to expose her other breast,
before running back to the others, safe from her kicking
legs. The girls ignored her. I noticed that there were no
young men in the village.
The boys were getting bolder. Unable to expose her other
breast they ran at her in groups, trying to tear the dress
from her. She would have nothing of it. Her kick caught
one, sending him sliding off the platform. He was still
for a moment before dusting himself off and rejoining the
attack. I brought a plate to her, sending the boys running.
She was filthy, her face streaked with drying cum. As mad
as she was, she was still glad to see me. I undid her hands
and tucked her back into her dress.
"Those pigs! How could they, how could you?," she
demanded of me.
"Colleen, honey, I will get you out of this, somehow.
Just endure it for a little while longer. Think of the
insurance money. Think of how grateful Old Man Bodwell will
be. Think of how much the old geezer will pay."
"I will not endure being chained like a," she searched
for a word.
"Like a monkey?," Sanya, supplied the word. Colleen's
face turned crimson. She tore again at the lock at her
throat. "Get me OOOUUUUUTTTT !"
"Give me your shirt," I told Sanya. "To wipe her face."
Seeing Sanya taking an order calmed Colleen down but did not
stop her rage. I had the topless Sanya feed her before she
went ballistic again. She knelt at arm's length feeding her
with chopsticks. Her breasts were tiny cones on her chest
almost no aurora around dark brown, nipples. I could feel
myself stirring. To do her here. In front of the entire
village. Perhaps even her family. In front of my wife tied
and helpless, the taste of a stranger's cum still on her
lips, her back raw from a fierce beating and a cunt so
thoroughly fucked. I thought of Colleen servicing the
emperors, "he will give you a chance to be a man again," his
words rang in my ears. I was bursting in my pants. I
thought of the moaning old man with her, in her. I had to
have her. To take her. Here. Now.
Thin and light as a feather, she spun around in my arms,
hastily she shoved the bowl aside. The girl was no stranger
to love. Sanya was under me, arms around me, I sought her
mouth with mine. Sweet, darting probing tongue. We tore at
each others clothes, there was nothing under the sarong. I
paused to pull her farther away from Colleen's kicking legs.
There was a lot of zestful hooting and hollering from the
villagers all around us. I blocked them out. Concentrating
on one thing, one goal. And it was there in front of me. A
triangle of curly dark hair, her thighs thin and opened for
me. She reached up with delicate arms. My body found hers.
Her folds, resisted, again and my head barely entering, all
the while her moans a delight in my ear. Again I pushed,
wetter now, her body yielding to my assault, flowing around
me, taking me. Her pussy was her body. I pushed and she
slid higher on the platform. Pulling back brought her head
down, not a word spoken only delightful cries of a building
orgasm. I grasped her head in my hands and pumped my hips
against her, my cries mingling with hers. Her cunt seized
me, clutching, fluttering, imploding. I exploded into her
orgasm. Draining myself her body squeezing every gush from
me. Far away others were talking but we shut them out. She
hugged me to her and together we rested at my wife's feet.
++++
"It is good that you came, it loosens you up," Sanya, the
mayor sat beside me. Around us, the villagers laughed as
they ate. Slash was busy flirting with a flock of juvenile
girls, trying to get them to flash their breasts.
"You needed that, I could see your stress. American?
Canadian? No matter, you can never understand how different
it is in the hill country. More elemental. It is better."
The pack of boys came back, the tallest one asking
something of Sanya in their pubescent sing-song speech. She
glanced at me, "But you have to adjust." She nodded her
head and the boys giggling like girls ran off. "Man or
woman, a whore is treated like a whore. A bitch is a
bitch." She paused to hand me a cup. "Foreigners never
understand."
The boys had re-gathered at the platform, swarming around
my scowling Colleen. Like a practiced pack, those in front
of her distracted her, grabbing at her feet, snatching her
sandals away while behind her, another undid the monkey's
chain. They did not waste any time. With three boys on the
chain they yanked Colleen to her feet. Her hands flew to
the crude collar around her neck to prevent choking.
Screaming in anger she ran after the leader, but he easily
stayed ahead of her, the chain dragging in the dust behind
him. Seeing the futility of it, Colleen stopped but the
boys were having too much fun. They gathered on the chain
pulling Colleen around the village market place. Up and
down the street, Colleen at first crying out, hollering at
me, at Slash, cursing everyone then becoming quiet, resigned
to be pulled in dusty circles by these kids as the villagers
laughed and pointed. The boys were becoming bolder, darting
in to tear at her black dress. A small rip under her sleeve
grew with each tug. Seeing this they grabbed the black
cloth from both sides tearing her only piece of clothing
from her body in the middle of the street. The village fell
silent at the sight of her bruised back. Colleen stood
naked, out of breath, her breasts heaving in the light from
the fires. The boys, respectfully tracing the deep purplish
welts of the emperor's strap, down her back, down across her
rump.
++++
Moonlight from the window shone on Sanya's body. She had
fallen asleep, her head resting on my crotch, long hair
falling over my balls, between my legs. In the next hut,
Slash was doing two girls. One was making slurping noises
while the other moaned. He had checked that Colleen was
safely resting, again chained on her platform. Sanya's
words echoed in my head as I fell asleep. "Foreigners never
understand."
Beyond Chiang Mai
Chapter -- 5, Human Vipers
We kept to the small trails, heading up one mountain
after another. After the first day we stopped complaining.
We just followed completely blind to the jungle all around.
My steps never more than feet behind Slash. The thought of
being lost behind in this wilderness too real and
frightening. Tiny trails crossed at every angle yet Slash
never hesitated, following no course that I could perceive.
Once in a while there was a tug at my waist but Colleen was
quick to get more slack to her chain. Slash had locked it
around my waist to keep my hands free. Like a monkey whose
collar she wore, Colleen, quite at last, followed.
A curious sight, she tagged along in an outfit that would
make a bar girl blush. Sanya had provided it, perhaps she
saw yet another chance to humiliation the Western beauty.
Colleen wore a thin white top now stained with four days
sweat and dirt over a tiny pink skirt. She wore the same
tire sandals as me, but carried a pair of heels around her
neck. Slung over her back was a pack as big as mine.
All day, Slash had been driving us at a relentless pace,
pushing us down smaller paths, always deeper into the
jungle. The going was rough. We climbed over fallen trees,
over roots high as our waist. There was no sun, only a
canopy of green. Once in a while the sound of a helicopter
or small plane would pierce where sunlight could not.
The brush rustled. I looked up. We were surrounded by
men with rifles. Just that quickly. Dressed in loincloths
or the remnants of military pants, they carried old US Army
rifles and sinister looking communist weapons.
"Khmer Rouge. Follow me, and shut her up!" Without a
word, the ring of men parted to let us through. A little
further and we were crossing a runaway lined with private
planes. Gulfstreams and Lear Jets were parked between sleek
helicopters. These guys did not have to hump four days
through the jungle. They traveled in style. As we walked a
golf cart speed past carrying two bearded men, in white
flowing robes holding their turbans against the wind.
"What is this place?," I asked. The cart left a cloud of
dust as it sped to the stone gate. Flanked by carvings of
giant Buddhas, their stone bellies chipped by gunfire, the
gate was guarded by more armed Khmer Rouge. Orange clad
men, their heads shaven, milled around with hands cupped
together.
"A pagoda. Of sorts," he added quickly. "It's sponsored
by the monks. Like everyone else, they need the money."
With a bow, the monk in orange robe and basketball
shoes, took Slash's pistol and knife at the gate. Colleen's
eyes fixed on spot in the distance as the grinning guard
felt her down for weapons.
Inside the walled compound a large camouflage tent stood,
the sides rolled up to let in what little breeze there was.
Two Arabs were seated under an overhead fan. A group of men
passed, their conversation in German interrupted to whistle
at Colleen as she followed, still leashed.
"Over there. Lets get her cleaned up."
In the shade, a smaller tent was set up overhanging the
river. Women in orange sarongs scurried about. Slash gave
an elderly woman some money and the three of us collapsed in
chairs set in the shallow water. "Take care of her first,"
Slash told the women. And they swarmed over Colleen. Three
native girls, straight raven black hair flowing, picked her
chair up, placing her deeper in the shaded water. Her
clothes came off, the collar unlocked, tossed on the bank.
It was not as private as Colleen was use too but she was
enjoying it. The native women swarmed over her. Soaping
her, shampooing her, massaging her tired legs. As the women
finished they turned their attentions to Slash and I. Soon
we too were naked, a smiling Cambodian beauty gently soaping
my balls and cock.
I awoke to a sweet scent, a perfume of some sort. Musky,
but so very feminine. My eyes opened to Slash's finger
wagging under my nose and a beautiful local with her sarong
pulled up, in his arms.
"Nothing like the smell of pussy to wake a man up. Get
dressed, Romeo, we got to raise some money."
"Why? You already cashed all my travelers checks."
Still drowsy, I lay nude on a massage table.
"Listen, do you want a chance of seeing Roxanne and Sarah
again, or not? Now, how can we raise some money?"
I pulled a towel around my waist. Two girls were
attending to a long legged blonde. One was busy with her
nails while the other delicately shaved a leg with a
straight razor. Two men their hair slicked back, shinning
in the afternoon light and speaking Spanish, looked on.
"Colleen gives good head.." I froze. I had said that.
What was happening to me, that I would offer my wife for
blow jobs in some dusty hell hole in the middle of this dam
jungle.
"I didn't mean that. Really. Its the fucking heat. I
am tired. Four days on the trail.."
"Yes you did. And you know it. But don't worry she wont
have to suck anyone off. The men around here already have a
mouth waiting. These bastards are hard-core. They are
looking for something more."
I looked again at the blonde. She looked like a Madison
Avenue model without her clothes. Tall and sleek,
Scandinavian straight blonde hair. Her breast could be
silicone or she was just lucky. Full and round, not a hint
of sag, but then she was 22, 24 at the most. What was she
doing with those two greasy scum-bags? She spoke in short
phrases as if speaking to herself. It could be Swedish but
the women around her took their direction from the men.
I had my pants on. "More?" But Slash had turned away,
calling for Colleen. She was furious, happy and beautiful,
her expressions changing by the second. Two monks, their
heads shaven and in orange robes led her by her arms. A
flash of a smile crossed her face when she saw me then the
anger again. Her hair had been washed and she wore lipstick
but she was in a robe like the monks, only in black.
"Why the plain robe, Slash? That not the way you like
your women."
"Dam it, Reginald! I am not his woman. Not yours, not
anyone's." She glared at me. "I just want to go. Let me
go!" She threw her arms out, breaking free of the monks
only to fall into Slash's firm grip.
"Come. We are already late."
They were waiting for us. A tent , similar to the main
one, the sides rolled up. Chairs around a boxing ring
without the ropes. Monks were busy hanging mosquito netting
and lighting lanterns. Girls carried frosty cold beers on
little round trays to seated men. The few western women
were in the were flanked by men. They looked down at hands
folded in their laps, ignoring the woman hanging in the
ring. A nice body, smallish tits but with long shapely
legs that Asian men just die for. Two monks were laboring
to take her down, stooping to undo the bar at her legs,
lowering her nude form before freeing her hands. A small
Thai man came on stage to claim the woman. He slapped his
leg and the tall brunette got to her feet. Obviously sore
and in discomfort she limped after him, her hands crossed
over her tiny bare tits, down the steps.
Monks sitting by the boxing ring typed madly at a
portable computer. Slash slowly spelled Colleen, while
another monk measured her as if for a good suit. Her
height, waist, inseams and a dozen more numbers were typed
into the little box. "Making a profile," was all Slash
said, to my questions. The monk motioned and I gently pried
my wife's mouth open for his inspection. Another clipped a
bracelet marked with lines around her ankle.
A murmur went through the tent. I saw all were huddled
around portable computers their fingers tracing lines on
tiny folding screens. Prices flashed across the monk's
computer. Colleen pushed me aside to get a better view of
the small screen as the numbers went higher still. She
realized it, before me! Screaming she tore at the men but
the monks were experienced. In a moment her hands were
pinned to her side, her voice fading as she realized that it
was inescapable. She was watching herself being sold!
The monk was pointing to an old man wearing an even older
military jacket. He grinned showing gold teeth as we
approached. "You no speak Vietnamese? You should learn.
Ahh. She much pretty. Jap computer no show how pretty. I
take." He signed the monk's clipboard in two places.
"String her up. I Thong, Commander in Peoples Third North
Vietnamese Army. I beat French. I beat you. Make Yankee
dog run with ass in air. Haa. Haa. Now Thong fuck your
woman. But first she sing for Thong. Haa haaa."
"You better follow the rules you old. or I will.."
The monk, his face blank of any emotion, interrupted
Slash, "Rules here strictly enforced. Have no worry."
But the old man had the last word, "American cunt sing
well and sing loud for Commander Thong."
Colleen looked back over her shoulder as the monks led
her onto the ring. The orange robes flurried around stunned
Colleen as we took a seat by the ring. A slim girl brought
an ice cold beers. I looked up to see Colleen stripped and
spread eagled. Strips of red cloth tied her feet and hands
to bamboo sticks. Two orange clad monks pulled with all
their weight, until her feet left the canvas. All the while
the old Commander grinned and watched. Their work done, the
monks bowed and withdrew leaving a little table at his side.
My seat was too low to see if anything was on the table but
it made Colleen dance in mid air. God she is beautiful
creature!
Thong must has thought so too, for he took off his shirt
revealing a body surprisingly strong for such an old man.
His hands went to her body. She threw her head back in
desperation but her body betrayed her. Despite her cries,
her hips shimmered in the air, her nipples hardened at his
touch. The monk's adjusted the spotlight, leaving twin gray
shadows under her stiff nipples. He turned his attention to
her center, his hands diving deep into her defenseless
pussy. He withdrew a hand drawing a finger under her nose
until she was forced to breathe her own scent. Then he
plunged his finger into her mouth. The crowd watched
talking quietly among themselves or busied themselves with
the computer inventory. Thong made tiny circular motions
over her pussy with one hand while steadying the small of
her back with the other. A rhythm was slowly developing to
Colleen's hips, the wild dancing turning into a push then a
thrusting motion. The long legged beauty across from us,
still naked from her turn on stage, had raised her head to
look. A moan, low and breathy, welling in from somewhere
deep inside, escaped Colleen's lips. She was dancing again,
her tummy muscles rippling with contractions, firm thighs
quivering as she came for Thong's wrinkled fingers. Her
gasps, louder now, had caught the audience's attention. All
eyes were on her, dangling open in every way, her eyes
glassy, face neck and chest beet red. Colleen sucked at
Thong's fingers.
Thong was just getting ready. NVA green trousers feel to
the floor. He stood, turning for all to see in military
green jockey shorts a growing erection sticking out. He
grinned his gold grin, proud as a peacock. Fuck her and get
it over with, I thought, resigning myself to the inevitable.
Even Colleen looked eager for her rape. And he did.
Bracing himself he bore into her, holding deep, then
withdrawing completely to enter her again. For a moment her
eyes scanned the room she could no longer deny it to
herself. Her red blush spread even further down. Thong was
holding deep in her, reaching for the little table. Her
breasts, my source of pleasure, were at his eye level. His
hands took the breast over her heart capturing her nipple
between thumb and forefinger. He held a long sinister
looking needle for her to see. For minutes he teased her,
listening to her deep breathy pleas to the man fucking her.
Bargaining with her then declining but appearing interested
in her next desperate but pitiful offer. Thong patiently
explained to her that he could and was already was fucking
her and her painted mouth was only good for drinking his
piss, but still she offered. I moved to stand but Slash
stopped me. Then he did it. Ever so slowly he pushed that
long needle all the way through her nipple. She screamed
and squirmed on the bastards prick. He enjoying the torment
of the American lovely. Leaving the needle piercing her
tit, he moved to the other breast. Colleen steeled herself,
and paid for it. The needle went in but he made her pay.
She screamed, head back mouth open wide, not words just a
scream from the back of her throat as Thong pumped into her
faster ad faster till he just stopped. When he withdrew his
cum seeped down her thigh. He left her like that. Hanging,
her chest and tits heaving with each breath. Arms and legs
in giant V's, a needle flat through each nipple.
The monks were busy typing in information on a petite
brunette that looked like she should be on a beach in
Hawaii, so we had to sit and wait for them to take her down.
Thong came by, still in his underwear. "American hussy
dance and sing for Thong. American pussy not trained well.
No muscle control. Flabby. Thong like French woman best.
American cunt fat like Marines. Fat, slow, turn chicken and
cry like pig. Haa. Haa. Thong see new American. Little
brown hair girl. Me like. Thong make her sing. Long time.
Haa. Haa." With that, he strolled off to bid with the
monks.
The monks apologized for keeping her hanging for so long.
They offered a pair of hoops to make amends. Slash showed
me how to do it. Colleen was told to spread her legs and
place her hands on her head. Just push the needle through
with the ring. Thrilling but painful for her. And like
that she followed. Somehow perceiving that protesting was
futile. Naked cupping sore breasts in her hands she walked
between us to the jungle's edge.
Women waited for us, on their table another portable
computer lit by an ancient lantern. One girl knelt to scan
the bracelet on Colleen's leg while the other snapped a
braided wire to her neck. Slash was speaking in Thai, I
made out the names Roxanne and Sarah. A Cambodian girl
dressed in green silk bowed saying "Ahh, yes," and picking
up a lantern, gestured for us to follow. But they had
different plans for Colleen. By the steel necklace she was
pulled off in the other direction.
They were in a row, sheltered from the tropical sun by
the overhanging trees. A straight row as identical as hand
made units can be. Some were empty others had an overturned
bowl, a few stunk with waste. But most were clean with a
woman laying on the narrow cot or reaching out for us
through the bamboo bars. All were western and pretty. Some
gorgeous, others just nice. Naked and vulnerable behind
bars and mosquito netting, in light from kerosene lanterns,
they called, it seemed like all had at least some English.
I looked back at the row of narrow cages, slender arms
reaching out waving in the dark.
Our guide stopped, raising the lantern high. Another arm
was waving for our attention, but she was younger than the
others. A naked girl getting up from her cot. A chest
barley developed but between her legs she wore an elaborate
tattoo. A falcon of intricate detail with splendid colors.
It must have taken weeks of needle work on her most
sensitive of parts. It was Sarah.
"Buy me, Mister. I will be good to you. Anything you
want, I do. You and your friend look better than the
others. I know you will treat a woman right. Buy me and my
friend, she will love you good and long."
"Don't bother, dear." The voice came from the next cage.
"Look at that one. He is going to do what he wants. If he
wants us, he will take us." The voice sounded older, more
resigned. The girl shone the light into the cage. Laying
on her cot was Roxanne Bodwell. Sr. Flight attendant on the
prestigious London to Tokyo run. But she did not look so
prestigious now. Nude her breast cris-crossed with whip
marks a necklace of steel cords, like the others she wore a
bar-code on her ankle.
"Mumsy, we have to try," Sarah pleaded. "Anything is
better than ending up in some Arab dungeon. Please
mister.."
Slash put a heavy hand on my shoulder. I knew he wanted
me quiet.
"Just remember that, Sarah."
"My name! Its been so long." She started to cry. "Did
you hear that, Mumsy, he called me by my name!"
"How do you know her name?" Roxanne asked. "Who are
you?"
"If I buy you, either of you," Slash strolled by,
examining the women in their cages. "I will demand total
obedience."
"You got it Mister. I have been in training for 12
months no," little Sarah pleaded. "Anything you want,
Master. I will be your footstool. Here, come closer, feel
me. I will make you happy."
"Come we go now." The other captives were shouting their
own offers. Our guide wanted us to leave.
Beyond Chiang Mai
Chapter -- 6, Arc Light
"Its run by the monks. Some renegade military officers
provide the security," for once Slash was in a talkative
mood. "They fly in from around the world. Last of the
great white slavery sales for western women. They wouldn't
miss it for anything." He laughed. "Round eyes are so
popular over here. They love `em all but the blondes and
redheads are hot tickets. Some are looking for some new
pussy others to trade up. But they are all looking."
It was mid-morning in the jungle but there was an
electricity in the air. Like Times Square on new year's eve
or Carnival in Rio. Native girls topless in their prettiest
flowered sarongs and monks in orange robes hustled around.
The guest, mostly men emerged from their tents to follow the
scent of bacon and coffee to the large food tent. Pretty
girls directed well-fed men of all nationalities to the main
gathering.
The girl gave us badges, stating simply: `owner' and
directed us to the captives cages at the treeline.
Colleen. It was the first time, this morning, that I
thought of my wife. The place was a nightmare of activity.
Monks shepherded two and three girls one way and the other
all the while hollering in Thai and Cambodian. Some girls
were nude others with hair wrapped in white towels. Native
women escorted the taller western girls in exquisite
costumes. A stunning Dallas Cheerleader, her costume
perfect down to the white go-go boots and little v in her
waist band, passed, led by two Cambodian girls. Another ran
behind the taller woman, brushing at the blonde's hair as
she walked. We found Colleen with her escorts by the
costumes. The dirty pack mule had been transformed into a
vision of beauty. Bathed and rosy pink, her hair wrapped in
a towel wearing only white mules. My shinny silver rings
hung from puffy erect nipples. They were gorgeous matching
exactly to her auroras. She was naked but relaxed, feeling
the material of the costumes, holding them against her body
as she turned striking a pose.
"Do you like? How about this one? I doesn't hide much
does it? Oh, look at this one."
It looked like Macys. Racks of clothing had been set up.
Monks with tape measures around their necks, scissors in
hand were fitting skin tight gowns. We steeped aside for
what must be the sexiest nun ever to wear a habit go by at
the end of a leash. The sexual energy was contagious.
Amazingly women who had been kept in a cage all night,
eagerly turned around, giving a little wiggle, to see how
they looked in a mirror.
"You hurry. Hurry. Computer say she 1:13. Must do
hair. No much time." She was as excited as the rest. As
if to make her point she ran a hand through Colleen's damp
red hair. But Slash was not to be hurried. He picked a
dress making her try it on. Even the monks stopped to watch
as with arms up, the dress falling over her head, she
wiggled her nude body until it fell in place. She stepped
in and out of cowgirl boots, a school girl outfit, two types
of nurse costumes. Then he saw it. An off-white gown, of
lace and embroidery that hung limp on the rack. Two tailors
ran over when he touched it. With the greatest of care
they eased it over Colleen, tenderly smoothing the flimsy
fabric over her breasts. It was a vision.
"She get hair done now. I must have her ready for 1:13.
Hurry bitch." One lady was not impressed.
++++
A rock pit, I guessed. Abandoned ages ago. Giant blocks
of quartz lay at the bottom of the huge pit. The execution
had left steps as they dug further down for the valuable
quartz. It was a natural amphitheater. The steps made
seating for the Arabs who tended to sit together while the
few Italian men sat with their women. Elegant, but so
obviously trained women, they smiled, attending to every
need of their man before he realized it. They held a
lighted cigar to his lips and took it away before he could
open his mouth to speak. The pit echoed with greetings in
all languages as the guest introduced themselves. Our
owners badges were good for a third row seat besides a
Mexican estate owner who only wanted to talk of his
possessions, his ranch, quarter horses, his twin engine jet
and his prize bulls. "Senior, trust me when I say I breed
the best Miura in all of Mexico. And now, mi amigo, I will
breed the best of women. Beauty like no other. Hair as
golden as my Mexican sun and ahh, she will have the spirit.
Si. Mucho spirit, like conquistador. Si. Miguel read each
dossier on computer. I have blood lines of each researched.
Pinkerton's want mucho peso's. I say, no matter. The egg,
she is everything. No?"
Slash was having the same problem. At his elbow sat a
heavy set man in a white linen jacket. He was huge with an
enormous stomach. Apparently his appetite for women was
just as strong. "Took the Concord to Bangkok. Dreadfully
narrow plane, but I got this dam hot stewardess. Bitch was
playing hard to get. All I wanted was a little head, you
know, to pass the time. Offered her a couple of bills. The
French bitch turned me down. Called me a fat slob. Well I
am no dam slob. Ha. Haa" The man held his stomach and
roared with laughter. "To make the long story short, I had
to go up to two fifty for her to meet me in the galley."
"Two fifty?"
"Twenty-five hundred, son. Told the bitch, for that
money, I want her `cuffed to the counter. Haa. Haa. Shot
all over the bitches face. On her uniform, everywhere.
Stuffed a couple of bills in her bra and left her `cuffed to
the sink. Haa. Haa. Cost me a few bucks more to keep the
other stew quiet, but hell, it was worth it. Its only
pocket change anyway. For all I know, son, she is still on
her knees. Haa. Haa."
"Senior's! Quedo! Pocico quiet. The stage, look." My
rancher friend was right. The ever present monks had
finished erecting scaffolding on the stage turning it over
to the MC, an Asian with a phony cowboy drawl. His grin
flickered across a giant sports screen. The monks, their
heads shaved, bowed to the audience, pleased with their
technology.
"Gentleman, and ladies. Your attention please. First a
big hand for our gracious hosts, the Xieng Khuang order.
Again the monks bowed to applause. And now, what you have
been waiting for," he drawled. His next words were lost in
the hoots and hollers. Down the steps, through the
audience, two girls led the pretty cheerleader. The girl
was pale, her eyes wide with fear. Between each step her
eyes darted around until the chain yanked her to the next
step. All the while the MC drawled on about her. Birth
date, sign, where she grew up, how many men she had slept
with, he knew it all. By the time she took the stage the
bidding had started. A big man, by the looks of it, her
owner joined her on stage. Taking her leash he displayed
her best features. Her breasts were pushed up into the
little cheerleader top, a silver star on each boob. He had
her bend over and shake her tits into the camera. The
bidding crawled higher. He looked at the number on the
giant screen, shook his head, and ripped the bottom from the
startled girl. The numbers crept up. Miguel, my rancher
friend, typed at his little computer.
"I have a question," the MC read from his screen, "A
gentleman wants to know if she has spirit. Perhaps you
could demonstrate?"
"Sprit? I will show you spirit!" Her owner was enraged.
The numbers on the big screen had not changed. "Here!
Now!," he commanded. Cheerleader started to whimper but the
cute cowgirl knew not to disobey. She inched closer,
whining louder with each baby step. Her owner snapped at
her wrists, the metal rings engulfing her. An electric
motor whirled to life pulling her arms straight up.
Cheerleader was straining from her white cowgirl boots with
the silver stars to her little top, the top stars barely
keeping her breasts in. He choose his instrument. A white
bull whip. Cheerleader was crying openly now. No
hesitation. A full swing, the announcer jumping back to
avoid the brutal arc of white leather. A direct hit on her
breast. The camera man zoomed in. Her top saved her. A
ragged tear ran from one luscious breast to the other. It
could have been her breast hanging, ragged and torn, from
bare trembling shoulders.
"Stick your cunt out. Open dem pretty legs, Texas," the
man demanded of the crying girl as he arranged the tail of
the whip behind him. He was ready for another stroke.
Cheerleader was sobbing, but she never begged. She turned
her back to him, preferring her backside for the next
horrendous stroke. Hands above her she hopped from leg to
leg, pulling each up in dreadful fear of his next stroke.
But it never came. The crowd was applauding. They
recognized the courage it took to defy his order. The Arabs
waved white handkerchiefs in the air. The numbers were
rolling up, as the MC went into his auctioneer's song.
"Going, going, sold!" The buyer stood to receive a round
of applause. "A fine specimen at a great price. Your
property will be waiting for you, Sir, in the holding pens.
Please complete the shipping form on your computer. We can
have her drugged and shipped or perhaps you would like
transport her yourself. Now gentleman, I must warn you.
That was a steal. The fine slaves that we have coming up,
will sell for much, much more. Charlie, what do we have
next?" Charlie, a native girl in an emerald evening dress
sparkling with sequins, read from the giant screen.
"Lee, we have a special treat for our friends. From our
agent in Bangkok, a rare combination set. Lee, this is a
must have for collectors everywhere. It features a pair of
British roses, so delicate but watch out for the thorns."
Charlie laughed with the audiences. She moved across stage
with the microphone. "But that's not all. There is a last
minute addition. A fresh American blossom, so well formed
but alas, untrained. Not at all like the roses from
Britain. Our agent, informs us that they have been
completely trained, but not broken. Lee, I hope this meets
with the approval of our honored guests."
"Thank you Charlie. I am sure it will. Now, bring them
on."
Immediately I knew. It was little Sarah, only she did
not look anything at all, like the virginal girl playing
soccer on the green fields of St. Agatha's. She wore skin
tight leather so glossy the light exploded off washing out
the picture on screen. And boots, black heels so high that
she had to be helped up the steps. The camel toe crack of
her pussy lips was outlined in black leather tights. Tiny
little breasts, still budding, were squeezed and pushed up,
into a black leather halter. I felt myself swelling at the
sight of her strutting across the stage. The perfect little
slut.
Then I saw her. Two monks were holding her back. With a
twist she broke free, kicking off her heels, running to join
her daughter. Ms Roxanne Bodwell. Loving mother of Sarah.
Sr. Flight attendant, in line for a high paying management
position. Gone missing after a vacation to see the ruins in
Thailand. Now I found her. Standing on a slave auction
stage, nude as the day 36 years ago when she was born.
Someone had decided that she was not to be permitted the
dignity of a costume at her own sale. Still there was
something about her that captivated the audience. It was in
her posture, her moves, a certain presence. She was nude
but unbroken. She kept a hand over her sex as she stood
protectively by her daughter. Her look was defiant, saying,
`try that with my daughter and I will kill you if I can.'
All the while, Lee called measurements, age, everything
about her. Roxanne was as bare as a slave can be.
"Please gentlemen, wait. I am not accepting bids yet."
Lee was talking. "There is one more to complete the set. A
late addition that did not make the program. You could say
that she is walk in. From America, an exceptional red hared
beauty, a trainers delight, I am honored to offer the body,
sex and mind of this woman for your every pleasure, without
a slave name she answers to Colleen."
My jaw dropped. Finally I had to accept it. My wife
being pulled up the stairs, to be sold. The beautiful gown
she wore only allowed the tiniest of steps. Some dress,
skin tight with a sheer spot over her pussy, cut aways
leaving the silver hoops in her freshly pierced nipples
exposed. A virginal whore, ready for her training. The
monks pushed her in place along side Sarah. There they
stood, a trained slut, still just a teen, her mother somehow
more elegant, infinitely desirable. The third, with obvious
chastity a challenge to your training and a gorgeous beauty.
A virgin to training. How would she behave?
The crowed stands were hooting and hollering, the
distinctive Arab catcalls cutting above all. Like Roxanne
and Sarah, orange robes quickly secured her ankle with a
chain. Charlie, the girl with the microphone, went to stand
between the unfortunate captives. There she paused flipping
her long hair and smoothing an already perfect gown over
sexy hips. Without a word she had asserted her status and
obvious superiority.
"Lee, we have Anhtuyet, previously known as Sarah. The
computer says that she is an accomplished cock sucker and
fucker, Lee. She performs well with both men and girls,
heehee. Men, perhaps you would like to take her home and
break her of that nasty lezbo habit. I know I would,
heehee. Sarah, say something for your fans." She held out
the microphone as if afraid that she would catch something
from the little girl.
"Er, I am a worthless floozy. I suck and fuck. I can be
anything you want. Just be nice to my mom."
"Oh how sweet. A mothers girl. And here is Mom. Her
name is Roxanne. Look at that body, those tits. Could be
bigger but great shape. Not bad for 36, huh guys?"
"How could you?," Roxanne pushed the microphone from her
face. "Can't you see they are using you? You are just like
us."
"Oh you. You. You dog!," Charlie was furious. "Kneel
to me, worthless dog. Down!" She reached out. "Give me
that."
Whack! Charlie struck with a short whip. She hit like
how girls throw balls, elbow too far out for any strength
but on Roxanne's bare shoulders it had the desired effect.
She fell to her knees at Charlie's green heels, head lowered
but not protecting herself with her hands. She was use to
being strapped much harder.
"Now, dog, who is using who? Go on, say something,
bitch. Open that hole. Girl, get over here. Take this and
do your mom. Go on. Open for her bitch."
Charlie pushed little Sarah in front of the kneeling
woman. Her pointed toe kicked Roxanne's legs apart. Sarah
had no choice. Gingerly, she took the whip, examining its
leather handle for a moment. But Charlie's foot was
impatient. To avoid another kick she began working it into
her cunt. Roxanne's chin raised, unable to avoid the sexual
and humiliating feelings welling up inside until overflowing
in shame she cried out.
Her anguished cry shook Colleen. "I am not for sale!,"
she shrieked, her foot tugging at the chain to the laughs of
the men. "You pierced me, but you will never have me!"
"Who owns this unprepared bitch?" Lee was getting
annoyed. "Will her owner please come on stage before she
damages herself."
I saw her cringe at the sight of Slash, or was it the
white whip. Sarah stopped to look, Roxanne's head turned.
Charlie retreated to Lee's side. All looked at the pleading
Colleen.
"Not that, Sir. Come on, you already had my nipples
pierced, had me fucked. Not the whip."
"But you haven't learned, have you Colleen? One of
these fine gentlemen will be buying you. You want to show
him what you are made of, don't you? What you can take.
What will you be, Colleen? A pampered fuck and suck toy?"
A few clapped. Others joined in. Soon there was a
thunderous round of applause. "Maybe you would make a good
pain slut, spending you days in a dungeon, waiting for your
master." A few `woos' and that throaty cry that Arabs make,
came from the eager crowd. "Which will it be Colleen?"
"Lets find out."
The first strike hit the stunned girl on her thigh
wrapping around her bottom. The swing did not look that
hard but Colleen jumped, the chain pulling her leg from
under her. She scrambled, trying to find her feet leaving
an inviting target. She danced on hands and knees,
throwing her body from side to side, but the whip found her
every time, cutting at the frilly dress. Soon it hung in
ragged strips from her waist. Her legs and ass were stung
bright pink but the skin was not broken. It was then that I
realized his skill and precision.
"Not bad. She takes the whip well," my heavyset friend
beside me said.
"But Senior, she is in need of training. For light whip,
she yells much," Miguel, my rancher friend added. "It's
the sin of inexperience."
The announcer was speaking, "The computers are humming."
I could read the questions for myself, on the big screen.
"They all want to know if she takes cock well."
"A little undisciplined, but not bad." Slash helped my
wife to her feet. He thought for a second before adding,
"Great potential." The strips of cloth were easily torn
away leaving Colleen nude from the waist down. She was
dazed, touching herself, looking over her own body, relieved
to find herself in one piece. "Here, I'll show you."
"Colleen, come here and suck me," he ordered. Like a
slap to the face, that brought her back. She glared at him,
again aware of the crowd beyond, the girls staring at her,
the unflinching eye of the camera. Slash waited. She
tried. Pulling her self straight, chin raised, with all the
dignity she could muster.
"Go to hell."
But her crackling voice betrayed her.
"I am waiting." It was not even a warning, only a
statement.
The look flashed across that pretty face. Her shoulders
shrugged, making the silver hoops in her nipples flash in
the camera's lights and she steeped towards him as if going
to the gallows. He gently pushed her hands away. She bent
to take his offered organ in her mouth. Finding that too
hard, she dropped to one knee. The camera man scurried
around to get the best angle. She took him barely capturing
the head, eyes closed. Slash shrugged, as if to say `I told
you so.'
He patted her head, withdrawing from her mouth. "Lay
down girl. Reginald come up here."
I jumped to hear my name called. Everyone was looking as
I climbed the steps. "Take her."
"I c can't," I said, but I could feel it was not true.
She was irresistible laying with red hair spilling about her
face, her bottom was cris-crossed with dark pink lines, her
breast warm pink, nipples puffy with silver rings sticking
out of the white lace of her torn dress. I had to have her,
my wife.
"Reggi, I." I put a hand over her mouth, fumbled for a
second before replacing it with my cock. Her tongue blocked
me. The camera was inches away. I felt it growing, deep
inside and thought of Colleen with her pool-boy friend,
servicing the emperors, being the village tramp. What a
lovely face, lips candy red, those eyes a sea of practiced
innocence. I shoved. In and deep. Pulling out and deep in
again, until it was another cunt, her emotions fluttering
her tongue and throat around my swollen throbbing cock. My
cock growing, beyond just an erection. More. Roaring in my
ears, the crowd was doing something, I didn't care. I was
between her legs, kicking pants off, plunging in deep. One
continuous motion. Deep the woman was ready. Deep, long, a
rhythm growing, becoming all, not caring only deep and full
to her fluttering core against my head, every stroke
exploding there, resting there.
Slowly the roaring became cheering, stomping, wailing.
Slash was withdrawing from Roxanne's face. I would have
love to have seen that, with little Sarah licking at his
sack as he pumped her mother.
"The computers are now open," Lee was trying to get the
crowd's attention.
"We are accepting bids on any or all the slaves, Lee
tells me that the computers can handle it," beautiful
Charlie announced. She had the three women stand. Sarah,
still in black leather. Roxanne standing, her face spotted
with drying cum. Colleen with the beauty of a taken woman,
makeup ruined, dress in rags, a wet streak inside her thigh.
Charlie having each in turn unlocked, to step forward, turn
on command, bend, hands above, hands at sides, opening their
sex, all upon her command. They complied.
Off to the side, I whispered to Slash, "I can't sell
her."
"Then buy her back. Someone is going to take her. All
of them. May as well be you."
I looked up. Numbers flashed by the names. Something
about pairing Sarah with Colleen brought the bidding up.
"I can't afford them. Look at the bids!"
"You have the insurance money. They don't know about
that. Just send in a picture of Sarah alive and well with a
letter from her and you get the money. I have credit here.
Of course, I will expect to rent them out to cover the
interest on my loan. Nothing seedy, just distinguished high
paying clientele with a taste for the bizarre. Anyway you
need a partner in these parts."
That I did. A shocking offer that brought silence from
the audience. Slash nodded at Lee, then a growing round of
respectful applause.
Charlie quickly linked their ankle chains handing Sarah's
collar chain to me as the crowd stood, still applauding.
Lee hurried to announce the next girl. The crowd quiet
as she was led to the stage. There would be many other
slaves to auction.
Slash went with Charlie to sign papers. The chain was as
heavy as the girl's fate in my hands. Questions were in
their eyes, reading my every expression, for I had become
their master. Their pleasure was for my pleasure.
"You mistake taking my body for a promise of love,"
Colleen whispered.
"You will be mine. Like this whip, the villa in Joytown
that you will work for, the fancy cars you will pay for.
Only I will abuse you more and trust you less." I looked
each in the eye. They knew I meant every word.
"When I call you will come and I will enjoy it. Whether
you enjoy it of not, is up to you. But I think you will."
-Stroker Ace-
Comments welcome
gentclub@hotmail.com
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