Date: Thu, 19 Sep 1996 14:52:33 -0500 (CDT)
From: Hawaiian Heat <hheat@accessus.net>
Subject: New -- Bangkok Slaver
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Lollipops:
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 be
en
warned.
(c) 1996, Stroker Ace
`Lollipops: A Bangkok Slaver Story' is entirely a work of fiction.
Lollipop's is a continuation of the Bangkok Slaver Stories. The origina
l
story line and characters were created by both the gifted Marlissa and Park
er.
I thank them both and hope that this portion does the story justice.
Lollipop's:
A Bangkok Slaver Story' Chapter - Old Times
It is not often that I see Joytown at midday. The tackiness that is bar
ely
tolerable at night is horrendous in sunlight. Street vendors spill onto th
e
street, blocking the bicyclist who in turn block the never-ending stream of
old Japanese junkers. Above the clamor of horns, insults and hustlers is a
jungle of steelworks, each vying to get its neon sign bigger and higher tha
n
the rest. It is decadent as only Joytown can be. But I find myself searchi
ng
for more. A junkie. Hooked on pussy, the more decadent the better.
A crew of Thai workers swarmed over Lollipop's huge sign. The chief in
his
mandatory aviator mirrored glasses and tailored shirt supervised the hoisti
ng
of a sexy neon blonde, tonguing a lollipop that at night would resemble a
giant prick. In the shade of the entrance Colonel Chao stood taking it all
in
on his arm was his cute teenage sex slave, Sarah Bodwell. I hurried down t
he
sidewalk to the refuge of Candyland before he saw me.
The door was locked. I rang the buzzer hidden high on the door jamb and
waited. I rang it two more times before Tam opened the door.
"Oh, you," Tam said, turning away.
"Well I am glad to see you too. Why is the door locked?" When she didn
't
answer I continued. Anything to annoy her. "Do you ever wear anything els
e?"
She, of course, wore hot pants with a glossy black bikini top. I followed
her, tiny ass swaying, heels clicking. As she walked, she lightly slapped t
he
riding crop against her leg.
"Tam too busy for you. Make girlie-girlie movie now. You go talk to
Vopat. You in plenty trouble, Joe."
She had that right.
I walked past empty tables towards Vopat's office in the back. It was t
he
first time I had ever seen Candyland empty. Vopat was seated in his office
,
arguing with someone on his cell phone. The call must be costing him a mint
2E
On second thought, perhaps it didn't. It was probably a clone.
"What you mean, credit no good? For long time, I buy plenty from you.
Pay
top dolla. Now you no do biddness? Fuckee you!"
Vopat snapped the phone shut.
"It's Fuck you," I said softly, taking a seat as far from him as I could
2E
He wasn't in the mood for an English lesson.
"Biddness gone to shit, Joe. I got no customer, now I got no credit."
"What happened. This used to be the busiest place in Joytown. Hell, th
e
best in all of Thailand."
"Colonel Chao shut Candyland down." The big man spoke as if the club was
a
person. To him, perhaps it was. "Chao say he surprised to learn that girl
s
dance naked. Shut Candyland down. No say how long. No good, Joe. I got
expenses."
A knock at door, and a slender blonde entered. She placed a tray on
Vopat's desk. Steak and eggs. Vopat was having lunch. Without a saying a
word, the blonde opened two bottles turning to serve me one. It was Roxann
e
Bodwell. I hadn't seen her since returning from a little business matter
upcountry. Roxanne had survived her months as a sex slave in good shape,
considering that she fucked for living. Three bizarre shows a day under Ta
m's
whip. Sixteen hour days dancing, hoping to arouse some drunken local or
hard-core farang. If she is lucky, she gets to suck him off or take his co
ck
while bent over a table. If not, the disk jockey puts a check mark by her
name for Tam. As if that is not enough she has to serve Klosters to man wh
o
sold her into sexual slavery and the guy who bought her.
Tam had a linguistic problem with Roxanne and re-christened her as Annie
2E
Whatever you called her, she was looking hot in a French maid's apron over
a
tiny yellow thong bikini with her usual cheap pumps. Dancing had made her
lean and trim, not an ounce of fat on a splendid body. There is something
especially degrading about a grown woman, a natural beauty, to be dressed l
ike
a bar whore. Even if she is. But she wasn't always. She was a senior fligh
t
attendant on the prestigious London to Hong Kong run. She should have been
managing all the attendants for British Airways. She had the education and
looks, tall long legs, nice figure, a certain dignity. When you saw her
standing in a business suit, you just knew that she was the one in charge.
But all that changed a months ago when I abducted her and her fifteen year
old
daughter. Then sold them both to Vopat.
I took the beer, but she held on to the bottle. Our eyes meet, her fing
ers
clutching mine. In those green eyes, I could see her weighing her hatred f
or
me against her need. Love of her daughter won out.
"Please sir, have you heard anything about Sarah?" She risked a lot by
asking. Vopat was sure to discipline her. "Is Sarah all right? She turne
d
sixteen last week."
"She is OK. She looks fine." No one can say that I am not a nice guy.
Vopat ordered her out. She dared not disobey. "Please, sir." The blon
de
fell to her knees, her hands going for my zipper, fumbling to get me out.
She
was offering me her body. It was all she had to barter with, "Tell her, An
nie
loves her." An odd mix. Polite British accent, mixed with slave training.
The poor girl even thought of herself as Tam's Annie.
Tam was right there with ridding crop in hand. Furiously she beat at th
e
kneeling woman, cursing her with Tam's unique blend of Thai and English wit
h a
few choice French phrases thrown in. Annie scurried away from Tam, her hand
s
covering her head. I could hear her sobbing as she disappeared down the ha
ll.
"Forget bitch, Joe. You bring big problems on me. That bad biddness,
gangster shooting. Shooting Jan-Jan's man no good. I loose two good pussy
to
FBI Dick Tracy. Best act gone. Bad biddness!"
While you getting rich upcountry, FBI get all excited. They tell London
2E
London call British embassy. Ambassador send embassy man to Joytown to
`investigate' to clean up Candyland. Call himself Strangway. Very uptight.
Like he not fuck in long time. He worse kind. Have many bosses. He very
ambitious. Take himself too serious. Ask many questions. He put lot of mo
ney
on street for talk. Colonel Chao get big scared. He shut me down. Then h
e
see way to get rich. He buy interest in Lollipop. Fix joint up. Many bah
t.
Now he take my customers. Chao get rich, drive new Land Rover now."
Vopat's chopsticks sliced at the air for emphasis. The big man was livi
d,
his face flushed red in anger. I was afraid the veins on his forehead woul
d
burst.
"You get me out of this, Joe. Get something on Strangway that I can use
2E I
no want British Marines poking around Joytown looking for missing girls.
Bad
for biddness. That not good for me and not be good for you. You understan
d,
Joe?"
"I understand." Only too well.
He put the chopsticks to his mouth, only to find that they were empty.
His
eyes burned fiery red, an arm flew across the table sending steak and eggs
flying. "You fuck this up Joe and it be your last!"
He was shouting. Time to leave. He was still fuming. He didn't even n
od
his head.
"Tam!" Vopat yelled, his voice echoing in the small office. "Get that
bitch Annie, ready for me. Now! In the alley where everyone can see." Vo
pat
was going to gain face at Roxanne's expense.
"I want, need," I corrected myself. "Annie." "I got to have her to get
Strangway in line." I watched the effect of my words cross Vopat's face.
"You can have that," he searched for the English word. "That untrainabl
e
bitch after I am finished." Vopat stood. "Whatever is left."
"No. I need her now. In good shape." She would no use to anybody aft
er
Vopat got through with her, especially with a crowd urging him on. "Listen
Vopat, do you want Chao off your back, or not? Give me the girl, or I walk
2E"
There is a saying in the East, `You can only die once.' The trick is to
keep postponing it.
The fat man mopped at his brow with the ever present tissue. A second
latter his forehead was again covered in sweat.
"You take care of the Strangway. Get Chao to loosen up and we be friend
s
again. Like old times, huh, Joe?"
I had read Chao correctly. He had his bosses too. The ones that expect
ed
a cut of the action.
"Sure. Like old times."
Lollipop's - Candyland
In this business you stay with what is familiar. There will be enough
surprises. Candyland was familiar, but it and Vopat could be history soon.
It was time to make new acquaintances. That is how I found myself at Mae S
ai,
about as upscale a restaurant as you can find in Joytown. We were actually
in
a little plant covered patio reserved for VIP's. And right now, Colonel Ch
ao
was the biggest VIP this side of BKK airport.
I was wearing a clean shirt for the occasion. Washed and pressed for me
by
my new servant, Roxanne. For the last week, Annie has been taking care of
all
of my desires. It has been like a holiday for her. In her spare time she
takes care of my apartment and cooks. Her real job of course is to keep my
cock satisfied. I have been out a lot investigating Strangway, so I set a
bolt into the concrete for her chain. Not that an unescorted western woman
without a word of Thai would get very far in this town.
I found Meganne's old dog collar and locked it on without explanation.
She
went to speak, the same old nonsense about "Annie good girl," only this tim
e
`Ann' ended in a scream. Of course the scream caused another shock and kep
t
shocking. But she learns quickly. Speak and you get zapped. Not quite as
bad
as my favorite cattle prod but still a pretty good shock. Oh, she could
communicate as long as she kept it under a half second and could wait two
minutes before uttering her next sound. Needless to say she kept her gripin
g
to herself. In fact, it worked so well that I called my buddy in Bang Na a
nd
asked him to modify another anti-bark collar. You never can tell when you
will need a spare.
She was wearing it tonight and not much else. Only a white wrap covered
her thong, transparent and clinging to her with every movement. The top wa
s
nothing more than two tiny triangles of cloth that would barely cover her
sixteen year old daughter. I let her wear a good pair of pumps. I told yo
u,
I am a nice guy. I wouldn't force anyone to walk a city block in the cheap
plastic that she normally has on.
She was looking good. Looks have always been her greatest asset. I had
taken her down to mamasan's and had her hair and face done. The makeover a
nd
a weeks rest from Tam and Candyland had done wonders for her. It is amazin
g
how a weeks relief from swallowing strangers cum, will restore a girl.
Her dignity almost disappeared in the sexual jungle of Candyland but it
never completely deserted her. Dignity came natural to her. She carried i
t
with her in the way she moved, the way she stood, her posture, her chin. T
he
thong, three sizes too small, only served to accent her embarrassment. In
Joytown that respectful, dignified look and British self-assurance worked
against her. That is why even after months of captivity, I still enjoyed
debasing her.
"Pai Nai."
Our host, Colonel Chao strolled in with little Sarah on his arm. He wor
e
his standard, a sharply pressed military shirt with gold falcon, wings spre
ad
over a chest full of ribbons. Sarah glanced at her mother and quickly
returned her attention to the splendid Chao. She had been trained well. A
nd
she looked the part, dressed in fine silk. The red dress buttoned at her n
eck
and clung lovingly to that fine young body. A falcon in black embroidery
soared from her slit skirt, up across her budding breast. She had her
mother's eyes, a beautiful sea green. Tonight they were dark with mascara,
her lips painted whorish red.
Roxanne braved a brief greeting, rushing her daughters name. It blended
into her scream. Her hands flew to her collar, desperate to stop the curre
nt.
I pointed to the floor, "Annie, do your greeting." I needed something to s
how
Chao that I could control my woman.
She looked at Sarah then glared at me before following my finger to her
assigned spot. Sitting on the tile floor, she raised her knees. Pulling h
er
feet tight against her bottom forced her knees apart. She wet her fingers
on
her tongue and with a shake of her hair, slowly ran her moist fingers betwe
en
spread legs, from her ass up across the stretched thong.
Sarah frowned at what her mother had become. Those green eyes misted ov
er,
her gaze fixed on a spot, miles away.
The Colonel laughed. "That number one hot cunt. Make excellent fuck."
Annie was still dutifully rubbing her cunt but Sarah looked like she was
going to cry so I motioned for her mother to stand. "Colonel, I believe yo
u
remember Ms. Bodwell, don't you?"
"Vopat's girl. Right? He no do good job with this one. She still much
proud." His pock-marked face broke into laughter. "Tam must get soft. To
o
easy. Need more whip!"
"British," I explained.
He nodded his head in understanding. "Vopat wanted much for the set. Po
or
man like me, can only afford little one," he laughed again. "Young better
anyway. Train better. See this one no give dirty look. She not speak unl
ess
allowed. What your name, little one?
"Anhtuyet. Anhtuyet your girl. Anhtuyet want to please her stud." Sweet
little Sarah answered with her new name immediately. She cooed into Chao's
ear. One hand hugged him to her, the other ran over his ribbons, down his
front to disappear beneath the table.
The waiter came for our order. Chao had him wait while Anhtuyet was mad
e
to stand. Chao raised her skirt with some difficulty rolling the tight
material over her hips. Proud as a peacock he showed me a falcon, his
signature, tattooed on her bare mons. Beautiful needle work, four colors,
done by a Buddhist monk he boasted. He had marked his territory. There wa
s
no going back for this girl. Poor Sarah would never have that caring husba
nd
and nice home in Coventry. Her mother must have realized it too as she loo
ked
on in silent agony.
Chao and I had the chicken and vegetables. They didn't have a menu but
I
got the feeling that we could have ordered monkey without them batting an
eyelash. Over dinner we talked of many things. I tried to keep his glass
full and kept brining up our last gun running venture. We actually cleared
a
nice profit on that one. And no one got killed.
It was getting late. Chao was full and content. One hand buried in
Anhtuyet's dress, a cigar in the other. I couldn't wait any longer. "Colon
el,
I heard that you have an interest in Lollipops. You must be in need of goo
d
entertainment. Something that will draw in the crowds. Make some money.
People get tired of the same old thing, you know. Perhaps if a beautiful
western girl became available for a few nights. An amateur. You would have
to
break her in .."
He took the bait. "French mother," I explained. "Long legs. Father wa
s
an American pilot. Back before Nam got big and nasty. Raised by mom, in
Orly. College at Cambridge. Just spent two years in Washington. Twenty fi
ve.
Looks like a million dollars, American.."
I gave him the details and reminded him, "A couple of nights. "Anything
goes, but she goes back to hubby in three days. And she goes back
presentable. Think of what a `special engagement' like that could bring in
at
Lollipops. They would be beating down the doors to see. You could charge
anything you wanted."
I wrote an outrageous number on the cloth napkin when he asked. He
scratched through the number with a jade pen. He had cut the figure in hal
f.
I looked at it and shook my head, with what I hoped was a disappointed face
2E
"Ok, Ok. For an old friend, five thousand ." His eyes brightened. Before
he
could speak, I added, "and the whore." It took another hour and I loss
another two thousand baht, before we clinked glasses and drank on the deal.
"That make moma happy," Chao pointed with his cigar.
It had been over two hours and Roxanne was still standing. She quickly
slid her shoes on as we looked. "Guess I am just a nice guy at heart."
Even Chao laughed at that. "You nice guy, Joe. But I keep Anhtuyet very
busy till you deliver.
Lollipop's - Strangway
The afternoon sun split by blinds made parallel shadows down the wall, o
ver
the dresser and crossing the rumpled bed. Above, a ceiling fan shook and
thumped against the oppressive heat. A dark skinned girl, body lean and
straight, a boys body, only with longer hair. Hair that fell down, black a
nd
thick, shielding her face, falling over the man below. She bent over his
prone form like a bike racer, only nude, her back covered in sweat, the bon
es
of her spine visible. Her bare legs were drawn up, on each side of his spr
ead
thighs. A tiny asshole with lips large for such a small girl twitched betwe
en
his legs.
The man held her head, holding it down engulfing his organ. His arms
bulged, but still he forced the black hair down. "Ahhh, Ahhh, Bloody goo
d.
Ahhh." He relaxed, her head flew up, gasping desperately for air. She
coughed. Sperm shot from her mouth and nose only to be sucked in again as
her
lungs fought for air. "You promise me," she managed, pausing as her tiny
breasts shook with another cough. "milk shakee."
In response the man wiped a splotch of white cum across her cheek to her
lips. "Milk shakes will make you fat. By the time you are fifteen, no one
will want to take you from the bar."
"I no get fat. I want milk shakee. You promise."
"I will. From room service. Promise. But first I will teach you a litt
le
trick I learned in from a working girl in Washington. Its called around th
e
world."
On the dresser the light on the ancient phone flashed red. The man roll
ed
over, sending the bar girl sprawling to the floor.
"Do be quiet, girl. It may be the Embassy," he ordered.
"Er, hullo. Under-assistant, James Strangway here." The phone looked t
o
be left over from the French colonial days.
"Excuse me Mr. Strangway, this is the hotel manager." It was only a thr
ee
room boarding house but he insisted on calling himself manager.
"Umm, a Mr. I mean Mrs. Strangway left a message. Uhh, Marguerite. I
mean Mrs. Strangway called and left a message."
"Dam it man, why didn't you put the call through."
"You said that you and your er. niece, did not want to be disturbed. I
waited till tea time, like you asked."
"Give me the bloody message, you idiot."
"Yes, of course, sir. Mrs. Strangway said that she ran into an old frie
nd
from Orly. Adrien, she said. They haven't seen each other in years. Said
that on a whim they decided to take a few days and tour the National Museum
in
Phnom Penh. That is a long train ride. Isn't it, sir? She said she would
not
be home this weekend. They left this afternoon. She said she loves you and
she will be back by Thursday. Will there be anything else, sir?"
+++
The manager did it pretty well. The start was a little shaky, I had to
get
his attention focused, but once he saw that I meant business he shaped up.
I
gave him the full 100 baht anyway, reminding him that it never happened.
Memories fail when everyone is happy.
+++
The wives on embassy row stick together like Thai rice. They spend thei
r
days shopping or doing their useless charity work. They seldom leave the s
afe
tree lined streets of diplomat row. The ambassador's wives are the Queens.
They pick the charities and host the biggest parties. The assistant's wive
s
with only fifteen or twenty years in the diplomatic core are the back stabe
rs.
They are determined to push their husbands into the long awaited Ambassador
opening. And to sabotage the others. Under-assistants and attach^C2s are
at
the bottom. Young and green to the diplomatic core they are more concerned
with stealing away for romantic weekends and starting families than the
serious business of making and destroying careers.
They get the smaller residences, towards the ends of the street. Even t
he
military security patrols ignore them. Who in his right mind, would go aft
er
an under-assistant?
Friday evenings are reserved for diplomatic functions. The Queens make
sure that all their subjects attend. So, Mrs. Marguerite Strangway was quit
e
worried when the ambassador's wife called.
"It must be so difficult for you newlyweds, dear. To be in that big hou
se
all alone while John is on assignment in that sinful town. He is doing suc
h
an important job, to investigate the disappearances of those poor, poor gir
ls.
"
"John called. He left me a message. He said he tried to call you but yo
u
know how bad the phone system is. It really needs some British experts to
re-
do everything. He said that there is nothing to report. He said he spoke
with everyone in town, everyone is quite helpful, but there is no sign of a
ny
wrongdoing. In fact it is so slow that he is taking you on holiday. A tra
in
ride to Singapore for six days, back on Thursday. Pack light, he is buying
you new outfits. He arranged for a driver to pick you up. 2 PM exactly,
dear. Those drivers charge so much, worse than a London cabby. Marguerite,
do
try to be ready. John is so sweet to take you on holiday."
"You young couples are so very romantic. How long have you been married
now? Almost two years? You went directly form college to wife and the
diplomatic core. Your's is such a storybook romance. An assignment in
beautiful Washington, DC and now exotic Bangkok. So lovely, dear."
"I set it right with the ambassador. He puts great faith in John's
recommendations. If John says that there is nothing there then he will cal
l
it off. Did you hear, two of the missing girls may be British subjects.. A
mother and daughter. Can you imagine? Why just picture being abducted by b
ig
strong men. I heard that Thai men are very. `well endowed'. And the thing
s
they would do to you. Hot sweaty men, touching you all over. I imagine th
ey
would make you do things. Oh dear, its so warm this time of year. Anyway
Marguerite, I will let you go. That divine sergeant, the Royal Marine, is
on
duty. I think I will just go soak in the tub for a while."
No one gave the Mercedes limousine a second look as it cruised toward th
e
smaller homes. In front, the Candyland license plate had been discretely
replaced.
Lollipop's - Marguerite
It come in stages. First is the fear and anger, an urge to fight, to ru
n
if she can, definitely to scream to defend. Then the icy cold realization
descends that she is not in danger. Not bodily danger, not now. She sees
it
in the way she is treated. Confined, restrained. She senses it in the way
her
space is violated, petted, touched, felt. Frightened of what her senses tel
l
her she will test it. She screams when told to be quiet. She breaks an ar
m
free before the click of the handcuff. If you are not careful she scrapes
at
whatever is in reach. It is a test. And the answer frightens her more.
For she is not harmed. Overpowered, pushed, but never harmed. Held har
d.
Sometimes a slap, but never the damaging, bone crunching blow that at this
point, would be so reassuring.
She is quiet. It is difficult for the female mind to accept, but there
is
no escaping the inevitable. He will not harm my body. Why? Am I too
valuable? It is me he wants. Not the bank notes in my purse. Not my weddi
ng
ring. If I am lucky, he will videotape me for a ransom. More likely he wa
nts
my body for other purposes. Any way she looks at it, it comes up the same.
That is when the second struggle begins. The desperate one. She will d
o
anything to avoid such a fate. She has been told all her life to protect w
hat
lies between her legs. She gives it sparingly. Always protective. It tak
es
a promise for life before it is shared. It is the center of her being. The
source of her power. Of course she fights.
The handcuffs click. Steel bracelets fastened to steel wire locking her
to
the seat. The blinds are drawn on the limousine windows. She screams and
spits at the driver's partition. Leaning back, she kicks at his head. Her b
oat
shoes leave dirty footprints on the bullet proof glass. The driver, annoye
d
now, presses a button above his head and a black shield rises. She is
entombed, cut off from the outside world. There is nothing to look at.
Nothing to identify. Alone with her realization, she may as well be in a
hearse.
"Margo, this is not good," she says out loud as the black limousine spee
ds
toward Joytown.
Lollipop's - Garaged
It was good to get out of the limo after a harrowing ride. "Never again!
"
The driver, a maniac behind the wheel, was one of Chao's recruits from his
latest jaunt upcountry. "Keep the driving gloves on and put this on her."
He
took the handful of nylon webbing from me. It's the same stuff that the
military uses for holster belts.
"Put it over her head and buckle it under her chin. No way for her to m
ove
the blindfold. Go ahead. Its ok if she sees you. She wont be able to
identify you. To her, all Thai's look alike anyway. And when you go back
upcountry, she will never see that handsome kisser of yours again."
The driver laughed at that. Taking a big breath as if it could be his
lasts he dived head first into the back. The door handle shook in my palm
as
they struggled. Pretty little Marguerite was not being very ladylike. She
kicked wildly and cursed the driver and his parents.
"This ones a fighter!" Goes to show that you can never tell by their
looks.
The driver backed through the car door with a risky grip on her legs. H
is
body jerked with every kick. I motion for Doc to help him and went around
to
the other side. Even with me lifting her shoulders to pass her from the ca
r,
it was tough. She was grabbing at anything she could reach, seat belts, do
or,
everything. But we got her out. The driver actually kneeled down to set he
r
feet on the floor. We all stood around catching our breath, complementing
ourselves on pulling it off.
She looked good. So tempting and vulnerable, stumbling around the garag
e
her hands locked at her back with a blindfold harnessed on that pretty face
2E
She wore her dirty blonde hair at shoulder length. A curve of hair had
fallen, covering one side of the blindfold.
"Quick, before she hurts herself." The three of us fanned out like we we
re
hunting a water buffalo. I heard Colonel Chao laughing calling us `maeow's
'
but he didn't move to help. We pulled the struggling girl to him, forcing h
er
knees to bend then leaning on her back until her head rested in his lap. W
hen
she felt his pants and realized her face was in a man's lap she went wild w
ith
fear and rage throwing her head form side to side refusing to put her mouth
to
his zipper. That worked to Doc's advantage.
He came back holding a little container in a gloved hand. I nodded, Cha
o
and the driver and I clamped down on Marguerite.
"This feel warm to Nang. It no hurt. You no get sick," he said over her
whimpers. "Doc no hurt French girly." He could be so reassuring.
He worked a thick golden fluid into her ear with a Q-tip. "Will the be
e
wax hurt her hearing?," I asked.
"Ear like new after it all out. It take many hot bathe to get wax out,"
he
replied. "Now Doc do other ear. She no hear talk. Only hear very loud
shout."
"And that?"
"This a little speaker. Wax holds it in. Wire go to mike. Like this."
The Colonel entertained himself by making kissing sounds into her
microphone as she frowned in disgust.
I busied myself by taking off her sneakers. I didn't like the way she h
ad
been wandering all over the garage.
It was too much for her. Marguerite was babbling incoherently between
sobs. We never told her what we wanted from her or even if she would ever
resume her life as a diplomat's wife. Handcuffed, blindfolded and now deaf
her face buried in someone's lap. It must have felt like a hundred hands
pushing at her. I pulled her bare feet from underneath her, turning her ov
er
in the process. Colonel Chao held her head firmly in his crotch, obviously
enjoying her plight. Doc straddled her stretched out body working slowly at
her harness.
"That is not going to take her eyelashes off?" Doc was peeling the
blindfold off and sealing the eye shut with surgical tape as he went. "Wil
l
it?"
"No glue on eyelash. They grow back anyway. It take two hands, sharp
fingers to get off. Now girly no hear and no see."
"This could be a little tricky, Colonel. She has to go back, you know,
and
we don't want her screaming her head off for some kind of investigation."
"No problem," he reassured me. "She become good corrupt untouchable. S
he
so disgraced she no tell."
We both turned to look at Lollipop's new girl, Marguerite. In off-white
pleated pants, she stood a few meters away. Young and slim with classical
French features. Curving hips and tiny waist, shapely legs, a good figure.
She was the kind of woman that a maitre 'd would seated ahead of you, and y
ou
wouldn't think twice about it. She expected it and she got it.
Unprepared is how she looked now. A beautiful girl, unprepared for
anything but the best of treatment. From men and women alike. Unprepared
for
what was coming. She was disoriented and slightly unsure of her balance.
Her
blouse was wet with perspiration at her breasts. She held her elbows out,
keeping the handcuffs behind her at belt level. Nervously she transferred
her
weight for foot to foot, unaware that she was slowly making a circle.
"You better be right."
Lollipop's - A Falcon
It was the first time I had seen the new Lollipops. A large stage jutti
ng
out into a sea of tables. A high ceiling with balcony, one seat deep on th
ree
sides. The decor was pretentious coming off as a Thai's version of an
eighteen century French bordello. Tacky. In a town that had redefined the
meaning. But the hard-core did not brave a six hours train ride to critiqu
e
the decor. The place was packed. With Candyland closed, Lollipops was the
only underground club south of Chiang Mai. Colonel was raking in the baht.
One day I will get the Kloster franchise and make some real money. Bar
girls ran back and forth balancing trays of beer barely able to keep their
own
balance on ridiculously wobbling heels. The crowd was impatient. They had
traveled a long way for this. A rowdy table full of drunk Australians sang
Matilda, their beer sloping on the table and floor. Pairs of heels, their
soles worn and black with dirt, poked from under the soaked tablecloth.
Across the room, a smaller group in Union Jack tee- shirts bravely tried to
drown them out with off-key bars of God Save the Queen. In desperate need o
f
more voices, they conscripted a couple girls. Pulling them to their laps t
o
feel their pussy and tits provided the proper encouragement for their natio
nal
anthem. Throughout the commotion, a heavyset mamasan played comedian on the
stage telling jokes that no one listened to or could understand.
Finally she flashed her ponderous boobs and left the stage. Someone tur
ned
off the scratchy copy of Big Girls Don't Cry. The room hushed in
anticipation.
"You pay now for suckee-suckee!" was heard. A tiny female voice, shrill
with anger.
A thin man white shirt and black tie rushed forward and pulled the girl,
kicking and screaming from the room.
Everyone turned to look at the table. The man shrugged his shoulders. "
She
was no bloody good," he said to the room in thick Scottish accent. "I have
buggered sheep that were better." The room erupted in laughter.
The Colonel joined me at his table, the only one with a clean tableclot
h.
His little possession, Sarah in red vinyl micro-mini and see-through white
lace top followed a respectable four paces behind. The braver or more drun
k
of the patrons grabbed at her ass when she passed. I couldn't blame them t
he
little girl was cute. I made Roxanne, her mother, get up and give him her
chair. After all he was the boss.
For the occasion, I had her dressed in a cheap spandex one piece suit.
A
single string in back held up a V of material in front that barely covered
her
charms. Her collar kept her quiet and clear plastic heels with little
padlocks on the ankles completed her ensemble. While waiting I had been
amusing myself by cutting little holes for her nipples. The Japanese busin
ess
men at the other table were particularly absorbed by the process. With buc
k
tooth grins, they urged me on, their fingers making cutting motions in the
air.
The laughter died down and again the club was quiet.
I had Roxanne kneel for me on all fours. A little positioning and the
woman made a fine foot stool for Colonel Chao. While he rested his glossy
military boots, I soaked up her daughter's charms, taking in the beauty of
slim and no doubt firm thighs. Her still blossoming breasts, perky and so
very high on that tiny chest. "You let her watch this?," I asked him.
"Anhtuyet watch and learn. Anhtuyet be very good slut. I train her wel
l.
She do this and more some day."
So he still used her new name. Anhtuyet pulled her chair closer to her
master, cuddling against him her hand rubbing the gold falcon on his chest.
One leg draped over his. Her mother couldn't help but see.
"You are going to show her on the first night?," I asked.
"Right away. This Lollipops. Girls must earn their rice." Chao moved
Anhtuyet's hand to his lap and turned to me. "Anyway first show best show.
She have no idea what to expect."
He was right. Since we picked her up, no one had explained anything.
Marguerite Strangway must be terrified. I would soon see that she was.
The lights went out. For a few seconds Lollipops was dark until a stage
light shoot across the smoke filled room. The music came up. French horns
rising to a magnificent crescendo. Beethoven's fifth symphony. All eyes
followed the pulsing strobe light. High overhead it caught a bird freezing
it
in time and space until the next pulse. Like an old movie, strobing snapsho
ts
caught wings fluttering, circling then descending. The images came faster
until they blended together as one. Magnificent feathers, rich colors. A
falcon. A girl. Marguerite.
A red bandanna, knotted at her temple, Asian style, covered already tape
d
eyes. She was gagged with a beak, in proportion to such a magnificent
specimen. Wings were arms spread straight out from her sides held in place
by
a pole no doubt. Terrified, hung face down the blinded girl shook with fea
r
making wings of her arms. Falcon hovered over the stage with head down, fee
t
bound to her thighs again with a simple knot at the side, the loose ends
dangling to her waist. A web of ropes rose to pulleys high above. The
position forced her legs wide open. They fell, lowered slowly, landing her
gracefully head up, at her natural height but still suspended. Still
fluttering in silence she hung from the ropes, gently revolving in a half a
rc,
facing one side of the stage then the other. She was splendid, adorned in
feathers and skin tight body suit.
Chao took to the stage to a thunderous applause. A natural performer bo
th
on and off the stage, he welcomed his guest, reminding them to fill their
glasses and introduced the dangling girl as a, "stuck up French whore."
"She hear only with this." He fumbled with the tiny wires at her left e
ar,
finally connecting them to the giant Bob Hope era microphone.
Since he went on stage, I had been enjoying Roxanne and Sarah's attentio
ns.
Sarah sat on my lap, her love immediately transferred to me while her mothe
r
tired to pull down my zipper with her teeth.
"Lollipop have really big shoe tonight," he clowned with his audience.
"Give her big Lollipop howdy." He pressed a button, as the room erupted in
catcalls. "Lookie she fly!" His voice boomed throughout the room.
She was shaking, struggling to make use of her arms, to break her legs
free, to use her mouth, her eyes. She must have sensed that there were man
y
perhaps hundreds even thousands of unseen men leering at her while thrust u
p
and exposed. Chao steadied her spinning body by grabbing her crotch. His
other hand reached behind, tearing at the suit. Soon it lay at her feet.
Amidst the jeering and hooting he took off her beak and gag. The illusion
dissolved. No longer a glamorous bird of prey she hung naked and assailable
2E
A scared girl hanging with legs tied unable to hide her sex, her arms strai
ght
out. Useless. Defenseless. In her darkness, she pleaded to be released and
then not to be hurt but the room only laughed.
Chao pressed the button again, "You be good girl now. You have many
audience."
The startled girl could only snap her head around, trying desperately to
see.
"Now we learn all about girl." He holding the microphone stand at an ang
le.
Perhaps he thought it was a Las Vegas show. "Before you married, girly, wh
at
your name?"
"Fuck off you bugger!"
Anhtuyet!," Chao commanded.
Obediently little Anhtuyet jumped from my lap to kneel on stage at his
side. Chao patted her head, the ultimate disgrace in this country. At his
command she retrieved a lash and stood.
"We try this again." And again he asked her name.
"Princess Diana. Let me go you bloody fool, my husband will have."
The Colonel tapped her right breast once with his field marshals baton.
The teenager reached back and delivered an underhand hit with the lash that
would make any tennis player proud. "Cat of nine tails," Chao explained.
"Picked it up in Singapore. Used by English navy when hijack Thai's for
sailing ships. Good choice. No? Haa, haaa." You had to laugh with him. I
t
was a pleasure to watch a man that enjoyed his work.
"Wait. Wait. Almost forgot. Camera. Colonel Chao make movie. You
worthless dog. You get video running now or Chao whip your ass." His
unfortunate lackey ran to set up the video camera.
"You be big star. I video you. What you say. Thank you?"
"You fucking pig! Let me go or."
Chao choose the left nipple with his baton. Marguerite swung back from
the
force of Anhtuyet's lash. Her other breast was already covered by angry re
d
stripes.
"Name girly, before you marry?"
"Marguerite Smith." She felt the tap between her red striped breasts.
"No. Stop. Marguerite Rilley. That is my maiden name. I swear. Just don
't
hurt me again."
"You learn good. Now where you born?"
Marguerite told him. That and more. Her first memories. When she becam
e
aware of her sex. The time she walked in on her mother in bed with a man.
Her first sex, quick and fumbling in her college dorm. She gave his name,
and
with some encouragement gave a detailed account. I had given him enough
general information about her, that in her frightened state she must have
thought he knew everything. Anhtuyet's lash kept her answers full and
explicit. It was oddly stimulating to hear this woman divulge her innermos
t
secrets.
"No, I never did anything with a girl. I have only been with two men.
Actually one was just a boy and then my husband."
"Did you suck his cock?"
"Who? Oh, in college. No. Oh God no. I held and stroked it for him.
He
liked that. But that was all."
"How about husband. You suck for him?"
"No. Ahhhhh. Shit. You said you wouldn't hit me, if I told the truth.
He
wants me too, but I don't do that. I kissed it a little but I don't like t
o
do those things. It's not... not natural."
"He suckie on you?"
"Who? Not John. Never. I wouldn't want him too anyway. I already tol
d
you how I like it, face to face. Loving. Tender kissing."
Blindfolded. The only thing she heard was Chao's voice in one ear. The
only thing she felt was the touch of his baton followed by the sting of the
lash. She may have told more than she wanted.
That was all Chao had to hear. "It not so bad girl. You learn to like.
"
He tapped at her exposed mound. Anhtuyet dutifully covered it with the cat
of
nine tails. "Pussy very fun. Can make you cry with pain, sometime pleasure
2E"
Again he tapped where she trimmed her pubic mound.
Anhtuyet's lash was caught in mid stroke by Chao's grip. He took the la
sh
from her hand and directed the teen's head to the whimpering girl. Chao wa
s
carrying the microphone stand with him as he walked around the stage. He
pressed the button again. "First you got pain. Now get pleasure."
Anhtuyet inched closer, her back towards me. On her knees, Marguerite h
ung
just right, but Anhtuyet continued, not stopping until she was completely
under her. She leant backwards, her face upwards, giving all a clear view
of
her tongue probing the other woman's sex. Chao walked around them both. Li
ke
a meat inspector, he reached down to feel his merchandise.
Unhappy with what he found he produced a pocket knife to cut Anhtuyet's
lace blouse away. He liked the feel of that so he continued, not stopping
until Anhtuyet was also nude. All the while Anhtuyet was licking and slurpi
ng
then burying her tongue deep, her lips wide open, cheeks concave as she suc
ked
for sweet nectar. Marguerite's head fell back, her breast heaving, nipples
making little shadows on her full tits. She continued to moan first in pai
n.
Then much longer in embarrassed shame of being made to perform. Then ever
so
slowly, exactly when it changed was impossible to tell, but it had. Moans
had
changed to pleasure. Deep erotic, helpless pleasure cursing up through her
2E
The dam burst. All of a sudden Anhtuyet's face was covered with her. She
stopped to swallow, quickly wiping her nose with the back of her hand befor
e
again burring her face in Marguerite's snatch. Chao pranced around, directi
ng
an invisible orchestra, his baton swinging left and right. He paused betwe
en
Anhtuyet's legs. Bending over backwards made it easy to diddle her with th
e
baton, urging her on to even greater efforts.
With a crescendo she came. The microphone held to her lips filled the r
oom
with heaving moans of ecstasy cut off abruptly as she realized that she was
crying out loud. A hush fell over the room. Only the high squeal of a tap
e
in fast rewind was heard and the room again echoed with her love cries. On
ly
this time Chao pressed the button. Form head to stomach she flushed red.
Almost as intense as her whip marks.
Without pause Chao moved to the next act. "Suckee good for you. No? N
ow
fancy lady learn how." He raised his generals baton and electric motors
hummed. Slowly Marguerite's feet rose. She snapped her head around in alar
m
but her feet continued up until she was completely inverted.
Anhtuyet lay with legs waving eagerly in the air. A cushion raised her
bottom, her head drooping upside down to the audience. The motors hummed
again until Marguerite's face was lowered to her crotch. The Colonel, ever
the showman, produced a black plastic cock. He waved it at the tables. "Ye
s?"
"YES! YES! YES!," they responded.
"No. Chao think too small." He raised a huge day-glow orange vibrator.
The crowd did not need prompting to shout their approval. He threw the
electrical plug to a stage hand and turned it on. The vibrator shook wildl
y
in Chao's hand. For a moment even the hard-core thought it was for real un
til
they saw him laugh.
"Poke the bloody bitch!," someone yelled above the laughter.
Chao shook a manicured finger at the culprit. "First girlie make love t
o
my little tramp. Then after making sure the button was pressed, "You do go
od
job. Anhtuyet best tramp. She come six, seven time. I no let her come
anymore. But for stuck up lady, Okay."
Chao stood behind the inverted girl her legs folded and tied. A female
Y
with him in the middle. He gave her exposed sex a gentle love tap with th
e
baton to get her started. She hung there for a second and then another. Ch
ao
made a big show of peering between her legs. "I think her tongue moves," h
e
said. "Me not sure." Even little Anhtuyet raised her head to look.
"This no good, girly," he said looking truly disappointed. "Must do bett
er.
perhaps this help. You show big enthusiasm now or stuck up lady you get
arrested for prostitution. Prostitution big crime in Thailand." Chao wave
d
to the hysterical crowd, trying to get them to quiet down. "You get prison
2E
Long time. Pretty French like you be extreme popular. Make many girly
friends. You get police record. Send to British embassy, Interpol, your
Scotland Yard, every place. Husband loose job. He no want whore wife. Yo
u
be good girl now?"
"Go ahead and arrest me, you fat... Anything but this. I will tell the
police..."
Chao delivered a stinging snap of his baton directly to her open pussy.
Having regained her attention he continued, "Maybe whore try escape. Maybe
guard hurt. Gangster whore bad biddness." Chao took a fat finger off the
button until the howling and laughter died down to a bearable level. "Very
bad. Send to military re-education camp. Upcountry, Chiang Mai province.
Long time. Many year."
All it took was the mention of Chiang Mai. Women have a sense for these
things. They pass it from one to another, like bees. She could guess woul
d
happen to a western girl in their camps. It must have been a hard choice f
or
a diplomat's wife. But the thought of being an opium whore to the Thai Arm
y
was just too much.
Her body stirred and her mouth tasted sticky sweet teenage pussy.
Anhtuyet's head fell back that beautiful mouth gapping open, her eyes smili
ng.
"No good. French girl lazy," Chao proclaimed. "Need something. Someth
ing
to excite stuck up lady.." Chao circled the two women idly tapping the
day-glow vibrator in his hand. "What to do?"
Drunk on lust and booze the club responded, "FUCK THE STUCK UP LADY! FUC
K
STUCK UP! FUCK STUCK UP!" Thoughtful Chao, held the microphone towards the
tables, "Stuck up lady no hear you."
"STICK STUCK UP! STICK STUCK UP! STICK STUCK UP!,"
"Your friends want you fucked, Marguerite. You want to be fucked?"
"Nooo. PLEASE NO!" Marguerite screamed into Anhtuyet's vagina.
"Too bad stuck up lady. We play Bangkok rules. You get fucked now." Wi
th
that, Chao plunged the orange vibrator deep into the woman. His microphone
held to Anhtuyet's crotch caught every slurp and moan. The club filled wit
h
the unmistakable scream of a woman's penetration. "This help you show
enthusiasm." He turned the base and the huge orange shaft hummed to life.
Marguerite's tits were shaking, her face distorted. Her every moan
picked-up, amplified and echoed back. "Stuck up lady better. But still st
uck
up." Chao was waving the black dildo. "Lollipop doctor say ass very tight,
no
make good fuckee. Dildo in ass good medicine," he joked. "Stuck up lady,
you
open up now. You take in ass." He wet the dildo with his spit and worked
the
gleaming tool into her cheeks.
Marguerite's face was going through epileptic contortions as she
concentrated on her bowels, but she did not cry. With one hand Chao kept
pressure on the dildo, forcing it further in at her slightest quiver.
The motors hummed again and Marguerite was hoisted from a humping Anhtuy
et.
An Inverted cross of a female open for all. Her face flushed red from bein
g
upside down or from embarrassment, it was impossible to tell.
"Arms tire? I untie." The motors still hummed. "Legs sore?" With a
swift tug, Chao undid the bandannas at her thighs. A little circle with hi
s
hand and the motor cut off. Her hands and feet just reached the stage. A
stage hand hurried out, bowed to his master and turned to work the ropes. H
er
back arched, suspended by a single rope below her breast. The bird of prey
had become feline. Soon that too was gone. Unsure of what to do with her
newly found freedom, she waited on hands and knees, her once proud head
lowered.
"Over there!," Chao commanded. A slap with the cat and she scampered to
where his finger pointed. "Wait for me French whore girl," he ordered. "M
ore
open legs!"
"I work very hard. Need beer." He was working the crowd and they loved
it. The contrast was erotic. He took a long pull on a cold Kloster, his kh
aki
pants and shirt crisply starched. He looked like he should have been at th
e
officers club. A few meters away Marguerite knelt obediently, trembling, nu
de
and covered in sweat. Awaiting her fate.
I had let Roxanne take a break, turning her around so she could see her
daughter being eaten on stage. But I was bursting now. I pulled her back
to
me. Taking a handful of hair I rammed her mouth on me not stopping until h
er
lips were in my hair. Looking around I noticed that every female in the pl
ace
was being used in some way.
Chao tapped his baton against his leg and swaggered the few steps to sta
nd
over her. He held the full bottle of Kloster over her head, looking to his
audience. They chanted `yes' and he emptied the bottle over her. A loud
"WOOOO" came from the back of the club. The locals were thrilled by the
ultimate humiliation of a westerner.
"Now get up whore girl. Go to bar, across room, in back. Bring Thai h
ot
sauce back."
With the red bandanna still over her taped eyes Chao pushed a frightened
Marguerite into the crowd. Bravely she tottered forward. Beer ran in litt
le
streams over her breasts. Nipples were hard and erect. Tiny steps, her ha
nds
outstretched, directly into a table she bumped. Then hands reached for her
2E
Her scream was deafening. Drunken hands pawed at her breasts, between her
legs, her ass, all over they groped, probing, penetrating. Chao's constant
ly
joking, keeping her moving ever so slowly with countless detours to other
tables more penetrating fingers, around the room eventually towards the bar
in
back. I noticed she was walking with feet apart. The constant fingering to
o
abusive otherwise. The bartender put the dark bottle in her shaking hand,
wrapping her fingers tightly around its narrow neck. He turned the tremblin
g
girl toward the stage and gently pushed her into the sea of drunken men.
Every man had felt John Strangway's wife by the time Chao lifted her bac
k
unto the stage. Most had fingered her cunt. Some with a fist, others her
ass. Like a good girl she handed the little bottle to the big man. "On han
ds,
whore girl." Almost tenderly his large hand on her shoulders pushed her do
wn
on hands and knees.
The crowd had been hooting and hollering throughout the show. But now t
hey
went wild with anticipation. Chao was pouring Thai hot sauce over the blac
k
dildo. That stuff had been known to make grown men cry. He held the plast
ic
straight up, the pepper sauce ran down its length over his hands.
"Whore, girl. You stay on floor. Understand? Move around Ok, but no ge
t
up." Chao knelt down beside her taking her body in a wrestlers lock. Men
stood up and gathered around the stage for a better look.
Not really understanding what was about to happen but trying to please,
Marguerite nodded her head. Chao shook the excess from the dildo then with
a
twisting motion screwed the gleaming black rod into the girl's ass. His gr
ip
on her held for three, four, five seconds then in a screaming wild spasm sh
e
broke free. Diving a meter away, flat on her breasts, she scrambled to pul
l
the fire from her ass. It flew against the wall, shattering on impact.
Rolling over, the fire still burning within her, she cursed. Her hands pul
led
at her cheeks as if trying to rip herself in half. Around and around the
stage she scampered dragging her ass on the floor, then on her knees pausin
g
only to roll over before charging off, howling, on hands and legs, ass on f
ire
high in the air. For five minutes she scurried on the floor oblivious to
everything but her ass. I got up onstage and tackled her pinning her chest
to
the floor. Taking a Kloster, I shook it good and hard and shoved the foamin
g
neck into her. I could see the relief cross her face.
I found the little connector and plugged it back into the microphone. Wh
en
I knew she could hear me, I told her, "You did well. You only have one mor
e
show tonight."
Lollipop's - Family quarrel
It was rather nice upstairs over the club. I stood on Chao's little
terrace overlooking the Boulevard of the Tiger. At 5 am Joytown is as quite
as
it gets. The hard core are stumbling drunk from the club spilling into the
street. They shout and throw beer bottles against the building. In ones a
nd
twos the foreigners stumble towards their bus. Others with varying amounts
of
success head off to find a flop house, some place to crash for a few hours
until the next show. Down below a bus loads for the long tiring haul back
to
civilization. To a different life. I wondered if there is an empty seat.
The far end of the street is quiet. The large sprawling building dark.
Candyland is closed.
In a few hours the train will arrive. New buses will come, both emptying
more of the world's hard core low life's and two time losers onto the
Boulevard of the Tiger. All seeking that ultimate of decadent thrills. Th
e
real life fantasy.
"No. I can't." I wave off Chao's offer of yet another beer but turn to
join him. We are standing our backsides against the railing looking into t
he
room.
"You want sit down, Joe?"
"No, I just need to get some air. It's cooler out here."
"Too bad `bout Vopat's. British embassy send inspector. He watch
Candyland like hawk. Think British subjects in danger or something. I
Colonel. I got responsibility. Got to shut down Vopat. Just biddness, Jo
e.
Just biddness. You understand."
He wasn't asking.
We watched the girls in silence for a moment. Two girls were wrestling
another into position. One a redhead a striking beauty, tall and elegant,
very butch. A spiked red leather collar and bossy. The other had a round
face, young and sweet. Always following the redhead's lead.
"You not getting sentimental, Joe?"
"No not me." Chao was puffing on some God awful cigar. "It don't bothe
r
me none."
"That good, Joe. Some go soft after while. Do strange things. Find
religion. One guy, Milch, Austrian, strange man. He go upcountry to conve
rt
hill tribes. Slaver converting hill people." Chao laughed at the thought.
"Never see him again. Too bad, he owe me plenty. "
"It doesn't seem to bother some," I stated. Marguerite was putting up
quite a struggle but she was no match for the butch redhead and her girl
friend. The two girls had her up again on hands and knees. Their bare
breasts jiggled delightfully with the effort. It was all they could do to
hold her. The redhead called for help. She wanted Anhtuyet to open
Marguerite's pussy but Annie just held her daughter tighter.
"It no bother me," Chao said. I guessed that not much would. "They all
mine now. My children. They look to me to provide for them. And they so
grateful."
Annie sat against the far wall, her arms clutching Anhtuyet to her chest
2E
Her daughter was totally absorbed by the spectacle before her. Little Sara
h
was growing up to be the perfect slut.
"See Jan-Jan and her lezzie friend there," Chao pointed. "I lease them
from Vopat. Give good terms. Option to buy. He no need show act anymore.
I
do. Jan-Jan no need encouragement. She trained now. She turn Mandy into
lezzie. Pussy love." Chao made a disgusting gesture with his tongue.
Jan-Jan. Stafford. No it was Stanford. Janice Stanford and Amanda Boy
d
only they were Jan-Jan and Manda now. Old friends adjusted to their new
roles. Chao would have me believe they were part of his family. They may e
ven
think so. Even Sarah but definitely not Marguerite. She was getting the
brunt of Jan-Jan's attention right now. Held by her ears, her face pressed
tightly between Jan-Jan's bare breasts. Control the head and the body will
follow. The redhead's back was towards me. Now I knew where the scrapes on
her shoulders came from.
"One day you just know, Joe. It in their eyes. In their cunt. You fee
l
it when they wrap legs around your back. She belong to you and she know it.
She no want to go back. Now, Anhtuyet trained very good but Annie still mu
ch
independent. That not good, Joe."
"I know, bad biddness."
Manda patted the shoulders of the prone girl and pushed her down a littl
e
lower to get the angle right. The german shepherd slurped at her exposed
pussy and mounted the whimpering Marguerite. With an ease that comes from
practice, he worked into the female pussy. That damn dog was probably gett
ing
more pussy than me. The other shepherd, was it Philip or James, was feelin
g a
little left out. It was James the one with the bigger cock. James sniffed
Manda's familiar sex and nuzzled her stomach. She immediately rolled over
on
all fours. James was ready to mount his bitch when his nose perked up,
twitching in the air. The fresh sweet scent of Anhtuyet. The big shepherd
nuzzled his snout between the teenager's legs as her mother tired desperate
ly
to lure him away with her own sex.
"See they need me. A family quarrel." Chao laughed at his little joke.
He flicked the cigar over the rail and swaggered off to restore order in hi
s
family.
He was right, they can't go back. Not now, not ever. They have gone too
far done too much. How could you ever expect them to moan in delight, to
climax when hubby rolls over for his five minutes. Not after Joytown. But
you could say the same for me. Once you get on the bus, you got to go all
the
way.
I took a deep breath and picked up the camcorder. A wide shot panning
around the room. Chao was standing in the center, directing, a tower of
discipline and order. Anhtuyet dutifully took her position to accept James
2E
Marguerite, head thrown back in that curious female condition where pain,
humiliation and ecstasy get all confused. I walked slowly around to shoot
Jan-Jan getting off on the power of it all while her petite Manda squirmed
under the dog and girl to snuggle her face in her lover's crotch. I panned
over and let the camera linger on Annie's distressed expression.
Over Chao's shouting, the moaning, and the crying, I heard an old engine
start up and labor slowly through the gears. The last bus just left.
Lollipop's - Seeing is Believing
"Does he love you?" It was difficult talking with her. I had to shout
and
even then she would miss parts. Most of the wax had been dug from her ears
,
but Doc was right, she would have to soak in a few hot baths before she got
all her hearing back.
"Me? Of course. More than anything!" She was as self confident as
before, if anything, more so. That is why it was so difficult to get Chao
to
give her up. Each act was a new conquest. A defiant woman to be broken
again. Still some demon deep inside kept her from giving in, taking the ea
sy
way out, accepting her new status as Chao's sex slave.
"Do you think he will still love you if he knew?" She was quiet needing
time to come to grips with it. Her gloved hand went to the back of her nec
k,
unused to being so bare back there. I had liked her hair long. The way it
flew when she shimmered in the throws of orgasm. But Chao wanted a crowd
pleaser for the last act, so he hacked it off and hung her hair on his wall
2E
It was a different look for her but her natural beauty made even a hacked
butch cut look good. Quite a woman, Marguerite. I had stripped her earlie
r,
I just couldn't get enough of that bod. I had played with the idea of keep
ing
her for myself but I didn't need both Vopat and Chao after my ass. Fun but
definitely not healthy.
We sat, the two of us alone, in Vopat's plush limo. I wanted her to kno
w
that I was serious about letting her go. She looked like she was sleeping
but
I knew she was still thinking about him. The surgical tape was still holdi
ng.
Her eyes had been taped shut for three days now. Chao kept gloves on her i
n
between her three stage shows a day, to keep her from picking at the tape.
"I don't think any man would. Not after all the things you have done.
Damn, you could make a Chiang Mai whore puke. Here see for yourself."
It was time. I pulled my own mask on and pulled her head into my lap.
It
took a few minutes to get the tape off. Then I turned Vopat's VCR on. I
wanted her first sight in three days to be something she would remember.
It was a little grainy and jumped a bit from all the cuts, but there she
was, Marguerite on the little screen, stooped down dripping in beer and wor
se,
playing kiss the dick in a circle of drunken Africanos. Beer dripped from
her
nipples and ran down to her vagina where Anhtuyet lay, eagerly lapping up t
he
golden dew from her clit. She missed the first bit while she squinted, her
eyes adjusting to the light. So I replayed it for her. Then I pressed fas
t
forward, the screen a blur of skin tones. It stopped and the screen filled
with Marguerite's blindfolded face, smiling as the camera pulled back, the
smile the beginning of an orgasm. An earth shaker. Behind her a man with
heavy stomach hanging down in a fold was humping happily away.
"Enough. Enough. Please turn it off."
"There is nothing you can do. You don't know who we are or even where y
ou
are. We have the tape. How would you feel if a copy appeared in the
ambassador's mail. What would that do to John. Do you think he would like
it?"
"All you have to do is go back to you husband and don't tell him anythin
g.
You are a woman, you can do it. He thinks that you and your old friend,
Adrien, were touring the National Museum in Phnom Penh."
"Did you.? You didn't hurt her did you?"
"She is just fine. And will be, unless you give us a reason to look her
up."
"Here is a bag of souvenirs that you can show him." Marguerite opened t
he
gym bag and pulled out a T-shirt. Inside were the usual assortment of trink
ets
even canceled train tickets. "Wear it. You paid for it. We charged it all
on
your credit cards, even meals and hotel bills. There are some nice picture
s
in there too. The faces are a little hard to see, but it looks like two gi
rls
having a good time. Oh yeah, you paid 450 baht for that fashionable hair
styling. The receipt is in the bag."
"Would you like to be our guest again? Say in a week or two, or perhaps
next summer? London, Paris, your home, its OK, we will fly you back here.
You and John can't hide. Don't worry we will find you anywhere."
If you do not want to see us again. Never again. All you have to do Mrs
2E
Marguerite Strangway, is to get your husband to stay at home. He is to nev
er
leave Bangkok again, until you decide to leave the country. And then you m
ust
never return. Do you understand? Good. Now repeat it to me."
She did and she agreed. I knew she was a smart girl.
Lollipop's - Going South
I had to get away, after returning a well used Marguerite Strangway to a
n
unknowing hubby.
There is something about decadence that appeals to me. It must have
something to do with selling vagina's. It feeds on itself. Once you start,
you need more and more to keep the faces away at night.
Vopat is my buddy again. He is all smiles since Strangway left. The he
at
is off, Chao lifted the restrictions, everyone is rolling in baht again. I
n
fact Vopat is so happy that Candyland has reopened, he loaned me the limo f
or
my vacation.
A little working vacation was in order. A couple of weeks in a decadent
luxury beach resort in Samui does wonders. So does warm sunshine by the po
ol
while sipping a vodka collins with a beautiful woman. Mom lounged in the
recliner at my side. I reached over and rubbed tanning lotion on her bare
breasts, her skin warm to my fingers. I worked the oil around the hoops in
her nipples, the piercing still sore from last night. Across the pool the
family stared and talked among themselves. I took hold of Roxanne's bikini
and tugged the bottom tight into her snatch. Annie knew what was expected.
She slid her legs wider apart causing even more commotion across the pool.
The lady gathered up her children and shooed them away. She had to call tw
ice
to get her husband to follow.
Annie has been behaving like a good girl. I can trust her now that she
is
reunited with Anhtuyet, I mean Sarah. I won't permit her to talk to strang
ers
but I put her under strict orders not to refuse anything of any man. It ma
kes
our visits to the nightclubs very interesting. I have insurance that she
won't try anything stupid. Upstairs, Sarah waits spread eagle, locked in m
y
suite.
At first, Colonel Chao was not too happy at loosing both his top act and
Anhtuyet. But a deal was a deal. Anyway he had made enough money off
Marguerite. In the end, I agreed to take on a little job for him. He woul
d
pick up my expenses in return for a new act.
I leaned back and put my Ray Ban's on. A bell boy, his arms full of
flowered luggage came through the double doors. Behind him, a shapely blon
de
followed. She held a matching makeup case in both hands.
"Its so dreamy! Not at all like California." She passed directly in fr
ont
of me, white shoes clicking on the tiles, a summer fragrance in the air.
Beautiful.
"Hurry up, Elsbeth. I can hardly wait."
"I'm coming, sis!" Elsbeth, in tight shorts, scurried after them.
Damn! Twins! It will be a shame to cut my vacation short.
-- Stroker Ace -- Comments Welcome -- EOF
Date: Thu, 19 Sep 1996 13:25:03 -0500 (CDT)
From: Hawaiian Heat <hheat@accessus.net>
Reply-To: Hawaiian Heat <hheat@accessus.net>
Subject: BS01 -- The Newlywed by Marlissa 1/4
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BS-1-1.TXT -- (m/f, f/f, b&d, white slavery)
The following story contains adult material. If below the age of 18, go
outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).
If you ARE 18, then you should know the following story is about a young woman
who is forced into non-consensual sex, public humiliation, and b&d, in both m/f
and f/f situations. Both the characters and occurences in this series are
completely fictitious.
NOTE: Parker characters used with the permission of the author.
The Newlywed:
A Bangkok Slaver Story
by Marlissa
an225040@anon.penet.fi
Part 1/4
My Timex read 10:35 and I crushed out the half-smoked Marlboro with the heel of
my shoe. The United flight from LA was finally in and I had an appointment to
keep. A smile and a 100 baht note bought me through customs and I waited
behind a boisterous tour group of Germans, scanning the debarking passengers as
they were hustled through immigration.
I only had the vaguest description from my bagman in immigration security --
redhead with glasses in a pink nylon windbreaker, designer jeans, young,
promising figure. But hell it was easy enough to spot her. Confused,
irritated and -- typically American -- very vocal, she was blasting a uniformed
immigration clerk. I walked up, flipping my fake DEA badge to both the annoyed
clerk and the young woman.
Relief at the official-looking American in the neat dark suit, then anxiety as
her mind clouded with the implications. She looked up tentatively. "What the
hell is going on here?" Not so sure of herself anymore.
Without pausing, I swooped her passport out of the hands of the relieved
immigration clerk, passing him an official looking document. Actually it is a
note from my inside bagman and a 100 baht note. He smiled and bowed, leading
us to an empty office, then disappearing back into Arrivals/Customs.
"Meganne Ryan?" I asked politely.
She nodded, then shook her head with a foolish expression. "Uh, actually
Meganne Ryan Linsky -- we were just married yesterday! Uh, where's my husband?
He was told he had to check something about our luggage and that he could come
right back." The tone was cosmopolitan world-traveler, but it was definitely a
put-on. There was a nervous little girl quiver in her voice now.
I nodded, not wanting her spooked. "Yes, no problem Miss, I mean Mrs. Linsky.
He'll be right back. There was just an irregularity with your some of your
baggage. He' s been asked to identify your bags. These a bag similar in
appearance and it is unfortunately filled with controlled substances. We know
it isn't yours -- should just take a minute to sort out. There's a scam going
on with unsuspecting tourists like yourself," I explained, sounding
convincingly confidential. "Baggage gets re-tagged on the ground and smugglers
try to pass their luggage off as yours. As you may know, the DEA is working
with Thai officials here in Bangkok to curb some of the drug smuggling that
goes on -- heroin, opium, hashish --"
Her green eyes popped open in alarm. "You don't think Donald --"
I shook my head. "Oh, of course not. We've checked his records and he's
clean. Refresh my memory -- he's in the high tech business, right?"
She shook her head, the short stylishly cut orange-red hair swaying curtly.
She adjusted her tortoise shell glasses with short nails that were finely
manicured and coated with clear polish. She took a harder look at me now. "No
-- insurance," she replied warily.
"Of course, of course." I looked at her passport again, checking the age --
twenty -- and made a logical leap. Voice was polished, East Coast. "And you
are still in college right?"
She smiled now, more at ease. "Right -- I graduate in six months from Boston
College in accounting. Donald is a year older than me," she explained, "and
after graduation we'll settle right down and..." she grinned, "start on a
family."
I could see her now -- in a plaid skirt and monogrammed sweater, clutching her
accounting text books, walking across campus, nose in the air. Intellectual,
somewhat uptight, with a high degree of self-possession, she was the kind of
girl who tended to do well in her career, marry well and maintain a superior
view of the world. Balanced, conservative and thoroughly predictable. That
summed up Meganne Ryan's world. Until now.
"We just couldn't wait to get married so here we are! Eloped! Off to Bangkok
for a honeymoon! We got the best deal at the last minute! No one even knows
we're here!" she confided impishly. Her chin jutted out in self-satisfaction
and she unconsciously played with her gold crucifix necklace. Then she frowned
worriedly. "God -- I can't believe we got mixed up with drug smugglers!
Should I call a lawyer or something?"
I waved my hand and laughed. "God, no -- these things happen all the time!
You've got nothing to worry about. We just need Donald to look through your
bags and make sure there's no mistake." Actually Donald was being led through
the farthest warehouse from Changi Airport. His luggage had been "lost" and he
needed to identify it -- another couple hundred baht to a baggage handler. I
could see the blandly good-looking, bewildered Donald being led into the bowels
of the huge holding area for commercial cargo.
I checked my watch again. I had at least another hour. I looked up and smiled
reassuringly. I needed to make a decision -- now. Would this be the one? I
examined her closely. Not a beauty -- maybe a respectable seven at best. The
face was nice -- lightly made up with high, full arching eyebrows over
intelligent pale green eyes, bright if thin red lips on a pale freckled face.
The nose was long and prominent, but the cheekbones were high and the
complexion good. She was tall and willowy, her rounded slim hips giving her a
coltish athletic appeal. Leggy too -- a big plus, considering. If her tits
were even half-way decent sized -- tough to tell with her baggy windbreaker --
she'd buy my way out with money to spare.
"Can I take your jacket? Bangkok is an awfully humid place."
The thin red lips pursed in a politely grateful smile and shook her head. "No
thanks -- when will Donald be here? He knows where I am, right?"
I smiled. "Of course he does. Say, can I get you something to drink while we
wait? Shouldn't be more than a few more minutes. I'll call down to the other
agents and get you a local drink I think you'll like. Then of course, I'll
have an embassy car take you and Donald to the hotel at once -- the least we
can do for the inconvenience!"
The green eyes flashed in appreciation. An embassy escort! "That'd be great,
Mr..."
"Agent Jackson, Ma'am. I'll be right back with something good."
************
Earlier that evening. Me, Vopat and Tam drinking Kloster's in the back office
of Candyland..
"Joe in big trouble, yes?" Vopat's weasally eyes narrowed, looking at a mouse
caught in a trap. That mouse -- me. Tam eyeing me too -- her cold round blue
eyes and tapered nose in sharp contrast to her dark Thai skin and small, hard
Thai girl- body.
"Yeah. You know then?"
His smile was wide, if not sympathetic. "Everyone in Joytown know. Colonel
Chao very unhappy, very, very unhappy. Say Joytown not good place for you to
be anymore unless you see him soon." He hissed "soooon" and I restrained a
shiver. I wasn't going to give this fat creep the pleasure.
I shrugged. "Joytown is a small place, isn't it?" The collection of go-go
bars, strip joints and bordellos known as Joytown was hardcore Bangkok.
Tourists didn't know Joytown, because tourists wound up getting killed there.
It was off-limits except for the hardcore farang or foreigners who lived
longterm in Bangkok -- who knew the rules and could handle it. It made Patpong
look like Disneyland, catering to every demented sexual fantasy devised by Thai
or farang alike. And it had been my home turf for the last five years. Until
now.
"I intend to see the Colonel very soon. Soon no more problems."
Vopat grinned. Tam, his head girl, sneered. "Chao kill you dead, Joe," she
whispered loudly. Her blue eyes flaming to life with the prospect. She hated
me and despite her taut exotic beauty, the feeling was mutual. I knew it
wasn't personal -- it was all about an American father who deserted her mother
years ago to go back to his Western wife. She hated American men, only hating
the most-times invisible American women even more.
I downed my Kloster and started to rise. She was right and I was depressed.
The Chang Mai mineral concession bought with Chao's loan had proved a hoax, the
paper on the land all fake. Which meant six months and twenty-five thousand
baht down the drain. Chao's money -- not mine. My prospects for a straight
gig up in smoke, and my prospects from continuing existence on this earth on
the same course -- unless I could get the money back to Chao somehow.
Otherwise a certain Thai police colonel was going to have my ass for lunch the
following day.
Vopat's chubby hand fell on mine, pulling me gently back down. "Maybe we do
business."
I listened helplessly, watching Tam's face brightened with every detail her
boss threw out. A half hour later I nodded.
****************
The eucalyptus juice had been the right approach. Booze would have been too
suspicious. Meganne had sucked it right down, eager to try a local delicacy --
no doubt part of the honeymoon story she would bring back. "And then the DEA
agent got me this stuff they drink there made out of eucalyptus! I was
finishing it when Donald FINALLY came back with the luggage and we got to the
hotel in an embassy car -- can you believe it????"
But it wasn't the honeymoon suite at the Oriental she was going to. She dozed
heavily on the sedatives I had laced the drink with as I picked her up out of
the back trunk. Going up the backway, I knocked on Vopat's back office
entrance. The place looked like a downscale housing project in the Bronx, but
it had an airtight security system -- no one in or out unless it was necessary.
The steel reinforced door opened and I entered.
Tam gave me a barely perceptible bow. "You sit -- Vopat here soon."
************
I took a seat, placing the comatose girl at my feet. The mickey was
double-dosed -- she wasn't going anywhere. Bored, I rummaged through her
purse. There was a wallet, which I quickly divested of about five hundred in
traveler's checks and another two hundred in US dollars. There were some
photographs -- the boyfriend-now-husband looking around sheepishly sitting with
his future wife's arm positively around his waist, a faded black and white of
an older man, a group shot of fresh-faced sorority girls in front of a snowman.
I dug deeper, finding birth control pills, tampons, Certs, keys on a Delta
Omega sorority keychain, a membership card for "The Tannercise Club -- Where
Girls Get Tan, Trim & Fit!," spare change, a half-off coupon for L'Eggs
pantyhose, pink lipstick, clear nail polish, a compact, a brush, a nail
clipper, a small sample bottle of Chanel No. 5, an undergrad library card for
the Boston College library, a civil wedding license from the city of Revere,
Massachusetts, an address book, a folded-up study guide for next semester's
courses, and a paperback travel guide -- "Thailand on Twenty Dollars A Day."
Tucked inside the book was a travel magazine article cheerily entitled "Why Not
Bangkok -- For The Perfect Honeymoon!" There was a copy of her grades over the
past semester: Advanced Accounting Practices- 3.5, Basic Business Law-3.3,
Intermediate Marketing Theory-3.7, Intro to the Classics-2.5, and
Statistics-4.0. Bright girl.
Digging deeper, I found a small, tattered black leather notebook, locked with a
nickel-plated clasp. I tried to pull the cover open, but the lock refused to
give. I searched for the keychain and found the small matching nickel-plated
key. Unlocking it, the pages flipped open naturally, revealing page after page
of prim, cursive script in blue ink. I flipped back to the first page.
"Meganne Ryan's Journal" was inked on the cover page in a confident, looping
feminine hand.
Fascinated, I began reading, flipping from entry to entry...
"Donald is so cute -- he practically begged me tonight to let him do it with
me! I won't of course -- not till we're married. If he only knew about Tom
from last semester! But Donald really is a better choice -- more money for one
thing (I double-checked-- his father IS the president of Cosmopolitan Fire
Surety, only the biggest insurance company on the East Coast!!! And Donald's
working there too- as a VICE PRESIDENT!!!) and easier to keep in line. Poor
thing was so desperate, so I did give him a little feel down there with my hand
--"
"My stepmother wrote -- first time since I left home. She's trying to be nice,
but it is obvious she's just going through the motions. Asked me if I wanted
to come home for Christmas and didn't ask real enthusiastically either. Since
Dad died a couple years ago though -- what's the point? Millstone, Maine seems
like a hundred million miles away from here. I've gotten my scholarship on my
own- she never did anything for me. I wrote her back saying I couldn't -- I
was doing senior year in Italy. Also that I might end up working there after
graduation for a few years. Anything to keep her out of my life. Good -- now I
don't have to bother with Millstone ever again! I can see it now -- crummy
boarded up Main street, the burned out mill, the --"
"Donald is behaving nicely. He no longer talks about waiting till after
graduation to get married. Good! I'm not waiting that long and he is doing
well enough in the job his dad got him in insurance so we can afford a decent
honeymoon a lot sooner than then! Still won't tell his parents about me --
snob! Just because he's from old Boston money and I'm from dead dirt farmers
in Maine. Like he's so experienced -- I'm about the only girl he's ever gone
out with! He's so inexperienced. Why just the other night..."
"I'm getting tired of his wishy-washiness. When we get married, I'll have to
whip him into shape. Why is it that all men have to act like they're the boss,
when it is perfectly clear that women run things? He's so stubborn! Until he
wants to mess around, that is! Tonight I let him feel me up -- he was so
grateful! Even if I can tell he isn't total thrilled with the size of my boobs
-- still, his hands were pretty busy under my blouse --"
"Big fight with Donald tonight. I laid down the ultimatum -- either we get
married during winter break or else it's over! He thinks I'll back down, but I
won't. And I'll win -- because we both know I have what he wants!"
"Donald came crawling back -- that didn't take long. I let him squirm for a
while then forgave him. He was practically crying with relief! He was so cute
I even told him we could do it. It didn't take very long -- he's not anywhere
near as big as Tom! Poor thing was so excited -- it was over in a minute! I
just thought about where I wanted us to buy -- Dover or Sudbury? Addresses are
so important to make the right connections --"
"Donald says he is breaking up with me. I try to be nice and this is what I
get for it! Well, Donny-boy -- I won't let you get away that easily! He
thinks I'm some hick chick he can screw and abandon, but he doesn't know who
he's dealing with --"
"Showed Donald the report my sorority sister Carol gave me. She works in the
clinic for work-study and faked a positive pregnancy test. Big dumb Donald was
mad for a minute, then he hugged me and said of course we'll get married.
Finally! Like he thought he was getting away without a fight!"
"Made Donald withdraw all his bonus money for a decent ring and our honeymoon.
Got a nice full carat diamond from Shiffer & Laverly's -- it is gorgeous! I'm
keeping it a secret till after I get back from the honeymoon, but I can't wait
to show all my sorority sisters! All except for Carol -- she's transferring to
a school out West. Too bad -- she's been a real friend! Donald still hasn't
said anything to his family or friends. He's so chicken he'll get talked out
of it by his parents. Says he'll tell everyone when we get back and it is a
'done deal.' Fine -- I'm too excited about the honeymoon to care."
"I can't believe we're going to Bangkok! It is so exotic -- the 'Traveler
World' article said it was the most interesting place. And to think I've never
even been out of New England! Donald got his blood test done only after I
nagged him for a solid week! Next Tuesday and we're off to the Clerk's Office!"
"Donald asked me if I could wear something that would make my boobs bigger
during our honeymoon -- says he was just being honest about what he wanted.
God -- what a jerk! But we're getting the license tomorrow. I can't risk him
backing out now. And he did ask in the most whining way. So I told him, sure
honey I'll wear something you'll like.
Can't wait to lay the law down with Donny-boy. He has such wrong ideas about
what our marriage is going to be like -- like about my staying home with our
'baby' and being some kind of Stepford wife -- wrong!!! Like I'm going to stay
home and bake cookies all day! I'm not stopping till I'm running one of the
Big Eight accounting firms. And with Donald's family connections, that's not
so impossible."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Wed, 18 Sep 1996 11:54:02 -0500 (CDT)
From: Hawaiian Heat <hheat@accessus.net>
Reply-To: Hawaiian Heat <hheat@accessus.net>
Subject: BS01 -- The Newlywed by Marlissa 2/4
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BS-1-2.TXT -- (m/f, f/f, b&d, white slavery)
The following story contains adult material. If below the age of 18, go
outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).
If you ARE 18, then you should know the following story is about a young woman
who is forced into non-consensual sex, public humiliation, and b&d, in both m/f
and f/f situations. Both the characters and occurences in this series are
completely fictitious.
NOTE: Parker characters used with the permission of the author.
The Newlywed:
A Bangkok Slaver Story
by Marlissa
an225040@anon.penet.fi
Part 2/4
Footsteps broke the quiet and I closed the diary. It was Vopat. He seemed
pleased, his fat face jiggling at the sight of the drugged unconscious white
woman. "She look like good value Joe. Not blonde, but still o.k. Could be
good deal for you."
Like most all Asian men, Vopat thought all American women were buxom blonde
cheerleader types. Clearly that's what he had been expecting, but a redhead
was still exotically acceptable. I handcuffed the girl's hands behind her.
She moaned but was still deep in the stupor of the drug.
"Good deal, my ass. We're talking fifty thousand baht -- just like we said."
He just continued to smile, his hands on his belt now.
To be on the safe side, I gagged her as well, then threw the cuffs over a hook
hanging in the middle of the room. As the weight bit into her wrists, her eyes
jerked open with a start. Squinting, she tried to get a bearing on where she
was, her green eyes flashing confusion then fright as she recognized me.
"Ump, g'ump m'ump --"
Tam appeared from between acts in her trademark black bikini top, spandex
hotpants, three inch heels and holding her badge of authority -- the riding
crop. She didn't dance any more but kept discipline among Vopat's other girls.
Her open palm caught the pale cheek of Meganne Linsky's face like a typhoon
wave hits a shoreline. The pale girl began to shake in teary agony.
"Shut up bitch!" Tam ordered, with another palm raised. The girl shivered, but
stilled herself.
I tossed her passport, purse, wallet and jewelry on the table. Tam immediately
snatched up the two rings and slipping them on her two finger, showed them off
to Vopat.
"Pretty! For Tam?" she demanded.
Vopat shrugged and Meganne Linsky watched as the Thai whoretrainer took
possession of her wedding and engagement rings in impotent rage and fear. With
calculated spite, the Thai flashed the rings in the face of the American girl.
"Mine now bitch!" she hissed. Then she yanked off the crucifx as well, tossing
that on the floor.
Those green eyes were on me now and I wanted out. "All right, gimme my dough
-- fifty thousand, Vopat. I delivered the goods and I want my money."
The newlywed Meganne Linsky realized the goods I was referring to was in fact
her. She tried to scream, but the gag muffled her. She swung wildly from the
steel ceiling hook, kicking and crying. Vopat shook his bald head and Tam
swung back with her crop. It landed square on Meganne's ass and the squealing
intensified.
"First I inspect new property, Joe. Tam! Enough!"
Tam dropped the crop. The white girl was still again, only the sniffles
disturbing the fetid air of the dingy office.
"Strip the bitch so Joe can get his payment," Vopat ordered.
Tam bowed -- she knew Vopat's business voice well. She dropped to her knees
and unlaced Meganne's Reeboks, then proceeded to pull off her socks and Chic
jeans. Her long, shapely pale legs wanted to kick at Tam, but Meganne had
learned a taste of the price of such a move so she remained still.
"Joe -- what that mean?" Vopat snapped at Meganne's undergarment. The American
girl cringed at the touch but remained still.
I chuckled at the absurdity of it. He was referring to the little g-string she
was wearing. It was a dainty triangle of white silk with a red heart over the
center. On the heart was embroidered in cursive script "Only For My Hubby".
"It's for her wedding night Vopat. She just got married and she put it on as a
surprise for her husband on their honeymoon. She probably got it at her bridal
shower from one of her girlfriends, didn't you Meganne?"
She nodded, searching my eyes for any empathy. Her pleas hung silently in the
air. ****God, please get me out of here ****Please***Please***Please***
Please****
I turned back to the Thai. "Aren't you a romantic at all, Vopat? She's just
trying to be sexy for her new husband."
A thought occurred to him. "She virgin Joe? If she virgin -- that mean extra
for you!" His pudgy hands rubbed themselves in glee at the prospect.
I shook my head. When she had mentioned Boston College, visions of a nice
Catholic schoolgirl in a plaid skirt had filled my head too. But I knew it
wasn't so -- the birth control pills in her purse said otherwise. "No,
unfortunately I doubt you can find a twenty year old virgin in America anymore
Vopat. Still, you'll agree, she IS fresh." I caressed her pale, white cheek.
I noted that she tried to brush against my hand. Smart girl -- playing for
angles. She'd play to the American. Better him than the two Thais. She
wasn't an accounting major for nothing. Still, fifty thousand baht weighed
more heavily than the fake affections of a soon-to-be bargirl -- white or not.
I could buy lots of affection for the remaining twenty-five thousand baht I'd
have left over. It only cost five hundred baht a night for one girl -- and
hell, I'd bought a half dozen one drunken evening in Joytown.
Vopat nodded. "Fresh, yes. Maybe I call her Red. You like that name girlee?"
He stroked the girl's cheek now but she twisted away.
I backed away and Tam continued to strip the girl. Unzipping the wind breaker,
I was relieved to see a pair of ripe B cups staring back at me from underneath
a white Boston College t- shirt. Not huge but o.k. Vopat nodded, pleased. He
put a premium on big tits as most Thai girls weren't big up top. Luckily these
seem to pass muster.
"O.k.?"
Tam held up her hand. "First off shirt, then pay Vopat." He agreed and she
produced a knife, cutting away the fabric before Meganne's helpless eyes. The
brassiere matched her g- string, a white and red silk affair with frilly lacy
shoulder straps and a little red bow where the two cups met. Tam unclipped the
bow and the two cups parted.
Tam was wracked with laughter. Vopat turned red, staring at me. I swallowed
hard. Meganne looked away as the three of us focused on the two falsies on the
floor, then at her chest. I remembered the diary but had forgotten to manage
Vopat's expectations. Big mistake.
I waied -- the traditional Thai gesture to show respect. "Vopat, my apologies.
I had no idea."
Vopat remained impassive, a tight smile on his face.
"We can renegotiate, of course," I added, stating the obvious. I was desperate
now -- if he didn't want her, who would? And what would I do with Mrs. Meganne
Linsky? I doubted the Colonel would accept her in lieu of payment. As I
struggled to find a solution, Tam let her hands curl around the nude girl.
Cruelly, she tweaked the nipples on the girl's small nubby breasts. The
nipples hardened quickly in the cool air conditioned air and the breasts
swelled as much as they might under Tam's touch. They were slight mounds,
maybe AA cups at best. Training bra breasts of a thirteen year old -- not a
twenty year old college girl. "Are you a girlee or lady-boy? Huh?"
This seemed the most humiliating question that could have been posed to
Meganne, because she blushed a tropical red and began to cry. Not tears of
rage, but tears of utter humiliation. Idly, I wondered how many tears she had
shed over those two less-than-handfuls throughout her high school and college
years. How many dateless nights, how many cruel jibes from other girls and
boys...
Tam had inserted her hand underneath Meganne's wedding night panty and then
between her legs. From the way the Thai girl viciously twisted her wrist
underneath those panties and the horrified way Meganne's hips suddenly
circle-jerked, I could guess what Tam was doing. "Guess you a girlee
afterall!" Tam giggled again.
"Forty-five thousand," I offered in a conciliatory tone. Vopat stared at me
with that steely-hard smile and shook his head. No counter-offer was a bad
sign.
As we faced off, I rattled my brain cells to come up with a selling strategy.
I needed money. I needed it badly. And Vopat knew that. He had the
advantage, but he was still so pissed off at the loss of face that he wasn't
budging. It was then that I noticed what Tam was doing.
The brown-skinned Thai girl was playing with Meganne's tiny breasts in
fascination, tweaking the nipples with that feral grin of hers as Meganne
squirmed in agony. The helpless redhead tried to separate herself from her new
admirer in an impotent paroxysm of sways and shoves. I doubted that even if
she were being mauled by a man that way Meganne Linsky wouldn't have hated it
as much. But being fondled by another woman was too much. Tears were
cascading down those fine high-sculpted cheeks of hers. Tam just smiled and
licked Meganne's pink ears.
"I think maybe Tam has a new friend."
Vopat saw what I saw and grunted. "No care. No want."
Tam heard this and untwined herself from the suspended girl, to Meganne's
obvious relief. Her cold blue eyes grew luminescent in the cool backoffice as
she cuddled next to her employer and whispered in his ear. Vopat's angry smile
softened, chuckled, grew amused and finally laughed at his head girl's
suggestions. He patted her hotpanted backside and Tam withdrew to his side,
handing him a calculator.
It was the traditional Asian way of negotiating a price -- the calculator made
the offer. If the offer was refused, there was no loss of face. He was going
to negotiate. I had no idea why -- obviously something Tam had said. I didn't
care. My appointment with the Colonel was coming up. I sighed inwardly as he
punched in a number and handed it to me.
I took it. It read fifteen thousand. Not a great start. I shook my head
politely, punched in a new number, which he in turn refused and
counter-offered. We impassed at twenty-five thousand baht. Exactly the amount
of my debt -- as Vopat knew.
I looked at Meganne Linsky. Her own green eyes had darted from between me and
Vopat like an observer at a tennis match. They were wide and teary behind those
tortoise shells of hers. I remembered she had said she was an accounting major.
She had an inkling of what was going on, I was sure. What thoughts were
streaming through that captive brain of hers? That if she had waited six months
to graduate, that if she hadn't eloped, that this would never have happened to
her? How would she escape? Would ransom do it? How much would they want? In
the meantime, what would they do to her? And would her Donald even want her
back? Would she ever get back to her middle class college girl life again?
If I accepted Vopat's offer, I knew the answers to all those questions.
Especially the last one. New white female flesh was too valuable in this part
of the world to part for cash, despite Vopat's haggling and despite her less
than generous bust. But she would learn these answers herself over the next
few months -- slowly, probably painfully, but she would learn them. I knew
that because of two things -- Tam's evil, hungry smile and my nod, accepting
Vopat's offer.
Meganne moaned as we shook hands, sealing the deal.
With the handshake, Tam grinned like a Siamese cat and sauntered up to the
hanging, pantied white girl. Thai girls love white complexions -- the paler
the better -- and I could see Tam enviously examine Meganne's freckled, pale
skin. Then Tam's nose wrinkled in disgust and she pulled off Meganne's
glasses, flinging them down to the ground. Without looking down, Tam ground
the spectacles and smashed her spike heel through each lens. Meganne squinted
down at the smashed glass, anxiety washing over her again.
"Not pretty on new girl. Vopat, what new girls' name? Still 'Red'? Or that
no good now? I think no good now," Tam added slyly.
Vopat's big face turned without the neck seeming to move. "What name you like,
Tam?"
The Thai girl catily pulled on the white girl's breasts. "She flat... so why
not 'Flatsee'?"
Vopat shrugged. It was as good as any other. He chucked up Meganne's chin.
"You hear Tam? You name Flatsee from now on. You nod so I know you
understand."
Meganne's body flailed again in violent reaction to this. It was as if she had
been electrified with a shame too awful to swallow. Her long white legs swung
wildly -- even as Tam drew back her riding crop. Five brisk swings later,
Meganne shivered in surrender, her backside striped with crimson. Tam loosened
the gag. She looked up, her pretty face bathed in dumb amazement and flushed
pain.
"Vopat ask you if you know your new name. You say your new name," Tam
commanded.
Meganne's lips fluttered pitifully, all the while looking straight at me.
"F-flat-s-s-see." Tam grinned. Her newest girl had just accepted her
rechristening with hardly any effort.
Tam drew back the crop and Meganne began to cry. But the Thai girl merely
patted the pantied white girl's ass with it. "You be good girl now, Flatsee. I
train you to be very good bar girl. You make Vopat lots of dollars at
Candyland."
Meganne's lips tightened and then screamed. "God, nooooo! Please! Don't!
Anything! I'll pay! Any amount -- please!" She focused on me with her squinty
eyes. "God, you're an American! You can't leave me with them! Please -- I'll
do anything -- ANYTHING!!!!!!"
Involuntarily, my cock twitched up. Anything. I hesitated for a second and I
think -- I'm not sure -- that the hint of a grateful smile was beginning to
blossom on her wan, desperate face. But my palm was already out, collecting the
twenty-five thousand baht due me for my merchandise. And Tam had already
jammed the gag back over her mouth and wrenched the honeymoon g-string off.
Vopat smiled. "Twenty-five thousand baht," he declared. "You make Colonel
happy now?"
I looked at Mrs. Meganne Ryan Linsky as she was being trained by her new
mistress, Tam, Candyland's whoretrainer. Her legs were cuffed and Tam had
decided to break the new girl's spirit through a thorough cropping. Meganne's
long legs struggled to dance in the cuff bonds as stroke after stroke fell on
the smoothly curved naked backside. Tam relished her work as she repeated the
girl's new name over and over again.
"FLATSEE FLATSEE FLATSEE FLATSEE FLATSEE..."
As I watched the torrents of tears flow down the newlywed wife on her
honeymoon, I wondered how things had come to this state -- how I had come to
such a place where I was selling female flesh for a mere thousand US. And then
I remembered I had to go. I bowed to Vopat and he clapped my back.
"We do business again, I think, Joe." He seemed certain.
I wasn't and didn't reply. I looked back one last time. Tam was shaving the
girl's orangey-red mound as the shell shocked girl sniffled. She looked at me,
the look as audible to me as the most pathetic begging, searing into my memory
forever. It was the most despicable thing I'd ever done, but I didn't have
time to think about that now. I shrugged and turned. I had a date with a
colonel.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Thu, 19 Sep 1996 13:25:20 -0500 (CDT)
From: Hawaiian Heat <hheat@accessus.net>
Reply-To: Hawaiian Heat <hheat@accessus.net>
Subject: BS01 -- The Newlywed by Marlissa 2/4
Message-ID: <Pine.LNX.3.94.960919131851.20379C-100000@mtvernon1.accessus.net>
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BS-1-2.TXT -- (m/f, f/f, b&d, white slavery)
The following story contains adult material. If below the age of 18, go
outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).
If you ARE 18, then you should know the following story is about a young woman
who is forced into non-consensual sex, public humiliation, and b&d, in both m/f
and f/f situations. Both the characters and occurences in this series are
completely fictitious.
NOTE: Parker characters used with the permission of the author.
The Newlywed:
A Bangkok Slaver Story
by Marlissa
an225040@anon.penet.fi
Part 2/4
Footsteps broke the quiet and I closed the diary. It was Vopat. He seemed
pleased, his fat face jiggling at the sight of the drugged unconscious white
woman. "She look like good value Joe. Not blonde, but still o.k. Could be
good deal for you."
Like most all Asian men, Vopat thought all American women were buxom blonde
cheerleader types. Clearly that's what he had been expecting, but a redhead
was still exotically acceptable. I handcuffed the girl's hands behind her.
She moaned but was still deep in the stupor of the drug.
"Good deal, my ass. We're talking fifty thousand baht -- just like we said."
He just continued to smile, his hands on his belt now.
To be on the safe side, I gagged her as well, then threw the cuffs over a hook
hanging in the middle of the room. As the weight bit into her wrists, her eyes
jerked open with a start. Squinting, she tried to get a bearing on where she
was, her green eyes flashing confusion then fright as she recognized me.
"Ump, g'ump m'ump --"
Tam appeared from between acts in her trademark black bikini top, spandex
hotpants, three inch heels and holding her badge of authority -- the riding
crop. She didn't dance any more but kept discipline among Vopat's other girls.
Her open palm caught the pale cheek of Meganne Linsky's face like a typhoon
wave hits a shoreline. The pale girl began to shake in teary agony.
"Shut up bitch!" Tam ordered, with another palm raised. The girl shivered, but
stilled herself.
I tossed her passport, purse, wallet and jewelry on the table. Tam immediately
snatched up the two rings and slipping them on her two finger, showed them off
to Vopat.
"Pretty! For Tam?" she demanded.
Vopat shrugged and Meganne Linsky watched as the Thai whoretrainer took
possession of her wedding and engagement rings in impotent rage and fear. With
calculated spite, the Thai flashed the rings in the face of the American girl.
"Mine now bitch!" she hissed. Then she yanked off the crucifx as well, tossing
that on the floor.
Those green eyes were on me now and I wanted out. "All right, gimme my dough
-- fifty thousand, Vopat. I delivered the goods and I want my money."
The newlywed Meganne Linsky realized the goods I was referring to was in fact
her. She tried to scream, but the gag muffled her. She swung wildly from the
steel ceiling hook, kicking and crying. Vopat shook his bald head and Tam
swung back with her crop. It landed square on Meganne's ass and the squealing
intensified.
"First I inspect new property, Joe. Tam! Enough!"
Tam dropped the crop. The white girl was still again, only the sniffles
disturbing the fetid air of the dingy office.
"Strip the bitch so Joe can get his payment," Vopat ordered.
Tam bowed -- she knew Vopat's business voice well. She dropped to her knees
and unlaced Meganne's Reeboks, then proceeded to pull off her socks and Chic
jeans. Her long, shapely pale legs wanted to kick at Tam, but Meganne had
learned a taste of the price of such a move so she remained still.
"Joe -- what that mean?" Vopat snapped at Meganne's undergarment. The American
girl cringed at the touch but remained still.
I chuckled at the absurdity of it. He was referring to the little g-string she
was wearing. It was a dainty triangle of white silk with a red heart over the
center. On the heart was embroidered in cursive script "Only For My Hubby".
"It's for her wedding night Vopat. She just got married and she put it on as a
surprise for her husband on their honeymoon. She probably got it at her bridal
shower from one of her girlfriends, didn't you Meganne?"
She nodded, searching my eyes for any empathy. Her pleas hung silently in the
air. ****God, please get me out of here ****Please***Please***Please***
Please****
I turned back to the Thai. "Aren't you a romantic at all, Vopat? She's just
trying to be sexy for her new husband."
A thought occurred to him. "She virgin Joe? If she virgin -- that mean extra
for you!" His pudgy hands rubbed themselves in glee at the prospect.
I shook my head. When she had mentioned Boston College, visions of a nice
Catholic schoolgirl in a plaid skirt had filled my head too. But I knew it
wasn't so -- the birth control pills in her purse said otherwise. "No,
unfortunately I doubt you can find a twenty year old virgin in America anymore
Vopat. Still, you'll agree, she IS fresh." I caressed her pale, white cheek.
I noted that she tried to brush against my hand. Smart girl -- playing for
angles. She'd play to the American. Better him than the two Thais. She
wasn't an accounting major for nothing. Still, fifty thousand baht weighed
more heavily than the fake affections of a soon-to-be bargirl -- white or not.
I could buy lots of affection for the remaining twenty-five thousand baht I'd
have left over. It only cost five hundred baht a night for one girl -- and
hell, I'd bought a half dozen one drunken evening in Joytown.
Vopat nodded. "Fresh, yes. Maybe I call her Red. You like that name girlee?"
He stroked the girl's cheek now but she twisted away.
I backed away and Tam continued to strip the girl. Unzipping the wind breaker,
I was relieved to see a pair of ripe B cups staring back at me from underneath
a white Boston College t- shirt. Not huge but o.k. Vopat nodded, pleased. He
put a premium on big tits as most Thai girls weren't big up top. Luckily these
seem to pass muster.
"O.k.?"
Tam held up her hand. "First off shirt, then pay Vopat." He agreed and she
produced a knife, cutting away the fabric before Meganne's helpless eyes. The
brassiere matched her g- string, a white and red silk affair with frilly lacy
shoulder straps and a little red bow where the two cups met. Tam unclipped the
bow and the two cups parted.
Tam was wracked with laughter. Vopat turned red, staring at me. I swallowed
hard. Meganne looked away as the three of us focused on the two falsies on the
floor, then at her chest. I remembered the diary but had forgotten to manage
Vopat's expectations. Big mistake.
I waied -- the traditional Thai gesture to show respect. "Vopat, my apologies.
I had no idea."
Vopat remained impassive, a tight smile on his face.
"We can renegotiate, of course," I added, stating the obvious. I was desperate
now -- if he didn't want her, who would? And what would I do with Mrs. Meganne
Linsky? I doubted the Colonel would accept her in lieu of payment. As I
struggled to find a solution, Tam let her hands curl around the nude girl.
Cruelly, she tweaked the nipples on the girl's small nubby breasts. The
nipples hardened quickly in the cool air conditioned air and the breasts
swelled as much as they might under Tam's touch. They were slight mounds,
maybe AA cups at best. Training bra breasts of a thirteen year old -- not a
twenty year old college girl. "Are you a girlee or lady-boy? Huh?"
This seemed the most humiliating question that could have been posed to
Meganne, because she blushed a tropical red and began to cry. Not tears of
rage, but tears of utter humiliation. Idly, I wondered how many tears she had
shed over those two less-than-handfuls throughout her high school and college
years. How many dateless nights, how many cruel jibes from other girls and
boys...
Tam had inserted her hand underneath Meganne's wedding night panty and then
between her legs. From the way the Thai girl viciously twisted her wrist
underneath those panties and the horrified way Meganne's hips suddenly
circle-jerked, I could guess what Tam was doing. "Guess you a girlee
afterall!" Tam giggled again.
"Forty-five thousand," I offered in a conciliatory tone. Vopat stared at me
with that steely-hard smile and shook his head. No counter-offer was a bad
sign.
As we faced off, I rattled my brain cells to come up with a selling strategy.
I needed money. I needed it badly. And Vopat knew that. He had the
advantage, but he was still so pissed off at the loss of face that he wasn't
budging. It was then that I noticed what Tam was doing.
The brown-skinned Thai girl was playing with Meganne's tiny breasts in
fascination, tweaking the nipples with that feral grin of hers as Meganne
squirmed in agony. The helpless redhead tried to separate herself from her new
admirer in an impotent paroxysm of sways and shoves. I doubted that even if
she were being mauled by a man that way Meganne Linsky wouldn't have hated it
as much. But being fondled by another woman was too much. Tears were
cascading down those fine high-sculpted cheeks of hers. Tam just smiled and
licked Meganne's pink ears.
"I think maybe Tam has a new friend."
Vopat saw what I saw and grunted. "No care. No want."
Tam heard this and untwined herself from the suspended girl, to Meganne's
obvious relief. Her cold blue eyes grew luminescent in the cool backoffice as
she cuddled next to her employer and whispered in his ear. Vopat's angry smile
softened, chuckled, grew amused and finally laughed at his head girl's
suggestions. He patted her hotpanted backside and Tam withdrew to his side,
handing him a calculator.
It was the traditional Asian way of negotiating a price -- the calculator made
the offer. If the offer was refused, there was no loss of face. He was going
to negotiate. I had no idea why -- obviously something Tam had said. I didn't
care. My appointment with the Colonel was coming up. I sighed inwardly as he
punched in a number and handed it to me.
I took it. It read fifteen thousand. Not a great start. I shook my head
politely, punched in a new number, which he in turn refused and
counter-offered. We impassed at twenty-five thousand baht. Exactly the amount
of my debt -- as Vopat knew.
I looked at Meganne Linsky. Her own green eyes had darted from between me and
Vopat like an observer at a tennis match. They were wide and teary behind those
tortoise shells of hers. I remembered she had said she was an accounting major.
She had an inkling of what was going on, I was sure. What thoughts were
streaming through that captive brain of hers? That if she had waited six months
to graduate, that if she hadn't eloped, that this would never have happened to
her? How would she escape? Would ransom do it? How much would they want? In
the meantime, what would they do to her? And would her Donald even want her
back? Would she ever get back to her middle class college girl life again?
If I accepted Vopat's offer, I knew the answers to all those questions.
Especially the last one. New white female flesh was too valuable in this part
of the world to part for cash, despite Vopat's haggling and despite her less
than generous bust. But she would learn these answers herself over the next
few months -- slowly, probably painfully, but she would learn them. I knew
that because of two things -- Tam's evil, hungry smile and my nod, accepting
Vopat's offer.
Meganne moaned as we shook hands, sealing the deal.
With the handshake, Tam grinned like a Siamese cat and sauntered up to the
hanging, pantied white girl. Thai girls love white complexions -- the paler
the better -- and I could see Tam enviously examine Meganne's freckled, pale
skin. Then Tam's nose wrinkled in disgust and she pulled off Meganne's
glasses, flinging them down to the ground. Without looking down, Tam ground
the spectacles and smashed her spike heel through each lens. Meganne squinted
down at the smashed glass, anxiety washing over her again.
"Not pretty on new girl. Vopat, what new girls' name? Still 'Red'? Or that
no good now? I think no good now," Tam added slyly.
Vopat's big face turned without the neck seeming to move. "What name you like,
Tam?"
The Thai girl catily pulled on the white girl's breasts. "She flat... so why
not 'Flatsee'?"
Vopat shrugged. It was as good as any other. He chucked up Meganne's chin.
"You hear Tam? You name Flatsee from now on. You nod so I know you
understand."
Meganne's body flailed again in violent reaction to this. It was as if she had
been electrified with a shame too awful to swallow. Her long white legs swung
wildly -- even as Tam drew back her riding crop. Five brisk swings later,
Meganne shivered in surrender, her backside striped with crimson. Tam loosened
the gag. She looked up, her pretty face bathed in dumb amazement and flushed
pain.
"Vopat ask you if you know your new name. You say your new name," Tam
commanded.
Meganne's lips fluttered pitifully, all the while looking straight at me.
"F-flat-s-s-see." Tam grinned. Her newest girl had just accepted her
rechristening with hardly any effort.
Tam drew back the crop and Meganne began to cry. But the Thai girl merely
patted the pantied white girl's ass with it. "You be good girl now, Flatsee. I
train you to be very good bar girl. You make Vopat lots of dollars at
Candyland."
Meganne's lips tightened and then screamed. "God, nooooo! Please! Don't!
Anything! I'll pay! Any amount -- please!" She focused on me with her squinty
eyes. "God, you're an American! You can't leave me with them! Please -- I'll
do anything -- ANYTHING!!!!!!"
Involuntarily, my cock twitched up. Anything. I hesitated for a second and I
think -- I'm not sure -- that the hint of a grateful smile was beginning to
blossom on her wan, desperate face. But my palm was already out, collecting the
twenty-five thousand baht due me for my merchandise. And Tam had already
jammed the gag back over her mouth and wrenched the honeymoon g-string off.
Vopat smiled. "Twenty-five thousand baht," he declared. "You make Colonel
happy now?"
I looked at Mrs. Meganne Ryan Linsky as she was being trained by her new
mistress, Tam, Candyland's whoretrainer. Her legs were cuffed and Tam had
decided to break the new girl's spirit through a thorough cropping. Meganne's
long legs struggled to dance in the cuff bonds as stroke after stroke fell on
the smoothly curved naked backside. Tam relished her work as she repeated the
girl's new name over and over again.
"FLATSEE FLATSEE FLATSEE FLATSEE FLATSEE..."
As I watched the torrents of tears flow down the newlywed wife on her
honeymoon, I wondered how things had come to this state -- how I had come to
such a place where I was selling female flesh for a mere thousand US. And then
I remembered I had to go. I bowed to Vopat and he clapped my back.
"We do business again, I think, Joe." He seemed certain.
I wasn't and didn't reply. I looked back one last time. Tam was shaving the
girl's orangey-red mound as the shell shocked girl sniffled. She looked at me,
the look as audible to me as the most pathetic begging, searing into my memory
forever. It was the most despicable thing I'd ever done, but I didn't have
time to think about that now. I shrugged and turned. I had a date with a
colonel.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Tue, 17 Sep 1996 11:58:17 -0500 (CDT)
From: Hawaiian Heat <hheat@accessus.net>
Reply-To: Hawaiian Heat <hheat@accessus.net>
Subject: BS01 -- The Newlywed by Marlissa 3/4
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BS-1-3.TXT -- (m/f, f/f, b&d, white slavery)
The following story contains adult material. If below the age of 18, go
outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).
If you ARE 18, then you should know the following story is about a young woman
who is forced into non-consensual sex, public humiliation, and b&d, in both m/f
and f/f situations. Both the characters and occurences in this series are
completely fictitious.
NOTE: Parker characters used with the permission of the author.
The Newlywed:
A Bangkok Slaver Story
by Marlissa
an225040@anon.penet.fi
Part 3/4
Six months later.
Candyland is one of Joytown's favorite go-go bars. Say what you will of Vopat,
he knows his clientele -- mostly Western farangs, hardcore expats who like a
taste of home once in awhile. His bar certainly offered that.. It was a
Thai-version of an American soda shop from the Fifties, with counter stools
near the runway and booths situated around the floor, each sporting a jukebox
featuring top singles from the 50s on up. Poster images of Marilyn Monroe and
James Dean floated over the whole neon-lit joint, with college pennants strung
from end to end. The dusky bar girls were all done up in various Fifties- type
uniforms, with a multitude of cheerleaders, car hop girls, Catholic school
girls and Barbie-looking debutantes and prom queens in various states of
undress for the farang customers. In the back center of the bar stage was a
raised stage for "special" acts, surrounded by reserved tables. Probably some
animal act Vopat had cooked up. He and Tam were effective marketers -- there
was always a new act at Candyland that drew them in. And by Bangkok standards,
it was actually clean -- which meant it was just filthy, not unbearable. All
in all, a cheap trick, but one that went over big with the homesick expat who
wanted the illusion of banging their high school sweetheart.
I walked in dog tired. The bus ride from Zhou province had been brutal and
long. Exhaustion and failure combined to give me a powerful thirst for a
Kloster or six. I sat down in a back booth, eager to keep clear from view and
waved a girl for a Kloster.
I got a five foot Sandra Dee wannabee -- a Thai bleach-job in a pilling pink
polyester prom gown. She smiled. Cute. No more than sixteen. I felt in my
wallet and was ready to do the deal when a beefy German called her over. He
must have been a regular she could rely on because she waied in regret and
wiggled over. I sighed. I was having that kind of luck these days -- couldn't
even pick up a bar girl at Candyland.
And it wasn't my fault. The provincial Chinese governor had given me a license
to build the damn paper plant. Perfect location, cheap labor and all I needed
to do was put up the seed money and kick back thirty percent to him. Which I
did in good faith. How the hell was I supposed to know he would be on trial
for corruption charges five months later? The new governor gave me forty-eight
hours to get out of the province -- or else I would be put on trial as an
accomplice. My investment -- gone. Or not exactly my investment. Which I'm
sure the Colonel would like to speak to me about. I cursed the day I had told
him about the deal.
"Lots of potential. You would like a partner, no?" Hand still counting the
twenty-five thousand I had just paid up. "With no friends, Joe, you might find
trouble on Thai side, no?" His eyes hidden behind his mirror aviator
sunglasses, but boring into me just the same.
I nodded and took the twenty five, plus another seventy-five. "Necessary and
acceptable as you are a good risk, Joe," he insisted coolly and firmly.
As I sucked down the last of the Kloster, I wondered if he had heard the news.
Probably. And so his good business opinion of me was in doubt again.
"Another drink Sir?"
The voice was Western. I looked up. And saw what six months at Candyland had
done to the former newlywed and Boston College accounting major.
She had lost a little weight and her body looked harder, firmer than it had
been, but the cheer leading outfit was still a size too small. The blue
"Valley High" knit sweater with the megaphone had been altered -- the sleeves
removed and the bottom cut off to reveal a flat tummy midriff. The matching
blue and white flared miniskirt looked small and tight on her, but the effect
on her waist, hips and ass was marvelously constraining and figure-forming.
The bobby socks and saddle shoes were cute, giving the twenty year old the look
of a sixteen year old at most. She was even paler than when she had arrived.
I assumed she hadn't seen natural light in a very long time.
The illusion of innocence rapidly dissolved though when I looked at her face.
The short clever hair style had been replaced with a longer more unruly look.
Now the orange-red tresses were captured off to one side with a blue ribbon and
the ponytail hung down to the nape of her neck, adding a sulky dimension to her
teeny bopper looks. The nails were long now and painted a fire engine red,
though they were chipped as if she had no time to truly spend on them. The
thin lips were pursed in a fake smile, poutily tarted up with thick red
lipstick. But the eyes proved traitor to her. Those once-bright green eyes
were glassy, fearful and beckoning at once, as if all three emotions were
necessary to her continuing survival. Crowning her eyes were pencil-thin
brows, as forced and artificial as everything else about her appearance now.
As artificial as a blow-up sex doll. Why then was I getting a hard-on?
She didn't seem to recognize me. I assumed from the unfocused gaze that she was
kept doped up now. I nodded and she bowed and went to fetch my drink. As she
did, I watched her hip swiveling grind and knew it wasn't forced for me. It
was second nature to her to walk that way -- not a college girl gait, but a
provocative Thai bar girl strut. Tam's training had sunken in.
She returned, the false smile advertising her easy availability. "Would you buy
Flatsee a drink too, Sir?" It was half-request, half-whine. I threw down ten
baht and, looking over her shoulder at the bar tender, she nodded and giggled
to herself in relief. Another girl, this one done up like a dark Ellie-Mae in
checkered halter top and skin-tight jean cut-offs, brought Meganne a
half-filled glass of Coke, which she ignored.
"Should Flatsee dance for you Sir?" she asked in that desperate half-slavegirl,
half-seductress whine of hers. Taught to refer to herself in the third person
-- as an object. Tam was good, especially when her student was a hated Western
woman with more advantages in life than she could imagine.
I nodded, still silent. She hopped up on the booth table and wrapped her hands
around the dirty brass pole that rose from the base of the table to the dirty
rafters. Every table had one and they were being utilized extensively by most
of the bar girls not employed in other, more direct ways by the customers
underneath the tables.
I watched in fascination as she leered down at me mechanically and began loving
the pole. She did so with utter abandon, pressing her cheerleader sweater
against the pole, then rubbing each of the small nubs underneath against the
metal. With sultry ease, she whipped her hair as she did so, softly moaning
with each bump. She did this for about three or four minutes, then, sensing my
inevitable boredom, prepared for the next part of the act.
Biting her lower lip in an apologetic way, she drew her hands up to her blouse
and pulled it slowly off. Underneath were her two small breasts, pale and pert
with two hard red nipples pointing up at the neon tracklights on the ceiling.
She stood there, thrusting them out and bowing her head with a hurt look
expression. She did this for what must have been exactly a minute, not moving
or saying anything, allowing me to examine her in silence. Between the small
buds hung a cheap Buddha medallion looped on a string necklace.
"Shall Flatsee keep dancing for you or would you like another girl with bigger
tits, Sir?" She choked on the next to last word, her eyes still cloudy. I
nodded. She choked back a tear, but gathered herself and started to step down.
Part of her training no doubt.
Evidently she had thought I meant she wasn't acceptable, but I grabbed her
wrist and gently held her on the table. Her thin lips smiled in appreciation
and she began to gyrate again for me. Now she seemed happier and almost
playful, slipped her fingers behind her skirt waist with a naughty smile. I
could understand why she was so grateful. Most of the bar girls were like
lampreys -- difficult to get rid of once you bought them a drink. But Meganne
was trained to pose and please. It was easy to ditch her and get another if
you wanted -- she was trained to give you the easy out -- even invite it with
the humiliating question. She was probably sent away more times than kept.
Which made her grateful when she was allowed to stay.
The chipped nails of her delicate fingers dexterously unzipped the skirt and
stepped out of it, kicking off the shoes and bobby socks. Now the Fifties
facade was gone -- cheerleader no longer, she stood before me bare-chested
dirty dancing in her black cotton g-string. She yanked the crotch from front
and back, digging in between the plump lips of her smooth, shaven sex. The
long coltish legs wrapped around the pole and swung excitedly around. As she
did, I saw the tattoos on each asscheek. On one side -- "Flatsee," on the
other "Property of Candyland" in technicolor red lettering for all the world to
see, advertising her owner's establishment even as she blew passionate kisses
to me from her fuck poses off the brass pole.
I threw a ten baht down and she slunk off the pole excitedly, squinting down to
see it through the cigarette bar smoke.
"May Flatsee lap dance for you Sir?" she asked hopefully. It was odd to hear
the phrase uttered in such a well educated Western voice, especially since it
dripping with obvious longing. Lap dancing could cover a good chunk of her
quota for the night -- if she was very good and I was very generous.
I still was weirded out by the fact that she didn't recognize me. She couldn't
be that zoned out. But I didn't want to say anything that might ruin the
scene. If she did suddenly recognize me, she might go mental -- bar girls were
known to scratch your eyes out if you caused them to lose face. An odd concept
for Westerners to think a bar girl could lose face, but it was true. Yet in
Meganne's case, I doubted face was ever to be an issue. Tam had trained her
too well for pride ever to be a factor in her life again.
Candyland was getting busy, probably filling up for one of Vopat's famous stage
shows. "Little Red Corvette" pounded through the speakers as the girls danced
on stage in impossibly high heels. I watched a huge middle-aged Aussie in
field fatigues sit down and snap his fingers. A Cambodian hill girl looking no
older than fourteen wearing white Calvin Klein panties and bra scurried over in
five inch heels. She wanted to nuzzle on the big Aussie's lap, but he pushed
her to her knees, slipping a fifty baht note into the cup of her bra. I
watched as he patted her bobbing black haired head as she proceeded to pleasure
him orally. He caught my stare, raised his Foster's and saluted me. I nodded
and looked back at Meganne.
I twirled my fingers toward my lap and she appreciatively crept onto my lap,
spreading her legs wide and encircling my waist. Her pale face loomed close to
me in the dark now, only a foot away, licking her lips and anxious to show how
much this opportunity meant to her. Her eyes closed, she bucked her hips
against my stomach. I couldn't keep my hands from caressing that pale cheek
and she opened her eyes in astonishment. Foreplay was unheard of in Bangkok.
Then she was truly amazed.
"You."
That was all she said. but it was clear what her green eyes were reliving then.
Without her glasses, she couldn't see a thing. A lucky break really. It had
probably helped her survive the months of misery, of humiliation -- she could
seal herself off mentally from it all. She had been survived the breaking
down of Mrs. Meganne Ryan Linksy, proud new wife and future accountant, and the
building up of Flatsee, 500 baht bar whore.
But who had done it to her? Me.
Why then were her eyes filled with such hope and light?
"Mr. Jackson!" She tightened her grip around my waist with her long shapely
legs. "How are you...Sir?" she added quickly.
"Fine, uh,..." I stumbled, unsure how to address her. We both knew her real
name, and yet it seemed so inappropriate now. Like an old article of clothing
you no longer wear.
"Flatsee!" she finished brightly, blinking away another thought quickly. "You
were away...Mr. V said you were away."
I nodded. "Yeah. Upcountry."
She hugged me tightly, crushing her small bare breasts into my chest.
"Flatsee missed you so much. Flatsee thinks about you all the time." She
brushed her red ponytail back and placed her hands on my neck, massaging me.
She leaned forward, brushing her lips against my earlobe.
"Mr. Jackson, Sir?" she began tentatively, whispering conspiratorially.
This was it -- she was going to ask me to help her get out. "Yeah -- Flatsee?"
I responded roughly. I loved the feel of her lips so close. And the weight of
her hips on my lap was having a stimulating effect. Hell, maybe I would
help...
"You have lots of money." It was stated as a fact, not a question. Twenty-five
thousand baht, the amount I had received for her, probably seemed like all the
money in the world to her now. I wondered if she remembered the exchange rate
-- that the baht was twenty-five to one US dollar. That she had stripped bare
except for her g-string and was grinding her tits and pussy into me like I was
Rockefeller for a grand total of 20 baht -- less than a dollar. But in
Candyland, that was a nice sum -- she was happy to get it.
I just nodded, then added truthfully. "Actually, I had lots of money."
I don't know whether she heard me and just ignored me, or the crowding bar
hustle had drowned me out. the place was really filling up now. Or maybe I
hadn't wanted to be heard.
She continued cooing in my ear as she massaged my neck. "I remembered when
you... brought me, uh, Flatsee, here," she choked a bit, looked around to see
if anyone had caught her transgression and went on. "You liked me, I thought...
the way you looked at me." Her hands found mine and placed them firmly on her
hips.
I remained silent, unsure where she was going.
She licked her lips and began kissing my ears and neck as she whispered. "Maybe
you would like to have me for your own... just for you." She began raising her
hips gently and pressing them down, her hand reaching between my legs rubbing
my cock.
"What do you mean, Flatsee?" Her hand was working magic -- had she been able
to do this before Candyland?
"I could belong to you -- you could buy me from Mr. V!" She began to hump me
faster now, bobbing up and down on my lap, her head against mine. "I could
clean for you, cook -- anything you wanted. I've learned alot at Candyland,"
she promised breathily, "learned ways to make you happy!" She moaned -- fake,
but it excited me nevertheless.
My silence was making her nervous but she pressed on bravely. "I want to be
your girl, Mr. Jackson. You could buy me," she kissed my cheeks hotly.
"Why?"
She misunderstood my question. "I've been...trained. I could make you happy.
Anything," she insisted," you want, I can do now."
"No, no -- why do you want me to buy you?"
She bowed her head, green eyes looking at the other end of the bar. "I think
you would be kind to me -- maybe even let me be 'Meganne' again? If you
wanted, I could be like your w-w- wife even?"
My face tightened and she knew she had miscalculated. "Not like a real wife,
Mr. Jackson -- like a Thai minor wife at most. But I would be just for you --
you would be my only man."
I considered the idea. Putting the money issue aside -- I had none and would
be dead soon if I didn't get a lot of it -- I was intrigued. I wanted to hear
more. It didn't fit -- I had sold her into bar girl slavery. She should hate
me.
Her legs tightened around me and kept humping, frantically. "Mr. V would give
you a good deal on me -- he likes you. Maybe ten thousand baht?"
Four hundred bucks and I could buy outright Mrs. Meganne Ryan Linsky. Complete
with g-string and high heels. Five months upcountry made me laugh.
She humped harder now, lapping at my lips and neck. "Mr. V had me fixed, Mr.
Jackson -- no condoms necessary. My tubes were tied -- so, no....babies." She
tried to hide it, but I knew she had choked back a tear. "I'm clean too -- Mr.
V has all my papers from the doctor."
One of the reasons -- among many I can't get into (o.k., o.k. -- let's just say
I was with a certain US government agency at one point in my career, an
association which was terminated over a misunderstanding) -- that I came to
Bangkok was the women. The idea that a society accepted -- even gloried in --
the sexual submissiveness of it's women fascinated me. Instant gratification
with Thai girls was a given -- the opposite of the long chase that Western
women felt their due. Yet I could buy this one without even having to worry
about the minimal face Thai girls expected. Meganne had no expectations other
than to be treated like what she was -- a bar girl for hire. Being a house
girl would be a step up for her. Still, I couldn't believe she could be tamed
so much her natural hate could be contained...
"Uh, I know my breasts are small, but you could buy me a push-up bra," she
begged. "I could make them a size bigger!" She searched for anything she could
use now -- the bar was filling up and time was getting short. I wasn't
responding as she had hoped. "You know, D-donald knew my breasts -- uh, tits
-- were small -- but he TOLD me to wear the falsies!" She was near sobbing now
hysterically and I didn't know what she was talking about. "HE said he liked
me to have more of a figure, but he KNEW they were small! I wasn't trying to
fool him! I SWEAR TO GOD! He told me to wear the falsies!"
I imagined her chained up in my dingy hotel room. Probably wouldn't need to
chain her either -- where would she go? If a Thai girl had put herself on the
selling block so easily I would have been suspicious -- it was a well-known
scam to "sell" a girl who would clean you out two weeks later and disappear
upcountry. But there was no such danger with Meganne. She was lost in Bangkok
and wouldn't dare stray -- the alternatives were just too scary for a girl like
her, not without knowing any of the language. And I was sure Vopat and Tam
hadn't allowed her to learn any. Still, I shook my head. "Look, honey, I
travel too lightly to keep a pet."
Suddenly Meganne was yanked back out of my lap by her red ponytail. She fell
to the floor at my feet with a sick look, pale face creased in dismay. Tam was
holding the ponytail like a leash and pulled up brusquely. "You be bad girl --
very bad girl Flatsee. You bother Mr. Jackson."
Flatsee stood up, tears trickling down her wan cheeks. "Yes, Mistress."
Mistress? So Tam had been watching s&m flicks. She had to be in her glory as
she stood over the trembling young American woman -- no Thai girl would allow
herself to be treated that way by another Thai girl. Tam swatted her backside
with her handy crop. "Get ready for show now -- I punish later."
Without a second look, Flatsee gathered her cheerleading outfit and scampered
backstage. I watched her tattoos jiggle as her hips did that bar girl grind
across the room. Several male hands slapped her ass and she smiled brightly in
counterfeit glee with each grope.
"She does an act -- she good little actress -- you stay, Joe, you see," Tam
promised smoothly. She pushed a Klosters in front of me. "Vopat come see you
now. Go to reserved table number one." With that she disappeared backstage.
As I approached the table near the stage I knew who the fat hand covered with
jeweled rings belonged to and I shook it. Vopat liked to shake hands so you
could see his rings.
"Good to see you Joe. You been upcountry? Away too long." He lit a cigarillo
and puffed importantly.
I took a draw on the Klosters. "Yeah -- upcountry."
He wrapped his fingers together, gold, gems and fat brown fingers all pressed
together. "Paper -- not a, ah, how you say...commodity...worthy of your
talents, Joe."
So he knew. And so would everyone else in Joytown. Fucking great. "Guess not,
Vopat. Too late now though."
His eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Not too late -- as long as man have talent,
he never go hungry or cold."
I shrugged. "My talent is in losing Colonel Chao's money, Vopat -- not a
useful talent, is it?"
The Thai deal-smile spread over his face, as if this was exactly the route he
wished out conversation to take. "Ah, true that talent not so good -- but
another talent you have I think! You see Flatsee? I see she dance for you."
I nodded uncomfortably. "Ever any trouble on that score?"
Vopat scoffed, waving a jeweled hand at me as if I had made a joke. "You know
that world end at Joytown's entrance. Embassy post a flyer, pale American man
heard ask questions at police station -- sad man I think." Vopat puffed his
effeminate cigarillo philosophically. "So sad, but soon he leave. Get a bar
girl at Lollipop's and have good time. I think he forget her -- bar girl tell
me he afraid he blamed for her disappearance, so he no tell anyone. Say
family, police would get mad at him -- but it no him fault. So he get drunk
and fuck many bar girls and leave Bangkok. Happy man again -- say he have good
time, come back soon."
I shivered. It was too easy to disappear in Bangkok and so many people did.
It looked like Meganne Linsky had just been de facto divorced, the marriage
just a bad memory now. After reading the diary, it sounded like old Donny-boy
wouldn't be asking any embarrassing questions and the whole thing would be
quickly forgotten. He had done his duty and she was an adult -- maybe she had
left him? he might conjecture. And no one even knew they were married except
for a clerk in Revere, Massachusetts. The whole thing was a bad memory to him
by now -- one that would become a bar story in a few short years with buddies
about some loony gold-digger who had ditched him in Bangkok.
"So Joe -- what you do now -- I have idea for you." His black cockroach eyes
looked hungry for something. I had an idea what he was after, but wasn't so
sure I wanted to get it for him.
I drank my Klosters. "I dunno. Talk to the Colonel about settling my debts I
suppose."
"Much money hard to come by in Bangkok," he pointed out unnecessarily. "Maybe
one way to make it though."
"How?" I asked, knowing the answer.
He rolled the cigarillo between his plump, brown fingers. "Do what you do
best, Joe. Get girls. Get girls for me. Only way for you to pay Colonel, you
know."
I wondered if Vopat and the Colonel sat discussing my financial obligations in
between Vopat's lounge acts and the Colonel's interrogations. I didn't want to
get back into the game -- Meganne Ryan's face haunted me.
"Why white girls, Vo?" I asked, avoiding the decision. "What not Thai girls
who want the money? Buy one out for a year -- it would cost you less money."
He shook his head regretfully. "Thai girls good for some. But other customers
want more spirit. Like to see white girls on their knees -- especially
Japanese. You always get good girls, Joe. Get me some. I pay well."
I closed my eyes. "No -- I'm legit now. No more slaving."
He shook my arm gently. "You get money -- pay Colonel -- go legit? O.k.? See
-- no problem!" Vopat took the cigarillo out of his flabby mouth. "Either
that or Colonel be very mad I think when you no have money. You see I tell him
about our deal -- he expect money now." The smile on his face was positively
serpent-like.
That was it. I opened my eyes again. It had been a decent try. "What do you
want, Vopat?"
He nodded, happy to get to the details of his business. "I do big business
with Tam's ideas -- you see soon what I mean. She suggest two girls for act --
lezzie girl-girl. One girl teach other girl how to be lezzie. If student girl
not learn, she get punished -- part of act that she be punished."
"Go on," I ordered coldly. Vopat's 'acts' were real. One girl would be
whipping the hell out of another girl. He was nauseating me.
The fat man continued. "Young too, but one older. Not much. Say two-three
years older than the other."
"How young?"
His slit-smile now. "Youngest one say... eleven. Older one say thirteen,
fourteen."
I rose to go, but he pulled me down. "Joe -- good, good money for such special
merchandise! I promise! Hundred thousand baht!"
"Eighteen," I countered. "The youngest is Eighteen."
"Fourteen," he spat back.
"Fifteen. No younger." It wasn't great, but it was the best I was going to
get.
He nodded, pleased. Like any Thai, he was an accomplished negotiator.
Suddenly I wished I had started at nineteen and gone down to sixteen. I had
just taken away a year of some kid's life. "Description?"
He considered. "English-speaking -- English, Aussie, Canadian or American is
o.k. Light hair good. Pretty and thin of course. Must be virgin -- at least
youngest one. Oh -- and one more thing..."
I shook my head, already trying to figure out how to pull off what he was
asking. "What now?"
"Sisters. I want them to be sisters." He rose as I started to protest. "Act
coming up -- you watch and think -- we talk later. I have to work now." He
trotted off backstage as the remaining dancing girls were hustled off the
stage. I couldn't have had a better seat for the show, whatever it was. There
were plenty of spectators too -- hardcores who were normally jaded by even the
animal acts were packing the place. My curiosity shot up a notch when the
music came on. Mendelsohn's Wedding March.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Tue, 17 Sep 1996 11:58:47 -0500 (CDT)
From: Hawaiian Heat <hheat@accessus.net>
Reply-To: Hawaiian Heat <hheat@accessus.net>
Subject: BS01 -- The Newlywed by Marlissa 4/4
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BS-1-4.TXT -- (m/f, f/f, b&d, white slavery)
The following story contains adult material. If below the age of 18, go
outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).
If you ARE 18, then you should know the following story is about a young woman
who is forced into non-consensual sex, public humiliation, and b&d, in both m/f
and f/f situations. Both the characters and occurences in this series are
completely fictitious.
NOTE: Parker characters used with the permission of the author.
The Newlywed:
A Bangkok Slaver Story
by Marlissa
an225040@anon.penet.fi
Part 4/4
>From backstage, Vopat emcee'd and narrated. "Gentlemen -- the nightly
Candyland exclusive show you have been waiting for -- the Newlywed's Surprise!"
The lights went out except for the stage and I was glad for the darkness. At
first, the stage was empty except for a brass four poster bed, made up with
white sheets and trimmed with lace. Then Tam walked out stage-left, decked out
in a tuxedo and her long hair hidden under a tophat, a fake mustache
greasepainted on her hard, cat-like face. Some laughs from the audience as she
winked back at them.
The groom.
Behind her from stage-right, a woman minced out in a flowing white wedding
dress, a cascade of lace and frills. A veil hide her face, but the combed out
red hair told me it was Meganne. Some catcalls now
The bride.
As the last strains of the Wedding March recording faded, Tam met her bride and
lifted the veil. Meganne's face beamed back at her and the audience. The
whorish look of earlier was gone -- her face was made up normally, even
demurely. For a minute she looked like the girl I had met at the airport six
months ago, only with as ecstatic smile as she could ever have. Then I saw the
fear behind the eyes, the plea for mercy behind the tight, unhappy smile.
Tam drew her close and gave her a passionate kiss, which Meganne dutifully
returned with equal, if insincere, lust. Tam's hand fondled the white-laced
backside and gave her bride an urgent slap on the ass.
"Strip for me wifey!" she snapped. The crowd was quiet, focused on the next
part.
"Yes, hubby!" Meganne simpered. She faced the audience, slipping her hands
behind her and unhooked the dress, beginning to strip for the real masters
seated in the dark crowd. It was done quickly and the dress floated off down
and down those long, creamy legs. She stood wearing a little g-string of white
silk with a red heart over the center. I could read the script over the heart.
It read "Only For My Hubby". The matching bra was white silk with red cups --
cups which were filled with more than I knew Meganne actually had. It was the
same lingerie she had worn when I had deposited her on Vopat's office floor six
months ago. Her wedding night frillies.
Tam stepped behind her and began fondling her in front of the audience. She
pressed her fake mustached lips against her pale neck and let her hands wander
all over the white girl's body, snapping her g-string teasingly. Meganne
closed her eyes and played along, bucking her ass against her 'husband's'
midsection and moaning lustily whenever Yam's hands squeezed her pale flesh.
Then Tam's hands toyed with Meganne's bra'd breasts, weighing them
appreciatively in each hand and leering at the audience, as if to show them
off. The audience played along, calling up "Nice tits on your wife" and "Not
bad." Tam gripped them possessively, the proud husband showing off his hot new
little wife. Meganne helped by thrusting out her chest like a slut who is
equally proud to belong to such a stud. But her smile was sick with obvious
worry as Tam unsnapped the bra and the falsies spilled out.
It was Tam's Charlie Chaplin-like reaction that put the crowd in stitches.
First the confused shaking of the head, then the comical prodding and poking of
the small breasts themselves pulling them up by the nipples to see if they had
deflated somehow, then finally the impotent fury as she stomped around and of
the stage shaking her fists, swinging Meganne's little lace bra around like a
lasso. From her pantomime, she wanted us to know she had been tricked. And
was furious about it.
Meganne hid her breasts coquettishly and appealed to the audience for sympathy.
She gave us a pouty smile and licked her lips, spreading her legs and spinning
around, as if to say "tits aren't ALL I have, you know." Someone in the
audience began the chanting which soon filled Candyland.
"TINY TITS! TINY TITS! TINY TITS! TINY TITS!"
Frustration, then shame, both genuine, painted her in a ruby blush as she
turned her back on us and crawled onto the bed, hiding unsuccessfully from her
embarrassment. I had to hand it to Tam -- she was brilliant. She had found
the hot button with her white slavegirl that sent her absolutely hurtling to
Humiliation Central, night after night, performance after performance. It was
Meganne Ryan's worst nightmare come true three times a night, 365 days a year
-- a crowd of jeering men making fun of her least sexy attribute. Her entire
being judged only on the basis of her cup size and the verdict always guilty.
Tam stomped back on stage now, in an ugly mood. The scenario of the enraged
Thai husband who had been tricked by a new wife and lost much face logically
demanded a harsh conclusion. Tam was prepared. She held up two new toys to
the audience -- a bamboo switch and a pair of police handcuffs. The audience
roared its approval. Meganne looked up and bit her lip sadly in deep despair.
"Bad wifey -- need punishment, yes?" Tam asked the audience.
"YESSSSSS!!!!!" came back the drunken, unanimous clamor.
"Up wifey -- or it be worse!" Tam declared
Meganne rose unsteadily for her Thai 'man' then threw herself at Tam's feet,
begging for mercy. She rubbed her pretty pale cheeks against Tam's shoes in
complete hopelessness and the Thai gripped her red hair and yanked her up
brutally. With efficiency borne of nightly repetition, Tam clipped the shiny
cuffs through the brass foot railing and on the thin white wrists. Meganne
stood bent over the bedframe, her legs spread and ass prepared for her just
punishment. Despite her tiny tits, I doubt there was a man there who wouldn't
have wanted a go at her in that position. My own cock was rockhard.
Tam played with the bamboo switch, considering. "You bad, bad girl to fool
your husband that way! Thirty switchings -- ten for each of your little girl
titties and ten for being a lying little whore!" The audience indicated its
agreement with a collective chuckle and Tam nodded. The first five brought the
expected tears, but after that the singing bamboo propelled Meganne into
hellish pain. She screeched, she begged, she whined, she cursed, her long legs
dancing with each new red addition to her rosy ass -- all of it bringing the
audience to new heights of amused laughter. Bamboo was indecently perfect for
the act -- it didn't leave marks, but was like a hot steel whip the way Tam
wielded it. The Thai heartily called out each lash till she reached thirty,
then dropped the bamboo.
The crowd quieted now and Meganne's raw, tear-stained face looked up in relief.
Tam grinned back. "Now my bride, I have surprise for you!" With that she
doffed her tophat letting all her black hair flow down, revealing her
not-too-secret femininity.
It was Meganne's turn for theatrical shock, as Tam continued to strip down,
yanking off her tuxedo trousers to reveal a huge wooden strap-on
dildo...pointed straight for Meganne's ass. The laughter rose again like a wave
as the white girl struggled against her cuffs to escape the oncoming dildo.
Tam gripped Meganne's slim hips and positioned the cock for penetration of her
tighter, less-used orifice, pulling the g-string off. "You the wifey and me
the husband -- you must make your husband happy on wedding night, yes?" she
asked her supporters in the audience. We murmured our agreement with this then
watched as Tam entered her wife from behind and the redhead's eyes bulge out
scarily. Swallowing deeply, Meganne took the wooden ram within her at last and
begin gasping as Tam started to pump her ass with the evil implement, with
steadily increasing fervor.
After a minute, Tam leaned down and whispered something harshly into Meganne's
ear. The effect was instantaneous. Meganne cringed, concentrated and
transformed herself from scared girl in agony to hot, animated lover. As the
thick wooden rod entered her, she bucked in physical exultation, sighing with
building lust. She began to shake her ass back to better meet Tam's thrusts,
like a slut in heat. "Uh, I love you long time husband! I love you long
time!" Meganne cried. Tam nodded catlike at the prone girl, in pleasure at her
newly charged performance, and continued to pound away at her, taking delight
in each and every painful prodding.
>From backstage, the Wedding March began booming again and the curtain drew
over the scene of demented honeymoon bliss. Amid scattered applause, Vopat
announced the night's second performance of the "Newlywed's Surprise" at eleven
p.m.
Now I knew why Meganne felt I was a preferable owner to Vopat. Anything was
better than this three times a night. Even being a sex slave to the man who
had stolen your life away from you on your wedding night at the age of twenty.
In a minute Candyland's owner was puffing on a new cigarillo, sitting beside me
with two Klosters. "So, you like show?" he asked in a self-congratulatory way.
He knew he had a good thing going.
"Very...unique," was as far as I was going to give him.
He nodded, taking this as a yes. "You think about my offer?" he pushed.
I had. "I'll do it. Under two conditions." He waited, puffing.
"First, sisters are hard to do. They rarely travel alone at that age and it is
too dangerous to have parents asking questions."
Vopat nodded, not pleased, but comprehending the difficulties. "So, what you
propose?"
I sipped my Klosters. "Mother and daughter."
Vopat's face brightened. "Almost as good! Same description as before. Mother
no older than," he plucked a reasonable number out of the air, "thirty-six.
And," his voice screwed down hard, "daughter no old than fifteen. Good age to
learn lezzie stuff."
I started to protest, but he was immovable. I nodded.
"Next as payment -- same money but I want something else too." He waited
again, silently puffing.
"I want Flatsee. In a push-up bra, panties and high heels waiting for me upon
delivery of the goods."
His fingers danced in the air as he figured an invisible equation. "O.k.," he
decided, "Flatsee act get old -- new mother-daughter lezzie act bring fresh
interest. Agreed." He toasted me with his Klosters and stood up. As did I.
I had a lot of work to do.
******
Six months later.
Candyland as crowded as ever at five minutes of eleven. Vopat gave me that fat,
oily grin of his as he raced backstage to prepare for the next act. I reached
beneath the table and patted Meganne on the head. Tam had taught her how to be
a most excellent little cocksucker and she was deepthroating me right now. My
cock stiffened and she mouthed it greedily in eager anticipation. At least she
acted eager -- which was all I cared about. Then the explosion, the cum
shooting, filing her pretty pale cheeks. She gave a muffled squeal, then began
swallowing the thick creamy stuff in noisy gulps.
Even if her mouth hadn't been stuffed with my cock, she couldn't have done more
than squeal. I reached down and fingered the locked dog collar she always wore
now round her neck -- the one I had made for her not long after I had acquired
her. It was an altered version of a product I'd seen advertised on an American
infomercial -- for apartment owners with noisy dogs. The "HushDoggy Collar"
emitted a shock whenever a dog started to bark. Meganne's was a special job
done for me by an electronics warfare specialist with the Thai military. It
was activated whenever she tried to do more than moan, pant, squeal or whine --
the main ways she communicated with me now.
She hadn't spoken a word in five months now. What a wonderful invention. It
focused her on her only important duty -- being a perfectly pleasing fucktoy.
As she was demonstrating now, she had far more important things to do with that
pretty mouth of her's than bother me with complicated thoughts and feelings.
Not that she had any to bother with. Her ambitions were pretty much limited
with getting me off, obeying me utterly, and getting herself off -- in that
order.
I didn't even think it was an act anymore, as it certainly had been when she
had been dancing at Candyland. The small amount of attention I paid her,
combined with the fact that I had allowed her to assume her old name again, was
more kindness than she had ever expected to enjoy again. The love and
appreciation she bore for me her master was touching. She now wettened at my
touch and upon hearing me utter certain commands to her. After a year's worth
of the most humiliatingly thorough sexual training -- lap dancing, cocksucking,
taking it up the ass, and getting her pussy filled on an almost continuous
basis -- Meganne had become the perfect slut.
I almost regretted selling her.
The crowd was boisterous tonight. The show was good, as were all Vopat's shows
-- a lezzie dildo and riding crop number performed by two Brits. Vopat had
bought them from me -- the mother-daughter act we had agreed upon. Damn he had
seen the potential there -- the place was packed. He was, after all, the
Steven Spielberg of Bangkok's exotic sex shows -- as good as any of his
colleagues back in the States.
I thought idly of Pussywillows, the famous strip club chain -- 'staffed' with
the hottest talent white slavers could provide. Or the El Maiciea down Mexico
way, known for it's animal acts and the pretty gringo girls who performed in
them. It was amazing how many establishments like them that existed around the
world. And the slavers who kept them stocked with firm young flesh. There was
Mistress Angela for one. She could break the stubbornest feminist college
girls into compliant little bar whores or train the most recalcitrant wifeys
into the sluttiest sextoys. Then there was Smedley, the society slaver who
turned boys into girls for the elite. Or Constantine and his Guardians who
provided the same service for the international petrodollar circuit, filling
harems with feminized faux girls. And all of it happened every day right under
the noses of square johns who couldn't conceive of a world where men and women,
girls and boys were bought and sold, broken and trained to please.
The two women -- mother and her teen daughter -- were climbing onto a table
preparing to 69 for the crowd's amusement. Both were damp with sweat -- the
act was hard work -- and their faces twisted in half-disgust, half-hunger in
anticipation of the next stage of the act. Tam stood by, tapping her palm with
her crop, then patted each female's bar ass, coaxing them roughly. The
over-sexed slave mother and daughter heeded their mistress at once. They
plunged their faces into each other's pink hairless crevices and began to suck.
I sipped my beer, ignoring the tender scene, thinking about my newest deal. I
would go legit again or try to. An opportunity had arisen upcountry and I
needed to get away from slaving for awhile. It was gun-running, one of my old
talents, for a drug lord in the north country. All I needed was a stake and
there were AK-47s waiting for sale in Chang Mai which were mine- - a shipment
which upon delivery would fetch double the original purchase amount. And that
stake was almost mine -- traveling first class.
I smiled. All it had taken was a phone call -- and fifty thousand US was
headed my way. Just a phone call -- because my instincts had been right.
A long distance call. To Revere Massachusetts.
The clerk checked and couldn't find the marriage on record. Never took place.
Could I be mistaken? Yes -- I must have been, I answered.
Then a call to Boston. Collect to Cosmopolitan Fire Surety. >From Meganne Ryan
to Donald Linsky.
First, the blow off. Then, as I supplied details, he cracked. Relief, then
anger as I told him about the revelations from the diary. He didn't believe me
about how well Meganne behaved now though. So I took some snapshots of my pet
slut. Told her to pose real sexy for me -- so I could show off my 'girlfriend'
to other guys in Bangkok. That got her to put her all into it. She couldn't
shove that dildo up her ass fast enough for me when she thought I might have
started thinking about her as my girlfriend -- as opposed to my personal puppy
whore. All the pics and some faxes of the diary convinced him. Would he agree
to a price? A day later the answer. Yes. If I could help him ship her back,
he had prepared a wonderful new home for her in his basement -- complete with
lots of training equipment where he could continue taming the gold- digging
little tramp. His words -- not mine.
And so I sit waiting, sipping on my Kloster's, Meganne fitful under the table
now. But she won't have to wait long -- the 10:35 United from LA was almost
always on time.
THE END
I hope you liked THE NEWLYWED: A BANGKOK SLAVER STORY.
Comments always appreciated! Send them to an225040@anon.penet.fi