"Yes, please, Ajarn! It is what I need." Sincerity rang in his reply.
I thought for a moment. Then I spoke to him in a very different tone. "Very well. Meet me at the Palace Hotel at seven this evening. Room 822." It has been years since I actively practiced my – profession? hobby? vocation? – here, but I still keep a room reserved in a nondescript but comfortable hotel near the bar. Just in case.
"Thank you, Ajarn. Thank you!"
"Be prompt. You don't want to make me angry."
"No, I'll be on time."
"And bring along with you whatever it is you want me to beat you with." I sensed a story here, some past complexity in his life that needed unraveling. Plus, I knew it would ignite his desire to fever pitch, to admit, by handing me the instrument, that he craved punishment at my hand.
I heard him swallow his nervousness. "Yes. I will. Thank you, Ajarn."
"Save your gratitude for after I've worked on you." I hung up, abruptly, before the sympathy could creep into my voice, and headed home to shower and change.
I dressed with special care that evening. I decided to exchange my usual tuxedo for a fitted suit of fine gray linen, superficially respectable but with a skirt split to mid-thigh. Underneath, I wore a black satin waist-cincher, whose garters held my old fashioned, back-seamed stockings. I left my pussy bare. Nothing like a full-lipped, mature, well-thatched cunt to intimidate a man.
I was amused to realize, as I climbed onto the Skytrain, that I was dripping in anticipation. Indeed, it had been a long time since I had played my real self. And I did feel some affection for Apichat, despite his belonging, officially, to the enemy establishment.
I planned to check in at the bar, then go over to the hotel. Probably I'd be done by ten; after all, how much abuse could a novice like Achichat take?
It occurred to me, briefly, that meeting a man in an anonymous hotel room might have its dangers. What if, despite appearances, Colonel Apichat had something to do with the murders?
Then I shook my head to clear away these ridiculous notions. I was at least a dozen centimeters taller than Apichat, and probably weighed ten kilos more. I could take care of myself.
I felt decidedly cheerful when I arrived at The Academy.
Chapter Six
As soon as she got to the bar, Ajarn told us all about Toy and her mother. I was very relieved. I decided to go to the wat on my next day off and make an offering of thanks. I also promised myself that I wouldn't bully Toy so much when she returned from upcountry. Though sometimes it's hard to resist the temptation.
It was Saturday night, very busy. Ajarn left a few minutes after she arrived. To take care of some business, she said. Daeng made me dance more often than usual, because some Australian guy bought Lin out of the bar right away. I didn't mind; dancing kept me from thinking too much. And I really didn't feel like talking to the customers.
I was wearing what I think of as my cat woman costume. It's just a bunch of soft black leather straps, slinking around my chest, my belly, and between my legs. Lots of skin showing between them. The straps are studded with steel nail heads and hung with heavy chains. I have elbow-length black gloves with sharp fake nails painted silver, and boots of matching leather that show off the white skin of my thighs. Oh, and a mask of black satin that hides my eyes but focuses your attention on my lips, which I paint the color of blood.
The outfit is very cruel-looking, and very sexy. As I swayed and shook on the stage, the chains swung against my nipples, teasing them into hard little knots. The strips of leather between my legs teased too. Every time I shifted my weight from one foot to another, the leather rubbed against my pussy lips, until my sex was swollen and pulsing with excitement. Of course, that's what I like, when I'm dancing.
I was beginning to feel like my usual self, powerful and in control. Then I saw the blond farang slip through the curtains at the entrance to the bar.
My legs turned to rubber. I grabbed one of the poles that surround my pedestal to keep myself from stumbling. He saw me right away.
From the other side of the room, his eyes locked onto mine. I wanted to look away, but somehow that was impossible.
Heat and cold rippled through my body in alternating waves. As he strolled towards me, I gasped for breath, as though I was suffocating. When he sat down on one of the stools at the foot of the stage, I was overcome with dizziness. I thought I would faint, and would have been glad to, if I could escape those awful, knowing eyes.
He grasped my ankle in one hand. I felt the chill of his touch even through the boot leather. He beckoned to me. I sank onto my haunches in front of him, unable to resist.
"Tonight is the night, Nok," he said. His voice was soft, but I could hear every word above the blare of the music. Nu was playing the Rolling Stones, "Under My Thumb".
"Tonight I'll take you out of the bar. If you're willing, of course." He smiled a peculiar half-smile. I wanted to die from embarrassment.
He knew the effect he had on me. He knew that my pussy juices were soaking into the leather between my thighs. Knew that I was haunted by the memory of his eyes, his lips, and his teeth. He reached up and tugged on one of the chains dangling around my breasts. It felt as though the chain was threaded through my nipple. Piercing my flesh. I imagined it that way, felt intense pleasure and a ghost of pain. The farang's smile grew broader, as if he could read my thoughts.
"So, Nok, what do you say? Will you come with me?" I nodded, unable to choke out a word, either of agreement or of protest. He released my ankle, and rose gracefully from his stool. With one cool finger he traced the shape of my lips.
"Hurry up and finish your set, then. I'll go pay the bar fine. Six hundred baht, right?"
I nodded again. Finally he took his eyes off me and walked over to talk to Daeng. I could breathe again.
When the last song ended, I raced upstairs to my locker, peeled off my costume, and threw on a pair of jeans shorts and tank top. For a minute, I wished that I had something more elegant to wear. Then I realized that he didn't care about my clothes. They didn't exist for him. All he could see was my nakedness.
I made sure my phone was in one pocket and my wallet in the other, and that the padlock protecting the costumes in my locker was secure. I stopped long enough to repair my make-up. There was a blood-colored smudge beside my mouth from his exploring fingers. Then I slipped into high-heeled sandals and made my way back down the bar, a little shaky.
My heart was pounding so hard that it hurt. I really didn't know if I was feeling excitement, or terror.
Chapter Seven
Apichat was prompt, as I had expected. At precisely seven PM, I heard a hesitant knock. I had positioned myself in the armchair, facing the entrance. "Come in," I ordered, speaking in English. Slowly, the door to the room swung open. Apichat hovered uncertainly on the threshold.
"Come inside," I said, adding a sharp note to my voice. "Do you want the whole world to see you?" The wiry Thai hastened to enter and shut the door behind him, then stood across the room from me, unable to take a step. I held his gaze, watching his dusky skin darken further with a blush.
The police colonel was casually dressed, in a nicely-ironed sport shirt and khaki trousers. His hair was damp and slicked back from his forehead. His face displayed a complex mixture of emotions: confusion, fear, embarrassment, and definitely, arousal. His hands were clenched into fists, but the tent in his groin told me how much he wanted to be here, regardless of how difficult it might be for him to admit it.
I rose from the chair, allowing him to appreciate the full effect of my height. "Come here." My voice was soft but implacable: steel wrapped in velvet. Overcoming his hesitation, he crossed the few meters of carpet to stand before me. I was touched to observe that he was actually shaking.
"Remove your clothing." Anger flashed briefly across his face at this improper suggestion, but then his features relaxed. He began to unbutton his shirt, slowly but deliberately.
"Hurry up. Do you think that I have
all night to spend with you?"
"No, Ajarn." He moved more quickly, but still, it seemed to take an excruciatingly long time. I found that my own excitement was making me impatient. I considered stepping forward and tearing the clothes off his back.
My intuition told me, though, that force was the wrong approach. He might want me to strip him, to relieve him of the responsibility. But what he needed was to admit to himself his desperate desire to submit. Undressing was the first step toward that admission.
Finally he stood naked in front of me, his eyes cast down to the carpet. He was not at all unattractive. There was not one ounce of excess fat on his frame. His walnut-toned skin was smooth and mostly hairless, except for a coarse-looking tangle at his crotch. Cords of muscle shifted underneath that skin, not the overblown muscles of someone who spends his days in the gym but a weathered strength born of years on the streets. I noticed a raised, pinkish scar on his shoulder, and another slashed across his thigh. Colonel Apichat was not the sort to take a desk job.
His cock hardened under my gaze. Reflexively, his hands fluttered down to shield his crotch from view.
"No!"
At my command, he immediately dropped his hands back to his sides. His fingers were only half-fists now. "I want to look at you. You're quite a pretty picture, Colonel, with your swollen penis and erect little nipples, just begging to be abused."
Apichat swallowed, and raised his eyes to mine. I saw naked longing there, desire so pure that my own body shimmered with lust in response.
"That is what you want, isn't it? For me to abuse you? Beat you, use you, make you my slave and my toy?"
Slowly, the veteran policeman nodded.
"Speak up. Tell me what you want."
Apichat's eyes glittered, as if tears gathered there. "Ajarn. I want – I want to be your slave. I want you to do whatever you want with me. To make me do things."
"Do things? What kind of things?"
He swallowed, then steeled himself to continue. "Dirty things. Nasty things. Whatever – whatever you want."
I wondered what I should do next. Should I circle him, towering over him, breathing hot on his neck and whispering lewd ideas in his ear? Should I tie him to the bed and bring out the dildos I had packed in my bag? Should I make him kneel in front of my chair and eat me?
Making a slave kneel is always a good idea, I decided. "On your knees, then." The sight of his nut-brown body on the carpet stirred me more than I would have expected. My cunt was dripping, and my clit felt as huge as his cock.
I was definitely overdressed. Turning my back on Apichat, I unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it. I couldn't see his reaction, but his gasp was loud and clear. My bare buttocks jiggled as I strolled over and draped the skirt over the desk chair. His gaze was as palpable as a caress.
I turned to face him, giving him an eyeful of my wild cunt curls and the ruddy flesh protruding from that forest. He licked his lips, never taking his eyes from my body. Now I began to unbutton my jacket, pausing occasionally for dramatic effect. Apichat's eyes followed my every move.
I relished the horror I saw in those eyes when I bared my torso and he caught sight of my breast, my scar, and my tattoo. Fear is a critical ingredient in the emotional mix of a scene.
When the pity and terror in his face melted into pure, potent lust, I had to hide my jubilation. I might finally have found someone who could appreciate me.
Chapter Eight
The farang – Sam – was waiting for me outside the bar. He took my arm, the same way he did on the first night. Firmly, as if he thought I would run away. In fact, I was glad, not only for his touch, but for the support. Without leaning on him, I might not be have been able to walk the short distance to the Palace Hotel.
I hated feeling this way. This was not me, this silly weak girl who couldn't stand on her own two feet. Who couldn't say no. Men think that all Asian women are their slaves, but I am used to being the one in control.
But I also loved feeling this way. My nipples ached underneath my shirt. One was still bruised from his bite two nights ago. I knew he could see them, pushing out the stretchy material. Between my legs, my shorts were soaked. They became wetter with each step I took. I kept my eyes on the uneven pavement, trying to keep my balance. He gripped on my arm hard, almost hard enough to hurt. I found myself wishing that he would squeeze harder.
I stumbled and pressed my body against him. I felt as though I was drunk. He smiled and pulled me closer. "Just a little further, little bird," he murmured in my ear. His breath was warm, but it made me shiver.
Inside the door to the lobby he released me. "Go get the key to room 1027," he ordered. "It's already reserved and paid for."
A flash of fear cut through the fog of my horniness. I remembered the other girl. Secretly, I checked my pocket for my mobile. Then I pretended to be shy.
"Please, sir, can you do it? I don't want hotel people to think I'm bad girl."
"But you are a bad girl, Nok, aren't you?" He stroked his hand down over my backside. From behind, he slipped a finger into the valley of damp denim between my thighs. "Your cunt is sopping." He rubbed his finger back and forth over the seam, pressing into my folds. "You're a dirty, improper little girl who deserves to be punished. Isn't that right?"
I squirmed at his touch, struggling to stay silent.
"Anyway, no one cares whether you go to a hotel with a foreigner. Whereas I have a reputation to protect. I need to be discreet about these things. There would be severe repercussions if my secrets were discovered."
I didn't completely understand what he was saying. But the message of his fingers was loud and clear. Somehow he managed to pinch my clit through the stiff material. I moaned. "Do it, Nok," he said. "Or I'll take you back to the bar."
On shaky legs, I walked over and asked for the key. The desk clerk looked me over carefully. Then he searched the lobby, trying to find out who I was with. But Sam was not visible.
I found him waiting for me by the elevators. I handed him the key. "Good girl," he said with that strange smile. He bent over and gave me a long kiss that ended in a savage bite. He caught me as I started to fall.
As soon as the door to the room closed, he lifted me into his arms. I was right. He was incredibly strong. The muscles moved under his fine shirt as he carried me over to the bed. I couldn't escape him. But I didn't want to. I wanted to be cradled in his arms, with my pussy streaming, my heart pounding, my own limbs wobbly as jelly, forever.
I felt a flash of disappointment when he laid me on my back on the silk bedspread. He must have seen it on my face. He sat down next to me.
"Be patient, Nok. I told you before. You must learn how to wait. Now be still." He ended his instructions with a tweak of my nipple. That made it very difficult to obey him, but I tried.
I heard him go into the bathroom and close the door. Without moving my head, I tried to look around the room. There were no suitcases, or any other sign that someone was staying here.
There was the sound of the bathroom door opening. My heart beat ever quicker than before. I kept my eyes straight ahead, facing the ceiling. I felt his warmth beside me, but I didn't turn to look. Then there was a flash of light reflecting metal, and I couldn't help myself.
The farang stood very close to me. He was naked. There was blond hair around his nipples, and darker hair between his legs. His cock was hard. The pale skin on it was stretched so tight, it looked like it might burst. The knob at the end pulsed, bright red. I thought of the beacon light on top of a police car.
Saliva flowed into my mouth. I wanted to taste him, to suck him. I started to reach for him, to pull him closer. Then I saw. He had an open pocketknife in his hand.
I choked back a cry. The shiny blade gleamed as he waved it slowly in front of my face. I shrank away, out of instinct. He saw my terror. He loved it.
"Be still," he said quietly. "I told you not to move. I meant it." He leaned over me. I smelled his cologne and his sweat. The knife was close t
o my skin, close to my throat. I tried to scream. Somehow I couldn't. Because despite my terror, I didn't want to move. I didn't want to disappoint him.
I tried to close my eyes. He held them open with his stare. "Look at me, Nok," he whispered. His eyes were deep pools of cold blue. It seemed that something flickered there, like a frozen flame.
The flame seemed to spread from his eyes to my body. I was on fire with wanting him. At the same time, I was paralyzed by fear.
He hooked the tip of the blade into the fabric of my shirt and ripped it downwards. The shirt fell open, showing him my brown, swollen nipples. Swollen with desire for him. He laughed softly. Gently, he placed the cold steel flat against one aching nub. I shivered, and he laughed again.
"You are perfect, just what I need," he said. Leaving the knife in place, he sucked my other nipple into his mouth. Hot saliva and cold steel. Pleasure beat in my sex like another heart. "And I am what you need, the master you have been seeking."
No, I thought vaguely, no one is my master. I am the mistress, the one giving the orders. That thought melted away in the heat of his mouth.
He put the knife aside. He trailed kisses down my belly. I tried to help him unzip my shorts. He slapped my hand away. "Be still! Unless you want me to punish you..." He sat upright and his eyes flicked over to the knife. "If you won't obey me, I might as well leave."
This was far worse threat than the knife. "No, sir, please, don't. I won't move." I tried to remain motionless. It was very difficult.
He raised my hips with one hand and pulled my shorts down to my knees with the other. The smell of my sex was strong. He swiped one finger through my crack. I jerked in reaction, close to coming from that one touch.
A stinging slap on my left breast, then on my right. "Still, I said!" After the pain, the glow, the pleasure flowing through me like a river. "I'll have to tie you, I suppose. That will keep you in check." Roughly, he pulled off my shorts and tossed them aside. Then he reached under the bed. He came back up with a coil of black rope.
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