Bangkok Noir

by Lisabet Sarai

  A faint flicker of fear, a dim memory. She probably asked for it. His face, hovering over mine, eyes burning into my soul. "Do you want that, Nok? Shall I bind you, so that you are helpless? So that I can do whatever I want to you?"

  His fingers groped in my pussy and found my clit. He began to squeeze. Slowly at first, then faster. Then his fingernails, digging into my flesh. Each time slicing a little deeper. Each time creating sharper pain and more intense delight.

  Still. I must remain still, I thought, even as I thrashed and struggled on the bed. Suddenly, he took his hand away. "No, please..." I pleaded, as the echoes of pleasure quickly faded.

  "Please what?"

  "Don't stop, please."

  "But how can I continue when you won't be still?"

  "Please, sir." I was lost, desperate, ready to do anything for his renewed touch. "Please, tie me up, if that's what you want. I'll do anything. Just don't stop. Don't go."

  "Good girl," he murmured, bending to prod my clit with his tongue and send an earthquake through my body. "I think you are ready. Ready for the ultimate thrill."

  The ropes tightened around my wrists. I felt a new surge of terror. Then all at once, new peace. I had made my choice. I was in his hands, for better or worse. All that mattered was that I please him.

  He was fastening some sharp metal clamps onto my pussy lips when I heard my phone ring. In my pocket. On the floor. Across the room.

  He plunged three fingers deep into my pussy. I forgot to be afraid.

  Chapter Nine

  With the tip of my finger, I traced the design, starting where the tail of the dragon curls around my navel, up the center of my torso, along the svelte curves that circled the spot where my left breast used to be. The red and gold of the scales blend with the livid hues of the scar. The dragon's head paints the swell of my remaining breast, his jaws gaping as though he'd swallow it whole. I shivered with pleasure at my own touch.

  I remembered pain. The pain of hours under the artist's needle. Healing pain. Cleansing pain. And then the other, earlier pain, so difficult to bear then, but now transformed. My breathing became a bit ragged; my cunt pulsed and ached. The pain is a part of me now, part of who I am. One of my gifts.

  Apichat watched me closely, trying to understand. He wanted me to share this gift. I found that I was more than willing.

  "Slave. I told you to bring with you the instrument with which you wanted to be punished. Did you disobey me?"

  "No, Ajarn." He gestured toward his trousers, crumpled behind him on the floor, and blushed.

  I waited.

  "The belt," he said, finally. "She used to beat me with my belt."

  "Who used to beat you?"

  "My wife. For many years, she secretly made me her slave. Until she died." I had known, vaguely, that Apichat was a widower.

  "And you allowed her to abuse you?"

  He nodded, swallowed, then continued. "I loved her. She loved me. This was part of our love."

  He looked anxious, suddenly. "You won't tell anyone, will you? If anyone knew..."

  "Of course not. You know you can trust me. If you didn't, you wouldn't be here, kneeling in front of me."

  Relieved, he nodded.

  "Go get your trousers, then. On your hands and knees. With your mouth."

  Without further hesitation, he scrambled across the carpet, picked up the garment in his teeth, and brought it back to lay it at my feet.

  "Good little dog," I said, patting him on the head. The Thais think that dogs are low animals and that the head is sacred, not to be touched. My gesture was a double humiliation. Apichat's erection swelled even further.

  I slipped the belt out of the loops and flexed it in my hand. Quality leather, well-seasoned. Without warning, I swiveled around brought the belt down hard on the cushions of the chair behind me. Apichat jumped at the satisfying "thwack" of leather on silk.

  "Yes, this will do nicely." There was something in his pocket. "Let's see what else you have here. Handcuffs! How convenient!"

  "Did your wife use these, too?" He bowed his head, miserably aroused. Of course a masochistic policeman would be particularly turned on by the tools of his trade. "And what about your nightstick? Did she use that to beat you," (I licked my lips at the tasty thought) "or in other, more intimate ways?"

  Apichat eyes glittered with excitement. I imagined him bent over, shackled, a greased rod of polished wood protruding from his ass.

  Time to turn fantasy into reality. I brought the desk chair over and placed it with its back to the armchair.

  "Put your chest here." I ordered, patting the seat. He shuffled over on his knees, as quickly as he could. "Arms stretched through the slats." As I fastened his wrists together on the back side of the chair, I caught a whiff of his dark, musky sweat. My cunt clenched in response, reminding me how aroused I was.

  Maybe I should have had him give me head, first. But a dominant can't be greedy.

  Circling around behind him, I nudged his thighs apart with my foot. Then I reached between them and gave his compact balls a moderately vicious squeeze. The colonel moaned.

  "As you have requested, I'm going to whip you. I'll continue until I think you have had enough. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Ajarn."

  "If the pain is too much, say the word 'Elephant'. I'll stop then, and send you home. Is that clear?"

  He nodded

  "What do you say if you want me to stop?"

  He seemed reluctant even to voice the word. "Tell me, slave, or I'll send you home right now."

  "Elephant, Ajarn".

  "Good. Now prepare yourself."

  I made him wait for several minutes, while I became familiar with the belt. It was smooth and supple. I held it to my nose and breathed deeply; my cunt quivered in response. Leather always has that effect on me. I slipped the belt between my legs and ran it back and forth between my pussy lips. Lubricating it. The sensation was delicious. I found myself hoping that my victim would break quickly, so that I could experience some personal relief.

  My first stroke took him by surprise. The leather whistled through the air and landed squarely across both buttocks. A scarlet trail erupted in its wake.

  Apichat choked back a cry of pain and shock. I came around to look at this face. There were tears in his eyes.

  "Too much?" I asked softly.

  "Oh no, Ajarn. No. It just that it has been so long."

  "So I should continue, then?"

  He raised his eyes to mine. "Please, Ajarn."

  My second stroke sliced clean and sharp across his shoulders. His body shook with the force of it, but he remained silent. The third blow painted red patterns across the backs of his thighs. His muscles clenched each time I struck, but still he made no sound.

  Ten strokes. Twenty. His skin began to look as though he had been barbecued. I paused to check his state, a bit worried. His eyes were closed. His tousled hair was matted against his sweaty brow. His breathing was deep and even. And his russet-colored cock was rigid as stone.

  "Enough?" I whispered in his ear. He shook his head.

  "More," he croaked hoarsely. "Please, more."

  I gave him twenty more strokes. His buttocks twitched and his back arched each time the leather kissed him. My arms and back began to ache. I'm not young any more. Still, he offered his body to me, mutely asking for my power, my pain.

  Finally, it was I who couldn't take any more. I unfastened the handcuffs. He crumpled to the floor. Was he unconscious? I crouched beside him, rolling him over on his back.

  "Colonel? Are you alright?"

  He opened his eyes and smiled, though his voice was a weak whisper. "Oh yes. Thank you, Ajarn." He let his eyes close again, exhausted, but his face was calm and relaxed.

  There he was, simultaneously so vulnerable, and so strong. With that cock of his still rearing up between those sinewy thighs. I had no choice.

  I reached for his trousers and rummaged once more in his pockets. As I hoped, I found a cond
om. I straddled his skinny body and lowered my slippery cunt onto his swollen organ.

  His cock convulsed as my heat engulfed him. "Don't come, slave," I warned, "or I'll beat you some more." He said nothing, but I could swear that he struggled not to grin. Leaning over, I forced my nipple into his mouth. "Suck on this, slave, and be grateful. Maybe after I climax, I'll let you come."

  He answered by arching his back, driving his cock into my depths. Unexpectedly, that was enough to push me over the edge. I plummeted down, down, flying through a void where there was nothing but pleasure. Pleasure swirled around me, shimmered through me.

  I felt his teeth sink into my breast. His nails scored my buttocks. Dimly I heard grunts, sensed renewed heat as he exploded inside me. Pleasure, the sweet pure pleasure of lust long denied, washed every other sensation away.

  *****

  The jangle of my mobile woke me from the soundest of sleeps. Disoriented, I gazed around the strange room. Where the hell was I?

  My phone rang again. As I scrambled out of bed, I saw the wiry brown body tangled in the sheets beside me. I smiled as I pressed the answer button, though I knew a call on my private number probably meant trouble.

  "Ajarn? This is Daeng."

  "Good morning, Daeng."

  "Afternoon, Ajarn." I check the phone's clock. Sure enough, it was after one PM.

  "What's going on?"

  "The police. They found Nok."

  The room swam around me. Oh, no, please. Not Nok.

  "In a hotel room, tied to the bed, with her ripped shirt stuffed in her mouth."

  I felt limp, helpless. When would this stop? I tried to pay attention, get the details. I would have to tell Nok's family.

  "Someone called the police. A farang. He told them where to find her."

  "Yes?"

  "So anyway, Nok asked me tell you that she wants to take a few days off."

  My heart skipped several beats. "A few days off? You mean, she's alright?"

  "Yes, she was very careless, but except for some bruises and bites, she is fine. But she doesn't seem to be herself. She's very quiet. She says she wants to go back home, upcountry, and think."

  Nok was not hurt, not dead. I thanked whatever gods watched over this old dyke Domme for that blessing.

  "Thanks for calling. Tell Nok she can take as much time off as she needs."

  "Ok, Ajarn. See you later?"

  "Yes, Daeng. Of course. See you later."

  I climbed back into bed and curled my body around Apichat's slighter frame, careful not to brush against his stripes. It sounded like Nok might have learned a lesson.

  There was another, unfamiliar ring. The colonel was awake immediately. He sprang out of bed and fumbled in his pants pocket. I noticed his belt and handcuffs, my corset and stockings, all scattered around the floor.

  He nodded, once, twice, speaking so low that I couldn't hear him. When he snapped the phone shut at the end of the call, his face was grim.

  "What is it? Another murder?"

  The pain that had been such a common expression on Apichat's face had returned. "Not exactly. But another death."

  I waited patiently for him to explain.

  "Lieutenant Narongchai. He slit his throat. They found him in his room this morning."

  Kwai? Committed suicide? He really didn't seem the type.

  "There was a note in his room. A confession. He killed those two girls. Then later, he killed himself. He said that their ghosts were haunting him. He couldn't get away from them."

  I couldn't believe it. And then, remembering the closed up darkness in Kwai's eyes, I could.

  Apichat was already pulling his clothes. "I have to go back to headquarters. The whole department is upset. Nobody knows what to do."

  He was already at the door when he turned back to me. His face softened. "Thank you, Ajarn, for last night. It was wonderful."

  "No, I should thank you." Bizarrely, I felt bereft, as though he was master and I was his devoted slave. I struggled to put some authority in my voice. "And do you think that you will want another session?"

  A gentle smile lit his weathered face. "Perhaps, Ajarn. Perhaps."

  I lay in bed by myself for a long time after he left, idly stroking my body, replaying scenes from the previous night. Everything felt slightly off-kilter, as if there had been some subtle shift in reality.

  Maybe I just needed a vacation. I wondered idly if I could persuade Nok to come with me to Phuket or Koh Samui. I was daydreaming about this scenario when my mobile rang again.

  I knew, deep in my bones, that the news would not be good.

  It was my colonel. They'd found another girl's body, tied and tortured, this time in a cheap hotel not far from the river.

  Kwai was gone. But the nightmare continued.

  Chapter Ten

  I ran away from Bangkok.

  When the police found me tied up, I wanted to sink through the floor. My pussy was all swollen and sticky. My breasts were covered with Sam's bites. This isn't me, I wanted to scream. They copied information from my ID card and snapped pictures of my bruises. I'm not some weak girl who lets men hurt her. But they could see the truth for themselves.

  I told them I'd chosen to go with Sam. I swore he hadn't really done me any harm. I wasn't exactly lying. My body was fine. But when I thought about his eyes, his touch - his knife – I started to get excited again. I was like a drug addict. I wanted more, even if it killed me. He had done something to my spirit. I felt like he'd pulled a bandage off a wound and I was bleeding inside.

  I couldn't go back to the bar. I knew the other girls would hear about my shame. I couldn't face the gossip. And I wasn't sure I could get up on stage again and be the powerful, cruel cat woman I used to be. So I ran away to my village.

  On the five hour bus ride to Buriram, I listened to my MP3 player. I tried to sleep. I tried not to think about Sam. But I kept hearing his silky voice in my mind. You are perfect, just what I need. Even now, after he used and shamed me, all I wanted was to obey him.

  My younger brother met me at the station with his pickup truck and drove us through the rice fields to my mother's house. At first everyone seemed glad to see me. I gave them the gifts I'd brought from the city – coconut sweets, Chinese sausage and a big bag of rambutans. My mom made my favorite meal. I sat with her in the shade under the house. I peeled garlic and chopped chillies. She shredded raw papaya and hacked up the chicken. My little sister relaxed in the hammock swung between the stilts, nursing her baby. My brother squatted nearby so he could listen to my stories.

  I told them about the latest scandals and the newest shopping centers. I showed them photos of me and my friends celebrating one girl's birthday and the cute dog that lived in my soi. We all ate until our stomachs hurt. I drank some of my brother's whiskey and teased him about his girlfriend. My sister let me have her bed. I fell asleep under the mosquito net, glad to be home. Safe.

  In a day or two, though, I felt restless. I didn't know what to do with myself. I played with my infant nephew. I helped my mom in the fields. I went to the wat to make merit. I prayed to the Buddha to take away my desire for the blond farang. When that didn't bring me peace, I amused myself by bossing my siblings, the way I used to. Nothing helped.

  Every time I walked through the village, I heard the whispers. Of course everyone knew what I did for a living. And I wasn't the only daughter in the village sending home money earned in a bar. I held my head high and pretended not to hear. My mother's house had a new roof and my sister just bought a bright red Honda motorbike. The whole village was jealous. Who cared what they thought?

  After a week, my mother came right out and asked me when I was going back to the city. "You don't want to lose your job," she commented. She wrung one of my shirts out in the basin and draped it over the clothesline.

  "I won't. My boss likes me."

  "Still, there are so many girls in Bangkok..."

  "You're afraid I won't send you money anymore?"

 
"No, no, you're a good daughter." She smiled at me, looking like she wanted to apologize. "We have a fine life because of you. But you know, Nok – you don't really belong here anymore."

  She was right. I missed the bright lights and the loud music. I missed my friends. I even missed the Ajarn. And I couldn't lie to myself. Most of all, I wanted to see Sam again. I knew that was a mistake but I couldn't help myself.

  I took the early bus the next morning. I spent the trip practicing my dance routines in my mind and trying to convince myself I'd never give up my power again.

  It was getting dark when I got to work. Ajarn was behind the bar, busy with some papers. She gave me a big smile. I guess she missed me too.

  "Ah, Nok! Welcome back? How are things in your village? Is your family well?"

  "Everything fine, Ajarn. And here?"

  A kind of shadow darkened her face. "Well..."

  A chill crawled over my sweaty body. "They found another girl, right?" I wasn't really asking. Somehow I knew.

  Ajarn nodded. "She was a hostess from a bar over in Nana Plaza. I hate to say it, but I'm grateful she didn't work here in Patpong."

  I just nodded and headed upstairs. Somehow I felt guilty, as if I killed her.

  I looked through my costumes. Lots of bars make all the dancers dress alike. Ajarn had different costumes sewn to order for each of her girls.

  I chose an outfit I call my "space suit". It's made of thin, stretchy, silvery cloth that sparkles when I move. Long sleeves and leggings cover me up from my wrists to my ankles. But the costume has cutouts here and there that show off plenty of skin. The costume includes a glass wand that spits out purple electric sparks. I love seeing the shock on the customers' faces when I touch the glass to their bare arms. It doesn't really hurt much, but being scared excites them.

  I understood that fear now, much better than before.

  The silver clung to my body. I painted on shiny eyeshadow and purple lipstick, and pulled my hair into a high ponytail. Now I looked more like my true self. If Sam comes back, I'll ignore him. I almost believed it.