The next morning, I wasn’t sure if – with time to think about the sensations of the night before – Ben would have left early for Bangkok. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he ran. Plenty do. And I’d put him on a bit of a fast track, given the timeline. Given the anonymity of a foreign country, and the lack of contact details, there would be nothing I could do about it.
At the breakfast table, the talk turned to the exploits of the group the night before. Everyone looked a little worse for wear, especially Bruno, who was pushing scrambled eggs around the plate with his fork. Apparently Bruno had become a bit of an extrovert last night, after a few rounds of bucket drinks, talking about his recent divorce. The groups evening culminated in him attempting to dance on the speaker of the club. The others had had to wrestle him into a tuk tuk, offering drunken apologies to the frantic manager. He had started crying on the way home. The piece de resistance? He had thrown up on Penelope.
“You OK, mate?” Aussie said, passing Bruno a bottle of water. “You should drink something… you really went for it last night!”
Bruno groaned, letting his head fall forward onto his arms. A familiar figure appeared in the doorway, looking a bit self conscious.
“Ben!” Penelope cried.
“Hey mate! Where were you last night? Katia said you got sunstroke or something. You alright? Bruno didn’t do much better, poor bugger – look at him!”
Ben looked at Bruno, looked at me. I smiled.
“You were a little tied up, weren’t you Ben?”
Ben’s face began to flush. Aussie looked at me with a grin.
“I mean, Ben leaves today, so I imagine between the heat and the packing for his flight this evening, he was too busy, weren’t you Ben?”
“Something like that. Yeah.”
Ben took a pastry and sat down slowly with the group. He wolfed down his food, periodically glancing up at me. I pulled my hair brush out of my bag, catching Ben’s eye as I ran a manicured finger down the bristles and banged it a few times in my hand. He coughed and shuffled awkwardly in his seat, wincing a little.
“Ben, you don’t look well,” Kim said, “maybe you should get some rest? Your face looks really red.”
I started brushing my hair, placing my tongue between my teeth as I grinned wickedly at him. Ben’s eyes widened.
“I think I may go and lie down. Catch you later, guys.”
Ben got up, almost taking the table with him, and hurried out, day bag placed strategically over the front of his shorts. I chuckled.
When I got back to my room, I found a piece of paper slipped under the door: Ben’s address in Bangkok. His cellphone number. He’d be staying in Silom, nearest skytrain station, Sala Daeng. I slipped the paper into my wallet. He was going to continue the game. Good.
Signed, “I wont cum until you do, Mistress. Ben.”
I wiled away the last few days at the resort, taking time to relax, to ride a bike down the red dirt roads, past fruit and vegetable markets, with their spoiling cuts of meat and little Khmer children playing in the doorways of stores and homes. In the afternoons, I sunned myself by the pool, watching in amusement as an unlikely holiday romance bloomed between Penelope and Bruno. The boring and the naïve in perfect harmony. It was very cute.
Kim went onto Bali the day before I left, no doubt with an expanded mind. Sunshine and relaxation were good, but by the time I caught my flight to Bangkok, I was keen to get back to work.
Bangkok was hot, but not so oppressively as Cambodia. Compared to Cambodia’s sleepy vibe, the multisensory assault of Thai music thudding over loudspeakers from bars and restaurants, the endless stream of traffic, city lights and the smell of food carts were an adjustment.
I took a taxi to the hotel I had purchased in Siem Reap before the flight, deliberately close to Ben’s, in Silom. The City of Life is a place that never sleeps. If things went well in the few days, neither would Ben.
I didn’t bother to contact Ben the first night. He could wait. Instead I bought a Chang beer at the Skybar just around the corner and searched for Bangkok Mistresses. Call it window shopping. I was curious how they did things around here. Maybe I could learn a few things. There is a surprisingly large bdsm community in Bangkok and among a sea of PVC wrapped Mistresses was a wide range of ages and sexes. Petite women with scowls on their doll-like faces, to the more playful aggression of the ladyboy dominatrixes. There were a few much older women too that looked like they had spanked more than their share of bottoms in their lifetimes. All power to them.
My eyes settled on a Thai Mistress who looked in her fourties. Her age showed in the soft lines around her eyes, but her eyes sparkled with a brightness of someone much younger, or etherically older. In her PVC leggings, t-shirt and stilettos, she could have easily passed for just another Thai woman dressed in black in the street, during this year’s duration of mourning for the King who passed just a few months before. Except for the riding crop, of course. That’s the fascinating thing about the bdsm community. By day its members are teachers, or mothers, or grandfathers or pastors – by night, they are master or servant. Two worlds, two lives. Mundane and mythical.
This mistress, crop in hand and reclining in the red velvet chair of the local Dungeon club in Patpong, reminded me of my own Mistress – the one who introduced me to the scene two years ago. The smile curled up to one side, like hers, giving the impression that she had two faces in one. Both filthy and tender. I’d met my Mistress through a friend at a work party, and while I consider myself hetero in preference, her, provocative language, razor sharp wit and exaggerated sensuality fascinated me immediately. Before I knew it, I was helplessly in love with her, which I now realize was foolish, because to her I was only ever a plaything to be dangled. But what do you know? Turns out, I actually enjoyed being dangled, then whipped… then violated. By her. I would honestly have done anything for her if she had asked me to. And this relinquishing of my power to her gave me freedom and new strength to tackle other challenges in my life. Before meeting her, I was submissive and miserable about it. I would draw boundaries with others, but when I read the disappointment on their faces, I’d remove the boundary and feel utterly disgusted with myself. Mistress pushed me to remove my boundaries too, but it was different, because I had agreed to it and because she was pushing me to become something better. With every lash, every teasing word, every moment of her terrible silent treatment, I was excited, terrified and deeply aroused. When I couldn’t take it anymore, when I thought I hated her and wanted to give up, she would coax me back in with those words of hers and I’d lie before her again. Her’s totally. When it was time for us to go our separate ways, I was deeply sad, but also inspired. I started Mistressing shortly after, one sub at a time, opening the door for my subs to walk through, as she had opened it for me. I don’t think I could be submissive for anyone ever again. Except perhaps her.
Anyway, enough introspection. I drink up the rest of the Chang, take a few panoramic photos of the neon circuit board city below me and pull Ben’s number out of my purse. A ring tone.
Ben greeted me in the doorway of the hotel, attempting to hug me. My eyes looked dourly into his.
“Mistress..” he whispered, dropping his arms.
Ben looked down. I passed him my bag.
Ben walked ahead of me past the reception, where a Thai desk clerk was chatting animatedly in broken English to a couple, whose child was laying screaming on the floor. Nine o’ clock. I’d stopped by a stall on the way, seeing a black leather collar with a ring on the front, that might have been a fashion accessory for a teenager, but was large enough – I thought – for Ben’s neck.
We took the elevator to the 11th floor. The bay windows showed the electric buzz of Bangkok’s night scene. Ben’s room was around the corner. It was of a modest size and had a leaking faucet. How appropriate.
I kicked off my stilettos at the door, my feet throbbing from the heat and the recent travel. Ben had placed my bag next to the chaise lounge.
He dropped his pants immediately and hastily unbuttoned his shirt. I sat down on the silken chaise lounge.
“Crouch. All fours. Sideways, under my feet.”
Ben hurried over and crouched, the petuchiae on his ass had begun to blossom into a map of purple and blue constellations. He’d shaved fully, exactly as I’d instructed, his cock far more vulnerable now it had no hair to hide in. It hung there vulnerably like a shrivelled up worm that even a broken beaked crow wouldn’t touch.
“Like this Mistress?”
I slapped him hard on his mangled ass.
“Did I instruct you to speak?”
“And say thank you, Mistress. I am spending my valuable time teaching you.”
“Thank you Mistress.”
His ass clenched. He didn’t say another word. I took the remote and turned on the television. A Thai lady in a pink suit was teaching Thai phrases. Ben’s head lifts to see what was on the screen.
“Ow! Thank you, Mistress!”
He looked down. I spanked him again and again until he was exactly how I wanted him to be: submissive and silent. Thai was an interesting language, I listened to the lady for a while – though throughout the tutorial there was no instruction on how to say, “yes mistress”. I pulled out my phone to Google it.
“Chi phu pen thirak”. That could be useful later.
I turned off the television, spreading my legs and running each along Ben’s back until one was placed behind his bottom, pushing him forward, and one below his downturned face, teasing his lips with my big toe, which he obligingly began to suck.
He released by toe with a satisfying smack of his lips and knelt before me, eyes down. I reached into my bag for the leather collar, unfastened it and placing it around his neck. I wondered if it would take a choke chain, whether it was real leather. Bangkok vendors have a saying: “same same” (but different). You ask if something is real leather and they say “same same” with a naughty grin that suggests it may or may not be, but who’s worried?
Buckle fastened, I pulled Ben’s head up by the hair and fixed him with my gaze.
“Who are you?”
Ben looked confused.
“No. Not Ben. Ben is that cocksure no-nothing that existed before you met me. Now you’re mine – my faithful lapdog, that would do anything for me.”
I reach down, grab his semi-erect cock and yank it forward until I see tears form in his eyes.
“And whose is this?”
“Y… yours Mistress…”
I released my grip, then mercilessly thrust my hand between his sweaty thighs to grasp his balls. He yelped as I squeezed.
“Y… ow… yours Mistress… please…”
I released my grip and withdrew my hand. Ben sighed, beginning to slump down but caught my gaze and straightened up. I leaned for the toy bag to retrieve the cock cage and keys.
“Stand. Quickly now.”
With Ben’s erections going up faster than new apartments in the city, I knew I had to work fast. I unlocked the fastenings, applied lube roughly to his cock and slid on the cage.
“What is that, Mistress?”
Click. The padlock snapped shut.
“It’s a cock cage, Ben. It means that your balls and cock are mine. I own not only your mind, but your pleasure too. And as both of your heads lack self-control, my metal friend here is going to help me with your lower one, while I turn the screws on your mind. That sounds good, doesn’t it Ben?”
Ben looked hesitant.
“Oh, what is it now, dog?”
“Uh, what if I need to pee, Mistress?”
“Then pee. I’m not stopping you. You might want to sit down though – I imagine it might get a little messy otherwise.”
“From now on, Mistress? How… uh… how long?”
“How long will you be in Bangkok?”
“Eight more days.”
“Perfect. I am here for another ten. So in eight more days you will get your toy back to play with, but for now its mine, understand? Day and night, under lock and key. And you might want to stay on my good side,” I say, jangling the keys on my finger, “because the Mekong River is very deep and dark, and if these were to accidentally fall into it… well who knows how complicated it would be to get out of that.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Ben looked up at me in horror. I cackled and stood up, fetching the strap-on from my bag. I fitted it over my black faux-leather pants. Ben crawled on all fours, without thinking, hungrily watching as I fastened the buckle and bounced it theatrically around for him.
“You look like a very excited dog right now.”
“I am Mistress!”
“I wonder what you’re thinking about right now…”
Ben licked his lips then tried to look away, suddenly shy.
“Let me help you articulate, then, Ben.”
I walked behind him with the strap-on, towering over him as he wiggled his ass hungrily, growing more aroused with every moment of anticipation.
“I imagine you are thinking what it would be like if I lubed you up as I did the other night, teased your balls with this giant cock of mine, rolling it softly up and down the inside of your thighs as you release any resistance to the idea of what I am going to do to you.”
Ben let out a low groan as his breathing quickened.
“And then perhaps that I might tease the tip of it back up your thigh, past your balls and over that tender skin up to your arsehole, pushing it against that pink little rose until you ask – you beg, you cry – for me to drive it deep into you.
“Yes… yes Mistress…”
I smiled as Ben’s hips took on a life of their own. He might have been a dog, except that without a tail he showed his excitement in the rapid jerks of his eager cheeks, licking his dry lips, mouth breathing.
“And then maybe you’d imagine me taking you by the hips, digging my fingernails into the sides of them, that soft flesh, and using them to ram myself in and out – in and out – until you scream with pain and terror and pleasure. Imagine the sounds you’d hear, between the slickness of that lube and the resistance of your ass giving to the pressure of me using and debasing you for my pleasure.”
Ben looked beside himself in arousal, body writhing close to the ground as he panted. I gave him a sharp slap to the side of the face.
“Did I tell you to be on all fours?”
“Mistress! Sorry Mistress!”
Ben got up to his knees, straight backed and staring apologetically at me. The cock cage looked a little more snug now, red flesh bulging out of the sides of the metal, giving his cock the look of hung salami.
“As always you are thinking of yourself first. But as I told you before – women come first, always. I understand. You’re hungry, aren’t you Ben?”
“Oh yes, Mistress!”
“I’m going to give you something that should satisfy that need, because I am very good to you – aren’t I, Ben?”
“Oh yes, Mistress. Thank you Mistress!”
I walked around to face him, positioning myself so the tip of the phallus teased his lips.
Ben opened his mouth, looking a little unconvinced.
“Oh don’t pout like that. What’s wrong now?”
“It’s just that… I’ve never…”
“Is that it? Really Ben, you sucked my toe earlier, and I know you can work a banana like a pro. This is the same – just think of it as a… a bigger banana.”
(Same same – but different)
Ben opened his mouth. I prized it open a little more with my hands, then slid half of the cock into his receptive wetness, rocking gently backwards and forwards as he got to grips with taking it. At first his attempt was meagre, but he soon got into the spirit of things.
“That’s it! Oh you’re a good little cock sucker aren’t you? Maybe you could make a career out of this. Oh… so hungry. Would you like me to give you more?”
Ben gave a muffled moan of what I took for approval between slurps, and I clutched two handfuls of hair and started to drive further into his mouth, exploring the back of his tongue, his throat. He gagged. I stopped for a moment, then resumed my thrusting.
Gluk gluk gluk!
His mouth began to foam with saliva, his nostrils working furiously to maintain the oxygen level as I increased the pace and depth. He really was quite exceptional at the task. The amount of devotion to a task that a few days ago, I couldn’t imagine he’d ever have contemplated doing in his life.
Gluk gluk gluk!
After ten minutes of this I had quite tired myself out. I drove the cock a final time as far into his mouth until he started to gag, held it there for a few moments, watching his toes wiggle and stretch as he struggled to hang on. When I drew back, a foam of drool splashed to the floor, Ben’s tongue still undulating against his teeth, mouth agog.
“I think you’ve had enough for tonight, Ben. I will see you tomorrow. We have more work to do. Perhaps lunchtime – your treat of course.”