Message-ID: <3788eli$9709062207@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: gentclub@hotmail.com (Stroker Ace) Subject: Beyond Chiang Mai - A Bangkok slaver story - Chap 2 - NC, mf Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <341181ff.117947811@news.gate.net> Beyond Chiang Mai A Bangkok Slaver Story WARNING! Contains sex and violence forced upon a woman by both male and females. The story is for mature adults who can maintain a distinction no matter how vague, between reality and fiction. It is intense. You have been warned. (c) 1997, Stroker Ace Beyond Chiang Mai Chapter -- 2, Hospitality A maze of crowded corridors, escalators, lines, security, customs. With my one bag, rumpled and bleary eyed, the maze spits me out in a big crowded room. Heathrow, one of the busiest airports in the world. An hour later, I am still wondering around, bouncing from one British Airways counter to another, trying to find someone who knows more than just selling tickets. Bodwell's handwritten note, ridiculously short, had given her name. A Roxanne Bodwell working for British Airways, stationed in London. Then he went on about how sweet a girl she is. Born in 1960. Had a torrid love affair with an American pilot. Had a daughter by him but never married. He was not the family type. One evening he went out for a beer and never came back. That turned her off men. She dedicated herself to Sarah, her daughter. He included a picture of his girls. Roxanne stood beaming, her arm around Sarah, amidst long afternoon shadows. The grass was a rich green. Proud Sarah wore a soccer uniform, I could make out the letters St. Agatha in script across a still flat chest. Her knee pads were stained with grass. I imagined her sliding on that thick grass. Did she score? I patted my shirt pocket to check if the picture was still there. Finally a supervisor, a woman with a pleasant round face referred me to a Mr. Chambers. "He is the stew boss. Nothing happens to a stewardess with out it first going through him. Upstairs, terminal 4." It took another hour to find his office. Chamber's office was more like a closet, overflowing with manila folders stuffed with papers. Even the old PC on his desk was nothing more than a stand for more folders. Outside his office, was a clunky old copier. All around men and women in British Airways blue, hurried from one door to another. Some towed the mandatory suitcase on wheels, others carried more folders. On his door, a sign proclaimed, Mr. R. Chambers, Manager - Flight Attendant Operations. A tall man with look you associate with the British middle class. Large bottom, dark hair. Chambers scribbled something and handed it to a slim brunette, her hair in a tight bun. I squeezed against the wall to let her by. "Who are you? How did you get up here. This employees only, old man." I must have looked a fright after the all night flight. I introduced myself and ask for his help. "What did you say her name was? Roxanne Boswell? You do have her employee number?" "Bodwell. Roxanne Bodwell. I told you I don't have much information about her. Just that she worked here a year ago." "Mr. Chambers, excuse me, flight 708 is down one member. The ditz is stuck in traffic and her flight boards in 15 minutes." I turned to see a well dressed, middle age woman. She stood out by wearing an office suit rather than the typical stewardess uniform. "Oh dear. What shall I do.. I must reassign someone." he dived into the stacks of folders, then remembering me, raised his head. "Miss Stepford would you help our American friend, here. He is looking for a Boswell, Roxanne, while take care of this little Dunkirk. "Bodwell." "Yes, of course, Mr. Chambers." She offered her hand and a quick smile. She had the look of a contented woman. Happy with her job, her weight, her looks. Maybe she had harder times and was just more appreciative. I followed her back to her office explaining everything. Her office was even smaller yet somehow less custerphobic, actually rather pleasant. Like her, the office was immaculate. Everything in its place. Only a phone and computer sat on the desk. A plant thrived on the small bookcase. Miss Margaret Stepford listened attentively. "Yes, I remember Miss Bodwell. The disappearance was quite a shocker. Are you with the police?" "No. I am a friend. A friend of the family." "I am sorry, I am prohibited from divulging personal information. You do understand." She stood. "Now if you will excuse me." "Why yes. Thank you for your time, Miss Stepford." I picked up my bag, shook her hand and left. So much for my detective career. All I wanted to do is find a hotel and sack out. Making my way back, I meet Chambers in the hall. "Was Margaret of any assistance?" Apparently the panic had passed. "Oh, Miss Stepford? Unfortunately she was unable to give me any information. It seems that it is restricted to law enforcement agencies." "That is unfortunate. Sorry we could not have been of more help." "Well you did everything you could. I will just catch some sleep and get a fight back." I headed off down the hall. "Good God man!" It was Chambers. "Have you no backbone?" "What can I do?" "Oh you poor Yank. So docile. Too much the wimp." He put his hand on my shoulder. He felt like my father. "How do you ever get the lass? Care to have a spot of fun?" "Er.. What do you mean?" "You came all this way for some information. It is only right that we help you. You do like women don't you?" "Yes. Love `em." "Good lad. I am feeling benevolent to you and if you don't mind, I could do with a spot of fun myself. Are you game?" We had retraced my path, we were back at Miss Stepford's office. Without so much as a knock he barged in, reaching back to drag me in by my suitcase strap. "Don't dodle. You will never get anywhere that way." Then to Margaret, "Put down the phone." "Lucy, I will ring you back," she hung up the phone. "Is there something amiss, Mr. Chambers?" "I would say so, Margaret." Chambers approached the sitting woman, not stopping until he was directly in front of her. Her chair slid backwards until hitting the wall. Still he advanced. His legs pushed in-between hers forcing her legs as far apart as her skirt would allow. "Very much amiss." "Oh my, Mr. Chamber's, not here. Not now." "Err. Perhaps I should be going. I don't want to cause any fuss." "Stay." To Miss Stepford, he said, "I gave you a simple order, and this nice man tells me that you refused. Is that right, Margaret?" "I can explain.." "I am not looking for explanations. Is that right, Margaret?" Margaret had to crane her head back, looking almost straight up to see his face. Her eyes were glued to his, while a hand flapped in the air. It took me a moment to understand.she wanted the door shut. "Not in front him, Roger. I must insist upon it." Her hand pushed against his belt buckle, but he didn't budge. "I call it off, Roger. This is going too far." "That is not an option, my dear. You see, I have decided to expand our little diversions. Remember, sweetie, it was I that took you out of the soup lines in East London. It was I that gave you this position. And I can take it away. But I would hate to do something so rash. For I love you Maggie." He reached down, cupping her chin in his hand. His knuckles gently rubbed her cheek. Margaret's eyes were misting. "But my sweet cake, you must mind your lessons. You will show our fine friend here, how satisfying British hospitality can be. I am placing you at his complete disposal. Complete. Do you understand, Margaret?" Her head fell, then rose. A delayed nod. "See Yank, women like someone to take the reins. You are too docile." He repeated it again. I had been branded `a nice guy' since kindergarten but this was the first time I have been called docile. "Am I right, Margaret?" Her face pressed against his belt buckle. She was gripping the armrests, knuckles white. By stepping to the left, and bending down to place my bag on the floor, I could see her white panties. "Yes, Mr. Chambers." He cupped a breast in a hand. "Here take this." Felling awkward, I slowly squeezed behind the desk and placed my hand on her ample tit. Her breast rose and fell with each breath. Her blouse was thin, the bra lacy at the top. That look of contentment had changed, it could be anticipation or resignation, her eyes golden amber, mouth panting. "Feel it. Nice isn't it. Not like those little tarts. Feel the weight. A 36D. All natural too. Can't beat mother nature, I always say. I am giving you the day off, Maggie. I won't stand for any complaints. Now give Reginald your beeper. My number is scratched on the cover," he explained to me. "Any problems - beep me immediately. And I will check in with you, say every hour or two? I do want a detail report. I like to hear everything." ++++ It was a tiny flat, but just outside of London must have been expensive. Maggie and I had taken the underground to Kenton the walked the few blocks apologizing all the way but not explaining. "I am so sorry you had to see that. He is not like that. Really. He can be such an understanding man" Maggie pulled the curtains back the room filled with light. The power has been turned off, "no heat either, I am afraid." The apartment was like a museum. The calendar a year old, clocks stopped at 1:13. The furniture was still in place. Travel brochures were all over the coffee table. Snow covered mountains of Japan, topless girls in Bora Bora, the native boats of Thailand, the markets of Singapore. "Insurance companies move so slowly, with a disappearance. If they don't have a body they wait a year before settling the estate. British Airways asked me to be liaison to the insurance agency, that's why I know a little of the case." "Life insurance?" "Just the company policy. But she took all the electives. Worth five hundred thousand pounds. By law, it all goes to her daughter's estate. If the daughter is not found by her eighteenth birthday then it all goes to her nearest living relative." "Who is..?" "A Mr. Bodwell Sr. in New Hampshire." "So if Sarah turned up someplace she would inherit a fortune?" "Plus the interest. But if Roxanne turns up, Middlesex Insurance is off the hook." "Run it by me again." "I told you everything in the tube." Maggie glanced at the computer printout. "Roxanne was one of our Senior Attendants. Won the attendant of the year award, twice. Did not miss a day of work for three years straight. Volunteered for the Asia/Pacific flights, they are the hardest you know. Long hours, but she would work flights for other girls, on her days off. On school holidays she would use her free air miles to holiday with Sarah. She showed me pictures of the Grand Canyon and the Pyramids. They were going to see the ruins in Thailand last year. The funny thing is the computer has no record of tickets to Bangkok. I could swear that is what she told me." The room was comfortable, the furniture new, hardly used, as if she never spent much time here. Her closet was full of her uniforms, and coats. Not many casual clothes. I sat on the bed, looking through her nightstand. Several paperbacks, but nothing special. No pictures of a boyfriend, no condoms in her drawer, not even a vibrator. On the dresser were pictures of her daughter, her parents, I recognized Mr. Bodwell. The beeper went off. I used Maggie's cellular to return Chambers call. "There is nothing here, I am just sitting on the bed thinking about what to do next." "Where is Maggie?" "In the other room. She has been a great help so far. It is not her fault that there is nothing to find." "My friend you are helpless. What would you do without me?" Chambers asked. To make him happy, I put Maggie on the phone. She looked worried, didn't say much just, "If you wish." Then later, "Do you really want this?" She had a purpose now. Chambers had taken the reins. She took her jacket off, tossing it at the foot of the bed. I was a little slow on the uptake not jumping to my feet until the white blouse fell away. "No, no, Miss. Put that back on, I am married. I couldn't. Just couldn't." Maggie stepped out of the wool skirt. Her body was all curves, soft and comfortable to my eyes. Her dark triangle just visible through stretched white panties. "You like women? Don't you like me?" "It's not that. Of course you please me. It's just that. Well.." "Take me Reginald. Now, here. Do me anyway you like. I can take it rough or sweet. I will be good to you. I will." Her breast pressed to my chest. "Maggie, I like you but.." She started to cry, "Screw me, please. Take my bum, if you wish." She wiggled seductively against me. I began to awaken. It had been so long. Then it dawned on me. "He told you to, didn't he?" "Please. I am to take your come, before he calls back." She dropped to her knees working my zipper with both hands. I sprung free, eager, erect and growing, finding her mouth, bobbing against the roof of her mouth until her cheeks caved in around my manhood. "Too much, I'm coming!" Abruptly I pushed her backwards taking her on the floor. Later she found that her panties had been ripped, but I can't remember tearing them. The bra slid up, ending dangling backwards around her neck. I was right, Maggie was a soft and comfortable, ramming as hard as I wished, always padding. I came quickly, repeated waves of pleasure. It had been too long. I collapsed on my back. Spent. Having shot as much as I have ever done into her now slopping hole. Maggie placed the phone in my hand. Chambers picked it up on the first ring. "Well?" "I fucked her." What else could I say. "I fucked her." It sounded good. "I fucked her," I laughed." He was laughing too. "Was the bitch any good?" "Dam fine!" "That's a good lad. You are getting the hang of it. Do the bitch over the weekend just fill me in on the details. Oh Reginald, one more thing, do her bum. She needs the training." ++++ Mid morning Sunday, walking through the Scottish countryside up a tree lined path, Maggie on my arm, the boarding school just up ahead. Maggie clenched her fingers, they rested in my back pocket. It is funny what sets you off sometimes. I gave her a nudge with my shoulder, a bump towards the low stone wall. "Not here, anyone could stroll by," she objected but I pulled her over the stones. Laughter came from the road. We stood stiffly, until thinking quickly she kissed me, as two young girls rode by giggling all the time on their bicycles. Bending her over, Maggie braced herself against the wall. I pulled pantyhose to her calves and threw the plaid skirt up. We had become lovers in Roxanne's abandoned flat. Her accessibility edging me on. The limit was there. It had been there all my life. School, college, my few encounters and certainly with Colleen. I just hadn't found it yet with Margaret. All afternoon I fucked her. When bone dry, we went into town ate and came back refreshed. Each time I pushed harder, banged at her cunt until I hurt. Trying for the limit. Not finding one, only proof that I must go further. The flight to Scotland was a welcome rest. But the edge still called. "Spread your legs, Maggie. B-bitch." And she did it! Never had I called a girl, bitch to her face before. Empowered, I tried again. "Strip, Mag. bitch." "Anyone could come along, it is not safe here." Ahh, at last a limit. It had to be. I tried again, "How long has it been? Two, three hours? We should call Chambers, give him an update." One hand went to her buttons, but I wanted it all. "Strip. Take it all off!" "Shhh. I will, I will." But I couldn't wait. I plunged into her, she barely able to brace her hands on the wall. I had to stop and drop my pants, before ramming into her again. She was tight, not yet fully wet, I worked at her going deeper into her soft folds with every thrust, then I was in, her juices flowing. My endurance had grown but the thought of banging her without a care of her comfort, not even a moment of foreplay, just did me. My back arched, hard against her ass I pushed and rocked and emptied into her. Collapsing on her back, I forced those splendid 36D's into the cold, mossy stones. Up the path the wrought iron arch above the gate, declared for students and parents alike, St. Agatha's Academy for Girls. "Better freshen up before we see the headmistress." ++++ Mrs. Eleanor Payne, Dean of Women's Affairs, in gold leaf script painstakingly brushed on the frosted glass pane. You knock at a door like this. All around were rich dark woods, heavy forest green drapes framed the window. The secretary's desk was vacant so I knocked and waited. "You will find it open." The room was encircled by books in cases of more polished dark wood. Behind her desk a large window overseeing a lush green lawn with a huge oak tree. Everywhere there were more books, on her desk, even on the chairs. All except one. A straight backed uncomfortable looking chair of the same dark timber. The chair supported a thin girl her back towards us. I had to look twice for even bare, her straight curve- less form was that of a boy. Folded neatly over thick volume on the desk were her school's plaid skirt and white blouse. Only her bra and panties remained though the white panties had fallen to the crescent, at the bottom of her derriere. "Mrs. Kelman, you will kindly refrain. And who do you thing you are, the Queen Mum? To be charging into my quarters without so much as a knock." "Excuse me Mam, Mr. Reginald Bodwell and my wife Margaret," I improvised. "Sarah's uncle, we called earlier." "Yes of course, I was just expecting my secretary. Please excuse me, while I administer to this wayward juvenile. Kindly turn around young man. Mrs. Bodwell, if you are prone to fainting spells you may take a chair." The juvenile waited, her back straight as the cane that Dean Payne swung. Practice strokes at first to get the arc, for the dark glass of the bookcase made a perfect mirror. Then swoosh, a crack that only skin can make. On the only fat that this poor girl had on her body, her ass. Four more times, with each a whimper, but never a cry. "I pray that you have learned your lesson dear, for the cane awaits those who forget." "A bloom of a woman must remember there is virtue in chastity and temptation resides in both sexes. You will spend the remainder of the weekend studying in your room. Wait outside. Mrs. Kelman will escort you back to your dormitory." "Yes Mrs. Payne." Bent at the waist with head down, tiny budding tits barely filling training cups, she pulled up her skirt. "I shan't forget." She scampered out, pulling on her shirt as she slipped by. "A real shame, that. So much promise since she arrived, but she suffers from a reoccurring attraction to her school mates. She thinks she is smart but I will catch her at it yet." Dean Payne placed the cane among the others in a rack on the wall. I read the polished brass plaque, `Spare the cane and spoil the child.' "But that is not what you wanted to discuss. How can I help?" If I had not seen the way she swung that stick, I would have thought Eleanor Payne to be frail. Her white hair was in a tight bun. She wore pearls and a navy full length skirt. "It is just a shame about Sarah. She was, is, truly St. Agatha caliber," she revealed. "I pulled her dossier.. Respectable grades in literature and history but she was admirable in football and gymnastics." "She liked to perform then?," I asked. "Not at all. Sarah is a extremely shy girl. Shy to a fault. Why I remember the alma-mater football game, she was playing left wing. Good ball control for her age. She was advancing when the announcer mentioned her name. Sarah froze." Eleanor shut the folder. "We lost four to three. Too shy of a lass." "Her mother and I hardly spoke. Like the other parents she picked up Sarah at the end of the semester, we talked a little about her grades. She just said they were off to see the orient. It sounded exciting," she replied, when I asked. "Shannon, the girl that was in here was Sarah's roommate. They were a wee bit too close, if you ask me." Escort Shannon to her dorm, but watch her like a hawk. She has a bad streak, that one does," Dean Payne called after us as we headed across the green. "How old are you, Shannon? Fifteen, I guess." Margaret asked. "You have beautiful hair." She did. Unruly dirty blonde hair that spread across her shoulders. Her body short and flat as a board, her hair was perhaps the only feminine thing about her. That and her mouth. Wide and sensuous, but it was not sounding very feminine. "Yeah. That bloody old hag. She lives for every chance to beat on me. Payne can't stand the thought of love." "Oh you poor child," Margaret reached out for her. "I thought this was an all girl school," I wanted to know. Shannon stopped, looking first at me, then Margaret. She was searching, looking for trust, dying to get back at Dean Payne. "It is. I see that look. Don't make it out to be dirty or something. Its just in this bloody cold prison, a little friendship goes a long way." "You and Sarah were roommates?" "Yeah. I know what you are thinking. And yes. There it is. Go tell the old hag if you want. Get me kicked out, I don't care. We were friends, soul mates. Trying to get through the night together. I miss her." She looked away then started walking again. "Said she was going to holiday in Bangkok for two weeks. Promised to bring me back a Buddha. I miss her. " "Tell her that Shannon said `hey'," she yelled from her dormitory steps. We were making our way to the iron gate. A quickie behind the wall was out of the question this time, a man was coming up the path. "Roger!" Margaret pulled her hand from mine and ran, swinging feet up, into Chambers arms. They were still kissing when I reached him. "Was my Maggie a good girl?" His eyes never left her. "Did you take her bum, like I asked?" "Yeah, the best. Never got around to her ass, though. Not her fault, just liked her pussy, that's all. "That is too bad. Your loss, old man, but I am taking her back. My girl and I are going to holiday in Edinburgh for a few nights." +++ Alone in my tiny hotel room I read the message again. Thoughts of Margaret's milky white skin floated through my head. I missed her already. Her full figured beauty, that round lovely face. A full body just handed over, nothing held back, given full at the word of her man. I missed her love. Not for me but for Chambers. A woman in love. There was nothing left to do but dream of her. My reservation had been made, a British Airways flight to Bangkok. I read the note again. It was from Colleen. She was thrilled of my news, captivated by visions of reward money from Old Man Bodwell. Falling asleep, dreamy images of Colleen blurred into a smiling and submissive Margaret. The typewritten note fluttered to the floor. `Bodwell thinks I am on to something. I will be on the next flight to Bangkok. Don't want you to screw it up. Ha ha. Meet me at the airport and be on time. - Colleen' --- continued in chapter 3 Stroker Ace gentclub@hotmail.com -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /