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Message-ID: <30158asstr$989133004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Ted E. Bear" <tedebear690@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} RP: The Newlywed - Bangkok Slaver Series #2 {Marlissa} (MF, M+F, FF, nc, bdsm, oral, anal)
Date: Sun,  6 May 2001 03:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d





   __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? 
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   <1st attachment, "NEWLYWED.TXT" begin>

   Repost Repost Repost Repost Repost Repost Repost Repost Repost Repost
Repost Repost

  
***************************************************************************
** WARNING: This story is fiction, and should be treated as such.  The
following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains
descriptions of explicit sex.  If you are not an adult, or reading sex
stories upset you, DO NOT read any further.  If it is illegal in your
location, DO NOT read it.

   I am NOT the author, merely a REPOSTER, but this is a copyrighted work
of the author.  Reposting or any other use of it is strictly prohibited
without the express, written permission of the copyright holder, except
that it may be posted as part of a review or posted to a free-access,
noncommercial archive site.

   DO NOT EMAIL ME WITH EITHER YOUR PRAISES OR YOUR COMPLAINTS AS I DID NOT
WRITE THIS STORY.  If I have the author's email address, it is included in
the story.  If not, I don't know how to contact the author either.

   DISCLAIMER: All characters are fictitious.  Any resemblance to anyone
either alive or dead is purely coincidental. 
***************************************************************************
** SPECIAL NOTE!  I am reposting this story, as 1of 6 of the Bangkok Slaver
Series.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with this series, it was
written by three authors, Parker, Marlissa, & Stroker Ace.  Parker started
it, when he wrote "Doctor's Orders", which I guess technically, isn't
really in Bangkok, as it takes place in Southern California, and ends up in
Mexico, but many of the characters, in this story, end up in several or
more of the other 5 stories.  Marlissa then took it up, and wrote "The
Newlywed" & "The Stewardess & Her Daughter".  Parker wrote the next story,
simply called "A Bangkok Slaver Story".  Then Stroker Ace took over and
wrote, "Lollipops" & the final story of the series "Beyond Chiang Mai".

   While I realize that many of you have probably read one or more of these
stories, most of us have not been able to catch all 6, and the newbies
haven't even read one yet.  So I am posting all 6, in the same order that
they were written in, for your reading pleasure, all at the same time. 
While the original posts were by chapter, they will not be posted by entire
story.

   Enjoy!

   Ted E.  Bear
***************************************************************************
** From: Free Crusader <jdavies@inw.net> Organization: IllinetWorks L L C

   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 occurrences 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
was 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.  There's 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 wind breaker, 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 weaselly 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 Joy Town know. 
Colonel

   Chao very unhappy, very, very unhappy.  Say Joy Town 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.  "Joy Town is a small place, isn't it?" The collection of
go-go bars, strip joints and bordellos known as Joy Town was hardcore
Bangkok.

   Tourists didn't know Joy Town, because tourists wound up getting killed
there.  It was off limits except for the hardcore farang or foreigners who
lived long term 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 to
be 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 that 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 that I had laced the drink with, as I picked
her up out of the trunk.  Going up the back way, 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, so 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, and 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 Statistics4.0.  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 step-mother 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 totally
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."



   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 had 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 flashed confusion, then fright as
she recognized me.

   "Ump, g'ump m'ump --"

   Tam appeared from between acts in her trademark black bikini top,
spandex hot pants, 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,
showing them off to Vopat.

   "Pretty!  For Tam?" she demanded.

   Vopat shrugged and Meganne Linsky watched as the Thai whore trainer 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 to 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 girl friends, 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 school girl 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 Joy
Town.

   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 seemed 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 waited, 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 through out 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 after all!" 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 her's 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
back office 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 hot pantsed 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 with 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, panty clad 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 girl's 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 wane, 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 whore trainer.  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 newly wed 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.



   Part 3/4

   Six months later.

   CandyLand is one of Joy Town'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 run way and booths situated around the floor, each
sporting a juke box featuring top singles from the 50's 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 expats who
wanted the illusion of banging their high school sweethearts.

   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 tall 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 newly wed and Boston College accounting major.  She
had lost a little weight and her body looked harder, firmer than it had
been, but the cheerleading 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 that 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 her 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
slave girl, 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 track
lights 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.  She 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 it 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 her pride to ever 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
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.  Up country."

   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 CandLand, 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 CandLand?

   "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 a lot at
CandLand." 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 up country 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 of 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 up country, 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, up country."

   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 Joy Town.  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 Joy Town'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, hardcore ones who were normally
jaded by even the animal acts were packing the place.  My curiosity shot up
a notch when the music came on.  Mendelson's Wedding March.



   Part 4/4



   From backstage, Vopat emceed 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 top hat, a
fake mustache grease painted 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 Megan.  Some catcalls now.

   The bride.

   As the last strains of the Wedding March recording faded, Tam met her
bride and lifted the veil.  Megan'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 Megan dutifully
returned with equal, if insincere, lust.  Tam's hand fondled the white
laced back side 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!" Megan 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 Megan 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. 
Megan closed her eyes and played along, bucking her ass against her
'husband's' mid-section and moaning lustily whenever Tam's hands squeezed
her pale flesh.

   Then Tam's hands toyed with Megan's bra covered 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.  Megan 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 Megan'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.

   Megan 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 slave girl 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.  Megan 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

   Megan 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. Megan 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 rock hard.

   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 it's agreement with a collective chuckle and Tam nodded.  The
first five brought the expected tears, but after that the singing bamboo
propelled Megan 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 Megan'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 top hat letting all her black hair flow down, revealing her
not too secret femininity.

   It was Megan'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 Megan's ass.  The laughter rose again like a
wave as the white girl struggled against her cuffs to escape the oncoming
dildo.

   Tam gripped Megan'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, Megan 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
Megan's ear.  The effect was instantaneous.  Megan 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!" Megan 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 Megan 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."

   <1st attachment end>

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