PARKER28.TXT -- 1/3
A BANGKOK SLAVER'S STORY
Part 1 of 3
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story is kind of strong. It features scenes of
non-consensual sex and other sordid activities of a similar
vein. If this repulses or disgusts you, read no further. I
mean it!
NOTE: This story is a sequel of sorts to my own story
DOCTOR'S ORDERS (Parker #5) and Marlissa's two Bangkok
Slaver stories. I will not repost those stories, but others
might. Many thanks to Marlissa for (a) allowing me to use
her characters and (b) for the helpful comments.
Copyright 1996 by Parker (except for the bits that belong to
Marlissa). Feel free to distribute (unchanged of course), but
please be discrete.
=================================================================
A drop fell...
"Damn."
Too late, the cop reached back with a clumsy, black-gloved hand and tried
to brush away the icy drop as it beaded momentarily and then trickled a numbing
path down his back. Muttering under his breath, he looked up to see another
drop congeal on the end of an icicle on the doorjamb above his head. The icicle
shimmered a garish red and blue under the flashing police light, as it melted,
weeping hysterically in the unseasonably warm February night. Bored and tired -
too much overtime - the cop reached up and knocked it away, sniffing as it
cracked loose and shattered on the concrete porch.
"Who's in charge here?"
Startled, the cop looked up. The speaker was a man of medium height, with
dark black hair and ice grey eyes.
The cop frowned. "Detective Lomann," he grunted. "Who are you?"
The black haired man had already pulled out some identification and was
flipping it open: "Agent Harrison Crawford, FBI".
The cop swallowed.
He'd heard of Agent Crawford.
Everyone had.
"Go right in, sir." He stepped aside. "Lomann said to send you right
downstairs." The FBI agent slipped the identification back into to his pocket
and entered the house. Behind and above him, another icicle began to weep.
It was in the basement.
All of it.
First and foremost, the body... laid out on its back, half stuck in dried
blood to the hard, gore-streaked linoleum. Agent Crawford crouched down beside
it, his grey eyes coldly tracing the precise straight red lines which
criss-crossed the corpse's exposed chest, each one representing a meticulously
shallow incision; the blue and red ligature marks and crusty, ripped skin which
encircled the corpse's leg and ankles; the open, lipless mouth, frozen in
mid-wail, dull teeth and yellowing, blood- flecked cheek bones exposed through
the strip torn flesh of the lips and face.
The man hadn't died quickly.
"Looks like it was done by an expert."
Crawford looked up. The speaker was a short, heavy man with a thick,
greying moustache.
Detective Lomann.
The FBI agent looked back down at the body as a police camera flash froze
the corpse's image in celluloid. "It was," he answered, his voice harsh and
bleak. "A doctor."
Another flash.
"It's her, then?" Lomann was almost afraid to ask.
Crawford nodded.
"Yeah." He got to his feet. "Does our friend here have a name?"
The Boston PD detective checked his notes. "Donald Linsky. Thirty four.
Unmarried. The neighbours called it in a couple of house ago. Their kid knocked
a ball into the yard and looked in the window." The FBI agent looked over at
the window, curtains now closed, imagining the sight which had greeted the
unfortunate child. Knowing what he knew about who had done this, he suspected
that the drapes had been left open on purpose.
"How long's he been dead?"
"At least a few days, is my guess. Forensics is on the way." The cop
looked down at the body. "So it looks familiar?"
Crawford grimaced. "It's her." He looked around the basement. "Any
connection to my... uh, work? "
Lomann nodded at a doorway at the back of the room.
Crawford scanned the room. This clinched it as far as he was concerned.
She was involved.
Dr. Jacqueline Astor.
The grey, unfinished concrete walls were studded with hooks and braces,
each one draped with chains and collars and other less benign instruments of
restraint. A rack had been placed on the opposite wall, boasting dozens of
different kinds of sex toys, ranging from dildoes and but plugs to a massive,
menacing vibrator. A large, yellow stained mattress sat on the floor in the
centre of the room. A slender chain ran up from an O-ring in the concrete
beside the mattress and ended in a leather dog collar.
Crawford glanced over his shoulder at the cop. "What did you say this guy
did?"
The cop checked his notes. "Insurance."
"Figures."
He turned and began to walk around the room.
"I figured this was more your line," Lomann called after him.
Crawford ignored him, his eyes taking in the room: the small, plastic dog
dish on the floor beside the mattress...
His line...
"...and the pictures."
Of course.
Crawford reached in and pulled a sheaf of photographs out of a manila
folder. He shuddered slightly as he quickly scanned them: a tall, thin redhead
with wild hair and small breasts, crouched down with her legs spread wide,
grinning horribly at the cum dripping out of her gaping pussy... the same girl,
a closeup of her heavily made up face, her tongue licking sperm off her upper
lip... the redhead on all fours in a dog collar, smiling at the camera while an
unidentified male kneeled behind her, his penis half inserted into her vag...
no, her anus... the redhead, tears streaming down her face, as she shoved the
monster dildo into her gaping pussy...
The FBI agent mentally compared the pictures with the ones he'd seen of
his sister, Nikki, after she'd disappeared. Similar in many ways, but... He
sighed and returned the pictures to the envelope. He didn't need to see any
more.
"Well?" Lomann looked at him expectantly.
Crawford shook his head. "No. The girl isn't her work. I don't know where
she came from, but I don't think Astor was involved. At least, not with the
pictures."
Lomann frowned. "How do you...".
"It just isn't. Linsky - the body - was her. The girl wasn't. I don't know
how Astor got involved."
"OK."
"No sigh of the girl, I take it?"
The policeman shook his head.
Crawford glanced around. "Anything else?"
"Yeah." Lomann walked over to the desk and picked up a piece of paper.
"This."
The FBI agent took the paper. A letter... from someone named Jackson. In
Bangkok. A polite, carefully worded refusal of a business proposition and a
number for local assistance.
Crawford stared. He recognized the number.
He'd recently traced it to an empty, recently vacated office in downtown
Boston. It *was* her.
He looked down at the letter.
But what was the connection with Astor?
Jackson.
Bangkok...
*****
*****
... scratches at the hurt that sent him home... purple heart...
...means nothing... seeing Danielle and little Cassie again... a
charred picture... (notsolittleanymore) ... smiling blonde
faces... picket fences, blowing in the wind...
(neverforgetnever)
Careful drunken walk... something... something smells...
familiar... burning hair (neverforgetthatsmell)... napalm...
burning... hair... burning... (never) drunken run... stumble...
...smiling blonde faces (lookslikehermother)... smiling blonde...
...young Sarah sobbed as her small pink tongue lapped...
(looksalotlikehermother)
no... not right... giggling fire lapps hungrily up the side of...
(neverforget)... smoke... burning smell...
(Neverforgetifiliveathousandyears)
Burning... twisting...
...lick her daughter's lips in wanton surrender... Danielle...
Cassie... (smilingblondelooks)
... smoke pouring out third story... smoke pouring... red blue
police lights bounce off walls... hoses... twisting...
(neverforgetif)
...Annie's head began rolling crazily about like a doll's...
Cassie's (nothatsnotrightnotcassienevercassie) small elfin face
was contorted in hurt....
smells... burning hair... (thatsmell...)
Danielle...
CASSIE!...
smiling blonde faces...
Annie leered, whorishly happy...
(looksalotlikehermother)
Mother and daughter had finally...
bright flames lick... look around in red blue night... crowd,
open mouthed, staring... Danielle's face leering whorishly in the
dancing firelight... (no) DANIELLE!...
BAM!
...their breasts bobbed up and down in unison as they squat-
fucked themselves...
DANIELLE...
(looksalotlikehermother)
(never)
daughter's servicing...
burning... burning...
... she too licked at her daughter's trim pink cunt...
burning...
Danielle...
...(neverforget)
Cassie... Sarah...
BAM!
blondesmilingfacesneverforgetif...
BAM!
I woke up.
The threadbare blanket was drenched in sweat and my heart shuddered
frantically in my chest.
Fuck.
That dream again. I hadn't had that dream in years, then suddenly six
months ago, it started up. I'd almost managed to forget...
BAM!
"Mr. Jackson!"
Someone was pounding at my thin wooden door. From the sound of it, they'd
soon be knocking it in. I slipped out of bed and into a shirt and pants. Not
clean, but good enough to cover me and soak away the worst of the sweat as I
walked towards the door. I was proud of myself. My breathing was steady and my
hands had almost stopped shaking by the time I got there.
It was one of Vopat's goons. No surprise there, I guess. There aren't many
people who refer to me as 'Mr' anything these days. Vopat and his people are
about it. Over the past few years, I've supplied him with more than enough,
well, product to earn a little respect.
Yeah... that and fifty Baht will get me a beer at Candyland, Vopat's club.
Which was where we were going.
Vopat wanted to meet.
It was only a little past noon, but Candyland was already hopping. I don't
think I've ever seen it closed. The tables were filled with the usual crowd...
local hoods and their bosses... assorted mercenaries... drug smugglers... gun
runners... foreign businessmen involved in shady deals or just in the know...
The bar girls mingled and pranced about as they had been trained to do,
giggling and flirting, enticing the men to buy them drinks and whispering lewd
promises in their ears...
As I said, the usual.
I looked around. Vopat was at the bar. He gestured for me to follow him
into his office. I obeyed, thankful to leave the main room as I caught a
glimpse of Roxanne Bodwell - Annie, now - the english stewardess I had
kidnapped for Vopat. Together with her teenage daughter Sarah, and Tam, Vopat's
whore trainer, she had been part of the hottest act in Joytown for over the
last several months. She was crouched down in front of a Japanese businessman
with her legs spread wide, running her hands obscenely up and down the front of
her body. I couldn't see her face, but I knew she would be showing a whore's
plastic smile (...blondesmilingfaces...) as her fingers slid suggestively over
her half-covered tits before dropping down under the flimsy panties and coming
to rest on her well used pussy. There would be no trace of the prim and proper
english stewardess who had arrived in Bangkok with her daughter just last
spring. Apart from her pale white skin, she was now just another Candyland bar
slut. The man reached down and slid a finger along her cheek. She turned her
head and, eyes closed, and on sucked it in, slowly running her lips along it
like it was the most delicious and exciting thing she'd ever done.
Right.
I stopped at the door and looked around the club.
Sarah Bodwell - Annie's daughter - was nowhere to be seen. The rumour mill
had it that Vopat had sold her to Colonel Chou for some fantastic amount. I
wondered what Vopat was doing for a main act these days now that the Bodwells
were no longer performing together.
Then it occurred to me: that's why I was here.
I glanced over.
Annie was now straddling the businessman's lap, slowly gyrating her barely
concealed crotch at him while running a hand through her long, platinum blonde
hair. I thought about my dream (...neverforget...) for a moment and then shook
my head.
She didn't look a bit like Danielle, I told myself.
Not at all.
I walked into the back room.
I had been right.
Vopat was looking for a new act.
"You like this one, Joe," he told me, more animated than I'd ever seen him
before. "Good job. Easy job for you."
I took a sip of my Klosters, stalling for time to think things through.
He'd outdone himself this time. Three girls. He wanted three. And it sounded
like he already had them lined up.
"Let me understand what you want," I told him. "You have a line on three
American girls. You've already arranged to have them picked up at the airport.
Everything's in place."
He nodded happily.
"And you want me to..." I left it dangling.
"Supervise, Joe. You a pro. See that it done right. Easy job for you. I
set it up. You make sure it goes right. Easy job."
It made sense, I guess.
It still worried me though that the job was coming together like this. The
few times I'd worked for Vopat before, he had just told me what he'd wanted and
I'd provided it to him. Simple. With me in control of the job. Something was
strange about this one. He'd found out about the targets. He'd set it up. And
now he wanted me to follow through and finish the job. There was something else
going on here I didn't know about.
I decided to see how much he needed me. "50,000 Baht," I told him, naming
an outrageous amount. There was no way he'd agree to that, but I just...
"Good." Vopat nodded. "We have a deal."
I sat for a moment, stunned, a cold sick feeling in my stomach. 50,000
Baht? Just for supervising?
Something was wrong here.
Very wrong.
And I'd just agreed to do it.
Still grinning, Vopat shoved a manila file folder across the desk at me.
"Take a look, Joe. It happen next week. If you want to make change...".
I took the folder and stood to leave the room.
I glanced around on my way out. Luckily, Annie and her Japanese business
man were nowhere to be seen.
Not that it mattered.
She looked nothing like Danielle.
I went through the folder in my room.
The three girls were a good catch. And an unusual one. Two lawyers and a
paralegal from a San Francisco law firm, Stanford Fisher Lawrence. According to
Vopat's information, they were on their way to Hong Kong to set up a branch
office - immigration and that sort of thing; a booming business with 1997
swiftly approaching - and were stopping off in Bangkok for a few days to see
the sites.
The oldest of the three was a woman Janice Stanford.
A partner at the firm.
Stanford?
I checked the file. Sure enough, her father, R. Terrance Stanford III, was
the founding member and senior partner in the firm. According to the Vopat's
informant, she was 29 years old and had just been made a partner. I'm sure
having a father as a founding member didn't hurt.
The folder included a picture. She was tall... a redhead according to the
background information. High cheekbones and large, intelligent eyes. The
picture was in black and white, but I guessed those eyes were green. Long legs
and what appeared through the conservative business suit to be large, well
formed breasts, made her a first rate catch for Vopat.
The other two were no less valuable.
Melissa Andersonn, a fresh faced law school graduate who had just passed
her bar exam (on the second try), had been hired by Stanford Fisher Lawrence to
work in their new Hong Kong office. She was 24 years old, obviously of
scandinavian descent, a tall, willowy girl with light blonde hair and pale
skin.
She'd do well at Vopat's.
The paralegal was the youngest of the three, a 23 year old pale brunette
named Amanda Green. She'd been with the firm for three years, working as a
secretary while taking some sort of night school. She'd just been promoted to
paralegal and, like Melissa, was on her way to her first job in that capacity.
According to Vopat's information, she was 5'4" and weighed 105 lbs. The picture
just showed her face. She had a soft, friendly face with wide brown eyes under
a cloud of soft curls. Another beauty.
I put the folder down, lit up a Marlboro, and thought about the situation.
The girls were a real catch for Vopat. No doubt about it. I could see why Vopat
was so excited. But one thing still bothered me: they would be missed. They
were all employees of a major U.S. law firm which was expecting them in Hong
Kong three days after Vopat planned to abduct them. Usually, I set things up so
that the girls I recruit will not be missed. Once, I'd faked a bus crash in the
jungle. Another time, I'd arranged matters so that the husband believed that
his wife had run off with another man. Standard stuff.
But there was no way to do it with these girls. According to Vopat's plan,
they would arrive at the Bangkok airport and simply disappear. Without a doubt,
Bangkok would soon be seeing the biggest police action in its history, probably
even some sort of international incident. I doubted that even Joytown would
escape scrutiny.
And I would be right in the middle of it.
Still...
I picked up the folder and started going through Vopat's plan. If I was
going to do it, I was going to do it right.
The pictures really hadn't done any of them justice.
I looked out over my newspaper, watching as the three women walked into
the terminal. Stanford, the redhead, was obviously the leader of the group.
With an imperious shake of her dark red shoulder length hair, she directed the
other two girls to grab the luggage. Smugly, I noted that I had been right; her
eyes were green. Melissa and Amanda did as they were told. The blonde girl
slung a carry-on over her shoulder and tugged a large suitcase along the floor
behind her like a dog on a leash. The brunette was even more loaded down.
"There he is. That way!" The redhead's voice, loud and commanding, carried
across the terminal to where I watched as she noticed the man in the
chauffeur's uniform carrying a sign which read "Stanford". With only one light
bag on her shoulder, the redhead gestured for the other two girls to follow her
as she reached the Thai man and spoke a few words to him. He nodded and led
them out of the terminal towards the waiting limousine.
Vopat's limousine.
In the end, I changed almost nothing of Vopat's original plan. Just a bit
here and there. Vopat's driver was to pick the targets up from the airport. The
real driver had been knocked unconscious and drugged. He would be waking up
some time tomorrow in his home with a hell of a hangover. We'd also left 20,000
baht hidden under his mattress. He wouldn't find it, but no doubt the cops
would when they came looking. He knew nothing about the kidnapping, but he'd
have a hell of a time convincing the cops of that after they found the cash.
That was one of my touches.
The air conditioner in the limousine was disconnected. The girls would
soon be taking advantage of the (working) refrigerator and the ice cold bottled
water. It had been drugged and I figured the girls would be unconscious within
an hour of Vopat's limousine getting stuck in traffic. As it turned out, the
traffic was a little worse than we'd planned and it took almost two hours for
the limousine, with me following behind in my nondescript mercedes, to get to
Vopat's dockside warehouse. I pulled in behind as two of Vopat's men slid the
loading door closed behind us.
The switch went smoothly. The girls were gagged, handcuffed and moved to
my car. At Vopat's instructions, Melissa and Amanda were stuffed into the trunk
and Janice ended up on the back seat with a blanket covering her. I figured
Vopat wanted to protect the most valuable piece of merchandise, though I
disagreed with his choice. The redhead was stunning, but the blonde girl, with
her fair skin and firm breasts, was a gold mine. I shrugged as the trunk closed
shut on my unconscious passengers.
Vopat's property.
His choice.
Tam was waiting for me when I parked the mercedes in the small garage in
back of Vopat's club. The young Thai whore trainer was dressed in her usual
"welcome" outfit: tight, black lycra skirt, black bikini top, five inch
heels... she had even added a pair of leather wristbands and a black collar. I
almost laughed. Vopat must have been springing for the S&M videos again; she
was such a caricature.
"You bring new girls, Joe?" she asked, her blue eyes almost glowing with
excitement. "Show me."
I just grunted.
There was no love lost between me and Tam.
I unlocked the trunk. Tam looked in and giggled at the sight of the two
american girls, lying unconscious, gagged and handcuffed. She hated Americans,
particularly the women. The whore trainer reached down and fondled Melissa's
light blonde hair. "This one very beautiful," she told me. "Make lots of
friends." I grimaced, painfully aware of what kind of "friends" Melissa would
be making at Candyland. After a moment, Tam straightened up and turned to me.
"Bring girls into Vopat's office," she ordered.
I started to object to her giving orders, but stopped.
No use.
I looked around for some help in transporting the girls, but Tam just
walked out of the garage and there was no one else in sight. Sighing, I picked
up the first girl, the blonde one, slung her over my shoulder and carried her
across the garage, through a hallway and into Vopat's private office. She was
moaning softly through her gag by the time I got her there, so I took the
precaution of clipping her handcuffs to one of the small rings hanging from the
ceiling. Her eyes began to flutter open as I turned to head back to the garage.
I hoisted the brunette from the car and retraced the path into Vopat's
office. By the time I entered the room, the blonde girl was fully awake, and
quickly becoming acquainted with her new mistress. I stopped in the doorway for
a moment, fascinated at the sight.
Melissa was standing, fully extended, half on her toes as the handcuffs
forced her thin, pale wrists high above her head. She had been wearing her
light blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun, but Tam had pulled this loose and
it now fell light and flaxen to her shoulders. The Thai woman stood behind the
terrified captive, one bare arm circling around the girl's waist to hold her
steady while the other slid underneath the suit jacket to squeeze the girl's
breasts through the thin fabric of her light grey blouse. I could see the young
lawyer's soft blue eyes, wide and darting with fear, as Tam leaned forward and
whispered something in her ears. I knew what she was saying; I had said such
things often enough myself. The girl's captive hands fluttered in panic as the
Thai girl explained her future in crude, broken english. She let out a moan,
wiggling frantically in Tam's grip. Tam laughed and nipped at her ear, still
whispering.
The brunette stirred in my grip.
Distracted, I moved forward and locked her cuffs to another ceiling ring.
She moaned and began to awake as the pain from her cuffed wrists dragged her
slowly into consciousness.
Tam giggled.
I turned. The blonde girl was crying now. Tam had moved around in front of
her and was lapping the tears from her cheeks. The blue eyes found my own and
stared appealingly.
"Ahw... ahw...".
Help, in gagspeak.
Tam looked at me and let out another giggle.
"Joe no help," she sneered.
I looked away as Vopat entered the room. He surveyed the two girls hanging
from the ceiling and then turned to me. "Three girls, Joe?" I nodded and left
the room to fetch the redhead from the garage.
By the time I got back, Tam had pulled open Melissa's blouse and was
playing happily with the blonde girl's firm breasts. There had evidently been
some trouble, as Melissa sported an angry red mark on her cheek. Amanda was
fully awake, brown eyes wide and staring. She hadn't yet been molested, but I
didn't expect that to last much longer.
Vopat was seated behind his desk. "Just lay her on the floor, Joe," he
told me, gesturing at the redhead. I glanced at the third ceiling ring, but did
as I was told.
"Tam."
The Thai girl gave Melissa's breasts one last playful squeeze and then
walked over the unconscious redhead. Leaning over, she pulled a vial from... I
don't know where... and waved it under her nose. Almost immediately, the
woman's eyes popped open. Tam undid the gag, stood up and backed away,
watching as the redhead sat up and then looked around.
"About time," she muttered. She didn't seem frightened. Or even surprised.
I stared.
What the hell was going on?
The office was silent except for the blonde's panicked sobs as Janice
Stanford struggled to her feet and turned to Vopat. "Well," she said, rattling
her handcuffs. "Aren't you going to take these off."
Vopat gestured and Tam moved forward with the key.
What the hell...
END CHAPTER ONE
=================================================================
As usual, all comments are welcome.
PARKER28.TXT -- 2/3
A BANGKOK SLAVER'S STORY
Part 2 of 3
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story is kind of strong. It features scenes of
non-consensual sex and other sordid activities of a similar
vein. If this repulses or disgusts you, read no further. I
mean it!
NOTE: This story is a sequel of sorts to my own story
DOCTOR'S ORDERS (Parker #5) and Marlissa's two Bangkok
Slaver stories. I will not repost those stories, but others
might. Many thanks to Marlissa for (a) allowing me to use
her characters and (b) for the helpful comments.
Copyright 1996 by Parker (except for the bits that belong to
Marlissa). Feel free to distribute (unchanged of course), but
please be discrete.
=================================================================
"This is my daughter's life we're talking about here."
Assistant Director Hender sighed. "Sir, I understand that."
"I don't think you do."
"I agree with Mr. Stanford." Lance Hender turned to see Philip Kennedy,
Janice Stanford's fiance. "It's just too risky. They've asked for..."
"I don't need you're support, boy," the older man interrupted. "I'm quite
capable of handling this myself."
"Yes sir." Kennedy looked down.
R. Terrance Stanford III turned his attention back to the two FBI men
seated across the desk in front of him. The older one, Lance Hender, shifted
uncomfortably in his seat and looked away. The younger, Harrison Crawford, just
stared, unblinking.
"Sir..."
"Gentlemen," Stanford continued, interrupting Hender, "I've made up my
mind. I can afford the money. Won't even notice it's gone. I'm going to follow
instructions and send Philip to Bangkok with the money tomorrow. That'll be the
end of it."
"But sir," Hender tried again, "we have reason to believe that...".
"I'll hear no more about it."
The room fell silent for a moment.
Stanford nodded. "Now, if there's nothing..."
"Mr. Stanford." Crawford spoke for the first time since entering the room.
"I've dealt with these people before. Let me tell you what's going to happen."
"I told you..."
"Your future son in law will disappear. With the diamonds. His body may
turn up in a Bangkok gutter somewhere. Maybe not." Philip Kennedy looked away,
his face white. "And neither your daughter nor the other two girls will be seen
again. At least not in person."
Stanford frowned. "If you think..."
"But you will get pictures." Crawford leaned forward, grey eyes burning.
"You will see your lovely daughter fucking dozens of men and women in every
possible way, all the time moaning and smiling for the camera like the eager
whore she'll have become. After a while, you'll see videos - the same videos
that'll be for sale on the black market and under the counter at your local
video store - of her with dogs... horses... donkeys... whatever sick act they
think they can sell..."
"Harrison..."
Hender put a hand on the younger man's arm, but Crawford ignored him. "And
after she's too fucked out to make them any money in the video market or as a
whore, they'll prepare her for the freak market. Rings... mutilation...
amputation... "
"Stop it!"
Kennedy looked like he was about to throw up. "And then one day... maybe a
year, maybe two... your finally get lucky. And they'll stop."
The room fell silent.
Stanford's face was damp with perspiration as he stared at the FBI agent.
Crawford took a deep breath. "You see, sir, I know these people. Better
than anyone. They... my sister was... taken..." The FBI agent's voice broke for
a moment, but he quickly regained control. "... and I know - I *know* - what's
going to happen. What you're going to go through if you don't give us a chance.
Give me a chance to stop them."
Stanford turned away and stared for a moment out the tinted window at the
city. Finally, he spoke: "what do you have in mind?"
Hender sighed as the elevator doors slid shut. "Don't you think that was a
little much in there?"
Crawford looked over at him. "Huh?"
"The monologue," Hender explained. "A little over the top?"
"No."
"We don't even know for sure that the kidnapping is connected to this
Jackson character."
"It is," Crawford stated grimly. "It is."
*****
I was so pissed off at Vopat for not letting me in on the purpose of his
little kidnap scheme it was three days before I sobered up enough to remember
the money I'd been promised. Maybe I could get it and get the hell out of
Bangkok before all hell broke loose. So I went back to Candyland. The bartender
told me that Vopat was away on some kind of business but that I could wait in
the office. I grabbed a Klosters for the hangover and went through the door at
the back of the club.
She was there. The redhead.
The one who'd set whole thing up.
She looked up at me as I entered the room. "Through sulking, I see," she
sneered. I just stared at her. God, she looked good. Her thick red hair was
combed back from her face in a wave and was held in place with a large beret.
She was wearing a knee length green skirt and a dark yellow blouse which set
off her green eyes perfectly. Sexy as hell.
For some reason, I hated the bitch.
"I'm looking for Vopat," I told her, taking a mouthful of beer.
She smiled. "He'll be back."
I shrugged and fell back onto Vopat's old couch.
Still smiling, she crossed her arms and walked slowly towards me. "Vopat
tells me you're an American."
"Vopat talks too much." I took another mouthful of beer and then looked up
at her. "Yeah," I admitted. "I'm from the States. Haven't been there in a long
time."
"I know. You're english sounds... odd. Unused."
I thought about it for a second and then shrugged again.
"Tell me," she said, now standing directly above me. "What made you become
a... a slaver, Vopat called it. Why do you..."
"I'm a businessman," I interrupted. "I do what I need to do for money.
That's all." I tried to take another mouthful of Klosters, but the bottle was
empty.
Shit.
"Oh, I don't believe that," she said mockingly. The redhead turned and
walked across the room. "It can't be just the money. There must be something
else." I watched, mesmerised, as she turned, leaned against Vopat's desk and
slowly ran her tongue across her upper lip. "You like it don't you... bringing
young girls into a..." She smirked. "... a fate worse than death."
I turned away.
She laughed.
"Want to see what Tam's training them for?"
"Pass."
Last thing I needed right now.
"Oh, come on." She walked up and kneeled down in front of me. I stared
into those bright green eyes. "A man like you... you'll like it." She brought
up a hand and caressed my cheek. God... it had been so long... "C'mon Joe." Her
voice was low and husky. "Let's watch."
How could I say no?
I got up and let her lead me across the room and through a small door into
an alcove Vopat had installed behind his office. It was no more than a small
chamber with a large glass window along one side in front of a desk. On the
other side of the window was the large mirror which covered one wall in the
next room. It was a large room, about the size of the stage in the club.
Tam's training room.
Melissa and Amanda stood fastened against a wall by a single set of
handcuffs to a metal hook. The blonde and the brunette were dressed identically
in cute little school girl outfits. The costumes seemed similar to those which
had been used in the Bodwell's mother daughter act: a white, short-sleeved
blouse (one or two sizes too small, of course, to emphasize their assets), a
grey, pleated skirt which dropped down to mid thigh and white knee socks. The
three inch heels were a little out of place, but worked nicely anyway. The
blonde girl had her flaxen hair done up in two girlish pony tails, one on each
side of her head; the brunette's was in a cascade of bouncy curls. Both girls
wore minimal makeup. A perfect school girl / slut outfit. Tam knew what she was
doing.
The room must have been miked, 'cause I could hear their heavy, uneven
breathing and occasional sobs from a small speaker into the wall of the alcove.
The breathing sounded a bit odd, so I took a closer look. Their eyes were a
little glazed. Tam had been using drugs. I turned to Janice to say something,
but she just shook her head and put her hand up to shut me up. "Wait for it."
On cue, a door opened and Tam walked in, dressed in her usual domanitrix
outfit, holding a leash with two of the largest german shepherds I'd ever seen
in my life. One the dogs let out a quiet bark when he saw the girls. One of the
girls, I think it was Melissa, moaned in fear. Tam laughed and scratched him
behind an ear.
I couldn't help it. "Shit. I don't believe it."
Beside me, Janice giggled and put her hand on my shoulder as if to stop me
from leaving. No danger of that. I was mesmerized, helpless even to look away.
Tam ordered the dogs to sit.
They did.
Smiling, she walked over to the sobbing girls. The Thai whore trainer
leaned forward to say a few quiet words. The brunette shook her head and Tam
punctuated her instructions with several well placed blows from her riding
crop. By the end of the "pep talk", both girls were nodding frantically, tears
running down their faces. The words "yes mistress Tam" sounded over and over
again came through the small speaker.
Janice giggled again. "They've been practising for three days now," she
told me.
Great.
Tam unfastened the girls from the wall and left them rubbing their wrists
as she walked quickly back over to the dogs. She took their leashes firmly in
hand and, after a quick glance to make certain her trainees were watching and
ready to go, she called out "now" and began walking the two dogs slowly across
the room.
Melissa and Amanda waited a few teary seconds and then began to move
towards Tam and the dogs, skipping and prancing like demented school girls.
"Hello mistress Tam," they called out in unison, voices pitched high like
children. "How are you, today?"
Tam opened her mouth in a wide "O" of surprise. "Why, hello Missy...
Mandy...". I almost laughed. If Tam weren't so serious about getting into the
role, it'd be almost ridiculous. As it was, there was something perversely
fascinating about the way she tried so hard to act out her parts in these
little shows she arranged for Vopat.
"How about a kiss for your mistress Tam?"
The two girls giggled happily and scurried towards Tam, pony tails
fluttering behind them. The blonde was first. She hesitated for a moment and
then brought her lips down to Tam's. The Thai woman closed her eyes and drew
the girl in for a long kiss that was anything but schoolgirlish. I saw tears in
Melissa's eyes as the kiss ended. Amanda was next. The brunette grimaced a bit,
but followed the act. Tam was taller than her, so she had to turn her head back
and go up on her toes as she parted her lips and accepted Tam's tongue into her
mouth. When the kiss was over, the brunette clasped her hand together and let
out a little squeal. "What a lovely kiss, mistress Tam."
"Oh yes," Melissa gushed, her blonde ponytails bouncing as she bobbed her
head up and down. "Can we have some more?"
Together: "We love to kiss our mistress Tam!"
Jesus Christ.
One of the dogs let out a bark.
Tam smiled. "You girls forget someone," she chided comically, nodding at
the dogs. "What about James and Rupert?"
I felt Janice's lips on my ear. "Melissa's husband's name is Rupert;
Amanda's fiance is James." I felt sick to my stomach, but I couldn't deny the
feeling in my groin as I felt the redhead brush my earlobe with her tongue.
I stared into the room.
"Oh! We're sorry!"
The two girls squealed in unison and fell to their knees in front of the
dogs. The blonde kneeled down in front of one of the dogs and took its face in
her hands. "Hi Rupert," she greeted, a wide, artificial smile plastered on her
face. The next words were almost strangled out: "Kissy for Missy?" The dog's
mouth was open, panting as it stared at her. Trembling, she brought her face
forward, twisted it sideways and... kissed the dog. Not a peck on the nose... a
long, passionate kiss which saw her suck the dog's tongue between her lips and
use her own tongue to explore the dog's mouth. Those dogs must have been
trained for this. I'd heard of an outfit in Germany that did it, but I'd never
seen one before. A thin line of drool dripped down and hung to the floor below
them as the crying blonde school girl and the german shepherd literally necked.
Tam turned and looked at the imaginary audience. "Missy kissy Rupert!" she
announced.
Then she looked at Amanda. The brunette was on her knees in front of the
other dog, but she had balked. Her smile had crumbled and she was sobbing on
the floor.
Tam frowned.
"Stop," she ordered. Melissa pulled away from the dog's mouth. The
blonde's chin was glistening and the front of her white blouse was soaked in
drool and spit from her extended kiss. She leaned over and retched quietly on
the floor, keeping her head down while Tam used the riding crop to discipline
her partner.
"Oh." Janice's breath grew heavy as we watched the brunette writhe and
squirm on the floor, desperately trying to avoid Tam's riding crop. I was more
than conscious of the redhead's body pushed up against mine, soft and warm.
After about ten minutes, Tam had her girl in line again.
"We start. From 'Missy kissy Rupert!'"
Melissa groaned, but she leaned forward obediently and brought her face
forward to the dog. The dog let out a bark and opened its mouth. Well trained.
They started to kiss again. I saw the girl's pink tongue dart out to explore
the dog's canines.
Beside her, the brunette sniffled, but obeyed, leaning forward and choking
out a greeting to the other dog - James - before kissing and then necking with
her dog. Tam watched for a few moments as the two moaning girls french kissed
their respective partners. She leaned down and whispered some instructions to
the blonde girl, readjusting their position so that the audience could get a
better view. Then she went over to the brunette and gave her a tap with the
riding crop, calling out a brief order. Moaning, the brunette sucked the dog's
tongue into her mouth.
Finally satisfied, Tam stood up and went back into character. "Oh my," she
cried out in mock surprise. "Girls make kissy face with dogs. I don't know they
such good friends!" She leered at the imaginary audience. "Let see how good
friends."
I imagined the crowd's reaction to this.
She looked down. "Girls, where your manners? That human greeting. Let dog
say hello too."
The two girls pulled away from the kiss and looked up at Tam. Amanda was
coughing, no doubt gagging on dog spit, but Melissa managed to choke out a
strangled "yes mistress Tam". The two girls maneuvered themselves until they
were facing each other on their knees and then brought their faces to the
floor, inches away from each other. Melissa was sobbing openly now.
Tam winked at the audience and then whispered a soft command to the dogs.
They immediately they went to work, each one running behind a girl, burrowing
its muzzle in one of the girls' crotch and starting to lick. Tam slipped out of
character and inspected the tableau. She walked slowly around, tapping the
girl's thighs, forcing them to spread their legs a little wider... flipping
each girls' skirt up with her riding crop so that audience could see their
naked asses. They weren't wearing underwear.
She watched the sobbing girls and their partners for a few moments and
then hissed out an angry command. Melissa immediately recovered her plastic
whore's smile and began to moan and whimper at the dog's attentions, slowly
bucking her pussy back and forth under his tongue. "Oh... Rupert... yes..." It
took a couple of swats with the riding crop, but Amanda was soon doing the
same. Tam watched critically, making comments and orders to improve their
performance. Soon, it looked like the girls were really getting into it.
Janice whispered to me: "Last year, Amanda got a lawyer at the firm fired
and disbarred for sexual harassment. Bet he'd pay to see this." I turned to say
something, but Janice brought her lips up to mine and kissed me. I didn't like
the woman, but I couldn't help myself. I slipped an arm around her and pulled
her close to me. It had been so long since a woman had been with me
willingly...
Janice was panting by the time we finished the kiss.
I felt the same way.
She dropped a hand down under her skirt and quickly slid her panties to
the floor. I undid my zipper as she reached down and pulled my cock free.
"Ohhh..." Janice moaned slightly as she ran her hand up and down, coaxing
it into more life than I'd experienced since Flatsee's expert ministrations. I
tried to kiss her again, but her attention was on the training room while her
fingers continued their work.
I watched too.
Tam barked out a brief command: "Strip."
Still moaning and whimpering with fake passion, the two girls reached up
and undid the fronts of their school girl blouses. In moments, the blouses were
opened and pulled back. Not surprisingly, neither girl was wearing a bra. Two
pairs of breasts - Melissa's small and firm, Amanda's large and soft - jiggled
and bobbled as the two girls writhed and bucked on the floor, all the time
moaning and smiling as the dogs worked at their pussies.
Smiling, Tam looked out at the audience, a look of comic surprise on her
face. "Very good friend indeed" she announced. "I wonder what they do next.
What you think?" She waited, looking out, for audience participation. She
pretended not to hear. "What? I not hear you." I had no doubt what the audience
would be suggesting at this point. "You think they... fuck?" Tam looked around,
giving the audience a moment to respond. "I ask girls," she said, finally.
"Maybe they not like. They white girls. Only real slut bitch fuck dogs."
She bent down and grabbed a handful of Melissa's light blonde hair. The
girl had stopped the comic panting and moaning during Tam's dialogue with the
audience, but had started up again as soon as the Thai whore trainer had turned
her attention back to her. Tam sneered as the blonde lawyer gasped and wiggled
her hips at the licking dog, desperate not to be punished for her lapse. "Missy
like dog?"
Eyes wide with panic, the blonde girl nodded frantically. "Missy like
dog," she moaned. "Missy like dog lickee." She let out a groan as Tam gripped
her hair and twisted. "Missy like dog lickee," she shouted.
Tam winked at the audience and then looked down again. "Missy fuck dog?"
The blonde groaned.
"Noooo..."
Tam tightened her grip. "Missy want dog prick in cunee?"
"Ohhh... yes... Missy want fuck dog."
I could barely hear her.
Beside me, Janice began to pant. She maneuvered herself so that she sat on
the edge of the desk, half facing the training room, skirt bunched up at her
waist.
"Joe..."
She pulled me in to her, encircling me with her legs. I moved forward as
she reached down and guided my cock straight into her open pussy.
She was wet and warm... and tight...
Tam reached underneath the blonde girl.
"Say louder."
Melissa twitched and screamed as the Thai woman viciously twisted her
nipple. "Missy fuck dog," she cried, tears running down her face. "Missy fuck
dog. Missy dog bitch... Missy want dog cock in cunee..."
Tam released her hold on the nipple and gave a short command to the dog.
Well trained, it obeyed instantly, raising its head from the blonde girl's
crotch and using its forelegs to climb on top. Melissa let out a moan of fear
as the animal used its hind legs to push itself forward on her back. Her arms
trembled with the added weight and a thin line of drool trickled out of her
open, panting mouth and drifted down to the padded floor.
Tam reached down and struck an exposed breast with her riding crop. "Keep
shout!"
"Missy fuck dog... Missy fuck dog...".
The german shepherd was in place, its forelegs resting squarely on the
blonde girl's shoulders. Growling, it began to hump its crotch against the
shouting girl's pussy.
"Missy fuck dog... Missy fuck dog..."
I could see the dog's cock bobbing in and out from between her thighs as
the animal tried in vain to find the target. Tam kneeled down, grabbed one of
Melissa's hands and guided it down towards the dog's cock. "You help," she
ordered. "Missy bitch help dog fuck." The Thai woman wrapped the blonde's
fingers around the dog's thrusting cock and then let go. "You help dog fuck."
Melissa's eyes went wide with panic at the feel of the dog's cock in her hand,
but she didn't miss a beat. "Missy bitch fuck dog... Missy bitch help dog
fuck..." Her mindless, panting cries continued as she pushed and wiggled the
dog's cock up against her pussy until finally...
"Aiieeeee..."
The dog let out a yelp of triumph as it buried its cock to the hilt in the
blonde's wide open pussy. Tam brought the riding crop down once... then twice
on the writhing girl. "Missy fuck dog," she ordered. "Fuck dog."
With a groan, Melissa braced herself and began to fuck back against the
dog as it rammed its cock in and out of her pussy. Another blow with the riding
crop brought a lewd, whore's smile to her face along with renewed cries of
"Missy fuck dog... Missy bitch fuck dog cock..."
I'd seen enough.
I turned and concentrated on fucking the redhead in front of me. Her
attention, however, was fastened on the room, green eyes glowing as the
sequence of events was repeated with the brunette. Her legs pulled me in tight
as and she bucked back at me as cries of "Mandy fuck dog... Mandy bitch fuck
big dog cock in cunee..." rang out from the training room, mixing in with
Melissa's moans and cries of fake lust and the occasional bark from the dogs.
Janice turned to me, grinning mockingly as I did my best to ignore what was
going on in the other room.
"Mandy fuck dog..."
"Missy dog fuck bitch..."
The screams from the other room grew louder and louder. The dogs began to
bark and growl as I increased the force of my strokes. Janice laughed and held
me tighter around the shoulders, enjoying the ride with her eyes fixed on the
training room. Soon, I was thrusting as hard as I could, trying to pound that
mocking smile off her face...
"Missy fuck..."
"Mandy..."
"Fuck me Joe," she whispered, a mocking smile on her face as she turned
towards me and ran a hot, pink tongue along my lips. "Janice fuckee Joe
bitch..."
I lost it.
My consciousness narrowed and shrunk away until it encompassed no more
that those two, mocking green eyes and the two square inches at her crotch.
Those eyes burned at me as I pounded and bucked, trying to... I don't know...
trying to crush her... to destroy the bitch... I felt my cock expanding...
becoming enormous inside her... swelling up... stiffening...
"Ahhhh...."
"Joe."
My eyes closed as I stiffened...
I knew that her eyes, green and mocking, stayed open...
I don't know how long it was before I opened my eyes and stepped away.
"Mmmmm..." Janice reached down and massaged her pussy. "That was
delicious, Joe." I shoved my cock back in my pants and turned away, not saying
anything. I felt filthy.
Janice giggled.
Back in the training room, the dogs were finished their business. The two
girls were in a 69 position, sobbing and lapping at the dog cum which ran
rivers from each others' sopping pussies while Tam rubbed the dogs behind the
ears, and grinned happily.
After a while, she clapped her hand and the two girls scrambled away from
each other and onto all fours. "You not girls now. Only real slut bitch fuck
dogs. You doggies, right? Bitch doggies."
"Yes mistress Tam," they squealed, eyes bright with tears. "Mandy... Missy
bitch doggie now... ruff... ruff...". The two girls started barking as Tam,
grabbed a bag from a corner of the room and pulled two objects from inside. She
held them up for what would not doubt be an appreciative audience. Two long dog
tails, one blonde and one brunette. Fastened to a large, black but plug.
"Doggies need tail," she announced moving behind the two girls. Their
pathetic barking raised in pitch as the Thai woman slid the but plugs inside
their exposed asses and moved away. "Wag tail, bitch doggies," she commanded.
Still smiling... still barking, the two girls eagerly wagged their obscene new
tails back and forth. Tam grabbed some more stuff from her bag and soon had the
girls collared and leashed. She whistled and the two german shepherds came
running. After a brief sniff at the crotches of the two girls, the dogs were
soon leashed themselves.
Tam looked over at the audience and gave an exaggerated shrug. "I guess
Tam have four doggies now." She looked at the two girls. Then she reached down
and slowly, deliberately patted each girl on the head: the ultimate Thai
insult, touching someone's spiritual centre. But the girls didn't complain.
Amanda just barked and wagged her tail at the audience; Melissa let out a
strangled yelp and stuck her nose in Rupert's ass, sniffing happily.
Tam laughed.
"I take home now," she announced. "Put in kennel. With two bitches, I soon
have lots of little pups." With a grin and a final flick of her leash, she led
the four pets off the stage.
I sighed.
Tam had outdone herself. Vopat had another winner.
Not to mention his cut of the ransom money.
"Enjoy the show?"
I looked over at Janice. The redhead had let her skirt fall back to her
knees, but her eyes were still glazed over with lust and her breathing was
heavy. "Wanna... go again?"
Disgusted... with her... with myself, I turned and left the alcove and
walked into Candyland. I heard Janice laugh as I shut the door.
Vopat was nowhere to be seen, evidently not back yet. Across the room, I
saw Annie going down on a customer, her metallic blonde hair glistening in the
low, club light. I growled something at the bartender and stormed out the club.
END CHAPTER TWO
=================================================================
All comments welcome as usual.
PARKER28.TXT -- 3/3
A BANGKOK SLAVER'S STORY
Part 3 of 3
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story is kind of strong. It features scenes of
non-consensual sex and other sordid activities of a similar
vein. If this repulses or disgusts you, read no further. I
mean it!
NOTE: This story is a sequel of sorts to my own story
DOCTOR'S ORDERS (Parker #5) and Marlissa's two Bangkok
Slaver stories. I will not repost those stories, but others
might. Many thanks to Marlissa for (a) allowing me to use
her characters and (b) for the helpful comments.
Copyright 1996 by Parker (except for the bits that belong to
Marlissa). Feel free to distribute (unchanged of course), but
please be discrete.
=================================================================
Philip Kennedy paced back and forth nervously in the hotel room. Despite
the air conditioning, the young man was sweating profusely in the humid Bangkok
air. Every few minutes, he glanced over at the locked briefcase which sat on a
table beside the bed, checked his watch, and then resumed pacing.
"Don't get so worked up. Nothing's going to happen until the exchange
tomorrow." Kennedy's eyes narrowed as he looked at the other man in the room.
Crawford.
The FBI agent.
"Easy for you to say," he answered angrily. "It's not your fiance on the
line."
"I know how you feel."
"You don't have a fucking clue how I feel."
Crawford's face went blank.
Nikki.
"I do know."
He reached up and patted the 9mm Browning he'd arranged to pick up once he
had cleared customs.
*****
I didn't want to go back, but I really needed the money.
Candyland was packed. I had deliberately chosen a busy time, hoping to
avoid Janice in the crowd. No luck. She was sitting on the couch in Vopat's
office next to Tam when I walked in. The brunette - Amanda - was on all fours,
naked but for her leather collar and wagging brown tail, her pretty face buried
in the redhead's crotch. Melissa was set up the same way between Tam's legs.
The two novice whores lapped and slurped hungrily. Tam's riding crop explained
their enthusiasm. Vopat sat behind his desk, a smile on his face as he watched
his two new recruits demonstrate their obedience.
"Have a seat, Joe."
I was tempted to turn around and walk away, but I didn't want to look like
a complete idiot. And, as I said, I needed the money. Trying to ignore my
surroundings, I sat down and stared at Vopat across his desk. "You owe me," I
told him. "50,000."
He nodded, still smiling. "I pay. You know that, Joe. But first, we make
comfort and talk other business."
"Vopat..."
"I insist, Joe."
He clapped his hand.
Tam giggled.
Annie walked into the room. Her face was heavily made up under wild,
blonde hair and she was dressed in the standard bar girl outfit: thong bikini,
cheap plastic pumps... but for her pale white skin and blue eyes, she was just
another bar girl. Just another whore.
"Vopat want Annie?" she asked. Her british accent sounded ridiculous when
she spoke like that.
"Serve our guest," Vopat told her, nodding at me.
"Vopat...". What the fuck was he doing? "No. I don't want..."
He ignored me. "If Joe not come in ten minutes, I give you to Tam for
punishment. Twenty lashes."
"Twenty five," Tam called, bringing the crop down Melissa's bare ass for
punctuation. The blonde girl yelped, let out a couple of muffled barks and then
buried her face back in her mistress's pussy.
I stared at Vopat as the ex-stewardess scurried over, slung one long, bare
leg over my lap and began to grind her hips into me. "You not like Annie," she
pouted, thrusting her breasts in my face. "Annie make you come good." Her
expression changed to a leer. "Annie fuckee fuckee." She reached down and began
to rub my hardening cock through my pants. Vopat grinned. He knew I didn't want
to do it, but he also knew I didn't want to be responsible for twenty five
strokes. I stared at the desperate blonde slut writhing and whimpering on my
lap, the last part of my (...blondesmilingfaces...) dream flickering through my
mind like (...neverforgetnever...) an obscene movie.
Danielle.
"You fuck Annie?"
I gave up.
"On your knees," I told her. I felt sick to my stomach. "Suck."
Her face hardened as she dropped to her knees and coaxed my cock free from
my pants with experienced fingers. I couldn't help but moan as she sucked it in
and slowly swallowed it down her throat until her nose was buried in my pubic
hair. Eight months at Candyland had made a talented cocksucker out of the ex-
stewardess.
"Now," Vopat smiled. "We talk business."
Turned out they needed me again.
Something had gone wrong with their plans to pick up the ransom money and
they needed someone to go through the motions of exchanging the girls for the
money. Purely for show.
I wanted nothing to do with it.
I said so.
Annie let out a gasp of fake passion from my lap.
Vopat offered me a hell of a lot of money.
I agreed to do it.
Janice giggled as I stiffened and came in Annie's mouth. The blonde woman
moaned and sucked it all down like the experienced whore she was.
*****
The pickup took place the next day.
I made one last check before going in. The van was parked half a block
from the street amidst the piled garbage in an alley just off Joytown. Almost
the real world. The three girls were in the back. Melissa and Amanda were naked
except for their leather dog collars and red ball gags. Their hands were cuffed
behind their backs and their ankles were fastened to a welded metal bar which
ran the length of the floor. They moaned quietly as the vibrators - Janice's
idea, of course - buzzed and hummed inside their aching pussies. The redhead
was crouched on the floor, one eye on the girls the other watching the back
entrance to the restaurant through a blackened van window. One of Vopat's goons
sat in the front seat behind the steering wheel.
I hadn't wanted to bring either Janice or the two girls along, but the
redhead had insisted. She wanted to be in on the kill, she said. And the girls
were insurance... in case something went wrong. The thought of something going
wrong made me sick to my stomach. Ten million dollars in ransom money is
serious stuff.
"Well?" she asked.
Bitch.
I shrugged and got out of the van.
A nondescript door in the alley led to a small restaurant / bar. The place
was empty except for a couple of locals and a drunken tourist pawing the review
section of the Bangkok Post, no doubt drooling over their reviews of the local
sex acts.
And Kennedy.
I spotted him immediately. A short, heavy man with a weak chin,
overdressed for the weather.
I walked up to his table. "Kennedy?" I asked.
He nodded nervously. I could smell his fear.
Couldn't blame him, I guess.
"You have it?"
Fuck.
I felt like a character in a B movie with lines like that. Still, it did
the trick. He nodded and pulled a small briefcase out from under the table.
After glancing around - no one was paying us the slightest attention - he undid
the catch and opened it a crack. "It's all here," he told me.
I stared at ten million dollars worth of uncut diamonds.
"Shut it," I ordered, looking around. Now *I* was nervous. It was
dangerous to be holding that kind of money. "Follow me." I led him out the back
way into the alley. I paused, looking around. The van sat there, just as I'd
left it.
No one in sight.
"There." I gave him a shove towards it as I reached into a pocket for a
blackjack. The plan was to knock him unconscious and leave him in the alley.
Without the briefcase, of course.
I had it halfway out of my pocket when I felt something cold
and hard against my temple.
A gun.
Then a voice: "Don't move."
*****
Crawford looked up from the newspaper as the two men walked towards the
back of the restaurant. Was that Jackson? The tall, beefy man with the receding
hairline somehow didn't fit his mental picture of the man. Looked more like an
ex-football player gone to seed rather than some kind of diabolical white
slaver.
Still...
The FBI agent dropped the magazine and followed them out into the alley.
The heavy man pointed to a van with blackened windows and gave Kennedy a shove
towards it. Crawford drew his Browning, took a couple of quick, quiet steps and
placed it against the kidnapper's temple.
"Don't move."
The man froze.
"Move your hands away from your pockets. Now." Slowly, calmly, the
kidnapper let his hands fall away until they hung loose and empty at his sides.
"I'm not armed," the man said quietly.
Crawford snorted. "You won't mind if I don't take your word for it, will
you Mr. Jackson?"
The man started at the name and Crawford felt a wave of excitement wash
over him. This really was Jackson. He knew Jacqueline Astor... knew how to get
in contact with him. The FBI agent trembled in anticipation; he couldn't wait
to question the man, particularly here, away from any legal limits on police
action. He would...
No. Crawford swallowed and forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
First things first. There would be plenty of time for questions later. He
glanced at the van. "Kennedy," he called out, "Check..."
He fell silent.
Where was Kennedy? He...
"Drop the gun."
"What?" The FBI agent looked around. Kennedy was a few feet away, a .38
Special in his hand.
"I said drop it," the man repeated.
Stunned, Crawford opened his hand and let the Browning drop to the
pavement where it bounced once and skittered away. Jackson leaned down,
reaching for the gun, but froze as Kennedy turned the revolver on him. "You
too," he called out. "Don't move... either of you."
Jackson straightened up, his hands in the air.
The van door slid open...
*****
"Drop the gun."
I looked over. Kennedy was holding some kind of revolver... pointing it at
the guy who had ambushed me. There was a clank as the man dropped his pistol to
the concrete. What the hell? Then it dawned on me: Kennedy had been in on it
from the outset. He and Janice had planned it together!
I bent down and reached for the pistol, but Kennedy turned the revolver on
me. "You too," he said. "Don't move... either of you."
Fuck.
I straightened up and put my hands in the air.
Just what the hell was going on?
The van door slid open and Janice slid out, a silenced Walther PPK in her
hand. Where had that come from?
"Hello Philip," she smiled. "I see you've met my friend Mr. Jackson."
Christ. With the way my name was being tossed about, I'd have to start using a
new alias. She smirked at me as she took the briefcase from her fiance and put
it in the back of the van. "Don't look so surprised, Jackson. You didn't really
think I was going to give a third to that weasel Vopat, did you?"
Bitch.
She looked at the other guy. "And you must be Agent Crawford." Janice
smirked. "I heard about your sister."
'Agent Crawford?' A fucking FBI agent? In Bangkok?
"Quit fucking around, Janice." Philip's hand was trembling. Not a
promising sight when a that hand's pointing a gun at you. "Let's do it and get
the hell out of here."
The redhead sneered at her fiance's nerves, but nodded. "Take them around
behind the van. Do it there."
I reconsidered. Maybe a new alias wouldn't be necessary after all. It
didn't look like I'd be around much longer.
"Move it."
It's a funny thing. Even when you know you're going to be shot, you always
obey the man who's about to kill you. Gun's are like that. I glanced in the
front of the van as I went past. Vopat's driver was slumped over the wheel, his
brains spread out all over the inside of the windshield.
Maybe not so funny...
*****
Crawford smelled the blood stench and cordite before he saw the body
slumped up against the gore-stained dashboard. Kennedy was an amateur. Maybe...
Out of the corner of his eye, the FBI agent caught the brief hesitation... the
inevitable moment of revulsion as Kennedy saw the body and froze.
Crawford whirled and...
*****
I was about to start begging when something metallic slammed against the
side of the van behind me. I turned. Kennedy and the mystery man - Agent
Crawford, Janice had called him - were struggling for control of the revolver.
A shot rang out.
That was enough for me. As far as I knew, they both wanted to kill me and
I didn't want to wait around to see who won.
I ran past them around the side the van and straight into Janice, who was
running towards the struggling men. The redhead tried to raise her pistol in my
direction, but I was too close. I barrelled into her before she could shoot.
She let out a cry as we both tumbled to the ground. The Walther went flying.
Half winded by the impact, I struggled to my feet. Janice was on her hands
and knees, gasping for air. I'm a lot heavier than she is. I reached down,
dragged her up by a fistful of hair and slammed her against the alley wall. She
hit the bricks with her shoulder, bounced off and fell to her knees. I moved
after her, but she stumbled to her feet and staggered away out of the alley. I
lumbered along behind, but she started to pull away.
I'm not all that quick on my feet.
She might have made it if the old mercedes hadn't come screaming around
the corner and squealed to a stop directly in front of her. The redhead tried
to halt, but slipped on some garbage and slammed heavily into the side of the
car.
Another shot rang out behind me.
Then another.
Tam lowered the window, her blue eyes shining with excitement. "Get in,
Joe. Fast. Bring the bitch."
I didn't need to be told twice. Janice was trying to crawl away, so I
kicked her in the stomach. She groaned and fell gasping against the side of the
car. I pulled open the car door, grabbed her by the back of the neck and half
threw her inside.
"Hurry!"
I dove inside as Tam pulled away.
Another shot rang out, shattering the back window and showering us with
glass. Tam let out a high pitched scream, laughing with excitement as the
mercedes turned a corner and picked up speed.
*****
Crawford lowered Kennedy's .38 as the car turned the corner and
disappeared from view. They were gone. Jackson was gone, and with him the one
real lead he had concerning the whereabouts of Jacqueline Astor. Swallowing,
the FBI agent turned and walked back into the alley.
Kennedy lay sprawled on the ground beside the van, a large part of his
head spread out on the concrete. Crawford opened the van door and looked
inside. Melissa and Amanda looked back at him, eyes wide with hope. The
briefcase lay on the floor. The FBI agent smiled reassuringly and climbed
inside to free them.
At least he'd accomplished something...
*****
*****
Hender hung up the phone, wincing.
"Stanford's pissed."
Crawford shrugged wearily. "Can't blame him. Hard for him to believe his
daughter set the whole thing up."
"Do you think they'll ever find her?"
"Doubt it. Bangkok's got a lot of places to hide, and she's probably long
gone by now."
"At least he got his diamonds back."
"Yeah," Crawford nodded. "He'll get over it."
"How about you, Harrison?" the FBI official asked, studying the younger
man. "You were close this time. Are you getting over it."
Crawford fell silent for a moment, thinking about how it had
felt with Jackson before him, full of information about... her.
Dr. Jacqueline Astor. To have that slip through his fingers
was...
"Ah shit." He had managed to get the girls out. "There'll be
other times. I'm fine." He looked over at his superior and
shrugged. "Fine as I'll ever be."
He thought about his sister.
Next time.
*****
I took another mouthful, enjoying the burning sensation as the scotch
trickled down my throat and flooded into my stomach. Face comfortably numb, I
leaned back on my bed and closed my eyes as the evening's events came back to
me.
It had started off badly.
There had been a small package waiting for me at the club. It had
contained a small, glass jar with two tiny pieces of flesh floating in some
kind of clear preservative. I couldn't identify them until I'd read the note:
"Loose lips sink ships, Joe. Donald had a big
mouth. Do you?
Love, Jacqueline
PS. No more warnings; no more contact. You understand."
I understood.
Perfectly.
God, that woman scared me.
Things got better.
Vopat cornered me and slipped me an envelope full of money. Another 25,000
baht, he told me, as a bonus for a job well done. His way of buying me off
after tricking me with the kidnap scheme, but I didn't care. Together with the
50,000 I'd gotten paid originally and the 25,000 I'd been paid for acquiring a
new girl for the doggie show, I now had enough money not to work for Vopat for
a while.
Maybe even go into legit business.
We'd see.
As I'd predicted, Tam's doggie show had been a big hit. The crowd had gone
nuts when Janice - now "Jan-Jan" - and Mandy - a petite blonde named Amanda
Boyd I'd picked up in a hurry to fill out the act from a friend named Carol
Brookmere back in the U.S. (one of Carol's "office girls"; but that's another
story) - did their bits with James and Philip, the two german shepherds. Tam
had even added a nice bit at the end where the two girls licked and sucked
their canine partners clean after they'd finished sucking the dog cum from each
other's gaping pussies.
Inspired.
The audience kicked and stomped and screamed for so long that Tam led her
pets on stage for a short encore. The sight of proud, haughty Janice Stanford
in a leather leash and dog collar, smiling happily while barking and wagging
her fluffy red tail at the crowd of lowlives and losers cheered me immensely.
Two shows a night.
Seven days a week.
Janice would be a busy girl...
One more thing.
As I sat drinking in the lull between shows, I spotted Annie doing her bar
slut routine for a disinterested customer. I'd been thinking about her a lot
lately... and about her resemblance - yes... there *was* a resemblance - to
Danielle.
It had been giving me nightmares again.
Time to do something about it.
I downed my drink, got to my feet and staggered over to her as her mark
turned away in favour of a young, Thai girl. She let out a little scream as I
grabbed her, dragged her into Vopat's office and shoved her up against his
desk. She steadied herself and looked over at me, blue eyes fearful under her
long, blonde hair. I let my eyes roam over her made up whore's face and then
slowly down her body, taking in the sagging, well used tits, barely covered by
the white, yellow-stained bikini top... the red marks and bruises up and down
her pale arms... the thin, almost transparent bikini bottom... the trickle of
dried cum on the inside of her thigh...
"A-Annie please you," she stuttered, uncertain of the situation. "You like
Annie? Make fuckee fuckee?"
"You're name's not 'Annie'," I growled at her. "It's Roxanne Bodwell.
You're english; used to be a stewardess. I kidnapped you and your daughter nine
months ago and sold you as sex slaves to the lowest, scummiest club in
Bangkok."
"No..."
"You and Sarah were on display as lesbian fuck toys for six months before
Vopat sold your daughter off the most corrupt army office in Thailand. He's
probably fucking her brains out in his private estates right now."
"You... bastard...".
"And I'm the guy who did it to you. I sold you. I put you here. You're a
fucked out whore. Your daughter's a whore. And you'll both be whores for the
rest of your lives."
Tears streamed down her face as she stared at me.
"And now, I'm going to fuck you 'till you bleed. And know what, Roxanne
Bodwell? There's not a fucking thing you can do about it. 'Cause that's what
you're here for."
She started to scream, but I grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her
stomach into Vopat's desk. The blonde woman let out a strangled groan and
doubled over, gasping for air. "The world's shit, Roxanne," I growled, wrapping
my fingers around the slender bikini string and ripped it from her bruised
thighs. "And you're in it." I buried my cock to the hilt into her pussy with
one furious shove. I was as hard as I'd ever been, and dry as a bone, but she
had been so well used, I barely felt a thing when I went in.
Didn't matter.
This wasn't about her. Something burst deep inside, sending shards of
images tumbling through my skull in a torrent of unwanted memory...
... until I no longer knew who I was...
... Danielle, laughing and playing with little Cassie in the
morning light... (...looksalotlikeher...) ... looking up at me as
I came up the... (...looksalot...) ... red ribbons ...
... Cassie... little Cassie, crying at the window while black
smoke tumbled and swirled around her...
(...neverforgetneverforget...)
... police light, red and blue spashing against grey, smoke-
blackened concrete and twisted glass shards...
(...blondesmiling...)
... and... underlying it all... a single fact... a realization...
I'd somehow avoided... ignored... obscured... for almost twenty
years... (...neverforgetneverforget...)
...a single, unescapable fact...
... Danielle... Cassie ...
... they were never...
...never... coming... back...
...it didn't matter what I did... whether I rescued Roxanne and
her daughter...
... Danielle ...
... or whether I slit their throats and dumped them in the
gutter...
"... NEVER!... FUCKING! ... COMING! ... BACK!"
I heard myself screaming as my senses snapped back to the here and now. It
didn't matter. Tears scalded my cheeks as I pounded each ugly, twisted spike
of a word as deep as I could into Roxanne Bodwell's squirming, unwilling cunt.
(... notcomingback ...)
Nothing mattered.
(... nevercomingbacknotcoming ...)
I came hard after a few more crude thrusts and left her gasping and
sobbing on the floor of Vopat's office.
Vopat stared at me, a look of surprise on his face as I stormed out of his
office doing my pants up, but wisely didn't say anything as I snatched a almost
full bottle of cheap scotch off the bar and marched out into the warm, dark
Bangkok night.
Back in my room.
The bottle of scotch lay empty beside me on the bed and I felt a familiar
sodden darkness overtake me, dragging me down into sleep. Thinking of
Roxanne... Sarah... Danielle... I felt a brief stab of fear that I might dream.
But I didn't.
Slept like a baby.
THE END
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