Lesli Part 17
I awoke the next morning in extreme pain. My ass felt as if someone was up there with a hot iron. I couldn't touch it, it hurt that much. I lay in bed whimpering and trying to find a position that hurt less than the others, but I could find none.
The pain in my head was worse. What had I done? What had I become to let these men have their way with me so? Although I didn't remember it all, I remembered enough. Glimpses of last night in the stables would fill my mind as nothing else had ever done. Even the episodes with the Ahmed's dog paled in comparison with what I had done last night. No, I was at the bottom of my moral slide from the innocent college student I had been just last year. I had come down on a level with animals. Beneath that, even. I had let my self be used, in the most perverse way, by men and animals alike. I had submitted, most willingly, to their abuses and I would never be the same. I had crossed an unmarked line in the spiral from what I had been to what I was becoming. And I had no idea how much further I would go to hit bottom.
Nabil left me alone the whole day, alone to tend to my wounds. Oh, the physical pain I endured would eventually heal, my overstretched anus would reform, although never as tight as before. But my mental wounds would take much more time before I regained some semblance of self respect. Right now I had absolutely zero self esteem, and that would serve Nabil and his customers just fine. I no longer had the will to resist any request they made. I would blindly obey anything Nabil said. I had no choice, that was what I told myself, and the fact that I had done what I had done on tape, I felt, sealed my fate. If the contents of that tape got back to anyone who knew me, well I might as well be dead.
Everyone in the villa stayed away from me the first day, they all knew something had happened but no one asked me a thing about it. They left me to my pain and misery. Even Sankit knew enough to leave me alone. I spent the entire day in bed, getting up only to go to the bathroom when I needed to. By early evening I worked up enough courage to examine myself closely, using my makeup mirror to get a good luck back there. What I saw horrified me. The lips of my ass were stretched and red and at first I thought I was bleeding. But closer examination revealed no permanent damage. The insides of my anal cavity fairly hung out my distended lips, looking like so much ravaged meat. Everything was covered in white powdery dried cum, and I gently cleaned myself with a damp cloth. I was raw to the touch, and it took several tries before I could stand the pain of the wet cloth on myself. I finally cleaned myself sufficiently to have a better look. Clean of all the dried cum, I could see better now, and I seemed to be in one piece. I put a generous coating of baby oil on my ass lips and worked it in gently, trying to work the soothing liquid inside me. As loose as I was, my finger fairly fell into my hole. I lay on my back with my legs draw up to my chest and poured it in. It was cool and soothing and I brought the mouth of the bottle up to my crack and squeezed til the pressure forced it inside.
I needed relief for the mind now, and I went downstairs to the living room and found a joint on the coffee table. Smoke from the first drag rushed into my empty lungs and had an almost immediate effect on my head, sending me careening from reality into the foggy world of self gratification that pot always took me to. Within minutes I was in the clouds, not thinking, not caring, not hurting.
And now, seeing this, the others relaxed and things got back to normal. I tried to explain to Sankit what had happened, leaving out the parts I didn't remember. He listened, spellbound, not interupting the first time. I guess it shocked him as much as it had shocked me, but I had the distinct impression that he was enjoying the telling. At least he seemed like he was.
Nabil came to me that night, all sweet and innocent with nothing, in his mind at least, to apologize for. I was cool toward him, the pot being the only reason I'm sure. He complimented me for what I had done, how I had handled myself, and told me that the movie could be the start of a wonderful thing for me. I didn't believe him, but I had no will to argue now. I only wanted the soothing fog from the pot to take me away from all this, and by the second joint, it did just that.
I awoke the next morning in a better mood. The physical pain was still there, I didn't think I could ever take anything inside me again, but it wasn't quite as bad as yesterday and I could apply the baby oil without cringing today. I coated my insides with it now and began to feel as if I might live.
My mind, too, was beginning to heal. I had an early morning joint to refresh the fog and get me through the day. I was still shaken by the episode, but I was beginning to remember more and more of it, and I even found myself thinking that it was an experience, the pain notwithstanding, that wasn't all that bad. I mean, and this is the part that surprised me, as fucked up on pot as I was, it had been a very sexy experience. Thinking back on it, I was slightly aroused at the idea of what I had done, and I had done it in front of a camera and at least six men. Did they like it? Did it turn them on to see me naked, on my knees under the horse, taking his gigantic cock in my mouth, servicing him. And the fuck, were they excited to see me take the massive horse cock in my ass? How far had he gone up me? >From the soreness it seemed as if he had invaded me completely, but I remembered the size of him and doubted I could have taken all that.
A lot of my questions were answered that evening when Nabil showed up with a copy of the tape. The girls were working, so Sankit and I were the only ones to see it. I didn't mind Sankit seeing it, and we sat on the couch passing a joint back and forth between us as the spellbinding scenes played out on the TV screen. I was shaking when it was over, partly a case of the nerves and partly out of arousal. It was, on the whole, a very erotic tape, and seeing it filled in the pot induced holes in my memory. I still couldn't believe that I had done it, but the tape was proof that I had done so willingly. The expression on my face was one of pure lust and the camera had captured it all. I would never be able to deny it, as long as the tape was there for proof.
I would never see the tape again, although in later years I understand it made the rounds of the 'bizarre' theatres, most notable one in the redlight district of Amsterdam. Nabil did
give me a few of the stills for 'souvenirs' but in all my moving over the next years, only one remains as proof of that incredible night. I still have it with me today.
By the third day a combination of aspirin, baby oil, and pot had me in a much more relaxed frame of body and mind. Things were getting back to normal, and my reaction to the tape proved that normal for me could be anything I adjusted to.
I finally admitted to myself something I had suspected for a long time. I was, to put it simply and precisely, a slut. Transexuality had nothing to do with it. I would do anything for arousal. I would do anything to please a man because what I wanted, at the bottom of my soul, was to do just that. Please men. I would do whatever they wanted, no matter how perverse. I would suck cock, I would let them fuck me, I would service animals. Anything.
The pot made it all go down so easy, but even without the pot I realized that I was a slut. And the funny thing was, I didn't mind. It didn't bother me in the least.
The fourth day after my experience with Prince, Sankit and I made love for the second time. We were just sitting around the villa, nothing to do, and it happened. I don't know if I instigated or Sankit, but we ended up on the living room couch, naked, sucking and fucking each other to climax. I was surprised that my ass could take it, but it did. There was no real pain, and the pleasure was certainly there. Over the next few weeks we repeated the scene almost every single day. I suppose we were reaching out for each other, fellow prisoners in Nabil's lurid game of 'pleasure'.
A full week went by before I tricked again, this time it was a fairly short trip to Abu Dhabi and an American businessman. He treated me nice, but the sex was nothing special. The thought came to my mind that I had seen and done more than most people my age and I wasn't impressed by just anything now, although I must say I did my enthusiastic best to please him.
And so it went, as the weeks stretched into months, and before I knew it, I had been 'working' for Nabil for six months. That was longer than I had ever done anything before, excepting high school, and a combination of the grind and the pot had me spinning in a fog all the time now. I really didn't know, or care, what happened most of the time. I did my job, quite well from the complements I received, and hung out at the villa the rest of the time. Sankit and I became regular lovers during this period, making love at least once a day. It was different with him, we were kindred spirits, and we provided each other a little genuine love.
At Sankit's urging, I had a talk with Nabil, explaining to him that I wanted to do something else with my life. I had made him a lot of money, we all had, and I felt the debt had been covered now. I simply wanted out of his world.
He surprised me by agreeing that he considered my debt to be paid, and agreed to 'think' about setting me free. Out of the country, of course, because if I tried to live a regular life there I would just get back into trouble. I was a whore, he said, and whores always came to the same end if they weren't looked after. His logic was hard to argue against. Deep down I knew he was right, I was a whore. And, surprisingly enough, I wasn't angry at him for his opinion.
"You want to be a woman, no? A real woman" his querie almost knocked me down.
"Uh..well..yes. Yes I do." I responded, honestly. I had thought of nothing else for the past 8 months now. I wanted to take the final step, to the charade of a life I had been living.
"Then maybe..just maybe I can help. These things are done in Thailand, at a very reduced price compared to the rest of the world. Perhaps we can arrange for you to...to earn enough money to have this done."
"How..I mean..where?" I was confused. I had heard that the operation, Sexual Reassignment Surgery, was extremely expensive, running into the thousands of dollars.
"In Thailand, of course. Maybe I can arrange things for you. I have connections you know." I was bewildered, but Nabil assured me that he would work on a plan and tell me as soon as arrangements could be made. I was apprehensive at first, was this just a plot to keep me working for him? What arrangements could he make? I had many more questions than he was willing to answer at this point. I would have to be patient, he said. I had no choice, I thought.
The whole idea was enough to get me back into my old self, and I began to look forward to life again. Not so much that I gave up the pot, it was just to available and I liked the way it made me feel. But I found myself thinking about the future again, something I hadn't done since I had been banished from the Ahmen circle.
Within a few days Nabil came to me with a proposition. He could arrange, thru some of his 'connections' for me to work in club in Bangkok, earning real money which I could save for the operation. Thai doctors were specializing in SRS now, making Thailand the premiere spot for transexuals. The price was less than $2,000, excluding the mandatory rehabilitation period, but that too was cheaper than the States. According to Nabil's sources, the work was excellent, rivalling anything done in the US or Europe. I would have to take his word for it, I thought, as I didn't know a single post operative transexual.
My leaving the Gulf was as simple as my arriving, a Gulf Air flight from Abu Dhabi, my passport returned to me with no trace of ever entering Dubai. Again someone high up had greased the skids, and I found myself wondering if there was any record of me at all since I left the States. I would find out, much later, that I was officially a missing person, my parents having given me up for dead. But that would be another story.
The flight was a blur as my emotions at leaving had overpowered any rational thought, and I had to pinch myself over and over to really believe it was finally happening. The only regret I had was in leaving Sankit. I think now that I had actually fell in love with the softspoken young gay. To this day I think about him and wonder what it is that he's doing. Whatever it is, I hope he is happy. If, by chance, you read this Sankit, I love you.
Landing in Bangkok was a world apart from where I had been. I checked thru immigration without the first problem. The temporary visa stapled inside my passport listed my visit 'medical' , and under 'gender' was the neatly typed TRANSEXUAL, signifying for the first time in my life some sort of acceptance of my orientation.
One thing that Bangkok has in common with the Gulf is heat. It was as hot and muggy in Bangkok as it had been in Abu Dhabi, the temperature over 100 when I arrived. I was dressed for tropical travel, wearing one of the summer dresses I had brought from the States. I had adopted the tropic habit of not wearing hose, the heat was just too much for that, but still the warm humid atmosphere of Thailand made me perspire, and I felt trickles of sweat forming on my face and back.
The low heels of my white strap sandals clicked on the immaculately clean marble floors of the airport baggage claim area, my long blonde hair and bare legs causing eyes to turn as I walked on. Thankfully my baggage was there, and I made my way thru customs in no time, exiting into a throng of waiting Thais. It didn't take me long to find the sign with 'LESLI" printed on it, and the old man took my suitcase and motioned for me to follow him, exiting the terminal and making for the parking lot.
The heat hit me full blast outside, and the sweat fairly poured off me during the short walk across traffic to the car. He hoisted my bags into the trunk and opened the back door for me, closing it after I had slid inside. He spoke not a word, I don't know if he didn't speak English or he just didn't have anything to say. I tried to make small talk but all I got back were smiles and grunts to my comments. It was just as well, I was taking in the scenery as he drove, getting a first look at what was to be my new home, temporary I hoped.
Bangkok is an incredible city in an incredible country. Traffic is horrendous, making the Gulf seem almost countrylike in comparison. Cars, trucks, scooters, motorcycles all vie for the road, and plenty of road there is. But even so, traffic seldom moves at a speed anything approaching the wide open spaces of the Middle East or the US. We made the short, in distance, trip in an hour, arriving in the 'city' where the traffic was even worse, if that's possible.
'City' is a vague term here, the concentration of buildings is fairly constant from the airport to the river, with concentrations of high rise buildings indicating the city. They were absolutely impressive, massive glass spires erected with the money that flowed into this SouthEast Asian center of business. All the major corporations are represented, in addition to a puzzling number of Asian companies I had never heard of. They all flocked here in response to Bangkok becoming a financial center for the region.
The streets, while broad and clean, were crowded with throngs of people making there way I know not where. At every steet light mobs waited, or crossed. Congestion personified.
The Patpong district was our destination. I would come later to know it's history and reputation, but now it was just another mangle of high rises, dumpy apartments, bars and shops, rather it's own little microcosm of Bangkok. Broad avenues with alleys, streets I suppose, going off in all directions, teeming with the unknown draw of the Orient. I drank it all in, a new life experience for me.
The airconditioned ride from the airport had me comfortable again, so much so that the blast of hot air that hit me when I stepped from the car nearly suffocated me. And the smells.....god the smells. Food everywhere, and unlike anything I had ever smelled before. I would get used to it in a short time, but for now every odor was new, some pleasant, some not.
We were on a small street in the district, in front of a line of bars intermingled with food shops. I might just as well have been on the dark side of the moon. The driver took my bag from the trunk and led me up a short flight of broad stairs with a sign above them indicating that this was the 'World Famous Cleopatra Club' complete with a curious looking painting of the famous Egyptian fellatrix. I wondered if the connection was any other than in name only.
Opening a side door, he led the way into the bar. It was mercifully airconditioned, a fact that I came to appreciate more and more with each passing day.
It was dark and reeked of a mixture of stale beer and cigarette smoke and reminded me immediately of Rufus' place. Over time I would come to realize that all these places were basically the same, a refuge of sex - or at least the promise of sex - that lured men to them. But the main difference was that Thai bars cater to tourists. Rufus had just catered to the local crowd.
The taxi driver, his mission accomplished, set my bag down and called out something in Thai before taking his leave.
"Ahhhh..missy...Lesli....oh, you soooo nice, nice ladyboy!" It came from a middle aged old woman, in her forties I would guess, but that body, that face, had seen miles and miles in those 40 years. She came out of the darkened interior of the bar to greet me at the door. "Welcome, welcome, welcome to Cleopatra."
Her name was Minga, but she was 'mama' to all the girls in the bar, and her job was what would be referred to as 'manager' in the States. She saw to every aspect of the club except the money. The owner, a slight, surprisingly younger woman was the owner and she handled the financial side of things with an efficiency bordering on fanaticism.
Minga saw me to my temporaty quarters, an unused storeroom with a small cot, in which I would live until I could find either an apartment to share or one of my own. I would soon realize that the days were short and boring, but the nights were long.
And the first long night of this new phase of my life would begin in three hours.
To be continued lesli99@hotmail.com