"It's a long journey back to the hotel. Good slave that you are, you wouldn't mind carrying our bags for us, would you, Prasang?" asked Martin. "They're quite heavy for a couple of old codgers like us."
Prasang drew in his breath, preparing to go back into degradation mode. "No master. I'm happy to carry my masters' bags. Please, let me carry them, sir."
Both men had brought big duffle bags with long shoulder straps. Prasang bowed his head as Gary positioned one diagonally across his right shoulder so that it rested on his left hip. Martin did the same on the opposite side.
Now sporting three bags, including the one from me strapped to his chest, he looked like a laden pack mule.
"Do they feel heavy, Prasang?"
Prasang shifted his weight from one leg to the other, getting a feel for them. "Yes, they're quite heavy, master."
Martin stepped forward and attached the cuffs on the boy's wrists back onto his collar so that his arms were bound.
"Try putting them down," he said.
Prasang did as he was told. He tugged on his cuffs and shifted his hips, trying to wriggle the straps down off his body, but they held fast.
He shook his head. "I can't put them down, master."
Martin smiled, his sadism revving up. "Good."
"I don't know, though," said Gary, "He still looks a little, well, naked if you ask me...if only we could dress him up a bit for the journey back."
I patted the bulging backpack on his chest. "This is his now, it's going with him. It's got thongs, tank tops, sheer shorts, all kinds of things to choose from. I chose clothes that make him seem naked even when he isn't, didn't I, Prasang?"
"Yes, master," Prasang said, "I'll...I'll still look naked in these clothes."
"He's your own little Ken doll to dress however you want."
The two men came and unzipped the bag on his chest. They began sorting through the risque articles of clothing, holding them up one at a time and commenting to each other.
"I do love the sheer shorts. We'll have to put those on him just as soon as his bum feels a bit better."
Gary took the green, transparent shorts and held them against Prasang's pelvis.
"Oh, he'll look wonderful in these," he said, "Quite a treasure trove, Jim, thank you."
"There's this, too, if you want him to wear it." I drew the black blindfold out of my pocket.
Gary's eyes lit up. "Oh yes, that's perfect, just what he's missing!"
He positioned himself behind the bag-laden Prasang and fitted the blindfold down over his eyes. "I..." Prasang began, but then thought better of it.
He looked wonderful blindfolded. Obscuring a slave's eyes drew immediate attention to his mouth, and Prasang had such a nice one.
"Can you see anything?" Gary asked.
"No, master. Oh...ah!"
Martin had taken his big, limp cock in hand and was drawing back the foreskin to reveal its plump, purple cock head.
"My word, but this is an extraordinary tool you've got, Prasang. My mind is still blown by that load of spoof you shot earlier."
Prasang started to blush, not quite knowing how to respond to this. "Th-thank you, master."
Martin weighed the boy's cock up and down in his hand. Even flaccid, it was still long and thick. He shook his head in wonder. "Just get a feel for the heft of this thing, Gary."
Still standing behind him, Gary reached down between Prasang's legs and seized a hold of his sore, swollen balls along with the base of his cock. "Oh...ah, XUY!"
Prasang's face twisted as Gary groped and massaged. He spread his legs wider and pulled at his wrist cuffs, but was otherwise powerless to lower his arms and stop the man's hands.
"Very impressive, indeed," said Gary, waggling his rubbery cock around by its base a few times, waving it at Martin.
"Who knew they grew things so big in Thailand? What on earth do you feed this thing, Prasang?"
Prasang smiled even as he struggled, his face blushing brightly. "I was-MMF! I was born with it, master."
He spread his legs out further in the sand as Gary stroked his shaft upward.
"No doubt you were, lad. Runs in the family does it?" Martin asked, cupping the front of his penis and sliding the loose foreskin backward and forward over the head.
His cock still looked red from having comed three times.
"May I ask, is your daddy as big as you are? Did you ever get a peek at him?"
Prasang's face blushed deeper.
"No need to feel embarrassed, Prasang, I got looks at my daddy plenty of times as a lad. He was a big fellow, too. Just want to know if you ever saw your old man naked is all."
Prasang swallowed down his discomfort as the two older men fondled his cock together. His body was so athletic and virile that he was starting to get hard again.
It should have been easier now than during his last orgasm, for he had not been spanked in a while and the clothespins were gone.
"Yes, master," he began to moan as they groped him. "My mother and sisters bathed inside...MMF. Me and my father bathed with the other men...at the river."
"Oh, so you saw him naked virtually every day, then?"
"(GULP) Yes, master."
"And is his cock just as big as yours?" Martin squeezed the sizable head like a nectarine.
Prasang's mouth turned downward at the edges. He gasped out his answer. "Yes, master...yes it is."
"And what about your granddaddy? As big as the both of you?"
"Yes, master."
Martin let out a hearty laugh and clapped Prasang on the back. "Good boy, that explains everything, doesn't it. He comes from a line of strong, fit Thai men, all hung like stallions. You should be proud of your lineage, Prasang. Do you feel proud?"
He moaned as both men continued to stimulate him. "Yes, master...ah...ah...Yes, I feel proud."
Now Gary spoke up. "So, Master Jim says you're our little Ken doll, is that right, Prasang?"
"Yes, master," he continued moaning.
Gary rested his bearded chin on Prasang's shoulder and spoke directly into his ear. "But I have to say, I was always partial to Barbie myself. Did you ever play with Barbies when you were a boy?"
Prasang cleared his throat awkwardly as Gary brushed his nose against his ear. "No, master."
"Oh, that is a shame, you didn't have any little dollies to play with?"
Prasang cleared his throat again. "My older sisters had dolls, master. I...I just wrestled with the other boys. We wanted to be fighters, sir."
"So, you had older sisters, did you?" Gary kissed his ear, then dabbed his warm, wet tongue into the hole. Prasang flinched. "Did they ever, say, try to doll you up a bit? Give you a makeover? Dress you up in their clothes? Girls like to do that to their younger brothers sometimes, don't they?"
Prasang's face was burning. The backpack rose and fell with his heaving chest. He shook his head like a muzzled horse. "No, master, no never!"
It came out a little more forcefully than he probably intended. Prasang had the patience of a saint, but it had been a very long and difficult day for him.
Gary chuckled at his little outburst. "Well, I do love this collar of course, you're very handsome in it. But you're such a beautiful boy, I would like to make you even more beautiful. Would you like me to help you feel beautiful, Prasang?"
"Umm...I." He wanted to answer his master, understood that he was supposed to answer, but didn't know what to say. He was clearly uncomfortable with all these questions and probably just wanted to sink into the ground.
"We'll go shopping tomorrow. Have a girls' day out," Gary half-whispered, planting light kisses on his ear. "I'm thinking a nice, fluffy slave collar for you. Something pink and posh like a little pussy cat would wear. And a little bell on the end so you'll make a tinkling sound when you walk."
He pinched Prasang's cheek like an auntie.
"That way we'll know where you are at all times. We wouldn't want to lose track of our pretty, pretty boy, would we, Martin?"
"Oh, that's the very last thing we'd want." Having gotten Prasang's cock almost fully hard again, Martin gave it a slap.
"OH!" His natural reaction was to pull away, but Gary held him fast by the arms.
Blind and bound as he was, Prasang was at the mercy of the two men and their roving hands.
Martin slapped his erection again, first the upside, then the downside. It stiffened and bobbed immediately back into place.
"Gary and I had a little discussion earlier while you were off with Master Jim. We've got plans for you, dear lad," Martin looked rather sinister as he bounced Prasang's hardon up and down.
"You've no idea what we have in mind for you. For the next month, we're not letting you out of our sight for even a minute, not a single, solitary minute are we, Gary?"
"Definitely not. We'd be simply beside ourselves if anything became of our dear little pussy cat." Gary couldn't hold back any longer. He enveloped Prasang's ear and began sucking it hungrily.
Prasang made a silent O with his mouth, almost unable to believe what was happening to him.
"Indeed. So, for the next four weeks, you go where we go. The toilets. The shower. We are three peas in a pod, is that clear, Prasang?" Martin was getting excited, too, his voice husky with lust.
"Yes, ma- UMF!" Prasang didn't have time to finish. Martin caught his luscious, pink lips in his own.
Gary behind him released his ear and kissed his way down his neck to his bare, brown shoulder.
The three of them moaned together. Martin forced out the Thai boy's sighs as he pushed his tongue deeper down his throat, all the while lightly dribbling his hard cock up and down. He went in so far that Prasang wretched and gagged around his tongue.
The two Australians touched themselves through their cargo shorts as they roved their captive's flawless, gleaming body.
All the while, I simply stood back and watched, transfixed at what was unfolding before me on this dark, empty beach with the waves crashing behind us.
In all my time with Scott, we had remained completely secluded in our activities. I had never met any other masters until now and, to my knowledge, neither had Scott.
That meant I did all the dominating myself. But I was fascinated (not to mention incredibly turned on) to watch other masters take charge of a slave while I simply enjoyed the show.
Only when Martin at last pulled out of Prasang's mouth did he turn his glazed eyes to me, standing nearby.
Now it was his turn to blush. He had fallen deep into the Prasang honey pot, something I understood was all too easy to do.
Even in his baggy cargo shorts it was clear he was a large man, possibly almost as big as Prasang himself.
He cleared his throat. "It's a long way back, we should really be on our way. Will you be joining us, Master Jim? Martin and I thought we'd avoid the walkway, use our lantern along the beach. You're more than welcome to join us."
The two older men stood on either side of their captive beauty, unable to keep their hands off him.
Prasang was still half-hard and panting from the assault of sensations on his body.
The three of them waited for my answer.
"I think two masters is company and three's a crowd," I said after a while. "I'll take the walkway and let the three of you get better acquainted. Prasang needs to learn your rules and what's expected of him. The sooner that happens, the easier it will be...for everyone."
Martin nodded, "Very well, then. In that case it was a great pleasure meeting you, Jim, don't know how we can ever repay you for giving us charge of this...rather extraordinary young man."
Martin slapped Prasang on his round, naked ass. "UMPH!" Prasang yelped, staggering forward a step or two.
"Oh dear me. I daresay those biscuits are cooling down a bit, if you don't mind, I do prefer mine to be piping hot."
He drew out his folded leather belt again. Prasang could not see him raising it behind him and would not anticipate it. I tried to brace myself on his behalf.
Martin brought it down hard. SMACK!
"AAAH!" Prasang cried out louder than I could remember hearing.
He tended to absorb the blows so well under normal circumstances. But he was already on edge around these two men and it was probably more due to alarm than actual pain.
He danced forward and simply collapsed onto his knees in the sand, buckling under the weight of all those bags, which had to weigh sixty pounds, at least.
Doubled over on the ground, Martin seized the shoulder straps criss crossing his back. "On your feet, slave!" He barked, the drill sergeant rearing its ugly head again. "One more or your naked bum. You can do it. Be a man, let's go!"
Gary helped Martin pull Prasang to his feet, his legs shaking like rubber bands as he rose. He groaned and whimpered through clenched teeth.
"Here we go, one more and we're done. Tighten that arse, boy!"
He raised the belt again and brought it down just as hard.
SMACK! "ARRF!" Prasang yipped like a wounded dog. "JING-JING!"
I feared he would just go down again, but he managed to stay up, dancing on the sand as though it was very hot.
Martin felt one burning cheek, then the other as Prasang sniffled. Tears of pain streamed down from beneath his blindfold. "That's more like it. I reckon we'll be able to grill cutlets on him, Gary."
I smiled at this rather awkward situation. "Just...don't be too hard on him. He's a good one, believe me, he is."
Martin nodded and shook my hand, still red in the face from his aggression. "We'll try to be worthy successors to you, won't we, Gary?"
"Indeed we will," I shook his hand as well.
I then went to the blind, panting Prasang. I put my hand on his shoulder and caressed his wet face. "Goodbye, beautiful Thai boy, enjoy your new masters. I know you'll serve..."
But I trailed off. He planted desperate kisses on my hand when I passed it over his mouth. He was shaking like a leaf and his face was a rather sickly yellow. He was wheezing through his breaths.
I turned to his masters, giving them that same awkward smile. The truth was, even I was a little bit afraid of Martin.
"Masters, could you give us just one more minute? It won't be long this time."
Martin was looking a little sheepish and put his belt away. "Of course, no hurry at all."
I took a hold of the backpack on Prasang's chest and led him out into the darkness under the palm tree where the three of us had eaten the plantain.
I raised the handsome boy's blindfold up onto his forehead. His black eyes glanced up at me, then quickly fell to the sand. His naked body was still trembling badly.
"Here, I should have thought of this before."
I unzipped one of the smaller pockets of my bag and dug around. I was relieved when my hand seized upon the little bottle of aloe vera gel I'd nearly forgotten about.
I had used it on Prasang a few times on this trip after walloping him especially hard. He surely needed it now worse than ever.
I held it before his eyes so he could see it. "I'm going to rub this on your sore buns, okay? I know they sting badly and it will hurt a little more when I do it, but in the end it will make you feel better, understand?"
Prasang sniffed. I noticed the dark bags under his eyes. "Yes, master."
"Rest your head on my shoulder, okay? I know how tired you are."
He lowered his chin onto my right shoulder, easy to do as I was taller than him.
I reached around behind him and drizzled gel, first on one cheek, then the other.
"Oh...xuy," he whined quietly.
I then touched my fingers to his burning globes as gently as I could and began spreading the gel.
"Mmf...xuy! Please!" He flexed his buns tight so that his glutes were hard as rocks beneath my touch.
I shushed him. "It's okay, you're okay." I lowered my voice and whispered into his ear so that only he could hear me. "Master Martin's a tough customer. When he spanks you hard, remember this gel in your bag, okay?"
I felt his chin move on my shoulder as he nodded. His face was nearly as hot as his ass to the touch.
He hissed as I trailed my way over the perfect curves of his ass. He clenched his buns even tighter.
"I know this is painful, but try to relax. Your hole still hurts, doesn't it?"
"Yes, master, it hurts a lot."
"Try not to clench so hard, I'll make this quick."
He did as I asked, relaxing his ass again as I rubbed on the rest of the gel. He whined and whimpered against my shoulder.
I looked over at Martin and Gary in the lamplight. The two of them were sitting on a single beach chair, having a quiet conversation of their own.
"Also remember," I said in a still lower voice, "That your phone is in this bag. That your wallet with all that money is in this bag. And that your card for your bank account with a much bigger load of money is in this bag.
"You aren't really a slave, Prasang. You aren't trapped. You can get away if you have to. If it's...too much."
I felt him swallow against my shoulder.
The bag on his chest swelled between us like a cushion. I finished applying the gel and held him back at arm's length.
"Look at me. You need to keep this bag with you all the time while you're with them. You have to insist on it. It's the one power you cannot give away, understand?"
He nodded stiffly, still trembling in my grasp. I saw such fear in his eyes, likely trying to anticipate the trials still to come and what Martin and Gary's "many plans for him" could be.
I had seen the look on his face when Gary spoke of a "girls' shopping day" to make him "look pretty."
If indeed they planned to make him walk around in makeup and women's clothing, that would be a whole new level of degradation he had never dealt with before.
"Does your butt feel a little better?" I asked.
He nodded again, "It doesn't hurt as much...Master?"
"Yes, Prasang?"
He looked stricken. More tears were welling up in his eyes. "Can I...um...could I..."
I wrapped my arms around him, my fingers caressing his oily back.
"Prasang," I said, again speaking quietly into his ear, "You can't come back with me now. That money has already gone through. You need to go with them.
"It's going to be a hard month, you knew it would be. They want to do the same things to you that I did, maybe more.
"But they aren't going to cheat you. Remember how much they're giving you. That is going to change your life, your family's life, and you will be set. You will never have to do anything like this again.
"I heard you tell Gary you wanted to be a fighter when you were a boy. Well, you are a fighter, Prasang. Martin and Gary said it themselves. You are a champion.
"You are so strong and good-hearted and your master is very proud of you. Your mom and your sisters would be proud, too, if they knew what you were willing to endure for them."
This was probably the wrong thing to say. I felt his face start to burn anew.
"If they knew," he said, "If they ever knew...I would be dead to them."
I released him and looked at him. "But they aren't going to know. No one who knows you will see you. You are going to help them like the good man you are. So, just try not to worry. What was that thing you were doing earlier while I was helping Martin transfer the money? Some kind of meditation?"
"Vijja dhammakaya," he said, "Thai meditation."
"You've been doing that all along, haven't you? During your time with me?"
"Yes, master."
"Do it now, would you?"
He fixed his moist eyes to a specific point on the sand. His chest began to rise and fall and he parted his lips like before. Gradually, a look of calm came into his face and color started to return.
"There we go," I said, "Good boy. My good boy."
I looked over at Martin and Gary again. Their conversation had ceased and they were watching and waiting, probably getting a little impatient.
"Prasang, if I'm wrong about them. If you do need to get away, but you need help, then I will help you. Scott needs me now and that's why I'm going back, but I'm your master, too, even if I'm not here. You won't be alone in this. I am going to text you everyday for the next four weeks, just to see how things are going. Would you like that?"
Prasang remained fixated on the sand. His chest rose and fell softly and he looked far calmer now.
At first I wasn't even sure he had heard me, but then he spoke. "Yes, master. I would love it if you texted me everyday."
"Martin and Gary will probably want to keep you naked or mostly naked a lot of the time, but get to your phone whenever you can to let me know you're okay. Will you do that?"
"Yes, master...yes, I'll do that."
"And if something is wrong, you need to tell me." I hesitated a minute, not sure if I really meant what I was going to say next, but continued anyway. "I'll even come back, all the way to Thailand, if that's what you need me to do."
At this, his eyes broke from their fixation point and he turned and looked at me. "You would do that, master?"
I seriously doubted it would ever come to that. He probably wouldn't even want me back under normal circumstances, were he not feeling so apprehensive about what was to come.
But I realized I had an obligation to him now, the same as I did to Scott.
These two men had both been undyingly loyal in their service to me. There was simply nothing to be done but give it back.
"Yes," I said with pure conviction, "I would do that. If you needed me to, I would get on a plane, with Scott if need be, and I would come back for you. Because you are my boy, Prasang, and you're worth it."
And with that, he kissed me.
A deep kiss of gratitude fused with something like passion. It warmed my entire body in the cool ocean air.
I could have stayed within the depths of those lips forever, but of course, time was of the essence, so I pulled him away gently.
"We've kept your masters waiting long enough. Are you ready?"
He glanced over at Martin and Gary, looking much healthier and confident now. "Yes, master."
I positioned the blindfold back down over his eyes. "Don't forget what I said."
We stepped back into the glow of the lamplight. Prasang looked much more confident facing his masters now. He looked healthy and maybe even a little excited.
Under the weight of all the bags, he did his best to give them a traditional Thai bow, though of course his hands were bound and he could not put them together.
Martin and Gary rose. The light of the lantern reflected in Martin's glasses. "Prasang," he said, "We've had a talk and I want to apologize for striking you before. I was...well that was wrong of me. For the rest of our trip, I'll be sure to warn you first before I do anything like that."
Prasang bowed again. "Yes, master. Thank you, master."
Gary picked up the lantern and put his arm around Prasang's shoulder. "We'll take things nice and slow, dear boy, don't you worry. Come on, now, it's been a very long night for you. Let's get you back to the hotel. We're going to give you a good, hot shower, then the three of us are going to have a very, very long sleep. Our bed is big and soft and you can snuggle up between us, how does that sound?"
"Yes, master. That sounds nice..."
Gary started to guide him away, but then he stopped. He was, of course, still blindfolded, but he bowed one last time in what he assumed was my direction.
"Chokh dii, master," he said.
"Chokh dii, Prasang," I said.
The three of them set off down the beach together with Gary lighting the way and Martin following close behind.
I watched the black-inked Buddha on Prasang's muscular back regard me for the last time, though now one of its tranquil eyes was obscured by the shoulder strap of Martin's bag.
"So, we thought we'd head to Bangkok in a few days," said Martin, "See Ayutthaya and Kanchanaburi. Bridge on the River Kwai and all that. Then from there take the train down to Phuket. Have you ever been, Prasang?"
"No, master."
"Oh, I think you're going to love it. Bloody paradise, so I've heard. And you'll be our tour guide, won't you? Help us communicate with locals who might not speak English?"
"Yes, of course, master, I'll be happy to serve my masters however I can."
Martin chuckled and patted him on the back.
"And maybe we'll hold off on the girls' shopping day for now," said Gary, seeming to sense how uncomfortable Prasang had been at the idea. "We'll try out some of Master Jim's clothes on you tomorrow. Although what you're wearing right now is rather fetching, I must say. Could we have you like this for the rest of the trip? You've such a stunning body it seems a shame to cover it with anything at all."
"I also thought I might do a piece on you for my magazine, Prasang, if you're up for it," said Martin. "Something along the lines of, `How to Employ a Handsome Thai Slave for a Month,' has a nice ring, don't you think?"
I stood watching for some time as they moved down the beach. Eventually, their voices were drowned out by the crashing waves and the dome of light got smaller and smaller until I couldn't see it any longer.
...
And then I was alone.
There was no one else on the dark beach at this late hour and only one room at the hotel still had its light on.
Up above, the moon was bright and the Milky Way shone blue and violet across the night sky.
I picked up my sun hat off the table, then the racquet-shaped bug zapper, still sitting amongst the beer bottles and half-eaten fruit plate.
I examined it in the moonlight and got a feel for it in my hand.
You could have said it was a shame I forgot to pass it on to Martin and Gary, but of course I hadn't forgotten.
It was one more mercy I decided to grant Prasang, who had enough of those itchy red bumps on his poor ass to last at least a week.
How he would manage to sit down on the bus back to Bangkok I simply didn't know.
I practiced my forehand backswing a few times, not thinking of tennis, but of Scott locked in his spanking tower.
With Prasang out of the picture, it was time for me to readjust my attention back to my American slave, and this particular tool had his naughty naked buns written all over it.
Scott had been a bad boy and he knew it. He was in for the spanking of his life and I needed to employ whatever wicked instruments I could find to make it particularly memorable.
Knowing him, he would expect nothing less.
All those itchy little spots would be all the more visible on Scott's light skin than they were on Prasang. I could imagine them dotting his bright red ass like the achenes on a strawberry for a month.
He might simply have to insist on one of those standing computer desks at work.
So, sun hat on my head and bug zapper in my hand, I made my way around the side of the quiet hotel with its grass roof bar toward the cement walkway that connected the whole of Pattaya Beach.
Even at this late hour, it was lit up with overhanging lamp posts.
One or two cars drove past on the road running parallel. The many shops, restaurants, and bars were closed, save for a few here and there catering to night owl tourists.
The lampposts above my head were swarming with bugs. I swung my zapper to and fro and was occasionally rewarded with an electric snap.
After about an hour of nothing but the sound of my flip flops dragging along the pavement, there came a thrumming in my ears.
I must have been deep in thought, for when I looked up, I was suddenly back in the central part of the beach.
There were people everywhere and everything was alive and thumping around me.
All the bars in this section were lit up with colorful neon and spinning disco lights. Pop and techno blasted from their open entryways.
I passed a hoard of tuk tuk drivers parked on the road. They swarmed me when they saw me coming.
"Sir, you need a ride, sir?"
"I'll take you to your hotel, sir. Very cheap, only five baht!"
These men were beautiful the way all Thai men are beautiful with their orange-brown skin and shining black eyes.
All the same, I waved them away, still a little too wound up to go straight back just yet.
I headed down to the beach. The sea of umbrellas I'd seen that afternoon were cleared away and the sand itself was lit by lamp posts.
I weaved my way through a cacophony of languages and accents. The beach was full of beautiful, scantily-clad male specimens representing the four corners of the earth.
I passed a group of golden-haired, muscled jocks in skintight surfing gear. They held shortboards under their arms and jabbered away in some Scandinavian language.
Almost as a reflex, I raised my zapper to the perfectly-defined buns of the one closest to me.
In that outfit, he was practically begging for it.
ZAP! "AAH!"
He yelped in a comically girlish fashion and danced forward into one of his friends.
He whipped around, eyes flashing. "What the fuck man? What the hell is that thing?"
"Sorry," I said, wearing my most unassuming smile, "Mosquito. Thailand's full of malaria, you know? Can't be too careful."
The Scandinavian hunks glared at me while the one I had just zapped rubbed his sore butt.
"Asshole!" One of his friends said. I gave a solute with the zapper and went on my way.
As the Pattaya City sign on its little hill came into view, I reached into my pocket and caressed Prasang's briefs from Male Body Palace.
I considered that he would likely have to pass through all this with his new masters on the way to their hotel.
Would they make him walk it naked? Naked, blindfolded, and weighed down with duffel bags? Or would they allow him at least one minimal article of clothing?
That, I supposed, would be up to them.
As I rubbed the silky briefs in my hand, I started ruminating again.
What if Martin and Gary had never appeared? What if I hadn't passed Prasang off to them?
What if, instead, I had bought him a plane ticket and taken him back to America? Back to the apartment where Scott so eagerly awaited my return?
I had certainly brought up the idea of other slaves to him before.
One night, I was splayed out on our sofa in my t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms with Scott on all fours, blindfolded and at attention, on the floor beside me.
His cock and balls were locked in their chastity device and the black vibrator buzzed away inside his hole like a worker bee.
In the full-length mirror on the opposite wall, I could see the end sticking out of the pink rosebud between his cheeks like a wicked stinger. Lube seeped from his hole in an oily trail down onto his captive balls, making them slick and shiny.
This was one of my favorite ways to torment Scott: Denying him the ability to come for an entire week or more while keeping his hole alert and stimulated.
On this occasion, he was already going stir crazy in that thing, made evident by a seemingly unending trail of pre-cum drooling out of the plastic slit of his cock cage and onto the carpet between his legs.
To keep his mind occupied, I was dipping my fingers into a bowl of hummus and making him to lick it off.
He slurped and suckled at my fingers like they were chicken bones, making sure to convey how badly he wanted his cock released.
"You know, Scott," I said, circling his mouth with a hummus-covered finger as he tried to get at it with his tongue. "I'm starting to think maybe you need a brother."
He paused to consider this. I watched the gears turn in his blindfolded head.
"A...a brother, master?" In his current state, it would have been hard for him to contemplate much of anything other than the vibrator working away deep inside his ass and the very real need to have his cock liberated and milked, thus taking some of the agonizing pressure off his full, engorged balls.
"Yes, Scott," I said, pulling off his blindfold. His blue eyes blinked as they adjusted to the light.
I got a tissue and started wiping the hummus and saliva off of his face. I loved doing this after he'd made a mess of himself eating because I hadn't allowed him to use his hands.
It made him seem all the more dependent on me and my guidance. My hopeless, messy boy.
"I worry about you sometimes, alone in here all the time with just your master."
In the real world, Scott actually did have some social outlets. The ones he chose to take, at least.
There were office functions he attended and coworkers he went out with from time to time, though he told me most of them were married with kids and busy with their own lives.
Since sculpting himself into a beautiful beefcake, he had taken more interest in athletics, going so far as to join his company baseball team.
I had attended quite a few of his games, making sure to take lots of photos and videos of him on the field. I loved the way he looked in his uniform and I wasn't the only one.
I heard women talking about him on the bleachers on more than one occasion.
"That's that Scott Thompson, isn't it? Damn he's fine. Married, though, isn't he?"
I smiled. Yes, something like that.
While he was on the team, I granted him permission to wear two articles of clothing around the apartment besides his collar: his baseball cap and jockstrap. I loved the way he looked with his big, tight ass framed in those white straps, plus the cap could be pulled down over his eyes to double as a blindfold.
But he played for just one season and didn't sign up again. "It's just not my thing, master. I love training my body, it's just..."
"Yes, Scott, tell me."
"It just feels weird to do it with clothes on, you know? I just really like working out naked."
He had even attended a church group on Sunday evenings for a time before apparently losing interest in that, as well.
Too much of a clash with his life as a sex slave, perhaps?
Thus he continued coming to me each night, the same introverted and rather enigmatic guy who had walked through my door two and a half years ago. It seemed nothing could match the high he got from being tormented and humiliated by me.
He even said he felt more like himself in our apartment all the time. "I'm just finding it harder and harder to do things while wearing clothes."
If that was what he wanted, I in my infinite generosity was more than happy to oblige.
All the same, I was itching to expand both our horizons.
"A boy like you should have other boys to play with," I continued. "Other boys to do your naked workouts in the dungym with. To help you shave those hard to reach areas when I'm not here to help you.
"A boy you can roughhouse with when your cock and balls are locked up and you need to get the sexual frustration out of your system."
Amazingly, the trail of pre-cum was still streaming out of him, unbroken.
I reached between his legs and snatched it up. It still did not break, but spun itself around my hand like one of those stringy slime toys that stick themselves onto windows.
I held it to Scott and so he could lick up his own seepage.
"A boy who could help you lick up these gooey trails you leave around the apartment."
He smiled and began to blush.
"Just teasing, Scott, you know how much I love your gooey trails."
"They're just for you, master," he said, still licking away at my hand.
I laughed. "So, would you like that, my good boy? Would you like me to get you a playmate?"
Walking along the beach now, I couldn't help but consider what an excellent "playmate" Prasang would have made for Scott.
Despite how jealous and insecure Scott had been about this whole thing, they were so much alike in so many ways.
I could just imagine what it would be like to have the two of them together. I would make sure they did everything as a pair. Scott, being the older and more experienced of the two, would be the "big brother," showing his "little brother" the ins and outs of domestic servitude.
They would do their naked daily workouts together, pushing each other to get bigger and bulkier for me.
"Just three more reps, big brother, you can do it!"
I could see them in the kitchen together, the two most irresistible bubble butts I had ever known standing side by side, probably blushing from their most recent spankings.
"Don't forget the cilantro this time, little brother," I could hear Scott saying, "or Master will spank us both again."
Scott, who was just shy of six feet, would be the taller of the two. Though Prasang would unquestionably be the more well-endowed.
I would get Prasang his own dog dish next to Scott's and the two of them could eat on the floor beside my chair. Naked asses in the air, their pink holes clutching and winking at me as they devoured their food.
Afterwards, I would wipe my messy boys' mouths clean or even make them lick the food off each others' faces.
I would have Prasang cut his hair to the same length as Scott's and get them matching leather collars with tags ("Lost slave: return to Master Jim for a reward").
I would make a new rule that they were never to shower alone without their "brother."
"Rule twelve," I could hear Scott reciting, "I am not to wash myself unless my little brother washes with me. I am to assist him in cleaning his body completely, including under his balls and inside his hole, and he is to do the same for me.
Prasang would then have to say the same about his "big brother."
I would, of course, be there to supervise at all times from a stool by the bathtub and lend a hand whenever needed.
They would brush each others' teeth in the morning and before bed.
They would scrub every inch of the apartment on their hands and knees until it was spotless.
They would rub each other's magnificent, toned bodies with oil to make every curve and muscle stand out, with Scott's peaches-and-cream skin gleaming next to Prasang's caramel skin.
They would make out together, groom each other, fuck and punish each other.
They would become as twins from separate wombs, united in their unique desire to please their master.
But this, of course, was all just my sexual fantasies running wild.
Neither of them would ever go for it, I was almost certain.
With everything Scott allowed me to do to him, the one place he had always shown reluctance was in being shared with another man, whether that be another master or slave.
I had brought up the "playmate" idea with him several times more, even mentioned how much pleasure it would bring me to watch him fucked and stretched by a man with a tool bigger and thicker than my own (another way in which Prasang would have been perfect).
Scott never flat out said "no" to me, but whenever I started talking this way, he would get down between my legs, unzip my pants and take out my cock. He would stroke me until I was hard, then smooch and slurp and lick, all the while glancing up at me with pitiful puppy dog eyes.
"Okay, Scott," I would sigh, stroking his hair and scratching beneath his collar, "I get the message. You're my boy. My good boy. You and you alone." He would show his gratitude by taking me all the way down his throat with satisfying gulps.
And if Scott wasn't up for it, then Prasang definitely wouldn't be.
For one thing, he would surely not have wanted to leave Thailand anytime soon, if indeed he ever wanted to leave at all.
For another thing, Prasang, I was sure, was in this strictly for the money and what it meant for him and his mother and sisters.
I would like to have believed he enjoyed being a slave on some level, if only because the experience would not be quite so agonizing for him.
I didn't think so, though. I was sure he was, at the least, a very good actor who knew how to behave like the world's best boyfriend even under the most grueling of circumstances. At the most, an unbelievably good-hearted guy who gave 110% to whatever challenge had been put to him on behalf of those he loved.
Based on how he interacted with the gorgeous girls we came in contact with, I believed him to be firmly heterosexual, more so than Scott was or had ever been.
What Prasang needed was to settle down with a woman as beautiful as him.
He deserved to be happy. I couldn't think of anyone who deserved it more.
Once he collected on that still-more-massive chunk of change from Martin and Gary, I hoped he would use it to get wherever he wanted to go and be whatever he wanted to be from then on.
But if he did need my help, I would do whatever I could as his master, even if it meant coming all the way back to Thailand to do so.
He was worth it and he deserved it.
THE END
(Epilogue to follow)