"You're putting on quite a show over there," called a voice in the darkness. We turned around, startled.
I assumed the beach was more or less empty, save for the lone bartender up near the resort. But it would appear I was so caught up in the little "game" I was putting Prasang through that I failed to notice the arrival of two others.
Two men sat beneath an umbrella twenty feet away from us. Their faces were illuminated by a little portable lantern, probably brought out for them when they rented the beach chairs.
They were older, fifties or sixties. They both wore beards and, like me, were on the beefy side. Also like me, they wore button-down Hawaiian shirts and baggy cargo shorts.
"If the two of you would care for some fresh fruit. A brew or two, you're welcome to it." The guy speaking had a thick Australian accent.
I was not particularly thrilled by the intrusion and told Prasang to wait there a minute and catch his breath.
My twenty-four year old Thai boy was, of course, clothed only in the black leather dog collar and matching cuffs I could use to restrain him, not to mention the wooden clothespins biting into his nipples, belly button, and the loose skin at the bottom of his scrotum.
I invited him to sit in the beach chair, but he visibly flinched at the idea. After the walloping I'd given him with the bug zapper, his juicy, naked buns were probably too sore to sit down on.
I went over to shake hands with the men. They introduced themselves as Martin and Gary. Martin, who had been doing the speaking, reiterated that we were welcome to what they had to offer.
Indeed they had ordered an elaborate fruit plate from the bar, complete with strawberries, kiwis, bananas, slices of durian, and even a shaved pineapple. They were both nursing frosty bottles of Victoria Bitter.
The two men exchanged looks, then Martin spoke up again. "We were rather enjoying the show you were putting on with your young lad, there. He's quite a specimen. Gary was saying as much just now, weren't you, Gary?"
Gary blushed a bit, clearly the shyer of the two. His hair and beard were whiter than Martin's, though his face was slightly more youthful. "That I was...that I was."
"I don't imagine you two trekked all the way to this remote side of Pattaya to be spied on. However, that game you invented looked like a good bit of fun and we couldn't help wondering if you might need a few extra players. We're always up for trying new things, aren't we, Gary?"
"Right you are, mate," Gary echoed. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."
I studied them for a moment, the gears turning in my head. I didn't quite know what to make of these two middle-aged tourists whose curiosity was clearly peeked by Prasang and the power I wielded over him.
Then I remembered my own rule of allowing my boy's body to be used and abused by anyone who showed an interest in doing so. Thus far on the trip, a lot of people had.
Sharing him with Chakrii and Gamon back in Bangkok at the clothing store Sexy Guy had been a huge turn on to say the least. They had texted me a few times since we left, hoping I'd swing by with Prasang again soon.
Then, of course, there were the tourists I'd obliged with a photoshoot with my beautiful boy at the Royal Elephant Hotel earlier that day where I forced him to stand naked on the patio.
The young, pudgy gay man had enjoyed spanking Prasang's irresistibly perfect buns and sticking his tongue down his throat. Prasang had then thanked him profusely for using him despite the fact he obviously had not enjoyed it.
But that, of course, was the whole point. Prasang, athletic, straight, Thai god that he was, was being paid handsomely to be used by me and any other man I saw fit.
It was about our pleasure, not his.
How could I deny these two Australian gentlemen the use of my Thai boy when it was, in fact, his job to satisfy their every whim?
I put two fingers to my lips and whistled into the darkness. "Prasang, come! Get your naked, muscular buns over here and meet your new masters!" Martin and Gary looked at each other again, smiles playing upon their faces.
Prasang scrambled into the light of the little portable lantern, not wanting to disappoint me. Completely naked in the presence of these strangers, he instinctively made to cover his groin. Then, remembering that I would certainly punish him if he tried to cover himself in any way, he folded his hands behind his back, presenting his sizable, flaccid cock to the two gentlemen.
He had shot a second load not more than twenty minutes ago. I made him chug down the entirety of his own spooge in a bottle of Singha, plus two other frosty bottles. He was pretty tipsy by now and there was a weave to his walk when he came to us.
"What do you say to your new masters, boy?" I asked with authority.
Prasang kept his eyes to the ground, his handsome face blushing nicely in his nakedness. He was still panting from the exertion of the game I'd been playing with him.
He recited his slave-boy monologue, slowly, sensually, as I had taught him. "Dear masters, you are so sexy and I wanted you the minute I saw you. You make my fat Thai boy cock hard. Harder than any girl or woman ever... (gulp) ever could." He swallowed uncomfortably against the tightness of his collar. "Please, use and enjoy my naked body however you wish. My greatest desire is to bring you pleasure."
He recited this like a champ in near flawless English. Martin and Gary stared at him, speechless. Their eyes grazed his perfect athletic body, cinnamon brown from the day's sun. His skin gleamed with health in the lamp light. Even Martin was lost for words and only nodded.
"As you can see, he's very well trained," I said. "He'll do whatever you ask. Isn't that right, Prasang?"
Prasang swallowed hard again under his collar. "Yes...yes masters. Whatever you ask."
"You said you were interested in joining in our little game, is that correct?"
The two men were still at a loss, but I saw the thrill, the anticipation rising in their faces (and probably their cocks) as they continued to admire my sexy young man.
They were surely beginning to imagine all the wicked and wonderful things they might make him do, knowing he would submit completely to their will.
I ordered Prasang to bring everything over to where Martin and Gary were sitting, including my beach chair so that we could all sit together.
Once I was comfortable, Prasang stood before us, waiting. A subject before three masters on their thrones.
I took up the green and purple tennis ball and set the stopwatch on my phone. "Ready, Prasang...fetch!"
I threw it off to my far right and Prasang tore after it toward the dark ocean.
Sadly for him, he was a bit off his game at this point. He was swerving unsteadily from the cum-laced beer I had forced on him and his legs buckled beneath him twice as they churned the sand. It was also so dark out by now that it would be a challenge for him to even spot the ball out there.
But of course rules were rules.
I held up his time and shook my head. "Twenty-three seconds. Very disappointing, Prasang. You'll have to be punished for that."
I pointed at the bug zapper and he handed it to me. "Assume the position, boy. Grab your ankles. Naked buns in the air and facing me."
He did as I asked. His perfect round ass had already been much abused by the bug zapper. Itchy, dark red welts the size of cherries were forming all over it.
The Buddhist tattoo that covered his back and arms always made it appear he was wearing a sleeve on his upper body. Thus, his luscious, protruding buns looked all the more naked and vulnerable.
I filled Martin and Gary in on the rules of the game and explained that Prasang had failed to retrieve the ball within fifteen seconds.
"Five zaps, Prasang, count these off." His buns were served up to me like fresh sweet rolls. I tapped them with the zapper.
ZAP! "ARRCK, one! Forgive me master!" The electric zaps were so intense that he staggered forward and had to walk it off in a half circle before returning and grabbing his ankles again.
Maybe all that beer was taking effect and making it harder to tolerate the pain. Or maybe it was that there were now welts forming upon welts and the pain was more intense. Either way, after he danced around like that two more times, I had had enough.
"Starting from the beginning, Prasang, and new rule. Every time you leave your position, we start over from the beginning, understood?"
He gasped for breath. I saw the fear growing in his eyes at my displeasure. "Yes, master." He bent down and grabbed his ankles again.
Zap! "UMPH, one! Forgive me, master." ZAP! "ARRMF, two! Forgive me, master." He squeezed his ankles as hard as he could and managed to hold his position, but he cried out more loudly than ever and by the end his buttocks were trembling like jello. I could hear him sniffling.
After distributing five successful shocks, I offered the zapper to Martin and Gary.
Martin was seated to my far right with Gary in the middle. Instead of accepting the bug zapper, he undid his belt buckle and pulled a thick, leather brown belt loose from his cargo shorts.
"This is the way my daddy always taught me a lesson," he said, folding the leather strap and smacking it hard against his palm. "Get that big todger over here, Prasang."
Prasang, still bent over and grabbing his ankles, looked at me, perhaps pleading silently as a tear slid down his nose. I looked at him like he was an idiot. "What are you waiting for? You heard Master Martin. Go and serve him. Now!"
My boy drew in a very deep breath and went to stand by Martin. I had put him through so much that day already, it was clear he was starting to burn out a little.
"Turn around, boy, stick that ruddy ass out! Hands behind your head! Legs spread like a good soldier, now!"
This time it was my turn to be amazed. Martin's voice boomed with authority. Out of nowhere, he had turned into a drill sergeant in the service of the Commonwealth. Former military man, it seemed.
Prasang was obviously scared of him. His nude body trembled in the cool night air as he followed Martin's commands. He put his hands behind his head like a prisoner and pushed his ass backward.
Martin stood up and clamped one hand on Prasang's shoulder. He stood perpendicular to the boy, raised the leather belt high and clapped it down hard on his already sore buttocks.
The impact was so loud it actually echoed off the white sand and waves. "Ouch!" Prasang cried out, his knees bending. "One, forgive me, master!" Another hard clap came down, offering Prasang no breaks. "AAH! Two, forgive me, master!"
Martin decided to give him ten lashes instead of five. "Oh, you're a big, strong boy, aren't you? You can handle it."
"Y-yes, master," said Prasang, his body quivering as he tried to remain composed.
The straps did not slice through his flesh the way the bug zapper did, thus staying in place was slightly less of a challenge.
All the same, it hurt just listening to it and I watched tears of pain and humiliation tumble down Prasang's face.
Apart from the welts from the bug zapper, his buns now burned bright red and looked hot enough to fry an egg on.
"Oh, we mustn't forget the wooden pegs, must we?" Martin called to me. "Rules of the game, after all. Two was it?"
"Yes," I said, "But as it's your first time playing, I'll give you four for good measure."
Prasang remained in his spanking position with his hands behind his head. Martin attached two more clothespins to his scrotum, putting one on either side of the one I had placed earlier, plus two on his earlobe. "Oh, well who's a pretty girl now? You're ready for a night on the town!" Martin teased, giving his face a pat.
Now it was Gary's turn. He had waited patiently, but he was openly hungry for Prasang's body and leered at it in naked desire.
He commanded Prasang to lay across him on his stomach on the beach chair. Prasang hissed in discomfort because of how his ass burned after Martin's lashings and because of the wooden clothespins biting into him.
At first, Gary merely wanted to touch and caress the boy's toned young body, appreciating it like the work of art it was. He grazed his fingertips over the boiling hot flesh of his buttocks.
Prasang let out a gasp of discomfort. His buns clenched and wiggled almost uncontrollably as Gary's hand explored them. The feeling was likely almost unbearable for Prasang, but his struggling was highly erotic to everyone watching.
"Shall I use you, Prasang?" Gary asked in a low voice.
"Yes, Master," Prasang whispered, eyes facing downward. "Please, use me."
Suddenly and without warming, Gary gave him five hard smacks on the ass in quick succession. It was not as vicious as either the zapper of the belt, but it was done with the speed of letters clocked by a typewriter.
Prasang cried out at the sudden, unexpected assault on his abused flesh. He had just enough time to brace himself before Gary delivered five more, than another five.
Prasang did his best not to cry out again, but he could not help hissing and whining through his clenched teeth.
When the punishment was over, I also gave Gary four clothespins to apply wherever he wished. The loose skin of Prasang's scrotum was clearly popular that evening as Gary clamped two more there, making five spread out nicely like a sort of reverse Statue of Liberty's crown. Then he put two more on each nipple, leaving both nipples heavy with three clothespins each.
Each time we applied new clothespins, Prasang's pain was dialed up another notch or two like the burner on a stove. It was a constant pain he could not escape and must have been intense.
"There, there, Prasang, you'll get used to it," said Martin as the boy hoisted himself up off Gary's lap. "Here, this should numb you up a bit. Try some of Australia's finest." He popped open a bottle of Victoria Bitter and commanded Prasang to get down on his knees next to his chair. Martin held it to the boy's lips and held his collar with his other hand as he chugged it all down. Prasang was getting ever more intoxicated as the night progressed and Martin made sure he didn't spill a drop.
After this, to the Thai boy's dismay, the game continued.
Martin and Gary got more and more drawn into controlling Prasang. They talked openly about his gorgeous body as he ran desperately for the ball in the darkness.
"Just look at that beautiful, peachy red bum go. I could watch that all day and all night."
"And that is one nice big brown sausage he's got between his legs, though, enit?" Gary added.
Prasang came in at a sad thirty-four seconds this time. Martin made him stand in Military position once again to apply the punishment. "I think another ten lashes are due, wouldn't you say, gents? That was simply pathetic, Prasang."
Prasang, still gasping and trembling from the exertion of retrieving the ball, was trying to prepare himself for ten more hard lashes from Martin.
"That is just the most perfect, heart-shaped ass," Gary said as his companion brought the belt down on it. SMACK! "OOMF, one, forgive me master!"
"So delicious I'd love to just take a bite."
On the second swing Martin stopped the belt midair before bringing it down again. "Well, by all means, sir."
Gary got down on his knees behind Prasang and clamped his teeth down on the perfect roundness of his bright red ass. He bit one cheek and then the other. It was hard enough to make Prasang whine and cry like a puppy.
"What do you say, Prasang?" I demanded.
"Thank you...master. Thank you for biting my naked Thai buns. It was...(sniff) it was a great honor, sir."
"Back in position, Prasang!" Martin barked, again the drill sergeant. Prasang nearly jumped out of his skin. "Ten more lashes on your bare naked ass. From the beginning, let's go!"
"Just remember," I told Gary off to the side as Martin delivered the boy ten more brutal lashes with the belt, "You make the rules. You can do whatever you want to him. Maybe you'd like something more passionate? A nice, deep kiss? Prasang is excellent boyfriend material. Aren't you, Prasang?"
"Ten, forgive me, master!" Prasang cried out after the last blow.
"Oh my, he's not even listening to me," I said in mock dismay. "What am I going to do with this boy? You wouldn't mind giving these nice men a good sensual makeout session, would you, Prasang? Why don't you show them what an excellent boyfriend you can be?"
For the moment, Prasang could think of little more than the excruciating pain he was in. His buns were clenched together tightly after the lashings. They were trembling so hard he might have been standing on a vibrating bed. He had a look on his face like that of a little boy about to cry during a preschool performance.
Hands still behind his head, his pretty black eyes were red from beer, exhaustion, and tears of pain. I thought for a moment he might simply pass out.
Yet, somehow, he managed to regain his focus and walk stiffly back toward Martin and Gary, ready to take on the task I had commanded him to.
Through the moisture in his eyes, he did his best "boyfriend look" and gazed at the two older men sensually. "I want you, you make my cock hard, can I (gulp) can I please be your boyfriend?"
It was the old classic I had taught him on our very first night together. He had seemed so full of life and confidence then with absolutely no idea what he was getting himself into.
Whatever lingering pain he was feeling, he sucked it up and pressed his full, luscious lips to Martin's. Martin was seized immediately by the sensation and grabbed a hold of Prasang's shoulders, kissing him passionately, forcing the boy's mouth open and inserting his tongue.
After a long while, savoring those lips like a luscious nectarine, Martin pulled away with a gasp, "Oh, crikey. Oh dear Lord, that's the stuff."
"Master Gary, now," I said.
Gary didn't miss a beat. Before Prasang could even turn to look at him, he was there. Gary seized him by the arms and pulled him to his chest. He clasped his hands onto each of Prasang's scorching, naked buttocks.
"Aah!" Prasang cried out as a lightning bolt of pain went through his body. It must have been like having your sunburn slapped, only worse.
"Say your line, Prasang," I said, "Don't keep Master Gary waiting."
"I want you (ouch) you make my cock hard, can I please be your (oof) boyfriend? RRMF!"
That was all Gary needed to hear. He plowed his tongue into Prasang as deeply as he could before the boy could catch a breath. He raped Prasang's mouth hard until me and Martin could his muffled chokes.
Gary ran his hand up and down the youth's back as they made out, then reached down to feel the big "sausage" between his legs.
Prasang squirmed in discomfort, spent and swollen as he was down there.
After both men had their fill of assaulting the young man's mouth, they returned to their wooden beach chairs.
"Prasang," I said, "Grab the backs of each chair to hold yourself up. Each of you grab one of his legs and spread them wide, if you would be so kind, that is."
They did as I asked, each man took one of his shapely, muscular legs and spread him wide between them, giving them full access to his cock and balls and the secret pink rosebud between his buns.
In their grip, Prasang was hoisted and pinned between the two beach chairs, arms and legs spread open in a jumping-jack position. His naked ass hovered between, suspended and struggling in midair with nowhere to rest it.
"Could we still have some of that fruit you offered?" I asked. I picked up a sliced strawberry and ran it down the center of Prasang's chest. I applied it to each of his nipples, swollen and plagued by those insidious clothespins as they were.
Prasang whined a bit as I ran the cut strawberry down his tight stomach to leave a few drops of juice in his navel, then down to his cock and balls, which were completely hairless from my careful shaving earlier.
"Taste yourself, Prasang." I popped the strawberry into his mouth. "You taste good, don't you?"
"Yes, master," he swallowed gingerly, "I taste good."
I picked up another strawberry and Martin and Gary followed my lead with sliced pieces of kiwi and durian.
Prasang sighed in a combination of pain and pleasure as the three of us painted trails of fruit juice down his body.
We stuffed all three, the strawberry, the kiwi, the durian, into his mouth at the same time. I loved the way his mouth looked crammed full, his cheeks bulging like that of a chipmunk.
It reminded me of the bus ride earlier that day when I had plugged his mouth up with sloppy, wet tissues, soaked in his own cum.
"Do you like it, Prasang?" I asked as he struggled to swallow down the fruit. "Yeff (gulp) yes, I like it, master." Martin and Gary started picking up strawberries and cherries in their teeth for him to bite and savor. He swallowed them down, which was always followed by a hard kiss, first by one man, then the other probing deep into his throat.
They went back and forth this way, Prasang accepting a piece of sliced fruit only to be assaulted by an older man's tongue.
They tugged at the clothespins on his nipples and belly button to make him grimace and gag. I enjoyed the sound of his chokes and whimpers as they satisfied their lust upon him.
Inevitably, Gary began to play with Prasang's big, flaccid cock, lying there on his belly like a tubesteak. Through all this stimulation, even after having already spurted to big loads that day, it was stirring and thickening once again.
To be continued...