Adrift in bangkok

[masterblaster1405]

I sat at the table, wishing I were elsewhere. I was wearing one of the two St Laurent dresses I had packed, a black A-line number , relieved it wasn't as sexy as my others. It had long sleeves and covered my thighs to just above my knees. I had put my hair up, and I wore a wide black choker round my neck that I had picked up in a mall this afternoon.


Professor Wu Yongjie held court at the table with his glamorous assistants on either side of him. I had taken an instant dislike to all of them. Him, for his arrogance and domineering manner and outright rudeness to the hotel staff, or anyone I guess he considered below him, and them for the way that they pandered to him, giggling at his jokes and simpering at him.
His assistants were already wary of me, an attractive overseas Chinese girl, and possible competition? They were welcome to him. One of the girls looked at me curiously then with a more penetrating stare. I looked away and said something about the food to my neighbour. But I was aware of her still staring at me. She leaned over to whisper to Professor Wu. My heart sank and I felt myself colouring. Had they recognized me?
'That's a nice choker', she said with a unpleasant smile, 'may I see it?' and she held out her hand. Did she expect me to take it off and pass it to her?
'Chokers are good for hiding things' she went on. My heart was pounding and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
I stood in front of the mirror, looking at myself. Was this girl still me? I studied the choker turning my head from side to side. Nothing to see. I gently rolled down the choker, and there was the dark red love bite, lip-shaped on my neck. I fingered it pensively. I lifted the hem of my dress exposing my thighs and looking at the bruises. I was thankful for the long sleeves which hid more. I went into a cubicle to pee and sat for a while. I heard the door open followed by voices. Prof Wu's companions!
'I think it's her!' One of them said.
'It looks like her but it can't be. She's a slut for sure, but I can't imagine her being there, doing that?' the other sounded doubtful. Sadly her reservations were not justified.
'Then why is she wearing that choker? It doesn't go with her dress, it could be hiding that love-bite, remember?'
I remembered. How could I forget? Everything was so fresh in my mind, and I drifted back to the beginning...
Yes, all this has been in my mind since the events happened. And yes, it's a true story that I experienced before the world changed with Covid. Was it only two years ago? I won't give any indication where I work as I certainly don't want anyone to identify me from this. The college and Medical College I mention also are not the actual ones although they give the idea of my background, of the kind of girl I am.
I was 26 years old at the time and had been married for just over a year to my steady accountant boyfriend of the last 3 years. A comfortable life, maybe too routine? My husband and I are both very busy in our careers, and always tired by bedtime. Sex was still good, but I doubted that we fucked more than once a week. Perhaps our lives were lacking in passion and excitement?
In our early days I loved to be tied up, as previous bfs had done. I still remember the thrill of being tied, spreadeagled on our bed. The feeling of helplessness was such a turn on, although I had never really considered myself as submissive. I'm not sure my husband was so keen, but he went along with it. Perhaps I felt wistful sometimes?
At the time I was attending a medical conference in Bangkok. I had arranged to stay on afterwards for a holiday with some girlfriends who were flying out. With this brief background lets return to me sitting in the loo, as my mind drifted back to the start...
I was feeling annoyed. The conference wasn't as interesting as I had hoped although my own presentation had been well received. Now I had done my talk and there was anti-climax.
The conference dinner this evening had dragged. I had wanted to sit at dinner with my friends but having won an award I had to sit at a table with the seniors. As I mentioned, Professor Wu Yongjie held court. I had learned that he was a bigwig from Beijing, and was struck by the deference that the other Asian doctors from Thailand, Taiwan and the Philippines showed him.
He was said to be very rich, his arrogance on full display and he always seemed to be surrounded by a bevy of pretty young interns and research assistants. I wondered maliciously if they had other duties? He was middle-aged, fat, balding and used to getting his way and now he seemed to be expecting an attractive young British Chinese doctor, me, to show him the same deference, even succumb to his supposed charms I wondered?
A couple of guys had hinted that now my research paper was in the running for the final prize, it would be worthwhile being nice to him. He was Chairman of the prize committee. Inwardly I felt a sense of outrage... did they expect me to sleep with him? Actually, I found him totally repulsive, and the thought of him touching me turned my stomach. Several times during dinner I found him leering at me, trying to catch my eye, otherwise he seemed bored. At least when shared that in common.
When someone at the table mentioned the red-light districts in Bangkok Professor Wu's attention seemed to perk up. A middle-aged American woman sitting opposite said that she could never understand how those girls could do those things for money, it was so demeaning. Professor Wu just laughed although his pretty assistants agreed with her, making clear their total disdain.
I tended to agree with them, feeling contempt for such low women, so far beneath me in status, although somehow I had always been curious about that world. I was an avid reader of Anais Ninn, Collette, Angela Carter and their stories of the demi monde. I remember being turned on by a Guy de Maupassant story when I was at college about a wealthy lady being mistaken for a prostitute.
I occupied a completely different world growing up in Hampstead, attending South Hampstead college for Girls followed by Oxford and St Thomas' Hospital Medical college and now pursuing my hospital career in the NHS. I was aware that I was fortunate in my life, and I also knew that I had been spoilt, the apple of my wealthy parents' eye. My two brothers had always looked out for me too.
At last dinner was finished and we all moved through to the dance area. On the dance floor in my LBD, (OK this one was red!) 

I had swayed to the rhythms of indifferent music, mostly K-pop and Canto-pop with a few international hits thrown in. Haha, I admit as usual I started to feel a bit of a dancing queen not that I seemed to command the deference appropriate to royalty. Was my dress too short?
Several times I had to smile sweetly and twist away from the arms of an over-amorous senior colleague. The Japanese and Chinese doctors seemed to feel less reserve in groping me than their Western counterparts, and I felt more than a few hands on my ass in the darkness of the dance floor with flashing lasers playing over us. Don't say I was aroused!
When I saw Professor Wu approaching me, I slipped away. Eventually I extricated myself from the dance floor and went for some drinks in the hotel bar with my colleagues. We spent a pleasant hour or so chatting and drinking too much. At around 11pm we said our goodnights. I made a quick trip to the bathroom and then walked to the lifts, swaying slightly... too much wine, whisky? What else? The lift lobby was empty. As I waited somehow I felt expectant, wanting ...what? I thought of going up to my room, lying on bed, touching myself. I wanted release.
I paused at the lift, but didn't enter, turning on my heels. I wanted some air; my head was swimming slightly. I decided to go out by myself. I had already called home so no more duties there, my husband was working. I walked on down the street from the Marriott ... luxury conference hotel Asia style. So much grander than back home in London.
It had been raining earlier. Unconcerned, my feet led me onwards. I felt excited, not really knowing why. I gazed in the windows of stores stopping now and then to look. I walked on. The roads gradually changed, big stores and luxury restaurants becoming fewer and the road winding.
I walked further taking a few turns barely aware of the roads becoming narrowing, hardly noticing how the bars became smaller, crowded, cheap neon glaring on the wet pavement. I could not walk elegantly in my heels, not after so much whisky, but at least I could still stand, walk.
It wasn't too hot at this time of year. Too drunk, I had left my raincoat back in the hotel bar. Would I get it back, a present from my husband? Fuck! I never really liked that coat and it had stopped raining. I didn't miss the coat, but my red minidress was quite short; well I decided, I didn't care about my bare thighs. Aware of admiring glances from guys sitting, drinking beer and whisky as I passed, I smiled back and flounced past... swaying my ass more provocatively?
Restaurants and cafes gave way to different bars. They were all similar with Agogo featuring in their names. Thai and Chinese girls, looking not so different from me perched on stools waiting for customers under the watchful eye of their mamasan. There were too many people walking here and I turned down a small side street still with small bars and massage parlours.
I felt excited, alive, a bit drunk? Sure. My friends had gone back to their rooms early, which annoyed me, but I hadn't been ready for bed. Conference begins early tomorrow? WTF I could just go in to one of these places for another drink! I wished I had stopped at one of the nicer cafes I had passed.
I hesitated in front of a doorway. Shall I go in or better just head back now? Better the latter, but the doorman swung open the door smiling at me. I crossed the threshold into this faceless bar and entered. Brash music hit me and I inhaled the smell of alcohol and sweat and tobacco and,,, sex? I felt intoxicated, elated. I wanted to drink, but I knew I would need to be alert, careful.
There was a good chance some guy would try to chat me up. But I admitted to myself that I wanted to feel desired, I was ready to flirt a bit. I thought I could extricate myself before anything too much happened that I would regret later. A snog? Groping hands like at the conference dinner? Could I let them go a little bit further here! I was feeling a little turned on. It was quite dark, with flashing lights... many people, a stage with gyrating forms, noise, bustle, life.
I stood near the entrance surveying the scene. As my eyes became more accustomed to the dark I wasn't sure this was the best place for me to have a drink. Most people in the bar were men, either single or in small groups. There were women too, nearly all of them were wearing skimpy bikinis. Then I noticed some were completely naked! They seemed to be waitresses carrying drinks, but I saw some of them sitting with guys.
I noticed one naked girl walking back to the bar counter with an empty tray. As she passed a table, a guy grasped her wrist and pulled her to him, she landed in his lap, sitting there. I was amazed, having expected her to slap him and call the bouncers. I quickly realized this was her role. Then I became aware of several girls kneeling under tables, their heads moving up and down between customer's legs.
I gawped fascinated. I turned to leave thinking I had seen enough and would certainly have a story to tell my friends now. I decided the luxury of the Marriott had something going for it after all and anticipated following my original plan of touching myself, regretting that I had forgotten to bring my little lipstick vibrator on this trip. With this in my mind I was suddenly aware of movement at the corner of my eye as I moved back towards the entrance.
She came to me quickly. The proprietress, huge, like a procuress from an ancient story, familiar, ugly, fat, enchanting and vulgar. Uneducated, illiterate I guessed uncharitably. She came over to me at the door. Me! An upper class British Chinese doctor who had just this afternoon been praised by everyone for the quality of my research.
I was repelled but entranced by her as she held me in her eye. She looked me up and down appraising my body under my thin dress, calculating? She knew nothing of me, my intelligence, all the opportunities that had opened for my career, my wealthy husband. She just saw a small Chinese girl.
'You want to come here, you like it here'? She spat, in rasping tone, more a statement than a question. I gaped back, appalled, fascinated... tempted? Impossible!
'We always got job for pretty girl' She towered over me, 'You like it here?'
I was reeling slightly, I nodded meekly looking up at her. Surely I meant I liked it here? Not that I wanted to work here?? She seemed to assume the latter, without question, suddenly taking on the authoritarian position of my boss in our so brief relationship. She took my bare arm firmly drawing me away from the door into her world.
I looked back at the receding exit and suddenly felt a pang of fear in this dangerous place with its whirling tumult of sounds and sights, close now to the girls dancing half naked on the stage with its many poles. I had to skip to avoid the ankles of a naked girl under a table beside me sucking a customer.
'Oh fuck, yes!' he exclaimed. I realized he was ejaculating into her mouth. I felt a sense of shock. But I can't lie, I was also fascinated.
'Now just a minute...' I started to say, adopting my customary haughty tone when I wanted to put someone down. But she hadn't even heard me, she was waving someone over to her, still gripping my arm. I tried to shake her off but she held me firmly. I was dazed, barely taking in what she said.
'Yes, good you work here. Ah, I will call you Kitty'. She announced with finality. Kitty? It sounded too close to pussy for comfort, but I have to say I was a bit amused, and even thought I could play along with this awful low-class woman for a bit. How could they imagine I could become a bar girl?
'You will dance there, Kitty' she pointed at the bikini beauties on the stage. My new name? Oh my god what is she saying? Rules? She was telling me rules of the house I would have to follow?...
'...... Not allowed to wear underwear... not allowed to reject all the requirements of the guests, Hey, Hey, you did not hear me say?, ah! You can understand?'
'Oh... I understand.' Did I really?
'OK, OK... you go quick, change clothes'. My head was spinning slightly as another similar woman approached.
I was led firmly to the back of the bar down a short corridor and into a small room, It was a changing room. I was clutching my shoulder bag but she slipped the strap off my shoulder and put it on a table.
'Lift arms!' I raised my arms as if to say I surrender, expecting her to just look at my figure.
But before I could say that actually this was all a mistake, and it had gone far enough, she had taken hold of the short hem of my dress over my thighs and whipped it up over my head. My beautiful red Saint Laurent dress removed. I stand in my rather sexy Agent Provocateur bra and panties and see my slender figure small in the dirty mirror next to her bulk. I wished my lingerie was a bit more demure.
'Quick, take them off' She commands, while I just stand dumbly, uncertain beside her. She grasps my bare shoulders and shakes me!
'Stupid girl, turn round'. And she spins me around, I felt powerless in her strong grip. Tug, tug I felt as she impatiently unfastens my bra; it drops to the ground. I look at it on the floor. I was stunned. How did she dare to treat me like this.
'Panties!' She almost screams, hooks her thumbs into their waist band and tugs. I am naked.
Standing behind me with her hands gripping my shoulders she turns me to the mirror and we both regard my small nude body. Who is that girl? Can it really be me? I suddenly felt very vulnerable, slightly afraid of these big dominant women as I feel her hand running over my ass.
She pushes flimsy garments at me, no dress. Silk-like, pretty, I muse... oh no, cheap nylon, shiny, definitely not Agent Provocateur, see-through bra, just that? 


 
Keen to cover my nakedness, I fumble to put on my new working clothes under her stern gaze. They barely cover me. I can make out my brown nipples through the gauzy material.. A tiny thong, the small dark inverted triangle of my pussy just discernable,.. accessible, and fuck-me heels. Nothing my own. She takes some lipstick and writes a big red 43 on my thigh. Branded as a bar girl?
'Lips too. You number 43' she says. Obediently, facing the mirror I rouge my lips in lurid glossy scarlet. Do I belong here? I am dazed, whirling, scared and excited. She leads me back into the bar. Mamasan looks me over approvingly, a typical bar girl.
'Yes, customers will like, now you go dance' she motioned me up some steps onto the two level stage between two poles.
I am there, loud music, dancing girls, what happened? This morning I was on another stage speaking, applause when I finished. I was demure, but I knew some in the audience were mentally undressing me. I had sometimes been typecast before I got married, as a cute sexy Asian student and then junior doctor. I still look much younger than my 26 years. Now I am one among many, gogo girls in skimpy bikinis.
What else can I do? I start to move, to dance in time with the others. Time passes, this is OK, I can do this. It's not so demeaning I tell myself. Maybe I can even tell my friends over a glass of chardonnay about the time I spent dancing on stage in a girly bar! I won't mention my bra and panties were barely there .
Oh yes, of course, I wasn't like the other girls. 

A few songs... maybe 15 minutes dancing, I am drunk, but I'm enjoying myself, moving sexily, gyrating more provocatively now holding onto a pole... more eyes on me I can see as I catch guys eyes here and there, I smile and nod at them acknowledging their appreciation, and notice a couple of them waving over a waitress. A few more minutes and its time to make my excuses and leave. Return to my cozy hotel. Snuggle between my luxurious soft Marriott bed sheets, touch my clitoris... Oh! something happened?

Did I miss a sign? I can feel the atmosphere change, an excitement entering the bar, a sense of anticipation. The music has changed too. I see girls pulling on ties on their bras, at their hips on their panties. The girls at the front on the lower stage within touching distance of the leering customers are now naked!
They must be different from us here at the back, we should be just dancers, yes that's it. But the girls around me are starting to do the same. I feel a slight panic. I have never been an exhibitionist. On holiday at the beach I often feel slightly embarrassed in my bikini when guys look at me. Even though I'm small, I know guys find me attractive. I can feel guys mentally undressing me, at work, on the underground, in the park back home. But only my husband and my few boyfriends have ever seen me naked.
Suddenly someone tugs on my ties... my bra, my panties slip from my body.... I am naked with the others, only my number in lipstick on my thigh... number 43. I am dancing again. Dancing queen? Not so regal now. There is a gap in front of me, I am pushed forwards gently, I can't avoid it and step down; I am at the front now on the lower stage, barely raised, beery faces right in front of me. I feel myself being sucked in.
Again laser green light playing but this time on my nudity. Once again as at the conference I can see guys sitting just below me watching me. Looking straight at my pussy! They can reach out and touch me! Some do, a hand brushes my inner thigh. I twist away seductively before he touches my pussy.

'Number 6, number 17, number 19, number 43, number 45' A sing song voice calling.... Number 43? What?
'Yes Kitty, customer want you, you go to cubicle 6 up there'. Mamasan beckons to me seeing my uncertainty.
My chance at last, I can slip back to the changing room, get dressed and escape. There is a little queue, five naked girls with numbers on our thighs, I am one, the girl behind me guides me and we go past the changing room, I hesitate looking back. But with the girl behind me impatiently saying something I didn't understand, reluctantly I went up the stairs in the corner, along a short landing, into a kind of ante room with a woman sitting behind a long desk. A guy is there counting out notes from his wallet. I have already realized this isn't an upmarket bar.
'500' the woman says. Dollars I assume. Baht she clarifies in a bored tone.
Oh shit, that's about £10!! What's that for? We all pause in the room. I look around at my new colleagues. We are standing together naked. I am paler than most, one other looks Chinese too.

I am not the smallest, two girls smaller than me... my boobs are small but the girl ahead of me is even flatter, I have nice curves though, many guys watched our little procession some I could feel on me. I am not shaved but just a small triangle of pubic hair. Most of the girls are shaved, one other is more hairy...
I realise I am the average one in this group. A group of small Asian prostitutes in a Bangkok brothel\
 I certainly wasn't a typical submissive Asian bar girl like my new friends.
Another flashback, I recalled a recent girl's night out with some friends. A sort of truth or dare game had kicked off. Someone had asked another friend if she had ever been paid for sex. The answer of course was an indignant and emphatic, No! I tried to focus, if I wasn't very careful now, this would always be with me for the rest of my life.
I would always have to acknowledge to myself at least, that I had been a cheap brothel whore. There would be no going back... ever. Yes, it was time to take control, to remember that I am a beautiful, intelligent, successful, and strong woman. Time to act and set that Mamasan bitch straight.
Ouch! A slap on my ass... from Mamasan! I hadn't seen her following us upstairs. Checking on her new girl? How dare she? Another slap... I squeal, my fear coming back, my resolve crumbling, and tears welling in my eyes.
'Number 6!' she barks at me. 'Customer don't expect whore to keep him waiting'. I wiped my eyes.
I had scorned her but it's quite clear, I realise it is she who looks down on me! But then I am the one who is naked with a number on my thigh. How to get out of this? Will they let me go? We are propelled along a narrow corridor, I don't even dare protest, five small naked girls with numbers on our thighs. I am vaguely aware the other girls pick up something from a table as we all trot past.
They are giggling, I am bewildered. Oh I realise, they picked up condoms. Shit I thought, I didn't get any. I'm not on the pill! Well I reassure myself, I'm not going to be in that position once I explain the mistake. I feel a bit breathless and can feel my pulse racing. There are cubicles on right and left. I can hear grunting, some curtains not fully closed I catch images of guys between girls bare legs, their buttocks rising and falling. Another girl kneeling sucking, sperm dribbling from her mouth.
I am appalled, fascinated, I have never been anywhere remotely like this. My mind flashes to trips to Amsterdam, walking through the red light district, excited, feeling ashamed but secretly wondering what it is like behind the curtains. I feel hot, flushing, I wish I were sober, could think clearly.
OMG, I am really here. I will just explain the mistake to the guy waiting, my last chance. Slap! Oooh I squeal again, I hear music drifting down the corridor from the bar, reduced to a thumping bass, in time with my racing heart.
'Go in here, bitch', it is the second Mamasan... number two in this bar who undressed me?