Patricia and her Son
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Patricia Is Taken To Thailand For Punishment free porn video
"The captain has turned off the seat belt lights, feel free to move about the cabin." The voice continued to drone on, but Patricia turned to David and touched his arm. "That's it, they said it! Now will you tell me? Master?"
David turned toward her and smiled. "You really were waiting that whole time, weren't you?"
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Well, of course. And you promised that once we were in the air and they made the announcement, you'd tell me what this trip was all about. Thailand. I remember the last time we went to Thailand. The most intense rounds of training you ever put me through. It was incredible. Intense and incredible." She lowered her voice. "I never thought I'd want to go back, but I was wrong."
"It isn't what you think."
She settled back in her seat slightly. The look on his face was odd. He wasn't being playful, there was almost a resignation there. She remained quiet, watching him pull his thoughts together.
"I know about the bank account."
Patricia squirmed slightly in her seat. "What do you mean?" A pause. "Sir."
David leaned forward slightly and melodramatically rested his head in his hands. "Oh, I so wish you hadn't said that. That you at least stood up and admitted it."
She was silent. It was a huge miscalculation and she knew it. Should have known it all along.
"Twenty thousand dollars. Not bad. They said you opened it only four years ago. Incredible."
"It was..." she began but he waved his hand to cut her off.
"I don't want to know. It doesn't even matter."
He reached for his bag underneath the seat in front of him and pulled out a small notebook.
"Strike One: two years after we moved in together. An overnight party at your girlfriend's house. Remember? Then it was a second night, then a third. No phone call, no message. You could have called, emailed me, something to let me know what was going on."
"We just got..." Again he waved his hand.
"Don't make this harder than it has to be. Strike Two: John."
She didn't raise any objections, they both knew it was useless. It was at a party about two years ago, John was one of the slaves of a master who was a friend of David's. After a night of intense play, the two of them had been left alone while the masters went out for drinks. They'd gravitated toward each other and spent nearly an hour in each others' arms. But there had been video gear hooked up. They were broadcast live over the internet to a dozen or so BDSM sites. And to the pocket PC David's friend kept with him.
At that point, she'd been told that he was serious about keeping track of transgressions. She shook her head, told him that she understood. But she never really believed that strike three could mean anything much.
"The money is Strike Three. We need to deal with this."
Patricia closed her eyes. She felt a river of feelings going through her. Excitement - they were going to play with Su Da Lin again. Then, immediately, the fear that came with any encounter with the Thai woman. Confusion. Why hadn't he told her about it beforehand? The fear came back. Something bigger was going on.
He unlatched her tray table and dropped it into place. "I want you to sign this. It gives me access to the money as well. It will simply become a joint account." He slid a piece of paper onto the tray table and handed her a pen. She picked it up and signed.
"Good."
He motioned for the stewardess and asked her to bring two bottles of white wine. Patricia sat silently, sweating inside, waiting to see how much more he was going to tell her. The stewardess returned with the wine and David poured it into glasses for the two of them. They sipped in silence for a while, Patricia alternately looking out the window and at David. He'd leaned his head back onto the seat and closed his eyes.
After a long time, she spoke up. "Sir?"
He turned his head without opening his eyes. "Hm?"
"Sir, how long will we be there?"
David opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Very diplomatic of you. And an excellent and sensible question. The answer is complicated, so pay attention. I will be there a day or two. You will be there the rest of your life." He turned his head again and closed his eyes.
"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.
David didn't reply. She asked again. After a few minutes, he said: "there will be no Strike Four" then remained silent for the rest of the fourteen hour flight.
---
Patricia examined the plane carefully as David removed the single suitcase from the overhead carry on bin. There were dozens of people, most of them looked American or at least European. Maybe she could run across the aisle and try to get one of them to help her. Most of them looked like businessmen, a few were families. There were two or three young women traveling in a small group. None of this reassured her. Every one of them seemed to be in their own world and she was certain none of them would believe her story anyway.
David touched her on the shoulder.
"I know what you're thinking. Don't."
The crowd moved slowly toward the front of the plane, pushing her along. David kept a strong hand on her upper arm. The stewardess smiled and thanked them for flying Singapore air, Patricia just nodded. The woman had no idea the hell Patricia was facing. It was just another day for her.
In the airport, Patricia saw two policemen walking toward them. Just as they passed, she lunged and grabbed one of them by the arm. She pointed at David and started crying, saying she had been kidnapped and they needed to arrest him. Them men looked at David. He said a few words in Thai and passed them a handful of bills. The policemen shook her loose and continued on their way.
David turned and started walking away. Patricia looked around at the hundreds and hundreds of strangers, the signs in Thai and David walking away into the crowd. Trying to hold back the tears, she ran to catch up with him.
"That's better," he said without turning around.
Outside the airport, David flagged down a cab. Patricia asked him about their luggage and he told her that there was none. She reminded him that he'd checked in three bags. He didn't answer.
The taxi drove them out into the streets of Bangkok. As they drove around, Patricia recognized some of the buildings. They were in the same area they'd vacationed in a few years back, when he'd subjected her to the training at Su Da Lin's. The color drained from her face. They drove down familiar streets and she knew without doubt where he was taking her.
"No, oh God, please, no," she began sobbing. David ignored her, chatting with the cab driver in Thai. "David, no, you can't do this." She tugged at his shirt and he turned to her, gave her a stern look and she slid back into the opposite corner of the back seat. She pulled her knees up close to her chest and trembled.
When the cab stopped, she sprung the door open and jumped out of the car, tried to run. It was no use though, there were several men standing just outside the door to Su Da Lin's. Two of them grabbed her and dragged her inside. As soon as they closed the door behind them, they pulled her dress over her head and threw her to the floor. She lay in her bra, panties and sandals, hair falling over her face, eyes to the floor.
"Ah. So you remember some of the rules," said a familiar voice. Su Da Lin. The Devil. Patricia was in Hell. And this time, David intended to leave her there.
A door opened behind her, then another. Patricia heard several people walk into the room. She looked around, eyes still downcast, and saw over a dozen sets of legs. Men and women, clothed and naked, dark skinned and light.
"Show her her new home," Su Da Lin said. Patricia heard her heels click as she left the room.
Two women lifted her under the arms and walked her through a door and down a flight of stairs. She turned to look at then. She recognized one of the faces from last time. It was one of Su Da Lin's seconds-in-command, an incredibly harsh woman named Nok with spiky hair and heavily painted eyes. Patricia trembled slightly, remember how much abuse she'd suffered at this woman's hands. The woman saw the recognition in Patricia's eyes and smiled.
"You remember. Good." Patricia shook and squeezed her eyes shut. She also remembered that the nickname Nok meant "bird". She tried not to recall the scratching from her talon-like fingers, the shrieked instructions, the relentlessness of her attacks. The nickname was idea. Bird of prey. Bird of terror.
The women stopped walking and Patricia looked around. She was standing in front of a metal door. One of the women produced a key and they opened the lock, pushed the door open, and led Patricia inside. The room was empty except for a single pole about three feet high that was topped with a leather cushion. On the floor in front of the pole were two steel rings embedded into the floor. A rope hung from the ceiling and ended a few feet above the rings. There was also a metal pole hanging from the ceiling with a similar leather cushion at the bottom. It was offset a foot or so from the pole sticking from the floor.
"You have no idea, do you?" Nok asked Patricia.
"No, Mistress," Patricia answered.
"Oh, you can cut the Mistress crap. This is nothing like last time. Nothing."
"Strip," the other woman ordered. Patricia undid the bra and dropped it, then slid her panties off. She reached down and untied the straps of the sandals that were wound several times around her ankles and calves.
The women walked her to the pole and pushed her closer until the fronts of her thighs were against the cushion. Nok bent Patricia over it, pushing her head down and walking around her. The woman she didn't know produced a pair of alligator nipple clamps and attached one to Patricia's left nipple. She ran the chain through one of the rings on the floor, the up through the other one. She left the other clamp lying on the floor.
In the meantime, Nok was stepping Patricia's feet into very high - six inch - heeled shoes.
"Now, it will get interesting for you," the other woman said. Patricia felt the cool leather from the ceiling pole just below the small of her back. Then, she heard small clicking noises. They were forcing the ceiling cushion lower and the floor cushion higher. She had to adjust her legs, widening her knees and going into a squat. A few more clicks and she knew exactly what they were doing. She'd been to enough gyms to know how exhausting and painful a squat like this would be after five or six minutes.
After just a few more clicks, they stopped. Her thigh muscles were already trembling, her knees and calves quivering slightly as the small muscles worked to keep her balanced on the heels. Then, she saw one of them squat in front of her, reaching for the other nipple clamp. She pulled the chain tight through the rings on the floor then attached the clamp to Patricia's right nipple. She whimpered, first from the pain, then from the realization of what they'd done. Guaranteed her position by keeping her torso stretched and bent. She couldn't move backward to relieve the tension in her legs without pulling on the clamps.
It seemed impossible that things could get worse, but she was wrong.
The women moved behind her and took her long hair upward, braiding it and tying off the end with twine. Then, the knotted hair was attached to the rope hanging from the ceiling. Somewhere in the room, something started clicking again and Patricia felt tugging against the roots of her hair. The rope was pulling her upward, stretching both her spine and nipples.
"Oh, please, can you turn it back just a few clicks?" she whimpered. Neither of the women answered, they just stood to either side of her, immobile. "Just one click, please." She sobbed as her trembling thighs burned with the effort of supporting herself. She shifted her body every few minutes, releasing fresh waves of pain into different parts of her body. If she stayed like this much longer, she was sure she'd pass out.
The burning in her calves became unbearable and she pushed her weight into her heels which stretched her hamstrings past the point of pain. She screamed slightly, but it did no good. She tried to focus on her breathing to calm herself, maybe slide into subspace, but the stretching of her back kept fighting for attention. She moved slightly to relieve that pressure but felt the teeth of the clamps bite hard into her nipples. When she moved forward again to stop that pain, her thighs shrieked. She was on fire head to toe and there was absolutely no sign from either of the women that it would be over soon. Or ever.
The room was hot, stifling. Her mouth was dry and she felt sweat pooling along the leather cushions and the back of her neck. She opened her mouth and licked her lips. Then, she closed her eyes again.
She felt like she was slipping it a daze when she felt a finger slide between her cunt lips and quickly up inside her. Her eyes shot open and she heard the two women laugh. The finger was removed and the women walked out of the room, still chuckling quietly.
Patricia trembled with fear. Had they put something up inside of her? Was something going to happen? A chemical reaction? Something organic? She'd seen such horrible and extreme things the last time she was here that she knew anything was possible. But, she felt nothing inside her, nothing new or different. Just the terrible burning up and down her legs. Her nipples didn't even matter now, everything was focused on that squat position and the non-stop searing pain it caused.
The room went black and loud music poured out of speakers somewhere. It throbbed in her ears, she tried turning her head but the rope didn't give her much leeway and any move she made was met by a stab of pain at the small of her back. After a while, the music stopped. Then, the room was flooded with bright white light. She squeezed her eyes tight but it didn't help, the insides of her eyelids shone bright red. They alternated back and forth between these for what seemed like hours, then the room went black and quiet. She wasn't sure how long she was along in the black room but she was sure she'd fallen asleep several times. Or blacked out.
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