Date: Fri, 31 Jul 2020 13:43:48 +0000 (UTC) From: Timothy Cassen Subject: Thai Boy 3 (Revised) Prasang called me up the next day. He tried to sound as collected as possible, though I could hear his nerves. He asked if he could please be my boyfriend for the next three weeks. My heart began beating faster and my body erupted in goosebumps. "Really Prasang?" I asked, pushing him, "You really want to be my boyfriend?" I could hear him swallow hard on the other end. "Yes, yes, very much...I...I can't stop thinking about you, sir. You make my cock hard, sir...may I please be your boyfriend?" I turned rock hard. This gorgeous guy was agreeing to be my plaything for the next three weeks. The delicious possibilities began to race through my head. Prasang's attitude was definitely in the right place. He had become my naked sex toy at the hotel the night before. I could only imagine what else he might be willing to do for me. All I knew was I had tasted nectar and was thirsty for more. We met the next day at a quiet restaurant a block or so from the Grand Palace. I told him I would put him on a weekly salary. The gorgeous young man let out a chuckle of disbelief when I revealed how much I was willing to pay him. But when he realized I was serious, his dazzling black eyes lit up. In Thailand, it is not uncommon to "buy" a boy or a girl and put them on salary for an extended period of time. I had met Prasang at Male Body Palace, but he was not their "employee." Clubs like this provide a platform (literally) for Thai sex workers to promote themselves, but they are not under any kind of contract. It is a way to get patrons into the club to buy drinks and, if a boy gets bought, they take a cut. I had acquaintances back home who had come to Thailand and put boys on salary for weeks or even months. With Prasang the period would be relatively short, but I was looking for a special kind of experience while I was. One I believed he would be able to provide me. He was willing to give, to be submissive, and I made it clear he would have to earn every penny. I told him I wanted a full "boyfriend" experience. I wanted him to buy me flowers, to take me to dinner (with money I would give him, of course), even write me sweet, romantic notes about how much he loved spending time with me. But there would be more to it than that. He would not just be a romantic companion, but my 24/7 sex toy. "You understand, I want full access to your body at all times to use as I please. If I ask you to get naked, no matter where we are, you need to get naked, understand?" Prasang swallowed, looking a bit pale, "Yes, yes I understand." "Yes, what?" I asked sternly. "Yes, sir." "Hmm," I thought for a minute. "Let's go with something a bit stronger than that. `Master' is a good word, I think." "Yes...master." "Again, Prasang." "(Gulp) Yes...yes, master." He was trying to hang onto that cool attitude that a lot of very attractive men have, but I insisted on taking him down a few pegs. "If I want to explore you and suck your cock, you need to let me, even if it's right here in the bathroom of this restaurant. Understand?" "Yes, master," He replied obediently, trying to put on that winning, confident smile, though he obviously wasn't feeling too confident. "If I want to take you over my knee, pull down your pants, and spank those beautiful muscular buns of yours until they are red, you need to let me do that, too. Because that ass of yours is made for spanking, wouldn't you say, Prasang?" I made him repeat it. "Yes, s- master, yes my ass was made for spanking...I...I agree, master (gulp)." Whatever he had done with men in the past, I was pretty sure he had never done anything quite like this before. There was certainly an innocence about him and this would be a new and major challenge. I put forth a few other stipulations. He could have a day each week to take care of any personal things he needed to do, but otherwise I wanted him with me at all times. I also wanted him focused on me at all times when he was with me, just the way a good boyfriend should be. I told him right there in the restaurant that things should begin immediately. I would be giving him a downpayment when we got to my hotel that day. From then on, I would pay him on a weekly basis until the end of the three week period. "So, are you serious about it, Prasang?" I asked sternly. "Are you willing to be my boyfriend, my lover, my complete and total sex toy for the next three weeks? Even to be punished by me? If not you have to let me know and I'll look elsewhere." I saw a shiver go through his body. He glanced from side to side to see if anyone around was listening in. He understood he was about to sign his life away for three weeks. He was weighing it out. "Yes, yes of course, Master," he said at last with some desperation. "Yes, I really do want to be your boyfriend...your sex toy." "Then be proud of it, Prasang, say it nice and loud." His blush deepened. "I want to be your boyfriend...and your sex toy." "Louder, Prasang, if you really want it, let people hear it!" "I want to be your boyfriend, sir, I want to be your sex toy, master!" The few patrons in the restaurant went momentarily silent, wondering what this was all about. Thai guests seemed not to quite understand. A group of English-speaking tourists looked startled, rolled their eyes, and went back to their conversation. Prasang looked like he wanted to hide under the table. I knew it was embarrassing for him, but I was pleased and very turned on. It was time to take control of this male sex god. I looked down to see his impressive cock growing in his tight jeans and snaking down his leg. I would want him hard whenever possible, and he had cum with such ease the previous night. He may have been "seventy percent straight," but I was beginning to suspect he was secretly turned on by all this, by submitting to me and being commanded by me. Even that amount of money would surely not have been worth it to him otherwise. I scooted over and sat next to him, reached down and cupped his swelling cock. He made another audible GULP as he swallowed, chuckling nervously. His cock flexed in my hand. I leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth, savoring those delicious lips for all they were worth. His cock grew bigger, struggling in my grip. I could feel the heat from his face as he blushed. We were putting on a bit of show for anyone who cared to watch. ... I gave Prasang a generous down payment, even a bit more than I had promised. He followed through on our bargain and gave me access to him and his body 24/7. He stayed with me at the hotel every night of that first week. During the day, we did some sightseeing around the city. Prasang truly was the helpful type and took his new position as my boyfriend and companion seriously. He took it upon himself to tell me everything he knew about the palaces, temples, and museums we visited. He took the initiative in holding my hand wherever we went, even putting a strong muscular arm around me. He insisted on carrying anything I bought, even holding my bottle of water. At stores he bought me thoughtful little gifts like postcards, stuffed animals, or even flowers. We sat with arms around each other at restaurants. I asked that he order for both of us and made sure he referred to me as his "boyfriend" when he did so. We made out, often in public places, something I was not used, especially not with someone as attractive as Prasang. There was something deliciously thrilling about it all though and I loved showing him off. I loved to squeeze his ass or even his bulge as he embraced me. As far as I was concerned, the more people who saw, the better. When we got back to my room, I would remove my shoes at the door and Prasang was required to remove everything: sandals (I insisted he wear only a pear of cheap flip flops with no socks so he could strip down more quickly), pants, and shirt. Fully naked, he folded them neatly, and placed them in the drawer. He was strictly forbidden from wearing any underwear when he was with me. I still liked to keep his silky white speedo from Male Body Palace in my pocket. Sometimes I would draw it out while we were in public and use it as a kind of handkerchief, much to his embarrassment. Once completely naked, he was required to rub and stroke his magnificent cock until it stood proudly in front of him like sculpted wood. One of the first things I did was get cream and a razor and shave off the already minimal pubic hair he had on his groin and armpits. He was almost completely hairless after that, save for the thick, luxuriant black hair of his head. We slept together under silky sheets: Me in my shorts and undershirt, Prasang fully naked. I loved to have him give me a massage just before bed. Straddling me, nude and hard, his strong hands were truly miraculous in releasing the tension in my joints and muscles. Then we would lay together. His skin was every bit as smooth and silky as the bedding. I would fall asleep with my hand around his hard, pulsating cock. Each morning of our first week together, Prasang woke up early while I was still sleeping, went out for an hour or so, and came back with breakfast for the two us, a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a box of chocolates. The kind things a good boyfriend would do for his girl and which I told him I would appreciate. He was always sure to bring my favorite foods, favorite kinds of flowers and sweets. I requested that these always be accompanied by a note to show his affection for me. The first few were short and sweet, but unsatisfactory. So I coached him a bit, helping him to write out the kind of details I was looking for. I liked to make him stand naked and spread-eagled, holding the flowers in one hand and chocolates in the other. while I feasted on his erect tool. I would take him all the way down my throat, choking myself on his hot tool, until I could feel his tight stomach expanding against my forehead, my lips nearly touching the bristle of his sinewy pelvis. I would knead and squeeze his balls in one hand. With the other, I would slide an oiled up finger deep into his tight, spasming cherry. Once I had him in the throngs of pleasure (and a bit of pain) I would make him read his love notes to me aloud: "Dear Master Jim, (ah) I think about you always (oh)...You are in my thoughts when I wake up and in my dreams when I go to sleep (UMF, ouch) Whenever I think of your beautiful green eyes, your strong hands (oof) it makes my...my shaved, hairless Thai cock so hard and yearn for you. Please, sir, please enjoy my naked, straight boy body and do whatever you please with it (OUCH)...My cock, my mouth, my hole...(gulp) they belong to you, sir. Please, sir, please let me be your naked slave boy..." "Again, Prasang," I would say, pulling out and pumping his cock with my fist. "Read it to me again, make me really believe it." I put pressure on his tight balls, massaging a bit too hard until he made a sound of discomfort. I now had the base of two finers in his hole. "Dear hot, sexy Master Jim (OOMF) I think of you always (OOF)..." I would make him read his letters three or four times, embellishing them with more lurid details, over and over again until he came in my mouth. I liked to have him open the box of chocolates he held and feed them to me in between sucking him off. They were so rich and the taste of a creamy eclair combined with a mouthful of his hot baby batter was fabulous. Young, fit, and athletic as Prasang was, I would sometimes suck him off two or three times in one morning. He had the stamina for it and he came with such ease that it did not even require that much effort on my part. The truth is, we seldom even got to the breakfast he brought in; I was too hungry for him. After our "sessions," I loved to bathe my muscular Thai boy myself, just as I had at the hotel that first night. With the hot water flowing, I would stand just outside the walk-in shower with Prasang facing away from me. His body looked and felt a hundred times more electrifying when glistening and wet. I would lather up every inch of his toned, gold-brown build with soap and suds (including the more intimate regions, of course). He leaned against the tiled wall as I traced the tips of my fingernails over the veins in his arms, over the flame patterns that ran over his shoulders and to the figure of the Buddha on his broad back. I would trail a stray finger down to the single tattooed flame that ran itself into the top of his crack, the one I found so erotic. I had bought a large wooden scrub brush specifically to bathe him with, getting his chest and stomach and other hard to reach areas. His mocha-brown buns were just as irresistible as his cock and I couldn't help parting them and savoring him with my tongue. I loved the taste of his hole, especially with steaming hot water flowing over it. Once he was good and clean, I would shut off the shower and dry him thoroughly with a big fluffy towel, working my way down his legs to his feet. He had a wonderful musky, moist smell to him. Then I would apply the oils. Having worked as a masseur in the past, Prasang could recommend many of the best massage oils with scents of grapefruit, guava, lemon, and saffron. I armed myself with a whole collection and took my time rubbing them into every inch of his skin, taking special care with the parts of him I enjoyed the most, until he was perfumed with an incredible concoction of aromas. Once showered, and gleaming with aromatic oils, I would then take my own shower. As I did so, I commanded Prasang to stand inches away from me, facing the opposite direction with his eyes closed. I made him strike my favorite pose of his: Biceps flexed taut, legs spread, tight bubble buns swaying slowly, hypnotically back and forth. I had him stand in this position so often, he was starting to do it naturally without even thinking about it. I watched the tranquil gaze of the Buddha tattooed on his back. Watched the clenching muscles working as he struggled to keep them tight. "Tell me, Prasang," I said casually over the roar of the water. He knew what this meant. Muscles clenched, buns swaying slowly, he began. "I want you, master, you are so very sexy. You make my Thai cock hard and I can't stop thinking about you. Please, let me be your boyfriend, sir, please use and abuse my naked body however you wish." I made him say these words over and over again until I was finished with my shower. Each time he finished a line, I would give his moving buns a good pinch or even a slap (I am quite strong myself), enjoying the "OOF" that escaped his lips. "You want me more than your girlfriend, Prasang?" I asked him, "More than all those sexy Thai girls we saw on the street today?" Though he was faced away from me, I knew he was blushing. He stopped his swaying for a moment to think. "Yes, sir..." he said at last, "You are far more sexy than any girl I've ever known, no one can make my cock hard like you. I would rather be with you than any girl, sir UMPH!" I had taken the big, wooden scrub brush down from the wall and smacked his buns hard with the back of it. It made a dull, resounding thud against his vulnerable flesh. "Did I say stop moving, Prasang?" He sucked in his breath. "No, master, sorry master." I had, of course, bought the scrub brush in part because it could also serve as a paddle. My cock was completely hard and I was having trouble keeping my hands off of it. Everytime I spanked his perfect, bare, wiggling ass it sent an immediate jolt to my cock. His flexing muscles were quivering now. He began swaying his ass again, a little bit too quickly, trying to brace himself for the impact of the brush. "I want you, master (SMACK, "OOF") you are so very sexy (SMACK, "UMPH") you make my Thai cock so hard (SMACK "ACK!"). I want you more than I could ever want a girl, sir (SMACK "OMF") I spanked him again and again with the scrub brush making those buns of his wiggle and dance until they were nice and rosy. Sometimes that was enough for me, but sometimes it wasn't. I shut the water off, had Prasang dry me with the towel, then dress me himself like he was my man servant. Once I was fully clothed, I went to the window and drew back the curtain to reveal a gorgeous view of the city. People could be seen on balconies at other hotels not far away. I myself had a very nice enclosed balcony, though it got painfully hot in the Thai heat. I slid open the plate glass door and went and sat at one of the chairs. "Bring me the brush, Prasang," I demanded. He did as he was told, eyes downcast, cock bobbing out before him, looking ashamed. But before stopping across the threshold onto the balcony, he stopped as if blocked by an invisible force. It seemed he was all at once overwhelmed by the fact of his nudity and how exposed he would be out there. I was going to spank him. Spank him in full view of the entire world. "Is something wrong, Prasang?" I said irritated. Prasang shook his head, frozen, "N-no, master." "Than get your muscular buns out here and lay across my knees." Prasang leaned down, draping his naked, bronze body over me, oiled up and gleaming in the blazing sun. I make sure he was positioned so that his bent ass was in full view of the window. I held the thick wooden brush against his trembling flesh. "You deserve to be spanked, don't you, Prasang?" He hesitated a moment, swallowing hard. "Yes, Master." "Tell me." "I deserve to be spanked, master." "Your naked body was designed to be used and your bare buns were made to be spanked, weren't they?" "Yes, yes..." I made him repeat it, he had a little trouble with pronunciation of some of the words, so I helped him out. "Now, I'm going to spank you and I want you to say it after each one. Ready?" SMACK "OOMF! I deserve to spanked...my body was design...was." The wooden brush came down hard on his buns. "RRMF," he cried. He arched his back beneath me and pushed himself up on tiptoes. "We'll keep going until you say it right." Prasang drew in a desperate breath: "I deserve to be spanked...my body was designed to be used...my buns were designed to be spanked (SMACK) UMPH!" "Again!" "I deserve to be spanked (SMACK) OOF! My body was designed to be used (SMACK) OOMF! My...my buns were designed to be spanked (SMACK) HURRF!" "Again, Prasang." I looked over, pleased to see that we had indeed caught the attention of some people on the other balconies, both men and women, mainly foreigners. "We are putting on quite a show, Prasang," I said with wicked delight. I felt him shutter with shame. Whatever ego or dignity he had, I was breaking it down pretty quickly. Perhaps all the more embarrassing was that he had a boner the size of Texas all the while. However painful or humiliating it all was, it was stimulating his body big time. I went on spanking him, my erect cock inches from his. I made him repeat the words until his perfectly rounded buns were bright red and I was satisfied they would be sore enough when we went out together that evening.