Thai Boy

Writer's Note: This story contains dominance, submission, spanking, and humiliation. Just a heads up in case that is not your cup of tea.

***

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 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 here. 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 to use and even abuse as I wanted. "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 exceptionally attractive men have. I was looking forward to breaking him of that altogether.

"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 perfect muscular buns of yours until they burn, you need to let me do that, too. Because that beautiful ass of yours is made for spanking, wouldn't you say, Prasang?"

I made him repeat it. "Yes, s- master, yes my beautiful ass was made for spanking...I...I agree, master (gulp)." I didn't know how much actual experience Prasang had in his "profession," but whatever he had done with men in the past, I was pretty sure it wasn't anything quite like this. There was certainly an innocence about him and this would be a new and major challenge for him to take on.

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 (and could do so without having to give me details), 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. This meant no other clients and certainly not hooking up with any girls. I told him if he did so, I would be most displeased.

I wanted things to begin immediately, right there in the restaurant. 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, pinning him with my gaze. "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 for my enjoyment? 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 to me for almost a month.

"Yes, yes of course, Master," he said at last, trying to sound enthusiastic after some hesitation. "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 already rock hard in my shorts. It was time to take control of this male sex god.

I looked down to see his impressive cock growing in his tight jeans as well and snaking down his leg. This was a good sign. 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 if he could not admit it. 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. I forced his lips apart and pushed in my tongue. 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.

Seeing this amount of money made him very happy and he delved into his role with gusto. He 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 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 held 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 to, 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 pair of cheap flip flops with no socks so he could strip down more quickly), pants, and shirt. Fully naked, he folded his clothes 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.

Afterwards, we would nestle down 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 of us, a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a box of chocolates. The kind things a good boyfriend would do for his girl. He interviewed me about things I would like and he paid attention. He was 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 girth, 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 while sliding 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, (ahhh) 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 I just want to cum and cum (ERF, ouch) until I can't cum anymore. Please, sir, please enjoy my naked, straight boy body and do whatever you please with it (OOF)...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," I heaved, "Make me really believe you mean 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 Master Jim (OOMF) I think about 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. They were so rich and the taste of a creamy eclair combined with a mouthful of his hot baby batter was heaven.

Young, fit, and athletic as Prasang was, I would sometimes make him cum two or three times in one morning, fully draining those impressive balls. 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 with him in the shower, still fully clothed, with Prasang pressing his hands against the tiled wall. His body looked and felt all the 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). I had bought a large wooden scrub brush specifically to scrub him good and clean, getting his chest and other areas hard for me to reach from the front. I wanted his body completely pristine.

I would trace the tips of my fingernails over the veins in his thick arms, over the slopes of his molded chest and stomach, gently rising and falling. I moved over the flame patterns that ran over his shoulders and to the figure of the Buddha on his broad, manly back. I liked to trail a stray finger down to the single tattooed flame that ran itself into the top of his crack, between the swell of his buns, the one I found so erotic.

His mocha-brown buns were just as irresistible as his cock and I would get down on my knees, 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 smelled wonderfully moist and musky.

Then I would apply the oils.

Having worked as a masseur, 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 on his back. Watched the clenching muscles working as he struggled to keep them tight.

"Tell me again, Prasang," I said simply over the roar of the water. He knew what this meant. I made him recite his daily "love note" to me almost to exhaustion. By this point he usually had it memorized. Muscles clenched, buns swaying slowly, he began.

"Dear Master Jim...I think about you always...You are in my thoughts when I wake up and in my dreams when I go to sleep...Whenever I think of your beautiful green eyes, your strong hands, it makes my...my shaved, hairless Thai cock so hard and I just want to cum and cum until I can't cum anymore..."

I made him say it over and over again until I was finished with my shower, which could get rather lengthy. 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.

"Say that last part again, please, Prasang."

Prasang would inhale deeply, still swaying, "You make my Thai cock hard...I just want to cum and cum until I can't cum anymore (SMACK) OOF!"

He staggered forward as my hand came down on his unsuspecting cheeks.

"Resume your position, Prasang, say it again...with feeling."

"You...you make me want to cum and cum until I can't cum anymore (SMACK) UMPH!"

Needless to say, doing this got me so hard I couldn't keep my hands off my own cock. There are times when I couldn't help myself and jerked off right into the crevice of his perfect, sore ass.

"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. His burns were clearly starting to burn now. He squeezed his arms together hard, reestablishing his strong muscle pose.

"Yes, sir..." he said, trembling, "You are far more sexy than any girl could ever be, no one can make my cock hard like you. I would rather be with you than all the most beautiful girls in the world, master (SMACK) 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. I was harder than I could ever remember being. 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.

"Oh, what was it you were saying, Prasang?"

"I want you, master (SMACK, "OOF") you are so beautiful and sexy (SMACK, "UMPH") you make my Thai cock hard, you make me want to come again and again (SMACK "ACK!"). I want you more than I could ever want a girl, sir (SMACK "OMF", SMACK "AH AH" SMACK "OUCH") I spanked him again and again with the scrub brush making those buns of his wiggle and dance until they were bright red.

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 the balcony with a gorgeous view of the city. People could be seen on their own balconies at other hotels not far away. I slid the glass door open and went and sat at one of the comfortable sun 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 stepping across the threshold onto the balcony, he stopped as if blocked by an invisible wall. I heard him breathing and his handsome face looked conflicted. It seemed he was all at once overwhelmed by the fact of his nudity and how exposed he would be out there.

He would need to get used to it though and there was no time like the present. I was going to spank him naked and in full view of the entire world.

"Is something wrong, Prasang?" I said sounding irritated.

Prasang shook his head, frozen, "N-no, master."

"Then get your muscular buns out here and lay across my knees, before I make you regret it."

Prasang closed his eyes, drew in a very deep breath, and stepped across the threshold. He positioned himself across my lap, draping his naked, bronze body over me, oiled up and gleaming in the blazing sun. I made sure he was positioned so that the magnificent full moon of his ass was facing toward the window in full view. 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. I could feel him trembling against me. "Yes, Master."