My name is Mali and I'm a model from Thailand, specifically signed on to Mason & Presley, one of the top model agencies in Krung Thep, also popularly known as Bangkok. I am currently in the United States participating in model photoshoots on its rural country-side with a couple American girls. It is a last-minute rare opportunity for a job, where Chaiya, my agent and my boyfriend, pulled strings for that to happen. Sure, I need to leave the comfort of Bangkok for a foreign land, but imagine the future opportunities from this exposure. Plus, it doesn't hurt that it's more of an all-expenses paid two week vacation in the cool autumn weather.
I will admit I'm lucky enough to get overseas education which allowed me an excellent command of the English language, and after graduation I grabbed the opportunity of modeling gigs in Mason & Presley, one after another, so much so I became a regular where I met Chaiya and switched for him to be my agent so that we can work "closer" together. I don't regret this; he provides everything for me, including the current hotel suite both of us are now staying at. Sure, online comments from Thailand's social media users often contain abuse about us hi-so feeding off the fruits of their hard labour, but we are in fact too busy to care about remarks from these petty lo-so. In case you aren't a widely traveled, enlightened mind, hi-so refers to us high society folks while lo-so refers to people of low social status.
Although I am so used to the dedicated care and concern to my well-being and physical appearance by the agency staff each time after one long series of photoshoots, the warmth and hospitality from our American hosts did catch my attention, reminding me a little of home despite their vastly different culture. This is my last night here before Chaiya and I need to rush off in the wee hours of the morning for the 7 A.M flight back to Thailand. For the other modeling gigs during my two weeks in America, my boyfriend would be there for me, driving me in a rented car back to our hotel, where we would then fuck each other's brains out when the rare moment affords it. However, since today Chaiya is completely occupied with closing other deals elsewhere, I am alone by myself after the photoshoot and decide to hail an Uber ride home - Never mind that 2 plus hours journey would cost hundreds in US$, my beloved Chaiya is going to pay that bill anyway.
I'm still wearing my so-called model attire for the farmlands: A tight denim top with straps, which accentuate my small breasts and slender figure, leaving the imagination to one's head. Wearing a pair of brown khaki shorts and a pair of brown sheepskin boots allow me to show off my slender legs, especially those long thighs. I always take care never to go out without sunscreen, ensuring my skin stays light-skinned so that my shoulder length jet-black hair frames and contrasts with my glowing face - I often get mistaken as a Chinese, even by my fellow Thais.
As the skies darken, I take out my phone from my bag as I make my way back to the edge of the road, intending to book an Uber... The phone's battery power indicates that dreaded 1% warning before shutting down itself. I curse. I don't have a power bank with me either. This never happens when I'm around Chaiya. The other modeling agency staff left in their own cars as well, leaving me alone without a single soul in sight for miles. Earlier on I could have asked them for a ride, but I don't like squeezing in with them. It is kind of like back in Bangkok, if there's no ridiculous rush hour traffic I would rather ride with my boyfriend in his car as opposed to taking the public transport BTS and MRT, even with their clean reputation.
That leaves one alternative I have never considered until now. I have heard cautionary tales about hitchhiking in America, the risk that one could meet some unsavory soul behind the wheel who has no qualms harming me. But the vast majority of Americans are decent people, so surely the bad luck from the dead battery on my phone can't snowball further, right?
Several cars and trucks pass me by even as I put up my thumb, but eventually a large black pickup truck slows down in front of me. The driver winds down the window, revealing the face of a rough-looking man with tousled brown hair and sporting a tobacco-stained smile. I ask him whether he can drop me in a city that's conveniently in his direction and he politely asks where I am going. I told him the hotel I am staying in and he offers to send me there directly, claiming that it is in his direction. I say my thanks with a smile and gladly hop on. Life is easy when you have a pretty face, don't you agree? Just look glowingly attractive from head to toe, smile sweetly when making your requests, and most guys would acquiesce, happily or not. I can detect no red flags from this trucker either, at least from first impression.
We introduce ourselves and chat while the ride goes on. His name is Chad and he works at an oil refinery, and now he's just on his way home. The driver and passenger's seats though spacious, smells of cigarettes, and his figure is clad in an old stained wife beater top and an equally stained pair of shorts, showing just a little bit of a beer gut but he's completely wiry all over otherwise. He looks at least 10 years older than me, perhaps due to his rugged features. Definitely someone I'm neither attracted to nor want to get close to in any other social occasion. For all the touring I did in Southeast Asia and Europe, guys from all walks of life has flirted with me - Both during and outside of work. Looks like Chad is no different either, complimenting my features and correctly guessing that I'm a model.
Well, I did nearly jump a little when his right hand brushes against my thigh, but I am assuming this is accidental given he's also busy sorting through a small pile of papers between us. No need to make a ruckus for nothing. Alas, 10 minutes into the chat and our conversation gradually takes a turn for the uncomfortable, when he stirs into the sexual part of relationships. Knowing that I'm from Bangkok, he recalls a memorable trip to Bangkok some 5 years back where he tried different kinds of prostitution services in different parts of the city. I know of the infamous reputation Bangkok has for its red light districts, but I've little exposure to it. I do have a couple of female acquaintances who mention in passing about making some side-cash doing freelance prostitution work, but that's pretty much all I know. Yes, before I met Chaiya, I did sleep with a farang - Our term for a western foreigner, but I did NOT do it for money. I do it for fun. There's a difference. The fact that Chad is actually comparing me with the lo-so women from the Isaan region is making me seethe deep inside.
The last straw that breaks the camel's back is when he asks me how much I cost, with a look of overt lust in his eyes, his right hand very intentionally caressing my bare shoulder - This is definitely not an accident this time!
"Thank you for the ride, Chad, I think you can drop me here," I reply quickly, my shoulder shrinking back from his touch. He is getting way too creepy to stay around. The truck still drives on.
"Don't be ridiculous. I promise to send you to your hotel, I will see that to the end, trust me, I won't hurt you!" He chuckles.
"Chad, can you please stop here," I repeat my request. He stops the truck on one side of the road and turns to me - The truck door still wouldn't open though, he deliberately locks us from the inside.
"Look, Mali, we are in the middle of nowhere in complete wilderness, your phone is not working, and reception here sucks. I can drop you here but I don't know what's out there and whether you can safely get back to your hotel in time. I suggest you just play along as we ride and we all leave happy," Chad grins, albeit a smile that is no longer the friendly one I saw earlier on.
His hands are now pawing me, one of them sliding down to my breasts. I back away towards the truck door, slapping his hands away in anger.
"I am NOT that kind of girl!" I grit my teeth as I raise my fists at him, my legs quaking as anxiety takes over me. Deep within I know I'm trapped.
His eyes narrow and with a bestial growl he quickly grabs one of my wrists and twists it, causing me to cry out in pain.
"What kind of girl are you then?! Dressed up so pretty, getting into a stranger's truck asking for a ride. If it had not been for me you would have no chance of getting back to your hotel in time. Nothing is free in America, not even for a pretty little thing like you. So if you know what's best, you better obey everything I tell you to do," he snaps, finishing his line by grabbing my cheek.
I close my eyes as I try to maintain my composure. Just how did I get into this mess? All this wouldn't have happened if I learned to do things for myself instead of having everything done properly for me.
"So you still want a ride, Mali?" He whispers into my ear, and I can smell his cigarette breath.
My eyes still closed, I squirm and nod my head.
"Good girl."
Chad starts up the truck again. The ride continues, but my torment obviously did not end.
"Strip."
I look back at him imploringly, not making a move. I shiver at Chad's cold and commanding voice when he grabs the strap of my denim top with one hand while still keeping his eyes on the road.
"I will not repeat this again. Take off your top now or I will tear it off you!"
Without a single word, with trembling hands I quickly unbutton my top, which drops onto the back of my seat, revealing my strapless beige bra.
"Next, your boots."
I kick off my boots, and on his next command I unbutton my shorts and pull it off. He glances back and whistles at my matching beige pair of panties. I cover myself in his presence. Does he intend to go further? It turns out the answer is yes. His next command is for me to strip naked before him. This is too much. Such disrespect would never have happened to me back in Thailand - Chaiya would have gotten his underground gang to find and send this creep to intensive care in the hospital.
"What's the matter, Mali? I thought you are already used to doing this on your job!"
I choke through my tears as I retort "No, not like that."
He's wrong; I am not a nude model. I'm doing fashion and designer clothing. Regardless, I eventually comply given that I can't think of anything else to offer him. Completely naked before him, I tremble, feeling so small and vulnerable in his presence. All this time, his driving has slowed down to a crawl as he admires me head to toe, the same with his breathing. I guess I always have that effect on guys. My eyes avert his gaze and also bring my attention to the unmistakable bulge poking out from his shorts.
He asks for my clothes, so I obediently pass these expensive clothing to him without question, including my undergarments.
"You won't be needing any clothes until we reach the hotel," he flings them into a basket on the back seat behind us.
Before returning his attention back on the road, he takes out a small pink vibrator from his glove compartment, switches it on and puts it into a high setting before passing it to me.
"Here's something to keep you calm. I got this as a gift from a previous girl who uses it while she's riding in my truck."
"What?"
"Don't play dumb; shove this up your cunt."
The thought of using another woman's sex toy disgusts me, but that is exactly what Chad demands of me to do right now. I meekly obey, spreading my legs as I insert the loud buzzing toy deep into my pussy. I close my eyes when the pleasurable sensations begin to hit me, and I fight the urge to moan.
"Yes... Mali, don't hold back, tell me what you feel, enjoy this like what you enjoy doing with other guys' cocks." Chad coos softly as his hand briefly shoots out and feels up my left breast, rubbing my nipple.
"Look, your nipple is already starting to stiffen!" The obscenity of his words and this moment somehow only heightens my sensations further. I am afraid if this keeps up, I won't be able to hold back my moan of lust.
Apparently Chad wants to liven up the atmosphere, so he begins asking me more questions.
