Part 3

I’d gone easy on Ben the next day, keeping it simple, with only three rules for him to remember. Rule one – that he would obey me, without question, rule two – that he would keep quiet and not speak to me without being spoken to and rule 3) that he was not to cum until I expressly gave him permission to do so. It would be hard for him, in both senses of the word, but I had faith in him.


On Wednesday morning, our group woke early to catch tuk tuks to the sunrise over Angkor Wat – the oldest and largest temple complex in the world, originally built for the Hindu god Vishnu. That morning, we all filed into the reception area at 4:30am.


Ben was already there as we filed in. He looked up at me and smiled. I didn’t return the gesture. Penelope, Kim, the Aussie and I all sat down on the bench opposite Ben. Bruno chose not to sit next to us, standing in the corner, staring vacantly into the space he seemed to permanently reside in.


“You must have gotten up early, Ben,” Penelope smiled, the woes of her massage violation and distrust of men obviously behind her now, “How long have you been here?”


“Half an hour. I thought they said to be here at four.”


“Oh no! Four thirty!” Penelope chirped, “You came so early!”


“I imagine Ben often comes early, don’t you Ben?”


The Aussie cackled. Ben flushed, looked up at me, open mouthed,  then to the Aussie, then back to me. I gave him a sharp glance and he lowered his eyes, saying nothing.


The tuk tuk drivers arrived and we all filed in. Boring Bruno got in with Penelope and the Aussie. I can only imagine the delights of that conversation. Kim and I clambered in on one side of our tuk tuk, leaving the opposite bench free for Ben to sit down on.


The leather seats were warm to sit on. Tropical heat hung in the air, even at these early hours. Frogs croaked under the full moon and countless, stars shone out like diamonds scattered over black satin.


Kim said she was hungry, and as it so happened I had packed some bananas, knowing we wouldn’t have time for breakfast before we left. I split one off the bunch and gave it to her, then took another one and began to peel it. Ben licked his lips.


“You should eat one too, Ben. It’s going to be a long day.”


Ben reached out hesitantly towards the bunch. I shook my head, broke a banana off and slowly peeled it, while looking into his eyes with the most filthy glance I could muster. I saw him swallow. The tuk tuk rattled down the narrow roads, among early morning traders, stacking boxes under colourful blinking LED covered stalls. I held the half peeled banana out to his mouth.




With every large stone in the road that the wheels of the tuk tuk found, the vehicle bounced. I smiled in amusement as Ben struggled to do as he was told, the tip of the banana glancing his nose and dancing around his stupidly opened mouth: banana fellatio. It was a little arousing to watch.


Just as his lips got around the end of it, I withdrew it and turned to Kim. Ben’s teeth snapped shut on nothing.


“Hey Kim.”




“I’m curious. You  told me you broke up with your boyfriend before you went travelling, that’s too bad, but I’m curious as to the kind of guy you like.”


Ben had his eyes on the banana in my hand. If he could only grab it, but I know he knew better than that.


“Uh… I like uh… kind guys. And smart – they have to be smart, because I don’t like stupid guy. And, maybe they are a bit – like they make me hungry, you know? Haha. I kind of like artists too…”


I smiled and looked disparagingly over to Ben, who was still eying the banana I was toying with in my hand, teasingly near my lap.


“It’s a shame there’s no one like that where we’re staying, huh?”


Kim and I laughed as Ben’s shoulders hunched. I held out the banana to him, but he was refusing to play the game. That wouldn’t do, so while Kim was distracted, looking out at the increasing lights of Siem Reap proper, I gave Ben a kick to the shin with my hiking boot. He cried out in pain then caught my eyes and leaned forward obediently to the banana.


Kim eyed Ben and I with amusement.


“Are you guys…?”


I threw back my head and laughed so loud our tuk tuk driver craned his neck around to see what was going on. I could see the illuminated roof of the grand ticket offices a short way away.


“Oh my god Kimmy, no! God no! Can you imagine someone like me with… with Ben? Even I wouldn’t stoop that low. That really would be scraping the bottom of the barrel, wouldn’t it Ben?”


Ben nodded, trying unconvincingly to laugh as Kim grinned.  He leant forward to take a bite of the banana I was still holding out, but as the tuk tuk stopped suddenly in the parking lot, he missed the bite again.


“Oh stop playing with it, Ben. Good grief!”


He took his bags and  went to get up.


“Ladies first Ben. Always.”


He sat down as Kim and I threw on our day packs and headed out of the tuk tuk. I threw the banana into his lap and told him to get us coffee and pastries from the café in the atrium. There were people everywhere. Tourists from all over the world in large crowds at every ticket window, and a line of forty or so people outside the café, the only fresh java at this time of the morning for miles around.


Kim and I had a good chat while we snaked slowly through the admittance line for day passes. We were almost at the front when Ben came along with the tray of coffees and pastries. I took Kim’s and passed it to her, then took the my coffee and pastry, as well as the items  Ben had got for himself. He looked relieved and went to climb under the railing to join us in the queue.


“No Ben. What are you doing? Look at all the people behind us. You can’t just barge in! Everyone’s been waiting here for a long time. Wait your turn.”


“Katia…” Kim said, touching my arm.


“No, Kim. He can wait. I read that queue jumping is very rude in Cambodia – I’m just trying to help him.”


Kim seemed to accept this dubious explanation. I glared at Ben and pointed to the back of the queue. It was even longer than it had been when we first arrived. Ben shuffled off quickly to the back of the line. Kim and I got our day passes. As Kim headed back to the tuk tuk, I stood against a pillar close to the line up, catching Ben’s eyes as I sensually enjoyed every sip and bite of the refreshments he’d bought. His coffee and pastry lay by my feet.


“Try to hurry up would you?” I barked at Ben, “Our driver is waiting.”


I watched his face fall as I took his coffee and pastry and dumped it into the trash can.  Then I turned on my heel and sauntered out to Kim and the waiting tuk tuk.




Angkor Wat at sunrise is like nothing else. We sat around the gazing pool with hundreds of other tourists, all snapping photos. Because Ben was carrying both of our bags, Kim and I got to crouch down right at the front of the crowd, for the best view. Slowly pinks and oranges seeped into the morning sky, like paint into dark brush water. The orange sun rose slowly above the old stone turrets and the birds sang. Behind us, a hot air balloon sat stationary in the sky, some ways behind Ben, who kept stumbling, trying to balance under the weight of our packs, harassed by the hustle of twenty Khmer women and children all trying to hawk their souvenirs.


The temple itself was amazing. Kim and I ran our fingers down the carvings of the Hindu stories, feeling the power from old stones that bridged the gap between the mundane and divine worlds. Periodically Ben would slump down like an exhausted mule, to catch his breath and I would bark at him to get up, otherwise we’d leave him behind.


I am not completely heartless. I realize the perils of the Cambodian sun and only meant to teach Ben a lesson, not kill him. So one hour into our temple tour, I took back our bags from him, but not before sending him off to get me some souvenirs: a few Khmer silk scarves in various colours. Cambodian silk is second only to their silver. I have a bit of a penchant for silk, and besides – I had plans for it later, which involved a certain little project of mine.




By midday, our group was templed out. We came back to the resort for some refreshments and a few hours rest before heading out to the restaurants and bars on Pub Street later.


As Ben went to go to his room, I took him by the arm gently.


“Oh no. I’m not finished with you. Take a shower, you stink. Use soap.  Then come to my apartment. Number 7. Hurry.”


“Yes, Mistress!”


While he was preparing himself, I went back to my place and lay out a red scarf on the bed. I pulled out the toy bag and began to take inventory.


Handcuffs? Check. Nipple clamps. Weights. Plugs. Lube – of course. Padlocks, keys, vinyl gloves, chastity cage. I lifted out the strap on, but I wasn’t really feeling it today. I laid it out of the scarf in any case.


There was a knock on the door.


“Come in, it’s open.”


Ben came in with a nervous smile and shut the door behind him. I walked over to him, embracing him for a moment, but being sure he was facing the collection of toys on the bed. As he held me, I stroked the small of his back through his T-shirt and pressed myself into his groin.


“Are you ready?” I whispered, stroking his ear.


A moment later, he stiffened, and broke the embrace, his countenance terrified.


“Um… Katia… I mean Mistress… uh… you’re not going to make me… I mean, I want to tell you, I’m not having anything in my bum, OK? That… that is not happening, OK?”




“But Mistress.”


“Do I have to repeat myself?”


Obediently he peeled off his shirt, his shorts and his socks. He hesitated on removing his underwear, so I ripped them off him myself, tearing them a little and taking a few public hairs captive in the process. He gasped as if to protest.


“I make it simple for you, Ben, but you don’t listen. . I told you the other day not to displease me, but you obviously have a short memory. So I’m going to help you with that. How old are you, Ben?”


“27, Mistress.”


“Old enough to know better. Alright, good. Now, bend over and touch your toes. I will be right back.”






Ben complied. I walked into the bathroom, picked up my hard bristled brush and carried it back to where Ben was bowed, balls dangling vulnerably below his clenched bottom.


“I want you to relax, Ben. The more you resist, the more this will hurt. I’m going to strike you 27 times, one for each miserable year of your mediocre life so far. You are going to count each strike aloud. You may cry out, but you may not move. If you move, we will start again, from the beginning. Do you understand?”


“Yes Mistress.”


I turned the bristled side of the brush to his bottom, then reeled back and smacked him with all the force I could muster.


“Ouch! Hey!”


“No Ben. I told you to count. That was one. Now we start again. Unclench those cheeks. Relax.”


I wound back again.




“Ow… ONE!”




“Ow… ouch… TWO!”




Smack! This time the hairbrush caught his sack. He cried out in pain and crumpled to the floor.


“Oopsie daisy, did I miss? I’ll try to be more careful from now on, OK Ben? But I did tell you not to move, so now I’m afraid I have no choice but to start again.”




It took quite a while, but we got there in the end. 27 strikes. I went a little easier on him for the last fifteen, because he had tears running down his cheeks. At the end, I dropped the brush to the floor and cradled his head in my hands, stroking his hair and enjoying the sight of my artistry branded red hot and angry on his bottom.


“Good boy, Ben, I think you are learning.”


I felt Ben sigh into my hands, his body relaxing in this moment between torment, allowing me to caress him, to soothe him and bring him back from the brink.


“I hear from Penelope that you’re leaving for Bangkok tomorrow night.”


“Yes, Mistress.”


“Do tell me where you’re staying and for how long, because as it happens I’m headed there in a few days myself. And before you go, I have a present for you. Stand up.”


Ben shot me a panicked look. But as coy as he could try to play it, the little pervert’s hard-on was clear as day.


I snapped on a pair of vinyl gloves, squirted some lube onto them and  unlocked the hinged cock cage, kneeling in front of Ben, examining his cock critically, as one might with a troublesome faucet.


Penises have always amused me. As a young woman, I sometimes reflected that every man I met – no matter how successful or formidable they seemed –  had one of these ridiculous looking things in their pants, waiting to spring up at something stupidly simple and spew up its contents. Ben’s was bobbing up and down like one of those sprung door catchers – almost pleading for release. Also inconveniently now far too unweilding to go in the cage. I sighed and looked at the clock. The group was heading into town in half an hour. This would have to wait.


“Ugh. Ben, this is not going to work. You’ve gotten yourself far too excited. So, here’s what we will do. You are going to go to my bathroom, kneel down beside the towel rail and wait for me.”


Ben went to pick up his pile of clothes.


“No, Ben. No clothes. And if you need the bathroom, you better use it now.”


As Ben went to empty his tanks, I fetched the handcuffs and the ring gag and burst in on him at the end of his stream. He looked at me, horrified.


“Oh hurry up and shake it off. Good. Now kneel.”


So Ben knelt and I took the handcuffs and fastened him by his wrists to the towel rail.


“Straighten your back. That’s better.”


“My knees hurt.”


“Open your mouth.”


“But my knees…”


I fastened the ring gag around his head, buckling it tight, but not too tight.




“That’s better isn’t it, Ben? Sometimes it takes something more uncomfortable to take your mind off a different discomfort. You can choose what to focus on. I’m going to get ready to go out now.”


Slowly I unbuttoned my shirt, revealing my red lace bra and the breasts that spilled over them. Watching Ben’s eyes as I continued downwards, past my belly button, then completely released, dropping the shirt to the floor in front of Ben. A bead of drool that was suspended from the front of his  gag dripped to the floor. I unfastened my bra fastenings one by one, slipping each strap down. Ben watched intently, his eyes locked on what my fingers were doing.


“You little deviant! You do not look at me unless I tell you to, understand?”


“Mmmghmmm…. Mmm…” he drooled, apologetically.


He lowered his eyes and I took off the rest of my clothes and threw them at him, except my underpants. Those I placed over his head, mostly covering his eyes.


“Red is your colour, Ben. I had no idea!”


Ben tried to smile, but slurped loudly instead, more drool pooling on the floor in front of him.


I stepped into the shower, smiling at this man slave of mine, cowered ridiculously by the towel rail with my underpants on his head. The rhythmic jets of water felt delightful and – as luck would have it – the shower  head was extendable. All of this work had been a little arousing for me, so I took the opportunity before getting dressed to pleasure myself with my jets of the five star resort’s shower. As I moaned with increasing pleasure, throbbing in intensity in response to every drop of water, I watched Ben’s jaw clench and his head turn around, trying to see, but unable to get a good picture through the fabric.


“If you cum, Ben, there will be trouble…”




Pleasure pulsed through me like lightning as I came, placing the shower back in its holster and leaning against the tiles to compose myself. Ben was grunting softly on the tiles, rocking his body forwards and backwards, but he hadn’t cum. Good boy.  I turned off the taps, and wrapped myself in a towel, then hurried to get dressed. I’d probably take my time, savour the food and enjoy a few drinks on Pub street with the crew before coming back to Ben, who would – of course – be waiting for me.