Epilogue

Two weeks at the camp passed in a heartbeat. On my last night, after another session with Pam’s strap-on, they had finally fucked me properly, but fifty hard lashes to my pussy had rendered pleasure impossible. Bruised, swollen, and throbbing, my pussy hung between my legs, sending jolts of pain up my spine with every step.

When I was called into Pam’s office, the pickup already waiting, I walked distinctly bow-legged. Much to my surprise, she offered a seat in front of her desk, and I gingerly sat down.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked, her broken English replaced by a posh British accent. “I just put the kettle on.”

I stared at her, my mouth hanging open. “W-what?”

“Most of us speak proper English,” she said and chuckled. “I grew up in London and started this business after I got my Master’s degree.” The kettle whistled, and she walked over to the table. “Of all the experiences we offer, Klong Narok’s my favorite. So, would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please. I didn’t realize this was your business.”

“It is.” She poured hot water into two cups. “How did you like your time with us? Was it everything you hoped for?”

“It was a wild ride, that’s for sure.”

“Well, you did tick every single box on the consent sheet. Most first-time guests opt for a more relaxing stay.”

I gnawed on my lip, feeling the excruciating pain radiating from my crotch. “I… uh… I was thinking. I wanted to travel to Singapore next week, but… uh… can I book another two weeks? Just charge my credit card.”

Pam laughed. “Sure. There will be another half dozen arrivals, but I’m sure we can squeeze you in.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a form. “Or, you could put your training to good use.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s another experience I can offer. My cousin runs a riverboat whorehouse in the Mekong delta. It’s for locals and perfectly safe, but it’s a very realistic experience. Dirty and degrading, just the way you like it.”

I felt my nipples instantly harden. “W-what would I have to do?”

“What any whore’s expected to do. Spread your legs for anyone who’s paying.”

“It’ll be like here? They will fuck me in… uh… in any way possible?”

Pam grinned. “There will be a lot more sex. Dozens of men a night, and you will be expected to perform the most despicable acts you can imagine. Nothing an educated woman like you would normally do.” She pulled out another form from the drawer and slid it over. “Is that something you’d be interested in?”

I glanced at the sheet of paper. Two weeks on the boat were significantly cheaper than the stay at the camp, and I could imagine why. A blonde Western woman with large breasts whoring herself out? There would be no shortage of paying customers.

When I read the list of activities, I paled. “They’d make me do… that? W-what if I refuse?”

She shrugged. “Whores are beaten into submission, same as here. And I hear scorpion venom, injected into nipples or clitoris, is quite a powerful means of persuasion." With a smile, she sipped on her cup. “So, what do you say? Join the lowest of the low?”

Just a few minutes ago, I would have said I’d experienced it all: back-breaking work, sex with multiple men in every hole, the brutal strap-on, regular beatings, burning chili in my most sensitive places. After reading that list, I wasn’t so sure.

Instead of an answer, I picked up the heavy gold ballpen from the desk and scribbled my name above the line. Singapore would have to wait.

Pam retrieved the form. “Thank you, my dear.” She grinned and suddenly had the tiny chili bowl in her hand. “I saved my strongest concoction for last. Now, if you’d kindly get up and lean over the desk.”

My heart almost stopped. “Please, no! I’m already swollen; I can barely walk!”

“You don’t have to walk; in your new profession, you earn your money on your back. And you should have learned by now that disobedience only makes it worse.”

Trembling and close to panic, I got up and leaned over her desk. The first time, I had been unprepared – this time, I knew exactly what was coming. And if anything, it would be worse. I was too swollen to pee, but as Pam lifted my dress, my battered sphincter failed, and the mess spattered onto the floor, forced out by the violent contraction of my bowels.

“Tut, tut,” she said, stepping back. “You know what to do, right?”

I turned my head. “Ma’am?”

Pam tapped on the form I had signed. “A riverboat whore doesn’t leave a mess for someone else to clean. The sooner you get used to it, the better.”

She had a point – it was one of the many activities I had agreed to. Drawing a shaky breath, the stench of my own waste filling my nostrils, I struggled to my knees, the chain of the leg irons clattering on the wooden floor. The last remnants of my pride made me hesitate for a moment, but I stuck out my tongue to scoop up the mess. It would be a miracle if I could keep it down, but I had to try.

Pam’s voice slipped back into her broken English. “First eat, then chili and gag for way to whorehouse. Souvenir to remember.”