A Wild and Wet Water Party: The Songkran Slave - The Full Story
Jonathan thought the bad girls wanted to play with him. And they did... ...in a way.
Ari presents A WILD AND WET WATER PARTY: THE SONGKRAN SLAVE (EXTREME THAI FEMDOM), his newest dramatic and erotic novella. Premium subscribers to this substack (upgrade now!) can read the whole story here on My Pen, Her Whip. Premium subscribers can also read every episode of The Film Student and read future novellas on substack when they are released. If you are not a premium subscriber, you can read A Wild and Wet Water Party on Kindle for $3.99.
PREFACE
Kamlai
It's Songkran Eve! That means it is the day before the Thai New Year, and it is the first day of what you farang readers might know as the water splashing festival. I told my girls I was going to drive them around on my motorcycle with our water guns so that we can get wet and make people wet.
Malee
I am so excited for Songkran. Kamlai said we can go on her cool motorcycle. I hope I get to ride behind her and hold onto her the whole day. Or maybe the whole four days if we play every day... I just wish she knew how I felt about her. No... She could never accept it.
Kanaporn
I thought I was going to be celebrating Songkran with my boyfriend this year. Don't get me wrong. I love Kamlai and Malee. But I see so many couples every Songkran. I never have had a good boyfriend. Maybe I'll meet someone this year.
CHAPTER 1
Omniscient Narrator
Pickup trucks crowded with people drinking and dancing moved slowly in the traffic jam around the canal road in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Friends and families were gathered together at the world's largest nationwide block party--Songkran, the Thai New Year. The partiers in the backs of the pickup beds swung pans with long handles to launch water at bystanders. They sprayed folks in other trucks with high-powered super soakers. They dumped pails of ice-cold water on the heads of motorcyclists.
Jonathan couldn't see any of it. He could only see the feet, legs, underwear, and waists of the four hot young Thai girls who had grabbed him, pulled him into their pickup truck, and laid him on the bed. He couldn't lie and say he didn't enjoy the view from below the sexy women as they aimed their guns and brought the fight to rivals. But--ouch!--it hurt when they stepped on him. And he was beginning to think they were doing it on purpose.
It was Jonathan's first Songkran. He had just been walking around on the sidewalk, casually firing at people and drinking beers, tossing his empty cans on the street, shooting some Grab drivers clad in ponchos and skanky-looking girls on a motorcycle in the eyes, giving no heed to whether the people on the other side of his gun had a gun themselves or whether they were talking on the phone. Jonathan thought it was the best festival anywhere, a festival in which he was able to see so many wet young women wearing next to nothing.
He loved how vibrant it all was. Music was blaring from speakers at block parties outside of family-owned small businesses and from speakers in the back of trucks. Hot chicks were hanging from the tailgates of pickup trucks and shaking their breasts and asses. Flatbed trucks with kiddie pools on top became mobile parties. Fun-loving people were dancing in the trucks, sometimes even on the roof of trucks. Tourists in red songthaews (modified pickup trucks) were riding around to take everything in and getting absolutely soaked.
Jonathan started walking in the street, moving with the flow of traffic. The pickups and flatbeds moved slowly. The road was so jam-packed, anyway, that they wouldn't have moved if they were trying to get anywhere. But they weren't trying to get anywhere--where was there to go? They just wanted to splash each other and have a lollygagging good time. The party was from midday to midnight, after all, for four straight days. There was no reason to rush.
The boy noticed a pickup with four achingly beautiful goddesses in the back. Even with so many sexy specimens parading their sopping-wet bodies around the moat, they stood above the rest. Jonathan worked his way up to the car and unloaded his double-barreled gun in their faces and at their breasts. He had hit a tall Amazonian girl right in the eyes! She closed her eyes and displayed a look of annoyance for a moment. Jonathan laughed in his cocky way. The woman quickly recovered and regained her divine air. She reached her hand down to Jonathan. Another girl he'd hit grabbed a beer and held it to Jonathan. Jonathan took the Amazonian's hand. He didn't even need to push himself up. The Amazonian and her friend pulled him in effortlessly. He was actually a little freaked out by how strong they were. But he was, at least at first, happy to be the object of their attention. He thought they were pulling him in to let him ride--and hopefully play--with them. And they were... ...in a way.
CHAPTER 2
Jonathan was looking forward to cracking open a beer and cracking jokes with the Songkran water goddesses partying in the truck. Especially the Amazonian. He figured he could bring her down a notch.
But the gal didn't let go of her strong grip on him. Not until she threw him down onto the bed of the truck. Jonathan's back ached, and his head was spinning.
He wanted to stand up and give that girl a slap. He wanted to ask where she got the nerve to push him like that.
But just when Jonathan had recovered enough to try to stand, he couldn't move. Something was holding him down. He felt twine rope around his wrists and ankles. He gripped his wrists into fists and tried to pull his arms up. They didn't move. He tried lifting his legs. He could only arch his knees a little, but his feet were locked firmly in place.
Then he saw the devilishly cute, angelic faces of the four Thai apparitions looking down at him. The rage he had felt at the women for assaulting him evaporated. The humiliation he had felt having been manhandled by four Thai girls--four docile little Thai girls (except, the one of them isn't so little, and none of them are docile)--vanished. Or, rather, he was still feeling humiliated, but the humiliation felt good to him. Relaxing. Arousing, even.
"Well, well, well," said the smallest girl, who was standing over and to the right of his head, looking almost straight down at him. "We saw your farang ass jumping around like a clown, and we thought we should teach you a lesson." She and her friends spoke impeccable English.
"We saw you polluting our Chiang Mai streets with your garbage, harassing old ladies and young girls," the girl standing above him and to his right said.
"We saw your cute face, your sexy beard, and your nice ass," the Amazonian said.
"She thinks you're cute," said the other, a chubby, but cute girl with long hair down to her waist. "I don't. But we all thought it would be fun to have you in our truck as we drive around."
"We didn't think you'd actually come to us, but I guess you were so drunk and stupid, you did!" the small girl said, her deviant expression piercing him right in the eye. Her face was directly over his face. She could... She did... She opened her mouth and let a long loogie of spit drip down until the force of gravity pulling on its weight caused it to separate and hit him smack in the middle of his forehead. And he couldn't do anything to wipe it away.
As they were chastising him, Jonathan felt a perverse sense of enjoyment and excitement. He had always thought of himself as a bad boy who could pick up chicks and get them to do as he told them. In his mind, he was always in charge. But something deep down within him craved submission. His true desire was to be taken and controlled by a bad girl. Or bad girls. In the dreams he had late at night, there was always more than one girl. Girls stimulating him endlessly but never letting him cum. Girls taking turns riding him, one after another, only concerned about their own pleasure. He'd even dreamt of girls taking their feet out of well-worn boots and pressing them up against his nose and mouth.
And now, here he was, with four bitchy femme fatales looking down at him, mocking him, and telling him how they had taken him for their amusement. It had to be a dream, right?!
Maybe that's why he wasn't panicking. He knew this could never happen in real life. Women didn't just kidnap men off the street and hold them as sexual prisoners. People could see him, couldn't they? Someone would stop them and free him, wouldn't they?
They couldn't just torture him in public. Could they???
There are eight chapters and 8,000 words left! The girls still have a lot of time to get wet and have their feet cleaned by their slave and rest their weary tushes on the slave’s face…
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