Yes ... Eventually

You stand, outraged, and back away a step from the table, then rush past it toward the penthouse interior before you hear Malee's voice.

"Erinn! Kuhn Erinn!"

You stop where you are. You're not EXACTLY sure what the term "Kuhn" means, but you've managed to infer that it's s term of respect, one that Malee hasn't used with you ... yet.

There is a quick conversation in Thai, which you of course do not understand, but you do hear Malee call her boss "Kuhn Dantanavanawong," which is what YOU had been instructed to call him. Does this mean that she's placing herself on your level? Or that this has just somehow become a formal situation for her? You haven't a clue, and curse your own ignorance ... for a moment. Once you've stopped moving, that out-of-body, not-quite-connected-to-the-world feeling steals over you again.

You glance over your shoulder at Malee, who is still speaking quietly with Mister Dan. She sees you, smiles, and waves you over. "Please return, Kuhn Erinn."

You do so, slowly, hoping you appear cautious when in fact you're starting to feel not just detached but numb, drained. Exhausted.

You arrive at the table with no memory of having walked to get there and stand at your chair, staring dumbly at the two of them.

"Please take your seat, Kuhn Erinn."

You do so, feeling almost like your life is a slow-motion action scene. "Please have a drink, little flower," Malee continues, "You look like you need it,"

You comply, barely tasting the drink. Your sense of disconnection seems to be getting worse.

"Kuhn Dantanavanawong would like to apologize. He does not speak English as well as he would sometimes like, and therefore sometimes phrases things ... oddly. He merely wished to get your measurements so the company ... we make custom-tailored fashions for our clientele, did you know? ... can begin work on your wardrobe."

You take another sip of the spiked lemonade. "Wardrobe?"

She smiles at you again. Boy, these people sure do seem to smile a lot. "Yes, as part of your employment you've agreed to wear only Phuhying Dek phuchay fashions for the next year. Kuhn Dantanavanawong wishes to have your wardrobe ready for you when you return from your vacation."

Mister Dan suddenly injects himself into the conversation. He takes your hand, which had been lying limp on the tabletop. His fingers seem very warm. "Please, forgive old man. Mister Dan sorry, okay, Kuhn Flower?"

You smile and nod. After all, he just tried to call you "Kuhn LaFleur," which Malee has intimated is a high honor. You reach for the lemonade again, but you seem to have lost the coordination or strength in your fingers. You simply fumble at it and knock it over. You try to apologize, but can't seem to work up the lingual dexterity to form words. Or the strength to pick yourself up out of the chair or even lift your arm out of the spreading pool of lemonade. Or the will to care much. Luckily, the pretty maid from before arrives soon with a damp rag and a pair of rubber gloves to clean up the spill and your arm, so that's okay.

Mister Dan and your sweetie, Malee, disappear for a time ... minutes or hours, you're not sure. You don't think it's days, though. When they come back, someone behind you puts his hands under your arms and lifts you out of your chair, then lays you out on the concrete by the pool, taking care not to let you bang your head. When you're on your back, you see it's Veera, the security chief. You smile at him and try to wave because the concrete is nice and sun-warmed, but your arms don't seem to want to cooperate, so you just keep smiling.

Veera lifts your head up just enough to get the sleeveless shirt up and over your head. When he's done, he lays you back down, stretching your arms up and out over your head.

He kneels again, way down by your shorts, which seem miles away for some reason, and undoes the snap. You think for a moment that there's something wrong with him removing your shorts ... something you should be ashamed of, maybe? But you can't remember what, or bring yourself to care, it feels so good having that tight, tight waistband loosened. He pulls the short-shorts about halfway down your thighs. Then, glancing at your .., oh, that's right, you're wearing Malee's panties ... he looks up at your face, says, "Kathoey," with a big smile on his face, and begins rubbing your prick through the soft, lacy material.

You know there's something wrong here, but you don't seem to be able to think what it might be. It's more like you have the idea you SHOULD be outraged without actually being able to work up any anger. And his hand feels so GOOD ... warm and strong and gently stroking. Soon you're fully hard.

Someone calls out something in some language you don't understand ... which could be English by now ... and the wonderful, warm stroking goes away, and Veera repositions your prick so it's entirely contained by your panties, then places one of your limp hands ... the left, you think ... over it. You can feel the warmth, but no stroking. Mister Dan and Malee point their phone cameras at you, and you try to smile at them. You're not sure if it works.

But soon Veera is back. He strokes you back to full hardness, then places your hand under the panties, touching yourself. More pictures. Then he pulls the panties halfway down your thighs to join the shorts, your hand stretched out above your head again. More pictures. Then he FINALLY starts to stroke you again, and this time the phone cameras just stay pointed at you. You try to hump his hand but just don't have the strength or coordination. You still can't manage words either, but you do manage to grunt and moan in what you think is an appreciative manner.

When you cum it seems, if anything, even more intense than when Malee brought you to climax last night ... after nearly a full day of teasing. Certainly you've never sprayed baby batter all over your stomach ... and chest ... and chin ... before.

Veera scoops up a double fingerful of cum and presses those fingers between your lips. You don't want to ... you don't want to do ANYTHING but sleep right now ... but your tongue automatically wriggles back and forth, cleaning up the bitter, salty fluid. Veera then pets your hair and says, "Di. Dek di. Bonne fille."

Things grow surreal and even more disjointed after that. The maid reappears to clean you up in her rubber gloves and ... latex dress? Mister Dan, Veera and Malee take your measurements, an activity apparently far more complex in the world of custom fashion. Why would they need to measure your chest twice, as if for a bra? Or the length of your spine? And three measurements ... each ... for the circumference of your upper arms, thighs and calves? Why measure the length from your coccyx, between your ass cheeks (and right up against your sphincter muscle - THAT was uncomfortable) and up over your penis to your bellybutton? Or the curcumference of each ass cheek? Why measure your hips as well as your waist like some girl?

And why measure your prick - length and girth - both soft and hard? You didn't even get an orgasm out of that one, but then again, you didn't even bother to open your eyes to find out who was playing with your junk. Too tired ...