Stickman Readers' Submissions January 12th, 2012

My Thai Mistress (Part 2)

7PM Saturday finally arrived, and I picked up Noi and took her for a steak dinner at the Landmark’s rooftop restaurant.

I was nervous, thrown out of equilibrium, but Noi was acting very calm and self-assured. My eyes could not help but stray to her anklet with some frequency, and Noi appeared to both notice and to enjoy my discomfort. I knew better than to
address the topic directly, and Noi toyed with me throughout the meal—frequently crossing and recrossing her legs, and asking me teasingly if I had been a “good boy,” to which I could only reply that I had been quite preoccupied
with work.

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Over coffee after the meal, Noi addressed “the issue” more directly. “Besides taking me out for dinner when I am free, you are to report to my office each workday at 3 PM. On Monday, you are to bring an electronic scale,
which we’ll be using for your weight-loss program.” (I didn’t consider myself especially overweight, but as an until-recently married middle-aged man I had gained perhaps 20 lbs. since my university days.) “Details
will be provided to you on Monday.”

I made no objection, but simply listened as Noi spoke. “We’ll be spending about 30 minutes together, for your training,” Noi continued, “so arrange your schedule accordingly.”

“Training?” I stammered, confused.

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“Yes,” Noi said, “since you seem to keep staring at my feet, we’ll start with training you to be my footboy.”

I flushed at her use of the demeaning term “footboy,” but kept quiet, hoping to get on her good side.

“Now, take me home and I’ll see you at 3 PM Monday,” Noi commanded.

She could sense my disappointment at the thought of another nearly 48 hours wearing the belt without relief. But Noi had said that she would be the one to decide when it came off, and that she didn’t want to hear from me on the subject,
so I kept my frustration to myself.

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After dropping off Noi without so much as a good-bye kiss (I was too confused to even try), I arrived home rather early for a Saturday night. The fact that I was belted gnawed at my mind. I felt restless, nervous , and entirely out of sorts.
I had a few drinks to calm down, then turned the A/C on full-blast and retired to my bed, where I lay curled in a fetal position under the blankets and tried to sleep.

After an equally tormented Sunday, and a restless Sunday night, I arrived rather bleary-eyed at work on Monday. I tried to get some work done, but mostly seemed to be watching the clock. At 3 PM precisely I stuck my head into Noi’s office.

Noi was, as always, immaculately groomed. Her coolness was a marked contrast to my rather sweaty and puffy face.

“Come in, close the door and let’s get you weighed,” Noi commanded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I followed her instructions.

The scale that I had brought indicated 97 kg.

“We’ll weigh you on Mondays, and I expect you to lose one kilo per week,” Noi said. “You won’t like the consequences if you disappoint me, so you should probably get a scale for your condo so you can track
your progress.”

My mind raced. Why was I putting up with this? Why didn’t I leave the office, go to a locksmith, have the belt removed and never speak to Noi again? Why, instead, was I standing in her office, belted, and listening to her threaten
me into losing a considerable amount of weight? How was I enjoying “dating” Noi when all that had happened was buying her an expensive meal? Why? Why was I putting up with this? Yet, for some unknown reason, call it a compulsion,
call it folly, call it madness, I was staying and listening to Noi.

My voice wavering a bit, I said “Noi, I know that you are in charge, but I didn’t sleep well this weekend, and I’m not focusing very well at work. Can you just trust my word that I won’t pursue other women?”
I pleaded.

“Oh, trust you, when you could just sneak out for short-time,” Noi sneered, “now I told you I will determine your release, and if you even indirectly address the topic again, you won’t like the consequences. Now,
get over here, get on your knees, and kiss my feet.”

Again, I should have fled the office. But, face flushed with embarrassment and shame, I instead complied with Noi’s confidently-presented order. Noi slipped off her open-toed, high-heeled sandals and happily presented her toes to me.
As I licked and sucked her toes, I could see the anklet, with its three (!) keys. Who were the other two, I wondered? And how often were they released? These thoughts tormented me as I knelt at Noi’s feet and humiliatingly licked and sucked
her toes. My middle-aged knees soon began to ache, and I shifted my weight uncomfortably.

“Tomorrow, footboy, we’ll get you started on providing my pedicure, and if you don’t prove a quick study, you won’t like the consequences.” What were these “consequences” that Noi kept referring
to? I could only imagine, but I knew, deep down, that as crazy as the situation was, I would be back tomorrow.

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