Cashmaster Colin in Pattaya Ch. 01-02

Before you start reading

This is the story of Colin, a young straight guy from Australia. How he explored his dominant side in the seaside resort of Pattaya, Thailand, and took his first steps as a cashmaster.

The story contains domination with a focus on trainers and feet, spitting, verbal abuse, (mild) violence and martial arts. Almost all scenes involve consent. Some chapters contain descriptions of mild raceplay that might trigger you. If you are offended by that, read no further.

English is not my first language. I am also looking for an editor who can correct minor stylistic errors.

In the first two chapters Colin gets to know his first victims, Eric an older man from France and Wisit, a local.

Chapter 1

It all started in a restaurant in Pattaya, on Walking Street. Colin walked in with two lads from Israel, whom he had met yesterday. They ordered nothing special according to the typical straight guy diet, something like spare ribs and French fries. The restaurant was almost deserted. You could tell that the place mainly catered to backpackers. The white plastic chairs and the folding tables added to a shabby atmosphere.

At one of the other tables, an older white man was sitting with a young Thai lad. They were not eating anything, just drinking cola from glasses with ice cubes. That too, here in Pattaya, was nothing special.

Colin paid no attention to it, but Benjamin, one of the Israelis, said something like: 'Looks like Peng has found his sugar daddy.'

All three of them smiled.

Colin sat closest to the other table. He noticed that both the boy and the man looked at him from time to time. Rightly, he took it as a compliment. I just look fucking good, he thought. The Israelis didn't notice, too busy making plans for the rest of the evening. Colin also sensed that the boy was paying a lot of attention to his trainers. He could understand that too. That night, he was wearing a brutal pair of Air Max Plus Nikes or Nike TNs, as most people in Australia call them. They were fairly new, bought six months ago at a Footlocker store in Perth. The Thai boy looked a bit shabby in old Adidas shorts and a red T-shirt. His small Asian feet were tucked into cheap worn-out slippers.

Benjamin was wearing a pair of Nike Air Max 90s but from his spot the boy couldn't see them well. Colin stretched out his leg a little and immediately the boy turned his head slightly. He probably can't afford these kinds of trainers, Colin thought. He hadn't laced up his shoes in the normal way. The ends of his laces were casually sticking out of the top two holes. They were rather loose on his feet, but he liked wearing them that way.

Now the man lit a cigarette. The restaurant had no walls on the street side, but transparent tarpaulins that had been rolled up. So they were actually sitting on a kind of indoor terrace. Colin stood up and walked towards the two other guests.

'Put out that cigarette. Don't like that while we're eating.'

The man seemed nervous. He obeyed immediately, mumbling an apology. The boy also said 'sorry' even though he had done nothing. Colin only nodded at him.

After dinner the Israelis left for their hotel. Moshe had forgotten his wallet. They agreed that they would meet each other here in half an hour. After five minutes, Colin felt like having a cigarette. The man and the boy were still sitting there. He walked over to their table.

Grinning, he said: 'Yo, I do feel like having a ciggie now.'

The man smiled and took one out of the pack. Colin took a short whiff of the tobacco in the cylinder (he did that out of habit), put the filter between his lips and lit the cigarette. It was his first smoke in a few days and he felt the uplifting effect immediately.

He didn't know why, but smoking always made him feel confident, cocky even. So he put his right foot on the empty chair at the table.

Then he gave the man and the boy a hand and introduced himself. He was from Australia, studying Business Management at the University of Western Australia and he had taken a few months off, nothing special otherwise. His plan was to travel north, but now that he had met Moshe and Benjamin, he wanted to stay here a little longer. Exploring Pattaya's nightlife. He thought that was rather corny, but he knew he was young and wouldn't be doing it anytime soon later.

Colin did not mention that he had temporarily dropped out of his studies, against the wishes of his parents. He would rather do something with martial arts, maybe start his own school.

But he added: 'And I actually want to visit some kickboxing schools in Bangkok.'

'That's why you are wearing these Muay Thai shorts. Are you a kickboxer?', Eric asked expectantly.

The boy shook his head. 'I wouldn't call myself a kickboxer, I've just started, but I've been doing taekwondo for years.'

The man's name was Eric and he was from Lyon. He lived in Thailand these days, he said with a smile. Colin found that interesting. The man was certainly not yet sixty, so he was doing something right. Maybe he could work from a distance. Or he was just rich. But Colin couldn't tell that from his clothes. Only his expensive-looking watch betrayed some affluence. He could barely understand the boy.

'What's your name, again?'

Finally Eric said his young companion's name was Wisit. The boy was very small, even by Thai standards. He was also quite thin, seemed to have almost no shoulders. His hair was semi-long with some blonded strands running through it. How old was he? You could never tell that for sure with these little Thai fellows. He didn't look 18 yet, but he might have been in his early twenties as well. (Later it turned out that Wisit was 19.)

Then Wisit blurted out spontaneously: 'Your shoe. I like.'

Colin laughed. 'Yeah? You like my trainers? I noticed you were staring at them.'

He immediately kicked off his trainer and gave it to Wisit, who held it up slightly, like a boy who has unwrapped a birthday present. This is universal, Colin thought. He remembered how happy he always was when his parents gave him trainers for Christmas or to reward good grades at school. The excitement he felt when he opened the fresh shoe box. But Wisit might never have had a pair of Nike trainers on his feet.

The Australian student also noticed how small the boy's hands were. Eric watched intrigued as the boy looked at Colin's shoe from all sides. The backpacker sat down. He had nothing better to do anyway.

'This shoe. Nike TN,' Colin said in plain English, making sure the boy would understand him. 'Paid 240 Australian dollars for those shoes. That's about 170 euro.'

'You have big feet,' Eric said with a hint of admiration in his voice.

'Yeah, size 11, it's 12 on the American table.'

Wisit handed the shoe back now, but Colin just left it on the table. The barmaid came over and asked if they wanted another drink. Eric and Colin ordered beer, Wisit took another cola.

Then Eric said: 'You guys hadn't checked out yet, right? It's on me.'

So this sport really was a sugar daddy.

'My friends haven't paid yet,' Colin said. 'We'll do that when they get back.'

Eric shrugged his shoulders. 'You're all young, spend the money in the clubs or on the women. You're a nice guy, Colin. Just glad to meet you.' Wisit smiled.

Colin knew enough about the world to realise that there was no such thing as a free lunch. But he decided to keep things simple.

'Next week is my birthday', he said.

'Exactly, then it will be for your birthday. How old will you be?'

'22.'

The man raised his glass, Wisit did the same.

'On your birthday, Colin.' They all toasted that milestone.

'Do you have plans for your birthday?'

Colin didn't have any. His parents and friends would call or message him. Maybe he would celebrate with the Israelis. But he hadn't even told them about his birthday. It didn't seem all too important, here in Thailand, pretty far from home.

Without Eric's permission he took another cigarette, lit it and said with the filter already between his lips: 'Actually, I was planning to bang a Thai whore on my fucking birthday.'

Wisit giggled. He had understood that. And on Eric's face he read not disapproval, but admiration.

The Frenchman said, a little softer: 'Here on Walking Street, the whores are too expensive and not very attractive. At least, that's what I understand. But I know a pretty girl of about your age, willing to do all kind of things.'

'A real woman, right? Not some ladyboy with a dick. You have a picture of her?'

Eric nodded. 'I can send you a picture later on, if you are interested.'

Colin spread his legs and touched his cock briefly. Was this his lucky day? The corners of his mouth curled down slightly. He looked at Eric straight on.

'And if I say yes, then it's your treat again?'

Before Eric could answer, they were disturbed by the loud voices of the Israelis. Benjamin and Moshe went to stand by the table.

'Yo hunter. (That's what Ben called him, after the infamous crocodile hunter.) Sorry dude, that took a little longer than planned, but you've been enjoying yourself, I see.'

'Yeah, sort of.'

Colin said, looking at Eric: 'I've already paid the check, so we can go right away.' And then he added: 'Give me your number, mate. We'll keep in touch.'

He unlocked his iPhone 13 and shifted it to the middle-aged Frenchman.

Benjamin laughed. 'Dude, what's your shoe doing on the table?'

Colin smiled back. 'Wisit liked my trainer, didn't you, Wisit? He wanted to take a closer look at it.'

Colin grabbed his Nike TN from the table, put it on the floor and slipped his foot into it.

Ben looked a little surprised, but he played along, raising his left foot. His Nike Air Max 90s were white.

'Yeah, you like mine too?'

Wisit nodded enthusiastically and the Israelis laughed, always up for a joke.

'That man knows a lot about Pattaya', Colin said when they were outside.

Moshe just smiled. 'I'm sure he does.'

The Israelis paid no further attention. They thought Colin had just been chatting with the two. Cheerfully, all three of them walked down Walking Street, the night still ahead of them.

Chapter 2

Eric rented an apartment on the second floor near Bhuakhao market. When he settled in Thailand, he ultimately did not choose a gated community. He liked the grittiness of the neighborhood, the sound of mopeds, the dirt and the noise and the view of boys smoking cigarettes in front of an electronic store across the street. He had been living in Thailand for three years now and he felt at home. People seemed more uncomplicated here than in France, friendlier too.

He came from what people would call a good background. In Lyon, the younger people he knew were mainly focused on getting admitted to a Grande Ecole or some other excellent institution. And the older people seemed only concerned with their careers, their new car or the winter sports vacation in Chamonix, in short with their social position in Macron's increasingly stratified society. A country governed by consultants.

His apartment was simple, but clean. A living room, two bedrooms, a small kitchen and a bathroom with a toilet. On the street side he had access to his private balustrade where he dried his clothes and grew herbs. At first glance, you would think Eric was in Thailand for the boys. But he wasn't. Boy like Wisit sometimes kept him company. He had met Wisit in a gay club. The boy was 19, from the country, and didn't even seem to know himself what he was doing in Pattaya.

That night, as he lay awake in bed, he thought about the handsome Australian from the restaurant on Walking Street. How he came in with his friends, at least a head taller than the smallest Israeli. Dressed in a white Stüssy T-shirt, striking blue Muay Thai shorts, white Nike crew socks and a pair of Nike TNs on his feet. Eric didn't have a fetish for trainers - Wisit had, he had told him - but he remembered how the best-looking boys at his school always wore Nike TNs, popular trainers in France.

As the boys sat eating, Wisit occasionally glanced at Colin' shoes. And maybe Eric was imagining it, but the cocky lad seemed to notice. Seemed to find that kind of attention interesting. He stretched out his leg a little so that his left foot appeared from under the table, the heel on the ground, the toecap pointing upwards. He moved his foot back and forth, almost provocatively. Now they had a good view of Colin's trainer. The midsole was white, the swoosh mint green and the upper had a gradient metallic coloring, lined by fading black "veins" that gave this Nike model its typical aggressive look. Eric understood why those shoes were popular with young straight boys. As soon as they wore them, they looked even tougher. Faster. Meaner.

But it was the way he wore them that stood out. Eric had to admit that it was sexy.

The lace had not been threaded through the top holes, allowing the lip to be pulled up properly, so that the shape looked even more brutal. Between the pulled-up lip and the upper edge of the trainer, Eric could clearly see the firm white fabric of Colin's crew sock. Not surprisingly, Colin's shoes were very loose and occasionally the heel slipped out while he was sitting at his table. (And when Colin left the restaurant with his mates, Eric noticed that his socked feet even slipped out slightly as he walked, that's how loose they were.)

Eric figured that the boy wore his Nikes that way because he wanted to be able to get them on and off quickly. And perhaps because it looked just smart.

And later, as the boy stood by their table, cigarette in his mouth and his right foot on the free chair, he really saw how handsome he was. He had something English about him, something laddish, although he sensed that Colin was more middle class than working class. Very short blond hair trimmed in a military buzz cut, bright blue eyes and a sharp jawline. He was also tall, maybe even 190 cm. Although he was broad-shouldered, he looked more toned than muscular. His skin was very white, pale almost, but not sun-burnt. And it didn't surprise him that the backpacker sported a pair of Muay Thai shorts, sky blue with the famous red and orange Red Bull logo. A lot of lads bought those shorts here at the market because they were comfortable and because, of course, they associated Thailand with kickboxing. But Colin was really interested in martial arts.

No, he couldn't get the hot lad out of his head. How he immediately took off his shoe after Wisit's compliment. So arrogant and sure of himself. How he just left the shoe on the table. Didn't care what the barmaid thought as she took their orders. And how he told them he wanted to fuck a whore on his birthday.

Eric liked dominant guys, especially if they were straight. In France, he had had plenty of dates with dominant gay men, but then it always revolved around sex and it always seemed like those men were just playing a role.

A vague plan began to form in his head. Colin seemed dominant enough, but he wanted to fuck women. How would he like to dominate another man? Or a boy like Wisit, who looked so different. Small, skinny and pretty powerless against the white lad. He pictured Colin, in his apartment, dressed in those brutal kickboxing shorts and that tiny Thai boy at his feet.

Even more than being dominated himself, he wanted to watch. To admire this tall Anglo-Saxon god as he showed his little victim who the real man was. How the expression on his handsome face changed from indifferent to dominant, maybe even aggressive. Would both boys be up for it? He knew Wisit liked young white foreigners, he had told him often enough. Eric could give him money for it, no problem. And Colin could probably use some pocket money too.

The next day he called Saul. (Yes, that was his name.) Saul was an American and well acquainted with Pattaya's 'nightlife'.

'Have you suddenly turned straight?' Saul said, laughing.

Eric explained the situation. 'I met this straight guy from Australia yesterday who is looking for a woman. She has to be submissive. Because I think he likes that.'

'Submissive is never a problem here. So tell me, what's the age range? Old, young? Real ladies or ladyboys?'

Saul sent him some pictures of real ladies. Eric couldn't quite tell which woman was the prettiest. But one picture stood out: a girl with flawless skin and the eyes of a princess. He sent the picture to Colin.

The latter did not reply until the evening. 'Interesting. How much?'

'My treat.'

'Why? Don't get me wrong, sport, but I'm 100% straight and I'm not going to do anything with you.'

Now it came down to it. Eric thought carefully and then he wrote: 'No, not with me, I understand. But I think you are a dominant guy.'

'What makes you think that, queer?'

At that point, Eric's hands began to shake a little. This was the kind of reaction he was hoping for. Colin was not only interested, but he seemed to understand the situation, the power dynamic that was beginning to unfold.

'I saw it in your attitude, how you acted in that restaurant. Tough and cocky. I found that exciting.'

'So what did you have in mind then?'

'Come by tonight, just for a drink. We can talk then.'

But Colin didn't react anymore.

So at 22:00 pm Eric sent another message: 'Maybe you'd like to dominate Wisit a little. No sex. He licks your shoes and maybe your feet. I'll give you 250 euros if I can watch. And I'll pay that woman for you.'

And he immediately got a reply: 'No, poofter. Fuck off.'

But the next morning Eric found that Colin had sent another message, at 03:38 AM. Maybe he was drunk at the time.

'Why should I go after tiny Wisit? Does that make him hot or what?'

'Because you guys look so different. You, the tall white lad versus him, the submissive little Asian. I think the contrast would be amazing. And yes, Wisit would like it, I'm sure.'

Colin didn't respond anymore.