The Bamboo Ceiling Ch. 11

James looked back at me seriously. His eyes narrowed at my silent protest. "Are you going to make me ask again, Love?" His voice was lower than before.

I gulped. "N-no, Daddy. I feel pretty tired." I whispered as softly as I could while still being audible.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, lifted our armrests up, and laid facedown under the blanket across James's lap. As slowly and inconspicuously as I could manage, I wrangled James's cock from his jeans without letting the tip poke too obviously through the blanket. Though this was difficult given the sheer mass of the thing. It had been a full twenty-four hours since he last unloaded into me, which explained the unusual bounce of the throb that greeted me. Laying the side of my head on his upper lap just above his fly, I angled his cock such that the top half entered my mouth in between my pillowy lips. Without moving my head, I sucked on as much of the shaft as I could hold in my mouth while massaging the tip with my tongue.

Under James's blanket, and with as little movement as I could manage, I took my only in-flight meal.

---

As we descended onto the tarmac, a salty aftertaste still permeated my cheeks. As far as I could tell, none of the nearby passengers caught what we were doing. Though as much of a slut as James had turned me into, and as much as James had broken my mind, I probably wouldn't have cared if they did. When James gives me the opportunity to take his glorious cock, not much else matters.

James put his hand around my waist and guided me through the airport. There was so much decor that I wanted to stop and admire, but James's firm hand guided me forward. I felt like an overly excited puppy being dragged on a leash.

Like at the airport back home, the other patrons received me with mixed reactions. The men, and several of the women, gawked with various expressions of shock and pleasure. Several of the women gave me dirty looks, as if I had caused them some injury.

I chuckled at their jealousy. 'Why are these local wives so angry?' I thought to myself, 'As a foreign bimbo, I'm far out of their husbands' leagues.' Though this reality didn't stop me from swinging my hips as I walked. I loved the knowledge that I was giving these men a show. I especially loved contemplating how they might use this memory later.

When we finally arrived at departures, James waived down a taxi. When we got in the cab, he handed a small piece of paper with an address to the driver.

Anticipating my question, James leaned over and whispered, "An associate of mine owns a club near the center of town. Some of my favorite girls here work for him."

I sat motionless, containing my jealousy. I knew that James had an affinity for Asian women and feminine men, but the thought of James touring a town famous for ladyboys brought up some feelings in me. I wasn't ready to acknowledge those feelings.

James continued, "You'll like the girls there. We'll be staying in a hotel above the club."

Realization dawned on me. I expected James to have some fun with the locals while we were in Thailand. I hadn't realized that this 'business trip' would be a guise for James to go on a sissy binge.

"Funny story," James laughed nonchalantly, "A lot of the working girls there have a collar much like yours. The owner of the club was having trouble with retention, so I introduced him to the company that makes them. Surprise, surprise: When you put a GPS-tracked, geofenced shock collar on your employees, retention climbs to 100%. Except for the girls he sells, of course."

I gulped. It sounded like these girls were in a similar predicament to me. But instead of being the personal sex slave of one Caucasian psychopath, they were being pimped out to several. James read the fear on my face.

"Don't worry, China Doll," he patted me condescendingly on the cheek, "I won't be selling you off. I've put too much work into training you. And if I wanted to find a buyer for an ass like that, I wouldn't need to go overseas."

I exhaled through my mouth. My widened eyes relaxed.

James laughed but went on. "I shouldn't need to tell you this, but I'll be syncing your collar's geofence to the club and hotel. Like the other girls there, if you try to leave, then not only will I know about it immediately, but the shock will knock you unconscious. But you'd never try to escape from your Daddy, would you?"

"No, Sir," I whimpered submissively. I wouldn't have been stupid enough to try to escape in a foreign country without any money, clothes, or knowledge of the language anyway. But deep down, I knew that I would never try to leave James. I was addicted to being his possession. I had found a purpose and a power in being his toy. And more superficially, I would never be filled the same again if I left him. I had come to crave that thing which had become the center of my universe: That white god of sustenance that lived in James's pants.

When the taxi slowed to a stop, James got out of the car and walked around to my door, signaling that I was allowed to step out. He led me forward to a tall building surrounded by flashing neon lights. The electrified, garish display contrasted against the surrounding traditional architecture in a way that reminded me of a bad cyberpunk movie from the '80s.

A yellow sign flashed above the door that read, 'Lady Lumps.'

'Classy,' I thought to myself sarcastically.

James placed his hand on the small of my back and led me toward the door. A shiver descended my spine as, when we approached the door, James whispered into my ear.

"Your training begins now, Bitch."

***TO BE CONTINUED***