Roanapur. A coastal city in southern Thailand, built by the Japanese military into a port during World War II to support their war effort. Even then, it was a city of criminals, but it found its real place in the world during the Vietnam War, when it became a haven, within which the deserters and the losers of the Vietnam War took refuge, to be joined by the worst villains and criminals on the planet.

Roanupur. An evil city, caught between east and west but belonging to neither, coming to fruition during the height of the Cold War, nurtured by those who came there to ride the wave of the illegal drug trade sweeping across the continent, a last stop on the road to hell, and if you weren’t tough enough and hard enough to look after yourself, you were doomed to take that road to the end.

Roanapur. A city of prostitutes, drug-addicts, mercenaries, killers, and psychopaths of any and every nationality. The Triads. The Mafia. The Columbian and Mexican cartels. The Filipino gangs. The Yakuza. Hotel Moscow. The international biker gangs, the criminal ones. The Hells Angels, the Bandidos, the Australian Comanchero’s. The worst of the criminal underworld. Islamofascists. Mercenaries. Neo-Nazis. The CIA, Mossad, the North Korean RGB, the Reconnaissance General Bureau, and every other Intelligence Agency and criminal organization needing a base outside the law. They’re all there, in Roanapur, come from across the world to butt heads, and jostle for power, in a city outside the control of any government.

Roanapur: The edge of the world, the crucible of hypocrisy, a place where those whose souls have been destroyed in the relentless search for money and power reside. Many who came here to make a name for themselves are swallowed by the darkness, never to return. A cruel fate awaits any half-assed small time crook who accidentally stumbles into Roanapur, for Roanapur is merciless to the weak.

Roanapur. The city I was running to, because that’s where my cousin, Rebecca Lee, Revy, Revy Two-hands, lived and worked, and she was my only hope now. Because when you have New York’s biggest Triad, the Flying Dragons, and the Sinaloa Cartel, after you on the one hand, because you ripped them both off for a bit more than a few million on a fentanyl and meth deal you were the go-between on, and a Federal Grand Jury on the other, coz the Feds are hot on your ass after you moved that fentanyl and meth, along with a few other things they’d had their eyes on, like the bank accounts you cleaned out, you haven’t got too many places to run.

Only Roanapur.

Roanapur. The last refuge in the world for people like me.

“Look, I not going further. This here’s Roanapur. Find your own way in.” The tattooed driver with the mirror shades and the bald head, who’d picked me up from the dive off of Soi Cowboy, and spent half the day driving me down here, pulled over to the side of the road before we got onto the long bridge.

“Your boss told me all the arrangements were made,” I said. I was gonna be pretty pissed if I had to walk into Roanapur from here, but yeah, I knew why this chickenshit driver wouldn’t go any further, coz I’d been here once before, visiting Revy, and she’d picked me up from Suvarnabhumi Airport that time, five years ago, and she’d told me. Guess I was gonna be real pissed.

Revy’d been real pissed with me too, back five years ago.

“Fuck it, cuzzy,” she’d snarled. “What the fuck are you thinking, you stupid little bitch. Stay in New York, where you’re fucking safe. Are you fucking crazy, coming here.”

“I’ve got a delivery to make to this dude, Mr. Chang,” I’d said, and yeah, I wasn’t that stupid. The delivery met me in Bangkok, and I hadn’t touched it. Might have been seventeen back then, five years ago, but I’d worked for Mr. Ong since I was twelve, doing deliveries, and I knew what it was I was delivering, and I knew the penalties in Thailand for what I was delivering, and I knew how to move deliveries and not get caught. Mules? You gotta be kidding me. I had it sent down by FedEx. They deliver anything, anywhere. Better than any mule.

“Chang? Jesus, kiddo. You’re worse than fucking insane,” Revy’d said, looking at me. “Who the fuck are you working for in New York?”

“Mr. Ong,” I’d said.

“Fuck,” Revy’d said. “You’re in deep.” She’d looked at me. Really looked. “You know what you’re delivering?”

I’d just looked at her, and my eyes were as hard as hers.

She’d nodded. “It’s gonna cost you, cuzzy. Family means fucking nothing in Roanapur.”

It had cost me, but Mr. Ong was paying, and Revy was right, family didn’t mean anything to anyone in Roanapur, but we did spend a couple of evenings together, talking. Just catching up, because Revy and I, we were family. All the family each other had, because I knew what’d happened to hers, and I’d known her parents. Didn’t blame her for that at all. I’d have done the same to mine, but mine went before hers, executed by a dealer they owed money to.

The only reason I hadn’t joined my parents was that even at five, I’d recognized there was shit going down as I walked out of the elevator on our floor, late in the evening, coming home from school, because school was safer than being at home. One look, and I’d turned and walked the other way, and then bolted down the fire escape, as fast as five year old legs could take me. It was Revy that’d looked after me, back then, back when she’d found me, back when we were both kids. Back when I was five, and she was ten, and hard as nails, even then. With her parents, she’d had to be.

I’d learnt to be. From Revy.

I’d made the delivery to Mr. Chang. A big one. Got back, and Mr. Ong’d promoted me. I’d worked my way up. A long way up. The go-between on the big deals, that was me. But now? Now Mr. Ong wanted my ass, because I’d crossed him, along with the Sinaloa Cartel, the Feds, and fuck knows how many others, coz I’d made sure those millions were tucked away in half a dozen banks across half a dozen tax havens, and as many safety deposit boxes, and I’d offloaded the fentanyl and the meth to this Yakuza dude, who didn’t give a crap for the Siniloa Cartel or the Flying Dragons, but he’d liked the discounted product.

Now? Now I had to live to enjoy the proceeds.

I’d been frigging crazy pulling the whole thing off at all, even if it had gone off without a glitch, and I knew it, but knowing didn’t mean I’d anticipated all the fallout. Hand’t had any illusions about the extent that the Flying Dragons and the Siniloa Cartel would go too, to get me. Just, itd been tougher to vanish than I’d anticipated. A lot tougher. Which was, yeah, why I was heading into Roanapur. A lotta people headed in to Roanapur. Not so many came out, and the ones that did, they were never the same.

Now? Now, I just hoped family meant something to Revy, coz I didn’t have anyone or anything else, and there was nowhere else to run too. Only Roanapur. And Revy. Nobody else knew about Revy. Not even Mr. Ong. I’d never told him about her, and this time, I hadn’t sent a message to her, telling her I was coming. Too dangerous, and I didn’t need much. A safe apartment, somewhere to get my feet on the ground, change my identity, change my face, get back into business, but for myself this time.

That was all I needed.

You could do all of that, and more, in Roanapur.

“Hey,” the driver said. “My boss in Bangkok tell me where to drop you. Roanapur, that not our turf. I drive you in there, I dead. You see noose there, Miss? That is a warning. I no go further. You get out here.”

Yeah, I saw the noose. I knew the story. Better than he did. Revy’d told me, last time I was here. That noose that the bridge was named after, Slip Knot Bridge, that was a message to be read by anyone heading into Roanapur. For the cautious, the sane - it was a warning. For the reckless, the wild at heart - it was an invitation that was impossible to refuse.

For the desperate, like me?

Didn’t mean a thing, because Roanapur was my only refuge.

If I didn’t move my ass, I was dead anyway, because if I couldn’t make a place for myself in Roanapur, where the fuck else was there, and I knew the answer to that one.

Nowhere.

“Okay, okay,” I said, ‘n I could see this dude was crapping himself. He’d gone as far as he was going, and this was as close as I was gonna get in his cab. Unless I put a bullet through the back of his head and took the cab, but that’d be burning more bridges, and there wasn’t anyone after me in Thailand. Not yet. Safer all round to keep it that way.

Besides, I didn’t have a gun. Not yet. “Get my bags out, I’ll flag down a ride.”

Whatever I could get, and yeah, you had to be careful catching a Roanapur cab. Driver picked you for an easy mark, you’d be in one of the canals with a hole in your head before you could blink and you’d be stripped of everything except your fingerprints. If you were lucky, that is, coz organ harvesting was a growing business these days, and a fresh donor, well, lets just say you’d be worth a few bucks to the right operation.

And that was another reason right there, why I needed Revy. If I was gonna get my face rebuilt, I needed someone I trusted while I was out of it. Otherwise - well, when you were already on the operating table, what was to stop them doing a few different procedures, and tossing the remains out with the garbage. The short answer was, this was Roanapur. Wasn’t anything to stop them. So yeah, I needed Revy. Just hoped she cared enough to help. No guarantees though.

Revy was one cast-iron bitch.

But then, so was I.

Driver got out of the car without a word, opened the trunk, and thirty seconds later both my suitcases were on the pavement, and I shrugged.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said to his back, and I was wasting my breath.

Guess I’d really have to make my own way in, and yeah, well, this was gonna suck big time coz local cabs were few and far between. Cut-throat business, driving a cab in Roanapur. Uber? You’re killing me, dude, you are. Minute the Bangkok bunny was back in his car, asshole pulled a U-turn and he was gone, and me, I was baking already. Gulf of Thailand, it was supposed to be hot, but Jesus, this was a frigging sauna on steroids, and my top was gonna be see-through any second now.

No idea where Revy lived these days. Last time I’d been here, last time I’d seen her, that’d been five years ago. I’d stayed upstairs from some bar in a whorehouse, the Sloppy Swing was what the sign said, and the fat old bitch that ran the place had offered me a job.

“Only way a kid like you’ll survive in Roanapur,” she’d said, ‘n then she’d cackled. “Young and tight, they’ll love ‘ya, kiddo.”

“I’m here from New York to see Mr. Chang,” I’d said, real cold, ‘n she’d seen the flying dragon tattoo on my shoulder, and she’d backed off. Instantly. Doubt that’d work this time, because if Chang knew I was here now, he’d be after me himself. Sell me back to Ong, or the Siniloa Cartel, or maybe just to the highest bidder, but then, anyone here knew who I was, they’d do the same, and I was fooling myself if I thought otherwise. Except maybe Revy. Revy was family, for what that was worth, and I was hoping it was worth something.

Have to get rid of that tattoo too. Dead giveaway, which was why I was wearing long sleeves, and a light linen jacket. There were places that flying dragon tattoo would get you killed, just on principle. Other places, you’d wish you were killed first.

“Hey, honey. How much?” The fat guy in the old Mercedes pulled up next to me, and Jesus, what was this? Halloween? Dude was wearing some kinda superman costume that barely held in his beer-gut, ‘n a cowboy hat. I liked cowboy hats, ‘n when I checked the old watch on my wrist, because I didn’t use digital, ever, except maybe throwaways, yeah, date said thirty one October. Halloween. It was.

“You wearing cowboy boots too?” I asked, smiling a real fake smile, the way some Chinese whore looking for a guy with some bucks to throw around would. “I like guys wearing cowboy boots?”

I wasn’t bullshitting him on that one. I did like guys wearing cowboy boots. I used to collect the boots, back in New York. Kind of a hobby. Souvenirs, and I’d had a few. Kind of sad that I’d had to leave them behind, but I could always get more. There’s some real nice cowboy boots around, too. Nothing better than a guy in his birthday suit, wearing cowboy boots, and with a nice hard cock, and I always kind of thought that guys who wore cowboy boots had the biggest cocks. Sort of empirical experience on my part. Maybe one day I could write up a, you know, a Ph.D on it, or something.

“Honey, it’s yore lucky day,” he drawled. “Ah ahm in fact wearing ma cowboy boots, so you jest park your cute little ass in here, and lemme take you foah ride.”

“Sure, Mister,” I said. “Thousand baht for an all night ride, and I’ll throw in this afternoon for free.” I’d checked the going rates back in Bangkok. Dress like a cheap whore, there’s a thousand bars and clubs you can blend into, and there’s Chinese whores everywhere in the world. I’d worked that one more than a few times.

Get yourself picked up, and you got a free stay. Find a guy like this, and you walk out with more than you walked in with. Place like Roanapur, nine out of ten women, they’re whores, one way or the other. The tenth is probably more expensive, that’s all. I was gonna blend in easily. Already had, and I smiled, and this time it wasn’t a fake smile. Cowboy boots here was in for the ride of his life, and I’d have somewhere to stay tonight. Maybe even some souvenir boots, although he seemed like a nice guy, so probably not.

I never collected souvenirs boots from the nice guys. Only the assholes.

“Throw your bags in the back, honey,” he said, and fuck, he even got out and helped me, and oh yeah, he really was wearing cowboy boots, beautiful cowboy boots, and I did like guys wearing cowboy boots. That, and he wasn’t ugly. Just fat, and I didn’t mind that. Fat guys are happy guys, usually, and I liked happy guys. Work this dude, and I’d have a place to hide out for a day or two while I sorted my shit out.

“You new to Roanapur?” he asked, hand on my thigh, and I smiled at him, and put one of mine on his, and moved it higher. All the way higher.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just arrived from Bangkok. I was on my way to find somewhere to stay, and then have a look around tonight, see what this place is like.” I gave him a bigger smile. “I heard a girl could make good money here if she moved in the right circles.”

“You just got real lucky, kid,” he leered, and Jesus, he was getting a woody already. Didn’t phase me. You used what you had, and I knew I looked younger than I was, and I knew what I had, and I’d used it before. Just wondered what he had, and I did like it that he wore cowboy boots. “I can introduce you to a coupla people that could use a new girl. Do that tomorrow if you like. What’s your name, anyhow, honey?”

“Trexy,” I said. Used to know a Trexy once. Real greedy bitch, so it was probably a good pick. She’d tried to screw me over, and for once, I’d just shrugged and walked away. I’d actually liked her, had a soft spot for the bitch, I’d even looked after her, and that was what hurt. Trexy? Yeah, Trexy would do for now. “Trexy Lee. What’s yours, Mister?”

“Morty,” he said, taking us across Slip Knot Bridge, and into Roanapur. “Welcome to Roanapur, Trexy,” and he smiled. “We’re gonna have a real good time.”

He was right. I knew that as soon as we walked in through the door of his apartment, and it was luxury. Sorta place you saw in Manhattan with dudes who were rolling in it, and I’d been in a few of those. Doing deliveries. Taking payments, Collecting. The odd push out the window, or, you know, bathtub, electric chainsaw, ziplocs and the garbage chute. This place was all glass windows and expensive carpets and designer furniture, paintings on the walls, a dining table with, like, china and wineglasses and crap, and he took me right into his bedroom, and peeled his superman costume off. Oh yeah, I loved his apartment, just the sorta place a girl deserved to hide-out in for a while, and I was gonna give him such a good time he’d beg me to stay.

“I wanna fuck you right now, china doll,” he said, and yeah, he was ready alright. “While you’re all hot and sweaty. You can take a shower afterwards.” He grinned.

“Leave the boots on,” I said, peeling my panties off, and I was a little breathless, because I had this thing about guys in their birthday suits, wearing nothing but cowboy boots, and right now, that was all he was wearing.

“You like the boots, huh?” he asked, and we both looked at them. “Lucchese Romia, made out of Crocodile skin from the Blue Nile.”

“They’re beautiful,” I said, and they really were. “That from Africa or something?” Coz I’d heard de Nile was a river in Egypt, or some shit like that. Didn’t know about any blue Nile though, and Mr. Ong didn’t source any supply from Africa, so I’d never been interested.

“Yeah, Africa,” he said.

“Cool,” I said, thinking oh boy, I’d love to hold those boots and just polish them until they gleamed.

“Stroke my cock for me,” he said, looking down at me. “I want to see those pretty little fingers wrapped around my cock.”

“It’s big.” I musta sounded a little stunned as I eyed his cock, and it was big. Actually, it was huge, and now I was a bit nervous, because yeah, well, I could fake a whore real good, but I didn’t actually have a whole lot of experience with cock’s this size, even if I liked a good fuck as much as the next girl.

“Do it.” His voice wasn’t quite harsh, but it was commanding, and his eyes stared down into mine. “Do it, china doll,” he said again, grinning. “Here.” He reached down, took my hand, guided it to his cock. His fingers clasped mine on his girth and he was so thick, my finger and thumb didn’t come close to meeting around him.

“It’s easy, isn’t it?” He grinned. “You know what to do,” he added. “Now do it.”

I looked up at him, and I held him in my hand, and I did know what to do. My fingers began stroking his cock, slowly, and I knew he was enjoying what I was doing. Enjoying my fingers stroking him to a rigid steely hardness, and he wasn’t the only one that was excited. I was too, and that excitement was growing, the way it always did when the guy was wearing cowboy boots.

Yeah, weird, I know, but that went back a few years, quite a few years, and I was hotter and wetter by the second, just about panting now, and any second, I was just gonna moan out loud, and I couldn’t wait. I didn’t want to wait, and I sorta turned and backed towards his bed, drawing him with me.

“Oh yeah, china doll,” he smiled, watching my hand. “You’re doing real good.” He looked down at my delicate olive-brown fingers, so tiny on his massive white shaft where I stroke him. “Trexy, huh. Cute name.”

I didn’t say a word, just looked down, looked down at that massively long and thick cock I held in my hand and I watched my hand stroking him, that huge cockhead pointing up at me. I watched as his big white hand slipped between us and cupped my sex and his hand wass so big on me. Huge, covering me and his finger pushed into me, huge and thick.

“Nnnnhhhhh,” I whined, biting my bottom lip as his finger penetrated me, sliding up inside me.

“Such a tight little pussy,” he breathed, looking down at me. “Pretty little tits too,” he added. “I love those cute little tits you Chinese whores have.” He grinned, and he lifted me up and back, onto his bed, moving over me.

“I want some of that tight little china doll pussy right now, Trexy.” One of his hands closed over mine where I was still stroking him, and he moved over me as I spread my legs wide for him. He guided his cock towards my sex and my heart pounded. Thumped. His cock was huge and I’m scared, but he’s wearing those cowboy boots. Cowboy boots do it for me every time, because that first guy, that first special guy, he wore cowboy boots, and Morty’s cockhead brushed my sex and I shivered in response. It was going to happen, I knew it was.

“Oh yeah, you like the thought of Morty’s big hard cock fucking ‘ya, don’t cha, ya little whore?”

“Yes,” I moaned, looking up at him. I did, but it was the cowboy boots that did it for me, and he called me a whore. I liked that, I liked him calling me a whore. That’s what that first guy called me, way back. He called me a whore, and for him I was, for that first special guy, the guy that took my heart, coaxed me into his bed, took my cherry, popped me, stiffed me for Mr. Ong’s meth, and Mr. Ong’s money, and then he told me to fuck off, and he broke my heart.

I’d gone back to his apartment. I’d taken the meth back, I’d taken the money back, a lot more than he’d taken from me. I couldn’t take back my broken heart, but I took his heart instead, because I’d loved him, and I’d trusted him, and he’d betrayed me, and he’d broken my heart, so I put a bullet through his, and the asshole, he’d never break any hearts again.

Took his cowboy boots too, because I did want something to remember him by. My first souvenir cowboy boots, and it was those cowboy boots that’d attracted me to him in the first place.

I’d been as wet and as hot and as slippery-ready for him as I was for Morty now, and that huge cockhead brushed against my sex, brushed me where I was so wet and hot and slippery and I melted on him as his hand closed over mine, and he rubbed his cockhead up and down my slit. My knees fell even further apart, and I wasn’t exactly anything like a virgin now, but still, the size of him scared me because it was so big, and my body was burning, on fire, alive with sensations as Morty smiled down at me.

“Oh yeah, china doll.” His voice was low, filled with desire. “Move your knees back for me. I want you to open wide for me, baby.” It turned husky. “You’re going to need to be wide open for me.”

Hesitant, timid, fearful ... well, not really, but he liked that look, and I was excited, I did as he wanted me to do. I drew my knees back, my feet lifted into the air, dangling, and I offered myself up to him. I was scared of his size but my sex wasn’t. My sex wanted him and I was so wet, so sensitive as he brushed his cockhead against me, exquisite friction where he parted my labia a little with his swollen cockhead.

“Further back, china doll, further back. Move those knees all the way back, as far as you can.” He smiled as I did as he asked, drawing my knees back until they brush his ribs, my heels trailing against his hips and my hand was stroke stroke stroking his rigid length and he was steely hard beneath my fingers and his hand was almost gentle over mine, encouraging me, and I knew it was going to be good.

“Morty...” I gasped, and okay, I was a little scared, and my heart fluttered like a bird’s.

“Relax, china doll,” he breathed, and he smiled. “It’s going to happen, you don’t have to pretend to like it. All you have to do is take it.”

He took his hand away from mine, brushed my hair back from my forehead, and my hand was still holding him as he pushed against me and I guided him, his cockhead parted my labia and he was pressing hugely against my entrance. His cockhead pushed thickly. It didn’t slide into, it thrust, it bludgeoned, it rammed, and my knees clasped his ribs tightly as I opened to him, and he pushed and pushed and pushed, and I stretched and stretched and stretched.

“Oh, I like that, china doll,” he breathed, and I knew it was happening. His cock, and he smiled down at me and he knew. “You’ve never had a cock this big before, have you, china doll?”

“No,” I gasped, my back arching, and my hand clasped his cock, and I knew I was going to have to take it.

Any second now.

“You’re going to now,” and he pushed harder still. “Oh fuck, yeah,” he groaned. “You’re one tight whore,” and he reached down and took my hand from his cock, placed it on the bed above my head. “I’m gonna stuff your hot little Chinese pussy full of big fat cock and fuck you ‘till you can’t walk.”

“Ohhhhhh,” I moaned as his weight came down on me, his hands pinned mine to the bed above my head and he was pushing against me, not stopping, I was opening, stretching and I knew I was going to take his cock. All the cock I could take. Maybe more than that even.

“Ohhhhhh.” I stretched for him and it didn’t exactly hurt. I wasn’t a virgin, but he was so big, and my eyes were wide, my head arched back, my knees clutched at his ribs and I juddered and whined wordlessly as his cockhead entered me. Just his cockhead and it really was huge.

“Ohhhh ... ohhhhh.” Morty’s cockhead stretched me, and he was enjoying me. “So fucking tight,” he breathed, and I was. I knew I was, because he was so big.

“Ohhhhh,” I sobbed, juddering. He was so big in me, huge in me, pushing against my channel walls where he was inside me and he was moving a little now, gently pushing inwards, easing himself back, pushing inwards again and I shuddered again, knowing I’m taking his big fat cock, and it’s bigger than anything I’ve taken before.

“Oh yeah, china doll. You are so soooo fuckable, you cute little whore,” he breathed, and his cock pushed deeper, stretching me inside as he took more of me with every movement, not pausing now, sliding steadily, in and out, in and out and I was wet and hot and tight on him as he moved and the size of him. There was fear. Anticipation. Sensation. His cock inside me. Sliding through my entrance. Pressing against me inside.

“Ohhh ... ohhh ... ohhhh.” I sobbed with every movement inside me. His cock was huge. So huge. Rigid. Steely hardness. It slid into me, eased out, stretched me everywhere inside, stretched me where our bodies joined and the sliding friction of his movements was exquisite. My back arched upwards, my knees clutched at his ribs, my feet kicked helpless in the air as he worked his huge cock deeper and deeper inside me, stretched my sex around his girth, around the rigid thickness of his big white cockshaft.

“Oh yeah, you do like that, don’t you, china doll” he breathed. “You like my big cock and you’re going to take it all for me tonight,” and he just kept moving in me, easing his cock in and out, in and out and with every inward movement his cockhead thrust a little deeper, a little higher inside me, stretched me, opened my channel to take him and with every movement my breath puffed out, I gasped, juddered, clutched at his hands, and I knew what I was going to do.

I was going to take it all. All of his big fat cock. As often as he wanted to give it to me.

“Ohhh ... ohhh ... ohhhh.” Oh Jesus, he was huge. He really was. Huge and thick and hard and my entrance was stretched wide around him, I was completely open to him, at his mercy and he was taking me, moving in me, deeper and deeper inside me and I looked up at him, hypnotized by that white skin, his face, his head still wearing that cowboy hat, the bulk and weight of his body against my body, his weight solid on me, against me. Moving on me. In me. More and more of him inside me and what was inside me is big and hard and it was made to fuck me.

It fucked me. He fucked me. Steadily. On and on, and my climax was coming, I was almost there, and then it was, and there was no stopping as it crashed through me.

“Ohhhhh ... Ohhhhh ... ohhhhoohhhhohhhhhh.” I wailed, feet beating and kicking at the ceiling, and I bucked up against him, my hands clutched at him, and that climax swept me up and away in a cataclysmic tidal wave of sensation that filled my head with colors and almost blacked out my vision with the sheer intensity of that pleasure as he came inside me.

His cock throbbed, spurted, he groaned, he crushed me down onto the bed and he filled me with his cum as I sobbed through that aftermath,

“Well, fuck, china doll, you either fake it really good, or you had a good one,” he grinned, a couple of minutes later.

“Jesus, that was a good one,” I moaned, sort of collapsed on the bed. “Can we do it again?”

“You wanna take a shower first, honey,” he said, after we’d done it again, and we were both smiling. “And when you come back, I wanna fuck that hot little ass next.”

“Want to take a shower with me?” I said, smiling, because I did feel good. Really good. First fuck in three months, and I’d really needed that, and I didn’t mind at all that he wanted to fuck my ass. I liked that too. Liked it rough, sometimes, and now was one of those times, and I sorta wondered how many times he could do me. Yeah, I was gonna enjoy staying here, even if it was only for tonight.

“You go start the water, china doll. I gotta make a call, ‘n I’ll come join ‘ya.”

“You bring that cute little ass back to bed as soon as you’re all cleaned up, honey,” he said, fifteen minutes later, still smiling, and he sorta slapped my ass as he left me to it. I didn’t clean up right away though, because I did like the sight of that big cock, so I sorta watched through the crack between the bathroom door, and the door frame, and yeah, well, my heart sank, but I was kind glad I’d looked, because his cock wasn’t what held my attention now.

Nope, it was those handcuffs, a knife, and some sorta gauze pad that he pulled out from that bedside cabinet, and he was pouring stuff from a small bottle into the pad, and I had that sinking feeling, because there could be two things going on here. One, he knew who I was, and he was gonna turn me in, or he was gonna try and get what I’d stashed away for himself, and hey, this was Roanapur.