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Again this extraordinary woman demonstrates her annoying ability to stimulate the mind. Not just inspiring thoughts, but ones she directs.
The incredibly wealthy Empress Suhan, the very mention of her name compels more thoughts and memories of Thailand. Except these are from a website... pictures... stories... enchanting tales.
‘Join us for sunshine, warmth, and long rides in the scenic tropical jungle of Thailand,’ I recall the web page suggesting.
And beneath the large caption was a most licentious but seductive photograph. Three naked women standing harnessed to some type of cart, like a chariot. Various leather restraints made the three forms of flesh and cart one. And standing in the two wheeled vehicle, holding the reins, was the Empress Suhan... fortyish... commanding... in charge... a most regal woman of Asian descent.
‘Work our pony girls by day, assist in handling them by night, a vacation at Empress Suhan’s plantation will both entertain and relax the pony aficionado.’
It was well past autumn when I came across the site. I cannot remember how or why. But the loneliness of being celibate and the dreariness of winter found me seeking vacation ideas, something different, something exotic.
What could be more exotic than a week or two at a plantation in Thailand where the only form of conveyance was by human pony?
Clicking away, I wore out my
index finger. Empress Suhan’s website was most professionally done, with pictures of dozens of human ponies, all naked but for bit, bridle and harness, and all having a biography, lurid photos included, full name withheld.
Most were well educated Caucasian women who pursued and found the most escapist existence imaginable. The offered information did not relate the terms and timing of their servitude, but all appeared sanguine in their role. The bios were otherwise rather detailed and phrased to suggest that perhaps a lifetime of living in competitive democracy, each day struggling to pay the rent, car loan and credit card bills, was not the utopian existence once envisioned.
Various snippets of information suggested that Empress Suhan paid all the bills. The ponies had free room, board and the most comprehensive of medical care. In one bio, there were before and after pictures. In the ‘before’, a naked woman stood on a small pedestal, looking straight into the camera. Her age was judged to be early thirties, and the viewer could quickly ascertain that despite numerous layers of modest fat, the woman was at one time most alluring. In scanning the calves and thighs, the remnants of development suggested that she was probably athletic in youth.
Beneath the clinical photo was the caption, ‘Eight years out of law school, the legal profession had done little for Ruth M.’s self esteem and one time strapping figure.’
Beside was a second photo, the “after”, same pose on the small pedestal. The woman was trim and well muscled, not gaunt as some women look after weeks of dieting, but truly athletic in the feminine sense. And the caption... ‘Now known as Ruben’s Idol, Ruth has cast aside the drudgery of jurisprudence for the pleasure of serving the Empress and her guests. Her formative years of running track have served her well. And despite the marked change in her appearance, Ruben’s Idol has not lost weight. Under the Empress’s strict training program she has been physically disciplined and toned, with increased muscling to better serve all.’
There was something about the pose, the precision, the institutional nature, like a police photo, that tantalized. Though completely naked, the photos of the woman were taken for purposes other than lewdness. Yes, someone, presumably the Empress, used the images to catalogue her possessions. And the very thought seemed more arousing than a charming, well-styled nude photograph from a high class men’s magazine.
Ruth’s hair was dark, nicely coifed and hung to the shoulders. The aura of nicely sized breasts was diminished by the aforementioned fat. Her pubes were trimmed, but a relatively thick mat covered all things pink.
In contrast, the hair of Ruben’s Idol was boyish, strands of two inches at most, parted in the middle and simply combed straight. The breasts were firm, shaped, most prominent sans contrasting fat. And her mons was depilated to graphically expose to the lens all a woman normally prefers to cloak. The flash of the camera caused to glint jewelry. Ruben’s Idol was pierced about the genitalia... the clitoral hood and perhaps the labia.
The look on the face of Ruth was one of apprehension, disguised apprehension, that of an experienced attorney barraged with the frenzy of the practice of law, the photo evidently taken while Ruth was still mentally dictating her final brief, formulating her last motion to the court. The look on Ruben’s Idol was one of modest sanguinity, as that on a person who has found a simple role in life, performs it well and has found inner peace in its fulfillment.
A close look revealed faint red lines about the breasts of Ruben’s Idol. Despite the painful application of leather to the sentient nipples, the woman seemed contented.
I recall asking myself at the time, can there be pride in such humble service? Can one learn to accept searing bites of leather knowing that behavior will be modified for the better? In being secured to a pony cart like an animal, all governance ceded to those who hold the reins, wield the whip, can there be gratification?
Life’s purpose would be narrowed to the rudimentary task of pulling, laboring, exerting at the behest of others. All thoughts focused on the next footfall, nothing else. Even the cadence would be beyond one’s ability to control. One jogs, canters or gallops only when a throaty command and snap of the reins so directs. The goal, avoidance of the application of the crop, nothing more, nothing less. For an accomplished attorney such as Ruth, the transformation must have been cathartic. But with such catharsis can come can a satisfying purge of ponderous responsibility.
In Ruth’s former life, she ran to avoid the bill collector. Ruben’s Idol runs to please her owner, to proudly display her form and physique. Such an unpretentious perception of accomplishment.
Further clicks of the mouse showed more pictures, many of vacationers being transported about by pony girls. Some photos seemed to be intended to convince the viewer of the simplicity of Empress Suhan’s offering to the female, those who would consider submitting to the transition to human beast. Yes, the website had a dual purpose, not only seeking vacationers but also to entice the likes of Ruth.
In one photo, shown standing on toes, feet well spread, with bridle secured above by reins disappearing from camera view, was Ruben’s Idol. Completely naked, of course, with wrists secured behind her back, her flesh gleamed in wetness, highlighting the rippling of sculpted muscling. Two diminutive Thai women, garbed in sarongs, were soaping her nakedness as the human pony patiently stood to be cleansed, obviously having just completed an exhausting jaunt in harness.
The photo cleverly depicts the sublime happiness of life on Empress Suhan’s plantation. The tender care offered Ruben’s Idol impresses. A pony girl is not wanting for anything. The message... labor hard, please your owner, reap the simple reward of a warm shower and the gentle caress of knowing hands... hands well trained to assure that Empress Suhan’s property is well pampered. A following photo further emphasizes the care. Rubens Idol lies prostrate on a table, firm, perfectly rounded buttocks most impressively protruding upwards as the same knowing pairs of hands expertly knead and massage well worked muscles, her thighs spread to again reveal Empress Suhan’s gift of baubles, a pierced pubes seductively adorned with scintillating trinkets.
Life as a treasured show dog, a dog’s life yes, but one of relative stature. On the plantation, Ruben’s Idol is rewarded each and every day. Perform well and bask in the guardianship of a wealthy owner. Shelter, food, the firm but gentle care of those trained to handle the human beast. All else becomes superfluous.
No one fed, cared for and bathed Ruth the attorney. No, each and every day, as some have so aptly described life in a competitive society, the former counselor at law had to kill what she ate. In that capacity, the daily drudgery diminished any and all esteem. By comparison, at Empress Suhan’s plantation, the kicked and beaten legal pit bull, jaded by the practice of law, became a physically trim and admired pure bred.
Needless to say, the website not only intrigued, but so did the notion of visiting the plantation, described as being a few hours’ drive from Bangkok, precise location undisclosed. An email address was provided for contact, and in reply to my quest and a deposit from Paypal, more particulars were promptly provided.
The cost was considerable, but as a bachelor, much of my cash flow was discretionary. I signed up for a week’s visit and was instructed to wait at a Bangkok hotel. Further transportation to the secretive plantation to be provided.
Chapter Twenty
“Perhaps we’ll talk in the morning, Bobby. You’re rather pensive and seem to have many thoughts but few words. If I’m going to update my files, you’ll need to be more loquacious.”
