My Thai life 3

My story continues about my life in the Thai sex Industry and how it began

Part 3
I have been asked why I write this stories. So I’ll try to explain. In Thai culture it is common for a woman to keep her past secret. เสียหน้า is losing face or embarrassment. It is very important part of Asian culture however I have foreign acquaintances that have asked me to document my life and experiences and I have grown to express myself truthfully because I love to write. Believe or not that these are true stories and many many woman here have had the same experiences.

Why we don’t scream, why we don’t run
In Thailand we have many beautiful things: temples, smiles, food, Songkran, respect for elders. But there is also a shadow side nobody puts on the tourism posters.
1. บุญและบาป – Merit and sin
We grow up believing that what happens to us is because of karma from past lives, or even this life. When a man forces you, many old people will say “maybe you did something bad before, now you pay the price.” So the girl feels it is her fault twice: once for what happened, once for having bad karma. Easier to stay quiet than fight the whole universe.
2. หน้าตา – Face
Not just your own face. Your family’s face. Your village’s face.
If I go to police and say the factory manager raped me, tomorrow the whole province knows. My nieces cannot go to school without fingers pointing. My mother cannot sell mangoes at the market because customers whisper. My mother will เสียหน้า so bad she might get sick from stress.
Thai people will choose to eat shit quietly rather than let the family lose face publicly.
3. กรุณา / กตัญญู – Gratitude. 
This is the biggest chain.
From the day we can speak we are taught: parents give us life, raise us, feed us, so we owe them forever. The youngest daughter especially is expected to “look after the house” first. My two older brothers can drink, gamble, make babies everywhere, and it’s “men being men.” But if I don’t send money home, I am ลูกเนรคุณ – ungrateful child, worst label you can have. People will spit when they say my name.
So when Mother cries because the landlord wants rent, or my little nieces needs books, I open my legs again. Because love and duty are the same word here.
4. เกรงใจ – Deferring to others
We are trained from kindergarten: don’t make trouble, don’t make people uncomfortable, don’t say no directly. Even when a man is pulling your hair, a small voice inside still says “maybe I’m being rude if I fight.” Sounds crazy to foreigners, but it’s muscle memory.
5. Community punishment
In Bangkok you can disappear. In province, everybody is related to everybody. The factory manager is cousin of the police captain, or golf buddy of the district chief, or donates money to the temple every year. If I open my mouth, I am the one who gets transferred, fired, blacklisted, or worse. The man? He just changes girlfriend.
6. Money talks louder than tears
Poor families here measure love in baht. When I give mother, Mather says “Mae is so proud of you.” When I sent nothing, she says “Why you forget your family?” So the money that comes from my body becomes proof that I am a good daughter. Sick, but true.
That is why so many of us smile in the photos while something inside is dying.
That is why we say “mai pen rai” even when everything is very pen rai.
That is why some girls jump from condos, some girls take ya ba to forget, and some girls (like me) learn to close our eyes, open our legs, and count the money afterward.
We are not weak.
We are just carrying the whole family on our backs, and the backpack is very, very heavy.
If you are farang and you wonder why we don’t fight harder, now you know.
This is the air we breathe since the day we are born.
Fern
(still carrying, still breathing)

Boss has more

My manager thought that I should not come his office during normal shifts and had me transfer to the evening shift to not bring attention to anybody. So I started to begin my work at 1700 instead. When he wanted me he would text me to come to the office. Usually it was 1800 or so. The first evening that he summoned me was during the first week of evening shifts. I arrived promptly. Workers were not allowed to have phones because of the distraction. Many still did but risked trouble if we get caught. He instructed me to do so so I would get his texts. I missed his first texts and didn’t respond prompt and was spoken to about this sternly so in future I kept my phone in front pocket to not miss the vibration.

So he summoned me and I snuck out to the offices area. I knocked and he said come in. I locked the door behind me. He said nothing to me. Just pushed me onto the couch. Kicked my legs open slowly but forcefully. Kneeled between my legs and pulled my pants down along with my panties. He motioned for me to remove my top shirt and bra. No words. He jerked my bottom up and forward. He started licking my pussy. I was shy because I had not showered since home. Instinctively closing me knees some. Finally he spoke. I like it like this he said. I relaxed my knees. He then removes my pants and panties along with my shoes and throws them aside. For the next 15 minutes and licked and proved me with his tongue making me raw from his beard stubble. Thankfully most men here do not have thick face hair like foreigners do. I started to enjoy it if I just close my eyes. It was not my first time being in this position though but I learned to let go the more it happened in the past with somebody else. I could feel him wanking himself while eating me. I was very wet now and I could see my juices all over his face.

After he was satisfied feeding on me he throws my legs backwards and stands. He pulls his pants down and dives his dick into me.
No condom. No warning. Just one hard push until I feel him hit the end. I gasp because it stings; I’m wet but not stretched yet. He doesn’t wait. He grabs my ankles, folds me like a suitcase, and starts pounding. The couch squeaks so loud I’m scared the security guard outside will hear. I bite the inside of my cheek to stay quiet.
His belly slaps against mine. Sweat from his chest drips onto my tits. I stare at the ceiling and count the water stain (one, two, three…) until the pain turns into that dull heat I hate myself for feeling. My body always betrays me in the end. I get tighter, wetter. He feels it and grunts, “Good girl.”
When he’s close he pulls out fast, climbs over me, and shoves himself into my mouth. Four, five rough thrusts and he comes, thick and hot, holding my ponytail so I can’t move away. I swallow because I already know fighting makes him angry. He keeps himself there until the last drop, then wipes his dick on my cheek like I am a rag.
He stands, zips up, throws me the small pack of wet wipes from his drawer.
“Clean up. Back on the line quickly”
I wipe between my legs is raw from his stubble and from him. I pull my panties and uniform back on with shaking hands. The wipes are too small so I finish in the water room. I return to the floor with knowing looks flashed my way.

Later at home I can wash but I know I’ll have his smell in my nose all night. Mother knows what’s happening to me I can sense it. She stays quiet, happy I’m working.