After a year - or more, time blurred - they tired of me. One night, they dragged me out, frail and bruised. Two women stood there - Aom and Jaa, a lesbian couple, gym owners too. Aom was short, wiry, with a cruel grin; Jaa, taller, broad, eyes like knives. "He's yours," Naree said, taking their cash. "Good slave," she added, smirking.
Aom tied my hands with a silk scarf - soft but tight, soaked in sweat - cutting my wrists. Jaa gagged me with her wet panties, dripping with piss and sweat, tying it with another scarf. The taste - sharp, sour - choked me. "You're ours now," Aom said, cold. They threw me in their van, drove off, the scarf gag stinking, my body jolting.