Archive for BDSM

Stickman: The Naughty Webmaster for Naughty Boys

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 16, 2012 by สะพานลอย

It is interesting the way my reading patterns of the Stickman site have changed over the years. Lek and I cannot recall with certainty when we first encountered the site, but one thing is certain. In approximately 10 years, the aesthetics (if one would even call it that) of the site itself have not been modified at all, and seem stuck in a place in the history of the Internet that recalls a period of time when people actually still used the word “webmaster”, a term that now strikes us as downright silly.

In the thirteen years or so since the Stick has been stuck in 1999, everyone has in essence become a “webmaster.” Hell, Big Baby Kenny Ng, the bloated professor of bar girl economics and sex tourist from California, might justifiably call himself a “webmaster”, even though the only thing he has ever “mastered” is the fine art of not getting his dick stuck in the zipper of his trousers.

At first glance, it seemed that the Stick is comfortable with the dubious layout of the site, and Saphan Loy, for one, was content to let it go once we discovered a way to circumvent the minefield of banner advertisements (yes, they still exist) strategically placed so that an errant click by an alcoholic sexpat would create, what is it, like $.035 revenue per click to fill the Stickman’s coffers?

At that rate, the Stick may one day enjoy a jet-setting lifestyle similar to celebrity blogger Big Baby Kenny Ng, or high-profile writers like Dean Barrett and Stephen Leather. Or even, if he dreams big enough dreams, Christopher Moore.

“I know your price. And I’m buying. Buying something for myself this night.”

Speaking of Moore, the “naughty” darling of the sexpat/bar crawling crowd, Saphan Loy was recently gifted a copy of the miserably written and horribly plotted A Killing Smile, which Lek and I picked up the other day here in the executive suite of Saphan Loy headquarters while enjoying a tall glass of lemonade post-coitus. Jumping around the book a bit (which is easy to do because all of the words that are strung together sound exactly the same and make no sense whatsoever), we came across the following passage:

At Headquarters [Thermae Coffee Shop], Lek and her friends became the grammar for the abstract words “sexy,” “good,” “beautiful” giving those words faces and flesh and emotions. They floated around the floor like dreams auctioned off to the first farang who gave that discreet nod, wave of the hand, or an of the other signals that meant the same thing. “I know your price. And I’m buying. Buying something for myself this night. Something I can’t point out but I find outlined in the way you dress, walk, and smile.” And they created the illusion that each farang was part of their dream and the promise in each gesture and glance that their world of smiles lacked nightmares.

Shortly after reading this passage aloud to my sexually sated Lek, who lolled about on the leather couch in the executive suite with nary a stitch of clothing, like the kind of Siamese woman you see in old Daguerreotypes from the 19th century bathing in a muddy river naked to the world (and she did in fact get damp patches all over the fine Corinthian leather in places), I then asked her to become the “grammar” for far less-abstract words like “blowjob now” and “get me another ice cold beer from the refrigerator.” I know what you are thinking, and I am the first to agree. Yes, pretty “naughty” of me.

So what is with the Stick’s use of “naughty bar” or “naughty boys”? Think about it. If a friend of mine told me one day that he was planning a trip to Bangkok, and I responded by saying “Great town. Say, you’re not planning on going to the ‘naughty’ bars, are you?” he would likely look at me as though my brain had just been cataclysmically rendered inoperable as the result of a stroke or irreversible brain embolism.

There is something else implicit in the word “naughty.” And it usually means someone “naughty” is about to get a spanking. Yes, Dean Barrett, that would mean that you are. Now bend over, and take your buggering like the “naughty” man-whore that you are. My question, then, is this: do the ‘naughty’ boys who ‘partake’ in the ‘naughty’ nightlife of Bangkok therefore deserve a spanking from the ‘naughty webmaster’ himself?

Listen, you naughty girl! I am a Webmaster! Get it through your pretty little head. Do I need to spell it out? W-E-B-M-A-S-T-E-R!

No wonder then that this week, the Webmaster plugged the BarBar bar, which is where one can pay to indulge in a bit of fetish play — that is, if you are ‘naughty.’ In BarBar, where Saphan Loy (pre-Lek) once enjoyed a cocktail or two, one is treated to a scene of your choosing. For my benefit, one of the Isan farm girls trotted out a young minx in a school uniform (her slave) and forced the young fawn to kneel at my feet, while the mamasan hovered about trying to get me to purchase lady drinks for all and sundry. Or should that be “slave and Mistress drinks?”

Excepting the hard pressure salesmanship of the mamasan, all in all it was so far, so good. Or should I say, so far, so naughty? After all, the Siamese sin-seller at my feet was stunningly beautiful and played the part of my slave quite convincingly. She was so stunning in fact that, because of my advanced age, I started to hyperventilate.

We won’t bore you with the details of what happened after I started to hyperventilate, as it involved a “nurse” with an extraordinarily “naughty” disposition and a satchel of undoubtedly non-standard medical devices. But should you have a fantasy that you would like to have played out in a darkened playroom in a tropical Southeast Asian metropolis, you would do well to pay them a visit at BarBar.

Saphan Loy’s only complaint is that the staff could not accommodate my fantasy with the staff on hand or the crude bondage equipment on offer. I had shared with the mamasan that my fantasy would be to convert the entire premises into a garment factory, complete with sewing machines staffed by the lovely ladies, where I would be the “naughty” supervisor and force the women to meet grueling production quotas or receive strange and unusual punishments.

When the fantasy was described to the staff at BarBar, they seemed confused and offered instead a few whacks with a rattan cane, followed by a hot water enema.

So, call us “naughty”, Lek and me, as we dream about our garment factory. And when in doubt, keep in mind the mellifluous words of Mr. Moore.

“I know your price. And I’m buying. Buying something for myself this night.”

And should you find yourself feeling”naughty”, and that a visit to the “naughty” bars of Bangkok is in order, you should ask yourself: What would Elvis do?

 

The View from Above

The Year in Review: A New Year Ahead. Observations, Predictions.

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 28, 2011 by สะพานลอย

What a sordid year it was. As we get ready to ring in the new year, Thai style with a bottle of lukewarm Singha, let’s recall some major low-lights from the year past, and look ahead to what the new year holds in store. The past year witnessed some atrocities, as usual, in the Thai redlight blogosphere. Very few gems were to be found in the roughage that comprises the palsied prose and tortured syntax of the blog-heads. In addition, we have seen that some scribblers have decided to bow out of the online scene altogether. A few comments follow. Parental discretion is advised.

Stickman Bangkok

Let’s start with the biggest and the brightest of the online luminaries, Stickman Bangkok. After teasing his audience throughout the year with hand-wringing and indecision regarding his future, he has decided, not surprisingly, to stay put in the red-light districts of Thailand, which have come to define him. His photography has devolved, and his favourite subjects still seem to be poor children and bargirls. While he unashamedly takes cold (hard) ladyboy cash, and the filthy lucre of brothels as advertising revenue, he still insists that he doesn’t partake, and that he is stupefied by changes in the country. Saphan Loy believes this is the most interesting part of his website, though he doesn’t intend it as such. He is constantly flummoxed by Thailand’s changing demographics and the demographics of the sex tourist population in general. What does the new year hold in store for the poster boy of sex tourism himself? Likely, he will find himself stuck in Thailand, a “lifer”, ping-ponging from bar to bar like some character in a Greek tragedy. Always tantalized by the offerings, but never partaking, we predict he will end up much like Dean Barrett.

One day in the new year, he will break down, step into Bar Bar or Demonia, and be offered a sound lashing from a Thai rice farmer’s daughter who will then insert an uncomfortably large sex toy into his rectum while he barks like a soi dog. Stickman will consent enthusiastically, and find it so pleasurable that he will dedicate himself to BDSM for the remainder of his natural life, never sitting comfortably again. From there, he will slip down the slippery slope and avail himself of the services of a small group of ladyboy escorts, who will treat him like a schoolgirl in the comfort of his Bangkok highrise.

Big Baby Kenny Ng

This year marked the departure from the serious blogosphere of Professor Big Baby Kenny Ng out in California. He has clearly given up the ghost, allowing the only active thread to be overwritten by the criminally insane. His brand of lunacy will be turned off in the new year, and he will likely be joining the swelling ranks of American unemployed academics, scratching out a living by tutoring semi-retarded children. But not to fear. There are plenty of openings at TEFL International, and perhaps the clown-in-chief there can teach him a thing or two about the Thais.

As of this writing, however, it appears the Ng has just published another word-fart about a cheap buffet in Bangkok. He is clearly celebrating his holiday in Bangkok, courtesy of the moronic California taxpayer, who is so immobilized by political correctness that he (or she) cannot stand up in the face of basic humanitarian atrocities.

The Chinese love all you can eat buffets. They pile their plates full of crappy fried food and rejoice in the low cost of eating it, then pass it through their intestines, then clog up the plumbing, much to the horror of the chambermaids at the cheap flophouse he calls home in the city of angels. Saphan Loy predicts that Ng’s cheap Bangkok buffets will soon turn into long lines at his local soup kitchen.

Big Baby Kenny will soon join the long lines at the soup kitchen.

Mobithailand

Our friend Mobi has been busy and, mercifully, staying sober. He has interestingly decided to post photos of his paramour, Noo, who is quite lovely indeed. We wish Mobi the best in the new year. He has been one of the few stalwarts among the blog-heads, always posting honestly and without artifice. Mobi consistently proves that a dotage spent in Thailand can be tempting, relaxing, and enjoyable all at the same time. We hope he avoids temptation of the spiritual kind, and continues to post about the darkside and all the darkies that can be found there.

The Redlight Scribblers (and Painter)

Stephen Blather et al., including the abominable Chris Coles, will likely continue to type unreadable prose, and render unspeakably offensive arts and crafts that assault the senses (unless those senses happen to be dulled by the local lager and barbiturates.) Look for hefty additions to the pulp-making machine, or network-clogging “e-books” that appeal to the inpatients at your local veteran’s home. Also in the coming new year, perhaps Coles will finally sell a neon bargirl to the half-blind, or the blind-drunk, who would like a painting to install above the commode. Or, better yet, perhaps the new year will inspire Coles to retire from his paint-making efforts, hang up his smock, and, instead, take up semi-permanent residence on a barstool on Patpong, administered to by a snaggle-toothed ladyboy.

Jimmy Smithers

So, what of that lady(boy’s) man, Jimmy Smithers? He has exciting plans for the new year. He is currently in negotiations with a major motion picture studio for the rights to his personal stories. He also has a new line of merchandise planned, including coffee mugs, tee-shirts and insulated beer holders. He is hard at work on his e-book, and is scanning his local classified sections for shemales, transvestites and ladyboys. Because he was recently fired, it is unlikely that a Bangkok trip is in the cards for the new year. Look for further depravity to escape from his keyboard, prolonged struggles with alcohol and sinus medication, and lurid accounts of his masturbation habits. He may even develop adult-onset diabetes, or have what he calls a “crap-attack” at an inopportune moment (like a job interview.) We predict great things for Jimmy Smithers. He’s one to keep your eye on. You know, by covering your other eye with your hand when the room is spinning, or you can’t navigate the Bangkok sidewalks after consuming too much Mekong Whiskey.

At any rate, Saphan Loy wishes you the best of the holidays, and a happy new year. As long as sex tourists are willing to jot down their half-formed ideas, their tawdry hopes and dreams, and their sinful encounters with third world prostitutes, we will be there. And despite all our plights and gripes, we still give them credit for trying. After all, an internet absent of their presence would be a boring place indeed.

The View from Above

Dean Barrett’s Retirement: Whips, Chains, and a Spanking

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 10, 2011 by สะพานลอย

Stick reported last week that Dean Barrett, Saphan Loy’s favourite pulp fiction typist, has retired to a life of kinky abandon in Thailand where he has retreated to Demonia and Bar Bar for regular spankings and assorted torturous pleasures. And foot fetish nights. We find it hard to fathom: I mean, when he sits down to read his latest copy of AARP magazine, is his ass sore from the bullock-whip? For Saphan Loy’s international readers, the AARP is the American Association of Retired Persons, and they send a nice magazine every month to remind you that you are now an old man with erectile dysfunction. It therefore provides lots of editorial space to advertise Viagra products. These ads show men driving old convertibles, wind whipping through their toupees, a sated old bag seated next to them with a big toothy grin on her dentures. These kinds of ads are coy. Why don’t they simply show a rock hard erection thrusting pneumatic-like into a gaping Asian gash in some hell hole of the developing world? In fact, were it not for the advertising support of Viagra, it is likely that the AARP magazine would quietly fold, its elderly staff of crestfallen writers and editors given pink slips. It would become a dusty relic of nostalgia. Much like Dean Barrett’s output of bar fables.

Betty White and Dean Barrett: Perfect Together

A coy Viagra advertisement

One of the things possible, we suppose, is that you can now apply for, as Mr. Barrett has done, a “Non-Immigrant, Submissive Retiree/Pensioner” visa. That helps Thai immigration suss things out a bit easier. Perhaps the ladies at Demonia can facilitate this? And perhaps, just perhaps, Dean Barrett’s contemporaries, like Stephen Blather, might follow his example, and go gently into that good night, and take their lickings like real men:  at the feet of coconut farmers’ daughters.

Dean Barrett

So what? Okay, maybe we are too hard on the old man. Who wouldn’t want to be lashed to a rubber tree and assaulted by several barefoot Malay/Thai girls run amok? I know Jimmy Smithers would be first in line for that treatment. In fact, and here Saphan Loy is admittedly being indiscreet, Smithers confided in me that one of his many nasty fantasies involves the jungle, a rounded bamboo pole, interrogation, and VC ladyboys. But we are friends, and for all those who write to him to sign his glossy 8 X 10, he thanks you for all the kind attention. And yes, he really is going to be in motion pictures, specifically a tawdry little tale that just wrapped shooting in Chiang Rai called “Luck Be a Ladyboy.” But you didn’t hear it from the Loy.

The View from Above

Saphan Loy’s Cocktail Party Etiquette

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 23, 2011 by สะพานลอย

Circulating, as Saphan Loy does from time to time, among the elites, defined here as urbane, sophisticated, and worldly, we occasionally find ourselves in an awkward position. To profess an interest in Thailand or even Asia for that matter is inviting the kind of curiosity that is not easily dispelled by an avowed affinity for the temples, the culture, the spicy food, the weather, the blah blah blah. It is fairly rare, therefore, that we mention it at all. Spying a young woman across the room, for example, and desiring to make her acquaintance, it is not possible to discreetly sidle up to her and ask, “Have you ever made use of a fucksaw before?” Or, “How much would you pay to bar fine a ladyboy?” Or, my personal favourite, “Have I told you about the time I needed an intravenous injection of antibiotics in Pattaya?”

Usually, such conversations would appall the various people that Saphan Loy, because of his prestigious and cosmopolitan connections, encounters on a daily basis. So, more often than not, we remain silent about our reading and writing diet. It makes for an easier evening. It is much simpler, say, to merely imagine a woman at the cocktail party making enthusiastic use of a fucksaw, or envisioning her husband on a barstool in Pattaya beguiled by a passable ladyboy.

This partly explains why for many men, the temptation is too great to simply abandon one’s country of origin in favor of a like-minded social milieu in which such frank discussions no longer are out-of-place, or out of line. Congregating in the bars and online fora that are dedicated to sex tourism in Asia, these colourful, sometimes dangerous characters reenact a kind of verbal horseplay that is redolent of adolescent lust and obsession which can also turn to hatred, envy and villainy. A casual perusal of the Thai nightlife fora will reveal the lengths men go to in order to display prowess and success. The colourful avatars, the ranking systems, the various levels of posting rights all attest to this.

Which brings us to the outward symptoms of the Thai fetish. This is a variant of the Asian fetish, obviously, with some critical differences. First, someone who suffers from a Thai fetish is also intimately addicted to certain and outdated concepts of third world sex relations. There is a clear typecast of sex tourist that emerges. They tend to look the same, dress the same, and speak the same language.

For example, Dean Barrett, one of the foremost apologists of Thai brothel and prostitute consumers, has two such locations to fetishize: China and Thailand. Further, he has written of his enjoyment of bondage and dubious kinky sex acts with Asian dominatrices, women whom he pays to crossdress and whip him into submission. It is clear that the simple fulfillment of the first fetish led, as a result of, say, boredom or having run out of more traditional choices, directly to the second one. Also implicit in the arrangement is the supposed reversal of power and role: the dominated woman (the Thai bargirl) becomes the dominant, exotic Mistress (after receiving adequate payment, though substantially less than one might receive for similar services in the West.)

You, handsum man, bad man jing jing. jai rai! You be dog my.” 

BDSM in Thailand is a curious thing. In a country that still has a systematised endemic form of slavery, the sex play that constitutes slavery is a fairly recent option on the Thai menu of sex services, no doubt expedited by Western desires. It represents the third world outsourcing of developed world fantasies. I wonder what the statistics would reveal about this subject in Thailand itself? Is this a viable form of sex play? Are there exclusively Thai dungeons in Bangkok? Are the whips, instruments and furniture evocative of the Marquis de Sade, or a simpler rice farmer beating his water buffalo with a bamboo switch? Insofar as it is part of the human sexual imagination, such slavery and discipline scenarios likely exist among the Thai middle and upper classes. Hard to say for sure, though. What is sure is that the overwhelming majority of Western writers and bloggers about Thailand’s red-light districts link directly to the fetish clubs in Bangkok (there are two well-known public locations, and at least one private club).  

Whatever the case, Saphan Loy will certainly bring the matter up at the next cocktail party. 

The View from Above