From: an409775@anon.penet.fi (Stroker Ace)
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories
Date: Thu, 30 May 1996 21:59:05 UTC
Subject: NEW - Miss Congeniality, M & f, dom & submission story 1/5
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
CONTAINS FORCED SEX, AND VIOLENCE.
This story may be distributed electronically
provided it is complete, unaltered and with this
statement intact. The author maintains all rights to
this story.
(c) 1996, Stroker Ace
'Miss Congeniality' is entirely a work of fiction.
Miss Congeniality by Stroker Ace.
Part 1/5
"And then she asked, Have you ever betrayed another?"
Miss Congeniality - Chapter 1, Casa Verde
The tourist tend to stay around Barbara beach enjoying
the warm Caribbean waters and the cool of the restaurant in
the Princess Beach hotel. The more adventurous may brave the
local roads and venture as far as Knip bay. There the
pavement ends. They stop to enjoy the beach or to buy fruit
from one of the Venezuelan boats, before turning around for
the long drive back to Willemstad. Only the natives or
those chasing some dark desire, continue up the dirt road
barely wide enough for a Suzuki. The Suziki's are without
air conditioning, but they are the only thing on the island
that can get up the steep hills. At the crest you will
pause at the summit and admire the Caribbean stretching out
as far as your eyes can see. Some say that the haze on the
horizon is Venezuela. Below, nestled between the cliffs is
a little bay and the fishing village of West Punt. A few
run down shacks and unpainted buildings make up the village.
Fishing boats dot one side of the bay while sleek pencil
thin race boats and luxurious cabin cruisers with their
large tuna towers and revolving radar, ride on the evening
tide. That is Casa Verde. The natives call it a hotel but
in the States it would be just another motel. Nothing
special about it except perhaps, for being unusually well
kept for this part of the Caribbean.
Hal sat at the small desk glancing at the invoice for
that fine brew from Holland, Christoffel Blond. He signed
the order and looked up as Braldt the bar manager hurried
in.
"Sorry to bother you boss, but this gent, insisted on
seeing the owner. He thinks we have a private lounge".
Braldt, a thin man with a perpetual smile which made him
quite a ladies man, stood blocking the door. Over his
shoulder peered a chubby round face.
"Listen Yank, I heard you got a whore house back there.
I could use a pretty little frauline. Don't worry, I got
money." The speaker was a heavy German, his face red from
the tropical sun. He waved the check above his head.
"You must be mistaken, my friend." Hal got up, and took
the check from the sunburned man. "Your cash is good at the
bar." He tore the check, letting the pieces fall to the
floor. He walked past the two men and nodded to the
bouncer. It was a typical Friday night. The lounge was
filled with locals, drinking beer and laughing. The
schemers sat in twos and threes occasionally leaning forward
to whisper details of the next smuggling run or luggage
theft from the airport in Willemstad. Those on the run are
the loudest, drinking and singing and flirting with the
girls. They run from the IRS or a mad business partner or
one of the thousands of other reasons why you find yourself
drinking Christoffel Blond in the remotest hideaway in
Curacao. They are desperate to convince themselves that they
are better off hiding on the very edge of the Caribbean.
The drummer nods toward the bar, not missing a beat.
The groups from the deep sea fishing boats have pulled their
tables together. They are eagerly getting their women
drunk. They stamp their feet as one of the girls shakes her
chest to the beat. Her hands are outstretched, dress straps
have fallen, but somehow the dress manages to stay up.
A high pitched giggle comes from the bar. The
bartender has bottles of vodka and bourbon in one hand and
Jamaican rum in the other. A breathtaking blonde is perched
on the stool, her head thrown back over the bar. Her hair
spills over the bar in swirls of delicate curls. Her legs
are splayed slightly, the flowered dress riding too high for
modesty. She reaches behind her head and pulls a stray
strand of hair from her eyes. Again she laughs, a
delightful, little girl giggle and opens her mouth wide.
"Do me again!" The bartender pours equal shots in her
mouth, giving her his favorite, a Screaming Orgasm. She
swallows furiously but is laughing too hard, some spills from
the corner of full red lips, dripping on her breast. Her
coordination is off. Instead of brushing it off, she
jiggles her tits. Her nipples poke at the thin fabric.
"You better pull that dress down a little, or you may
catch a cold," Hal jokes, thinking of the skirt. The girl
looks at him with smiling eyes. She bites her lower lip and
flashes small but still blossoming tits. "Is that low
enough?"
"I think you have had enough. What is your name? Are
you even old enough to drink?"
"Adele. Eighteen, no twenty one."
"I haven't seen you around here before. Are you with
one of the fishing parties?" Hal asked while looking at
the bartender.
"She is with the `Pasha'," the bartender said referring
to the elegant 14 meter schooner in the harbor.
"Where are your friends?" Hal asked.
"Jonathan is back there," she pointed to a door behind
the bouncers table.
"He may be there a while. We better get you to bed."
Adele laughed again at that. "Braldt, see that she
gets aboard the `Pasha' safely."
"Yes boss."
"And come right back."
"Aww, boss..."
"You can't send me away. I have to wait here.
Jonathan told me to stay here. He didn't want me to go back
there."
"It will be OK, Adele. I will talk with him."
"No you don't understand. When he tells me to stay he
means it. If I move or even go the little girls room, he
will be mad. It will be bad for me."
"This time he will understand. Braldt see that she
gets to bed."
+++
The private lounge opened to a patio around a lighted
pool. Beyond, waves could be heard gently lapping on the
shore. It was a refuge from civilization and reason, a
place where craziness is allowed for people to regain their
sanity. For some it is too much, pushing them over the
edge.
Hal motioned for Valeria. She hurried over a tray of
drinks on an upturned palm, her breasts swinging free,
wearing a tiny gold triangle over her sex, white silk thigh
highs, and pristine white heels. "The `Pasha'? Over there
by the pool. Party of 11, drinking Tight Snatches like they
are going out of style. I just served them a two pussy
salad."
On the stone patio, the group sat laughing ad drinking.
The men wearing fluffy white dress shirts, the women sleek
dresses, each offering their charms in a different but
equally delightful way. Over a linen table cloth two young
girls were arranged side by side, a head at each end of the
table. Their only clothing was the food that covered their
bodies. A selection of prepared fruits, pastas, salads all
artfully arranged were held in little islands by swirls of
whipped cream over clear plastic dividers. Sauces and
juices pooled around their bodies. Their legs were spread
to reveal a vagina stuffed with cherries on one, caviar in
the other, both residing on sterling silver mirrored trays.
Each limb was tied to the serving board, the restraints more
decorative than functional. Tiny posts in the serving
board gave the girls something to clutch in their hands.
They needed that to offset straining stomach muscles sucked
in to form a bowl for the dressing. In their mouths they
held custom fitted cups of dip. Laughing and joking the men
reached over to spoon pussy stuffing to their ladies.
Another guides his woman's head to the honey coated leg of
the young dish.
"Is everything satisfactory?" Hal asked his guests.
A distinguished man looks up, his spoon dripping
strawberries and cream lifted from between pink nipples. The
cream begins to leak under the plastic divider. It flows
over her, mixing with the cherries at her side. Each tiny
breath send little ripples mixing the white and red until it
is a perfect pussy pink. "Hal! This is my buddy and owner
of this fine decadence."
The waitress, Valeria returned to re-stuff one of the
girls with Russian caviar. Hal, leans beside the man,
"Jonathan, I sent Adele back to the ship. She was wasted.
If I hear that she was disciplined because of this, you will
never be allowed back. Now enjoy yourself. When you are
finished, untie the girls and they will lick you or your
ladies clean."
1/5
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
CONTAINS FORCED SEX, AND VIOLENCE.
This story may be distributed electronically
provided it is complete, unaltered and with this
statement intact. The author maintains all rights to
this story.
(c) 1996, Stroker Ace
'Miss Congeniality' is entirely a work of fiction.
Miss Congeniality by Stroker Ace.
Part 2/5
Miss Congeniality - Chapter 2, Lady in Waiting
From the pool you could not tell. She was just a
beautiful woman, slightly over dressed, sitting alone at one
of the best tables by the stage. She looked up as Hal
approached, eager for the attention of a male.
"Thanks for coming over. Valeria and the other staff
are nice to me, but you don't know how weird a girl feels
without hearing a man's voice, not to mention his touch," she
smiled genuinely happy to see him.
"I am sorry, but you know the rules, Monica. Are the
girls taking care of you?" She sat on an elaborately carved
chair, the kind that seams perfectly suited for women. The
back rest, thin at her waist curved outwards to frame her
bare shoulders.
"Yes, but I could use another Collins. It is hard work
being decoration for the guests," she laughed.
Monica had kicked off expensive black pumps with large
clunky heels. Sterling sliver adorned both ankles, a
glistening diamond bracelet on the right. On the left, a
thin band chained to a bolt set in the floor. A kept woman.
Hal motioned across the room to Valeria to bring a drink but
the waitress shook her head. "Sorry, Valeria says that you
have had enough. I will get you some water, you are going
to need it.
"Why? You have heard something haven't you? You must
tell me. Please."
Hal sat across from the girl. For a moment he studied
the beautiful face bathed in candle light. Natural blonde
hair fell to her shoulders with the slightest of waves. Her
eyes large and white with silvery gray pupils that followed
his every expression. Her skin radiant at middle age,
unblemished over classical features. The dress teased with
a glimpse of cleavage that shifted with her every move. She
should have been posing for an artist, rather than locked in
chains. All women should look this good, Hal thought. "I
received a fax, today."
She was silent. A bus boy placed a glass of imported
water in front of her.
"He wants you tied out on the beach tomorrow. Naked
where everyone can watch." Hal placed a crumpled piece of
paper on the table. A stick figure was sketched beside
handwriting. Each limb stuck straight out, as if done by a
child. The word tight was written beside the picture and
underlined.
"I guess it is better to know in advance." Her hand
shook as she raised the glass. For a long moment there was
silence as she looked at the rippling water before carefully
placing it on the table. "Why, why? The sun will.... I will
be burned so badly that I will not be able to walk for
weeks. Do you know what it is like to be chained to a cot
for weeks. With this damned device," she motioned to the
chastity belt that he knew was under the dress, "I can't
even touch myself. Can you imagine? Prevented from
touching yourself! Not to play, but to just to touch my own
body. Why, why?" she asked again.
"You know why," Hal answered. She needed to hear a
man's voice so he told her the story again. "You betrayed
him. When you met at graduate school, he fell head over
heels for you. He told me of those days in the 2 room
apartment, living off canned food, classes during the day,
working at night, having sex at 2 in the morning, he loved
you then. Then his business took off. He made a fortune.
You moved to the coast. A beautiful new mansion on the
beach. He took you around the world, parties in Paris,
safari's in Africa, decadent shopping trips to the Orient.
Why did you do it? He was so in love with you that he
noticed everything about you. He sensed the change. He
ignored it for the longest while. Eventually he just had to
know. He turned the surveillance cameras around to look
into his own property. That is how he got the tape of that
guy eating you out in a lounge chair. He was going to
divorce you but you wanted half of everything. Everything
that he worked so hard to build. He tried separation but
you began to whore around. He just couldn't bear to hear
about it from his friends. So he put you up at the Casa
Verde."
"You are my jailer."
"You have to admit, you are a well treated prisoner.
He pays for your excellent meals, medical care to get you
back into shape. Those expensive clothes are all bought by
him as well as your private room. He can be very generous.
Remember I have been directed to personally drive you into
Willemstad whenever you are ready to sign divorce papers."
"And get nothing for all that I have been through. He
would like that."
"It is your decision."
"When is he coming to visit or should I ask when is he
coming to screw me?"
"He didn't say. His yacht will just appear one day."
"And he will strap me to that, that contraption and
show me off to his latest bimbo. Then they will do whatever
he wants with me, for as long as he wants. After I am
completely wasted, he will sail off and leave me chained
again to my cot."
"He says your skin is resilient to the whip. That your
body is built for abuse."
"I don't like the abuse. I am not that type of girl."
"All you have to do is drive into Willemstad with me."
"He would like that. He won't break me. Not yet
anyway."
"I will put you where a palm tree will give you a half
hour of shade during the hottest part of the day. That is
the best I can do for you, Monica. Drink your water, you
will need it tomorrow."
2/5
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
CONTAINS FORCED SEX, AND VIOLENCE.
This story may be distributed electronically
provided it is complete, unaltered and with this
statement intact. The author maintains all rights to
this story.
(c) 1996, Stroker Ace
'Miss Congeniality' is entirely a work of fiction.
Miss Congeniality by Stroker Ace.
Part 3/5
Miss Congeniality - Chapter 3, To Rio
"Excuse me Mr. Hal," it was Braldt rushing back from
the front room. "A Mr. and Mrs. Crane have arrived. They
are not regulars, I can't find them in the guest book. They
say that you approved them for the back room. The guy is a
real asshole. He started to shout when I told him that I
would have to check the reservation."
"He radioed me from the airport, this morning. Said he
was on his honeymoon. Said he heard about Casa Verde from
Akimin. I have left a message for Mr. Akimin to call me."
"I will make up an excuse to turn them away," Braldt
said.
"No, go ahead and give them a table. In the back
room," Hal said over the younger man's objections.
"But boss, that is against your own rules."
"I know. I have a feeling... Give them the back room."
Braldt led the young couple to the table farthest from
the stage. The lovers walked as one, the woman clutching
her lover's arm against her shapely bosom. He wore lime
green shorts over flabby pale legs with an oversized
flowered shirt. Her face bloomed, a fertile young woman
gushing with mature sexuality. The woman looked only at him,
her face turned upward relying on his arm to guide her
through the maze of tables. Her husband's gaudy outfit
clashed with everything, especially his lover's fashionable
clothes. A delicate eggshell, tailored and trim, the linen
jacket falling open, the gentle swell of her breasts, creamy
white, teasing the folds never quite opening far enough or
deep enough. Her skirt from waist to hem could be covered
by two hands, making her every step an exciting tease as the
room watched. Hal would have asked her to loose the white
sandals and heavy heels. Classical heels on those long
shapely legs would be exquisite.
The man's head jerked back and forth, trying to see
everything. "Dana! Do you see that, they are eating a naked
girl!" He whistled, reaching over to pluck a strawberry from
the human salad. The table from the Pasha stared up at him
in shocked surprise.
Hal went over as they were being seated. "Welcome to
the Casa Verde's backside."
"Yeah, yeah. This is a lamer table. I want to be
closer to the stage," the man replied.
"We have a very special stage show tonight. Believe
me, you will be quite satisfied with this table," Hal lied.
They exchanged introductions. Newlyweds, Joel and Dana
Crane out of Hope Point. She smiled at the mention of her
new name. Joel was an assistant bank manager, Dana soon to
be a corporate lawyer. They had dated for a year. This was
their first full day as husband and wife, she added. He
explained how they considered Hawaii, Club Med. and Hedonism
but were looking for something different. They came to the
right place. Joel had noticed that one of banks most
mysterious clients, a Mr. Akimin, spent considerable time
and money at Casa Verde. He copied the information without
permission and was totally surprised when he was accepted.
While Joel rattled on, Hal unabashedly studied the
quiet woman. At first she tried to avoid his gaze. Her
beauty was a natural and earthly, a woman made to be with a
man. A tiny blemish on one cheek, a sprinkling of freckles
at the base of her neck. Blue veins were visible under the
creamy white skin of her neck. Nervously she played with a
strand of golden brown hair. Joel continued talking about
himself. She built up her nerve to meet his gaze. Her face
was lean with chiseled features. Large eyes, the lightest
brown he had ever seen. Her eyes held his for a long
moment, then fell to study her hands.
He took her hand in his. Her nails were short, painted
a deep ocean coral, her fingers stiff and tense in his palm.
Hal stroked the back of her outstretched hand. He examined
her palm, feeling her fingers open slightly at his touch.
Her skin was soft, but not fleshy, on her fingertips a sheen
of perspiration, like after making love in the afternoon.
He spread her fingers farther apart, only to have them snap
shut. He tried to turn the palm over, slowly adding more
and more force until overpowering her. Her palm sprung back
as soon as he relaxed. She snapped her hand away, folding
it protectively over her bosom. That is when he felt it
growing deep inside. More than he had ever felt. It may
have been there growing inside him, festering in the
tropical insanity of Casa Verde's back room, waiting,
getting stronger all the time, until it could no longer be
denied. Now it spilt over, washing over him in waves until
he had to succumb to the desire. The desire to have this
woman. Not only to have her body moaning under his but to
have her breast under his hand at any time, to feel her
wetness when he holds out a finger, to have her lay down
spreading her legs at his glance. He looked again at her
face. The face of a woman not far from middle age,
attractive but not a bimbo beauty queen. He thought of the
prettier women that had visited, younger women, girls that
relied entirely on their beauty, even those that would trade
their pride for the comfort of Casa Verde. But he wanted
newlywed Dana Crane.
Dana shook the hair from her eyes. Eyes that darkened
as he watched. She pulled the jacket close and folded her
arms over her breast.
"Excuse me Joel, but I have to be going," Hal
interrupted. "The dancers want me to take them out for a
midnight cruise. Its just a friendly girl on girl thing.
The shows get the girls pretty hot and this gives them a
chance to relax, if you know what I mean," Hal winked.
"Perhaps you would like to join us? Oh, I am sorry. That
is a bad idea. The boat only has room for one more, and you
will want to be with your lovely bride."
Hal graciously offered the hospitality of Casa Verde at
no expense while her husband went on the cruise. A promise
to have him back in an hour and Joel accepted. Dana was in
her room when Hal returned accompanied by a stern looking
lady in a nurse's uniform. Hal introduced the nurse, Catrin.
Immediately, Dana sensed bad news and allowed the unsmiling
nurse to lead her to a chair. There was a flurry of
activity and she found her arms strapped to the armrests and
Catrin working a dark leather bit between her teeth.
"In a little while, Dana, that clueless twit of a
husband will be in Buenos Aires, without money, passport or
identification. By then Joel will have slept off the
Roofies and have acquired a long history with Interpol. Don't
worry, a cute, boy like him can survive, if he is willing to
supply what the market demands. Joel is a bank manager, he
understands market forces well enough."
"Your situation will not be quite so melodramatic,
Dana. See, I have taken this rather unexpected liking to
you. With no disrespect or anything, you are not the most
beautiful girl to grace this hideaway, nor are you the
youngest, but you do have a ..." Hal found himself
searching for the right word. Catrin, finished securing the
leather gag to look at Hal. "A certain demeanor, a presence
that I want as my personal servant. You are an intelligent
woman, are you not? That's right, nod your head. I am
going to give you a chance to use that pretty little head of
yours to save yourself a lot of discomfort. Would you like
that opportunity, Dana? Good girl. What I am going to do,
Dana, is give you freedom. You in return you will work full
time at being my plaything. I will not be telling you what
to do all the time, you will have to be creative. Have you
ever been whipped Dana? I mean stripped naked, tied open
between two posts and whipped from head to foot and then
have the whip given to someone else so they can have a piece
of you."
Hal tugged at the jackets lapels exposing wonderful
creamy white breasts cupped in a lace coral pink bra. "Of
course you haven't. It will be my pleasure to take your
cherry, Dana and stripe those lovely virgin tits." Hal
walked around the sturdy wooden chair. "You are so
vulnerable, Dana, there are so many things that can be done
to you."
"Mein Herr, ich koennte sie veranlassen, alles zu tun,
was Sie wuenschen."
"Catrin, in English please, aber mein Deutch ist nicht
sehr gut." Hal replied.
"Oh ja, fein!, I could make her do anything you want,"
the nurse said, her blue eyes beaming. Catrin lifted Dana's
left breast from the bra. The nipple rose in erection
between the nurse's skilled fingers as her chest flushed
cherry red in embarrassment.
"Mein Herr, her cunt smells like flowers."
"It must be perfume or feminine spray, it is her
honeymoon." Hal rested a hand on Catrin's shoulder, guiding
the nurse from the crying woman. "I don't want to punish
but if you do not show progress, I will have no choice," Hal
explained.
"The better you perform your duties, the better your
treatment will be. I am going to leave you strapped in that
wood chair for 24 hours to give you time to think it over.
Nurse Catrin will look in on you from time to time, but
there will be no food or bathroom breaks, so get used to it.
Good night Dana."
3/5
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
CONTAINS FORCED SEX, AND VIOLENCE.
This story may be distributed electronically
provided it is complete, unaltered and with this
statement intact. The author maintains all rights to
this story.
(c) 1996, Stroker Ace
'Miss Congeniality' is entirely a work of fiction.
Miss Congeniality by Stroker Ace.
Part 4/5
Miss Congeniality - Chapter 4, Beach Party
The winter season is the busiest time in Curacao. The
cold weather brings rich North Americanos and old money from
Europe. The laid back island becomes overrun with tourists,
but few venture back into the mountains of West Punt. A
specialty club such as Casa Verde does not advertise. It
relies on favorable comments from the decadently rich. They
pass the word while skiing in Switzerland or sipping a rum
`Tight Snatch' under a tiki hut by a lagoon shaped pool.
The `word' may be in different languages but is always the
same, "Hal Wallace runs a nice place in Curacao. They treat
you like a king there, anything you want, anything at all."
And then whispered to the gentleman over drinks, so the
ladies can not hear, "You can do anything you want to your
woman there. Take your mistress, or buy one, but bring your
own, he doesn't supply the girl."
Tonight, the little harbor at West Punt is full of
expensive boats. A steel drum band is beating out a
rhythmic, native beat. It soon penetrates the soul with long
repressed desires. Primitive, primal desires reverberating
with every beat of the drum. Tonight Casa Verde's beach is
bustling with men and women. Mesquite blazes in a roaring
bonfire at one end. In the flickering circle of light a
nude couple frolics in the surf. A large buffet has been set
up at this end of the beach surrounded by guests wrapped in
sheets. Their improvised togas fall open on the men and
women alike. The men are mostly heavy and older. All are
rich. Filthy, decadent, rich. Their women are somehow very
similar. All stunning beauties with the common look that
befalls a kept woman. Pampered with jewelry, and expensive
clothes, treated with luxuries from travels around the
world, they radiate beauty and sex. Yet they do not control
their own bodies. They are in constant fear of gaining
weight or of even wandering too far from their man's side.
Some wear tattoos of barbed wire around arms or ankles.
Others are careful to keep the toga over fresh bruises. The
women laugh and giggle nursing a glass of champagne, never
hesitating when their man stops to kiss another, or to slide
a hand sticky with barbecue into a girls toga. Never pausing
when a hand invades her own toga, her toes turn outward,
then she pivots on her toes as she was taught, her legs
spreading as the barbecued drumstick is shoved upwards
repeatedly until it finds the hole. She smiles as her mind
races through her training...'how long before I can
discretely grunt it out, like delivering a baby. He never
mentioned barbecue in training...'
Lovely in the moonlight, Dana stands, flanked by palm
trees. The trees rustle in the island breeze. Far above, a
cluster of coconuts hangs. She wonders what is the chance
of one of them falling to put an end to her misery. The
waiting is torture enough, for she has no idea what to
expect. She was given cute flowered lace panties to wear
and a matching demi bra, all lace and flowery. A white
shirt is tied above her navel with a astoundingly short
denim skirt. A tourist on vacation, looking for a little
action, perhaps a night of love on the beach, she thinks.
Only the heavy chain, padlocked to her neck and tree, spoils
the vision.
She exchanges a look and half hearted smile with
Monica. It is meant to reassure both but it is too late for
that, for drum beats faster, louder, demanding. The
laughter stops and all gather around Hal. They toast,
throwing their glasses to shatter on a rock. Loud and
boisterous they march down the beach towards the two girls.
"Pussy. We want the pussy," they chant in every deviation.
Monica moves first, but Dana understands her primitive need
immediately. The two women with hands chained at their
backs, stand face to face, their faces pressed together.
Trembling together, they feel each others fear. A last
press, breast against breast and Monica is pulled away. She
screams but no one seems to mind.
Tethered by her neck she is pulled to the center.
Likes dogs the pack descends upon her. With their bare
hands they tear at her clothing. Most are drunk to one
degree or the other. The men and women snatch at the
frightened girl, shoving her around in a tight circle. Her
blouse quickly gives away, but the bra and skirt are
stronger. No one tries to unhook it, the many hands just
grab and pull. The circle of frenzied hands gets tighter
and tighter until they have closed on her. She has fallen
but they dangle her by her bra until it finally gives way.
With her finally nude, the circle of guests with erections
probing from the folds and breasts swaying freely in lose
togas, expands leaving Monica nude and panting in the sand.
Bradlt unwraps a long gray object from a towel. He
passes it amongst the guests as Monica trembles at their
feet. It is almost a meter long, tapering to a thin wisp at
one end. One girl in the crowd is especially curious. "Its
not very flexible, is it," she asks. "It feels like
sandpaper."
"A stingray's tail," Hal explains to her. "Very
strong with a sharp bite. Would you like to try it?"
"Go ahead. You should know what it is like to be on
the other end," her man answers.
Hal takes her by the hand and helps with the first
stinging blow to Monica's upper thigh. The girl learns
quickly and soon rains a torrent of fast paced stings on
Monica's rolling form. Another girl takes the tail and
lashes out at Monica. She tries to cover but sees that she
is too vulnerable at their feet. She stands, but the blows
still find bare skin. There is nowhere to hide. The lashes
come in groups as the tail is passed around. Each lash
brings a scream of anguish from Monica. She dances from
foot to foot, trying to miss the heaviest of the blows. The
girls are the worst they aim for her stomach or breasts.
The men are more predictable, they tend to aim for her pussy
but she can usually raise a leg in time.
Dana, can only step back and forth at the limits of her
chain. She watches Monica suffering at every blow, her
breasts and stomach freshly healed from severe sunburn are
now covered in red stripes. The guest dance and laugh to
the beating drums, their togas lie, white on the sand. They
all take turns at the helpless girl in the center. Together
they dance a mating ritual under a Caribbean moon, one
screaming, darting and evading, one threatening and faking
with the tail, one dancing for her survival. Her nipple is
the target this time. A slap, loud and sharp and then her
shrieking cry and then laughter. She jumps to the other
foot, the harsh tail grazes the inside flesh of her thigh,
the target has changed, he wants a leg this time. Behind
the debauchery, the night sky is hot red from mesquite
bonfire. A shape breaks out from the crowd, a dark form
silhouetted by the fire, it heads straight towards Dana.
A woman can feel her vulnerability in the touch of a
man. His purposeful grab at the chain, working the
combination at her neck, her chest, her hair all objects to
be moved, pushed, turned to serve the purpose. Dana can
tell now that her purpose is to serve. His hands dig into
her upper arm leading her to the waters edge. She feels the
pressure of a crowd forming at behind her then turns to face
nude bodies, erect males, the females captive to a fondled
breast or penetrated vagina. A large male standing in front
with folds of fat rolling over his groin, pushes on the neck
of a anorexia thin blonde. She dutifully folds over,
supporting herself with hands on bent knees. Her hair
SIZE LIMIT (48K) EXCEEDED!!!
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
CONTAINS FORCED SEX, AND VIOLENCE.
This story may be distributed electronically
provided it is complete, unaltered and with this
statement intact. The author maintains all rights to
this story.
(c) 1996, Stroker Ace
'Miss Congeniality' is entirely a work of fiction.
Miss Congeniality by Stroker Ace.
Part 5/5
Miss Congeniality - Chapter 5, Black Leather
"I hope they like women," Dana mumbled half aloud. She
paused, framed by the doorway. The club smelled of male
sweat, a bouquet of aromas of men working at being
masculine. The club was garnished in a heavy industrial
decor. Chain link fences made a maze of the dimly lit
floor. Steel pipes ran across ceiling and walls and around
oversized circuit breakers. Steam hissed from pipes and
floor at random intervals, turned a garish colors from
roaming spotlights. Men in black leather shorts and laced-up
boots, walked among the male patrons carrying trays on
upturned palms. A red light found her. It expanded to
encompass Hal at her side then shrunk to focus on her again.
Hal raised her hand over her head, leading her in a slow
spin. In a skintight black cocktail dress and sexy and fuck
me pumps, Dana turned for their inspection. Her pearl
necklace glowed in the light, fiery streaks exploded from
the diamonds on her wrist. The men applauded, stomping
heavy work boots on the floor.
A plump man in a pink long sleeve shirt, tied under
ample breasts, his belly clean shaven wound towards them
with a limp hand extended. "Helloooo, dahlings." Hal took
his offered hand, and raised it to his lips but never quite
kissing it. Oh, Hal you look so, so divine. And it is so
well, so feminine. Oh what fun I could have with a body
like that." His breast jiggled as he turned again to Hal,
asking in a conspiratorial tone, "Is it.... you know...
clean?"
"Yes, she is clean, perfumed, shaven, douched...."
"Oh, dear. Enough already, it makes my skin creepy
just thinking about it." In a high shrill voice,
"Everybody! Oh everybody. This is my dear friend Hal. Give
him a big friendly boys welcome. And, and he brought with
him, the evenings entertainment." To Hal he asked, "what do
you call it?" "Everybody, it is called Daaana. Ohhhh."
A squeaky voice spoke up from a back table, "That is
the last thing we need around here, someone's bitch that
cries and screeches at the slightest touch."
"Listen you pussy envying, fuck ups," Hal retaliated.
"This little bitch can take more than you have ever imagined
in your craziest, fucked-up wet dream." Hal grabbed her
skirt, tearing at the hem in his rage until the seam ripped.
The torn dress hung from her shoulders falling free at her
legs. Hal roughly jerked the black stockings to her heel.
Taking the rose from her hand he gently slid it up her bare
leg, then quickly rammed the stem to the inside of her
thigh. The red flower lay at the entrance to her womb, held
by thorns in her skin. He pulled the thin string of her
underwear to one side. A trail of blood, crimson red, ran
down the untaned white of her leg to the bunched stocking at
her foot. She did not cry.
"Turn off the light," Hal demanded. At first it was
hard to see, but as eyes adjusted to the darkness, a circle
of light appeared on the floor between wildly spread pumps.
It danced over one strapped heel and then the other, forward
and back as she was moved. Hal leaned her backwards. The
high pitched voice laughed first then the whole room joined
in. Dana carried a flashlight in her pussy.
Hal lovingly stroked her cheek with the back of his
hand. He was proud of what she had become. Their eyes meet.
A quiver ran through her body. Dana too was proud. Proud
that she did not cry, proud of pleasing this man that
dominated her new life. Family and friends had grown dim in
her mind. Only the thought of her lover Joel sustained her.
He was resourceful, he would return to save her to free her
from this shame.
Her days were demanding. She found that it took all
her womanly intuition, all her intelligence, all her
awareness to anticipate his desires of her. It took all her
strength to things she hated. It would have be easier if he
barked orders. She would only have to obey, become a
mindless robot serving his perverted desires, dreaming of
freedom, of Joel. But he demanded more, the ultimate, her
mind and body. Bad days were simply not tolerated.
Punishment was swift and uncompromising. When she thought
that she could not go on, that what he wanted was too much,
that no woman could endure, she reminded herself that it was
not as bad as the alternative. The worse was when he was so
ashamed of her that he handed her over to that sadistic
bitch, Catrin.
"Ohhh, dear. Blood makes me queasy. Everybody, be nice
to my friend. It is only a woman but it is also a
submissive. That is why I invited Hal to party with us.
Some of us could afford to learn a thing or two. Now,
dahling, come on. The stage is over here."
The stage was nothing more than steel grating set off
in a corner. An old couch looking like it was stolen from
some condemned apartment and a straight back chair sat in
front of a wall of leather blindfolds, hoods and straps. A
full leather costume was displayed in the shadows.
Pink shirt unhooked the chain at the top of the
costume. Like a zombie, the costume stumbled after
Pinkie's, swaying hips. Someone was completely encased in
the black skin tight suit. The head was completely covered,
zippers prevented sight or hearing. Breathing was labored
through a tube. Metal loops adorned the black leather
providing attachment points for depravities that Dana could
not begin to imagine. Other loops provided hundreds of ways
to secure the hands, but they were simply snapped to the
legs. The chest was flat, but the suit ripped over a flabby
waist.
Pinkie led the poor leather the covered subject to the
chair, locking hands and feet securely. Hal offered the
remnants of Dana's torn dress to his host, but with a
gesture of disgust, Pinkie declined to strip her. Hal
jerked her forward as the remnants of the dress was torn
away. The hot air of the club felt cool to her naked
breast. Hal tossed her damp bra to a nearby table, wanting
to see which of the fags would pick it up.
A good submissive can anticipate her master, but being
pushed to her knees in front of Pinkie took Dana by
surprise. She kneeled with head lowered an inch from his
zipper.
"I am not going to put my pee-pee in that, but I may be
interested in a little ass."
"Wait until after you see her suck cock. She is better
than anyone here," Hal boasted. "Does that one have a
cock?," he asked pointing to the leather clad figure seated
under the hot lights. "Show him what he is missing, bitch."
Dana crawled between his legs. She rubbed his crotch,
feeling his length. It was soft, but grew as she rubbed the
leather.
"Doesn't that feel good?" Pinkie asked. Dana was
gently trace the length of his cock with her fingertips.
"It must. He is getting hard," she added. Pinkie had
opened the flaps at his ears. The leather man was trying to
say something, but the only mumbles escaped between the
heavy breaths. "I can make it feel real good," Dana said, as
she continued to arouse him. "Want to have your cock
sucked? Want to have it in my hot mouth?"
Pinkie fumbled with another zipper, eventually freeing
his entire underside.
His big cock stood straight up, the head purple and
swollen, looking so pathetic sticking up from this leather
encased man. Dana ran the tip of her tongue over its head.
Another zipper was pulled back, leaving tiny slits in
the hood, at his eyes. Leather man gasped hard, and his
hips violently thrusting upwards. Dana could see the surge
inside of him. His balls were hanging heavy, big with the
wad of love. His cock was throbbing, the veins swollen
purple, with the force of the blood pounding in it. It had
to be driving him crazy. "Noonoo," that one sound escaped
his tube.
The audience had gathered around the stage, most with
short hair and black caps.
Dana leaned forward taking his erection in her mouth.
Leather man was thrusting wildly. Her head began to bob up
and down on his swollen dick. Her hands, cupped his balls,
slowly stroking them with her fingers, caressing them, as
they settled in her palm.
Hal too was excited. He pulled her head away and
thrust his erect cock down her throat. Dana took the base
of Hal's dick between her thumb and middle finger, squeezing
him, working his pre-cum up his shaft and into her mouth.
The pre-cum was salty and strong on her tongue, she knew
that he was ready. His hand steadied her head and he let
loose load after load of cum shooting over her face. It
caught her hair, dripped from eyebrows to sting her eyes,
ran is streams down her cheek, slid silvery white across her
lips. The audience cheered.
They cheered again when Pinkie pushed her face onto the
pulsing cock of Leather man. He thrust his hips up off of
the chair, twisting and moaning as if in agony.
Someone yelled "Do his ass!" The cry was picked up and
became a chant. `Do his ass! Do his ass!"
"God yes!," Pinkie added as he watched mesmerized by
the rigid, thrusting cock.
"I want to try some of that," he said pointing to the
sucking girl. "You can take his."
"No way, that's not for me. I prefer girls."
"Try it. You may never go back," Pinkie was busy
pulling the old sofa to the middle of the stage. The
audience again picked up the new chant, "Try him, try him."
"I have a special surprise for you. He is a virgin and
I know you like to turn them out! I found him selling blow
jobs in an alleyway in Rio. Now he is treated well in
exchange for a little entertainment every now and then.
Very congenial, if you ask me."
Pinkie guided a trembling Dana behind the couch,
bending her over its back. Hooking her wrists to the steel
grate floor was the natural thing to do. Dana, shaking in
her anxiety, look up at crowd in front of her, then let her
head fall in disgrace. Pinkie started slow, working one
finger into her asshole. Dana squirmed a bit as he added a
second finger. "Stop it! DON'T!" she yelled, as a third
finger thrust up into her rectum.
Hal raised her head pulling her hair back, so everyone
could see her face. She quivered as the fingers were yanked
from her.
"NO! No, don't! PLEASE!" she yelled. Pinkie thrust
his cock brutally in her ass. Dana, untrained in such cruel
treatment, squirmed at the slightest movement of his cock.
"Dam, this is the softest, sweetest ass, I have ever
had," Pinkie exclaimed. He thrust into her again. Dana
screamed like he expected. Her body strained to break free.
Two guys had positioned Leather man beside the
whimpering Dana. Their arms overlapped, each locked beneath
the others head. The leather suit was folded away exposing
his ass and shriveled cock dangling between his legs. Both
asses hung bare over the couch, side by side.
"AAAAAA!" He mumbled between labored gasps. He knew
what was about to happen. Hal positioned his cock at his
backdoor, pressing softly then ever so slowly pushing harder
and harder until his now rigid cock began to poke through.
Bigger and heavier, flabby instead of delightful softness of
a woman, muscles where a woman was velvety, it was not for
Hal. He went around and unzipped the mouth, quickly ramming
himself in as Leather man gasped for air. His unused rear
was too tempting for one of the audience that skillfully
took control of Leather man's ass, working his tool deep
while Hal probed his mouth.
In pain and humiliation, tied head down, yet arched up
at the neck, Leather man did not have the strength to cry
out. He could barely get enough air around Hal's thrusting
cock. His head was fixed on the woman at his side. Her
head flew in the air with each thrust into her. Her long
hair exploding upwards then falling to hide her face until
the next thrust. The sight of her creamy skin, naked and
vulnerable, , shaking in sexual submission, sweat rolling
down the sides of her heaving breasts was enticing. Hal
exploded in the leather covered head, squirting again and
again against the roof of its mouth. Spent, his cock fell
from the mouth. He quickly removed the hood and pushed the
two heads together.
"Take my cum from this fag's mouth, Dana."
Dana froze. Pinkie exploded into her in orgasmic fury
as Leather man received a load up his ass, but Dana didn't
move. Her lips trembled then began to form words... "Joel,
hhhoo.. honey?"
-Stroker Ace-
Comments welcome
an409775@anon.penet.fi
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