Should you be offended by explicit sexual material, or if you are under age in your local, please read no further. Please leave and avoid both of us embarrassment.

This little tale is a work of fiction. No one in this story is based on anyone in real life. Any apparent references or relationships to real people or events are purely coincidental, and not intentional.

The reader should also recognize that, as everything in this work is fiction, this story is meant for entertainment and amusement. There are many acts described of violence and behavior considered unacceptable by society. No actions are condoned or otherwise sanctioned or encouraged.

Krissie Beavers

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Medi Junior Part Eight - Party Time First Half

Medi selected the College Inn for his second extravaganza. It came, complete with staff, meals and everything a part would need for the weekend. The cost was of little consequence to the heir to a zillion oil wells. Word got around pretty quickly about the beach party he was setting up. Even though the weather had turned, or because the weather had turned, he was going for a setting where everyone was in swim suits.

The part was in one of the large hospitality suites this time. The evening got off to a good start. Plenty of liquor was applied to the guests, mostly white WASP types. There was a sprinkling of blacks and Hispanics, but this party was really for their education and amusement, rather than real participation. The liquor flowed freely and the DJ played particularly sensual music. Some of his guests were gyrating. He had hired a cast to mix in with the shills. The party goers were all clad in swim suites. The guys had everything from bulky trunks down to Speedos which left nothing to the girl’s imaginations. The girls were wearing, or almost wearing, every sort of bikini imaginable. Most of them left nothing to the imagination. As the dancing went on, some couples were grinding against each other. The Speedo crowd showed their interest. And there were plenty of hard nipples poking through thin tops. Partners began to push themselves against each other. At first it was chests barely touching, then stomachs and crotches were touching. Men pressed legs against their companions. For some, women’s legs parted as they grew closer to their partners. The men’s heat responded to and sought out the heat of the women. Hands slid down bare backs and onto thin fabric. Cheeks were caressed lovingly, or strongly gripped. In a fiew cases, fingers succeeded in sliding inside the fabric to the bare skin underneath. In a very few cases, fingers searched for and found the pain hole of their partner. It wasn’t always a male perogative to probe the hole of their dance partner.

Some of the couples slipped out of the hospitality suite. Certain of them headed for the quieter rooms, which often were filled with giggles, sharp intakes of breath, grunting, groaning, and perhaps moaning. It was seldom necessary for the swim suites to come off during the particular act. Afterwards, the air filters would work overtime to remove the musky odors before the next couple made use of the furniture or floor.

Yvette Nelson had been a reluctant attendee at the party. Her boyfriend, Rob, had been iffy about it. He was puzzled by her intensity coupled with a lack of enthusiasm. After they got there, the evening drug on. She knew something bad was going to happen. She knew that Rob was becoming very aroused and that normally excited her. But she was too worried about why she was required to be here. That other night she had admitted all those things to that bastard. She had then had to let him use her all night. When she asked him if that was all, he had laughed and played her confession. He also had a video of the fucking she had done. The only way out was for her to do exactly what he told her to do. Then, and only then, he might let her off the hook.

Lindsey Hilts had not wanted to go see the Arab. She had not wanted to spend the night with him. And she hadn’t wanted to come to the party tonight. She wondered if the other girls had been blackmailed. Because she had set herself up as the model woman, the budding politico, the President of the Young Democrats, she could not afford for the word to get out that she had had, not just one abortion, but several. She had spent the night riding him cowgirl, more times than she had imagined a man could stiffen up. Her boyfriend had been surprised she wanted to go to this party, having heard about a wild one which had happened a couple of months ago. But she had been acting strangely since ‘that night’, so he took her. When ordered to wear this ridiculous leopard bikini with 3” fuck me heels, she had put the outfit on and covered herself with her longest coat. She saw the open lust with which some of the party goers looked at her.

Heather Schneider had been dreading this. Ever since Medi, she was not her own person. Her hit-and-run, buried for five years, destroyed her natural snobbishness. His assaults on her pussy had occurred when he fucked the first time. Love making with her boyfriend was dull and drab in comparison. The hairy Arab had then insisted on one blow job or titty fuck after another. She must have swallowed a gallon of spunk. Later came the trip to his apartment, the day in his bed. She could still remember those orgasms. He had screwed her for the rest of the day, and she had surfed from one orgasm to another. She denied him nothing. Not even the leather bikini and heels. And she knew that the men were looking at her differently because of the leather. She could sense a hunger in there attitudes she had never experienced before.

Krissie could not believe how radically her life had turned as a result of that night. He had been like the Energizer Bunny the number of times he ad fucked her that night. And it would have been a lie to say she had not had some of the most powerful orgasms of her life. She finally met Jerome the next day. He was sporting a black eye, blaming her for something he did not explain. When they made love, he was uninspiring. And here she was, feeling stupid in this hot little gold bikini. It was a match for her skin tone. As tight as it was pretty well display her charms for all to see. She had seen a few people she knew vaguely, and had tried to avoid them. Still, she knew she had been recognized.

Sasha DiMicelli kept as low a profile as she could. If anyone recognized her in her see-through bikini, they wouldn’t have believed it. For all her public railing against sexism, her very fit body exuded sex. The heels were especially degrading. From her protesting back, she knew they were forcing her to jut her ass out. Several times she had been patted, caressed and pinched, as people took her posture as an invitation to touch her. She had looked around at the other women, and knew her breasts were, on the whole, smaller than most. But they bounced around, proclaiming their natural state, unaugmented.

Diane Sattler had been filled with dread as the party got underway. Two weeks ago, she was the leading candidate to get perfect grades. That she had been augmenting her chances had been a necessary step. Then this stinking Arab had nabbed her for using the ‘buy a term paper’ service. She might have been able to bluff her way through one of them, but three was unexplainable. That had led to the night in the van. She had never been drilled into the yielding mattress so many times as she had that night. She had been sore for three days. And then there had been the session at his apartment, starting with a blow job and leading to another night on her back. And here she was in this show everything bikini. Her date was obviously feeling very frisky. She assumed she would have to service him.

Medi finally stepped up to the mike. “I am so pleased you are enjoying the evneing, are you not?” There was a loud cheer. “And now, for a special surprise, we will play aa game called “Climb the Pyramid.” He outlined he rules. Each woman had received a ticket when she came in. And they needed to have it handy. He would draw a matching ticket from the fishbowl. “The lucky contestant will spin the wheel to find out her category. Then I will ask five questions. Each question is worth more money.” The first was worth $100, then $200, $400, $800, and $1600. So, if the contestant got through, she would earn a minimum of $3100.” The crowd was properly appreciative. “Now, if the contestant declines to answer the question, I will double the money I am offering for the answer. And I will do that at least one time, maybe more. Should the contestant say no too many times, she will be finished.” If she stopped before question four, she got to keep the money. After that, she had to go all the way or get nothing. On the last question, the contestant wiould be asked to do something. If she agreed, it could not be with her date. Five simple yes’s and she got $3100, right there, right now. The crowd roared their approval, wondering what could be so hard about answering some questions. Medi nodded to his strong armed men who would keep the contestant’s dates under control.

Medi turned to the wheel. He pulled the cover aside, revealing a great circle with six pieces of pie. They were labeled, ‘Buddy Can You Spare A Dime’, ‘Darker The Better’, ‘It Hurts So Good’, ‘Lizzie Fun’, ‘More The Merrier’, and ‘Show Me Yours and I’ll Show You Mine’. Medi made a great show of moving to the fishbowl. But there was no randomness in it. Six girls were going to play this game. They knew that, if they didn’t do what he wanted, they would face the consequences. Certainly they would face social ruin. And some of them would probably go to jail.

Show Me Yours And I’ll Show You Mine

Yvette had pulled her ticket out. Rob was kind of curious about it, and she showed him the number. She had seen all the categories, taking in all the sexual innuendos provided. She wondered who would be foolish enough to play some stupid game.

Medi made a great show of pulling a ticket out of the fishbowl. He looked at it and held it up for the room to see. The type was too small, and the number he was about to call out wasn’t the one on the ticket anyway. “Do we have a number 14 in the house?” The crowd was looking around. He had already located Yvette. “Please, to come up? Number 14?” He had an especially strong hold on Yvette since she had stolen money. It was an offense which, with luck, would lead to jail time. It would certainly get her expelled. He licked his lips in appreciation.

Yvette was still looking at her number when he called it out. Her feeling of alarm was intensified when she realized she was the luck contestant. She had a very bad feeling about this. But she knew the hold he had on her. So, when she heard her number called, she went on up. She was beyond self consciousness in the ridiculous bikini she was wearing. She hadn’t even been allowed to pick it. But she couldn’t afford to get him mad. She had checked out the rest of the room while waiting for this, and knew she was wearing the smallest, thinnest bikinis she had seen. The flesh tone heightened the illusion that she had nothing on. The bottom was so tiny she had to shave. The strap had ridden down between her cheeks, leaving nothing to the imagination. The heels forced her to stick her ass out to maintain her balance.

Acting like the oily game show host, he sidled up to the nervous redhead. “You understand the rules, of course?” Yvette looked at him, a quizzical expression on her face. It was also the first time she had looked directly at him. For the benefit of the crowd, he repeated them. “You would like to play,yes?” As if she had a choice. One of the camera’s in the video suite recorded her nod. He slipped his arm around her waist. “Yes, as to the money. You could win up to $3100. A not inconsiderable sum, yes?” She trembled slightly under his touch but did not pull away.

Had he not already been inside her, she would have minded more. She knew this was going to be bad, but she was determined to get through it. Anything was better than jail. When he slipped his arm around her waist, she found herself remembering when he had held her hips and sodomized her. Her ass still burned when she went to the bathroom. He patted her and nudged her up to the wheel. The labels made little sense to her. She reached up and spun the wheel. It spun around several times. She was still trying to read the labels as it came to rest on “Show Me Yours and I’ll Show You Mine.”

He grinned at her. She was looking away again. “First question. When you masterbate, do you use just your fingers, or do you use other toys. And remember, we need an oral response.” The crowd laughed.

Yvette was startled by the question. She groaned and nodded. He would not let her answer that way. “Yes, I use toys.” She could feel sweat starting to breakout on her forehead. She could hear the crowd asking what she used, enjoying her humiliation. She held her head in shame. Seeing the bill proffered out of her peripheral vision, she took the bill. This was worse than she thought. What else would there be? Would she still have a boyfriend after tonight? Would she have any friends after tonight?

Medi patted her on the shoulder, handing her the $100. “Are you ready for the second question. You may take the money and stop, if you wish.” Not in this lifetime. He held up two new $100 bills for the crowd to see. “Do you know what beavering is?” She looked at him. “You know, when a girl opens her legs and lets someone look up her skirt.” He got the smallest of nods. He could hear her take a deep breath. Her breasts heaved in a delightful manner, something the crowd also noticed. “Have you ever beavered for complete strangers?” He kept his arm on her soft round shoulder.

She had never considered such a thing. He asked her a second time, this time running his hand over her shoulder. She knew what she had to do. She had to get through this evening any way she could. She didn’t want to go to jail. She could hear the quiver in her voice. “Yes, I’ve beavered for strangers.” He wanted to know if any of them were here tonight, holding up another $200. “No, I don’t think so.” She could feel sweat between her breasts. The crowd gave a mock cry of disappointment.

Medi could see that her boyfriend was being restrained now. Arm still draped around her shoulder, Medi reached into his pocket and pulled out four $100 bills. “Read to continue?” Still stiff, she mumbled something. Medi goaded her into an audible affirmative. “Have you ever told a complete stranger you were not wearing panties?” Pulling away from him, she violently shook her head. “Remember, you must use words to answer me.”

She wasn’t sure if they were on the second question or not. She usually wore panties because it made a mess if she didn’t. And she certainly had never told anyone that. She was suddenly worried that she had gone to far. But he wasn’t done with her yet. Holding her close, he threatened her again. She could still remember him holding onto her waist as he rammed his cock up her ass hole. Why was it that Arabs had such a fascination with ass holes? It had certainly been no fun for her. Then he held up additional money and asked her the question again. “Yes, I’ve told people I had no panties on.” She took the money like a common whore. The crowd was cheering.

Lindsey was wasn’t sure what to think. She knew that, by being part of this, she was endangering her future political ambitiions. But, because of the hit and run, she really didn’t have a whole lot of choice. She wondered if the bimbo up there had been hooked by Medi or if she were doing it for the money.

He held up additional money. “Is one of them in the room now?” She looked at him, a slightly dazed expression on her face. He was giving a special sign to one of his cast members. They spoke up, saying she had come on to him that way. He reported that they hadn’t known each other very long, but it had been great. The crowd was really getting into it now. He handed her the additional money as her boyfriend was escorted out. He would have to settle for watching the rest of the performance on a monitor. The DVD would not make it’s appearance for several weeks.

She was becoming numb at all of this. She was ruined, but she was determined not to go to jail. She took the bills. The crowd was cheering again and it took a moment for her to hear to commotion from her boyfriend. Maybe he was her ex-boyfriend now. At any rate, he was being dragged from the room. His arm was around her waist now. She was bracing for the next question when he changed tack. He went into a song and dance about how she could quit if she wanted to. She had already earned $2100, quite a large sum. If she could get it a little higher, she would be able to make good her losses in the fund and get clear of this dirty Arab. But she remembered what he had told her earlier. If she failed to complete the set of questions, all the dirt on her would be released. Maybe it would mean jail time. She was trapped. What else could she do? Whatever it took to get to the end. How bad could it be. “Sure. Let’s go on.” How much worse could it be?

Medi held up eight new $100 bills. He looked at the sweating girl. She was breathing heavily. He noticed her nipples were hard, poking through the thin material of her bikini top. He pulled his arm up around her shoulder again. “Have you ever been photographed or taped while fucking someone?” She was leaning more heavily against him.

She did not understand why, but she felt a sick thrill that was almost sexual. She had seldom been out of control. Never in her life had she ever considered it. She decided if she had to sell her honor, she would get as much as she could. “No, of course not. Why would I do something like that?” She pushed her hip against him. His hand was down around her waist again, and then below her waist line. He asked her again. “Yah, I guess so. I’ve been taped having sex.” More money showed up.

He flashed an additional eight bills. “Is one of your co-stars here tonight?” He was stroking her skin. Just as promptly, an Asian man said she had deep throated him. The crowd roared with laughter when someone quipped that had been the short of it. Medi openly patted her ass, trying to goose her between her cheeks. She squirmed but did not pull away from him. “Are you ready for the final question?” It was really a deed to seal her degradation. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, reminding her anything was better than jail. And she got to keep the money.

Heather was agog at what Yvette was doing. She knew her slightly and could not believe that a future valadictorian would admit to such things. But then she considered her own situation. Here she was, dressed in the skimpiest of leather bikinis and strange hands wandering over her body.

Yvette had to confess she was beginning to become aroused by all this attention. What was he going to do, fuck her here on the stage? With his hand trying to find her crack, the bastard stuck his tongue through her hair into her ear. He nibbled at her ear and pulled away. She felt the coolness on her hip where she had been leaning against him. The crowd roard with anticipation.

He was now holding 16 bills. “I want you to convince someone in this room to pay $200 for 30 minutes of lap dances. You can earn an additional $500 for each time they cum.” He held up the money for all to see. She had a sly smile on her face when she refused. Clearly she was holding out for more money. In melodramatic fashion, he counted off an additional 16 bills, the crowd counting with him.

And then it was out there. She took a deep breath. He asked her again. She looked at him and at the money, drawing it out. “Yes.” She took the wad of cash, wondering just what she would have to do. Then he piled on the final items. She wouldn’t have to do it in public, just a private room. She would have to keep her heels on, but be otherwise naked when she did it. And, the final humiliation, or so she thought, she would have to take her clothes off to music, to be a stripper.

Krissie was fascinated by this. She knew she had all the moves a stripper would want. And, in secret, a few times, she had played at being one. But she had never done it for anyone. She wondered what it would be like to do it for this crowd.

Yvette inwardly groaned at having to strip in front of all these people. But her reputation had been drug through the mud anyway. This couldn’t be any worse than what she had already done to herself. She began dancing to the music, ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’. The crowd started clapping and she started to get into it. She had gone through some Jazzercise classes to keep her weight down, and she started doing those moves. She could feel her boobs wanting to come out of her top. She gyrated her hips, and turned around to wiggle her ass for them. Trying to go with the music, she reached back and pulled the tie string on her top. Her large orbs immediatel bounced free, to the delight of the gathered mailes. She pulled it over her head and, on impulse, threw it into the crowd. Still prancing around, she wiggled her hips pushing her tiny bikini bottom down, showing a shaved pussy. Pushing it on down, she stepped out of it, caught it by a toe and tried to kick it out into the crowd. But it didn’t get past the front row.

Sasha was sickened by this. Why would any woman degrade herself so? Surely it couldn’t just be the money. For it if were, that would make women mere whores. She fervently hoped nothing like this ever happened to her.

At Medi’s urging, she stepped off the stage, her large orbs bouncing again. Going to the first male, she raised her eyebrow. She heard Medi reminding her that $200 was a lot of money and she needed to put some heart into this. Ignoring his date, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body full against his. She could feel his massive hard-on. She asked him if he wanted to go somewhere and have fun. His hands wandered over her ass, but she could not get a commitment from him. She could feel the hands all around her, touching her body. Pushing away, she turned to another, taking his hands and putting them on her breasts. She asked him if he would like to go do something nasty. He was squeezing her breasts in spite of the glare his date was giving Yvette. But he shook his head. Turning to the next male, an Arab, she pressed her body against him. His hands were all over her. He asked her how much. She told him it was only $200, and they would have a really good time. She could feel his male organ against her naked stomach. She was stroking his thick chest hair as he asked her what she did. She told him she did it all, and could they go now. He finally agreed and they made their through the crowd. She vaguely heard Medi announcing that she would be available for other dances if anyone wanted to get to know her better. Medi had the room equipped for video taping, of course.

It Hurts So Good

Even Medi was breathing hard after Yvette’s performance. The next one was no sure thing that he would be able to get her to go through with it. It would add an air of uncertainty if someone actually stopped without getting to the end. “Pretty good show, is it not? The last act will be tough to follow. But we must try, must we not?” The crowd was revved up and rearing to go. He reached into the bowl and pulled out a number. “The lucky contestant is number one. If you have the number, please come forward.” More to the point, the unlucky girl. The blonde, very well endowed, quite natural, and just a bit on the plump side, wiggled and jiggled her way to the stage. Her tight leopard print bikini blended well with her white skin. Her large breasts were all but ready to fall out. The thin fabric did nothing to hide her nipples, or her delicious Mound of Venus. All in all, this paragon of future politics, a wannabe Senator looked the complete slut.

Lindsey quietly accepted his arm around her naked waist. She wished she weren’t showing so much skin, but that couldn’t be helped. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, calling her Annie Oakley. He was reminding her of their night together, when she had been on top, screwing and screwing and screwing. She had gotten so tired, but he had insisted she go on. She looked at the labels, not liking the looks of any of them, as he ws explaining the rules. She nodded when asked if she understood. Then she spun the wheel. When it landed on ‘IT HURTS SO GOOD’ she imagined what that meant.

Heather was acute conscious of her leather outfit. She was also very aware of some of the people around her who were also attired in various bits of leather. She counted herself lucky she hadn’t drawn the subject this new bimbo had drawn.

Krissie froze. She had finally figured out what this was all about. Clearly, the first girl on stage had not wanted to be there. And this one, Lindsey, was someone she knew. And she was certain she would never willingly do this. Krissie began to pray she would not be one of the lucky girls.

His hand was traveling up and down her flank, bare from the thin strap of the bikini bottom to her high heels. She docilely accepted this. “Would you be ready to start?” He was holding up $100. At her nod, he asked the first question. “Have you ever fantasized about being a slave girl?” She flinched. He whispered in her ear. “This isn’t so bad, just go along with it. People don’t need to know what you did.”

She felt his hand stroking her hip, just as he had when she rode him. He was waving $100 in front of her like she was a common prostitute. She was filled with dread that people would think she was a greedy, ditsy blonde. She had never, in her life, dreamed any such thing, but she had no choice. “I’ve wondered what it would be like to be a slave girl.” She felt the blood draining from her face. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening to her. It was like she was in a dream, far, far away from the person standing on this stage, being drooled on by this oily Arab.

The crowd began looking at her in a different light, not as a self confident woman, but more as a willing victim. Appearing not to realize he was on the mike he said he would have never imagined she had. He was holding up $200 now. “Have you ever asked to be spaned before having sex?” He asked Lindsey if she had ever asked a to spank her before having sex. His hand was running over her cheek now, lightly patting it.

She so wanted to push his hand away, but dared not. In a voice which didn’t seem like hers, she heard someone answering him. “Yes. I have wanted to be spanked before having sex.” She hardly felt the money being thrust into her hands. Then he was asking her if one of her partners was here. She numbly heard someone in the audience start boasting that he had done it with her. Looking at him, she saw an overweight Hispanic she would never have gone out with in a million years. She felt like her feet were nailed to the floor. She now had even more money.

He was reaching down almost between her legs, searching for her pussy. He could feel her heat and was wondering if she were getting wet. “Whenyou are spanked, do you prefer the hand or a belt?” He was sure he could feel some dampness.

Sasha so wanted the girl up there to stop this, to push his oily hands away, to end all of this. It wa a symbol of how wrong the country was that someone could put their hands all over a girl, in public, with her obviously not liking it, and have a crowd cheer. Someday she would change all this, that is if she gout of if this evening in one piece.

She felt so helpless. By the same token, she was feeling a certain sexual thrill of loosing control of the situation, like the other night. She mumbled and then remembered that she needed to speak up. She sensed that the crowd wanted the more kinky answer. “Well, I like the belt.” She took the money, now holding thirteen of the bills.

Medi did not find this as exciting as he had thought it would be. Lindsey, for whatever reason, was seeming to go through the motions. But he did the best he could. “Well. You now have $1300. A very tidy sum. Do you wish to stop, or do you want to go on?” He almost stopped stroking her, expecting her to pull away.

She felt like she was part of a larger process now, a train that was rolling down hill and could not be stopped. “Let’s get on with it.” Her hips were starting to move with the goosing he was giving her.

He recalled, vividly, having spanked her the night he had gotten to know her. At first she had fought back, but had accepted it after a while. Maybe she had made a discovery about herself that night. “Very good. We are in the home stretch.” He poked his finger visibly and she sagged against him. “Has anyone ever tied you up and used you as a pain toy. Did it make the sex better?” She was undulating her hips in time to his probing of her womanhood.

She felt she was near an orgasm, and did not understand how that could be. “Yes. I love being a pain toy. It’s really great.” As a matter of fact, she had been thrilled when Medi had done that to her in the van. She had never had such powerful orgasms. They had started when she was being spanked, and went on cumming all night.

He knew her pussy was wet. “Ready for the final question?” She nodded, her blonde hair flouncing around. “Will you put on a slave collar and seek out a master?” She nodded yes, and then answered properly when prompted. He counted out the 16 bills and handed them to her. She had been pretty cheap.

Diane had never understood the fascination so many seemed to have with pain and sex. She didn’t really like pain, although it was an interesting counterpoint to the shear pleasure of the big O. But why had this girl allowed this to be done to herself?

The collar had a leash attached to it. Unbuckling the collar, Lindsey prepared to put it on. He threw in his ‘oh by the way’, that she would need to take the rest of her clothes off. She had been almost looking forward to it, feeling totally depraved. In the back of her mind she knew she had $3700. Clothes were too nice for a bad girl. Nor, would she be allowed any privacy to change. He was still holding onto her waist as she stripped off her bikini top and her bottom. She kicked off her 3 inch heels, and felt her breasts sag as they were no longer supported, and they bounced uncomfortably when she moved around. She put on the collar, but had a little trouble. He wouldn’t help. She managed, the leash dropping down between her breasts.

He almost regretted he would not be ploughing her furrow tonight. But someone else would do that. He remembered her slightly chubby body as she revealed it. He looked back and checked her ass, and was pleased to see some faint bruises. He flicked the leash she was now wearing.

Somehow the leash was worse than being naked in front of all these leering people. Then he handed her a belt, but it was strange. She belted it on. He motioned for her to put her hands at her side. When she did, he grabbed her left hand and fastened it to a loop in the belt. Before she could react, he did the same to her other hand. She experimented to try and pull her arms away, but could not. Then while she was standing here, he slipped a hood over her head, blocking her view.

Medi slapped her naked ass and she jumped, her breasts bouncing around. “Girl, go find your master. You will know when someone takes your leash.” He guided the hooded girl off the stage. “You and your date will spend an all expenses paid weekend at the Pine Tree Hotel. That includes a trip to the exotic Nick’s Tatoo Parlour. He gave her a little shove and she stumbled forward into the crowd of lust filled males and females.

Heather had to step out of the way of the naked girl. Some sick part of her was tempted to grab the leash, but she resisted. She was roughly thrust aside as someone took the stupid bitch in tow. God how she hated this whole setup.

Lindsey, unable to see, took a tentative step forward. She immediately felt hands and fingers touching her breasts, pinching her nipples. Fingers were probing for her pussy and her ass. She was also receiving slaps to her ass and legs. She also felt someone jerking on her blonde pony tail. Then she felt the unmistakable jerk on her collar and she felt herself being dragged from the room, into a strange new life. It surprised her that she was sexually keyed up. She wished she could see who her master was.

Lizzie Fun

The sexual tension in the room was at the exploding point. He could see some of the pairs heading for the exits, almost running. “Are we having fun yet?” The crowd roared. “Let us see who might be next.” He moved to the fishbowl to pick the next contestant, number two, Heather. She had been bad at giving head, but learned to do a better job. Not that he was jaded, but he was wondering how much more sex he really wanted to do with them. But he remembered her, enjoying sliding his meat between her amazing tits, squirting up into her face when he came.

Krissie found herself breathing hard. While she did not want to be here, it was kind of fun. And she continued to fret. What if she would have to do something up there? Would she be able to do it, or not.

Although he had dictated her outfit, Medi still amazed at the transformation of the Sorority President, model of oh so proper women, into a blonde bimbo, wearing a tiny leather bikini. Her breasts, augmented, were barely contained by the tiny top. And the bottom was so small it almost did not cover her holes. Only Medi noticed the two minders moving to her escort’s side. He called to the crowd. “Any leather lovers out there?” Everyone was. He handed the mike to her and asked her to introduce herself. He tried to put his arm around her waist. She pulled away from him, but he pulled her back in. She told everyone her name and what she did.

Still trying to touch her, she could not bear it. Maybe she couldn’t get through this? Having watched the ordeal the earlier woman had gone through, she reckoned she would not be in the Sorority after tonight, let alone it’s President. Seeing him again, she could not help looking down at his crotch. It was bulging. It wasn’t so big that she couldn’t take it entirely in her mouth. Would jail be better than this? He pushed her toward the wheel, and she spun it, just as the others had, not really very curious at what came up. When it came to rest on LIZZIE FUN, she knew, more or less what to expect. He tried to put his arm around her waist again, and she wiggled away from him, again. She wanted him and hated him.

He reminded her of the rules. She must answer the questions. For each of the first three, she could stop at any time and keep the money. But the big money was at the end. She nodded she was ready. He held up a single $100 bill. “Have you ever wished you were a man so you could fuck another woman?” She staggered as if she had been struck. She took a step back and Medi wondered if she would refuse to go through with it.

No matter how humiliating, she knew she would have to answer yes. And she would have to agree to do whatever he wanted. She was sure to be painted a Lesbian. She was in too deep to stop. She nodded. He coaxed her, telling her she needed to respond. “I sometime wish I were a man so I could fuck a girl.” He wanted to know if she were here tonight. He was holding out another bill. Grabbing for it, she nodded. She whispered, wondering if she were supposed to name her. He cupped his ear and made her repeat it. She was loud enough that his mike picked up a breathy word, “Ashley.” She expanded, “Ashley Wilcox.” She had no idea where the name had come from. She had no particular like or dislike for the freshman. It had just been the first name in her head. She kept hers down, not wanting to look out at the crowd. She could feel her sweat. She was burning up in this ridiculous bikini. She suspected she would be out of it soon enough. He looked her in the eye, he wasn’t that tall. In fact, in bed, when he rode her, they were almost a perfect size for each other. She kept thinking of those orgasms and wondered if she would ever feel any that intense again. Probably not tonight anyway.

Sasha knew a number of gays. And this girl certainly did not give any of the signals of being one. So, unless she were forced, why would she do this?

Medi joined the crowd in looking. They fixed on a trim blonde beauty wearing tight a tight denim bikini. Ashley was shaking her head, dening the assertion. Medi wondered what would become of her. Maybe she would wind up on stage. Medi moved beside her again, putting his arm on her shoulder. She was as tall as he was. He found he had acquired a taste for long legged American girls. Maybe he should have Hernandez check out the women’s volley ball and basketball teams. But he was really after white pussy, not that he had anything against black girls, but humiliating white girls was so much more satisfying. “Have you ever French kissed another girl?” Pushing him and the $400 aside, she shook her head. The crowd laughed. Peeling off another $400, he cocked his head and looked first, at her, then the crowd, then back to her. She took it. “Is she here, by any chance?” Before Heather could answer, one of his hirees raised her hand. She was an athletic Hispanic woman. The crowd buzzed even more.

He was touching her again. She could remember how he had pressed his body against her tits. He asked her if she wanted to stop. But she knew she had no choice. His hand was stroking her hip. In a dull voice she answered. “No. Let’s just go on.” The crowd roared as he asked her if she had 69’ed another woman. She shook her head. He counted out more money. She still shook her head. He was now holding 16 bills. Even with the crowd urging her on, she couldn’t bring herself to agree to this. He was now holding out 32 bills. He told the crowd this was the very last time. She was in agony. If she admitted this, some would think her either a lesbian or else a money grubbing whore. She finally gave in, sagging against him, tears in her eyes, nodding yes. But it wasn’t good enough for him. He told her to answer the question. Knowing she was crossing a threshold she said, in a strangled voice, “Yes. I 69’ed with a woman.” She now felt like a total prostitute as she took the money.

Diane had been the recepient of oral sex on several occasions. It had been administered by boys. And she had enjoyed it. She wondered what it was like for a woman to do it?

The crowd knew they were down to the final question. “Well. Here we are, down to the final strokes.” The crowd laughed. “Are you ready to perform a task? Yes - you get the cash. No - you leave with nothing.” He didn’t need to expand on that. After the courts were done with her, she would get 20 to life. Was she ready? He was standing well away from the leather bikini blonde.

If she said no she lost everything. Not only that, she knew she would go to jail with real lesbians. She was, literally, all alone now. Knowing she would probably never have a decent boyfriend again, she agreed. Heather was starting to sweat, heavily. She could feel it running down between her breasts. She could feel it running down her trim legs. Then he asked her to find a woman who would go to bed with her for an hour, that she was to pay Heather $200. Trembling, unwilling to do it, she shook her head violently. She watched as he counted out 16 more bills. She knew she was beaten as he draped his arm over her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, looking at the floor, she nodded yes. The money was hers.

Reaching his had down inside her tiny leather top, he cupped her breast. Everyone could see what he was doing. She just stood there, taking it. How he loved the power he had over her. He slid one of her nipples between his finger and squeezed hard. She yelped and jumped, but didn’t pull away. He resumed stroking her tit. He turned to the crowd. “Maybe we should have an new category. IT HURTS SO GOOD MIGHT BE FUN. What do you think Heather?” She just stared at him, not answering. He decided he would punish her later.

Krissie didn’t think it would be fun. Sex was fun. Manipulating people was even more fun. Being hurt wasn’t. She wondered when the night would be over.

Heather felt her body respond, beraying her. Even before he said it, she knew there were going to be the final humiliations. He told her she needed to strip. Heather considered holding out for more money, but was dissuaded by his stern look at her. Finally, letting him hold her, she kicked out of her 3” shiny black heels, ‘fuck me heels’ her now ex-boyfriend had called them. She took off her top, his hand still on her breast until she brushed it away. She knew everyone was looking at her large tits, accentuated by her tan lines. Continuing, she followed with the much too tight leather G. And then she knew everyone must be looking at her shaved pussy. She felt completely vulnerable now, the prey for anyone out there who was of a mind to take her.

Medi gave her a shove and she was down into the crowd. The guys, earlier straining to be close to her, were actually shying back a little. He could see that Heather had no clue as to what to do. Medi saw Ebony moving in on her. The black woman, taller and broader in the sholder than the brainy brunette grabbed Heather and hugged her. The naked white girl was being crushed against the woman clad in an African print pants suit. Then black fingers were culred in blonde hair and Ebony’s broad black lips were mashing Heather’s thinner lips. From the workings of the black woman’s mouth, it was obvious she had invaded the Sorority President’s mouth, and was starting to be kissed back. The crowd jostled around as a black hand snaked down a white back, over firm white checks, and entered Heather’s asshole.

Sasha was a ways from the action. From what she could see, a Black woman was taking the white girl. She had always seen Blacks as natural allies, but not equals. And this activity struck her as fundamentally wrong. She hoped nothing like this happened to her.

And then Ebony was forcing Heather down to her knees. Medi felt himself growing hard, and feeling a little jealous. He had made full use of the blonde’s mouth, and now this black woman would do the same. He watched as blonde hair was suddenly against the wild African print’s crotch. Ebony rubbed her pussy against the white girl’s mouth, to the growing delight of the crowd. Medi was beginning to wonder if they would have sex in public. The thought excited him. But then Ebony was pulling Heather to her feet. Strong black arm around Heather’s soft round shoulders, the black-white couple made their way through the crowd to a place of defilement for Heather. Medi smiled, knowing the cameras would record it all. He announced the two lovers would be in room 6L. In an hour, anyone with $200 could get to know Heather better. And her room was equipped with all the toys that a girl like her would want, whether they wanted to be on top or on the bottom. Heather was adaptable and eager to please. Just let her know, in a firm manner what what expected of her.