“Light” Bondage -- by lightswitch © November 2007 [(F/F, lesbian), reluctant/forced, interracial, Asian (subcontinent) female, white female, bondage, fart, humiliation, gentle snuff] =========== A Thanksgiving story. Synopsis: Two female clerks draw the unenviable task of putting up the store Christmas decorations on Thanksgiving night, in preparation for the holiday shopping rush Friday morning. A misstep on a ladder brings a haughty blonde crashing down, to become hopelessly entangled in the strings of lights. Her pretty Pakistani co-worker sees an opportunity for titillation and revenge. =========== The Mal-Mart clerks huddled together fearfully – this was one of the many moments they dreaded each year: The announcement of who would be required to give up their holiday evening in order to decorate the store for the start of another official Holiday Season. The Assistant Manager tried to look thoughtful as he scanned his clipboard. “Why does he bother?” Shimaila asked herself. “He already knows who he’s going to select.” The young Pakistani girl stewed silently – every time, so far, it seemed as if his selections were based on flagrant favoritism: Whomever was the least popular, or whomever the assistant manager disliked, always seemed to get the “short straw.” Being an immigrant, she found herself being selected for such duties often. “It’s not like you celebrate American holidays!” the pimply-faced assistant manager would tell her. “You’re not giving up that much! The other clerks … well, it would be a major imposition, for them!” As if it wasn’t a major imposition on *her*! Of course she was giving up a lot! *Anyone* appreciates time away from a menial job! *Everyone* would resent having to work beyond normal hours, late into the evening! It had nothing to do with holidays! Besides, Shimaila *was* a US citizen – she had been for almost eight years, now! “I’m as American as any of them!” she fumed. OK, OK!” the assistant manager announced loudly. “Working the Winter Holiday decoration shift tonight will be …” “Please not me!” Shimaila prayed. “Please not me! Please not me!” “Shimaila!” the assistant manager announced. Damn!!! Shimaila swore to herself, livid with rage. He’d done it again! The idiot was a known bigot, especially after 9/11. “He hates me because my skin is dark and because of my origins,” Shimaila thought, bitterly. She silently cursed the perpetrators of 9/11 – things had been rough before, but after 9/11 … it seemed as if anyone from a Muslim country was viewed as ‘Guilty until Proven Innocent.’ The assistant manager continued, unaware of the turmoil he had caused the pretty Pakistani girl … unaware and uncaring. “… and Tiffany!” he finished. The group gave a collective gasp, but quickly silenced itself. Tiffany? She was the last person any of them would have expected to be tagged with such an onerous duty. Tiffany was a beautiful, vibrant, bleached-blonde with a figure that made men putty in her hands. True, she was an arrogant bitch, but her stunning good looks always insulated her from any fall-out. What had happened? How could such a popular girl have been tagged for “Black Friday” decorating duty?!? With a start, Shimaila realized that the adolescent, tin-pot dictator of an assistant manager must have made an overture towards the gorgeous blonde … and been predictably shot down. This was probably his petty revenge. “That’s *bullshit*!” Tiffany shouted, stomping her foot. “You can’t do that to me!” The assistant manager gave her a mean grin. “I can,” he snorted, “and I have. Either do what you’re told or submit your resignation.” Tiffany scowled but swallowed her anger. She may have been beautiful, but like the rest of the clerks, she needed this minimum-wage job. Buzzing in obvious relief, the rest of the clerks filed up to punch out, eagerly chatting about their holiday plans. “This could be … interesting …,” Shimaila thought. She evaluated the fuming blonde standing nearby, who was gritting her teeth in anger. Tiffany was absolutely gorgeous, Shimaila had to admit. “She’s everything I’m not,” the pretty Pakistani sighed to herself. “I’m pretty, yes … but she is *beautiful*. She has long, flowing, golden tresses … I have black hair that my parents insist I wear pulled back in a tight bun. She has beautiful, pale skin that looked as soft as white silk. I have dark-brown skin …” Shimaila stopped. Her skin really wasn’t bad at all … it just looked so … mundane … in her eyes, next to the alabaster beauty named Tiffany. “She is tall and full-figured,” Shimaila sighed to herself, “with gravity-defying tits as big as cantaloupes, while I …” She looked down regretfully at her own pear-sized breasts. “While I can’t even decently fill a B cup.” She realized that she was being overly hard on herself. She was just envious of the vivacious blonde. Still, there was something about the fact that Tiffany was sharing her fate that made her feel better. “At least I will get to string the lights again,” she thought. There was something cheerful and uplifting about stringing the yards and yards of lights around the ceiling and pillars – something that seemed to brighten her mood, each year. It almost made up for the tedium of dusting off and arranging the heavy, cumbersome North Pole character props – now *that* was tedious work! “Fuck!” Tiffany snarled, as the crowd left. She wheeled to stomp back into the retail area of the store. “We might as well get this over with,” she grumbled. “I’ll put up the lights, you get the North Pole scene crap from storage.” With neither discussion nor negotiation, the haughty blonde began pulling huge piles of wires and lights from the stacked boxes. Shimaila blinked back tears. “What?!?” she agonized, silently. “I … I have to do the North Pole props? I don’t even get to do the lights, this year?!?” This was unbearable! “Tiffany?” she ventured, voice quavering. “Is it … would it be OK if *I* did the lights?” The arrogant blonde arched an eyebrow at her. “Sure,” she sniffed. “You can help me with the lights. Then you can do the props.” Shimaila’s heart sank, realizing she had now committed to one-and-a-half jobs. But she gamely started helping Tiffany untangle the miles of holiday lights that had been knotted and twisted from last year. “Geez!” Tiffany gave an exasperated sigh, “it’s like someone went and knotted these damned things on purpose! They’re almost impossible to untangle!” Shimaila nodded, and patiently continued unraveling the huge piled of knotted lights, her slender fingers deftly teasing wires free. Tiffany soon lost interest and began taking the untangled cords of lights that Shimaila freed and stringing them up. The pretty Pakistani girl kept working at untangling the lights until a call from her co-worker interrupted her. “Hey, Paki!” Tiffany called. “Be useful and hold the ladder for me!” Shimaila’s cheeks burned with indignation at the racial slur. “Bigoted bitch!” she muttered. But she went over to steady the ladder, in spite of her humiliation. Tiffany climbed onto the 25-foot ladder, straining to position the cord of lights with one hand and maneuver the staple gun with the other. After a half hour or so, the arrogant blonde called out to Shimaila again. “Follow me up!” Tiffany commanded. “I can’t stand heights and the top of the ladder is shaky. Hold my hips to steady me.” Seething with indignation, but outwardly unprotesting, Shimaila did as she was ordered, holding her breath as she climbed the ladder. The floor was beginning to look more and more distant. “It’s only about 20 feet up,” she told herself. Tiffany had already strung a thick, chaotic web of lights between columns, a design that looked ugly and haphazard to Shimaila. But she bit her tongue, not daring to voice an opinion. The pretty Pakistani looked down, at the tangled wires and wondered how in the world they’d untangle that mess *next* year. Tiffany was stretching to build her web higher, towards the ceiling. Steadying the blonde’s hips, Shimaila found herself mesmerized by the upskirt peek of Tiffany’s bobbing white ass … hovering inches above her face. The pretty Pakistani caught her breath as she stared at the white girl’s gorgeous backside. Such a full, round, tantalizing derriere … ! So … arousing! “Is this how boys felt when they looked at women?” Shimaila wondered, as she stood, frozen and confused, on the ladder. “Why is the sight of her rear having such an effect on me?” she wondered. “Is it possible that I am bisexual? Or is Tiffany so stunning that her beauty transcends gender?” Shimaila couldn’t look away, continuing to stare up Tiffany’s skirt, watching the fabulous, creamy globes of her co-worker’s ass cheeks work and undulate, the thin fabric of the blonde’s blue thong-panties lost up the white girl’s ass crack. The pretty Pakistani almost moaned with arousal. So close … ! Carefully … tentatively … Unable to resist, she climbed another step, bringing her face almost in contact with the beautiful blonde’s mouth-watering ass. Unfortunately, there was a trade-off: She was closer now, true, but also higher -- Tiffany’ short skirt now completely blocked Shimaila’s view. “Doesn’t matter,” Shimaila breathed. “She’s still gorgeous … even with her skirt on!” She was so close that her nose was gently brushing the blonde’s skirt-clad ass. Unfortunately, the pretty Pakistani’s face was also so close that she could no longer focus her eyes on that beautiful, impossibly rounded backside. What to do …? Enjoy the close proximity, but give up the visual stimulation? Or lean back a little, sacrificing the intimate closeness in order to continue drinking in this magnificent sight? “Are you staring at my ass?” The cold voice broke the spell Shimaila was under and brought crashing back to reality. She looked up to see Tiffany glaring down at her, in revulsion. “You are!” the haughty blonde sneered in disgust. “You’re ogling my ass, aren’t you!?!” Shimaila shook her head in desperate denial. “No!” she protested. “I mean, I was looking, but I didn’t … I wasn’t … You’re so beautiful that … !” Mortified, Shimaila clamped a hand over her mouth. Had she really just said that?!? She felt her face flush with embarrassment. Looking up, she saw Tiffany still sneering down at her. The haughty blonde was smiling, but it was a cold, mean smile. “Why you little lez!” she laughed. “You were! You were getting off, sniffing my ass, weren’t you!?!” Shimaila felt tears of shame well up in her eyes. “No!” she cried. “I … I wasn’t *sniffing*! I was … “ What *had* she been doing? “Getting excited being so near another woman’s backside,” she admitted to herself, with a flush of shame. “Gods,” she whispered. “What a degenerate I have become.” Tiffany smiled coldly. “That’s OK, Paki,” she chuckled. Her voice smoothed, seductively. “You like my ass?,” she asked, jutting her beautiful rear out a bit. “You think my ass is sexy?” The cruel blonde reached down to the back of her skirt, about halfway between the waistband and hem, and pulled up. The hem of her skirt raised, revealing her pale, practically bare ass. “Is this what you wanted?” Tiffany purred, invitingly. “To look at my ass? Do you like looking at my ass, Paki?” Shimaila’s heart was in her throat, eyes glued to that beautiful, creamy ass, so close to her face. Tiffany jutted her ass back further, so that Shimaila’s nose gently grazed her pale ass crack. “You like my ass, Paki?” Tiffany repeated. “You want to kiss it?” Shimaila was paralyzed, torn between revulsion at Tiffany’s cruel, degrading mockery; the shame of being discovered; and the intense arousal of having that gorgeous, milky-white ass so close. “Kiss it,” Tiffany urged. “Kiss my rear, Paki, so I can tell everyone that the Paki slut kissed my ass … literally.” This hurtful jibe pierced through the lust that fogged Shimaila’s brain. “No,” she choked, trying to pull back. The vicious blonde grabbed the pretty Pakistani girl’s head and pushed it between her ass cheeks. “I said kiss it!” she hissed, thrusting her ass back as she pushed Shimaila’s head deeper. The pretty Pakistani girl’s world went dark as her face was enveloped in the large, soft ass cheeks of the cruel white girl. Shimaila was overwhelmed with feelings of lust and revulsion, wanting to fight back against the haughty white bitch who was subjugating her, but overcome by the waves of desire that gripped her. But the erotic sensation of her face being imprisoned in the beautiful white girl’s ass was too strong. Shimaila’s lips puckered and she gently kissed Tiffany on her asshole. “Oh God!” the blonde moaned, obviously aroused with power. “She did it! I can’t believe the little Paki slut actually did it!” The pressure on the back of Shimaila’s head intensified. “Again!” Tiffany urged. “Do it again!” Overcome by lust, Shimaila responded, ardently pressing her lips against the arrogant blonde’s anus. Crazed with desire, the pretty Pakistani extended her tongue and began passionately rimming the white girl’s tightly puckered asshole. “Oh, you little *slut*!” Tiffany cooed, grinding her ass harder against the pretty Pakistani’s entrapped face. “You dirty little perverted *slut*!” Shimaila didn’t care. She didn’t care if she turned out to be a lesbian. She didn’t care about the degradation of kissing the arrogant white bitch’s ass. All she cared about was the overwhelming sense of arousal that had taken command of her body. “Please,” Shimaila gasped, lifting her flushed face from between the white girl’s ass cheeks. “Please, let us get down from the ladder. Let us enjoy one another’s bodies!” She reached up to stroke the haughty white girl’s slit and found it swollen and moist. “What?!?” Tiffany laughed. “You wanna have sex? You?!? With me?!?” Peals of raucous, malicious laughter rang against the poor Pakistani girl’s burning ears. “I’ve let women go down on me before,” Tiffany admitted, “when it served my purpose. But you? A dirty, perverted Paki? You don’t deserve to taste my exquisite pussy! And I sure as hell am not going anywhere near your nasty, diseased gash!” Shimaila’s face burned with embarrassment and tears of humiliation welled in her eyes. “There *is* one thing you *are* very well suited for,” Tiffany chuckled, forcing the pretty Pakistani girl’s head back between her the pale, round globes of her ass. “Eat my ass, Paki!” Tiffany snarled. “Eat it real good!” Sobbing with humiliation, Shimaila complied. She pushed her tongue up the haughty blonde’s shit chute, probing deeply as she heard Tiffany moan in pleasure. “Oh, that’s good,” the blonde groaned, sliding a hand down the front of her thong to finger herself. “Who knew it could be such a turn-on to get your ass licked by a perverted black lez?” Tiffany balanced precariously on the ladder; with one hand pleasuring herself and the other forcing Shimaila’s face deeply into her pale ass, she was unable to hold onto anything to ensure her balance. “Here’s a little Christmas gift,” the haughty blonde laughed, forcing Shimaila’s face deeper into her ass as she gave a strained grunt. Tiffany farted. Not just a discrete little burp of a fart, either. The bitchy blonde let loose with a huge, long, hot fart that burned wetly against the pretty Pakistani girl’s face and forced its way into her mouth and nose and down her throat. Shimaila gagged and tried to pull away, but the cruel blonde had a firm grip on the back of her head, not allowing escape. The pretty Pakistani girl tried to scream as the noxious gas filled her lungs and permeated her being. Tiffany continued to hold her victim’s head captive as her wide-open asshole continued to expel a rush of gas into her unwilling victim’s face. The pretty Pakistani girl’s head was spinning and she saw stars. “I’m dying!’ she thought. “Tiffany is going to poison me with her foul, toxic ass-gas!” She felt her legs go weak and she clawed at the white girl’s hips for support. But her nerveless fingers found none. The ass-tainted methane overwhelmed the Pakistani girl’s senses and she passed out, falling from the ladder. Losing consciousness as she fell, Shimaila saw Tiffany, unable to free her hands from her own panties or to let go of the fainting girl’s head in time, lose her precarious perch on the ladder and, with a horrified shriek, begin falling. “Good!’ thought Shimaila, as darkness closed over her. “At least that arrogant white bitch will die, too!” * * * * * Consciousness came slowly, along with the foul smell of ass that seemed to have seeped inside her and taken residence. Gagging and retching, Shimaila turned on her side and vomited. Mind still reeling, she finally recognized her surroundings: She was in the Mal-Mart, lying amid the Styrofoam wreckage of the igloo display. How had she gotten there? What had happened? “Oh yeah,” she murmured, groggily. “Must have been when I fell off the ladder.” Damn, how lucky was it that the display had broken her fall?!? Memories returned and she burned with shame as she recalled her perverse subjugation by the blonde bitch’s ass. “Could I really have done that?” she moaned, in shame. “Could I really have kissed and licked that blonde bitch’s ass?!?” She shuddered in revulsion and wept in humiliation. That bitch, Tiffany! She … Tiffany! Shimaila’s eyes shot open. They’d fallen off the ladder! from about 25 feet up! It was a miracle Shimaila was still alive … had Tiffany …? Shimaila sprang to her feet, her eyes scanning the floor for her co-worker’s bleeding body. But she didn’t see it. “Where …?” she muttered. “About time, you skank!” Shimaila looked around. That had been Tiffany’s voice – there was no mistaking the bitchy tone! But where was the arrogant blonde? The pretty Pakistani looked around, turning in circles. She seemed to be alone. “Up here, Einstein!” Shimaila looked up. There, dangling about 12 feet above the floor, was Tiffany: Hopelessly entangled in the web of Christmas lights she had strung earlier. The attractive blonde looked as if she were faking a skydiving stunt: Arms and legs spread wide as she swayed in the tangle of cords. “Don’t just stand there with your mouth open, you stupid Paki slut!” the entangled blonde snarled. “Get the damned ladder and get me down from here!” Shimaila rushed to fetch the overturned ladder and dragged it back so it stood alongside her dangling co-worker. The pretty Pakistani girl climbed and tried to work the entrapped blonde free. “Ugh!” Shimaila grunted. “You are *really* knotted up here!” She assessed the situation. The majority of the tangled cords were wrapped around Tiffany’s extremities -- her wrists, shoulders, and ankles – with a few more wrapped around her thighs, waist, and chest. While the dangling blonde did sport some nasty cord-burns, she seemed remarkably unharmed. “Quit gawking and get me down!” Tiffany demanded. Shimaila hurried to try and free her. Tiffany did not appear particularly grateful. “Hurry up, Paki!” she sneered. “Maybe I’ll let you kiss my ass some more, if you do a good job and get me down quickly!” Shimaila’s face burned with shame. Tiffany remembered. What an ungrateful bitch! Shimaila succeeded in removing the cords from Tiffany’s chest, waist, and thighs. “Would you like that, Paki?” Tiffany goaded, not letting up. “Would you like to push your tongue up my asshole again?” Shimaila stopped and regarded the entangled blonde. A cold, burning point of pure hatred flared inside of her. “If I get you down,” Shimaila stated, “you are never to speak of that again, understood?” The cruel blonde laughed. “Never speak of it again?” she asked, in astonishment. “Never tell anyone what a filthy little lez you are? How you kissed my *ass*? How you were so perverted that you actually tongued my *asshole*?!?” Tiffany’s cruel laugh rang in the pretty Pakistani girls’ burning ears. “What makes you think I will help you down, when you are such a bitch?” Shimaila demanded, frowning and fighting back tears. Tiffany smiled confidently. “Because if you don’t, I won’t limit myself to the truth. I’ll tell them you were such a pervert that you sucked shit right out of my asshole! I’ll tell them you played with yourself as you ate my shit!” Shimaila burned with humiliation and anger. That bitch! “But …,” the pretty Pakistani thought, “Tiffany would do exactly that, if crossed.” Would anyone believe the arrogant bitch? With a stab of despair, Shimaila realized they would. Every one of them would take Tiffany’s lurid fabrications as gospel, believing them over an immigrant Pakistani girl’s protests of innocence. What was there to do except give in … to let Tiffany win? Again. Shimaila regarded the cruel blonde, dangling in front of her, and her resentment and hatred flared white hot. “Looks as if you’ve got me,” Shimaila sighed, in resignation. “You win. Just like you always do.” The blonde’s smug smile made Shimaila’s bile rise. Even bound and helpless, the blonde snake was able to evade harm and hurt her. Shimaila glared at the bound blonde, angrily. Tiffany seemed *really* wrapped up in the tangled light cords … totally helpless. Soon, Shimaila knew, she would free the bitchy white girl. “But not before you get a taste of what it’s like to be degraded and humiliated,” she hissed. Still standing at the base of the ladder, she shucked off her panties, pulling the white cotton fabric down over her firm, dark thighs. “What’re you going to do, Paki?” the trussed blonde sneered. “Strip for me? Do a little dance for me? Only trouble is: I’m not a lez, like you. You can’t seduce me like I seduced you.” Shimaila climbed up the ladder to Tiffany’s level. “I don’t have to seduce you,” the pretty Pakistani girl whispered, softly. “You’re tied up and helpless – trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey!” Shimaila smiled, stroking the blonde’s lovely face as she watched the little color the white girl had drain out of her. “You can’t!” Tiffany gasped, eyes wide with horror and mouth agape. “You wouldn’t!” Shimaila smiled and hiked up the hem of her own skirt, thrusting out her own firm, dark ass. Turning, she jutted her ass gently against the blonde’s face. “Ewww!” Tiffany tried to recoil in revulsion, but dangling as she was by the cords of lights, she had no traction. Shimaila maneuvered the suspended blonde’s face into her dark, moist ass crack. She saw the white girl’s body stiffen with horror, before it thrashed wildly, trying to escape. But the hapless blonde’s efforts only entangled her further. “You like that, white girl?” Shimaila mocked, crushing the blonde’s face into her pert, brown ass. “You like having your face in my ass?” The pretty Pakistani girl felt hot tears of indignation and humiliation drip between the white girl’s cheeks and her own ass cheeks. “Yeah,” Shimaila murmured, feeling herself grow moist. “Cry for me, white girl! Let me feel your tears! Are you sorry for what you did to me? Yeah, I’ll bet you’re sorry now, aren’t you?!?” She ground her ass against the suspended blonde’s face, gratified to feel a moan of revulsion that was all but smothered inside her ass. “You wanna kiss my ass, white girl?” Shimaila asked, conversationally. She felt the blonde shake her head violently in negation. “I’ll bet you do,” the pretty Pakistani purred. “Go ahead, Tiffany … kiss my lovely, brown ass.” The blonde was convulsed with sobbing, but Shimaila felt no kissing on her nether regions. Annoyed, the pretty Pakistani girl released the white girl’s face from her ass and turned to grab a hold of the dangling blonde. Shimaila formed a loop with a nearby cord of lights and wrapped it tightly around the bound blonde’s throat. “Are you going to kiss my ass?” Shimaila asked, deftly worrying a knot of cord around the blonde’s right ankle. The pressure eased slightly; as did the support the tangle had provided. Shimaila watched in satisfaction as the cord tightened around the white girl’s throat. The blonde’s eyes widened in abject terror as she realized what was happening. “No!” Tiffany choked. “You … you’d really do it, wouldn’t you! Please! No! Don’t … don’t let me hang!” Tears flowed down her lovely face. “I’ll … I’ll do whatever you want!” “Yes,” Shimaila cooed softly, “I know you will.” Turning, the pretty Pakistani girl again pushed her pert, brown ass into the white girl’s face. This time, there was no hesitation – Shimaila sighed as she felt the press of full, pouty lips lightly kissing all over along the inside of her ass cheeks. The lips finally settled on Shimaila’s sensitive anus. The pretty Pakistani girl’s legs trembled as she felt the entrapped white girl’s lips press firmly against her tightly puckered, brown asshole. “Oh FUCK!” Shimaila thought, gasping at the electric jolt of pleasure that ran through her. The feel of the beautiful blonde’s lips pressed enthusiastically against her asshole felt so … so … So perverted! So dirty! So nasty! So … “… good!” Shimaila murmured, reaching back to press the weeping white beauty’s face in even more firmly. Is this what Tiffany had experienced when Shimaila had succumbed to her own lusts? “I love this,” Shimaila murmured, grinding gently on the blonde’s face. “I absolutely love this!” It felt unreal – the most beautiful, popular girl in the store … and Shimaila had the girl’s face wedged deeply up her ass! Slowly, the pretty Pakistani girl’s hand crept down to her own dark bush and her fingers snaked between her slick, swollen labia. “No wonder Tiffany hadn’t been able to keep her hands out of her pants!” Shimaila smiled, thrilling at the debauched pleasure she felt. “I’ve never felt so confident … so in control!” “You are mine,” she whispered, luxuriating in the sensations of having her ass worshiped by the beautiful blonde. Shimaila opened her eyes, in sudden realization. Tiffany *was* hers! Hers with which to do whatever she wanted! Shimaila slowly … reluctantly … pulled her ass from the white girl’s face. Tiffany’s pale features were still achingly lovely, in spite of her reddened eyes, smeared make-up, and tear-streaked face. Shaimaila went to the washroom and dampened some paper towels, then returned to gently cleanse the bound girl’s face. Tiffany looked at her with grateful, but questioning eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Shh!” Shimaila whispered. “Don’t talk.” She sat on a ladder rung so her face was on the same level as the suspended blonde’s. The pretty Pakistani girl took the white girl’s face tenderly in both hands and gently pulled her forward, until their lips met. Shimaila felt the suspended girl’s body tense, momentarily, but slowly give in to the sensual kiss. Tiffany’s beautiful, full lips parted, allowing the pretty Pakistani’s tongue to slide inside and explore the moist recesses of her mouth. The entangled white girl moaned and Shimaila smiled as she continued to dominate the blonde beauty’s mouth. Never breaking the seal she had on the white girl’s lips, the pretty Pakistani reached under and slowly began unbuttoning Tiffany’s blouse. At this angle, the white fabric was stretched thin as it tried to support the weight of the white girl’s torso as well as contain the blonde’s bounteous breasts. As Shimaila undid the second button, gravity won and the next four buttons popped in rapid succession, allowing the white girl’s large bra-clad mammaries to bounce out. Shimaila suppressed a smile as she continued removing Tiffany’s blouse and reaching up to unclasp her bra. The bra fell away and the blonde’s heavy melons swung free, dangling heavily from the suspended girl’s chest. Shimaila stroked and fondled Tiffany’s big boobs, smiling as the white girl’s large, pink nipples hardened gratifyingly under the Pakistani girl’s dark, insistent hands. Tiffany gave a low moan of pleasure, which was lost in Shimaila’s enveloping kiss. The Pakistani girl slowly stripped the suspended white girl, tearing fabric where the cords were too binding. The thong panties were easy, sporting side ties that came easily undone. Then she continued her kiss. The pretty Pakistani girl dominated the aroused white woman for several minutes with her sensual kiss. Tiffany gasped as Shimaila finally broke their kiss and looked longingly at the pretty Pakistani, who descended the ladder to admire the view of the lovely, nude blonde, dangling in the air above her head, like some giant white bird. Shimaila smiled broadly and trotted off to the pharmacy area, but soon returned, carrying several packages. At the base of the ladder, she opened two plastic-wrapped boxes labeled “Personal Vibrator.” She popped batteries in each and climbed the ladder. Tiffany was looking at her dully, with mild apprehension. “What … what are you going to …?” Without warning, Shimaila reached up and pushed the side of the suspended white girl’s head, sending her gently spinning … rotating. When Tiffany’s feet faced her, the pretty Pakistani gently halted the blonde’s spin. Tiffany strained feebly, but was too tightly entangled to even affect her own motion. “I want you to feel good for what’s coming next,” Shimaila murmured, gently tracing the tip of the large vibrator along the white girl’s exposed, blonde-thatched slit. She smiled as she saw the vibrator’s fat tip part Tiffany’s slick, glistening cunt lips. “That excites you, doesn’t it,” the pretty Pakistani whispered, teasing the dangling blonde with the vibrator. “You like being tied up and penetrated, don’t you, Tiffany? You like being dominated by a dirty, filthy, ‘Paki,’ don’t you!” To her surprise, she heard the bound blonde whisper a response, barely audible. “Yes!” “What was that?” Shimaila asked, pausing her molestation, unsure if she’d really heard what she thought she’d heard. “I didn’t quite hear that, Tiffany.” The blonde girl convulsed with sobbing. “I said ‘Yes,’” Tiffany cried, her entire pale body flushing in humiliation. “I … I like being dominated by you.” Shimaila smiled, slowly. She pushed the vibrator all the way up the blonde’s dripping pussy, then deftly removed it and slid the now lubricated dildo up the white girl’s ass. “Aaaaaahhh!” Tiffany gasped, her sphincter tightening involuntarily on the intruding object as she arched her back in shock. Shimaila grinned and left the vibrator jammed up the bound girl’s anus. Removing the other vibrator from its box, she slowly slid that one up the blonde’s hungry vaginal hole. “Uhhhhh!” Tiffany grunted, her body straining in its bonds. Shaimaila took her own cotton panties and tried to tug them over the white girl’s thick thighs and wide hips. But the tangle of cords around Tiffany’s ankles made that impossible. Shaimaila took a box-cutter and slashed the sides of her panties, then tied them around the white girl like a diaper. It was tough going, since the pretty Pakistani was much more petite than the voluptuous blonde, who threatened to burst out of the now-overstuffed cotton panties at any second. But finally, Shimaila got them secured. Moving the band of cloth between Tiffany’s legs just enough to plant a light kiss on the blonde’s fevered pussy, Shimaila replaced the panty fabric and quickly flicked the switches on the base of both vibrators. The effect was, if you’ll excuse the pun, electric. The white girl’s body went rigid as the whirring vibrators took control of her senses. The too-tight panties effectively prevented the vibrators from being worked loose or ejected. The entangled blonde seemed paralyzed with pleasure, quivering as she hung in the cords. Shimaila slowly twirled the suspended white girl around so that her head was facing her again. The pretty Pakistani cupped the dazed blonde’s chin and raised the white girl’s head. “You like that, don’t you,” Shimaila said. It was a statement, more than a question. “Y-y-y-y-yeh-yes,” Tiffany stammered, a rivulet of drool escaping from the corner of her mouth. “Oh G-g-g-god, y-y-y-yeh-yeh-yes!” Shimaila smiled. “Show me,” she whispered. She climbed up a few steps. Bracing herself on the ladder, she pulled the suspended white girl forward, pressing the beautiful blonde’s face into her own, dark, moist pussy. “Show me how much you like it!” Without prompting or coercion, she felt the lust-crazed white girl bury her lovely face in Shimaila’s dark, aromatic muff and begin feverishly lapping the Pakistani girl. Shimaila moaned in pleasure. Was this really happening? Was she really getting eaten by this beautiful white girl? Grabbing the bound blonde by her ears, the pretty Pakistani began rubbing herself lustily against the helpless white girl’s face. Soon, there wasn’t an inch of Tiffany’s beautiful, pale features that wasn’t coated with Shimaila’s thick, fragrant juices. For her part, Tiffany’s body seemed to be hinged at the waist: The white girl’s upper body and lower body were jerking and rotating like a marionette controlled by an epileptic, but moving in completely independent directions. She was giving a low, non-stop, guttural groan which in no way impeded her oral attentions to the pretty Pakistani’s pussy. Shimaila felt Tiffany scream into her cunt, as the entangled white girl convulsed in orgasm. The pretty Pakistani ignored her victim’s climax and, keeping a firm grasp on both Tiffany’s ears, continued to fuck the beautiful blonde’s face, concentrating on her own pleasure. The white girl’s body was actually vibrating, wracked by one climax after another. Her pale legs were rigid and wide-spread, as were both arms. Shimaila could feel the blonde’s mouth, drooling wetly into her dark pussy as she continued to sadistically pound the white girl’s face with her own quivering pelvis. Tiffany could only whimper mindlessly, as Shimaila climaxed. The pretty Pakistani girl screamed out loud as she cruelly ground the white girl’s face against her spasming pussy. “Oh fuck!” Shimaila gasped. “Oh *fuck* yes!” She bobbed the dangling white girl’s head up and down as she continued to rub herself on the dazed blonde’s face. After what seemed an eternity of ecstasy, Shimaila reluctantly let go of the bound blonde and let her swing free. The pretty Pakistani lay back against the ladder, gasping for breath as the swaying blonde continued to grunt in non-stop orgasm. “God, that was good,” Shimaila murmured, reveling in the ebbing pleasure and growing afterglow. Good? That was the absolute best climax she had *ever* achieved. And she had done it with Tiffany. To Tiffany. “Tiffany …” Shimaila murmured, closing her eyes and smiling. Had she really done it? Had she really seduced, dominated, and fucked the most beautiful and most popular girl in town? * * * * * Shimaila awoke, groggy, but sated. Her pussy had never felt so satisfied! She looked around. She was naked, lying on the floor, but unharmed. The cold tile had finally been uncomfortable enough to awaken her. “How in the world did I get down from the ladder?” she wondered. “I must have climbed down and passed out.” God, but that orgasm had been fantastic! It must have been so powerful that it had caused her to lose consciousness, afterwards! How long had she been out? Shimaila looked at her watch. It was a little past 3:45 a.m. The store had closed its doors at 9, to prepare for Black Friday … the weird sex play had started about a half an hour to an hour later … “I’ve probably been out for at least five hours,” Shimaila realized. “Maybe longer!” But it had been worth it! Five hours?!? With a start, she remembered Tiffany. Looking up, Shimaila felt her heart tighten with apprehension. The beautiful blonde still dangled overhead, entangled by the Christmas light strings. The crotch of her panties was stained with cunt juice, which dripped slowly from the middle of the dark patch as if from a stalactite in a cave. The white girl’s body twitched periodically, still suspended about 12 feet in the air. Her lovely features were lax, as she stared vacantly down at the tiled floor. Tiffany drooled continuously, through her full, slightly parted, sensual lips. Shimaila hurried up the ladder. “Tiffany?” she said, shaking the burned-out white girl gently. “Tiffany? Are you OK? Can you hear me?” There was no response from the drooling vegetable hanging in front of her. With growing dread, Shimaila realized that Tiffany was gone. “I guess five hours of non-stop orgasm would fry anyone,” the pretty Pakistani thought, ruefully. But, what to do,now, she wondered, a growing feeling of panic overtaking her. She’d go to jail for sure if anyone found out! “I have to make sure no one connects me with this,” Shimaila decided. She stripped her panties off the comatose white girl, taking a moment to hold them to her nose and inhale deeply. “Such a pity …” she sighed, with a shudder of arousal. Shimaila descended the ladder and punched out her time card. She spent the next two hours cleaning up, finishing the North Pole scenery, and wiping down any surface that might have a sticky fingerprint. Finally, she went up the ladder again. She replaced the blonde’s thong panties, re-securing the still-whirring vibrators, but making certain she didn’t leave any sticky fingerprints on the exposed plastic. She caressed the beautiful vegetable’s lovely face and gently kissed her slack lips. “I’m sorry, Tiffany,” she whispered, loosening the knotted cords around both of the white girl’s ankles. "All I can do now is release you." The blonde’s feet swung free as the loop of cord around the beautiful white girl’s throat took the extra weight. Shimaila slowly climbed down from the ladder, weeping. * * * * * * The next morning, the crowds began gathering at 6 for the 7 a.m. opening. The assistant manager arrived promptly at 7 and worked his way through the throngs. “OK! OK!” he shouted. “Let me through and I’ll unlock the doors!” The crowd slowly parted and he fumbled with a big ring of keys. When he finally got the doors unlocked, the crowd burst through like a cracked dam! The mob rushed into the store, ready to indulge in serious consumerism, but stopped short, once they got inside. There, hanging amid a web of lit Christmas lights, was the body of a beautiful, almost-nude blonde – arms outstretched as if in a mocking parody of a crucifixion. The newspapers would hypothesize suicide and/or erotic asphyxiation. Shimaila remained silent in the ensuing days, refusing to join in the base speculation and gossip, but longingly recalling the sensation of the beautiful white girl’s tongue on her ass and pussy.