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From: Joy Paine <joypaine@yahoo.com>
Subject: repost: Betrayed Beauty, Chapters 1-4
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Betrayed Beauty, Chapters 1-4 NC M/F tort
by Joy Paine
If you are under legal age, please do not read further. This story is
not for you.
This is another story in which the characters exist only in
imagination, and have no intentional resemblance to any person, living
or dead, except one--the author likes to picture himself in the shoes
of one or more of the characters.
BETRAYED BEAUTY 1
The red faced man--the fat one--spoke. He had a voice like a cement
mixer.
"The broad's finally waking up. Can I start working on her now?"
The other man held up a well-manicured hand in a gesture of restraint.
"I can understand your impatience, my friend, especially with a prize
like this one. But I'd appreciate it if you could wait just another
minute or so. It'll make a far better show if she's fully conscious
from the very beginning. And I honestly believe that it'll be more
fun for you, too.
"This should help to get things going."
He held something under the captive girl's nose, waving it from side
to side. She coughed as the pungent fumes warmed her lungs, then sat
up with a jerk.
Gradually, she blinked away the lingering effects of the sedative, and
looked around her. She was alone with the two men in a windowless
room, empty except for a desk against one wall. And a mattress on the
floor in the middle of the room. The lighting was bright--painfully
so to her unaccustomed eyes.
"What--where am I?" she faltered. The fat man chuckled evilly.
"Right here, baby. Where we can have a lot of fun without being
interrupted."
Fear formed a hard knot at the base of her stomach. "Please--" she
began.
"No use trying to talk me out of it, honey. It isn't every day that I
get the chance to screw a real live beauty queen."
And there it was, right out in the open. He was going to rape her.
And there wasn't a thing in the world she could do to stop him. Or
them, she corrected herself. There was very little chance that the
other man would let her go without demanding his pound of flesh, too.
And there was something about his face--those cruel eyes--that made
him infinitely more terrifying than the fat man, however revolting the
latter might be.
The fat man was a pig, pure and simple. The other was a wolf, or
perhaps a weasel.
She couldn't stop them, but she had to try. She'd fight every inch of
the way, she vowed grimly. But meanwhile...
"Please," she sobbed. "I've never done it with anybody."
The fat man's eyes lighted up. "Virgin, hey? Been saving it up for me,
like a good little girl, have you? Well, that doesn't have to bother
us much. I'll just relieve you of that piece of tissue, and then we
can settle down for some good old-fashioned fun."
"No--please," she sobbed. "I'll do anything you want."
He licked his lips. "Anything?" he mimicked her. A ray of hope.
Maybe she could humor him, postpone the inevitable for a short time,
at least. "Anything," she promised.
"Well, now, that opens up some interesting possibilities. Re-eal
interesting ones." He knelt beside her, cupped her chin in his hand,
forcing her to look him in the eye. His breath smelled like whiskey,
and she almost retched.
"Tell me, baby, have you ever Frenched a man?"
"F-f-frenched?" She knew what the word meant, but she could hot accept
the reality of his nauseating implication.
"French. Head. A blow job. Fellatio, if you insist on the
ten-dollar word."
She swallowed hard. "N-no," she murmured.
"So your mouth is cherry, too. OK, here's the proposition. You blow
me, and if you do a good job--a real good job--I'll let you keep your
panties on. If I'm not satisfied in every way with your performance,
we'll go the whole route."
The devil and the deep blue sea. Both alternatives were disgusting,
but there were other factors to consider. If she accepted his
revolting proposal, at least there wouldn't be the permanent physical
evidence of her degradation. Her mouth was cherry, yes, but that
meant only lack of experience. No piece of tissue would be torn if
she Frenched him. She could still go to her wedding night as
technically a virgin. If she ever wanted anything to do with men
after this, she thought bitterly. And she would avoid any risk of
pregnancy.
She nodded her acquiescence, eyes lowered, not trusting her voice to
reply.
She knew that he could easily break his word. He could take all the
pleasure she would give him voluntarily, and then rape her anyway,
laughing at her gullibility. But it was still worth a try.
He squeezed her chin painfully. "Look at me when I talk to you,
cunt," he snarled. "And get what I say. If I'm going to let you off,
it'll only be for a first-class blow job, see? With all the
trimmings. You'll do what I say, and you'll do it like I say, and
you'll do it with a smile on your face, just as if you loved every
minute of it. Got that? Now, let's see you smile."
She managed somehow to turn up the corners of her mouth in a travesty
of a smile. Evidently it satisfied him. as he released the painful
grip on her chin.
"That's better, doll. Now let's have a practice run. Stand up and
kiss me. And keep smiling, or else."
She struggled to her feet.
And that's when she realized that her miniskirt was up above her hips.
Way up, and tucked into the waistband of her pantyhose.
Beauty 2
While she had been talking to them, the men had been looking at her
legs, way up to the crotch.
She gasped, and whirled away from their gaze, her face a fiery red.
The fat man's palm exploded across her ass, bringing tears to her eyes.
"OK, bitch", he rasped. "You just lost round one. And there's only
going to be one more round.
One more chance--that's all you get. You keep that smile on your
goddamned face, and follow
orders, whatever happens. Whatever happens," he repeated
emphatically. "Now have you got
that through your thick little skull?"
She nodded, still keeping her back to him.
"Now let's see that smile when you turn around. And your kiss better
be an award winner. Put
lots of tongue into it, and press that soft body nice and tight
against me. And keep smiling.
Remember, cunt, you're on your last chance from now on. No--leave
your dress just like it is,
and turn around. And smile, damn you."
Slowly, she turned to face him. Her cheeks flaming, she somehow
managed to produce the
smile that he demanded. His gaze dwelled on her thighs, increasing
her embarrassment, but her
forced smile didn't falter. To someone who didn't know of her
predicament, the smile could have
seemed spontaneous--the glow in her cheeks could have been the result
of a healthy young
excitement...
Gathering her resolve, she stepped up to him, pressed her firm breasts
and belly against his
flabby body. The hardness of his aroused passion. heightened her
disgust, but she steeled
herself to go through with it. Her lips went to his...
He cleared his throat noisily, so that her tongue, as he sucked it
hungrily into his mouth,
wallowed in a wad of phlegm. Holding her with his hand twined in her
hair, he forced the
disgusting mass into her mouth with his tongue, then pinched her lips
together.
"Swallow it, baby--all of it. It's my first gift to you. There'll be
something else for you to swallow
later, and this will be good clean practice. And keep smiling," he
reminded her.
His hands roughly explored her body for a few moments, then fell away.
Determinedly, she
maintained the grimace that passed for a smile.
"Now take off your pantyhose. Don't worry--I'm not breaking our
bargain. You can keep the
bikini on."
She blushed again at the reminder that he had been examining her while
she was unconscious,
knew that he was familiar with her underwear, and probably with her
body as well. He might
even have verified her virginity. If indeed she was still a virgin.
There was no telling what these
monsters might have done to her while she lay helpless and
unconscious. But surely, she told
herself, she would be sore from the violation if they had actually
"had their way with her", as the
old melodramas so delicately put it.
She forced her mind away from such dangerous subjects. She could
easily go crazy that way.
Besides, a perverse imp inside her whispered, men like these wouldn't
waste the chance to make
a girl savor every moment of her defloration. Fat consolation! she
thought.
Slowly, she worked the pantyhose down over her hips, trying
desperately to smooth her skirt in
their wake, to salvage as much of her modesty as possible from the
men's burning stares. She
shucked the garment down to her ankles, slipped pantyhose and shoes
off in a single motion.
Her smile was just a little less strained, now that her miniskirt had
fallen back into place.
"OK, kid, you can relax the smile for a moment. Here's the script for
your performance. I don't
want anything to take you by surprise and give you an excuse to stop
smiling."
She sank, bit by bit, into a deep pit of shame as he explained in
minute detail exactly what he
expected of her. Step by step, right up to the ultimate degradation.
No, she reminded herself,
the penultimate degradation. She had made her choice, and her
self-respect--her very sanity--
depended on continuing to convince herself that her decision had been
the right one. That she
had chosen the lesser of two unbearable evils.
BEAUTY 3
Sometime during the ordeal, the thin man--the evil one- had left the
room. Unobtrusively,
silently, a shadow fading before the sun. He had not spoken during
the entire episode, and he
had not touched her, and now he was gone. She wondered if he had
really existed, or whether
he was a figment of her own overworked imagination.
But he really did exist, her reason protested. It was he who had
trapped her into this situation.
Her thoughts went back...
She had been pretty cocky, she thought ruefully. Cocky and hopelessly
naive. A girl from a hick
town who had won the local beauty contest, and with it the right to
represent her town in the
pageant at the state capital. It was the first time she had ever been
so far away from home, and
she was overwhelmed by the Big Town. Overwhelmed and unfamiliar with
its ways. She was
understandably caught off guard when the man approached her in the
hotel corridor. He spoke
in a cultured voice.
"Hello--I'm from the local radio station. Would you mind giving me a
short interview--a little
personal interest story for the folks back home?" He carried a
portable tape recorder, and held a
microphone before her face.
Flattered, she put on her best smile, and nodded graciously. "Why
sure, I'd be delighted."
The man frowned. "The noise level is higher here than I thought.
Would you mind stepping
through here, so we can shut out the noise a bit?"
Even from a small town, she had enough sense not to go into
a hotel room with a strange man. But the door led to a loading
platform of some sort, behind the
hotel. Unsuspecting, she followed him through the door, as he held it
open for her.
He wasted no time. A quick glance around to see that no-one was
looking, a fast jab to the solar
plexus, an unceremonious shove into the waiting panel truck, and a
needle in the arm as she
gasped helplessly.
And that was that. She was a plucked duck.
Which brought her down to the present, and the nauseating little drama
that the fat man was
forcing upon her.
"I'll cue you on every move," he reminded her, "so you won't have to
worry about remembering
even this simple script. All you have to do is follow orders--and keep
that goddamn smile on your
pretty kisser. Beginning now!"
Obediently, she put on the stereotyped smile again, and went through
her paces, moving with
the exaggerated grace of a stage performer, as he had demanded. One
or two times, she almost
faltered, but the consequences of rebellion were clear in her
imagination, and she forced herself
to go through with the humiliation and degradation without visibly
losing her composure.
She began with a pirouette as he instructed, her bare feet moving
gracefully, her miniskirt flaring
out from her hips, giving a tantalizing view of tanned thighs and lacy
bikini. She ended facing
him, with a slight bow. Then she started unbuttoning her blouse.
Slowly drawing the garment over her shoulders, she folded it
carefully, handing it to the man with
a flourish and a light kiss. While he laid the blouse on the desk,
she removed his shirt, slinging it
carelessly to the side of the room, then danced away, an enchanting
figure in miniskirt and
abbreviated brassiere. She came back to him, rubbed her body against
his, fingered and
tongued his nipples for a moment, then whirled away again.
Unfastening the zipper on her miniskirt, she slowly drew the garment
down over her hips, acutely
aware of the inadequacy of her bikini, which had been designed to be
worn under pantyhose, to
meet the needs of hygiene rather than modesty. Again she folded the
garment she had
removed, and handed it to him with a kiss. Then she set about
unfastening his trousers.
She almost lost control for a moment, letting them fall to his ankles,
hiding her disgust at his
bulging masculinity with an unscheduled pirouette. By the time she
had finished the turn, she
had recovered her smile.
Annoyed, the man kicked his pants off the rest of the way, taking off
shoes and socks at the
same time.
"Let's skip the ad libs and stick to the script, sweetie," he barked.
"Just for that, come here and
put your hand on it."
Reluctantly, steeling herself, she reached into his undershorts and
fondled the repulsive thing,
complying at the same time with his instructions to caress his nipples
again with her tongue and
the fingers of her free hand. Then the command she had been dreading.
"OK, cunt. Now the brazeer."
Dancing back to the center of the room, she stood for a moment while
she gathered her resolve,
her shoulders thrown back, emphasizing the womanly swelling of her
young body. Then she
reached back and unhooked her bra, shrugging out of the shoulder straps.
As it fell to the floor, she cupped her hands instinctively over her
breasts, shielding them for one
precious instant more. Her fixed smile made the gesture seem coy.
Then, at his command, she
slowly lowered her hands...
Beauty 4
He made her stand for a long moment with her glorious mounds starkly
revealed to his lecherous
stare, having her cup them from below, holding them slightly up and
forward, in a pose of
sensuous invitation.
"That's great, doll," he breathed. "Now bring them over here, so I
can pinch them while you're
taking off my shorts."
Mechanically, she walked toward him, endured his touch while she
unsnapped his shorts, slid
them over his hips and past that disgusting impatient monster, and let
them fall to the floor.
He teased her nipples with his fingers until they became erect against
her will, squeezed her
breasts hard enough to make her cry out in protest. Then he sank to
the mattress, drawing her
with him, his hands tangled in her hair, guiding her head into Hell.
"One last warning, Baby," he growled. "That's precious stuff you'll
be tasting, and I want you to
swallow it all. Every drop. You spill one drop, and I'll screw you.
Spill two drops, and I'll fuck
you in the ass besides. Do you understand?"
She didn't reply. She had been taught not to talk while her mouth was
full.
No matter how he tried to prolong the blissful experience, the man
couldn't hold out for long. His
body began to twitch, then stiffened and erupted in a spasm of
delight. Although she nearly
choked on the foul stuff, the girl remembered his threat, and kept her
lips sealed around the
shameful shaft, while her body racked with sobs and suppressed coughs.
She almost vomited,
but somehow managed to choke down the revolting mass. Time enough to
be sick later.
She withdrew her mouth ever so carefully, keeping her lips tightly
wrapped around him, milking
the last disgusting drop.
Unable to control her heaving stomach any longer, she tensed herself
to run to the side of the
room, to search desperately for some means to relieve herself. But
even this release was to be
denied.
A hand came swiftly from behind her, plastered a large square of
adhesive tape over her lips,
cutting off the catharsis that nausea demanded. Before she could tear
the tape loose, her
wrists were seized in a painful grip, her arms twisted behind her and
pinioned there while a pair
of handcuffs was snapped into place.
While she had been preoccupied with servicing the fat man, the tall
one had come quietly back
into the room, preparing the gag and manacles that would prolong her
ordeal. Holding her firmly
with one hand, he gathered a large sheaf of her hair into an untidy
pony-tail, wound it with a
length of wire to which a long rope was fashioned. He pulled
agonizingly on the wire to make
sure that it wouldn't come loose; then he threw the standing part of
the rope over a hook that
hung down from the ceiling.
She had no choice but to get to her feet as he hauled on the rope. It
was either stand up or be
lifted up by the hair. He drew the rope just tight enough to hold her
erect, then made the end fast
to a peg in the wall.
He completed her immobilization by strapping her ankles to a pair of
rings in the floor, holding
her legs widely spread. She could still move her hips from side to
side, but that was just about all
the latitude for motion that remained.
Then he spoke for the first time--to the fat man, who had been putting
on her clothes.
"Thanks for the help, pal."
The fat man grinned. "Any time--any time at all. I loved every minute
of it. How did the pictures
come out?"
The girl's breath caught in her throat. Pictures? What deviltry had
these monsters been up to?
"Everything's A-OK," was the reply. "You're immortalized on tape,
although your own mother
wouldn't recognize you with that wig and false eyebrows. But the broad
came through loud and
clear. Right from the moment when she started taking it off, up to the
final suck. Video tape in
brilliant life-like color, as the ads say. In the meantime, here are a
few Polaroid shots I took along
the way. Smile, Honey--you're on candid camera."
He thrust the photos before her, making her gorge rise again as she
relived those nauseating
moments. "And the best of it is," he continued, "that you're obviously
doing it all of your own free
will. Nobody's holding a gun to your head, and your co-ordination is
too good to be drunk or
drugged. And you're smiling every minute.
"Obviously a natural-born cocksucker," he went on happily.
--
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