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From: "Jenny Lee" <laktowngirl@hotmail.com>
Subject: A Pool Hall Story (FM, bd, sm, strip pool, femdom)
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Additional stories I've written are available on my webapage.
http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Coffeehouse/1852/
A Pool Hall Story
Jenny just loved the pool hall. Something about the mathematical
precision of the balls moving around the table obeying the immutable
laws of physics but sometimes (usually at the most unexpected moment)
seemingly obeying the laws of an alternative universe fascinated her.
When good players were playing. especially when something significant
like money or even ego was at stake, Jenny could spend hours watching,
enjoying the game more than a good movie, a new episode of her favorite
sitcom, sometimes even better than sleep!
An unintended side effect of Jenny's pool fascination was that she was
quite good at pool. In the past, many male pool hall regulars had
befriended" Jenny usually with romance not friendship as the ultimate
goal. Jenny had been happy to get lots of free pool lessons in exchange
for letting guys look at her bending over the pool table in tight
outfits. Jenny was good enough to beat 99% of casual players and
sometimes good enough to give even good players a good scare.
More important, like all hustlers, she was adept at judging a player's
skill. From the smoothness of his stroke, the steadiness of his bridge,
and the ways his eyes measured angles and the speed of
the cloth, Jenny judged accurately the power of a player's game and
whether her skill was superior--not determining whether he could be
beaten in a single match for that was the province of the Pool Hall
Gods, but whether she enjoyed a statistical preponderance allowing her
to prevail in the long run.
The combination of Jenny's shooting skill, her ability to judge other
player's skill, her hustler's love for action, and her perverse sense of
humor is where this story begins.
Like many Korean boys accepted to UCLA, Kwok Nam was quite full of
himself. Among FOB Korean girls, the mention of a UCLA acceptance
provided status. You could wear crappy clothes, drive a dumpy car, be
short, and ugly but if you attended UCLA, FOB Korean girls thought you
had a future, maybe as a doctor or lawyer or businessman. Korean girls
would give you some play. You were someone.
Kwok's reality was quite different. He had been accepted to UCLA based
primarily on his high school GPA (3.9) and his raft of extracurricular
activities, but the reality was that although he was smart by normal
standards in the rarefied atmosphere of a top university he was average
at best. This was reflected in his grades, a C+ average. He had told his
parents that he was going to be a doctor and had enrolled in all the
right pre-med classes, but despite hours and hours pounding the books,
he could not get above a C in his pre-med classes. There were just two
many Einsteins at UCLA.
Kwok was actually in a bit of a bind. His proud mother had first told
all the relatives that her son had been accepted to UCLA. Then she had
told them that he was a pre-med. The Uncles and Aunts all talked about
Mrs. Nam's son--the smart one who was going to be a doctor. Kwok knew
that with his grades he would never be able to attend a U.S. medical
school. It looked like Guam or Grenada at best.
Kwok, although he continued to spend his days attending class and
studying hard, was quite depressed. At night, he would lay in bed, stare
at the ceiling, and try to think how he would apprise his parents of his
academic dilemma. Worse than telling his parents would be dealing with
his relatives. For the rest of his life, he would be Kwok- the boy who
tried to be a doctor.
One night while laying in bed staring at the ceiling, feeling depressed,
Kwok's phone rang. It was his friends. They were on the way to the
Baccara to play pool and wanted Kwok to come out. Normally,
Kwok would not go out on weeknight, he was too serious about this
studies, but tonight he was feeling sorry for himself and couldn't
sleep. On an impulse he told his friends to pick him up.
It was typical night at the Baccara and Jenny was bored. The problem
with hanging out at the same pool hall all the time was the same small
cliche of people also hung out there. After a few weeks,everybody knows
everybody else and life gets boring. Jenny was especially piqued
tonight.
Boredom had really set in and Jenny had decided to go out even though it
was a weeknight and she had early morning class. For some unknown
reason, she had taken care to dress up. Rather than the normal jeans and
baby doll top she wore on weeknights, Jenny had gone nine yards with her
ankle length black crepe silk skirt, black GoGo boots, lime green bikini
top, and a half open matching black silk jacket. Now she felt mildly
embarrassed. She had come to the Baccara alone,sat around alone, played
alone, and was now getting ready to go home alone. She would have a dry
cleaning bill for her nice clothing and have to drag herself bleary eyed
out of bed early in the morning. She wouldn't have minded if at least
she had some fun tonight!
At that moment, Kwok and his friends entered the Baccara. At first sight
something about Kwok irked Jenny. Kwok was dressed shabbily, like he had
just risen from bed, tossed on whatever clothes happened to be lying on
the floor and shambled out of the house. Jenny's nose wrinkled as she
imagined that Kwok probably had not showered and smelled foul. Kwok's
UCLA sweatshirt also irritated Jenny. Rather than humility, Kwok's UCLA
t-shirt, in Jenny's mind, was a not too subtle way of putting down the
world.
Because she was thinking these thoughts, she was caught staring at Kwok.
His friends noticed her look, pointed it out to Kwok. Jenny saw them
elbowing each other, whispering obviously lewd comments to each other,
and laughing. Jenny's irritation level rose. How could those losers even
consider the possibility she would be interested in such stuck up trash.
Things got worse. Jenny noticed more animated conversation between Kwok
and her friends. More not-to-sly glances in her direction and, finally,
Kwok moving toward the table where she was practicing.
As Kwok moved across the pool hall, Jenny panicked.
What am I going to do now? How am I going to get rid of this loser.
As Kwok moved closer, Jenny's panic turned to anger.
Why do I care what this loser thinks? Does he think that just because he
has a UCLA sweatshirt on he's somebody. He probably doesn't even go to
UCLA. And look at those sandals. He is wearing his shower shoes as going
out shoes. What a lowlife.
Kwok took up position about 6 feet away from the table where Jenny was
playing and his eyes locked on Jenny waiting for her to look at him and
establish eye contact. Jenny was bent over the table and could feel
Kwok's eyes moving up and down her body. At first Jenny blushed at such
close male scrutiny then she became angrier.
I should teach this guy a lesson.
As Jenny straightened from her shot (which she missed because Kwok's
gaze had flustered her), she looked at Kwok. Kwok said:
Hi my name is Kwok. For a girl, you shoot pretty good. Maybe I can give
you a few tips to improve your game.
Kwok's comment was the final straw. Who was this loser? I could whip his
ass no problem. Jenny decided that she was going to teach this guy a
lesson and no mercy would be given. Jenny straightened up. She looked
Kwok in the eye.
Without saying anything, she first straightened her skirt so that it lay
smoothly over her slim hips. Jenny then slid out of her jacket. Her
torso was revealed clad only in her bikini top. The top was
lime green and worn without a bra. Even though the cups were fully
lined, a noticeable bump appeared where Jenny nipples pushed against the
smooth clingy rayon. The top featured spaghetti straps which went over
her shoulders and another set of straps which tied in back. Between her
breasts was a silver metal ring. She felt cool air whispering around her
shoulders and bare arms and goosebumps appeared her upper arms.
Kwok's mind was racing. As Jenny took off her jacket and revealed her
provocatively clad body, Kwok's eyes dropped from Jenny's face and
locked on her chest. For a moment, momentarily disconnected from the
current situation, thoughts raced through his head. Besides pictures,
Kwok had only seen two woman's breasts. His first girlfriend in high
school and a girl that he had dated briefly as a UCLA freshman. Neither
girl had much body going on and, in each case, when Kwok
had gotten a good look at these girls naked breasts he had been sorely
disappointed. Rather than real life versions of the breasts he had seen
in pictures and fantasized about in his wet dreams, big, perky, and
pneumatic, the reality was floppy bags of fat. Kwok had actually come to
believe that the girls in pictures were just regular girls where clever
photography, touch ups, and careful posing made them look so hot.
As Kwok stared at Jenny's barely clad breasts, Kwok realized he had been
mistaken. Jenny's partially clad torso, showed two perfectly formed
grapefruit sized mounds perched perkily on her chest. Kwok imagined what
Jenny's breasts would look like naked. Kwok's reverie was broken by
Jenny's voice.
Oh so will give me a few pointers? You don't look very athletic. I bet I
could beat you.
Kwok's friends had moved closer to the table and were now close enough
to hear Jenny. Out of the corner of his eye, Kwok noticed his friends
had moved within earshot. There was no choice now, Kwok had to save face
and not back down from a girl. If he let a girl, especially a pretty
Korean girl, face him off he would never live it down.
Bet? How about if I beat you, you give me your phone number and if I
beat you I'll give you my phone number?
Kwok thought he was being funny and cool.
No I mean a real bet. That is if you aren't afraid a girl will beat you?
Not realizing the seriousness of the situation, Kwok continued trying to
be funny.
How about strip pool? If I beat you, you strip and if I beat you, I'll
strip?
OK. How about a race to five? For each game lost the person will remove
one article of clothing?
The game was now up. It was 2AM the same night. The Baccara closed to
regular customers at 1AM but once David, the manager, had learned what
was afoot, he had agreed to stay around after regular closing hours. The
doors were locked. Kwok and his friends were gathered at one end of the
pool hall and Jenny and David were standing at the front desk.
Because of the nature of the match, certain rules had been negotiated.
The nine ball match would consist of a race to 3. After each game, the
loser would be remove one item of clothing of their choosing. Shoes and
socks do not count as clothing. This gave Kwok three items of clothing,
shirt, pants, and underwear. Jenny also had 3 items of clothing, bikini
top, skirt and panties.
Once naked, the loser would then have to be inspected by the winner for
15 minutes. During the 15 minutes, the winner could touch and fondle all
they pleased but there would be no penetration of
bodily orifices. During the inspection, the loser would be physically
restrained.
To insure compliance, each person had given David the keys to their
cars, their wallets, and all their money.
The game began. A flip of a coin had been made to determine the initial
break. Kwok had won the flip and lined up to break the rack.
As Jenny had negotiated the rules of their match, Kwok had become
increasingly nervous. Jenny's tone, confident demeanor, and seemingly
thorough knowledge of betting pool had made Kwok keenly aware that Jenny
was not some dumb FOB pool hall honey. As they were negotiating, Kwok
had noticed that Jenny was playing with her own cue. He didn't know much
about cues, but Jenny's cue had an expensive look about it. The shaft
was made from heavily marbled wood and the joint
gleamed with several polished silver rings. It occurred to him that
someone, even a girl, would not spend lots of money on a custom cue
unless they played a lot and could tell the difference between
a custom cue and a house cue. Despite his qualms, Kwok was in a weak
negotiating position.
Turning down the match would be almost as bad as losing. His friends
would call him chicken for the rest of his life.
Kwok broke the balls. Luck was on his side. The cue hit the one squarely
and with good velocity. The balls spread evenly around the table with no
problem clusters. Even better the four went down,
the nine moved toward a corner pocket, stopping about four inches out,
and even more lucky, the one stopped within an inch of the nine. Kwok
had a clear shot at the one/nine combination. Given the proximity of the
nine and the one all Kwok needed was to hit the one. Without much
trouble, Kwok hit the one/nine combination, winning the first game.
Jenny never came to the table.
All eyes turned toward Jenny. She blushed. Inside, Jenny was
flabbergasted. This was not turning out the way she had planned. She
knew that 9 times out of 10 she could whup Kwok. She had planned on
winning 3 quick games, humiliating him, and going home with a smug
smile. The possibility that Kwok would get lucky on the break had not
entered her deliberations.
Silence descended as Jenny considered her options. She reached for the
waist of her long skirt, shimmied her hips momentarily, and stepped out
of her skirt. David took the skirt and placed it behind the front desk
out of reach. Jenny was now clad in only her panties and bikini top.
Like many girls, Jenny had a wild side which she expressed in her choice
of personal lingerie. Tonight she had chosen a French cut purple
g-string as panties. In the back there was only a thin string running up
the crack in her behind and in front her sex was barely covered with a 2
inch wide strip of purple lace cloth. She had trimmed her bush this
week, leaving it bald and smooth.
After removing her skirt, Jenny tried to act nonchalantly but it was
difficult. Kwok and his friends just stood there staring at Jenny's
almost naked body. Her bikini top revealed her torso and rack well. It
did not take much to imagine what Jenny would look like topless. With
her skirt gone, Jenny's lower body was revealed. With her calf high GoGo
boots and g-string, the muscles of her calves were clearly delineated.
Jenny was very trim (she had 10.2% body fat according to the self test
device at the Sharper Image store in the Glendale Galleria). Kwok was
reminded of the strippers he had
seen at Bob's Classy Lady.
Besides the full body blush she was sporting, Jenny acted as if she was
fully dressed. She told herself that she was just a little bit more
exposed than when she went to the beach and wore her
two-piece (the bottom of her swimsuit featured full coverage in the
rear!). She bent over (now why had she thrown the triangle under the
table instead of placing it on the overhead light!), picked up
the rack, collected the balls from the pockets and racked the balls for
the second game. As she leaned over the table to rack the balls, her
flanks were fully on view, and a voice behind her said,
"nice butcrack." Followed by around of snickering. Jenny blushed more
deeply, her cheeks clenched involuntarily, but, otherwise, she refused
to acknowledge the comment and laughter.
Kwok stepped up to the table and broke the balls for the second game.
Jenny standing on the side with her back to one of the pillars, closed
her eyes, and silently prayed. When she opened her eyes and looked at
the layout she breathed a sigh of relief. None of the balls had gone
down and she had a clear shot on the one. The one ball was blocked so
she didn't have a chance to pocket the one but that was no problem.
Jenny stepped to the table, stroked the cue, hitting the one and
moving it so that it was placed behind a cluster of balls with the one
fully on the other end of the table. The only chance Kwok would be able
to avoid ball in hand would be to hit a three cushion
bank. Jenny did not think Kowk knew how to figure the angles for such a
shot.
She was correct. Kwok tired to hit the one by caroming the ball three
rails but missed by more than a foot. Jenny cooly placed the cue to
pocket the one. Just like in the first game, the nine had rolled
to within a few inches of the corner pocket with the two placed for an
easy combination. Since Jenny had the cue in hand, pocketing the one was
easy, and she was able to get shape on the two for the combination. The
two/nine went down and now it was Kwok's turn to squirm.
He removed his shirt. Like many FOB korean boys, Kwok did not work out.
The removal of his shirt revealed a pale emaciated torso. A few stray
clumps of chest hair sprouted randomly from his chest but otherwise he
was hairles. Jenny's ideal guy was lean, muscular, and cut. In the back
of her mind, Jenny wished she hadn't lost the game. The sight of Kwok's
sorry body was making her queasy.
Kwok racked the balls for the third game. This time Jenny had the break.
She put down the four on the break and had a good look at the one. After
running the one, two, three, and five, Jenny was left
with no chance to pocket the six. She hit another safety, placing the
seven behind the eight and nine with the cue at the other end of the
table. Kwok was left with the same 3 cushion bank to hit the
six. Again he missed by more than a foot (Jenny had correctly figured
that Kwok did not know how to figure what angle a ball will come the
rail). With ball in hand, Jenny ran out the remaining balls.
Kwok was stunned. Removing his shirt was no problem. He actually thought
his chest was cute (his last girlfriend had told him), but now he must
remove his pants. Facing the music, Kwok unbuckled
his pants and let them drop to the floor. The sight of Kwok's torso had
mad Jenny a little queasy but the sight of Kwok in his undies made her
naseous. Rather than boxers, Kwok wore tighty whities---with visible
tears and slightly gray in color from many washings. As Kwok moved to
rack the balls for the fourth game, Jenny moved behind him. As he leaned
over the table to rack the balls, Jenny snickered and said, "nice
treadmarks." At this comment even Kwok's friends cracked a
chuckle. It was Kwok's turn to body flush.
Jenny stepped up to the table for the break. Putting her whole body into
it (Kwok's friends noticed how Jenny's breast swung freely during her
stroke) the one rocketed into the rack. The balls split
neatly apart. The nine rolled right into the corner pocket. The fourth
game was Jenny's.
David returned Jenny's skirt and jacket. Jenny slipped them on. That was
much better. Now she turned to Kwok.
Well Mr. big talk. Are you going to pay up? Or are you a cheaser?
Kwok just stood there frozen.
OK. I don't know why but I'll give you a break. Let me have 30 minutes
of inspection time, let me do whatever I want to you, and I'll make your
friends go outside so they won't have to watch. Is
that a deal?
Kwok was screwed. What difference did the inspection time make. The less
his friends saw of his humiliation the better. If they were outside he
could make up a story later about what went on. Who
would dispute him? Kwok agreed. His friends stepped outside. David
locked the door. From behind the counter he brought out a pair of
handcuffs.
At the sight of the cuffs, Kwok eyes widened. The conditions were
inspection while physically restrained. Jenny took the handcuffs and
ordered David to stand with his back to one of the pillars.
She grabbed a rope that was part of the velvet curtains tied the cuffs
to the velvet rope, took each of Kwok's hands and placed them in the
cuffs. When she stepped back, David was strung up, hand
over his head, back to the pillar. David told Jenny he would step
outside and return in 30 minutes.
When Jenny and Kwok were alone, Jenny reached over and pulled Kwok's
shorts to his knees. Jenny looked down at Kwok's penis. Jenny had always
thought boys things were funny, especially when not excited. SHe was no
Ho but had had a few boyfriends--both asian and caucasian. What she saw
was typical asian boy equipment-a little on the small side. Jenny took a
cloth napkin from one of the tables. Wrapping her hand in the napkin,
she reached over and manipulated Kwok's
penis. Kwok's immedialtly sported wood. Jenny continued to stroke until
Kwok looked on the verge of orgasm-his eyes had rotated into the top of
his head, he breathing had become heavy, and low moan was emanating from
his lips.
When Jenny had him on the verge of orgasm, she quickly grabed a house
cue, stepped back, and brought the butt of the cue sharply down on
Kwok's organ. Kwok jerked involuntarily in his bonds and let loose an
animal like howl. His penis went limp. Outside the Baccara, Kwok's
friends heard his cries and tried to open the doors. They were locked.
Inside, Jenny picked up the napkin wrapped her hand again and stepped
over to stroke Kwok's organ to erection again. This was going to be the
longest 30 minutes in Kwok's life.
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