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Subject: Story : Stroker Ace - The Gift (TXT) - gift [01/01]
Date: Thu, 03 Apr 97 23:37:03 GMT
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From: an88791@anon.penet.fi (Stroker Ace)
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Reply-To: an88791@anon.penet.fi
Date: Sun, 30 Jul 1995 14:17:42 UTC
Subject: Stroker Ace: The Gift - nc
Lines: 719
The Gift
WARNING
Contains forced sex and other mis-uses of
women.
This story may be distributed electronically
provided it is complete, unaltered and with this
statement intact. The author maintains all rights to
this story.
(c) 1995, Stroker Ace
`The Gift' is entirely a work of fiction.
Chapter 1
A lot is expected of women but Taylor has learned to
expect disappointment. Disappointment has followed him for
his 30 plus years. It followed him since running away from
his rich family in Vermont. It was there on the streets.
Every girl he met, when sharing an abandoned house if they
were lucky or just a cardboard box in another nameless dark
smelly alley, gave him the gift of disappointment. Their
bodies open and willing, soft and compliant in the bright
spotlight that the mind envisions of another dark homeless
night. Two souls reaching out for relief from the cold, the
fear of the unwanted. Minutes of warmth, feelings of love
in between long days of disappointment. Willing to suck
him, fuck for him, tender loving long drawn out kisses in
the blackness, the hard concrete covered by a single layer
of cardboard, long ago pressed flat, is forgotten to the
delicate touch of female flesh against straining male
muscle, hard pulsing, pushing against yielding flesh as the
rain beats in through the boarded window. Hard eyes on a
pretty face looking up through a load of cum. Bars of
shadow fall against his sharp features, he shields his eyes
before opening them, afraid to face the morning light. He
knows without looking, she is gone. The few dollars hidden
in his shoe is gone, all that remains is another
disappointment.
The endless streams of minimum wage jobs made the Army
look like a good career move. He tried and excelled where
other failed. Boot camp, the fear of most recruits, was the
easiest for him. His thin frame filled out with muscles as
hard as steel, skin tanned by the North Carolina sun, tall
and lean, he excelled at the art of knife fighting. When
the big green machine wanted a few men to call in the
Stealth bombers 10 minutes from Baghdad, Taylor volunteered.
Days later, while drinking a warm beer in Shaibah, a
caravan pulled up. It seemed like they had rounded up every
four wheel drive vehicle in Saudi. It was the press,
looking for the war. Camera men poured out, with enough
equipment for a division. Satellite com dishes sprouted
from every other vehicle. Dan Rather stepped out, barely
having time to look around before being swallowed up by an
entourage, as big as any company. They charged off towards
a burned out T72, the go-fors following after them. In
astonishment, Taylor in dusty combat fatigues sat, sipping
the beer, shaking his head. Click, whirrr, click, whirrr.
At close range a motorized Nikon can sound like a rifle.
Taylor sprung around to see her standing legs spread in a
perfect Weaver stance. Oversize desert camouflage pants
tucked into tan combat boots. A ribbed pristine white top,
skin tight, low scooped neck line, deliciously round ample
breasts, nipples leaving dark shadows in the desert sun. A
flack jacket, pushed open by full breasts covered her
shoulders. The black camera framed by midnight black hair
covered her face.
"Where is the war solider?," she asked, lowering the
Nikon but still pointing it at him, her finger never leaving
the trigger.
"What war? Why don't you go take pictures of the
fucked up tank with your buddies. There is a burnt body
over there." Dark eyes with pale white skin, bold red
lipstick, jet black hair a study in contrasts, that will
make her famous across the news satellites.
"No. I think the 50 or 60 reporters have it pretty
well covered. Have you seen any action, soldier?"
"If I tell you, I will have to kill you."
She laughed, a full bright smile and slung the camera
over a shoulder. "That beer looks good."
"I got another in my hooch, over there," pointing at
the low desert brown tent.
"You want me to go into that tent with you?"
Taylor stood up, holding the M16 by the grip. Only
movie stars use the handle. He smiled, "Suit yourself," and
walked off to the tent.
She followed that all American boy into the desert
tent.
+++
Many times sitting in alone in his apartment, watching
her beautiful contrasting features on the tube he would
remember that long hot afternoon. The caravan packed up an
left as quickly as it arrived, but Anna stayed. Stayed
until late when afraid of being discovered by the returning
soldiers, she pretended to be lost. The CO, only too happy
to call in a UH60 for the pretty journalist.
The war ended and there was no place in a shrinking
Army for a knife fighter. He put his discharge money in a
bank and enrolled in college. A month later he learned that
the bank had failed. His money with millions more, lost
through bad investments, bad management and worst of all
embezzlement by the bank president. The government said they
would refund everything, after the investigations and court
cases, in perhaps three years. In the mean time he would
have to drop out of school. The papers ran stories on how
the bank president would not be charged. There was not
enough evidence of embezzlement and there were no laws
against bad management.
Chapter 2
"Are you looking for this?" Taylor was holding the
thick bundle of Sunday paper.
"What? How did you get in here?," she said, backing
up.
"Past the gate? That was the easy part. Getting past
the guarded entrance was much more difficult." Taylor
stepped between the retreating woman and the door. "You are
the maid, right? I know. I have been watching the house.
What is your name?"
"Sophie." She stood clutching the pink housecoat
around her black body, her eyes big with fear.
"Relax and you won't get hurt. We are going inside."
Taylor took her arm with the hand holding the bag. "Nice and
easy, now."
"Things like this just don't happen in Point Hope."
+++
"Get down there, stud." Taylor held his arm, twisted
behind his back pushed almost to his neck. Stumbling ahead
of the men was his wife, looking like a child's rendition of
a Halloween ghost.. He did not have a chance to resist.
His arms were pinned before he woke. With his young wife
next to him he did not resist. Taylor let her cover herself
with a yellow silk negligee before throwing the silk sheet
over her, tying it loosely at her waist. Standing she was a
butterfly encased in her private cocoon. Taylor kicked a
shoe towards her, telling the prone husband to help her put
them on. Letting the nude man up from the floor they headed
down stairs.
Sophie was taking it all right, tied to a straight
backed chair in front of the big screen television. Her
mouth covered with a wide strip of tape. Sitting Studboy on
the floor, his ankle cuffed to the wall unit assured that he
would stay put.
"Up you go, honey." Taylor took the girl's delicate
ankle, placing her black pump on the coffee table. His hand
pushing the sheet away lingered on the cool skin of her
calf, rolling the muscle under his strong fingers. The
muscle of her calf thin and softer than he expected, her
foot tightly pointed in the soft leather of expensive shoes.
Again she cries out in surprise as Taylor pushes her up
with a hand on her rear. "Don't move your hands, honey."
The sheet shrouded her head and knotted over her extended
arms, flowed around her legs like a pastel evening gown.
"You are standing on a table so be careful, I wouldn't want
you to fall and hurt those beautiful legs."
"Brett. Brett, are you there? Get me out of this!."
"Listen. Let us go. I don't have much cash in the
house but you can take what there is. Anyway Sophie got
paid in cash on Friday. She should have some money in her
room." Brett was pleading, sitting naked on the floor, his
knees drawn up to his chest.
Sophie's eyes grew wide. She mumbled into the tape
gag.
"What about me. Let me go. I won't tell anyone,"
Brett's wife chimed in.
"I am not going to take your money, Sophie. Stephanie
be quiet. We are going to get to know each other a little
better first."
"Oh God," Stephanie murmured from under the sheet.
Standing on the table she craned her head trying to see.
Perhaps she could make out shapes through the silk sheet.
"How did you know my name?"
"I know a lot about you but even more about you hubby,
Brett. I have been watching you Mr. Bank President. Did
you know that you are so dam predictable? You should really
change your routine every now and then. But then you had
nothing to fear, did you? The law can't touch you. There
is nothing illegal about approving your own salary. You got
paid very well for managing the bank into chapter 11. You
see, Mr. Bank President, I am not after your dam money."
Taylor noticed that Sophie was breathing heavily through the
gag. "You would never even miss a few dollars," he said
while removing the gag from the heavy woman.
"Give him whatever he wants, Steph. I don't want you
to get hurt. I won't cause any trouble, mister and I won't
tell anyone either. Just don't hurt me."
"How long have you been married to this piece of
work?"
"A year and a half," the words barely reaching from
under her tent.
"Too bad."
"Listen, the both of you. No one is going anywhere.
Brett, I just don't like you. I am going to strap your neck
to that wall unit and gag you as tightly as I know how, and
there is not a thing that you can do about it."
"Now Stephanie, I want you to turn around." Guiding
her by with hands low on her hips, he turned her toward her
tied husband.
Stephanie paused for a moment, before complying.
A quick pull and the sheet was untied, another and it
flew from her like the unveiling of a new sculpture. Her
long dusty blond hair flowed in disarray.
Taylor paused for a moment, taking in every delightful
inch, every soft curve. Her face had a delicate beauty even
without make up. Stephanie stood before him her legs
pressed hard together. Her body a golden tan with a milky
white negative outline of her swimsuit, daringly low while
surprisingly high on the sides. Thin yellow lace shimmered
above a thin rectangular patch of the lightest brown pubic
hair.
"That must be some bikini."
"Brett got it for me." She looked at her husband
sitting on the tile floor, his back forced straight by the
belt holding his neck to the polished walnut.
"Steph, you will not use that name again. From now on
you will not speak to him, not even look at his face. You
are my woman now." Taylor crossed to her other side. "Take
off this negligee." She stood still, as if not hearing.
Removing his belt off, Taylor laid it, hard across the round
of her bottom.
"I don't want to hurt you, hon. But you are going to
do what I say, when I say it. Now take it off."
She held the shimmering red silk by her side for a
moment before letting it drop silently to the table. There
she stood, naked on the table, her breasts, unsupported,
hung full, eternally attractive, her nipples barely
distinguishable, still whimpering from the belt. Her hands
moved to shield her bottom from another blow.
"Not the heels, put them back on. Not bad, not bad at
all. Brett you have a pretty friend. How is she in the
sack?"
Taylor took her all in, a beautiful woman. He caressed
a leg, noticing a slight bruise on her outer thigh, blushing
red neck and chest, pink nipples now full and prominent,
hard to the touch they sprung back to each flick of his
fingers accompanied by low moans. Her mouth now open,
breathing heavily, crimson red blush, quivering at his
gentle touch.
"Steph, honey, you `are' sensitive."
Brett mumbled something into the gag, his legs sprayed
obscenely open, cock swollen, bouncing by itself, his wrists
tied to his collar.
"It looks like Brett could use some sex and Sophie
looks horny." Taylor moved the heavyset woman to a chair in
front of the tied man. Ropes secured her legs beside his
head, the robe, untied, exposing mammoth black breasts,
large bushy cunt that has never seen a razor in 40 years.
"Pull that string out with your teeth, Studboy." His
erection had disappeared, his cock now a tiny nub, sack
retracted. "Pull it out." The belt downward to the top of
his head. His head swung forward, pulling against the
collar, barely reaching into the forest of tightly curled
black hair for the white string. A shove and the heavy
woman is pushed into him. "Oh Mercy," she cries as the
bloody tampon is spit to the floor. Brett, gagging, turning
face up for air, eyes rolled back, Taylor takes him by the
hair and guides him again between Sophie's folds.
"This nice woman cleans and cooks for you. It is time
that you do something for her. Your are going to give her
orgasms until she wants you to stop."
Sophie, silent, inched down in her seat, head leaned
back, eyes shut. Taylor put the belt in her hand. "Use
this if he needs some encouragement."
Steph, we will give these two lovebirds some privacy.
They can't go anywhere." Reaching out Taylor helps her
down. "Where do you do keep your makeup?"
+++
The main bath featured a lavish Jacuzzi framed by a
dense tropical foliage of a private garden beyond the
picture window. A counter with dual sinks dominated one
wall. On it was a medicine chest full with bottles of
makeup and perfumes of every color and style.
"Lets start with your hair." Inches of feathery soft
hair fell to the floor with every snip of the scissors.
"You are beautiful enough to getaway with a bad cut. Now
take off that nail polish. I want another color on you."
Concentrating to control trembling hands, Stephanie sat
perched on the ivory toilet, one foot drawn up, heel beside
the exposed lips of her sex. Clean shaven, above her
clitoris a rectangular shape of golden brown hair, fell
before her razor. On the floor amidst curls of blonde hair,
a black pump lay on its side, the name Candy in large script
on the tan insole. The unsteady nail polish brush, leaving
coral on the skin by her nails. Frustrated, she paused to
brush a strand of hair from her eyes. Catching Taylor's eye
she meet his stare for a moment before returning her
attention again to her foot.
Swiftly, Taylor pulled his zipper down, his erection
too difficult to extract, he resorted to lowering his pants.
"Open up, honey." A hand urged her head towards his cock.
Stephanie resisted, her neck muscles straining, her eyes
sought his. Mouth clenched tight against the tip of his
member, she held his gaze.
"I don't want to hurt you, Steph.," was answered by a
silent stare.
"OK. Just give me a lick then."
Her eyes never left his. After a moment, her tongue
flicked out, brushing the underside of his cock.
"You will have to do better than that, honey."
She realized that too. Again her tongue emerged,
caressing the shaft and head pressed to her face. Taylor,
moaned his hips and hands trapping her head in a rhythmic
press. She froze her head rigid, hands clenched white,
mouth again sealed, pressure lines radiating from clenched
lips.
"OK, OK. I don't want to hurt you. Put this lipstick
on, we are going downstairs.
Chapter 3
Moans, low and guttural, greeted the man and woman
descending the staircase. The chair had moved but with a
hand cuffed to the chair and legs tied securely to the wall
unit, Sophie could not move very far. Brett's balding head
bobbed up and down, his black hair almost entirely lost
between immense black thighs.
"Oh Gawdy, Gaaaaawdy....lick it whitey, I am
commmming...Ohhh. Oh." Folds of skin quivered in her
ecstasy, breasts flopping heavily to her sides.
"Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but I have something
for Brett to take care of." Taylor said, freeing the
woman's legs. Sophie's cuff was quickly reattached to
Stephanie's wrist capturing the two ladies to the chair.
"You look like you have been eating cherry pie." Taylor
wiped the filth from the face of the flushed man. Brett was
breathing hard his face red with exertion, looking like he
was on the way to a heart attack.
"Stephanie, did he hurt you? Did he take you?," Brett
got out between breaths.
Stephanie, had remembered her orders and looked towards
her feet. Naked she stood by the sitting Sophie, Black
pumps her only clothes. Coral lipstick matched her nails,
now clean shaven and with shorter hair she looked like a
different woman.
"Stephanie answer me. Did he take you? What did he do
to you? You look different somehow."
Taylor answered after a moment of awkward silence.
"Stephanie will not speak to you. She is my woman now. I
will tell her what to do, and what she does will be for me."
Dropping his pants, Taylor continued, "Right now I want to
fuck some head and Brett old boy, I guess you are it."
"No, No. Oh God, no!"
Taylor positioned himself in front of the sitting
Brett, legs spread to get the right height, feet planted to
thrust in.
"No. I don't do this homo stuff," Brett exclaimed
through clenched teeth, Taylor's throbbing cock and inch
from his face.
"This is not homo stuff. At least not for me. See I
am doing the fucking. For you it may be different," Taylor
laughed.
"Stop it. Take me instead." It was Stephanie. "Take
me."
"I did not think you wanted to do this. Since the
bathroom I have had a raging hard-on. I want some deep
throat and its not going to be easy."
"That is all right. I can take it. I will be good for
you."
"Yeah, take her, she is a great cocksucker!"
"Shut up Brett. You make me sick......" Taylor's
words trailed off.
"I should take you, just to teach you a lesson, but I
can't pass up an offer like this from such a beauty. Get on
your knees, Steph. I will take your mouth by the chair.
Turn sideways to give Brett a good view as I take my woman."
As soon as Stephanie kneeled, Taylor was on her. For a
precious moment she sat resigned to the humiliation, her
mouth a wide open tunnel facing upward at the same angle as
the erection burning just beyond her waiting lips. Cock
rigid and forcing in, the constriction of her throat sliding
like a ring around its head, a gag and the resulting swallow
massaging his engorged member. Stephanie's movements to
find comfort and easy her breathing only serving to
stimulate him further. Pulling back to feel the pleasure of
entry again, Stephanie grabs a breath, as Taylor rams home.
Again and again, flushed red cheeks, lipstick smeared, his
pubic hair again buries her nose. It builds deep inside,
balls tingling flowing through his groin in spasms exploding
beyond her throat. Taylor gives her a little room to pull
back, she catches his second load in the back of her mouth.
She swallows again and again to get the thick cum past her
windpipe, eventually collapsing on the floor, one arm
strangely outstretched, dangling from the cuff to Sophie.
The room is silent, all eyes on Taylor. Sophie,
closest to her roots, is the first to sense the change. A
new leader had emerged. Civilization developed over
hundreds of years dissipated in the spasm of an orgasm. The
house belongs to the intruder that now stands above her,
nude from the waist down. She instinctively obeys when told
to get some items from the bathroom, sensing her elevated
status. She locks Stephanie's slender pale white wrist to
the mantle piece, not caring that it needs to be dusted
again, enjoying the freedom of walking nude through her
employers home.
Taylor lounges on the creamy white leather couch, his
feet on the coffee table. Brett, untied sits in middle of
the room as Sophie overseeing his every action. Pointing
out a place where he missed even giving him advice on
shaving. The legs were first, lathered with shaving cream
to his groin, then resistance, even defiance, "I will not
shave myself,"
"Please don't make him do that," from Stephanie. Her
objections silenced by a twist to a nipple and a stern
look.
"There must be some justice for what he did. Think of
the people he robbed, the retirees that lost their life
savings."
"Sophie, use that belt on him. That is an order."
"Don't make me get up....", the barrier was crossed,
Brett's head went down, the razor paused at his ankle.
Sophie, standing in front, snapped the belt over his curving
back, feeling the power and enjoying it. The razor began to
move upwards, a nick of red amidst the white shaving cream.
A muffled sob the only clue to his shame.
Stephanie lay stretched across Taylor's lap, her legs
open, one foot on the Persian carpet, toes touching, the
heel raised as if still wearing the black pump. Arms are
extended straight back over her head, as Taylor inspects her
body as if it was his own. Every pore, every crease in the
exquisite skin revealed. Sensitive, pressure points are
kneaded, caressed, pinched, her responses measured then
repeated. Taylor's hand slid easily across her skin,
feeling the muscles and womanly softness under the surface,
kneading to press against the bone or tendon, exploring her
body, as she gasped from a caress, twitched from a pinch,
but always surrendering further, her body yielding its
secrets, her mind constantly reacting to his will, no way to
hide behind fear or even the cloud of lust.
When his fingers enter her pussy it seems to be proper,
natural to spread her legs a little farther. Already
flushed, breathing through her mouth, every fiber of her
being, focused on the tremendously sensitive area, opened
and probed his finger pushing upward, inside toward her
bladder, behind the clitoris, pushing her clitoris from
behind, outward against her crimson hood, incredible
pressure waves radiating from the clit, she comes,
organsaming in his hand. Loudly, incoherently, her mind
quivering in ecstasy, legs snapping together, an involuntary
sit-up in his lap, her hands still raised over her head, she
lowers them in a hug, hanging on as wave after wave floods
through her.
Her eyes open, the wall slowly coming into focus, her
arms fly from him, but he holds her tenderly at her waist.
Brett is standing, legs spread, groin half shaven the other
half covered in white, frozen he stares red eyed at her.
Sophie eyes big and white locked on the spectacle of a woman
orgasaming to the hand of her rapist.
"Stand up, honey. Tell them what just happened. They
seem to be very interested.
Strong hands at her waist helped her to her feet.
"He... you felt me."
"Tell them everything."
"You felt me up and I came. Is that what you wanted to
hear?"
"Oh God Steph, you are such a bitch. How could you?,"
Brett had found his voice.
Taylor sprung to his feet, plucking the girl up and
placing her to the side. "Shut up, asshole. You don't
deserve a woman like this. Stephanie come here. When is
the last time this asshole satisfied you. I mean really
satisfied you."
Stephanie, naked and vulnerable stood beside Taylor.
Without heels her head at shoulder height. Brett stood in
front of her, his limp cock barely poking out, eyes
downcast. "He satisfies me," she said but not very
convincingly.
Taylor laughs, "Sophie, finish his balls off then make
him up like a woman."
Taylor placed Stephanie on the couch his cock sliding
up and down between her legs, over the tight dimple of her
ass, guided softly by the folds of her lips to the moist
warmth of her vagina. He looks down to find the lips
parted, a glistening moist pink. A push and he slides
higher and in. She is tight against him, his cock taking
what it needs, she yielding around the hardness, reclaiming
as he pulls back only to surrender again at the next push.
A moan and her legs raise, his head finding the cervix, she
spasms as the shock wave ripples through her organs, again
and again the cervix and cock kiss. The slit eye of his
cock distorted wide open, cervix the final tunnel to life,
battered open, cock sealed tightly against, crushed against,
shocked against the flood of cum shot directly into the open
waiting cervix, reverberating inside the woman, lost in yet
another load flooding inward and upward, a quivering feeling
of being flooded, his taste of cum in her mouth still,
stomach queasy with his swallowed seed, precum pushed
against her ass, his cum flooding her uterus, her breast
still feeling his hand, fingers rolling her nipples, the
nerve tingling through her chest down toward her uterus.
The wave floods her senses in orgasm. Another orgasm,
different from the first, less physical in cause, feelings
and reaction. More mental, more satisfying, deeper, more
primitive, satisfying some inner longing to mate with the
bravest strongest. She is limp content, cool air on her
sides, the cool leather at her back, his warm strong body on
her, beyond the humiliation having surrendered everything to
the strong intruder.
Together, Taylor laying on top, his dick limp but still
grasped by the clenching pussy, with heads turned, they
watch Sophie apply bright red lipstick to Brett. Balls
razor clean, dick tiny almost invisible, feet forced into
the black pumps broken down at the back by the his larger
feet making them into high heeled mules. Sophie follows
directions and leads the stumbling man around by the belt
looped around his neck. It take him minutes to get around
the room on the wobbling heels, his feet red, veins dark
blue, skin bulging over the side of the shoe, he is led to
kneel in front of the couple.
Taking the choker, he tightens the belt against his
neck. "Get between her legs and give her some pleasure."
His balding head is pushed between Stephanie's legs, his
mouth tastes another man where only he should be, his wife's
legs limply wide, spent she hardly feels his trembling
tongue.
"Take him away, I can't take that right now."
"Lets see if he is any better at sucking cock." Again
the belt is tightened, jerked towards the man's groin. This
time there is no reprieve from his wife, beyond resistance
he take his captors cock in his mouth, amidst the taste of
semen he notices that unique taste of a woman. What used to
be his woman. Feeling the sexual response, undeniably
arousing to evoke such a strong response to the male in your
mouth, yet unbelievably humiliating, as Taylor hardens in
his mouth. Brett's dick pokes out.
"Look he likes it. He likes to suck cock!" Stephanie
cries out. "Now who is the cocksucker?"
"Fuck, you. Fuck you both!" Brett yelled, in a wave of
pride. "I am going to be skiing in Geneva while you are
rotting in jail. Drinking champagne while you are showering
with your cell mate."
"They are not going to catch him, Brett." Stephanie was
talking with quite confidence, bare breasts, nipples hard,
rising and falling with each breath. "There is a video
security system in that closet. Everyone approaching the
front door is taped. But he will not be able to prosecute
anyway because I will tell them that I invited you in."
"What are you saying, Stephanie? You are my wife."
"Not anymore. I am going with him...If he will take
me." Stephanie is holding Taylor's arm, in both hands,
trapping his arm against her left breast. "Brett try to
understand. Imagine what it is like for a woman. This man
has come into my life and taken my body. Not only sexually
but completely, visually, his touch, yes even by his taste.
Right now I taste his cock in my mouth, his semen is coating
my throat sliding down to join the rest in my stomach. He
has shot his seed into my womb, I can feel it between my
legs, on my ass. I can't belong to two men, it is not in my
genes. He has taken me Brett. Taken me, by body and sex."
"Sophie I am going to give this house to you. Brett
had the house put in my name to hide it from the bankruptcy
courts. I will sign it over to you, but you have to back up
my story."
"I will Ms. Stephanie. Oh, thank you, I will."
Stephanie was standing now, the glisten of moisture
high on her lean thigh, completely nude, throwing the
wedding band at the kneeling Brett. "I have the number of
the Swiss bank account, as long as I get there before you
do, I can withdraw it all. Can you keep him occupied for a
few days, Sophie?"
"Yes mam. I can keep this here pussy licker busy day
and night."
Brett tried to stand but Taylor was over him in a
second. Hands cuffed to chained ankles ensured that he
stayed manageable for Sophie.
She walked him outside to see the Taylor and Stephanie
off. Taylor threw the two large suitcases in the back seat
of the red Mercedes. Stephanie sat behind the wheel, her
butchered hair stuffed under a silver studded demi baseball
cap. She wore a white blouse, tight about her breasts, the
glow from the dashboard illuminating her face in the warm
summer night.
Sophie stood at the door dressed in the bright colors
of a native African robe. Gold and diamonds adorned her
neck. A long riding crop in one hand the other held a
silver chain arcing down to a black studded collar. Keeling
at her side, red marks on his back, hands chained behind his
back, hooked to his feet, the grotesque form of a partially
nude man, dressed as a woman. Tight black stockings already
torn at the knees, make up, his cock tied and pulled back
between his legs.
Sophie lets the robe fall open, a whack and the
kneeling form hobbles between her legs, mouth to the hairy
crack, as tires spin in the gravel.
-Stroker Ace-
Comments welcome
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**_MOUSE_**
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