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Miss Too

By: Miyelo Ina



She'd always loved to run, but over the past few days it had become a necessary therapy. He was inside her head now and try as she might, she couldn't run far enough to escape him. The best she could do was turn the music up to 10 on her walkman and run until her thighs and calves locked up in agony and her breath poured from her lungs like a searing liquid.

Her watch told her two hours had passed since she'd done the hurried stretches at the beginning of the track. She had achieved the numbness she needed to go home and face her life.

Limping back to the parking area, she watched the children laughing and jumping and running through the playground in the center of the track. She envied them their innocence, their lack of responsibility and their absence of troubled thought. Their minds centered on only the moment at hand, no on what might have been.

As she approached the car, she frowned, puzzled. There was a white paper on her windshield, anchored by the wiper blade. It fluttered in the warm evening breeze - too large to be a parking ticket - even though she knew she was parked legally anyhow. For some reason, she was struck with the image of a white flag of surrender. That was a word she could not keep out of her mind anymore.

She plucked it off the car and unfolded it as she did some cool-down stretches to ease the knots in her legs.

"When I watched you today, I could see the fear in your eyes. When you chose not to respond to my page, you only hurt yourself. You keep trying, Miss, thinking you want to run away from me, but you cannot run away from who and what you are. I see your hurt, I see the struggle, but you've tasted the ecstasy of surrender and you will never be satisfied without it. I don't hold your fear against you but I will only offer you one more chance, then I will disappear from your life if you do not wish to accept what I have to offer."

Her first reaction was a great gasp of disappointment at the thought of losing something she wasn't even sure she wanted. Before she could consider that paradox, she jerked her head up to scan the crowd around the track, realizing he must be somewhere nearby.

Cold chills crawled over her skin as she imagined him watching her now. She could be staring right at him and not know him, as she'd still never seen his face. She tried to replay her afternoon, thinking of all the people she ran by. Had she seen him and not known? 

Her body began to tremble with her need for him. It angered her, betraying her this way. She quickly fumbled with her keys, dropped them once, then threw herself into the solitary sanctuary of her car. She couldn't drive away though, she couldn't even move, her hands shook so badly.

She despised him for bringing her to the point of begging. She could never forgive him for making her call herself a slave. It was degrading! Humiliating! She would never let herself be put in that position again - to be made to say that and especially to feel that.

Just as her body had done, her mind quickly turned traitor too with one question. What did he actually do to make her behave the way she had?

Insulted, she wanted to cry out in protest, but it quickly became clear that he'd actually done nothing. She had chosen her actions, she chose her feelings and at the moment of culmination, she'd relished them.

Evidently he was still watching because at that moment, there was a quiet beeping sound from the console between her seats. She'd hidden the pager there to keep it from her husband. She reluctantly and breathlessly reached for it.

There was an address and a room number and one sentence, "Instructions on the bed. Or will you keep running?"

The ache was too strong today, or maybe she had simply run out of resolve. No, no… she still had that, she thought. She would drive to this place and confront him. He was obviously stalking her and that was illegal. She would demand that he leave her alone!

Lying intently to herself and clinging to her false intentions, she brought the trembling under control and backed out into the street.

The address was a hotel just as she'd expected. The door to the room was unlocked and she entered, hoping to catch him there, to get this over with as quickly as possible, but the room was empty. A note written on the same kind of paper lay on the bed… "Shower and make yourself ready for me. There is a robe in the bathroom. When you are done, stand looking out the window. When you hear the door open behind you, do not turn around. You trusted me before, now let me know I can trust you."

She scowled, tossing the note down. That was cheating, playing on her sense of honor that way! But she did need a shower, being still damp with the sweat from the run. What could that hurt?

As the hot water beat down on her face, she tried to think of all the ways she would tell him off. Strangely, each sounded more petulant than the last to her and that made her even more angry.

The robe hung where he'd said. With her body clean now, it would be a shame to put the damp, sweaty clothes back on, so she slid into the thick terry cloth. It covered her from neck to ankles and gave her a sense of barrier.

He wanted her by the window. Maybe that meant he was watching the window so he'd know when she was finished. If she looked out now, she'd surely see him and she had no doubt she would know him instantly. But as she took her place, tugging the curtain back a little, she heard the door creak behind her. Immediately she froze, wondering how he'd known.

She fought to get control of her breath, to slow her pounding heart, but it too seemed to be against her… thinking only how happy it was to know he was there. Her hands played nervously in front of her, wringing themselves.

The door closed and there was silence, but there was no question about his presence in the room. It filled the area, washing over her like a warm spray, making her feel small and insignificant.

"Is there something you need to say to me?" that smooth and at-once familiar voice said quietly.

All the things she'd thought to say went fleeting out of her mind, leaving it an empty shell. Her mouth was dry and she closed her eyes. A moan escaped her throat.

"There is something, Miss. I feel it. Tell me."

Grasping at the first and only thought she could find, she flung it at him in self-defense. She blurted, "I don't want to be here."

"Then leave," he said calmly. She heard keys dropped on the dresser. He'd batted away her only thought as easily as swatting a fly.

"I'm not ready for this," she tried again.

"Yes, Miss, you are. Or you would not have come to me again." Another effortless deflection.

"Stop!" she cried, shaking her head violently as if she could dislodge him that way.

He moved quickly and she felt him behind her, embracing her tightly.

"Ssh," he whispered in her ear. She could feel his breath on her neck. "Hush, Miss. I am here now."

She turned her face into his shoulder, breathing in his clean scent. He stroked the wet hair away from her forehead gently.

"Why do you fight me so, pet? You think that you are so afraid of losing control. Tell me truthfully though, haven't you been out of control all along, since you first knew the sensation of submission? Haven't your thoughts flown wildly about in your head, trying to understand why?"

She nodded, not realizing that she was gripping his forearm tightly.

"Do you remember the only moment of peace you had from these thoughts? The only moment they were brought under control?"

Biting her lip, she tried to deny the inevitable. She shook her head and moaned, "No!"

She could feel his smile. "Yes, Miss, you do know. The only time there is peace is when I give it to you. You can't control these feelings, but I can. Why do you run so hard from what you need so much?"

Finally the answer came tearing out of her, though she tried to keep it in. He was bringing her to this point again, where she had control over nothing. And it was heaven!

"Because I want it too much! I want it and nothing else and I can't ever have enough of it! It will just build and build inside me until I explode for wanting it so much!"

"No, pet. This is where you are wrong. Pay close attention to me now. It is the unfulfilled need that grows so strongly out of your control. I can teach you to put it in its proper place, if only you will let me. If only you will trust me."

"Please, please!" she begged, "Please make it go away!" She could barely remember her earlier contempt at this pleading. It felt as though a dam had burst inside her.

"Yes, Miss. I will," he soothed her. "But you must promise not to run from me anymore."

She shook her head, holding tightly to his arm. "I can't," she moaned, "I'm afraid."

"Of course your are, pet, because until now, the fear was all you had to hold on to. Now see what you are holding?" He brought her attention to her own frantic hands gripping him. "And see what is holding on to you?"

His embrace was firm, strong, unwavering, his hands confident but gentle. His voice felt like warm water on the ice of her fear, melting it away slowly but surely.

She grew still, listening, floating on his words.

"Let go, pretty one. Let go and let yourself know this feeling. You desire it. You crave it. It's here, just accept it."

Her eyes slipped shut and she let herself begin to drift. His voice and his hands were the stream that propelled her along.

"Yes Miss, that's it. That's a good girl," he whispered. The words brought a faint smile to her slightly parted lips.

Keeping her body pressed back against his, he moved his hands over the soft fabric of the robe, starting at her shoulders, moving down over her breasts, down to the firm stomach. A small whimper escaped as he passed over very sensitive nipples.

When his hand moved lower, pulling the robe open at her thighs, she arched her back and pressed into him. He parted the robe and ran a hand up one hard thigh. He brushed lightly across the triangle of close-cropped hair and up over her warm belly. As he pulled her tighter to him this way, he put his mouth against the side of her neck. At first, it was just a kiss, then a lick, then he bit down lightly. She jumped as it seemed sparks coursed through her body. He bit again as, beneath the robe, he pinched one taut nipple.

She moaned, wishing she could move somehow, to touch him, to kiss him, but he held her firmly. Each tiny prick of pain sent shudders through her.

"Yes Miss, let go," he breathed into her ear. Using both hands now, he untied the sash on the robe and let it fall open. Very slowly, he pulled it down to expose the shoulder of the side he'd kissed. He bit the tender flesh until she whimpered again, unable to distinguish her pain from her pleasure. He slipped the robe off her other shoulder and let it fall to the floor.

"My beautiful pet," he sighed, crushing her in his embrace. She could feel the hard bulge beneath the coarse denim pressing firmly into her butt. Instinctively, she rubbed her hips against it.

"Oh?" he teased, "there is something my Miss wants?"

She heard but could not answer. His hands each cupped a breast, pinching and rolling the nipples between thumb and forefinger. Her head was thrown back languidly against his shoulder.

"Tell me pet, what you want from me," he commanded.

"Just to feel you," she answered with a moan.

He brought one hand to each of her hips, caressing passionately, running over the hip bone up to the softer waist. Very slowly he brought his warm hands up each side, up under each arm, lifting her arms up high over her head. With only one of his hands, he held both of hers so tightly she could not pull away. With his free hand, he could touch any part of her he desired.

As he stroked her skin, he eased a knee between her thighs from behind, causing them to part. The air was cool against the hottest part of part, bringing a low gasp. She felt vulnerable this way - open, unable to move, slightly off-balance - but he steadied her, her anchor.

"You want to feel me," he whispered, his hands still exploring her. "What will you do for this feeling?" He bit her shoulder again.

She fought to clear her mind enough to keep from answering in a damning way but the sensations inside her were overwhelming. It felt too good, this surrender; it felt too good to stop fighting him.

"Tell me, Miss, what will you do?" he prompted.

"Anything," she barely breathed the word, but once out, it opened her even further. "Anything you want."

"Remember what you are, pet? Remember that word you hate so much?"

She nodded, biting her lip, praying he would not make her say it again.

"I believe I know why you dislike it so much." His hand moved up her thigh, across slippery lips. There was so much moisture there, so much arousal that he could smell it. 

"When I ask for that word, I only mean it in a sexual sense, Miss. I do not mean it as a detraction from the rest of your life."

She couldn't believe he wanted her to understand something so complex while he stroked her that way, yet it did make a certain amount of sense. Being submissive sexually, letting someone else have the control. Wasn't that exactly what she craved?

"Yes," she answered herself out loud.

"What, Miss?" he asked.

She hadn't realized she'd spoken. His finger had pressed against her full, swollen lips until it had slipped between them. She could feel how hard her clitoris had become but he seemed to avoid touching it. She wanted him to touch it.

"Yes, please," she said again, attempting to wiggle that part of her into contact with his finger.

"Be still!" he said in a much sterner voice than he'd used before. "I will tell you when it is time for your pleasure."

Her head automatically dropped at the tone of his disapproval. He smiled at that reaction.

"Do you agree?" he asked, pushing one step further.

"Yes…" she whispered, but she'd left the word hanging like she'd wanted to add something.

"Yes, what?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir?" it seemed an alien thing in her mouth.

"Say, 'yes, Master'!" he told her, pushing two fingers quickly and deeply inside her. The act was punctuation for the thought.

"M…" she lost her breath at his action, still seeming to fight him, but he continued to move his fingers in and out, whispering in her ear, "Say it, Miss. You already feel it, now just acknowledge it. Give it life. Let go."

"Master," she said it so slowly, trying each syllable on her tongue, accepting what it insinuated.

"That's it, pet. Say it for me again."

"Master." It came out easier that time, a very natural and freeing word. It tasted sweet; it implied the peace she sought. "Yes, Master," she spoke it on her own.

He decided to push her yet further. "If I am the Master, what does that make you, pet?"

Her breath was coming faster in time with the movement of his fingers. She trembled, feeling her knees weakening. She hated him for this and she loved him for it at the same time.

"Tell me," he said sternly. "No more games. What are you?"

"Your slave," she answered without hesitation this time, although she added… "Sexually."

"Very good," he smiled, "No more, no less. No more running away?"

"No, Master," she answered through clenched teeth.

"You're about to cum, aren't you?" he knew without asking.

"Yes. Oh, yes, please!" she begged.

He pulled the fingers away from her suddenly and said, "No, I don't want that yet."

"Aaah!" she cried out. "No, please!"

"Your first lesson, Miss. It is my will, not yours. Is that clear?"

She could only whimper.

"You can want it but you can never have it until I say so. Do you understand?"

She was angry. This was not supposed to happen! This was not why she was here.

"Answer me, slave."

She froze at that word, realizing how she'd answered him before, in the heat of passion. Now her mind was clearing and she could see she had a choice. To blow him off and walk away, cold and unfulfilled, or to submit to him, remembering how wonderful it had felt the last time, knowing it would be that way again if she could just be patient.

He felt the struggle inside her but there was no doubt in his mind that he'd already won.

Her muscle went limp again in supplication. "Yes Master, I understand."

She belonged to him.

Miss Too Much Pageant



NOTE: A fictional story designed for those who can handle it.

* * *

"Hey! You frickin' lazy bum! Wake up, will ya?"

"Yeah, getcher carcass out of bed, I'm Armpit..."

"And I'm Costello."

"Welcome to Morning Mayhem on Rockin' 92!"

The crunching chords of Bachman-Turner Overdrive's seventies hit Takin' Care Of Business began. The two hosts continued talking.

"They call me Armpit! I don't have to tell you why!"

"We're being kind by calling him Armpit. Most everybody else calls him by the name of another body indentation!"

"He's Vinny Costello. We're here every day to get you started."

"Get you up, you might say!"

"Right, Costello, get you up! And here's something that'll help that, I bet. Our latest contest, promotion, whatever ya wanna call it. Play the contest cart!"

The music faded. An announcer's voice cut in.

"Is it possible to have Too Much Of A Good Thing?"

"Sheesh, Costello! Will you look at the size of those things?"

"Massive, Armpit! How do you stand up, lady?"

The sound effect of a cow mooing punctuated the dialog.

"I know!" answered a female voice. "They are pretty damn big, aren't they?"

"Lady, that's like saying the Pope is a little bit Catholic!"

"I've had them since I was ten!"

"They were that big when you were ten?"

"Nearly!"

The announcer spoke again. "Armpit and Costello have introduced you all week to women with Too Much Of A Good Thing!"

"Put 'em over my eyes, wouldja? Costello! I can't see! I can't see!"

"Now, your favorite morning hosts are giving you the chance to meet them in the flesh!" continued the announcer. "And that's some flesh!"

"Armpit! Can ya breathe?"

"Announcing the Miss Too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing Pageant! Wednesday morning at six, at the Highlander Inn! Witness women over-blessed with femininity parading their pulchritude for your pleasure! Armpit and Costello will host--the girls will be judged on their performance in the Half-a-Swimsuit Competition..."

"Half a swimsuit?" asked a chorus of men's voices.

"Trust me, you DON'T want to see these girls in bikinis!" explained the announcer. "They'll parade what they have to offer in bikini tops and tight jeans. Plus, they'll show their personality in Interviews, and best of all — the Talent Segment of the Pageant!"

"Costello, bring in a chair! I wanna see if she can pick up a chair with them!"

"You'll see feats you never thought possible — performed with the feminine upper body!"

"Make it an armchair, Costello!"

"The winner will be rewarded with what she needs most! That's right — Metro Plastic Surgery will treat Miss Too-Much to an all-expenses-paid breast reduction operation!"

This detail was greeted by the sound effect of thunderous applause!

"That's the Miss Too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing Pageant! Tickets are available at the mall, the Highlander Inn, or here at at the studio! And ladies! There's still time to become a contestant! Call Armpit and Costello if you think you could become Miss Too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing! Only from Rockin' 92!"

"Rockin' Ninety-who?"

"That's ROCKIN' 92!"

-------------

Mickey snickered at the promotional announcement and turned up the volume on the radio he kept in his kitchenette. He finished the toast with butter and peanut butter and cup and a half of coffee that he had every day for breakfast and prepared to go to work. But first, he wanted to hear a little more of Armpit and Costello's program.

"Well, there ya go! It's tomorrow, but there's still time to get tickets. Lots of you guys are gonna wanna be there, right, Costello?"

"Right, Armpit! We should say that the breast reduction surgery will be supplied by Metro Plastic Surgery, just like the announcer said. We have to say that, because it's a trade deal."

"Right. We say their name, they supply the prize. Quid pro quo, and no money changes hands."

"Armpit, watch what you say!"

"What are yout talkin' about, Costello? I didn't say anything to get us in trouble!"

"I know! But what makes you think our audience knows what 'quid pro quo' means!"

"I get your point, Costello. Listen! I wanna say one thing. I keep hearing statistics that say the average American bust is increasing in size. Know what I'm talkin' about?" 

"Yes, I do, Armpit!"

"Well, I see no evidence of that among our college interns! No evidence whatsoever!"

Laughter, from the crew, apparently, filled the radio studio. Mickey laughed as he buttoned up the work shirt he wore, with his name embroidered on the pocket. He switched off his kitchen radio and rushed to his car, so he wouldn't miss any of the show!

"So — do we have any babes with big gazoombas waiting for immortality in the hall!"

"Lemme check! There's still time to be a contestant...!"

Mickey snickered. Armpit and Costello would help him get through shipping and receiving at the factory for another morning.

---------

"You've got to be kidding."

Vivian couldn't believe what her friend Cherie was saying. 

"No, Viv, I'm not kidding. I'm going to do it," answered her friend as they each picked up a hot cup of coffee at the catering truck.

"You're really going to call those... those... animals?" said Vivian, shaking back her straight blonde hair as she stirred in Sweet'n'Low.

"Vivian, I've been alive twenty-four years," said Cherie.

"Twenty-six," corrected Vivian. "I knew you in high school, so you can't lie about your age with me!"

"Okay, twenty-six!" sighed Cherie. "And I feel as though nothing exciting has ever happened to me. Ever. I don't think it's too much to ask to want to experience some excitement in my life for once," she continued.

"Wait a minute. I know taking customer service complaints over the phone isn't exactly livin' la vida loca," said Vivian as she took her seat. "But Armpit and Costello! They'll make fun of your naked body while the whole city is listening!"

"Yeah," said Cherie, her mouth crinkling as her well-rounded cheeks broke into a smile. "But I think I've got what they're looking for," she said, puffing out her substantial chest.

"Cherie, don't you get it?" tsk-tsk'd Vivian. "Guys don't really like girls like us. Girls with extra oomph. They like those skinny little slip-of-a-things! You see it when we go out, don't you?"

"Oh," protested Cherie, "I don't know if that's true!"

"Cherie, how many dates have you had in the past four weeks?"

Cherie lowered her head.

"See what I mean?" said Vivian, a little sadly. "It's the same with Armpit and Costello. They don't like big chests. They're making fun of big chests. I'd hate to see you subject yourself to that kind of abuse just because you think your life needs some excitement."

Cherie thought it over. "I guess you're right," she finally said, slumping over and taking her place in her cubicle.

But the moment time came for her fifteen-minute break?

Cherie stopped combing her short brown locks and walked to the parking lot to use the public phone.

"Hello, Rockin' 92? I'd like to talk to Armpit or Costello. Yes. Um-hm. Yes, I think I would like to be a contestant! Yeah? They want to look me over first? Okay. I'll come down on my lunch hour. Um-hm. Tell them it'll be worth their while to hang around. F-cups. Right, F. Comes after D! Mm-hm! Okay! See you then."

She skipped back to her customer service post, savoring the closest thing she'd felt to an actual thrill in years.

--------------

"Bo, breakfast is ready. Please come to the kitchen."

"Aw, lay off, willya? Armpit and Costello are on!"

"I've got it on the radio in there! I know you like it. Come on, you'll be late for work."

"Nag, nag, nag. Okay, Soo-ee!"

Belinda scowled at her husband's insensitive remarks. Good lord — making the sound of a farmer calling the hogs? How awful! Why did he always make fun of her size? Calling her Bossy, Elsie the Cow, Piggy, or Soo-ee! It was downright cruel. Besides, she was the same size as the day they were married! It's not like she'd "let herself go"; he knew what he was getting into that day. In fact, when they were dating, Belinda thought that Bo appreciated her well-padded figure... her wide, easy-to-grab-onto hips... her tremendous bust. But now, he snickered and sneered. She sometimes wondered why she put up with it.

Bo sat down and tore into the plate full of eggs and sausages his wife Belinda had prepared. She noticed that he didn't have any trouble choking the food down, despite his unwelcome opinions about the appearance of the cook! Armpit and Costello kept up their radio banter.

"We want to remind our Morning Mayhem listeners that the much talked about Miss Too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing Pageant is tomorrow!"

"So if you think you've got what it takes, call us! We've got some fine contestants already lined up, but there's always room for one more!" 

"You mean room for two more!"

"Right! Bring 'em both in and let us have a look. First prize is an all-expenses-paid breast reduction operation from Metro Plastic Surgery!"

"Right, don't forget the mention. Prize traded for mention, so it costs us nothing!"

Bo snorted with amusement. "You oughta enter," he said facetiously to his wife. "God knows you got enough tit!"

"I might just do that!" countered Belinda. "Listen to me, Bo Benson — you may not want me! You may be disgusted by this body! But others may feel differently!"

Bo wiped his chin with a paper napkin. "Go on, Bossy," he taunted. "Nobody wants to see your big udders. Forget about it." He grabbed his lunch. "See ya."

The sound of the door shutting behind him echoed. Belinda was on the verge of tears. How could he?

She tore open her red plaid nightshirt to expose her breasts. She walked over to a mirror. They were enormous. Not just proportional to Belinda's overall bigness — these were big, big boobs by any standards. Belinda looked at herself, and took a kind of inventory. Her face was all right. Round and full, framed by soft blonde hair, cut in a feathered-back, kind of eighties style. Full cheeks, a bit of a double chin... and the thick glasses she just couldn't see without. Okay, she wouldn't be winning any modeling contracts! But for all these years, through two grown children, her husband Bo seemed to like her looks — especially her heavy, round, pink-nippled breasts. But now? Nothing but wisecracks and out-and-out scorn.

She was just ticked-off enough to dial the phone.

"Rockin' 92? Morning Mayhem show, please. Yes, I'm a potential contestant," she heard herself saying. Belinda could hardly believe what she was doing. "Right now? I guess I could come in. Do I have time to put on some makeup? Hm? They don't care? Unless I want to put some makeup on them?" Belinda rolled her eyes. "No, they'll have no trouble seeing them. I'll be there as quick as I can. Right — and so will they. Ha ha. Okay!" she said, hanging up the phone.

She peered back into the mirror, holding her naked breasts up high.

"Listen, you two," she said, looking her mirror image right in the tits. "We're going to teach that asshole a lesson!"

--------

Mickey walked to his desk at the loading dock, and switched on his radio. He didn't have to miss a minute of Armpit and Costello! Sometimes people coming and going near the dock didn't appreciate the Morning Mayhem brand of humor... like the boss' secretary. She always sniffed at the sexist and leering comments. But Mickey didn't care! Shipping and receiving was his domain, and his word was law. So it was Armpit and Costello in the morning on the radio, lingerie calendars on the wall, and naked pictures from girly magazines taped to his desk. One female truck driver who regularly delivered goods to Mickey always teased him about the pictures on the desk. "Oh, is this your wife and children?" she would coo facietiously. "You must be very proud!" Mickey had to admit, that was a pretty clever way to give him a bad time about his taste in decor — but it didn't make him get rid of the pictures! He started looking through a stack of invoices as he listened to what Armpit and Costello had to say next.

"Hey, Armpit! I know it's almost time for the end of the show, but we got a last-minute possible contestant here who's come down to the station!"

"Bring her in, Costello, bring her in! Or maybe I should say, bring them in!"

Another sound effect was heard — this time a bump-and-grind rhythm played on tom-toms.

"Your name is...?"

"Belinda," said a shy-sounding female voice.

"Let's cut to the chase. How big are they?"

You could almost swear you heard the sound of a woman blushing over the radio. "They're forty L cup, Armpit."

A chorus of gasps and a smattering of applause greeted this statistic.

"Oh my fricking God. We say fricking here on the radio a lot. The FCC seems to like it. What do you think, Costello?"

"Who can tell, Armpit? Let's see 'em naked!"

"Can you take off that sweatshirt, Belinda? We want to look at those loo-loos!"

"Okay. Your producer told me to come right over, so I left the house in kind of a rush. I didn't have time to put on a bra!"

A boinging spring sound effect cut through the laughter.

"Okay by us!"

"Though I'd kinda like to see what an L-cup bra looks like!"

"Oh, kind of like two salad bowls sitting side by side!" explained Belinda, getting into the spirit of the show. "Ah! There they are. What do you think?"

Armpit was speechless. All he could manage was a low whistle.

Costello jumped in. "Since this is radio, as a public service, I must do my best to describe the sight to our listeners. Belinda's big Hefty bags are... huge. huge. There's no other word. I'm holding a basketball next to one so our photographer can snap a picture. Check our website later, that'll be up."

"And these enormous knockeramas make the basketball look...puny, ladies and germs," explained Armpit, helpfully. "It looks like... I don't know... two blimps comin' in for a landing! Oh, the humanity! Oh, the humanity!"

"Armpit? Why'd you say it twice?" asked Costello.

"One for each blimp," explained Armpit, as the sound effects man played a drummer hitting a vaudeville rim-shot.

"Now, Belinda isn't exactly what you would call skinny," said Vinny Costello. "Is that fair to say, Belinda?"

"Yes, Costello," said Belinda, pleasantly. "I don't mind your saying that. Those girls you see in the magazines with scarecrow bony bodies and big balloony...?"

"Watch what word you use, Belinda. The FCC is listening!"

"Big balloony... bosoms — that's fake. These L-cuppers are 100% real."

"We're impressed, Belinda. Very impressed. Tell me something. When you and your husband make love...?"

Belinda audibly sniffed. Armpit ignored her.

"...does he spend the whole time up north? Does he ever explore the swampland down south?"

"I don't want to talk about my husband," said Belinda, haughtily. "Can I be a contestant?"

"Hell, yeah," said Costello. "If anybody's got Too Much, it's you. Wear a bikini top with jeans for the Half-A-Swimsuit competition, and think of something you can do..."

"Something they can do," corrected Armpit.

"Right! For the Talent Portion. And once again men, the Miss Too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing Pageant starts at six a.m. at the Highlander Inn. Go there now for tickets! Only from your friends at Rockin' 92!"

"Rockin' Ninety-Who?" said Armpit, as always.

"Rockin' 92!" said Costello.

Mickey listened, enraptured. He made up his mind to drive down to the Highlander on his lunch hour. He HAD to have tickets to this Too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing Pageant!

----------

Cherie and Vivian walked past the tartan plaid sign outside the Highlander Inn ("Aye — Thrifty Rates!") and went into the banquet room, giggling in excitement.

"I'm glad you came with me, Vivian!" said Cherie, beaming.

"I wouldn't let you go out there without some support, Cherie!"

Cherie laughed and raised her boobs with both hands. "I got support!" she crowed.

"I know," said Vivian, rolling her eyes. "You never wear a two-piece swimsuit. Where'd you get the bikini top?"

"Since I only needed the top, I bought one sized for a much fatter woman," explained Cherie, unbuttoning her denim shirt to show it off. "'Course, I had to tie it tighter! I know I'm not slim, but my titties are fatter than I am. You should have entered, Viv. You got the qualifications."

Vivian looked down. "I know, I do," she said. "But I'd rather die than get up in front of people like that!"

They sat down at a table and looked at the unusual buffet of bacon, eggs, coffee, chips, salsa, and beer. Cherie could barely contain her excitement. Vivian kept telling her that men don't really like women built like Cherie. But Cherie doubted that! Sure, men hardly came up to them when they went out to clubs. But Cherie could see them looking. She thought they would come up if they weren't with their friends! Even now, she could feel male eyes all over both her and Vivian. Cherie was pretty sure the young men who listened to Armpit and Costello didn't come out at this hour of the morning because they didn't like looking at big boobs!

-------

Belinda kept her long coat closed. Maybe she shouldn't do this. Maybe her L-cups were piggy and freakish, like her husband Bo always implied. Maybe she shouldn't be showing them to anybody. She walked slowly into the banquet room, doubting her decision.

Then she got a look at the other contestants. Maybe her boobs aren't sexy, she thought, like Bo always said. But no one can say they aren't big. These girls don't have tits, she thought to herself. Sure, maybe their knockers were a little bigger than most. But they weren't L-cuppers! If the judging isn't so much on sexiness, she thought, but on sheer size — she'd win this thing hands down. She flung her coat off and let the assembled multitudes see her massive breasts in a ridiculously inadequate crocheted bikini top. There was a gasp. Belinda exhaled, put on a brave smile, and slowly bounced her way to the front of the room.

Just then two men who must have been Armpit and Costello jumped onto the stage carrying microphones. "Morning, girls. Morning, men! Welcome to this very special edition of Morning Mayhem, The Miss Too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing Pageant!"

Cherie and Vivian were a little surprised. They both always pictured these two guys as young, college-age kids. Both men were at least into their forties, and one — Armpit? — was completely bald on top, although he took the hair he did have and fashioned it into a ponytail.

Vinny Costello spoke over the applause. "That's right, Armpit. There's a few things we want to say before we go on the air. You have to watch your language. This goes for the contestants and the spectators."

"That's right, a careless word could lose us our broadcast license," said Armpit. "You have to avoid the Seven Words You Can't Say On Television... or radio, according to the FCC. And Costello! Those words are...?"

The thinner man with the moustache and sideburns grinned. "Shit, fuck, piss, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits!"

The crowd of young men applauded and cheered at the forbidden words!

"That last one again?"

"Tits!"

"Everybody join him!"

"Tits!" shouted the crowd. Armpit tossed his ponytail to one side and continued. "I just wanted you all to get that out of your system. It's so important that we avoid that and all the other words that we're going to make it a judging category. Vocabulary! Each contestant will be judged on how many different words for tits she uses! Sure, breasts and boobs are okay. But be original! Volleyballs! Silk pillows! Dirigibles! Baby feeders!"

"Yum yums!" offerred Costello.

"Yum yums is good," agreed Armpit. "Volkswagens would be good for the size of some of the pairs I'm seeing here today!"

The crowd buzzed and many eyes and pointing fingers turned toward Belinda.




Miss Too Much Pageant



Costello looked offstage, apparently getting a signal from an engineer. "We need to get ready. Almost air time," he said. "All contestants! Come up on the stage. If you wore a coat or a shirt over your bikini top, keep it on. We'll have you take it off dramatically when you're introduced."

Armpit put his microphone into a stand. "And men!" he said to the paying onlookers. "This is radio, not television! We don't know how you're reacting unless we hear you! They're counting us down. Whoop it up, guys!"

Vivian squeezed Cherie's hand to wish her good luck as she headed for the stage, buttoning up her denim shirt once again over her big, round breasts. Vivian looked around at the men seated around her at the banquet table. They all were looking her right in the chest, wondering when she would get up on the stage. She lowered her head in embarassment.

Belinda buttoned up her coat again, planning to open it dramatically during the pageant. She already knew that everyone in the room was looking her up and down. Even in her concealing coat, the presence of her two powerful pontoon boats was obvious. Belinda was starting to enjoy the idea of unveiling them in front of every tit-minded man in the city.

Mickey found his way into the banquet hall and grabbed a beer and a coffee. He smiled when he saw all the big, sturdy girls gathered on the stage. He was going to enjoy this! He only hoped no one from work would see him there, since he'd called in sick that day. He probably would have had an easier time being inconspicuous if he hadn't worn his usual work shirt — with "Mickey" embroidered over the pocket! The big girls were herded onto the stage as old-fashioned strip music played, as well Armpit and Costello's usual array of sound effects — pigs snorting, cows mooing, and the "boing" sound effect that represented symbolic hard-ons.

Mickey looked over all the girls and grinned from ear to ear. These weren't the silicone-pumped skinny girls like he had taped to his workbench. These were real women. Women who came by their massive tits honestly. He wondered if they knew what those boobies did to guys like him — reduced them to slobbering, babbling, idiots with pants-a-bulging.

In a moment, Mickey's eyes met the eyes of one of the contestants. A brown-haired girl wearing tight, worn jeans, where faded blue lines revealed the folds of her thick but shapely legs, her wide but curvy hips, and... yes, the folds of her sex. She wore a denim shirt buttoned over her huge titties — but she hadn't tucked it into her waist, so that it seemed to hang at least a foot in front of her. Mickey wondered if a draft could blow under that shirt and make the promised treasures beneath freeze! He noticed that she was beginning to fiddle with one of the shirt's buttons in a very teasing, flirty way... and when his eyes wandered back to her brown eyes, she was looking right at him. She knew! Every other contestant, although massive and lovely, became invisible to Mickey. He just wanted to know this gorgeous creature's name. This gorgeous creature who seemed to be just as interested in him!

Armpit and Costello stood at their microphones, holding out their hands. An announcer's voice was heard over the P.A. system. They grinned like two overgrown adolescents.

"Ladies and gentlemen — and the rest of you! — welcome to a special edition of Morning Mayhem. It's the Miss Too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing Pageant!" The music hit a crescendo and the two hosts signaled to the audience that the time to hoot, holler, and snort had arrived!

-----------

Mickey joined in the ovation, never taking his eyes off the thickly built but top-heavy brunette. In a moment, her eyes seemed to twinkle at him and she glanced down toward her full bust. Mickey's eyes followed, of course. Then she threw back her shoulders and shook!

Mickey thought he'd come right then and there. After making sure his crotch was covered by the banquet table and tablecloth, he reached for his jeans to check. No, he hadn't come — but damn!

"Hey, Armpit!" hollered the mustachioed man.

"Whattaya want, Costello?" answered the chunky fellow with the ponytail.

"You know what we're here for, doncha?"

"Of course!" he said, turning to the crowd. "And you know what we're here for, right?" The men exploded in cheers. "Then let's bring on the boobs!"

A stripper's drum cadence played. Each girl walked to the microphone at the front of the stage to introduce herself, each getting the most movement she possibly could from her breasts. Not being professionals, some had a little trouble, but the boys enjoyed the effort!

"I'm Janice. Like my jugs?"

"I'm Tonawanda. Meet my twins!"

"I'm Sandy. Get a load of my sandbags!"

"My name is Tamara. These are my ti..."

Armpit and Costello raised a finger in warning. The girl stammered a bit, then continued.

"These are my towers!"

The two hosts applauded in appreciation. The girls were meeting the Vocabulary requirement quite nicely.

"I'm Renata. These are the Rockies!"

"I'm Becca. Say hello to my big, bulging, babies!"

"I'm Cherie. Put your hands on my shelf!"

Mickey swore the girl he now knew as Cherie looked him in the eye as she lewdly licked her lips.

"And I'm Belinda," said the substantial blonde with the glasses as she unbuttoned her heavy coat. "And these are my... bombs."

Belinda reached below the massive prow formed by her tits and raised them so that they covered her face. They were covered with her loosely woven bikini top... but ripe flesh poked through all over. After the crowd gasped at the way the huge appendages covered her face and poked at the air above her head... Belinda abruptly pulled her hands away and let them drop. They dropped with a thud and continued moving. The men applauded in hushed awe as Belinda grinned from ear to ear.

As the music continued, Armpit and Costello grabbed two stools and sat center stage. They motioned for all eight contestants to crowd around them. Cherie almost missed the signal as she was leaning forward and doing a shimmy just for Mickey. Belinda shrewdly walked behind where the hosts were seated and framed both their heads with her humungous hooters. The music ended and the men in the lounge exploded into applause.

"Hey, Armpit! I forgot to mention the grand prize this morning," said Vinny Costello.

"Well, by all means!" said Armpit.

"It's an all-expense-paid breast reduction operation from Metro Plastic Surgery," he explained. The audience applauded politely. "Armpit, since this is what they call a trade deal," continued Costello.

"Right," said Armpit. "We mention them and they trade us that for the prize."

"Depending on who wins," said Costello, arching his eyebrows and turning around to face Belinda's imposing architechture. "We might have to mention them a lot!"

The crowd broke into laughs and applause. Armpit agreed. "I see what you mean," he said, gesturing toward big Belinda. "Metro Plastic Surgery, Metro Plastic Surgery, Metro Plastic Surgery!"

Belinda was really beginning to enjoy the attention.

"Well, you've met the contestants and you've surveyed their frontal real estate in the Half-a-Swimsuit contest," grinned Costello.

"Now it's time to get to know them better! Let's begin the interviews!" said Armpit, motioning to the first girl to step up to the microphone.

Vivian gave her friend Cherie the thumbs-up. She was doing very well, she thought. Vivian jumped when she felt a finger tap her on the shoulder. She turned to see two shy young men.

"I — I," stammered one. "I can't believe you're not up there," he said.

"Yeah, you've got the prettiest... uh... front here!" said his friend.

Vivian blushed at the very thought of a man talking to her. "Thank you," she said, nearly in a whisper.

"Um — could we sit down?" asked the first fellow.

"Yeah, we want to see them up close!" piped up his pal. The first young man shot him a dissapproving look.

"It's okay," smiled Vivian, touched and flattered. "There's two empty seats," she said, motioning with her head.

"Where?" said the boys, their eyes clearly someplace else.

Vivian knowingly put her finger in front of her chest and pointed to the chairs.

"Oh! Right!" they said, stumbling into their seats.

----------

Mickey didn't hear a word of the first six interviews. He was staring right at Cherie. This girl had a round-bodied confidence, a hearty sexuality, and a chubby flirtatious streak that made Mickey melt. And then there were her tits, hard-nippled and oh-so-prominent in her hot pink bikini top. Could he... could he get up the nerve to talk to her? He had to, somehow. As he did his best to plan his strategy, he saw his busty dream girl step up to the Rockin' 92 microphone.

"So, Cherie," said Armpit. "Is it Share-ey, or Share-ee?"

"Share-ey," she said, leaning into the microphone, exposing miles of creamy cleavage. "Because I love to share... with the right person."

Mickey was certain that Cherie looked him straight in the eye when she said that. He nearly stood up to claim his prize! He thought better of it, and ordered another beer.

"You got enough to share, that's for sure!" cracked Costello. "You got names for those two?"

"Of course," she purred. "They're my Pride," she said, lifting the left boob, "and Joy," she finished, lifting the right one. 

"Well, you're a contender, that's for sure," mused Armpit. "We can't wait to see what Pride and Joy have planned for the Talent Competition!"

Cherie smiled what she hoped was a knowing and sexy smile and she stepped back into line with the other girls. In truth, she had no idea what she would do for the Talent Competition. Maybe that cute guy who kept staring at her would give her an idea...

A rough-looking man with graying hair came into the lounge and began surveying the girls up and down. When he spotted Belinda, shamelessly exposing her breasts in that knitted, practically transparent halter top... he fumed. He couldn't believe his wife would do that to him. Bo tried to wave to catch her attention, but Belinda was too intoxicated by the adoration she was feeling from Armpit and Costello's audience. No appearance by her insensitive and boorish husband was going to spoil her good time!

"So let's hear from our final contestant, Belinda!" said Armpit, and the men broke into warm applause. Well, thought Belinda, if it's sheer size — this competition was over!

"Belinda, I understand you have two grown children," asked Armpit.

"Yes, that's true," admitted the bespectacled blonde.

"That's amazing," said Armpit.

Belinda smiled. "Because I look too young to have grown children?"

"No," he retorted. "Because you're obviously still breast-feeding."

The audience laughed, hooted, and hollered. Belinda's husband Bo fumed, muttered, and just got angrier and angrier. Not at Belinda. At all these assholes. Who did they think they were, looking at his wife like that?

"So tell us once again, Belinda," asked Vinny Costello. "Just how big are they?"

Belinda grabbed the microphone stand and pulled it close. Just for emphasis on her answer, she shoved the metal pole the mike was mounted on between her massive monsters and let the microphone stick out her cleavage. "Forty L," she said, prompting a cheer from the fellas.

"That's your bra size?" marveled Armpit.

"No," said Belinda, with a devilish twinkle in her eye. "That's their zip code." With that, she dislodged the mike stand from her cleavage with a 'pop', and walked away, making sure everyone could see the way her breasts swayed from side to side, even from behind. The ovation was immense.

"Well, one contestant is clearly way out front!" laughed Armpit, as Belinda threw her shoulders back and thrust her chest forward to illustrate his point. "Time for the talent competition! Let's start with Janice and her jugs. A juggling act, maybe?"

Bo was wild-eyed after that display from his wife. He elbowed his way to the front of the crowd. It killed him to see Belinda getting all this attention. He wanted all those men to know those L-cuppers were his! Only his!

Cherie decided what she'd do for her talent. When Armpit and Costello called on her, she stepped up to the mike and said, "My Pride and Joy are ready — but they need a volunteer." She focused on the cute guy with the canvas shirt. "Mickey — could you step up here and help?"

Mickey stood up, thunderstruck. It was like a dream come true. Cherie beckoned him to come closer. "Mickey looks thirsty," purred Cherie. "And we'd like to help him out. Sit down in front of us, Mickey. Would you like a beer?"

Mickey sat down, facing Cherie standing before him, and just nodded. Cherie twisted the top off a beer bottle and slipped the cold vessel into her cleavage. Firmly grasping her tits from either side, she demostrated an amazing ability to hold and manipulate the full bottle of beer. Mickey's eyes widened. As he slowly opened his mouth, Cherie carefully tipped the bottle toward him and poured. The audience applauded this clever use of cleavage.

Mickey was in love.

---------

Bo walked from side to side in front of the stage, trying to catch his wife's eye. Belinda's nearsightedness served her well in this instance — she never knew her husband was in the audience at all. The enthusiastic and warm reception she was receiving was starting to make her think she had been wrong about how men would react to her bounty. She was more than a novelty act. These guys thought she was sexy!

-------------

"All right, Belinda," said Costello. "Time for the forty-Ls to perform in the talent portion of our pageant!"

"Okay," said Belinda, walking to the microphone and setting her hugeness into delicious motion. "I got this idea from watching my husband crush an aluminum beer can against his head. I've got something bigger and better to do the same thing. Two things, in fact!"

One of the Highlander's busboys brought Belinda two empty Pabst Blue Ribbon cans. Belinda placed them on one of the banquet tables and again gathered her immense appendages in her arms. On a count of three, she dropped them like bombs onto the cans, flattening them thoroughly. Once again the men cheered her cleverness!

"I don't think there's any reason to pussy-foot around," said Armpit, reveling in his choice of words. "I think we're all ready to crown Miss Too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing."

"For the sheer bigness of her boobs," said Costello.

"The heaviness of her hangers," added Armpit.

"The cleverness of her casabas," continued Costello.

"And the fortitude of her forty-L-cuppers! ... 

"There's no question. The title and the crown has to go to the woman we've taken to calling 'Ohio'," said Costello.

"That's right — 'Ohio', because where other women have cleavage..." continued Armpit.

"...she has Cleveland. Miss Too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing can be none other than... the famous forty-L cupper herself — Belinda!" said Costello with a flourish. Belinda stepped forward and raised her arms like a prize fighter, the motion of her arms again setting her Volkswagens into overdrive.

"Goddam it, stop right there!" called the wild-eyed man pacing in front of the stage.

"Bo!" said Belinda, truly startled. "I didn't know you were here!"

"No wife of mine is winning a breast reduction!" he snarled. "No fucking way!"

"That's no fricking way, sir, or we lose our license," said Costello, trying to intervene.

"Come on, Belinda," hollered Bo. "Let's go home."

"But Bo," pleaded the well-padded wife, "don't you see how thrilled these young men are to see me? To see what you've been taking for granted? Can't you hear that they're turned on?"

"Goddam right I can hear it, and I don't like it!" said Bo, holding Belinda close. "I'd like to beat the living hell out of every one of these guys, rip their eyes out of their sockets, and shove 'em up their asses!" he ranted.

"Oh, Bo," said Belinda, breathless. "That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me!" She hugged her man so forcefully, she was in danger of wearing two huge, tit-shaped indentations into his torso. "Let's go home," she whispered.

"Yeah, let's," Bo agreed.

"Wait a minute!" said Armpit. "What about the all-expenses-paid breast reduction from Metro Plastic Surgery?"

Bo gave him a look that would freeze blood. "Touch those ta-tas," he said, "and you die."

"Can't argue with that," stammered Armpit, as the married couple disappeared.

Costello jumped in to fill the dead air. "In this case, we go to our runner-up! The coveted Miss Too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing title goes to... Cherie!"

Cherie didn't even look away from Mickey. "No, thank you," she said, removing the empty beer bottle from her cleavage. "I'm taking Mickey home. There's other things I want to put in his mouth. Come on, handsome."

"You know when I knew you were the one for me?" said Mickey as they left the stage. "When you called me by name. It must have been meant to be. How did you know?"

Cherie smiled. "It's embroidered over your pocket, Einstein," she laughed.

"Oh!... yeah," said Mickey, blushing.

"Vivian?" said Cherie, peering into the audience to find her friend. "I can't give you a ride home, sweetie. You understand."

"No problem," said her busty companion, looking at her new throng of admirers. "I think I can find my own way home!" Behind them, all the other contestants found their way off the stage, into the arms of loved ones and appreciative spectators. Soon the entire stage was bare except for Armpit and Costello.

"So — what the hell do we do now?" asked Costello.

"What the heck? How should I know?" said Armpit. "We got this great prize and no winner."

"Uh, tune in tomorrow to find out what we're gonna do about the Miss Too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing Pageant!" said Costello to the listening audience.

--------

"Good morning, everyone! Get your carcass out of bed!"

"I'm Armpit!"

"And I'm Costello. And you're tuned to Morning Mayhem on Rockin' 92!"

The Bachman-Turner Overdrive underscore began as Armpit and Costello signed on the air.

"If you were listening yesterday— " began Armpit.

"Or if you were there," offered Costello. "You know that we did not crown a Miss Too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing. Seems our contestants had second thoughts about breast reduction!"

"But don't worry, friends! We've worked things out with Metro Plastic Surgery! Since we've already mentioned them all over the place, we've done our part."

"And they still owe us a prize! So — we're going to hold a new pageant, and the winner will get an all-expenses-paid breast augmentation from Metro Plastic Surgery!"

"A boob job for your baby! Give us a call if you'd like to be a contestant."

"Hey, Armpit!"

"Yeah, Costello?"

"I just took a couple of calls. We got two contestants already!"

"Yeah? Who?"

"Belinda and Cherie."

"What? They were there yesterday! Don't they understand that we're not giving away a reduction anymore?"

"Oh, they understand all right! They want to enter again so they can go bigger!"

"Yaaaaah!"

Rim-shots, cymbals, honks, moos, and boings... 



Miss Torres Makes a Man



WARNING: The following is a work of erotic fan fiction, the events of which are completely made up and did not happen, and is no true reflection of the persons, wrestlers, events, promotions etc depicted within. This material is unsuitable to be viewed by those under the legal age limit of viewing pornographic material in your current country of residence. 

Featuring: Eve Torres (WWE).

Miss Torres Makes A Man 

A WWE erotic story

* * *

In late Summer of 2012, following a live event by the world leader in sports entertainment the WWE, the current Assistant to the Smackdown General Manager as well as being a fully fledged WWE Diva herself, the beautiful but manipulative Eve Torres is stepping out of a limousine as she finishes checking her cell phone. She is clad in professional attire of a red shirt that hugs nicely to her thick ass, a black blouse with a black top underneath that nicely shows off her large, rounded chest, and topped off with high heels and stylish, black glasses. 

As she approaches the hotel where she'll be staying the night, she's suddenly and rudely pushed aside by a blonde woman in a far less than classy dress. "Watch it! Bride to be coming through!" The blonde yells, dragging an attractive and handsome, but sheepish looking man with short hair who must be the soon-to-be husband of the blonde, who mouths "sorry!" to her as he's pulled into the hotel.

Narrowing her eyes, she glares at the couple and grits her teeth for a moment. "We'll see about that bitch..." The often vengeful Diva states as she looks to the hotel room staff who is unloading the limo. "Let me take that bag... I'll need to... Settle something that just came up... Have the rest taken up to my room in about an hour or so." Eve states, and the staff man nods and allows her to take the travel case that she pulls behind her entering the hotel.

Letting her calculating manner take over, she surveys her targets as she easily slips into the usual hotel hustle, checking in but eavesdropping on the same couple as they stand just next to her.

"No! You aren't going out with "the boys" on some dumb last night of freedom! You're gonna go and stay in your damn room while me and the girls hit the town in an hour or so!" The bitchy blonde rants to the man who is just standing with a look that shows he's heard this all before.

"Yes, yes darling..." The man weakly says, offering no resistance.

Smirking, Eve watches the blonde storm off towards a separate elevator while the fiance far more slowly heads towards the other one. By the time her check in has finished, the blonde has long gone, but the man has just pushed the button to call the elevator, giving the slyly smirking Torres all the time to come up behind unnoticed, already with a plan in mind of revenge and entering the same lift as he does. When the doors close, he reaches to press a floor button but instead she grabs his wrist, making him pull back as she presses a button for her floor.

"What a shame... What a shame indeed..." Eve says, staring at him through her glasses.

"Uh, I'm sorry?" The quite handsome and nicely toned looking man, wearing casual trousers and a shirt apologizes, even though he doesn't know what, if anything, he's done wrong.

"You should be! I mean, being with that... Thing? Your future wife? Some gutter dwelling trash? A mouthy little bitch of a girl?" She badmouths the blonde from before, making him squirm on the spot.

"Ummmm... Well, she... I mean, she's really..." He mumbles weakly, but is soon made to gasp when forcefully she reaches forward and grabs him by the balls through his trousers.

"She's a dumb fucking bitch! A little girl playing dress up in a real woman's world... My world..." Torres states in a commanding tone as she squeezes his package. "And you... You look like a weak little shit of a boy in a world supposed to be filled with men!"

"I... Oh fuck!! Please, I... Ahhhh!" He groans, forced up against the wall of the lift by her as she stares deep into his eyes.

"Please? Please what?? I eat pieces of trash like you for breakfast, and kick the trashy asses of whores like your future wife every damn night!" She states with narrowed eyes, still holding onto him by his nuts. "So listen up you fucking prick... I'm going to do you, and your skank wife-to-be a favour... I'm gonna make you into a fucking man for the first time in your shitty life. You understand me?" She states with a commanding voice.

"Ahhhhh! I... Ye... Yes! Yes Ma'am! I... I understand!" He quickly stutters out, feeling her gripping his balls more firmly to put the threat across.

"That's Miss Torres to you, you weak streak of piss!" She snaps, finally letting go of his package to step back, now pointing to her travel case. "Carry my bag for me, if you can even muster the power to do that!" She orders with another powerful glare.

"Yes Miss Torres!" The already being manipulated man says as he quickly moves to pick up the case. "By the way, my name is..."

"You'll fucking speak when spoken to!" The WWE Diva snaps, getting into his face and making him back away out of intimidation. At that moment, the doors open as the floor she's staying on has been reached. "Follow me little boy... Let's see if we can make a damn miracle happen..." She motions with a hand, stepping out of the elevator and indeed, he obediently follows her out.

Smirking out of his sight, Eve knows this is all too easy for her. She doesn't know who either him or that woman who dared to barge into her are or even what their names are, and nor does she care. She's Eve Torres, former WWE Divas Champion, the woman who was Executive Administrator for both Raw and Smackdown, and now wields power in the WWE again as the Assistant to the Smackdown General Manager. She's been making a career of manipulating and controlling men in sports entertainment for months now, so to make some random, stuck up bimbo pay for daring to disrespect her? This will be all too easy, especially from the way she's got this man wrapped around her finger already.

Reaching the door, Torres swipes herself in and enters with the still unknown to her man following in behind. As soon as the door is closed and lock, she turns and grabs him by the shirt, surprising him by tossing him down onto the bed with a forceful thud that makes him groan. 

"Stay there! Don't fucking move!" Eve orders, watching as obeying the order he stays in place, making her smirk as she moves and opens up her travel case. Fishing out, she licks her lips sinisterly as she takes out a set of handcuffs with a key, setting it aside on a table before heading over, gripping one wrist and then the other as she restrains him with his arms now locked together behind his back. 

The shock alone of this unexpected turn makes his eyes widen as he's then roughly hauled up by the pants, dropped down to his knees in front of the bed as she takes her time slipping onto it in front of him, smirking deviously as she pushes her glasses up onto her face and tosses her long, brunette hair back.

"Look at you... You worthless little man..." She taunts cruelly as she stares down at him. "No wonder you have to settle for some tacky bitch like your future wife... You're not even man enough to get a real woman... Someone smart, sexy, and powerful like me..." Reaching down, she casually takes off one high heel, and then the other shoe, shifting back just a little and making him watch as she raises up her gorgeous and smooth feet up towards his face as stays on his knees before him. "A pathetic worm like you doesn't even deserve to gaze at someone like me! But I'll let you have one night, one taste of the best this world has - being with a woman like me. All you have to do is obey every single fucking command I give you! Is that understood?" She snaps down at him with a glare that shows she isn't messing around.

"Yes! Yes Miss Torres! I'll do everything, anything you want me to!" He quickly responds, already showing how much of a weakling he is, perhaps even more than before than when he was with the woman he's going to marry.

"Well, you know your place... Shame that's not a compliment for a scumbag prick like you!" She mocks as she keeps her feet raised in front of him. "Now let me show you why a real woman like me will always be better than whatever bitch you've had to settle with... I'll grant you the honour of worshiping these feet that have kicked the asses of wannabe leading ladies for years..." She states, wiggling her toes a little as she carefully references her employment, having already figured out that this man has for whatever reason (no doubt being whipped by his future wife) never seen her before. "Don't just sit there! Get to work maggot!" Torres orders with a devilish glare, tapping her new slave's nose firmly with her big toe, and his flinching at the touch makes her smirk as she tauntingly wiggles her toes at him.

Nodding in obedience, the young man shuffles back towards the bed, raising his face up towards those pretty, tanned feet as he again draws in the scent of the WWE Diva. Moving in, her plants a kiss onto the big toe that had bumped his nose a moment ago, and then a second, before he moves down to kiss over all the toes of the right foot in a meticulous, controlled manner. Staying silent, he glanced up to see the still smirking beauty watching on, so continued on with the task as he moved back across, kissing the underside of the toes now as he reaches the big toe and then moves across to the other foot to deliver the same treatment.

"That's the best you can do? I ordered you to worship my feet you worthless prick!" Eve snaps with narrowed eyes behind her stylish glasses, making the point clear as she prods his cheek with the right foot as he's lightly kissing the toes of the left one. "Use your tongue... Clean my gorgeous feet and don't you dare miss a spot!" She warns with a snap of her fingers, making him look up in fear from the sudden sound, but once again he nods his head to show he understands, not daring to face her wrath by speaking even though he was spoken to.

Staying working on the left foot, he lowers his face down to the heel as he sticks out his tongue, running it over and around the ball of the foot in a steady, clockwise motion. Licking over the bottom part of that sexy foot, he twists his head so he can slide his tongue over the sides to work her over back and forth, and then dipping down further to worship the heel with a couple of flicks. Moving up higher, he finds himself groaning as he obeys the manipulative beauty by licking over the ankle, then delivering a lick up the side of her foot so he can move to the toes, but instead opting to work over the sole as he licks across the bottom of her foot.

"Now that's more like it! Get that worthless little tongue worshiping my feet!" Eve commands with a laugh, her toes wiggling out of instinct as he continues to do as she demands, licking away at her foot as he slides up and down the other side. Moving upward to run his tongue across those toes, the long brush that each toe receives making her let out a slight sigh of approval as she watches on with a controlling faze at the handcuffed man she's made into her foot fetish slave for the night.

Just as he's about to move up to try and further lick the tops of her toes, she brings that foot up and tilts it, resting the slightly wet with his spit foot onto the top of his head in a very humiliating fashion. He's got a job to focus on however as she now sticks her other foot right into his face, and he wisely doesn't hesitate to begin licking away at the right foot now as he runs that obedient tongue across and over the sole of the foot. He groans again, getting the strong smell of her feet right into his nose and the texture of her tanned skin as he drags his tongue up and down her foot, before moving to the heel as she licks around the sides and over the lower ball as well to be extra sure.

"Mmmmm... That's right... A little shit like you knows his fucking place... Good for licking my sexy feet..." The former Divas Champion smirks with a slight moan, not showing if she's getting off on just controlling this stranger she doesn't even know the name off, or from pleasure she might be getting from the way he's licking away at one of her feet while she rests the other on the top of his short haired head. 

"You should be fucking honored, you know that? I'm allowing you to worship the same pair of feet I use to walk all over much stronger, tougher men than you will ever be..." She harshly taunts with another laugh, running her hands over her blouse-covered tits as she keeps her gaze down on the dominated husband-to-be that she's got pleasing her feet as he runs his tongue now over the toes of that foot.

He groans in response, still focusing on appeasing her with his tongue as he again leaves a light layer of saliva over her toes from the careful and focused licking motion, returning to lick the soles of that foot with a slow up and down motion to be extra sure he's doing a good enough job for her. He's been completely put into a salve role for the gorgeous sports entertainer, not daring to stop worshiping that foot as he flicks his tongue again at her foot just below the toes as he stays kneeling by the bed, handcuffed with his arms behind his back but with a noticeable tent being made in his pants.

"This is barely decent!" Eve snaps, suddenly shoving him backwards with a foot to the face, making him pathetically fall back onto his ass on the hotel room floor. "I've had local jobbers pleasure my perfect feet better than that useless attempt!" She further insults him as she swings her long legs over so she can stand up from the bed.

"I... I'm sorry Miss Torres!" The controlled husband-to-be pleads, voice trembling as he stays seated. "I'll... I'll try to be better, I promise!"

"Damn right you will you slimy piece of shit!" Torres states with a glare, grabbing him by the hair and making him yelp in pain as she hauls him up to his feet, tossing him over onto his back onto the bed. Strutting forward, she grabs his belt to undo it, roughly hauling his trousers and boxers down, revealing a decently sized cock of six or so inches and a little thick to match, which perhaps to another woman would be a nice treat to see. 

"Figures... A man with no "balls", and barely a cock to go with it..." Eve claims with a roll of her eyes in disgust, letting his pants stay around his ankles as she moves around, hauling up her skirt to show off a pair of black, lacy panties covering her pussy as she moves up onto the bed. "Show your mistress how sorry you are, you dirty piece of trash! Make out with my asshole like your worthless little life depends on it!" She snaps the order, reaching down to pull her panties to the side so both her trimmed pussy and her tight looking asshole are shown off as she lowers her thick backside onto him.

With no place to go, handcuffed and now trapped under her and on the beg, the man who's going to be marrying another woman tomorrow can only groan as she smothers his facial features with her stunning ass, grinding her cheeks down and over his face which to many other women would certainly be considered cute or handsome. However to this controlling beauty she just sees a tongue that needs to be properly used, making sure to push her snug asshole over his mouth and lips, making herself moan just from the dominate feeling she's getting by all too easily bending him to do whatever she wants.

"Mmmm... Yes... You pathetic little fuck! Stick that tongue in... Lick my beautiful ass..." The former WWE Diva Search winner smirks proudly, letting out another laugh when she indeed feels the still unnamed to her, not that she clearly cares about who he is, man underneath her start to flick his tongue up against her anal entrance. She allows herself a moment to run her hands again over her large breasts, giving them a squeeze as she grinds her backside down firmly over his face to keep him pressed right up, making sure that tongue that had been worshiping her feet is now pressing against her asshole.

"Mmmmmpphh!! Mmmmm..." He groans up into that thick, tanned ass as he licks over and around her asshole, feeling how tight she is back there but knowing he'll have to do a lot more than just this to appease the controlling, busty brunette. Probing that tight entrance, he presses his tongue right against her, pushing in to meet resistance as she grinds her full ass cheeks over and down against his face, making him grunt as for a long and no doubt deliberate moment his oxygen supply is cut off by her dominate face sitting action.

"Little shit! Get to fucking work before I have you thrown out of this hotel!" Eve snaps, leaning forward and grabbing his dick by the base, giving a harsh squeeze than makes a cry of pain be heard even as muffled as he is by her incredible and sexy ass as she still is able to rub her booty all across his face. 

"Mmmm... Yes you lowly piece of garbage... Eat that ass... You won't ever get close to a perfect ass like this again..." She groans with a smirk, feeling his tongue dart in and out of her butt as he attempts to push further into her already lightly damp from his saliva asshole. In the meantime, she raises a hand to spit into it, bringing it back down to start roughly stroke off his stiff length, licking her lips in quite a sinister fashion as she further owns the handcuffed male underneath her as she sits right on his face while now stroking off his dick in quite a cruel and teasing manner.

Letting out a pathetic whipper at the rough way, unlike anything he's ever felt before in his life, his dick is being stroked with hard squeezes and sudden pumps, he instinctive doubles his efforts into pleasuring her backside in the hopes to get some reprieve from this punishment. Forcing his tongue up into her ass, he starts to lick and probe around as deep as he can get into that tightness, working saliva into her back passage and managing to slightly twist his tongue around inside her. He deeply groans, feeling slightly light headed along with all the shame and humiliation he's experiencing from being so easily dominated by a woman he's never met before who is now roughly rubbing her ass over his face so much that it's getting harder and hard for him to breath as he eats out her booty from underneath.

"Oooooh... My little ass licker is actually decent enough at something... How unexpected..." The gorgeous WWE Diva mocks as she lets out a moan, squeezing her own boobs through her top as she raises her butt up to smack it down against his face, smirking as he quickly shoves his eager to please tongue back into her rump like a good little slave. 

"Yes... Know your place little worm... My ass is far too good for the likes of you... Be grateful I'm letting some common trash like you... Mmmm... Get this duty of worshiping me..." She lets out another cackle of sinful delight as she rocks her hips back and forth, further grinding her stunning and thick rear all across the man she's on top off, delivering a different sort of teasing now to his cock as she drags her nails up and down the sides of his shaft, smirking as she hears him pathetically squeal under her ass from the discomfort of her cruel touch.

"Ahhhhhh! Mmmmmphhh!! Uhhhhhrrrrhhhh..." The decently hung and attractive enough man whines with his face covered up by her controlling face sitting position, his tongue stuffed right up into that tight butt as he probes and licks around as deep as he can get into her back passage. Beads of sweat are already forming over his forehead from the effort he's having to put into eating out her ass like this, along with the rough way she's punishing and jerking off his cock, not to mention all the shameful feelings he's having to deal with as she continues to dominate every moment of this sudden sexual encounter.




Miss Torres Makes a Man



"Disgusting... Your mother never tell a son of a bitch like you to never talk with your mouth full?" Eve spits out with venom as she glances back with disgust, shaking her long haired head before she mercifully lifts herself up from him, allowing him to gasp deeply as he draws in much needed air. "That tiny dick somehow managed to stay hard... Perhaps you've gotten all your practice for lasting from jerking off to porn vids online, huh?" She further mocks as she stands up from the bed, taking her time to pull down the zip of her blouse and peel it off her curvy body.

"N... No Miss Torres! I've had sex a couple of times before with women!" The still unnamed and unknown to him man says to her as he stays laying down on the bed.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she reaches down and grabs him by the hair, forcing his upper body up so she can deliver a stinging slap right across the face that makes him weakly squeal in pain. "Don't you dare compare me to whatever little girl you've been with! A worthless, weak little boy like you probably paid some two-bit street walker for a five minute fuck!" Torres snaps as she lowers both her skirt and her panties down those lovely long legs of hers. 

"I am a real woman... Strong, sexy, and powerful... Unlike whatever skank you're having to settle with for marriage..." Being in no rush with her slave still handcuffed on on his back on the bed, she pulls the black top up and over her head, and soon reaches back to unclasp and remove her bra, letting her large and perfectly rounded tits bounce free. With only her stylish black rimmed glasses remaining on her face, he smirks confidently as she gets up onto the bed and swings a leg over, mounting his lap. "Get ready you fucking disgusting waste of life! You get the honour of finally experiencing some real sex for the first and only time from a real woman..."

"MMMMM!! Ohhhhhh holy fuck!! Ahhhhhh..." The abused and used man moans, arching off the bed as she lowers her tight, wet pussy down all the way onto his cock, making it look all too easy as she takes him in to the hilt, allowing her to smirk and toss her long brunette hair back as she grinds her snatch down into her crotch. With slaps from both hands she sends him back down onto his back on the bed, still with his arms handcuffed behind his back, leaving him truly trapped underneath the devilishly grinning beauty as she further toys with her new plaything by rocking hips back and forth with his whole length still stuffed up into her pussy.

"Oh yes... Pathetic little boy... I'm too good for you... This hot fucking pussy is too much for someone like you to handle..." The former WWE Divas Champion lets out a cruel laugh as she begins to ride his dick with a commanding pace, steadily raising and lowering herself onto almost his whole length as she lifts up until the crown is kept inside before sharply dropping down to the base and them smoothly repeating the motion. 

"Mmmmm! I can barely feel you inside me! I might as well... Mmmmm... Be bouncing on my own fingers right now... At least I'd get off on that..." She continues the trash talking with a sinister but sexy smile, glaring down at the groaning man below her, and in more ways than one as she effortlessly rides his decently sized member that would be more than just fine for a normal red blooded woman to feel pleasure from, but for her high, demanding standards his size is only good enough to toy around with for her own twisted enjoyment.

Closing his eyes, he can only moan and take this verbal abuse along with the dominating way she's owning his cock with bounce after balls deep bounce on his rock hard rod, her thick ass cheeks slapping down forcefully into his thighs each time she completes a motion and falls to take all his inches deep into her snug snatch that feels like it could handle a far longer and thicker dick than his. Groaning, sweat continues to appear over his nicely toned and still semi-clothed body as his pants and underwear are still hanging on his legs off the edge of the bed he's being fucked on as the stunning, curvacious sports entertainer controls the entire situation and keeps his shaft moving in and out of her pussy as she rides away on him.

"Mmmmm... Oh yes... This is how a real woman fucks... A real, beautiful, dominate female... Nothing like the cheap tramp I bet you're going to be marrying!" Torres lets out a his, her large tits bouncing in time with the motion of her tanned body as she raises and lowers herself smoothly but with speed to keep the smacking sound of skin meeting skin ringing out around the hotel room she's made into a fem-dom sex den at the expense of the groaning, dominated male she's on top off. Narrowing her eyes to glare through her stylish glasses, she reaches down to grab his handsome face, forcing him to look up at her. 

"Say it you fucking little shit! Say I'm better than your trash fiancee! Mmmmm! Say that I'm more of a woman than she is!!" She demands with a yell, painfully gripping his face and still able to keep her tight and wet pussy moving up and down onto his dick at the same time, resulting in him groaning deeply from the mix of sinful pleasure and discomfort from her rough, controlling actions.

"AHHHHH!! You... You are better Miss Torres!! MMMMM... You're... OH GOD!! You're so much better than... MMMM... My wife will ever be!!" The controlled male pathetically responds as he moans, feeling his dick being gripped tightly by her inner walls as she keeps on riding away with an effortless pace all the way up and down on his pole that's now slick from her juices as despite her repeated insults, she's gotten off on his nasty encounter even if mostly on how much she's been bossing him about during it. 

"MMMMM... OH FUCK!! You're... You're the greatest... AHHHHHH!! The hottest, most powerful woman around Miss... MMMMM!! Miss Torres!!" He manages to grunt out, gasping and groaning as he is truly powerless to stop her from having her wicked, forceful way with him and his average sized and thickness dick, making it ram in and out of her snug love tunnel with repeated sharp bounces on him with the kind of pace that long time porn stars would pay to know the secrets of.

"Mmmmm! Yes!! I am!! I'm the fucking best!!" Eve wickedly laughs, revelling in her manipulative ways that have turned this young man into a lowly, pussy-whipped slave as she swiftly and steadily bounces her perfectly curved body on his dick to take all of his inches up into her damp box every time she lowers herself down before quickly rising up to repeat the motion. 

"Better than the rest of those Diva sluts... Better than your tramp wife... Better than... Ahhhhh! Mmmmm!! Any fucking whore on this damn planet!!" He moans her rant out with a seductive and confident grin, using her hands to squeeze and grope her big, rounded tits to further make herself groan, and the fact her pussy had left his cock coated with a clear layer of her juices shows how much she's been getting off on this dominating situation. Even with all the pleasure she's feeling as she takes his dick straight up into her snatch she never loses focus or control, keeping him pinned down onto his handcuffed arms with his back down on the hotel room bed, and even taking the time to push her sexy glasses back up her noise as she bounces swiftly on that cock.

"MMMMM!! Holy SHIT!! AHHHHHH... MMMMM..." The man who still hasn't even been allowed the dignity to let his name be known to the controlling and beautiful female wrestler lets out another deep groan, sweat covering his face and making the clothing he still has on his nicely toned body be ruined and sticking now to his frame, showing the effects her dominance has had over him. His cock twitches within that tight, wet pussy that glides back and forth over his length at a perfectly timed pace, lifting up just a few inches so she can soon drive back down and make her butt cheeks smack off his body when they connect to make him groan out loudly while her moan of dirty delight is of a far more controlled tone.

Feeling his member throbbing within her snatch, she smirks with a lick of her lips, raising a eyebrow as she brings her bouncing motion to a stop, once again grinding her pussy down against his crotch. "Awwww... My poor little boy can't handle a round with a real woman? Why am I not fucking surprised..." She taunts, lifting her body up and off of his pulsating tool as she slips off the bed to stand up, moving around towards his legs as she grabs a hold of his underwear, forcing them up all the way onto his package and pushing his dick under, making him hiss as his hard-on is now made to strain his boxers. 

"You didn't think I'd let some scumbag trash like you blow inside of a beautiful, powerful woman like me, did you?" Eve continues to mock her fuck toy, using one hand to squeeze his dick through his underwear, while her other hand pushes a couple of fingers into her own damp hole, already thrusting those digits in and out while she gropes the man she's been sexually dominating all the way through this sexual encounter. 

"Mmmm... You're fucking lucky I'm not kicking you out of here with blue balls to go with that yellow streak down your back..." She lets out another sinister laugh as she roughly strokes his cock through his underwear, able to feel that member throbbing through the material of his underwear. At the same time, she making herself moan out as she finger fucks her pussy with rapid back and forth pumps of her digits in and out of her wet hole, as despite how much she's been bad mouthing him over the course of this unforgettable for reasons good and bad night, he's play a part in turning her on.

"AHHHHH... Awwwwww FUCK!! Oh Miss Torres!! MISS TORRES!! MMMM!!" He groans and gasps, arching his back off the bed again in lust with his hands still cuffed behind his back, as even with the rough way she's groping and toying with his dick through his boxers it's still an incredible, pleasurable sensation. 

"MMMMM!! FUCK!! MISS TORRES!! MISS TORRESSSSSSSSSS!!" He moans out loudly her name as he starts to blow his load as Eve Torres jerks off his cock through his underwear, his dick pulsing and clear wetness appearing in his underwear as his load fires out but with nowhere to go, staining his boxers and no doubt making his dick sticky with his own spunk as she doesn't stop her cruel motion to force him to full unload onto himself.

"Mmmmm yes!! Scream my fucking name! Cream yourself you little shit!!" Torres actually seems to encourage him with another controlling smile, moaning herself as this sight and sound of him being forced to cum in his own boxers is more than enough to set her off, but she skillfully controls her moans so it doesn't appear like she's having an orgasm of her own. 

"Mmmmm... So pathetic... Look at you... Sweaty, disgusting, and now you've jizzed your fucking pants..." She mocks with a lick of her lips, pumping her fingers back and forth into her own pussy a couple more times until she's satisfied she's gotten pleasure enough out of this, pulling her juices covered fingers out of her snatch so she can stand up away from the bed.

Flipping her hair back and composing herself, she pushes her glasses back onto her nose. "Are you done? You'd better be, because I am with you." Eve states, grabbing his legs by the ankles so he can flip him over onto his front, making him groan as he is still in a clear daze from an orgasm he won't ever forget. Moving across, she grabs the keys for the handcuffs and moves back to the bed, unlocking the restraints from both wrists and she smirks when obediently he doesn't move his arms away from the position they'd been in even though he's got free movement.

"What the Hell are you waiting for? Get the fuck up!" Torres snaps as she hauls him up by the boxers to his feet, reaching down and forcefully pulling up his pants to even buckle them up from behind, making him still be in cum-stained and filled boxers underneath his trousers. Turning him around, she smirks confidently as she twirls around the handcuffs with a finger, taking his hand by the wrist before forcefully placing the cuffs into them along with the key.

"That my weak little man, is how a real woman does things... Now take my advice you fucking shit... If you want to make a damn impact? You control, you manipulate, and you do whatever it takes to get to the top." She directs his gaze down to handcuffs then back to her pretty, smirking face. 

"My suggestion? You go to your wife-to-be's room, put these cuffs to good use, and give her a night to never forget... And the first night of her never giving you another fucking order again!"

"...Never... Never again..." The man, who he still doesn't know the name of even after fucking him and making him cum, repeats to himself. "Never again... Never again!" He repeats, his voice changing like he's becoming a different person as clear confidence is appearing now.

With a smirk, she takes him by the arm, marching him to the door which she opens, and giving him a last nod and a sly smirk, she forcefully pushes him out the doorway, closing it and locking it and getting a last glimpse of what appears to be a determined look in the previously pussy-whipped man's eyes.

Letting out another laugh, Eve leans against the hotel room door for a moment as she shakes her head with a big smile. "Another simple man used and abused... And one less bitch that I have to step on to become the most powerful woman in the world..."

* * *

The next morning, the gorgeous Eve Torres is stepping out of the hotel elevator, dressed in another professional and sexy business suit attire, checking her phone as pulls her travel case behind her as she approaches the check in and out desk. Casually placing her room keycard on the desk as the receptionist takes it to check the system, she's still looking at her social media account when she glances up, catching the tail end of a conversation of two staff members on the desk.

"Yeah, Michelle from the morning cleaning team walked in to the room to find like a wedding dress ripped up all over the floor!" One of the two women says to the other "When she went into the bathroom, that blonde bitch from yesterday who was having the massive attitude about everything? She was fucking handcuffed to the shower railing, getting nailed up the ass! 

She swears, up the butt like it was a porno!"

"No way! Then what happened?" The other staff asks.

"Well she goes off, calls security and all that, but by the time they went up to the room both of them and their stuff was gone! I heard they were going to get married today but they can't be found... It's like something happened and they switched roles from her wearing the pants to him being in charge!"

"Damn... Must have been one Hell of a final night of freedom for him then!"

With a sly smile on her face, Torres licks her lips in a very satisfied manner. The only thing better than taking care of some bitch? Manipulating someone else to take care of it for her... Which reminded her, she has to set up a meeting with a certain Lithuanian Diva about dealing with a problematic two-tone haired Diva...

* * *