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Queenie

By: VladimirKnockoff



The senior girls would always come by the little downtown mall after school let out, fresh off from eighth period, smelling like notebooks and sunshine, browsing the aisles all straightbacked with nice postures and that plump youthful meat bouncing around in the ass of their jeanshorts. Late afternoons before my wife came home would find me hard at work on myself in the living room, sun slanting in the blinds, imagining those hard little forms grinding their plumpnesses down onto my prick, me shooting my hips upwards as I thought of the idea, intensely aroused by this new and forbidden fruit. I imagined most of them as virgins, particularly one gangly brunette I named Queenie with beautiful dark legs who would come into the record store sometimes still dressed in her soccer cleats and high socks, hints of babyfat which age had not yet etched off her cheeks (I knew her to be eighteen at least, she'd dropped her license and credit card once). I would try to save her, this my brown haired queen, till I knew I was close, and I would imagine those long legs all wrapped in a tangle around me as we fucked, that sweet face leaning back to netherland and calling out in her slight bracesmaid lisp, oh take me, oh take me. Thinking of her dimpled face twisted in anxious lust would electrify the tip of my prick and my hard-jerking hand motions would rush my spunk to its quick exit: the side of the coffee table, the rug, the low ceiling sometimes on the more intense days. Recently I had begun to come harder jerking off to my queen than I did climaxing at the hands (or loins) (or mouth) (or cleavage) of my wife. 

It had been a humid, predawn Monday morning in the height of August summer when I first found out Ellie, my wife, was cheating on me. Both of us were up too early, which was not unusual, as both of us were undiagnosed insomniacs. I stumbled blearily out the back of our little one bedroom apartment to the porch to read, dressed in nothing but boxers. I found her already there, lounging in the humidity, still dressed in the tight, form fitting dress she'd passed out in the night before after seeing some colleagues for drinks. 

My wife was once a beautiful woman -- she even sort of looks like what you might expect Queenie to look like in a few years, when she's older, save for that drawn-out exhaustion in her eyesockets -- yet now there was something almost haggard to her, something beaten. Age had not been kind to her face, though she was not yet thirty. Her thin form she kept, yet she had lost slightly too much weight to really be gorgeous. Seeing her there, then, in the predawn light, her long pale legs splayed out, her brown hair undone and carelessly cascading to the right side of her head, condensation forming on her forehead, her breasts creamy in the holdings of her bra (her dresses always showed too much cleavage, though it was and always had been her strongest attribute), I became overwhelmed by a cold, thoughtless lust. I tried to mask this, as I felt nothing at that moment for her emotionally, only an angry fascination with the triangular dip in her dress at her chest. 

"Morning," she said, opening one pale eye fully, heaving her breasts slightly. Intentionally, I imagined. 

"How was last night?" I asked.

"You see that Pirates game last night?" she said. "Unbelievable."

"Were you the only woman there again?" I ignored her in turn.

"It was alright," she said. "I'm just tired and can't sleep."

"You're always tired and can't sleep," I said. 

I hobbled over to her, still groggy, reaching down and taking the paper from her lap. As if answering me, she narrowed her shoulders sexily and her boobs crushed together. I kept my eye for a second too long on that milky collision instead of turning to the paper in my hand. 

"You always this horny in the mornings?" she said casually, my face buried in the sports as I stood.

"Huh?"

She nodded to my half erection, tenting my boxers at a downward yet obvious angle. "We never have sex in the mornings." She spoke it like a detached observation of innocuous consequence, the way one might mention the Jones' have only had two cars in their driveway this past week, as opposed to the typical three. Her statement was irrelevant anyway, we never had sex anymore period, never mind the mornings. I remembered drunkenly fucking her one Saturday night, could've been a week or a month ago, no way of knowing. I'd fallen asleep while still inside her, and she must've passed out too because when I woke my prick was woodening against the slick inside of her cushy thigh. I had forced my way back in her re-tightened cunt -- a moment of clarity amidst a night of three too many dark lagers, and spunked deep inside her after just a few minutes of thrusting. She never woke, lost in a rare heavy sleep.

"There's never time," I said, but that wasn't true and our insomnia proved it. She grabbed my shaft through the fabric, rough and tight in her palm, pulling me the few steps closer to her. Ellie had always had a hell of a grip, she knew that getting a guy off well required some muscle. Her fingers were small, her wrists petite, but both powerful, the result of a long career of strange fitness habits and an alternative yoga program which gave her that distinctive wiriness. 

The blood pumped freely to my groin and I felt myself stiffen, the resulting twitch of my length causing her to grin and look up at me. 

"I do love feeling you grow in my hands," she said softly, as if apologizing for this admittance. "It's so sexy."

I had just come to the point where words were beginning to grow difficult to find, her whisperings irrelevant. The humidity began to coat my skin, gave my chest a shine by the light of the porchlamp. Instead of yammering I kept silent as she leaned her head forward and began lathering kisses over my boxers. Her still-lipsticked mouth puckered the fabric, and I could feel the moistness soaking from her saliva against my prick. 

"Ellie," I said, perturbed by this teasing, aroused far more than I wanted to be. My erection now shot out at ninety degrees and rose steadily in tune with the ticks of my heartbeat and bloodflow. 

"There's something I need to tell you," she said, her words muffled slightly by my crotch. She had her hand between my legs now, fondling my testicles a little too roughly. By instinct, accident, I jerked my hips forward, slapped her in the nose with my hardening prick. 

"Oh?" I said between breaths, trying to maintain composure, ignoring my impulse to drop the lowered newspaper and knead her breasts between my hands. 

"You have to promise you won't get mad," she said. She had one finger under my boxers now, rubbing a firm line with her index from the back of my perineum near my anus to the middle of my nutsack. I thought of Queenie, those milelong legs up in the air, knee-high socks pressed against my chest. My prick slanted sharply upwards, the engorged stiffness enrapturing my entire crotch. 

"What is it?" I asked.

With her teeth she carefully unbuttoned the fly of my boxers and pulled my now near-vertical prick from its trappings. 

"I've been sleeping with Harry Davis from IT, at the bank, for the past eight months."

Things went silent for a time. She waited for my reaction with my dick hanging by her lips. She wouldn't just take it, I slowly understood. She wanted a clear exchange of values. Forgiveness, justification, must be earned by any blowing she would deign to do. Even after bringing a shamed man to full staff -- shamed by her own doings no less. Mine was a penis gorged by hope as much as lust. In her orifices I sought something else, I knew. Not blind lust. Not blind lust.

I pushed myself into her mouth, she shut her eyes as she took it and closed her lips around to complete the vacuum sucking effect. No choice for her there. She eyed me briefly. She had that spoiled look of a woman trying to be a teenage girl again. Seeking innocence where there was none. She was trying to will tears to come but that sadness was not there.

Some of her hair came down from her bangs and curtained the part of me that didn't fit inside her mouth. The way it tickled the flesh there made me faintly dizzy with the stream of fantasies that suddenly became desirable.

Exhibit A: Ellie hanging by her wrists from the ceiling of a dark basement and wearing a dark leather one-piece that wedgied her pussy and asscrack. Me slapping that leather tightened flesh between her legs with my open palm, her calling out to the dark.  

Exhibit B: Walking down a city block with Ellie, slamming her over a metal café table and tearing the fabric of the jeans from her ass before penetrating her rectum. Cumming and then fucking her rectum with a stapped-on baseball bat to get my erection back up. 

Exhibit C: Being anywhere and penetrating her rectum. Oh the sweet sensation of nothing. 

As we breathed there that humid air, man and wife, her teeth on my cock, I contemplated that her penultimate failure. After dishonesty, a refusal of the ass. I'd had it once, from a tiny Vietnamese swimmer girl, senior year in college, long before I'd met Ellie. She was nineteen and on hallucinogenic mushrooms with her two sisters. I was twenty-two and drunk and wanted to stick my dick somewhere up in a warm spot inside a girl. I had no idea what that really meant. Vanessa was all of 4'10 and ninety-seven pounds and she felt featherweight straddling my lap while we made out on her tiny couch. She twirled a plant stem in her fingers and told me that her guardian angel said the only way the mushrooms would work is if she had an analgasm. It was that simple. I tugged her jeans back a little and shoved aside her panties. Her asshole was like a microscopic crater, narrower than a pinky finger. Oh that sweet sensation of nothing. Where a vagina was rubbery, pulling, suctioning, a rectum simply was nothing. An iron ring of puckered flesh and the intense heat of bowels and nothing.

Ellie was waiting for me to say something. I didn't. I began to thrust, slowly at first, watching myself disappear into her face, her eyes shut tight, my scrotum slapping lightly against her chin. Her teeth grazed my skin ever slightly. Soon I gave up this gentle lapping and threw myself onto the ground, my prick still in her mouth, holding her head under me and full out humping her face, fucking her head into the moist earth. She made loud noises stifled by my manhood, I heard her gag as I shoved my cock down the back of her throat. I found the point where I could make the deepest thrusts and managed to fit in to the hilt, holding the position with my hips pinioned and grinding for a few more seconds before squirting loose a sharp rope of cum into the back of her throat. She had her hands on my legs, trying to push me off, but I kept myself pressed down firmly upon her until I was sure I'd discharged every drop from my prick. When I was done I turned and walked swiftly back inside the house to take a shower. That would be the day I would finally have the courage to talk to Queenie.

Queenie



It was the summer after my sophomore year of college when I really got into cocksucking in a big way. Oh before then I had some experience but nothing great. I never went down on a guy until I was 19. When I was 15 my Dad had nicknamed me 'Queenie, The Late Starter' cause my body never really developed like a girl's should. I was barely out of a training bra when I graduated high school, and was still barely a small B cup 3 years later. But I doubt that Dad was thinking about me starting on giving head either late or not late. But I am Queenie -- that's my actual, legal name - an unusual name for an unusual girl.

I had a boyfriend for part of freshman year of college and a different one that summer and I blew both of them a number of times. It didn't mean much to me one way or t'other but they seemed to want it a lot and I liked both of them well enough to let them finger fuck me so I figured why not give something back. You know? Anyhow my first blowjob was over Christmas break my freshman year and I'd guess I went south on these guys maybe 30 times over the next year and a half. Probably would have been more but it was hard to find privacy and I've never been one -- even today -- to like giving head in a car or on a park bench somewhere. I like my comfort when I'm working I guess. Which is ironic if you consider that my first decent bj was on my knees in the dirt out in the woods. But I'm getting ahead of myself now.

One thing I never would do is to let the boys cum in my mouth back then. My sister Anne, who is a year older than me, told me it was gross and I didn't need to do it to please my guy. I figured she was my expert and so took her advice. I guess probably a little precum juice must have got on my tongue but I didn't mind it and that's way different anyhow. What I did notice is how much power I had over the guys from kneeside. It was unbelievable! I mean they were nice guys overall anyhow, but still with guys they always want their own way whether its which movie to see or when we should meet up to hang out or what dress I'm going to wear on a date. But once I was on my knees it was all over -- they would do anything I wanted. I actually talked the summer boyfriend -- his name was Billy -- into inviting me to his sister's wedding while slowly licking and kissing his shaft for like an hour while we were up in his room "studying." His mother was down in the kitchen banging pots and pans around to remind us that we were not home alone. He really didn't want to have to go with a date -- but he did once he got me to seal the deal with my mouth. I kind of liked the power I guess but it really didn't do that much for me.

My friends were not much help. We were pretty much all of us giving head to our boyfriends by this age, but no one ever wanted to talk about it. I mean girls who would go on for hours about their periods or their parent's marital and financial problems or worries about the size of their tits or the sizes of their brother's dicks would get all coy and bashful if you ever said anything about cocksucking. I had figured out that most were like me -- giving it but not all the way. The only way to get information was from your own boyfriend, because the guys were all sharing notes on what each girl would give or not give. When Billy told me that one of the girls in our group, Sam, was letting his friend James cum in her mouth- well we all kind of knew she was just a slut after that and she faded away from us girls.

But then things changed. Billy and I never broke up -- he just moved away with his family in the middle of my sophomore year. So that was that and for the rest of that year I was remained single. In July I found my Dad's porn stash down in his office in a box marked 'Taxes.' I had never suspected anything about sex there but was trying to find out how much he really earned which I knew you could off the government tax forms. Imagine my surprise when what I found under some old irrelevant tax forms was a collection of videos with names like 'Oral Amateurs', 'That's Not Going to Fit in There!' and 'A Throat Named Sally.' There were about 25 of them in all plus a collection of porn mags featuring girls that looked to be about my age doing everything I had never even imagined doing. 

Well you know how that sort of thing goes. I was disgusted after 10 minutes with the mags and threw them all back in the box and went out for a smoothie. I watched my Dad at dinner that night -- he seemed the same however. But I woke up the next day deciding to see a little more. That day I watched one of the blowjob videos and forced myself to watch as two girls who looked about my age swallowed load after load after load of cum from about 6 guys who had taken them on a harbor cruise. Most of the guys in the video looked normal sized -- sort of like older versions of my two boyfriends -- but one in particular was hung like the proverbial horse. The video ends with the 2 girls sucking different sections of his huge pipe because they feel bad about not being able to take him even half as deep as they did the other guys. Then they kneel in front of him while he cums on both their faces. The End. 

Within a month I'd found enough privacy to watch every one of the videos and study every picture from the magazines. I never really felt turned on by what I saw, but I could feel my brain buzzing trying to process the meaning of all that sperm spilled over all those tongues and faces and shot up into all those pussies. What did it all mean?

The other thing that happened involved Annie, and that's really where this story begins. About a week after we got out of school that year, the family headed into the deep north woods for 2 weeks of vacation. We had a really nice little camp on a lake up there that Annie and I had learned to swim in as little girls. Dad only had the first week for vacation time so he was going to leave early, but Mom and Annie and I were going to be there for the duration. After Dad left it took all of one afternoon for Annie to convince Mom that it would be OK if, unknown to Dad, she invited her boyfriend Tom up for a couple of days before the weekend. Tom is this sort of OK guy, nothing special but nice enough to Annie I guess. Anyhow on his second day up he and Annie were on the raft out on the lake sunbathing and splashing around from time to time when Mom asked if I would accompany her into the small town nearby to pick up some groceries. We waved to the adorable couple on the raft and drove off but before we went a half mile my period cramps started in and I asked Mom if it would be ok if I just walked back to the camp to lay down. She wanted to drive me but something told me my business was going to require some privacy. Well I didn't exactly hurry back -- probably was timing the thing in my secret brain while my other brain was looking at the flowers and such. The cramps were not really so bad. As I turned into the last stretch I could see that Annie and Tom were no longer on the raft, and I knew it was time to hurry up just a little.

When I got to the camp I circled around back through the woods that came right up almost to the window of the bedroom Annie and I shared. The window was one of those crank out windows that's tall and thin and goes almost all the way to the floor. It was wide open, probably because I'd opened it before Mom and I left for town. I realized I could stand behind a big old oak tree that was like 10 feet from the window and from inside I could hear Annie's voice.

"Why don't you just fuck me? You never just wanna fuck."

"Baby I'm going to fuck you. I just need you to suck me for a while before I do."

"Jesus -- what is it with you and blowjobs? I mean I'm giving you my pussy."

I peeked out from behind the tree. I could see Annie standing at the foot of my bed, which was closer to the window. She had on her bathing suit bottoms, but her top was off. Her tits looked really nice then. Just kind of big enough, at least from a girl's point of view. And they stood right up on her chest with nice hard little pink nipples that pointed up. I couldn't see Tom at all and was guessing he was lying on my bed already. Then I saw Annie's face and chest going downward as she sunk to her knees. I felt a rush in my pussy. When she did that she looked exactly like one of the girls on the boat video when she sank to her knees on the deck to suck off the guy with the huge cock. She looked a little pissed off but in a kind of determined "I'll show him" way. I had to creep forward to see more. 

When I did I could see Tom lying back on my bed, an arm draped over his eyes. And I could see the back of Annie's head as it went forward to lick his cock. Then she was bobbing a little. Then she stopped and took Tom's cock in her hand and started to jerk him off. I got a good view of his cock then to the side of her body and a second jolt hit my cunt. It was a really neat looking cock -- I mean a really nice size, bigger than my boyfriend's had had, smaller than the huge guy in the video, nice and thick and veiny in a very masculine way, standing hard up on its balls shiny wet from her mouth and bending backwards like a banana while Annie's little hand started stroking up and down fast. Whew!

I jumped a bit when Tom took the arm off his eyes and bent his head forward. But it sure didn't seem like he saw me. "Use your mouth slut, not your hand" was all he said before dropping back down to the pillow. Now it was Annie who jolted, and I mean her whole body stiffened and I could see her fair skin blotching red like she was getting mad. But she did it. Moved her mouth back over the cock and started to suck again. 

After about 10 seconds her mouth came off again and she looked up to say "You going to fuck me now? I sucked it for you."

"Fuck! Suck my cock bitch. I'm going to cum in your mouth before you get fucked."

Now Annie stood up and walked away from the window, saying "Fuck you, Tom. There's no time for both, my Mom is going to be back pretty soon."

Tom jumped up, his cock bobbing rigid against his belly as he took off after her. He got her in 2 strides, spun her around and pulled her backwards to the bed. He pushed her face down on my bed and stood behind her now stroking his own cock. Annie let out a little moan as she realized she was going to get what she wanted. He snatched the bikini bottoms down to her thighs to expose her cunt and then attacked her from behind. Her moan became a grunt as he entered her and she was saying "I'm not wet yet." A second later he had her thighs spread wide; I could see that banana boat cock finding the sweet spot into her sweet spot. One shove and he was half way in her. Now the grunt became a crying grunt-moan, half a woman needing to get fucked and half the pissed off Annie realizing she wasn't getting to control her guy. He reared back and plunged again and almost his entire shaft penetrated her slit. Then he was fucking her hard and fast, banging away at her pussy like a man possessed. I saw his ass cheeks clench and his heavy balls swinging between his own spread legs.

Now it was his turn to scream, "Fuck Annie." He was ready. But he pulled out of her and grabbed her by the waist to spin her on her back. She landed on the bed with a thump and I will never forget the look of fear, lust, anger and sluttiness that washed over her face as he climbed on the bed to straddle her chest, his hand was on his cock to stroke it to completion and then he had her pinned with his ass more or less sitting on her tits and his missile pointed at her face. One stroke, two strokes and three and he was off, shooting sperm hard and fast at her red face. I watched her shuddering expression as they hit her hair, her chin, the pillow and then her forehead and hair again. 

Now it was me cumming. And I realized for the first time that my fingers had gone inside my cut-offs and inside my panties and I was gushing cream of my own. It was only Annie who was not cumming. Tom and I finished together and I looked in again to see Annie trying to push his thighs off her tits so she could escape. Her face and hair were a mess and Tom's cum was starting to drip from her chin right down on those pretty tits and even to her belly. I ducked away from the window to the sound of her saying "Fuck you Tom, you're not getting this pussy ever again."

I ran back into the woods, the cut-offs unsnapped and unzipped and starting to fall down my ass. I could hear some yelling from the bedroom but could no longer tell what exactly was being said. Tom was clearly giving it right back as his deeper voice boomed over hers. I heard her shriek once and then a door slammed. Then it was quiet.

I zipped up and sat on a boulder. Even then my secret brain was figuring out a plan, but naturally I didn't know that yet. My breath was still coming hard as I sat. My middle finger suddenly snaked over my tongue and I could taste the tangy girl juice that had been produced by what I'd just seen. It was nice. Really. Then I started really thinking. First about how hot Tom had been. The size and shape of his cock. The amount of sperm he shot at Annie. The way he was fucking her so furious at not getting his blowjob first. The way he forced her to bend over on the bed. Then about Annie. How cute her body was, especially those tits which I personally would have killed for. But mostly about what a bitch she'd been and how she got exactly what was coming to her (ha-ha!) About how she got so pissed off over a simple blowjob, about how she complained the whole time he was doing her, and about how she really didn't deserve a man with a dominating cock like Tom had. She had been my self-appointed expert on giving head, saying I should do it but not let the guys cum in my mouth. Now that I'd seen her technique I had to say she was the wrong person to listen to.

I thought back to the 2 girls on the video. I mean they had been nervous as hell at the start -- what girl wouldn't be. But when the guys told them what to do, or more usually just moved them into the position they needed, you could see the girls fall right into place and start to relax. They knew what they were there for and how to have a good time doing it. They opened their mouths wide and kept them open. They swallowed so eagerly. They bent over on demand to get fucked. Hell they had even eaten cum out of each other's pussies once they got the guys all fucked out. And I'd have to say they looked ecstatic at the end when the huge cock facialized them together, and they kissed and licked up sperm as the movie faded to the end titles. That was something maybe Annie needed to see if she was going to wake up.

By now it had been more than an hour since my Mom had dropped me off. Suddenly I could hear a car coming down the long access road over the hill and knew she'd be pulling up in about 3 minutes. I checked my clothing and face as well as I could and trotted cautiously back to the camp. When I got there Tom was lying out on the raft by himself and I saw Annie in the hammock under the trees -- now bottomed and topped in the same bikini as before -- reading Glamour magazine. She looked up and asked where Mom was, but I kept motoring into the bedroom to make sure it was decent after the fucking and before Mom could see it and throw Tom right the hell out. To my surprise it looked normal after their session and their fight. The only difference I could see was my pillow case had been changed. When I walked back outside Mom was there and Tom was approaching her to help with the groceries. I did too while Annie ignored us all. 

"You feeling better honey?"

"Much better now Mom. I got a Midol from Annie."

I could see mom blush at the mention of Midol in front of Tom, like he never had heard of a girl's period before! Tom just looked confused but kept moving with the bags of groceries.

By dinner time the feuding couple seemed to be on the mend. Annie was going out of her way to serve Tom and Tom was going out of his way to make her laugh. All it did was make me sick. Still my secret brain knew there was going to be more to this story before long. That night Annie and Tom took a walk around the lake while Mom and I cleaned up and sang Beatles tunes to my IPod. The charmed couple came back an hour later holding hands. We played cards and swatted bugs and before long Annie said it was time for bed. Mom beamed with approval as Tom gave Annie one chaste kiss on the lips before she ducked in our bedroom. Then Mom went off to bed but Tom was all for staying up to chat and I was so revved up I was jumping through my skin waiting for Mom's bedroom door to close. 

Tom and I made small talk about the camp, the water temperature and the weather for the next day. Then I made an excuse to duck into my room for something, but really to see if Annie was out. She was. I could hear my Mom's soft snoring through the open windows and figured that both my girls were done for the night. Perfect. I wanted to chance the night-light in my room to change out of the grubby cut-offs and tee shirt, but thought better of it and went back to Tom as is. I was ready enough.

"So how's the big romance going?"

This was just me being a wise guy but also trying to find a road into the Annie questions. I mean these two had only been going out like 2 months and there was really no sign on either side of an undying love.

"Aaah... OK I guess. Why? Did Annie say something?"

"No, I was just wondering. You know like what makes 2 people happy. You two seemed so happy tonight."

"Uh, yeah, of course."

"I bet you stole some real kisses on your walk. I mean that kiss you gave her to show off for my Mom couldn't be what gets either of you excited."

I laughed and smiled to show Tom it was all in good fun, that a little teasing was certainly in order now that he was a member of the extended family and all. And he got it. Bright boy! He winked at me and laughed himself.

"Well not so much on that walk. Maybe a little" He smiled at me. "We were kind of making up from a fight earlier when you went to do the shopping."

"Oh? I'm sorry! What did you two kids have to fight about up here in this beautiful place?"

"You know just regular boyfriend girlfriend stuff."

"Well good if it's nothing serious then. I mean the way Annie was with you at dinner should be the way it is all the time. She was running around making sure everything was just the way you wanted it. Isn't that what a girlfriend should do?"

"Yeah of course." Again with the smile and twinkle in his eye. "You make sure that's how you are when you have a boyfriend, ok Queenie?"

"I will, you can count on it. And you know I did have a boyfriend even before you knew Annie. And I think I made him happy." By now I must have been grinning like a fool. But I turned to him on the couch and tucked my ankles together to sit squaw like and let him see my legs spread. It seemed like a nice thing to do even if I still had those damned cut-offs on.

"Oh yeah? How'd you make him happy?"

"Oooooh you're naughty! I know you mean S-E-X when you talk like that." I could see his eyes drifting towards my crotch area and I was aggravated that I had not been able to put on the short skirt I'd wanted.

"Well you brought it up."

"Did I? I guess that's because I figure I'm still a kid and that you and Annie must have all that stuff figured out. I mean I still say my boyfriend had no cause for complaint." I inserted a small blush here. I can do it on demand and it's fascinating for me to see the effect it has on people. "But you know you and Annie must be pretty hot together. You're so good looking." That was another exaggeration but one look at Tom told me it was working pretty well. "And Annie, oh-my-God! I was looking at her today when you guys were swimming and even if she is my sister I say she is wicked hot. I'm so jealous of her boobs -- they're perfect!"




Queenie



"Yeah she's got nice ones."

"Nice ones! Ha! Pretty soon you'll be calling them her tits." I gave him the big smile and the blush all at one time.

"Yeah, what's wrong with that my little Queen? Annie's got really nice tits, just like you said. And I say the rest of her body isn't half bad either."

Tom suddenly looked all serious and I was pulling the bottom of my tee down to tighten it over my own tits for him. I had on a thin little bra underneath but I was pretty sure the nipples could still show through if I gave them a little help. He shifted a bit on the other end of the couch and I wondered if I was making him hard. So I stretched out my own legs and laid my head back to my end to let my feet fall in his lap. Then his hand grabbed my foot and he started massaging the ball and arch. I spread my legs just a little to emphasize how high up he could see to the cut-offs. He smiled at me and continued the foot massage and then changed the subject.

"When did Annie give you a Midol? And how come you weren't in the car with your Mom when she got back?"

"Uhhhh.. Well, I kinda made that up for Mom."

"Are you really having your period now?"

This time I blushed for real. Tom's hands had travelled up to massage my calves and I could feel his long strong fingers digging in just right to relax the muscles there. It didn't hurt at all but I felt suddenly in his grip. And I liked it. Now he was toying with me instead of me toying with him. I liked that too.

"Well not exactly yet -- but its close."

Tom smiled. "It's nice to know if a girl you're with is having her time of month. It can change everything."

"Oooh. You are naughty! Why should my period matter to you when you have Annie" Shifting it back, you see, to focus on him, but it didn't work.

"Where were you when your Mom was shopping?"

"Umm... I was just around. Walking in the woods," His hands continued their massage. Was it my imagination or was he using them now to spread my legs wider ever so slightly? My breathing started to go short and hard. I was in his grip.

"You come near the cabin at all?"

"Ummm. ... A little. Not too far off."

One of his hands rose above my knee for the first time, just lightly running it now, stroking the lower part of my thigh. 

"Tell me what you did to keep that boyfriend of yours happy."

"I....I..I can't. It's embarrassing."

"Did you really think Annie was keeping me happy? Or were you just having fun?"

"Having fun I guess. I didn't mean to make you mad or anything."

"But you know what I did with her? You know how I fucked her in your bed?"

I was blushing like mad now. His hands were parting my thighs and the jean material was bunching up at the crotch so I felt like the lips of my pussy were being exposed to him. I nodded once.

"You watched me fuck her then." Nods. "You watched her before when she wouldn't blow me." Nods. "You saw me get up on her tits and blow my load all over her face." Nods. I felt like my head and pussy were in a race to see which would explode first. I closed my eyes. And then I felt his fingers going up under the baggy cut-offs. I felt them moving the crotch of my panties aside. I felt his finger in my cunt, and on my clit. "You saw my cock, and how it gets when it needs attention." His finger ran across the hood of my clit, exposing it. "You know how a girlfriend should be with that?" Nods twice fast and hard. He leaned in and ran the other hand up under my tee shirt and up under the bra. Now my pussy and my tit were at his command. "You ready to take care of me?" I nodded one final time and then my body stiffened and I came on his fingers, hard. My breathing was so ragged and shallow I thought I was going to pass out. His hand found my nipple and tugged and then twisted it as I came. I bit my hand to muffle the sounds I was making. He kept stroking and tweaking me at both ends till I felt like I would never stop cumming. Then it was over. 

My eyes opened and I found him smiling down on me. I slid off the couch, saying "Come with me." I walked us hand in hand back around the cabin, shushing him as we passed by the open windows where Annie and Mom must still be sleeping. We walked silently up the little hill where I'd escaped before, before I was in his grip. I found the boulder where I'd sat earlier to taste myself. I turned. He saw it and sat. Now I was kneeling in front of him. I could look up and just make out his features in the soft moonlight. I wanted him to say it before I did it. Somehow he knew.

"Suck my cock bitch."

But before I could start he stood me up with those strong hands. He unzipped me and tugged down the cut-offs and panties in one motion. I kicked them away. Then he pulled the tee shirt over my head. He tugged at the bra hook but didn't want to take the time and ended up ripping it off me. He threw the bra beside us on the ground. I was nude. Then his strong hands moved my shoulders back towards the ground and my kneeling position.

Now I unzipped him. Pictures of the one dark haired girl on the boat in the video went through my head. How she did it so gracefully, slowly, how her attention never failed. Did I look like that to him then? Respectful? Horny? Excited? Submissive? Loving? I hoped so. I pulled his jeans off. Then I went to the band of the boxers. My breathing was back under control, and both of my brains worked together knowing just what to do now. Just like the girl in the boat. No mistakes. No hurrying. He squatted up for a second as I pulled down the boxers and his fat banana cock sprang up and slapped me in the chin. I giggled and he gave me a little chuck under the chin to make sure I was settled in. I was and the boxers joined my bra on the ground beside us.

I had to bend way in to lick the underside since the banana bent back towards his abdomen. His fingers found both nipples as I got in my first real lick. He was easy on me that time, training a young girl on how her tits could be used while she was giving head. I went higher on my knees to reach the crown of his staff. The Beatles "With A Little Help From My Friends" was the rhythm in my head as I bathed his cock head with my saliva and roughly swirled my tongue around its rim. I swear I might have just lapped and kissed and nibbled that ridge for an hour if he hadn't chucked at my head again saying "Now slut, do it like a real cocksucker." I went up. My mouth went down over the spongy hard soft material and the mushroom sized head filled my mouth. "Would you believe in a love at first sight?" I was swirling it with my tongue and then opened wide and slid down hard and fast as far as I could on the poll. Well yes to answer the question -- I do believe in it. I locked my lips on the hard stalk growing inside my mouth and dragged them wetly back to the head. Then down. Then up. Keeping, as they say, a tight seal. His fingers got a little rougher -- but not too bad -- with my tits, and he bucked into my mouth to get me down another inch on it. I was drooling hard keeping him nice and wet and slippery for my lips and tongue feeling like there was no end of liquid in me, feeling like the small trickle I felt in my cunt was well used since there was more than enough for me to service his cock up above. "What do you see when you turn out the lights?" I pictured the dark haired girl trying like crazy to get every bit of that much huger cock before her blonde girlfriend had to come over to help get the job done. And I took it deeper. Now he was bucking in and out fast, controlling my mouth with the slams of his cock. My throat was getting speared, but things were so wet and slippery there it felt normal, natural and every bit good. I rode the staff up to the top. 

Suddenly it was Jack and the Beanstalk, or maybe Tom and the Mushroom Stalk, rather than the Beatles who were helping me on my ride. The giant above us reached down and twisted my nipples hard, make my cunt quake. I sucked and lapped at the head. Then rode him down again fast -- escaping the wrath of the giant who might crush me at any moment. He gasped. Shuddered. And exploded. The cum was splashing directly in my throat and I pulled back -- still a tight seal I'm proud to say! -- to collect it in my mouth. I'd seen the dark haired girl know just how deep to keep the cock to let it drain daintily in her mouth, and I'd seen the blonde girl know just how to pull off it altogether to let her lover explode all over her face. But Tom had already cum once on a pretty girls face that day. It was time for a mouth cum and a swallow. And that I gave him. At least as best I could. He was cumming like I had on the couch, like a cum that just won't stop. My mouth filled and I swallowed, at least what I could although the evidence on my tits later was that more had escaped than I had thought possible. Then it filled and I swallowed again. His hands had gone slack near my tits, my nipples no longer in danger now that they'd served their role. Then he gave me two smaller spurts that made my lips expand and my mouth was half full. And I swallowed that too. And he was done and slid the slimy cock right out between my grasping, greedy lips.

Neither of us could move or speak. My fingers found some of that cum on my tits and I rescued it into my mouth and belly. I turned and say my ass down between his legs. His hand rested on my head. After about 5 minutes I reached over and found the bra. It was destroyed and I flung it into the brush. The panties and jeans and tee I put back on. Then I found his things and helped run the boxers up his legs, giving his still semi-hard cock one final kiss before it disappeared. I found his shirt and helped put it on but kissed each of his nipples gently before I buttoned it up for him. He took my hand and led me back towards the cabin.

"You're a good cocksucker. Maybe someday you'll be the queen of all cocksuckers. I'm going to use that mouth again."

"Thank you" and I giggled.

"For which?"

"For both. The compliment and the invitation."

"You're welcome. I may fuck you too Queenie -- you ready for that?"

"I am but....you know....I think me blowing you is always going to be our special thing."

"And me finger fucking you?"

"Oh-my-God yes if it's like the one tonight."

He kissed me gently and cupped my tits at the door to the cabin. Nothing stirred within. I cupped his balls and the still semi hard cock through his jeans and whispered "Thank you Tom." We went in. I looked at him but there was nothing left that either of us needed to say. I blew him a kiss and went through the door into the bedroom. Annie was still there asleep, being Annie as I had just been me. Suddenly I was completely exhausted. I fell into bed still wearing the cut-offs Tom's fingers opened. The thought of it made me want to strip them off and play with my little clit. But before I could reach them, I too was asleep.

That's the night I realized that I would be sucking a lot more cock, both Tom's cock and other cocks. After that there was never a question. I was a serious, committed, fantastic and happy cocksucker. Maybe, as Tom had said, the queen of all cocksuckers. I was in the grip of it now. And yes, I'm sure that it happens all the time.



Queenie and Miranda Pt. 01-06



Part One

Miranda Holmes locked the door of her small grey Ford car, straightened her grey skirt and checked her grey jacket in the reflection in the glass of the car door before she turned and walked up the short cracked and broken concrete pathway to the fading peeling blue painted door of Number Three, Alderman Lucas Drive, a boring ordinary Council house in the post war Austerity style just off the Hinksey Road on the East Canning estate. 

Miranda knocked loudly, then she stood back away from the door and waited, but nothing seemed to happen. She listened intently for sounds of movement but heard nothing, the silence complete, except, as she strained above the background hum of the city she heard the muted mumble of daytime TV, "Mrs Jarvis, I know you're in there, we have an appointment," Miranda shouted once more.

Queenie Jarvis puffed slowly at her cigarette as she stood immobile in the corner of the front room of her modest home, number Three, Queenie had intended to slip out to avoid Miss Rice, the social worker, but she woke up late and still had not bothered to get dressed, and her bathrobe lay out of reach on the brown leather easy chair and just her thin trademark sheer black negligee, a thong and a tight black laced corset kept out the cold. She shivered as she pulled her thin negligee tighter around her, so her ample breasts were even more clearly out lined. She regretted not having the curtains tightly closed as she tried to get comfortable, to ease the tightly laced corset where it chafed on the implant scar under her left breast, she eased her thong where it was wedged in her arse crack, and wished she was not wearing her three inch heeled stilettos as her feet hurt.

The TV remote control lay with her crisp freshly laundered black DD brassiere on the coffee table out of reach, along with her cigarette papers and lighter.

She knew she had about ten minutes to keep hidden before the social worker got bored and went away so she inhaled the rich blend of home grown herbs and tried to relax.

"Mrs Jarvis!" the voice shrilled, "I watched you go in!"

Queenie eased slowly into a position where she could look through the gap in the curtains and saw a slight figure dressed in grey, her heart sank, she had expected Sandra Rice, three knocks, card through the letter box and off down the pub was her way of working, but this was someone new.

Queenie coughed, and before she realised she was looking into the mean bespectacled eyes of her adversary.

"I knew it!" she said "I am Miranda Holmes of Social Services, we have an appointment so let me in!"

Queenie shuffled across the filthy brown fitted carpet, picking her way through videos, toys, pizza boxes, discarded paper plates, part empty coffee cups and various magazines as she passed between the brown leather couch, and the coffee table and past the wide screen TV towards the hallway and front door. She kicked off her shoes and put on her grubby pink fluffy slippers, grabbed her thick blue bathrobe which slid easily over her sheer black negligee and with her rich peroxide blonde hair in curlers she looked the personification of the English housewife, only her bra less, surgically enhanced, DD breasts and freshly re-touched garish red lipstick really jarred.

"Sorry love," Queenie said brightly, "I didn't hear you."

"May I come in," Miranda replied.

"Yes, mind the mess!" Oueenie cautioned as Miranda stepped cautiously through the doorway.

"Your Children Mrs Jarvis," Miranda asked accusingly, "Do you know where they are."

Queenie thought hard, she remembered they were watching TV then nothing, suddenly the answer became clear, "At School?"

Miranda, was surprised, "Really, then you don't mind if I look around."

"Be my guest love" Queenie suggested.

Miranda retraced her steps to the hallway, she peered into the kitchen diner where a mountain of dishes awaited attention in the sink, while the kitchen units and table appeared to groan under the weight of take away boxes and empty cans.

She started to climb the stairs, cautiously, carefully trying to avoid tell tale creaks from the treads.

"Take your shoes off if you're going upstairs." Queenie ordered, "And leave me Rabbit alone."

Miranda set her worn shoes neatly on the lowest stair, she felt strangely naked as she climbed the stairs in her stockinged feet, wary of needles, she ascended slowly.

The first bedroom was peculiar, small, dark, dirty, the single low energy bulb glowed feebly spilling its brown light across the filthy floor, the heavy worn curtains hid shutters which kept out the daylight, and as Miranda's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw the two bunk beds, with bedding on both tiers, one either side of the room. Posters adorned the walls competing for space with clothes hooks and cheap worn storage units and shelves loaded with children's clothes and toys both girls and boys. It was as if both sexes shared the room.

Puzzled, Miranda tried another door, it opened to reveal a room full of junk, some of it discarded boxes once containing new items, much of just junk as far as Miranda could see but junk surrounded the worn single bed, a small TV Video unit, sat beyond the bed and the decor was tobacco stained, discarded clothing some soiled, some apparently fresh was liberally strewn around. The bed itself was in disarray, the duvet cast aside, the stained under sheet crumpled, Miranda realised Queenie had almost certainly been sleeping here until quite recently.

The next door opened into the bathroom, it was filthy as Miranda expected, green tiles, bulging and loose, covered the wall above a green bath with a cracked front panel, and a filthy green shower curtain hung from a rail by the distorted and leaking shower fitting. A pile of discarded underwear filled the far corner behind the porcelain lavatory pan, and Miranda quickly shut the door to keep the smell of dampness and worse inside.

Miranda was hardly surprised, she had seen worse, at least there was no evidence of dogs, or drugs, but on opening the third bedroom door Miranda was unprepared for the shock.

Red lights, the light switch at the door switched on red lights which cast a dull red glow across the king size bed, the crisp white sheets effectively turned pink by its luminescence while the scarlet duvet cover and quilted headboard added to the image of debauchery and sin.

Scarlet carpets, scarlet curtains turning the daylight pink, everything red, the red walls, adorned, draped she soon noticed with various womens undergarments, each crisp and freshly washed and laundered, bras, panties, corsets, and as her eyes took in the scene she noticed on the far wall a collection of whips handcuffs and chains. Leather straps, harnesses, collars, small and large, and strange constricting devices, even gags filled a further wall, each on its own hook of bracket.

A shelf below the mirror held a wide range of cosmetics and below that Miranda could see various ladies toys lined up, Dildos, Plugs, Vibrators, all neatly aligned and arranged in order of size in complete contrast to the disorder the rest of the house displayed. 

"Leave me Rabbit alone." Queenie suddenly shouted, "And don't use the bog."

Miranda suddenly noticed the lavatory, a glazed Porcelain standard WC but strangely erotic as the red light turned it pink, yet it was set within the bedroom, no screening of any sort, with a wash hand basin alongside.

"Rabbit" Miranda queried.

"Rampant Rabbit" Queenie bellowed, "I don't want it dripping with your cunt juice." 

"Mrs Jarvis!" Miranda protested, "May I assure you." she had not noticed that Queenie had come upstairs.

"Nice innit." Queenie suggested, "It's where I work see, brings me gentlemen, have I shocked you miss prim and proper."

"No" Miranda sighed, "It's what I was led to expect." but she was still surprised at the contrast.

"Fucking hard work fucking men." Queenie expounded, as she stood in the doorway.

"But it must have its compensations, I expect you find it all very satisfying," Miranda replied breezily as she turned and went to return to the hallway.

"No, it ain't satisfying, that's why I needs me Rabbit." Queenie replied

"So who sleeps here?" Miranda asked stupidly.

"No one this is me work room, I sleeps next door and the kids have the other."

"What boys and girls together." Miranda suggested.

"There's no harm," said Queenie, "I gives em rubbers."

Miranda felt physically sick.

"Only Joking," joked Queenie, "They know the score."

"It says here you have seven children?" Miranda asked.

"Thereabouts," agreed Queenie.

"Well do you?"

"Probably."

"And two of them are called Tony!"

"Yes, different surnames see, to confuse you lot, works a treat don't it.!"

"Mrs Jarvis, please, I have to tell you that my recommendation is that they be taken into care." Miranda explained

"What about me money, me child allowance all that?" Queenie queried.

"Cancelled," Miranda said with a smirk of Triumph.

"Then they stops here with me." Queenie insisted.

"It's quite obvious that the accommodation is hopelessly inadequate, and. indeed that you are an unfit mother, a prostitute and a" The fingers of Queenies left hand curled around Miranda's face with a resonating slap as the force of the unexpected blow silenced Miranda instantly.

The shock threw Miranda off balance and as Queenie lunged forward Miranda found herself falling face down onto Queenie's bed, the breath knocked from her body. "uggh" she moaned, then before she could to recover Queenie had grabbed her right arm, and puhed it agonisingly high up her back pinning her down.

"Let me go!" Miranda squealed.

"How much?" Queenie demanded. "How much money do you want?"

"It's not money its the kids well being." Miranda squealed.

"I works hard for them kids." Queenie explained.

"Flat on your back, hard work, I don't think so." Miranda squeaked.

Queenie released her grip slightly "You bloody think it's like screwing your boyfriend twenty four seven don't you you stupid little bitch."

"Well isn't it?" Miranda suggested.

"No.it's fucking hard work, you imagine, some bloke you never met comes and you have to do what he wants, you know, bangs on the door, some coffin dodger with a stick." Queenie explained, "Or else some guy who has saved up and is so over excited he cums before he hardly gets it in."

"Oh, I never thought." said Miranda,

"Fucking judging when you don't know the half," Queenie complained, "I had tits like yours at school, B cup, but what's the good of them in my game, so I had to have all this fucking sillicon shoved up em, its no bloody fun, they don't unhook, I'm fucking stuck with them twenty four seven."

"Mrs Jarvis!" Miranda squealed, "Let me go."

Miranda struggled and tried to get free, but Queenie held her firm.

"No you bloody bitch you stay down." Queenie demanded.

Miranda heard rather than felt the zipper on her skirt pulled down, "Hey," she wailed, "now stop that."

"No, let's see what a straight laced pencil pusher looks like."

Miranda regretted wearing the thong, and the hold up stockings, but she liked to remain cool in the sultry summer weather, and.

"No, you can't do that" Miranda protested as Queenie edged the grey skirt down her dark stockinged legs , pushing it clear of the bed to fall in a heap on the floor,"Stop." she cried but instead she felt Queenie's hands on the buttons of her jacket then the gentle tugging as Queenie pulled it backwards down her back and off her arms as she pinned them behind her back.

"Stop that right now," Miranda squealed but Queenie was well into her stride, reaching out to grab a set of Handcuffs, keyless playcuffs but with a rachet, and Miranda felt real fear as she felt the cold metal clamping down onto her pale skin, firm immovable, grating against her wrist as she tried to pull her hand clear, and suddenly as Queenie attached the second cuff Miranda realised she was completely unable to free herself.

"Mrs Jarvis please." Miranda struggled to sit up but now Queenie was busy with the buttons on Miranda's tight white blouse. 

"Nasty cheap rubbish," Queenie muttered, as she fumbled with the tiny buttons and button holes then suddenly she lost patience and she simply grabbed the back of Miranda's blouse and tugged, the stitching along the bottom edge started to stretch then suddenly it was tearing, ripping faster and faster exposing more and more of Miranda's pale back and shoulders until finally the tear reached her her collar and the garment fell in half.

"No" squealed Miranda but Queenie pulled again and this time the sleeves tore away and she was able to throw the ruined shirt away into the far corner of the room, leaving just the sleeves draped over her lower arms, "You're in real trouble now, that was expensive." she complained.

"It was tat you little liar," Queenie chortled "Supermarket Tat, nice bra though," she mumbled, as she flipped the catch, the tension released it fell forward revealing Miranda's small delicate breasts, "My god it's padded, my your chest's as flat as a bloke." Queenie exclaimed unfairly.

"That's enough!" Miranda squealed but as she squirmed around on the bed helplessly Queenie grabbed a second pair of handcuffs from a bracket on the wall, a set with a long chain between cuffs and fastened one end around Miranda's slender ankle and the other around the polished mahogany leg of the bed. Queenie stood back from the bed and watched Miranda as she struggled to sit up. Queenie decided that she liked what she saw, "You don't look so bloody official now, " she observed.

"You're over-dressed you don't need those here." Queenie observed as she grabbed the waistband of Miranda's thong and pulled it firmly down, past the broad elasticated band atb the top of Miranda's pull ups and on down her shapely slender thighs to nestle around her ankles.

Miranda struggled flailing her free leg but Queenie was too strong and Miranda was left wearing just her pull up stockings, with her panties around her left leg and her Bra hanging loose from her shoulders.

"You look a mess," Queenie suggested, "Better get that Bra off," she announced as she fished a pair of scissors from a drawer.

"The, the straps unhook" Miranda said quietly, "Please don't spoil it."

Queenie felt around the straps and released the clips so she could pull the bra clear.

Miranda started to panic as she saw Queenie was still brandishing the scissors, she cut away the remaining sleeves from Miranda's blouse and then Queenie suggested, "Better stay really still," Miranda's eyes widened and she held her breath as she watched Queenie advance the blades towards the light brown curls of Miranda's crotch.

"Oh god no" Miranda pleaded but though Queenie was cutting, snipping, stripping away the downy fur from her pubis. Miranda was at least relieved that she was not cutting her prized chestnut hair, she shuddered at the thought of being left bald, forced to wear a wig, she gritted her teeth and prayed Queenie would be careful. 

"Keep still or I might cut your clit off." Queenie advised as she worked steadily away, snipping with an expert quick clicking motion sending a cascade of fine hairs onto the the bed, Queenie wiped her finger along the long slit to remove stray hairs, she flicked the hairs on the floor and then raised her finger to her lips.

"You taste of piss you filthy cow." Queenie announced, then mocking Miranda's middle class accent she continued "You need to improve you personal hygiene if you're going to look after my men dear."

"No, look this has gone far enough." Miranda announced as she tried desperately to regain control of her situation but Queenie had other ideas.

Miranda heard the buzzing and thought at first Queenie had a vibrator, but then she realised it was a cordless shaver, "No time to get you waxed, so this will have to do," she told Miranda as she gently moved the floating heads over the the gentle folds and the stubble of Miranda's remaining pubic hair, leaving a smooth swathe in it's wake.

"Please no." Miranda pleaded as Queenie dextrously moved the buzzing cutters around Miranda's now hairless mound.

"There, that's better," Queenie suggested as she wiped Miranda sex with a wet wipe, continuing through her legs to freshen around her anus before gently inserting a finger tip within the enveloping folds of her Labia.

"No," Miranda pleaded once more but Queenie withdrew the finger and raised it to her mouth to taste it once more, 

"Much more acceptable." Oueenie announced in the mocking middle class accent as she smiled as she delivered her verdict.

"All right, you've had your fun, now let me go!" Miranda demanded, pushing Queenie away with her shoulder, as she tried again to free herself but Queenie had other ideas, she stood up and walked to the far wall, carefully selected a black leather dog collar from its hook and a long leash from a drawer and as Queenie returned to the bed Miranda was helpless to prevent her fastening the collar around her neck.

Miranda was aghast at this further humiliation but she could do nothing to prevent it as Queenie pulled the leash to drag Miranda off balance once more sending her sprawling across the bed before she looped the loose end in a crude knot around the far leg of the bed.

Queenie took a second leash, from the drawer, tied it around the bed frame before she took down another set of handcuffs and after a brief struggle she secured Miranda's loose leg and despite her frantic writhing she pinned Miranda's legs firmly before releasing the handcuffs one by one so she could peel Miranda's thong off.

Miranda realised to her horror that as Queenie again tightened the cuffs around her ankles that she was spread untidily across the bed, her legs spread, her sex displayed and totally vulnerable.

Queenie stood back breathing heavily, the sweat running from her forehead, she wiped it away with her hand before wiping her hand on her sheer black negligee.

"You needs a corset," Queenie announced, she spotted something suitable on a hook on the bedroom wall and pulled it down, It looked like a regular corset, it even had adjustable laces but the zipper made it supremely practical and Queenie realised the gaudy red and black cheap leather effect corset would be eminently suitable for Miranda's new role.

It took but a few seconds for Queenie to put the corset in position, she simply pushed and slid it under Miranda's side before pulling it closed around her, before pulling up the zipper. to hold Miranda's tummy flat which had the effect of pushing up her vestigial breasts.

"My tits were just like that," Queenie announced, "Except my nips didn't stand up that much, are you a dyke dear?"

"No, I'm cold." Miranda protested, but the beads of sweat glistening between her breasts proved the contrary.

"Nearly done dear, lets make you look pretty" Queenie suggested as she selected garish pink eye shadow, bright scarlet lipstick,and deodorant from her toiletries on the shelf below the mirror. She put them on the bed and first started to colour Miranda's lips, Miranda jerked away but Queenie grabbed her shoulder length chestnut hair and used it as a handle to keep her head firm.

The thin line of dull red lips rapidly gave way to an uneven garish scarlet slash, sexy yet cheap, as Queenie liberally applied the lipstick then she was busy with the eye shadow, colouring Miranda's eyelids as Miranda cowered in fear of being blinded, blusher crudely applied gave the glow of health to Miranda's pallid cheeks, then more scarlet lipstick, but this time she applied it to the lips of Miranda's sex. 

Finally Queenie stood back to admire her handiwork, but realised there was more to do, the chestnut hair cascading, spoiled the illusion, Queenie thought about cutting it but then decided to separate it into child like pig tails, she had ribbons in a drawer and with pins and ribbons she soon had Miranda's hair tied awkwardly like that of a rebellious teenager.




Queenie and Miranda Pt. 01-06



The effect of separating Miranda's chestnut locks into two ribboned pig tails was dramatic suddenly she was a caricature of innocence, a cheap tart personified, her own dark stockings and Queenie's corset her only clothing but clothing intended to accentuate not hide her sexuality.

It was the work,of a moment for Queenie to take out Miranda's diamond ear studs and replace them with a pair of huge, gaudy, ugly, cheap ear rings which she had found on a market stall, and suddenly Queenie realised she had done what she jokingly set out to do, she had transformed the social worker into a tart, a cheap tart, but not a prostitute.

The realisation dawned, Queenie had joked that Miranda could do her three o'clock client, now she realised it would be easier for Miranda to do the three o'clock, in fact there was no way she could get Miranda out of the bedroom in time, and the gentleman was only a weedy office worker with a premature ejaculation problem, all she had to do to was sell it as bondage and shut Miranda up somehow.

"All right, please enough is enough." Miranda again suggested but Queenie saw the ideal item hanging on the wall in front of her, a red and black ball gag with an elasticated strap.Queenie took it from its hook and held it close to Miranda's mouth.

"No" Miranda protested through gritted teeth, as she realised Queenie's intentions, but Queenie just held her nose until she needed to breath and then as her mouth opened Queenie forcibly and brutally pushed the gag deep into Miranda's mouth and tightened the straps to pull it firmly into place.

"Comfy?" asked Queenie, Miranda shook her head.

"Good you can do me three o'clock," Queenie said brightly as she took a tube of lubricant and squirted it all along Miranda's lipstick smeared slit before working some gently into the softness of her sex.

Suddenly they heard a knock at the door. Queenie rushed to the wardrobe and grabbed a simple skirt and top which she threw on at lightening speed before slipping a simple housecoat over th top.

"Back in a mo" she said and slipped from the room to descend the stairs.

Two

Steve Davies watched the office clock, occasionally glancing at his watch and the clock on his computer monitor as the time crawled towards Two thirty when he had to depart for his three o'clock appointment.

He fiddled with an email to colleagues, pushed papers from in-tray to pending, and back again and generally performed his duties as a senior council manager with the practised ease of a man with no conscience, he worried as always, he had an image to maintain, he could hardly have an office affair, without word of his little problem getting around, and the humiliation of leaving the lady disappointed after a one night stand was getting him down.

Steve knew the police were monitoring the CCTV his colleagues had installed in the red light areas, indeed he had spent many happy hours viewing selected highlights with colleagues and Police colleagues so picking up a whore was not really an option, hence his Three o'clock appointment with Mrs Jarvis at number three, Alderman Lucas Drive, just off the Hinksey Road on the East Canning estate. 

Two thirty came around, Steve walked down to the staff car park, unlocked the door of his silver grey Ford using the remote control, hung his jacket on the hook beside the door pillar and drove carefully through the twenty mile per hour zone, trying not to attract attention until the Sat Nav led him unerringly the wrong way down the one way system to number three, he parked behind a small grey Ford.

Steve checked his tie in the reflection in the glass of the car door before he turned and walked up the short cracked and broken concrete pathway to the fading peeling blue painted door of Number Three, he knocked loudly, then stood back away from the door and waited, but nothing seemed to happen, he listened intently for sounds of movement but heard nothing, then his heart leaped as Queenie Jarvis answered. "Just a minute."

He heard footfalls as Queenie descended the stairs, he heard the rattle of the lock and chain as she prepared to open the front door and then he heard her again.

"Sorry Love." Queenie apologised, as she opened the door wearing a housecoat over a sensible skirt and blouse as agreed, "You're early." 

Steve stared at Queenie's ample chest and felt his erection gradually subsiding, Oueenie looked just like one of his mother's WI chums, he thought.

"I got a touch of thrush, but my girlfriend's upstairs waiting," she continued, "Bondaged, she's a bit shy."

"Yes, alright, that's fine" Steve agreed readily, relieved that he would not have to try to perform for Queenie , "Is it the same money?"

"Extra fifty quid if you don't mind." Queenie simpered, "But she's really lovely, you'll like her, our Sadie told me what you like."

Steve smiled nervously, he never used the same lady twice, but even so when he asked Sadie for suggestions he never suspected she would share their experiences with a third party, "Oh" he exclaimed quietly.

"Highly recommended," Queenie reassured him, "do you have the money?"

Steve handed the notes over, "Leave the fifty on the bedside table upstairs for Randa will you" Queenie requested, as she returned the last fifty.

"Randa? is she foreign," Steve asked, nervously.

"Miranda, short for Miranda, but you're here for love not conversation" Queenie recovered quickly and suggested, "Don't stand on the doorstep, slip your shoes off and come upstairs."

Miranda lay on the bed struggling trying to free her wrists, or to spit out the ball gag which was hurting her mouth, or to free her legs or the leash or collar around her neck, Queenie had no sooner threatened to make Miranda "do" her Three o'clock, than they heard a knock at the door and Queenie had thrown on her skirt and top and housecoat and rushed downstairs.

The sound of approaching voices then footsteps coming up the stairs spurred Miranda to even greater efforts to get free, ugly red marks appeared at her wrists where the hard metal pressed against her soft flesh as she realised it could be her last chance to struggle free but suddenly she froze with shock as the door opened revealing a man, ruggedly handsome yet shy and nervous, smartly dressed, dark haired, broad shouldered, blue eyed she knew him, not by name but she recognised the face, the tie and suit, he worked in building control, in the offices on the third floor, two floors below her own office. She froze, uncertain of what to do.

"Mmmm ugghh Mmmm" Miranda tried to shout, to plead to beg but Steve had no chance to understand.

"Lovely little actress ain't she." Queenie suggested, "What do you think."

Steve stared at Miranda as she lay across the bed, he wanted soft compliant subservience not the restrained helplessness Miranda exhibited as she lay bathed in the glow of the red lighting, a crude painted whore, tied, gagged and bound yet for all that her sex glistened with anticipation, her perfect yet small breasts were real enough yet her constrained tummy held flat by the corset and the child like hairstyle were clearly intended to deceive as she was clearly older than a child, in her twenties at least but the prospect of sex without conversation was something Steve found tremendously exciting, perhaps too exciting he worried as his penis reared and strained.

"She's just raw sex" Steve replied to Quenies earlier query.

"Best get your kit off then," Queenie suggested "I got a hanger for your jacket and trousers." Steve started to undo his trouser belt before unzipping his flies, he stepped out of his trousers before handing his jacket and trousers to Queenie to hang up.

Miranda quickly realised the predicament she was in, clearly this man was committing a serious breach of trust, a offence punishable by instant dismissal by visiting a woman in works time and was clearly not going to want to get into more trouble.

"Mmmm Mmm" Miranda moaned "Help me." but Steve was down to his underpants, his shirt and tie on the hanger Queenie had handed him, and his manhood was straining,Steve carefully eased his underpants down his hairy legs showing Miranda the full extent of his straining manhood, Queenie looked on admiringly, almost straight with only the very tip emerging from the smooth foreskin but nice and long, six inches seven perhaps, it was difficult to tell without a ruler, but nicely streamlined, easy to insert, Queenie regretted not "doing" Steve herself briefly but remembered Sadie's warning of premature release.

Steve advanced towards Miranda dressed only in his socks and vest Miranda stared at Steve's penis, perversely hoping he would want her to suck it so he would remove her gag and allow her to scream, but no he crawled up the bed and rolled the condom Queenie had handed him over his straining penis and before she could really resist his fingers were at Miranda's sex.

Steve llaced his knees between Miranda's and eased her thighs apart and she saw and felt the tip of the condom against her crotch but it was starting to slide backwards towards her tight puckered Anus.

"Wrong hole love, she hasn't had an enema today so best not," Queenie suggested "and it's a hundred extra, here let me." she took more lube and as she sat on the bed she first worked more lube into Miranda's sopping hole, before grasping Steve's penis firmly to guide it between Miranda's the soft yielding flesh of Mirands's lower lips, it slid in easily for an inch or two pink on pink, Queenie looked on approvingly, she could not really see the join, it was like they had become one, not erotic like when a black cock pistons in and out but soft and loving. 

"Nnnnnn," Miranda protested but Steve was already easing further inside her, spreading her as he thrusted. reminding her of what she had missed in recent weeks. reopening the tunnel where only dainty fingers usually played, reminding her of her femininity, making her juices churn and her heart flutter as first gently then more firmly then forcibly he thrust against her holding her shoulders to get a better purchase until finally he was fully sheathed inside her, his thick curly pubic hair raking her freshly shaven mound and tickling the area around her now exposed clit, his manly chest now so close her pert little breasts that she felt the hairs on his chest seemingly brushing her erect straining nipples. and his mouth so close to her shoulder she feared his hot breath would burn her skin.

Steve raised himself up, his chest away from her breasts until he stared down into Miranda's eyes looking but not seeing her distress or was it excitement, he wanted to kiss her scarlet lips bur the gag was there impeding him. 

Miranda felt Steve's hot peppermint scented breath on her face, it seemed bizarre to be penetrated without being kissed, her sex still felt strained, but by now her arousal was easing the discomfort although she was still aware that with her arms tied behind her, she was helpless Steve continued to pin her to the bed and thrust into her making her totally his.

Miranda realised she could do nothing more to resist, she steeled herself for the onslaught and comforted herself with the sure knowledge that at least she would get some satisfaction, as he thrusted, once, twice, three times. four thrusts, her clitty started throbbing with excitement and then to her amazement and disbelief she felt his pre orgasmic twitching.

Steve also felt the onset of premature ejaculation, but it was too late, no counting of sheep or concentration on the Building Regulations chapter three subsection A could halt the rush of sperm from the boiling cauldron of his testes to shoot down the length of his shaft to flood her womb, to fill the condom.

"Nnnnnnngg" Miranda screamed silently, how could he be so selfish, she wondered, she needed something, some satisfaction, her interest was aroused her clit needed attention yet instead she felt the condom swelling then his penis contracting, and sliding from her.

"She's good isn't she." Queenie asked.

Steve nodded, trying to hide his disappointment with himself and his performance.

"Great," he said brightly.

"Nnnngggg" No what about me? Miranda tried to scream but Steve was intent other things and Queenie enjoyed seeing Miranda's discomfort and humiliation.

"I'll give you Lilla's card, if you don't want to come back here again." Queenie offered as she watched Steve throw the condom down the lavatory, wipe himself on some tissue paper, operate the flush and then take his clothes from Queenie before starting to dress again.

"Goodbye Randa, Thank you." Steve said inadequately.

"Nnnngggg" Miranda tried to reply, but as Steve went to remove Miranda's ball gag Queenie stopped him.

"She's shy" Queenie explained. "She want's her money, tuck it in her corset."

Steve's fingers trembled as he eased the crisp fifty between the tough leather of the Corset and the pink softness of Miranda's skin, she wondered, no hoped, that he would caress her clit or nipples or at least do something to relieve her, but he merely said "Thanks" and turned away, collecting his Jacket from Queenie and after kissing Queenie's cheek as he went to descend the stairs.

He looked at his watch, it had taken nine minutes, from door knock to return to the car, but he felt satisfied, elated even and even considered whether he should seek the same whore again. The thought pleased him, at least he stayed hard long enough to enter her and she was lovely, and her cunt was lovely and soft yet tight and he hoped she had enjoyed it as much as he had.

Steve walked to his car and that is when he noticed the Council parking permit in Miranda's car window and a cold sense of fear came over him, "Miranda Holmes Social Services" it said, "On Call" how could they have known, he wondered, but more importantly, or was it coincidence, or was the owner, taking pictures or video at this very minute he wondered?" 

Suddenly Steve needed to be in his comfort zone behind his desk.

Steve was indeed on video, Queenie's boyfriend had installed a state of the art digital Video recording facility with multiple cameras in the red bedroom and it showed everything, from the moment Miranda was naked on the bed right until Steve left the building.

With Steve gone Queenie returned to Miranda.

Miranda was crying, Quenie understood and took a slim six inch dilo from her shelf and gently slid it inside Miranda, she gave ten firm thrusts and then set it down. "NNnngggggg," Miranda cried,

"Will you be a good little whore if I bring you off." Quenie asked.

Miranda's eyes darted around the room but finally she nodded.

Queenie stood up and selected a long leather belt from the wall, she slid it under Miranda and under her left arm but over her right, then she took a second belt an passed it over the left arm and under the right arm so Miranda found her arms trapped to her sides but then Queenie removed the Handcuffs from Miranda's wrists and pulled her arms to her sides.

"You said you would be good." Queenie reminded her as she took a large roll of tape and started to tape Miranda's left wrist to her left thigh, round and round she went with the sticky plastic until she was satisfied, and then despite Miranda's protestations she repeated the process on the other side.

Queenie undid the belts and returned them to the wall, she replaced the handcuffs neatly on the bedside cabinet where they belonged, and started to undo the cuffs and leash securing Miranda's ankles, before replacing each item neatly in its proper place, finally just the collar around her neck and the leash to the bed frame remained.

"You can use the bog if you want" Queenie suggested.

Miranda carefully pried herself up off the mattress and eased to he edge of the bed, carefully dropping to the ground before gently making the few awkward steps to sit on the porcelain of the lavatory.

Queenie watched intently, "Nothing more humiliating than doing a piss while someone watches is there sweetie?"

Miranda stared, her insides had seized up it seemed, she so needed to go and yet nothing would flow, but then Queenie leaned over her and as her hands caressed Miranda's belly so they heard the tinkle of drops splashing, then a gush and then it was quiet. 

"Is that better?" Queenie asked, "Relieved?" 

Miranda shook her head her clitoris still craved attention, "I'll get you some milk, keep your strength up," Queenie promised.

Miranda saw the chance for escape as Queenie rose and went downstairs leaving the bedroom door open, and as soon as she dared Miranda tried to lift the bed so she could slide the end of her leash from under the bed leg, she jammed her shoulder under the bed frame and with a almighty heave Miranda found the leash came free the black leather sliding under the polished mahogany leg.

She wasted no time, and wearing only her corset and stockings she crept as quietly and quickly down the stairs as she dared, the front door was locked and she could not get her fingers to the catch, "Oh, you came down," Queenie said in surprise, "I have your milk here"

Miranda had no choice but to follow Queenie as she caught hold of Miranda's leash and ked her into the lounge, the leather couch look inviting but Queenie looped the leash around a hook on the lounge door as she went to sit alone on the couch.

"Good for shagging is leather," Queenie said conversationally, "Oh of course your wank, I reckon you're my height, I'll get you something."

Queenie was gone but a few seconds before returning with a broom, the end of the long wooden handle beautifully rounded and polished from much use she showed it to Miranda before propping it against the wall.

"Try this," Queenie suggested, as she unhooked Miranda's leash.

Miranda stared at her, not understanding Queenie's intentions but Queenie put an arm round Miranda's shoulders and a hand on her crotch and made her bend at the waist, Miranda struggled to keep her balance.

Miranda watched horrified and helpless as Queenie brought the polished rounded end of the broom handle up against the pink softness of her glistening pubes and as Queenie''s fingers probed and separated the gentle folds of Miranda's Lipstck smeared lower lips Queenie quietly drove the hard dark ebony coloured wooden shaft deep into Miranda's sex.

"Turn round Randa." Queenie ordered and as Miranda turned awkwardly so Queenie closed the door trapping the broom head against the floor at the base of the door while at the same time she looped the restraining leash over the hook on the door once again.

"Wank yourself then," Queenie suggested, "I'll open the curtains."

Miranda tried to stand upright but a spasm of pain or was it pleasure raced through her, she relaxed and another spasm hit her, every time she moved the pleasure-pain became intolerable, her moans from behind the gag became more tortured and as Queenie opened the curtains Miranda realised if she could see out then people could also see in, but that hardly mattered.

Miranda moaned into her gag, Quenie smiled as she sat on the couch to watch Miranda, "I like watching girls wanking" she said, "especially stuck up bitches, hurry up its nearly school kicking out time."

Miranda tried to move away but the leash held her back she couldn't lift herself high enough to climb off the broom handle and her attempts were making Quenie chuckle as Miranda's lower lips seemed to grip the shaft lifting the broom bodily off the floor only for the handle to gradually to slide out leaving a glistening slippery trail on the ebony of the shaft.

Miranda was standing on one leg, on tip toe, stretching to the utmost against the restraining leash when her screaming muscles could stand no more and she slipped down onto the full length of the hard firm broom shaft exciting her more than she could bear.




Queenie and Miranda Pt. 01-06



"Arrrgggggh" she screamed, the gag completely unable to restrain the force of her screaming but then Queenie advised, "Not so hard dear just ride it nicely."

Miranda's insides felt as if they had been forcibly ripped from her, but the broom handle was now loose no longer sticking but moving freely and despite everything Miranda was starting to ride the shaft. rising and falling as she flexed her ankle muscles and as she now found she needed to bend her knees to get the full effect as her juices flowed, everything in her upbringing told her she must stop, but her body would no longer follow her heads instructions, there was no way she could stop, she just had to relieve the unendurable throbbing within her no matter what the consequences.

"That's nice," Queenie said, "Wave to the mummies going to the school," she suggested and pointed out the young mothers on the footpath just a few yards away and then Queenie walked up to Miranda and unfastened the strap on the ball gag.

Miranda struggled to keep the ball in her mouth but her writhing and pounding and gasps for breath sent it bouncing to the floor, "Nooooo" she wailed. "Please."

"Be quiet dear people are looking." Queenie warned but Miranda was past help.

"No, you bloody, I need, I need to, I need it," Miranda wailed, between gasps for breaths, " I need, oh my god," she wailed, "Ohhhhhh."

Miranda's breathing slowed, her thrusting slowed and she started to moan, "ohhhh, oh god, help me please,"

"Had enough dear? never mind." Queenie asked knowingly as she released Miranda's leash from the hook on the door. "have a little lie down." she suggested as she guided Miranda forward and down until she gently laid her head on the floor, pulling her away from the door and the penetrating broom allowing the sticky broom handle to drop to the floor with a clang.

"Oh Mrs Jarvis, I feel quite faint." Miranda replied.

"I'll get your milk dear." Queenie announced and she walked past Miranda and went to the kitchen.

Queenie put the glass of milk in the microwave to warm it before adding two crushed sleeping pills and a small tot of Rum and stirring it briskly.

Miranda was lying on her back when Queenie returned and Queenie supported Miranda and held the glass to her lips as Miranda drank noisily and greedily a few spots running down her chin to drop on to her breasts before leaving milky trails where they disappeared under her corset.

"Better?" Queenie asked.

"Mrs Jarvis, you," Miranda said as the tiredness hit her, "You really, Ah, really must let."

"Let you do what dear?"

"Me sleep." Miranda slumped gratefully down onto the filthy carpet turning her head so she rested on her left cheek and she started to snore.

Queenie fetched the dish cloth from the kitchen and wiped the sticky goo from around Miranda's sex, a sticky trail led down into the duct tape securing Miranda's wrists making it nasty and gooey and beyond into Miranda's black pull up stockings. 

Queenie wiped Miranda dry with a hand towel, unbuckled her collar and leash and took them away back to the red room when she went upstairs to check the pockets of Miranda's suit and her handbag.

Queenie was going through Miranda's pockets when the mobile phone rang, out of curiosity Queenie answered it, "Hello."

"Is that you Miss Holmes."

"No, it's Mrs Jarvis here, that Miss Holmes had to go home in an urry, she got the shits real bad, stunk me bog out, she even left this phone behind, "

"Only she has an appointment."

"Ring the office, she told me," Queenie explained emphasising her common accent, "tell them I'm dying of gastric enteritis, she said, tell them to expect me when they see me, she said something about the staff cafe." 

"Why didn't you ring?"

"I didn't have the number, sorry, " said Queenie, "but she only just gone, Mike from down the road drove her because she felt so bad, I had to lend her me dress cause she shit hers before she got to the bog. I hope it a'int courageous."

"I think you mean contagious but I'll pass the message on, you dont think she'll make it in tomorrow either?"

"Nor the day after, bye" Queenie said cheerily.

Queenie surveyed the contents of Miranda's pockets and Handbag. Car keys, tampons, Lipstick, pens and about Twenty five pounds and a few coins, no credit cards, no debit cards, Miranda was very cautious about carrying valuables onto the estate, "bugger!" Queenie said out loud then she remembered the fifty Miranda earned earlier, still tucked under the edge of her corset.

Queenie hung Miranda's grey jacket and grey skirt on a hanger, found a large plastic bag, and a smaller one for Miranda's shoes and then took them out to Miranda's small grey car where she locked them in the space behind the rear seats.

She saw her kids coming home, all in a bunch, Danny the eldest shepherding them along.

"Can you stop at Granny Fifield's tonight loves?" she said.

"Doing a special tonight mam?" asked Tania,

"Mind your own, anyway, here's fifty for her and twenty for tea."

Queenie watched the kids walk away, they often stayed with Eileen Fifield, Eileen's son Frank was Tania's dad or so Queenie told them, and it was handy for the kids to stop there when she got arrested or did a twenty eight day stretch for shoplifting or soliciting.

Two

Steve Davies watched the office clock, occasionally glancing at his watch and the clock on his computer monitor as the time crawled towards Two thirty when he had to depart for his three o'clock appointment.

He fiddled with an email to colleagues, pushed papers from in-tray to pending, and back again and generally performed his duties as a senior council manager with the practised ease of a man with no conscience, he worried as always, he had an image to maintain, he could hardly have an office affair, without word of his little problem getting around, and the humiliation of leaving the lady disappointed after a one night stand was getting him down.

Steve knew the police were monitoring the CCTV his colleagues had installed in the red light areas, indeed he had spent many happy hours viewing selected highlights with colleagues and Police colleagues so picking up a whore was not really an option, hence his Three o'clock appointment with Mrs Jarvis at number three, Alderman Lucas Drive, just off the Hinksey Road on the East Canning estate. 

Two thirty came around, Steve walked down to the staff car park, unlocked the door of his silver grey Ford using the remote control, hung his jacket on the hook beside the door pillar and drove carefully through the twenty mile per hour zone, trying not to attract attention until the Sat Nav led him unerringly the wrong way down the one way system to number three, he parked behind a small grey Ford.

Steve checked his tie in the reflection in the glass of the car door before he turned and walked up the short cracked and broken concrete pathway to the fading peeling blue painted door of Number Three, he knocked loudly, then stood back away from the door and waited, but nothing seemed to happen, he listened intently for sounds of movement but heard nothing, then his heart leaped as Queenie Jarvis answered. "Just a minute."

He heard footfalls as Queenie descended the stairs, he heard the rattle of the lock and chain as she prepared to open the front door and then he heard her again.

"Sorry Love." Queenie apologised, as she opened the door wearing a housecoat over a sensible skirt and blouse as agreed, "You're early." 

Steve stared at Queenie's ample chest and felt his erection gradually subsiding, Oueenie looked just like one of his mother's WI chums, he thought.

"I got a touch of thrush, but my girlfriend's upstairs waiting," she continued, "Bondaged, she's a bit shy."

"Yes, alright, that's fine" Steve agreed readily, relieved that he would not have to try to perform for Queenie , "Is it the same money?"

"Extra fifty quid if you don't mind." Queenie simpered, "But she's really lovely, you'll like her, our Sadie told me what you like."

Steve smiled nervously, he never used the same lady twice, but even so when he asked Sadie for suggestions he never suspected she would share their experiences with a third party, "Oh" he exclaimed quietly.

"Highly recommended," Queenie reassured him, "do you have the money?"

Steve handed the notes over, "Leave the fifty on the bedside table upstairs for Randa will you" Queenie requested, as she returned the last fifty.

"Randa? is she foreign," Steve asked, nervously.

"Miranda, short for Miranda, but you're here for love not conversation" Queenie recovered quickly and suggested, "Don't stand on the doorstep, slip your shoes off and come upstairs."

Miranda lay on the bed struggling trying to free her wrists, or to spit out the ball gag which was hurting her mouth, or to free her legs or the leash or collar around her neck, Queenie had no sooner threatened to make Miranda "do" her Three o'clock, than they heard a knock at the door and Queenie had thrown on her skirt and top and housecoat and rushed downstairs.

The sound of approaching voices then footsteps coming up the stairs spurred Miranda to even greater efforts to get free, ugly red marks appeared at her wrists where the hard metal pressed against her soft flesh as she realised it could be her last chance to struggle free but suddenly she froze with shock as the door opened revealing a man, ruggedly handsome yet shy and nervous, smartly dressed, dark haired, broad shouldered, blue eyed she knew him, not by name but she recognised the face, the tie and suit, he worked in building control, in the offices on the third floor, two floors below her own office. She froze, uncertain of what to do.

"Mmmm ugghh Mmmm" Miranda tried to shout, to plead to beg but Steve had no chance to understand.

"Lovely little actress ain't she." Queenie suggested, "What do you think."

Steve stared at Miranda as she lay across the bed, he wanted soft compliant subservience not the restrained helplessness Miranda exhibited as she lay bathed in the glow of the red lighting, a crude painted whore, tied, gagged and bound yet for all that her sex glistened with anticipation, her perfect yet small breasts were real enough yet her constrained tummy held flat by the corset and the child like hairstyle were clearly intended to deceive as she was clearly older than a child, in her twenties at least but the prospect of sex without conversation was something Steve found tremendously exciting, perhaps too exciting he worried as his penis reared and strained.

"She's just raw sex" Steve replied to Quenies earlier query.

"Best get your kit off then," Queenie suggested "I got a hanger for your jacket and trousers." Steve started to undo his trouser belt before unzipping his flies, he stepped out of his trousers before handing his jacket and trousers to Queenie to hang up.

Miranda quickly realised the predicament she was in, clearly this man was committing a serious breach of trust, a offence punishable by instant dismissal by visiting a woman in works time and was clearly not going to want to get into more trouble.

"Mmmm Mmm" Miranda moaned "Help me." but Steve was down to his underpants, his shirt and tie on the hanger Queenie had handed him, and his manhood was straining,Steve carefully eased his underpants down his hairy legs showing Miranda the full extent of his straining manhood, Queenie looked on admiringly, almost straight with only the very tip emerging from the smooth foreskin but nice and long, six inches seven perhaps, it was difficult to tell without a ruler, but nicely streamlined, easy to insert, Queenie regretted not "doing" Steve herself briefly but remembered Sadie's warning of premature release.

Steve advanced towards Miranda dressed only in his socks and vest Miranda stared at Steve's penis, perversely hoping he would want her to suck it so he would remove her gag and allow her to scream, but no he crawled up the bed and rolled the condom Queenie had handed him over his straining penis and before she could really resist his fingers were at Miranda's sex.

Steve llaced his knees between Miranda's and eased her thighs apart and she saw and felt the tip of the condom against her crotch but it was starting to slide backwards towards her tight puckered Anus.

"Wrong hole love, she hasn't had an enema today so best not," Queenie suggested "and it's a hundred extra, here let me." she took more lube and as she sat on the bed she first worked more lube into Miranda's sopping hole, before grasping Steve's penis firmly to guide it between Miranda's the soft yielding flesh of Mirands's lower lips, it slid in easily for an inch or two pink on pink, Queenie looked on approvingly, she could not really see the join, it was like they had become one, not erotic like when a black cock pistons in and out but soft and loving. 

"Nnnnnn," Miranda protested but Steve was already easing further inside her, spreading her as he thrusted. reminding her of what she had missed in recent weeks. reopening the tunnel where only dainty fingers usually played, reminding her of her femininity, making her juices churn and her heart flutter as first gently then more firmly then forcibly he thrust against her holding her shoulders to get a better purchase until finally he was fully sheathed inside her, his thick curly pubic hair raking her freshly shaven mound and tickling the area around her now exposed clit, his manly chest now so close her pert little breasts that she felt the hairs on his chest seemingly brushing her erect straining nipples. and his mouth so close to her shoulder she feared his hot breath would burn her skin.

Steve raised himself up, his chest away from her breasts until he stared down into Miranda's eyes looking but not seeing her distress or was it excitement, he wanted to kiss her scarlet lips bur the gag was there impeding him. 

Miranda felt Steve's hot peppermint scented breath on her face, it seemed bizarre to be penetrated without being kissed, her sex still felt strained, but by now her arousal was easing the discomfort although she was still aware that with her arms tied behind her, she was helpless Steve continued to pin her to the bed and thrust into her making her totally his.

Miranda realised she could do nothing more to resist, she steeled herself for the onslaught and comforted herself with the sure knowledge that at least she would get some satisfaction, as he thrusted, once, twice, three times. four thrusts, her clitty started throbbing with excitement and then to her amazement and disbelief she felt his pre orgasmic twitching.

Steve also felt the onset of premature ejaculation, but it was too late, no counting of sheep or concentration on the Building Regulations chapter three subsection A could halt the rush of sperm from the boiling cauldron of his testes to shoot down the length of his shaft to flood her womb, to fill the condom.

"Nnnnnnngg" Miranda screamed silently, how could he be so selfish, she wondered, she needed something, some satisfaction, her interest was aroused her clit needed attention yet instead she felt the condom swelling then his penis contracting, and sliding from her.

"She's good isn't she." Queenie asked.

Steve nodded, trying to hide his disappointment with himself and his performance.

"Great," he said brightly.

"Nnnngggg" No what about me? Miranda tried to scream but Steve was intent other things and Queenie enjoyed seeing Miranda's discomfort and humiliation.

"I'll give you Lilla's card, if you don't want to come back here again." Queenie offered as she watched Steve throw the condom down the lavatory, wipe himself on some tissue paper, operate the flush and then take his clothes from Queenie before starting to dress again.

"Goodbye Randa, Thank you." Steve said inadequately.

"Nnnngggg" Miranda tried to reply, but as Steve went to remove Miranda's ball gag Queenie stopped him.

"She's shy" Queenie explained. "She want's her money, tuck it in her corset."

Steve's fingers trembled as he eased the crisp fifty between the tough leather of the Corset and the pink softness of Miranda's skin, she wondered, no hoped, that he would caress her clit or nipples or at least do something to relieve her, but he merely said "Thanks" and turned away, collecting his Jacket from Queenie and after kissing Queenie's cheek as he went to descend the stairs.

He looked at his watch, it had taken nine minutes, from door knock to return to the car, but he felt satisfied, elated even and even considered whether he should seek the same whore again. The thought pleased him, at least he stayed hard long enough to enter her and she was lovely, and her cunt was lovely and soft yet tight and he hoped she had enjoyed it as much as he had.

Steve walked to his car and that is when he noticed the Council parking permit in Miranda's car window and a cold sense of fear came over him, "Miranda Holmes Social Services" it said, "On Call" how could they have known, he wondered, but more importantly, or was it coincidence, or was the owner, taking pictures or video at this very minute he wondered?" 

Suddenly Steve needed to be in his comfort zone behind his desk.

Steve was indeed on video, Queenie's boyfriend had installed a state of the art digital Video recording facility with multiple cameras in the red bedroom and it showed everything, from the moment Miranda was naked on the bed right until Steve left the building.

With Steve gone Queenie returned to Miranda.

Miranda was crying, Quenie understood and took a slim six inch dilo from her shelf and gently slid it inside Miranda, she gave ten firm thrusts and then set it down. "NNnngggggg," Miranda cried,

"Will you be a good little whore if I bring you off." Quenie asked.

Miranda's eyes darted around the room but finally she nodded.

Queenie stood up and selected a long leather belt from the wall, she slid it under Miranda and under her left arm but over her right, then she took a second belt an passed it over the left arm and under the right arm so Miranda found her arms trapped to her sides but then Queenie removed the Handcuffs from Miranda's wrists and pulled her arms to her sides.

"You said you would be good." Queenie reminded her as she took a large roll of tape and started to tape Miranda's left wrist to her left thigh, round and round she went with the sticky plastic until she was satisfied, and then despite Miranda's protestations she repeated the process on the other side.

Queenie undid the belts and returned them to the wall, she replaced the handcuffs neatly on the bedside cabinet where they belonged, and started to undo the cuffs and leash securing Miranda's ankles, before replacing each item neatly in its proper place, finally just the collar around her neck and the leash to the bed frame remained.

"You can use the bog if you want" Queenie suggested.

Miranda carefully pried herself up off the mattress and eased to he edge of the bed, carefully dropping to the ground before gently making the few awkward steps to sit on the porcelain of the lavatory.

Queenie watched intently, "Nothing more humiliating than doing a piss while someone watches is there sweetie?"

Miranda stared, her insides had seized up it seemed, she so needed to go and yet nothing would flow, but then Queenie leaned over her and as her hands caressed Miranda's belly so they heard the tinkle of drops splashing, then a gush and then it was quiet. 

"Is that better?" Queenie asked, "Relieved?" 

Miranda shook her head her clitoris still craved attention, "I'll get you some milk, keep your strength up," Queenie promised.

Miranda saw the chance for escape as Queenie rose and went downstairs leaving the bedroom door open, and as soon as she dared Miranda tried to lift the bed so she could slide the end of her leash from under the bed leg, she jammed her shoulder under the bed frame and with a almighty heave Miranda found the leash came free the black leather sliding under the polished mahogany leg.




Queenie and Miranda Pt. 01-06



She wasted no time, and wearing only her corset and stockings she crept as quietly and quickly down the stairs as she dared, the front door was locked and she could not get her fingers to the catch, "Oh, you came down," Queenie said in surprise, "I have your milk here"

Miranda had no choice but to follow Queenie as she caught hold of Miranda's leash and ked her into the lounge, the leather couch look inviting but Queenie looped the leash around a hook on the lounge door as she went to sit alone on the couch.

"Good for shagging is leather," Queenie said conversationally, "Oh of course your wank, I reckon you're my height, I'll get you something."

Queenie was gone but a few seconds before returning with a broom, the end of the long wooden handle beautifully rounded and polished from much use she showed it to Miranda before propping it against the wall.

"Try this," Queenie suggested, as she unhooked Miranda's leash.

Miranda stared at her, not understanding Queenie's intentions but Queenie put an arm round Miranda's shoulders and a hand on her crotch and made her bend at the waist, Miranda struggled to keep her balance.

Miranda watched horrified and helpless as Queenie brought the polished rounded end of the broom handle up against the pink softness of her glistening pubes and as Queenie''s fingers probed and separated the gentle folds of Miranda's Lipstck smeared lower lips Queenie quietly drove the hard dark ebony coloured wooden shaft deep into Miranda's sex.

"Turn round Randa." Queenie ordered and as Miranda turned awkwardly so Queenie closed the door trapping the broom head against the floor at the base of the door while at the same time she looped the restraining leash over the hook on the door once again.

"Wank yourself then," Queenie suggested, "I'll open the curtains."

Miranda tried to stand upright but a spasm of pain or was it pleasure raced through her, she relaxed and another spasm hit her, every time she moved the pleasure-pain became intolerable, her moans from behind the gag became more tortured and as Queenie opened the curtains Miranda realised if she could see out then people could also see in, but that hardly mattered.

Miranda moaned into her gag, Quenie smiled as she sat on the couch to watch Miranda, "I like watching girls wanking" she said, "especially stuck up bitches, hurry up its nearly school kicking out time."

Miranda tried to move away but the leash held her back she couldn't lift herself high enough to climb off the broom handle and her attempts were making Quenie chuckle as Miranda's lower lips seemed to grip the shaft lifting the broom bodily off the floor only for the handle to gradually to slide out leaving a glistening slippery trail on the ebony of the shaft.

Miranda was standing on one leg, on tip toe, stretching to the utmost against the restraining leash when her screaming muscles could stand no more and she slipped down onto the full length of the hard firm broom shaft exciting her more than she could bear.

"Arrrgggggh" she screamed, the gag completely unable to restrain the force of her screaming but then Queenie advised, "Not so hard dear just ride it nicely."

Miranda's insides felt as if they had been forcibly ripped from her, but the broom handle was now loose no longer sticking but moving freely and despite everything Miranda was starting to ride the shaft. rising and falling as she flexed her ankle muscles and as she now found she needed to bend her knees to get the full effect as her juices flowed, everything in her upbringing told her she must stop, but her body would no longer follow her heads instructions, there was no way she could stop, she just had to relieve the unendurable throbbing within her no matter what the consequences.

"That's nice," Queenie said, "Wave to the mummies going to the school," she suggested and pointed out the young mothers on the footpath just a few yards away and then Queenie walked up to Miranda and unfastened the strap on the ball gag.

Miranda struggled to keep the ball in her mouth but her writhing and pounding and gasps for breath sent it bouncing to the floor, "Nooooo" she wailed. "Please."

"Be quiet dear people are looking." Queenie warned but Miranda was past help.

"No, you bloody, I need, I need to, I need it," Miranda wailed, between gasps for breaths, " I need, oh my god," she wailed, "Ohhhhhh."

Miranda's breathing slowed, her thrusting slowed and she started to moan, "ohhhh, oh god, help me please,"

"Had enough dear? never mind." Queenie asked knowingly as she released Miranda's leash from the hook on the door. "have a little lie down." she suggested as she guided Miranda forward and down until she gently laid her head on the floor, pulling her away from the door and the penetrating broom allowing the sticky broom handle to drop to the floor with a clang.

"Oh Mrs Jarvis, I feel quite faint." Miranda replied.

"I'll get your milk dear." Queenie announced and she walked past Miranda and went to the kitchen.

Queenie put the glass of milk in the microwave to warm it before adding two crushed sleeping pills and a small tot of Rum and stirring it briskly.

Miranda was lying on her back when Queenie returned and Queenie supported Miranda and held the glass to her lips as Miranda drank noisily and greedily a few spots running down her chin to drop on to her breasts before leaving milky trails where they disappeared under her corset.

"Better?" Queenie asked.

"Mrs Jarvis, you," Miranda said as the tiredness hit her, "You really, Ah, really must let."

"Let you do what dear?"

"Me sleep." Miranda slumped gratefully down onto the filthy carpet turning her head so she rested on her left cheek and she started to snore.

Queenie fetched the dish cloth from the kitchen and wiped the sticky goo from around Miranda's sex, a sticky trail led down into the duct tape securing Miranda's wrists making it nasty and gooey and beyond into Miranda's black pull up stockings. 

Queenie wiped Miranda dry with a hand towel, unbuckled her collar and leash and took them away back to the red room when she went upstairs to check the pockets of Miranda's suit and her handbag.

Queenie was going through Miranda's pockets when the mobile phone rang, out of curiosity Queenie answered it, "Hello."

"Is that you Miss Holmes."

"No, it's Mrs Jarvis here, that Miss Holmes had to go home in an urry, she got the shits real bad, stunk me bog out, she even left this phone behind, "

"Only she has an appointment."

"Ring the office, she told me," Queenie explained emphasising her common accent, "tell them I'm dying of gastric enteritis, she said, tell them to expect me when they see me, she said something about the staff cafe." 

"Why didn't you ring?"

"I didn't have the number, sorry, " said Queenie, "but she only just gone, Mike from down the road drove her because she felt so bad, I had to lend her me dress cause she shit hers before she got to the bog. I hope it a'int courageous."

"I think you mean contagious but I'll pass the message on, you dont think she'll make it in tomorrow either?"

"Nor the day after, bye" Queenie said cheerily.

Queenie surveyed the contents of Miranda's pockets and Handbag. Car keys, tampons, Lipstick, pens and about Twenty five pounds and a few coins, no credit cards, no debit cards, Miranda was very cautious about carrying valuables onto the estate, "bugger!" Queenie said out loud then she remembered the fifty Miranda earned earlier, still tucked under the edge of her corset.

Queenie hung Miranda's grey jacket and grey skirt on a hanger, found a large plastic bag, and a smaller one for Miranda's shoes and then took them out to Miranda's small grey car where she locked them in the space behind the rear seats.

She saw her kids coming home, all in a bunch, Danny the eldest shepherding them along.

"Can you stop at Granny Fifield's tonight loves?" she said.

"Doing a special tonight mam?" asked Tania,

"Mind your own, anyway, here's fifty for her and twenty for tea."

Queenie watched the kids walk away, they often stayed with Eileen Fifield, Eileen's son Frank was Tania's dad or so Queenie told them, and it was handy for the kids to stop there when she got arrested or did a twenty eight day stretch for shoplifting or soliciting.

Two

Steve Davies watched the office clock, occasionally glancing at his watch and the clock on his computer monitor as the time crawled towards Two thirty when he had to depart for his three o'clock appointment.

He fiddled with an email to colleagues, pushed papers from in-tray to pending, and back again and generally performed his duties as a senior council manager with the practised ease of a man with no conscience, he worried as always, he had an image to maintain, he could hardly have an office affair, without word of his little problem getting around, and the humiliation of leaving the lady disappointed after a one night stand was getting him down.

Steve knew the police were monitoring the CCTV his colleagues had installed in the red light areas, indeed he had spent many happy hours viewing selected highlights with colleagues and Police colleagues so picking up a whore was not really an option, hence his Three o'clock appointment with Mrs Jarvis at number three, Alderman Lucas Drive, just off the Hinksey Road on the East Canning estate. 

Two thirty came around, Steve walked down to the staff car park, unlocked the door of his silver grey Ford using the remote control, hung his jacket on the hook beside the door pillar and drove carefully through the twenty mile per hour zone, trying not to attract attention until the Sat Nav led him unerringly the wrong way down the one way system to number three, he parked behind a small grey Ford.

Steve checked his tie in the reflection in the glass of the car door before he turned and walked up the short cracked and broken concrete pathway to the fading peeling blue painted door of Number Three, he knocked loudly, then stood back away from the door and waited, but nothing seemed to happen, he listened intently for sounds of movement but heard nothing, then his heart leaped as Queenie Jarvis answered. "Just a minute."

He heard footfalls as Queenie descended the stairs, he heard the rattle of the lock and chain as she prepared to open the front door and then he heard her again.

"Sorry Love." Queenie apologised, as she opened the door wearing a housecoat over a sensible skirt and blouse as agreed, "You're early." 

Steve stared at Queenie's ample chest and felt his erection gradually subsiding, Oueenie looked just like one of his mother's WI chums, he thought.

"I got a touch of thrush, but my girlfriend's upstairs waiting," she continued, "Bondaged, she's a bit shy."

"Yes, alright, that's fine" Steve agreed readily, relieved that he would not have to try to perform for Queenie , "Is it the same money?"

"Extra fifty quid if you don't mind." Queenie simpered, "But she's really lovely, you'll like her, our Sadie told me what you like."

Steve smiled nervously, he never used the same lady twice, but even so when he asked Sadie for suggestions he never suspected she would share their experiences with a third party, "Oh" he exclaimed quietly.

"Highly recommended," Queenie reassured him, "do you have the money?"

Steve handed the notes over, "Leave the fifty on the bedside table upstairs for Randa will you" Queenie requested, as she returned the last fifty.

"Randa? is she foreign," Steve asked, nervously.

"Miranda, short for Miranda, but you're here for love not conversation" Queenie recovered quickly and suggested, "Don't stand on the doorstep, slip your shoes off and come upstairs."

Miranda lay on the bed struggling trying to free her wrists, or to spit out the ball gag which was hurting her mouth, or to free her legs or the leash or collar around her neck, Queenie had no sooner threatened to make Miranda "do" her Three o'clock, than they heard a knock at the door and Queenie had thrown on her skirt and top and housecoat and rushed downstairs.

The sound of approaching voices then footsteps coming up the stairs spurred Miranda to even greater efforts to get free, ugly red marks appeared at her wrists where the hard metal pressed against her soft flesh as she realised it could be her last chance to struggle free but suddenly she froze with shock as the door opened revealing a man, ruggedly handsome yet shy and nervous, smartly dressed, dark haired, broad shouldered, blue eyed she knew him, not by name but she recognised the face, the tie and suit, he worked in building control, in the offices on the third floor, two floors below her own office. She froze, uncertain of what to do.

"Mmmm ugghh Mmmm" Miranda tried to shout, to plead to beg but Steve had no chance to understand.

"Lovely little actress ain't she." Queenie suggested, "What do you think."

Steve stared at Miranda as she lay across the bed, he wanted soft compliant subservience not the restrained helplessness Miranda exhibited as she lay bathed in the glow of the red lighting, a crude painted whore, tied, gagged and bound yet for all that her sex glistened with anticipation, her perfect yet small breasts were real enough yet her constrained tummy held flat by the corset and the child like hairstyle were clearly intended to deceive as she was clearly older than a child, in her twenties at least but the prospect of sex without conversation was something Steve found tremendously exciting, perhaps too exciting he worried as his penis reared and strained.

"She's just raw sex" Steve replied to Quenies earlier query.

"Best get your kit off then," Queenie suggested "I got a hanger for your jacket and trousers." Steve started to undo his trouser belt before unzipping his flies, he stepped out of his trousers before handing his jacket and trousers to Queenie to hang up.

Miranda quickly realised the predicament she was in, clearly this man was committing a serious breach of trust, a offence punishable by instant dismissal by visiting a woman in works time and was clearly not going to want to get into more trouble.

"Mmmm Mmm" Miranda moaned "Help me." but Steve was down to his underpants, his shirt and tie on the hanger Queenie had handed him, and his manhood was straining,Steve carefully eased his underpants down his hairy legs showing Miranda the full extent of his straining manhood, Queenie looked on admiringly, almost straight with only the very tip emerging from the smooth foreskin but nice and long, six inches seven perhaps, it was difficult to tell without a ruler, but nicely streamlined, easy to insert, Queenie regretted not "doing" Steve herself briefly but remembered Sadie's warning of premature release.

Steve advanced towards Miranda dressed only in his socks and vest Miranda stared at Steve's penis, perversely hoping he would want her to suck it so he would remove her gag and allow her to scream, but no he crawled up the bed and rolled the condom Queenie had handed him over his straining penis and before she could really resist his fingers were at Miranda's sex.

Steve llaced his knees between Miranda's and eased her thighs apart and she saw and felt the tip of the condom against her crotch but it was starting to slide backwards towards her tight puckered Anus.

"Wrong hole love, she hasn't had an enema today so best not," Queenie suggested "and it's a hundred extra, here let me." she took more lube and as she sat on the bed she first worked more lube into Miranda's sopping hole, before grasping Steve's penis firmly to guide it between Miranda's the soft yielding flesh of Mirands's lower lips, it slid in easily for an inch or two pink on pink, Queenie looked on approvingly, she could not really see the join, it was like they had become one, not erotic like when a black cock pistons in and out but soft and loving. 

"Nnnnnn," Miranda protested but Steve was already easing further inside her, spreading her as he thrusted. reminding her of what she had missed in recent weeks. reopening the tunnel where only dainty fingers usually played, reminding her of her femininity, making her juices churn and her heart flutter as first gently then more firmly then forcibly he thrust against her holding her shoulders to get a better purchase until finally he was fully sheathed inside her, his thick curly pubic hair raking her freshly shaven mound and tickling the area around her now exposed clit, his manly chest now so close her pert little breasts that she felt the hairs on his chest seemingly brushing her erect straining nipples. and his mouth so close to her shoulder she feared his hot breath would burn her skin.

Steve raised himself up, his chest away from her breasts until he stared down into Miranda's eyes looking but not seeing her distress or was it excitement, he wanted to kiss her scarlet lips bur the gag was there impeding him. 

Miranda felt Steve's hot peppermint scented breath on her face, it seemed bizarre to be penetrated without being kissed, her sex still felt strained, but by now her arousal was easing the discomfort although she was still aware that with her arms tied behind her, she was helpless Steve continued to pin her to the bed and thrust into her making her totally his.

Miranda realised she could do nothing more to resist, she steeled herself for the onslaught and comforted herself with the sure knowledge that at least she would get some satisfaction, as he thrusted, once, twice, three times. four thrusts, her clitty started throbbing with excitement and then to her amazement and disbelief she felt his pre orgasmic twitching.

Steve also felt the onset of premature ejaculation, but it was too late, no counting of sheep or concentration on the Building Regulations chapter three subsection A could halt the rush of sperm from the boiling cauldron of his testes to shoot down the length of his shaft to flood her womb, to fill the condom.

"Nnnnnnngg" Miranda screamed silently, how could he be so selfish, she wondered, she needed something, some satisfaction, her interest was aroused her clit needed attention yet instead she felt the condom swelling then his penis contracting, and sliding from her.

"She's good isn't she." Queenie asked.

Steve nodded, trying to hide his disappointment with himself and his performance.

"Great," he said brightly.

"Nnnngggg" No what about me? Miranda tried to scream but Steve was intent other things and Queenie enjoyed seeing Miranda's discomfort and humiliation.

"I'll give you Lilla's card, if you don't want to come back here again." Queenie offered as she watched Steve throw the condom down the lavatory, wipe himself on some tissue paper, operate the flush and then take his clothes from Queenie before starting to dress again.

"Goodbye Randa, Thank you." Steve said inadequately.

"Nnnngggg" Miranda tried to reply, but as Steve went to remove Miranda's ball gag Queenie stopped him.

"She's shy" Queenie explained. "She want's her money, tuck it in her corset."

Steve's fingers trembled as he eased the crisp fifty between the tough leather of the Corset and the pink softness of Miranda's skin, she wondered, no hoped, that he would caress her clit or nipples or at least do something to relieve her, but he merely said "Thanks" and turned away, collecting his Jacket from Queenie and after kissing Queenie's cheek as he went to descend the stairs.

He looked at his watch, it had taken nine minutes, from door knock to return to the car, but he felt satisfied, elated even and even considered whether he should seek the same whore again. The thought pleased him, at least he stayed hard long enough to enter her and she was lovely, and her cunt was lovely and soft yet tight and he hoped she had enjoyed it as much as he had.

Steve walked to his car and that is when he noticed the Council parking permit in Miranda's car window and a cold sense of fear came over him, "Miranda Holmes Social Services" it said, "On Call" how could they have known, he wondered, but more importantly, or was it coincidence, or was the owner, taking pictures or video at this very minute he wondered?" 




Queenie and Miranda Pt. 01-06



Suddenly Steve needed to be in his comfort zone behind his desk.

Steve was indeed on video, Queenie's boyfriend had installed a state of the art digital Video recording facility with multiple cameras in the red bedroom and it showed everything, from the moment Miranda was naked on the bed right until Steve left the building.

With Steve gone Queenie returned to Miranda.

Miranda was crying, Quenie understood and took a slim six inch dilo from her shelf and gently slid it inside Miranda, she gave ten firm thrusts and then set it down. "NNnngggggg," Miranda cried,

"Will you be a good little whore if I bring you off." Quenie asked.

Miranda's eyes darted around the room but finally she nodded.

Queenie stood up and selected a long leather belt from the wall, she slid it under Miranda and under her left arm but over her right, then she took a second belt an passed it over the left arm and under the right arm so Miranda found her arms trapped to her sides but then Queenie removed the Handcuffs from Miranda's wrists and pulled her arms to her sides.

"You said you would be good." Queenie reminded her as she took a large roll of tape and started to tape Miranda's left wrist to her left thigh, round and round she went with the sticky plastic until she was satisfied, and then despite Miranda's protestations she repeated the process on the other side.

Queenie undid the belts and returned them to the wall, she replaced the handcuffs neatly on the bedside cabinet where they belonged, and started to undo the cuffs and leash securing Miranda's ankles, before replacing each item neatly in its proper place, finally just the collar around her neck and the leash to the bed frame remained.

"You can use the bog if you want" Queenie suggested.

Miranda carefully pried herself up off the mattress and eased to he edge of the bed, carefully dropping to the ground before gently making the few awkward steps to sit on the porcelain of the lavatory.

Queenie watched intently, "Nothing more humiliating than doing a piss while someone watches is there sweetie?"

Miranda stared, her insides had seized up it seemed, she so needed to go and yet nothing would flow, but then Queenie leaned over her and as her hands caressed Miranda's belly so they heard the tinkle of drops splashing, then a gush and then it was quiet. 

"Is that better?" Queenie asked, "Relieved?" 

Miranda shook her head her clitoris still craved attention, "I'll get you some milk, keep your strength up," Queenie promised.

Miranda saw the chance for escape as Queenie rose and went downstairs leaving the bedroom door open, and as soon as she dared Miranda tried to lift the bed so she could slide the end of her leash from under the bed leg, she jammed her shoulder under the bed frame and with a almighty heave Miranda found the leash came free the black leather sliding under the polished mahogany leg.

She wasted no time, and wearing only her corset and stockings she crept as quietly and quickly down the stairs as she dared, the front door was locked and she could not get her fingers to the catch, "Oh, you came down," Queenie said in surprise, "I have your milk here"

Miranda had no choice but to follow Queenie as she caught hold of Miranda's leash and ked her into the lounge, the leather couch look inviting but Queenie looped the leash around a hook on the lounge door as she went to sit alone on the couch.

"Good for shagging is leather," Queenie said conversationally, "Oh of course your wank, I reckon you're my height, I'll get you something."

Queenie was gone but a few seconds before returning with a broom, the end of the long wooden handle beautifully rounded and polished from much use she showed it to Miranda before propping it against the wall.

"Try this," Queenie suggested, as she unhooked Miranda's leash.

Miranda stared at her, not understanding Queenie's intentions but Queenie put an arm round Miranda's shoulders and a hand on her crotch and made her bend at the waist, Miranda struggled to keep her balance.

Miranda watched horrified and helpless as Queenie brought the polished rounded end of the broom handle up against the pink softness of her glistening pubes and as Queenie''s fingers probed and separated the gentle folds of Miranda's Lipstck smeared lower lips Queenie quietly drove the hard dark ebony coloured wooden shaft deep into Miranda's sex.

"Turn round Randa." Queenie ordered and as Miranda turned awkwardly so Queenie closed the door trapping the broom head against the floor at the base of the door while at the same time she looped the restraining leash over the hook on the door once again.

"Wank yourself then," Queenie suggested, "I'll open the curtains."

Miranda tried to stand upright but a spasm of pain or was it pleasure raced through her, she relaxed and another spasm hit her, every time she moved the pleasure-pain became intolerable, her moans from behind the gag became more tortured and as Queenie opened the curtains Miranda realised if she could see out then people could also see in, but that hardly mattered.

Miranda moaned into her gag, Quenie smiled as she sat on the couch to watch Miranda, "I like watching girls wanking" she said, "especially stuck up bitches, hurry up its nearly school kicking out time."

Miranda tried to move away but the leash held her back she couldn't lift herself high enough to climb off the broom handle and her attempts were making Quenie chuckle as Miranda's lower lips seemed to grip the shaft lifting the broom bodily off the floor only for the handle to gradually to slide out leaving a glistening slippery trail on the ebony of the shaft.

Miranda was standing on one leg, on tip toe, stretching to the utmost against the restraining leash when her screaming muscles could stand no more and she slipped down onto the full length of the hard firm broom shaft exciting her more than she could bear.

"Arrrgggggh" she screamed, the gag completely unable to restrain the force of her screaming but then Queenie advised, "Not so hard dear just ride it nicely."

Miranda's insides felt as if they had been forcibly ripped from her, but the broom handle was now loose no longer sticking but moving freely and despite everything Miranda was starting to ride the shaft. rising and falling as she flexed her ankle muscles and as she now found she needed to bend her knees to get the full effect as her juices flowed, everything in her upbringing told her she must stop, but her body would no longer follow her heads instructions, there was no way she could stop, she just had to relieve the unendurable throbbing within her no matter what the consequences.

"That's nice," Queenie said, "Wave to the mummies going to the school," she suggested and pointed out the young mothers on the footpath just a few yards away and then Queenie walked up to Miranda and unfastened the strap on the ball gag.

Miranda struggled to keep the ball in her mouth but her writhing and pounding and gasps for breath sent it bouncing to the floor, "Nooooo" she wailed. "Please."

"Be quiet dear people are looking." Queenie warned but Miranda was past help.

"No, you bloody, I need, I need to, I need it," Miranda wailed, between gasps for breaths, " I need, oh my god," she wailed, "Ohhhhhh."

Miranda's breathing slowed, her thrusting slowed and she started to moan, "ohhhh, oh god, help me please,"

"Had enough dear? never mind." Queenie asked knowingly as she released Miranda's leash from the hook on the door. "have a little lie down." she suggested as she guided Miranda forward and down until she gently laid her head on the floor, pulling her away from the door and the penetrating broom allowing the sticky broom handle to drop to the floor with a clang.

"Oh Mrs Jarvis, I feel quite faint." Miranda replied.

"I'll get your milk dear." Queenie announced and she walked past Miranda and went to the kitchen.

Queenie put the glass of milk in the microwave to warm it before adding two crushed sleeping pills and a small tot of Rum and stirring it briskly.

Miranda was lying on her back when Queenie returned and Queenie supported Miranda and held the glass to her lips as Miranda drank noisily and greedily a few spots running down her chin to drop on to her breasts before leaving milky trails where they disappeared under her corset.

"Better?" Queenie asked.

"Mrs Jarvis, you," Miranda said as the tiredness hit her, "You really, Ah, really must let."

"Let you do what dear?"

"Me sleep." Miranda slumped gratefully down onto the filthy carpet turning her head so she rested on her left cheek and she started to snore.

Queenie fetched the dish cloth from the kitchen and wiped the sticky goo from around Miranda's sex, a sticky trail led down into the duct tape securing Miranda's wrists making it nasty and gooey and beyond into Miranda's black pull up stockings. 

Queenie wiped Miranda dry with a hand towel, unbuckled her collar and leash and took them away back to the red room when she went upstairs to check the pockets of Miranda's suit and her handbag.

Queenie was going through Miranda's pockets when the mobile phone rang, out of curiosity Queenie answered it, "Hello."

"Is that you Miss Holmes."

"No, it's Mrs Jarvis here, that Miss Holmes had to go home in an urry, she got the shits real bad, stunk me bog out, she even left this phone behind, "

"Only she has an appointment."

"Ring the office, she told me," Queenie explained emphasising her common accent, "tell them I'm dying of gastric enteritis, she said, tell them to expect me when they see me, she said something about the staff cafe." 

"Why didn't you ring?"

"I didn't have the number, sorry, " said Queenie, "but she only just gone, Mike from down the road drove her because she felt so bad, I had to lend her me dress cause she shit hers before she got to the bog. I hope it a'int courageous."

"I think you mean contagious but I'll pass the message on, you dont think she'll make it in tomorrow either?"

"Nor the day after, bye" Queenie said cheerily.

Queenie surveyed the contents of Miranda's pockets and Handbag. Car keys, tampons, Lipstick, pens and about Twenty five pounds and a few coins, no credit cards, no debit cards, Miranda was very cautious about carrying valuables onto the estate, "bugger!" Queenie said out loud then she remembered the fifty Miranda earned earlier, still tucked under the edge of her corset.

Queenie hung Miranda's grey jacket and grey skirt on a hanger, found a large plastic bag, and a smaller one for Miranda's shoes and then took them out to Miranda's small grey car where she locked them in the space behind the rear seats.

She saw her kids coming home, all in a bunch, Danny the eldest shepherding them along.

"Can you stop at Granny Fifield's tonight loves?" she said.

"Doing a special tonight mam?" asked Tania,

"Mind your own, anyway, here's fifty for her and twenty for tea."

Queenie watched the kids walk away, they often stayed with Eileen Fifield, Eileen's son Frank was Tania's dad or so Queenie told them, and it was handy for the kids to stop there when she got arrested or did a twenty eight day stretch for shoplifting or soliciting.

Two

Steve Davies watched the office clock, occasionally glancing at his watch and the clock on his computer monitor as the time crawled towards Two thirty when he had to depart for his three o'clock appointment.

He fiddled with an email to colleagues, pushed papers from in-tray to pending, and back again and generally performed his duties as a senior council manager with the practised ease of a man with no conscience, he worried as always, he had an image to maintain, he could hardly have an office affair, without word of his little problem getting around, and the humiliation of leaving the lady disappointed after a one night stand was getting him down.

Steve knew the police were monitoring the CCTV his colleagues had installed in the red light areas, indeed he had spent many happy hours viewing selected highlights with colleagues and Police colleagues so picking up a whore was not really an option, hence his Three o'clock appointment with Mrs Jarvis at number three, Alderman Lucas Drive, just off the Hinksey Road on the East Canning estate. 

Two thirty came around, Steve walked down to the staff car park, unlocked the door of his silver grey Ford using the remote control, hung his jacket on the hook beside the door pillar and drove carefully through the twenty mile per hour zone, trying not to attract attention until the Sat Nav led him unerringly the wrong way down the one way system to number three, he parked behind a small grey Ford.

Steve checked his tie in the reflection in the glass of the car door before he turned and walked up the short cracked and broken concrete pathway to the fading peeling blue painted door of Number Three, he knocked loudly, then stood back away from the door and waited, but nothing seemed to happen, he listened intently for sounds of movement but heard nothing, then his heart leaped as Queenie Jarvis answered. "Just a minute."

He heard footfalls as Queenie descended the stairs, he heard the rattle of the lock and chain as she prepared to open the front door and then he heard her again.

"Sorry Love." Queenie apologised, as she opened the door wearing a housecoat over a sensible skirt and blouse as agreed, "You're early." 

Steve stared at Queenie's ample chest and felt his erection gradually subsiding, Oueenie looked just like one of his mother's WI chums, he thought.

"I got a touch of thrush, but my girlfriend's upstairs waiting," she continued, "Bondaged, she's a bit shy."

"Yes, alright, that's fine" Steve agreed readily, relieved that he would not have to try to perform for Queenie , "Is it the same money?"

"Extra fifty quid if you don't mind." Queenie simpered, "But she's really lovely, you'll like her, our Sadie told me what you like."

Steve smiled nervously, he never used the same lady twice, but even so when he asked Sadie for suggestions he never suspected she would share their experiences with a third party, "Oh" he exclaimed quietly.

"Highly recommended," Queenie reassured him, "do you have the money?"

Steve handed the notes over, "Leave the fifty on the bedside table upstairs for Randa will you" Queenie requested, as she returned the last fifty.

"Randa? is she foreign," Steve asked, nervously.

"Miranda, short for Miranda, but you're here for love not conversation" Queenie recovered quickly and suggested, "Don't stand on the doorstep, slip your shoes off and come upstairs."

Miranda lay on the bed struggling trying to free her wrists, or to spit out the ball gag which was hurting her mouth, or to free her legs or the leash or collar around her neck, Queenie had no sooner threatened to make Miranda "do" her Three o'clock, than they heard a knock at the door and Queenie had thrown on her skirt and top and housecoat and rushed downstairs.

The sound of approaching voices then footsteps coming up the stairs spurred Miranda to even greater efforts to get free, ugly red marks appeared at her wrists where the hard metal pressed against her soft flesh as she realised it could be her last chance to struggle free but suddenly she froze with shock as the door opened revealing a man, ruggedly handsome yet shy and nervous, smartly dressed, dark haired, broad shouldered, blue eyed she knew him, not by name but she recognised the face, the tie and suit, he worked in building control, in the offices on the third floor, two floors below her own office. She froze, uncertain of what to do.

"Mmmm ugghh Mmmm" Miranda tried to shout, to plead to beg but Steve had no chance to understand.

"Lovely little actress ain't she." Queenie suggested, "What do you think."

Steve stared at Miranda as she lay across the bed, he wanted soft compliant subservience not the restrained helplessness Miranda exhibited as she lay bathed in the glow of the red lighting, a crude painted whore, tied, gagged and bound yet for all that her sex glistened with anticipation, her perfect yet small breasts were real enough yet her constrained tummy held flat by the corset and the child like hairstyle were clearly intended to deceive as she was clearly older than a child, in her twenties at least but the prospect of sex without conversation was something Steve found tremendously exciting, perhaps too exciting he worried as his penis reared and strained.

"She's just raw sex" Steve replied to Quenies earlier query.

"Best get your kit off then," Queenie suggested "I got a hanger for your jacket and trousers." Steve started to undo his trouser belt before unzipping his flies, he stepped out of his trousers before handing his jacket and trousers to Queenie to hang up.

Miranda quickly realised the predicament she was in, clearly this man was committing a serious breach of trust, a offence punishable by instant dismissal by visiting a woman in works time and was clearly not going to want to get into more trouble.

"Mmmm Mmm" Miranda moaned "Help me." but Steve was down to his underpants, his shirt and tie on the hanger Queenie had handed him, and his manhood was straining,Steve carefully eased his underpants down his hairy legs showing Miranda the full extent of his straining manhood, Queenie looked on admiringly, almost straight with only the very tip emerging from the smooth foreskin but nice and long, six inches seven perhaps, it was difficult to tell without a ruler, but nicely streamlined, easy to insert, Queenie regretted not "doing" Steve herself briefly but remembered Sadie's warning of premature release.

Steve advanced towards Miranda dressed only in his socks and vest Miranda stared at Steve's penis, perversely hoping he would want her to suck it so he would remove her gag and allow her to scream, but no he crawled up the bed and rolled the condom Queenie had handed him over his straining penis and before she could really resist his fingers were at Miranda's sex.

Steve llaced his knees between Miranda's and eased her thighs apart and she saw and felt the tip of the condom against her crotch but it was starting to slide backwards towards her tight puckered Anus.

"Wrong hole love, she hasn't had an enema today so best not," Queenie suggested "and it's a hundred extra, here let me." she took more lube and as she sat on the bed she first worked more lube into Miranda's sopping hole, before grasping Steve's penis firmly to guide it between Miranda's the soft yielding flesh of Mirands's lower lips, it slid in easily for an inch or two pink on pink, Queenie looked on approvingly, she could not really see the join, it was like they had become one, not erotic like when a black cock pistons in and out but soft and loving. 

"Nnnnnn," Miranda protested but Steve was already easing further inside her, spreading her as he thrusted. reminding her of what she had missed in recent weeks. reopening the tunnel where only dainty fingers usually played, reminding her of her femininity, making her juices churn and her heart flutter as first gently then more firmly then forcibly he thrust against her holding her shoulders to get a better purchase until finally he was fully sheathed inside her, his thick curly pubic hair raking her freshly shaven mound and tickling the area around her now exposed clit, his manly chest now so close her pert little breasts that she felt the hairs on his chest seemingly brushing her erect straining nipples. and his mouth so close to her shoulder she feared his hot breath would burn her skin.

Steve raised himself up, his chest away from her breasts until he stared down into Miranda's eyes looking but not seeing her distress or was it excitement, he wanted to kiss her scarlet lips bur the gag was there impeding him. 

Miranda felt Steve's hot peppermint scented breath on her face, it seemed bizarre to be penetrated without being kissed, her sex still felt strained, but by now her arousal was easing the discomfort although she was still aware that with her arms tied behind her, she was helpless Steve continued to pin her to the bed and thrust into her making her totally his.




Queening for a Day



There are some individuals who believe that coincidence can be explained away by logical explanations. There is a certain comfort in life when one supposes that everything can be calculated and replicated. Bret Rice lived his life that way; he was methodical and premeditated with everything he did, with how he interpreted every experience in his world. It wasn't until he found himself being challenged and pushed to beyond his limits, in a situation where he had no power over his lusts and no will of his own to assert, that he learned what it meant to be truly free in the confines of mental enslavement. 

Spring is meant to be experienced outside, enjoying the flowers and the sunshine and all the things that contribute to nature's ability to elevate hormones and arouse lust. There was something amiss, some sort of itch, a longing perhaps that was gnawing at Bret's psyche, tugging at his spirit. Feeling all the effects of the change in season, he decided that he would forego his usual lunches in the food court with co-workers and dine alfresco in solitude. He felt a need to be alone, to observe his surroundings, to meditate on life and its meaning while absorbing a little Vitamin D and fantasizing about his perversions. 

Lincoln Park provided the perfect backdrop for his midday musings. He could sit and eat his brown bag lunch and watch all the people go by. Technically, it wasn't really a brown bag, it was a white bag filled with amazing food from a little gourmet shop that made the best sandwiches and salads in town. Moreover, he wasn't really concerned with watching all the people go by, just the ones with breasts and brown skin. If warm weather had him feeling naturally horny, it was exacerbated by the fact that the change in climate made Black women come out of hibernation and start wearing more form-fitting clothing and open-toed shoes. Bret had a fascination if you will for the exquisitely manicured tootsies of Black women but that was not his primary fetish. 

Bret had a love for the shapely butts of women blessed with only what could be termed, Afrocentric behinds. He loved everything about them: the way they moved and jiggled when they walked, the way they filled out a particularly tight pair of jeans or swayed beneath a skirt, he loved big, round, sexy black asses. Discretely, he would watch as they walked by, imagining what those fabulous brown asses looked like with no clothes on, what they smelled like, and of course, what they tasted like. There was nothing not to love about his midday excursions because he could get out, sit in the sun, and get more than enough fodder for his fantasies. It was a helluva lot better than sitting around talking about boring work stuff with his colleagues. 

Being a creature of habit, Bret pretty much sat on the same bench every day. One day, feeling like he needed to stretch his legs a bit and explore other sights, he ventured out to explore more of the park. That day, he felt compelled to change his vantage point to see what else the world had to offer. As luck would have it, he stumbled upon a pavilion with chess tables set up and people standing around watching the games. 

As is usual for most public parks, there were homeless Black men stationed at each table, schooling white boys who were looking for diversions from their mundane lives on their lunch breaks as well. It seems like in every corner of the country, in every park, Black men who look like they haven't bathed in months play skilled and strategic chess games. This park was no exception save one small exemption. 

Seated at the end table was a young, Black woman with a petite frame and short, curly Afro. She didn't look like she was homeless; in fact, she looked like she could have been a college student. 

As she stood up to stretch a bit, Bret could tell that she couldn't have been more than 5'3" and if she weighed 125 pounds, 10 pounds of that has to be distributed evenly between her tits and her ass. She was wearing a tight-fitting white t-shirt with a drawing of the Statue of Liberty depicted as a Black woman with a raised fist that said, "Statue of Liberation" in bold, graphic printing. Her 32D's filled out that shirt perfectly. Her complexion was smooth, like melted chocolate and her little round button nose fit her angelic face perfectly. She had sexy, full lips that were highlighted with shiny, clear lip gloss and as she spoke, her tongue touched the bottom of her front teeth like she had a slight lisp. 

Bret wasn't close enough to hear exactly what she was saying but he was close enough to watch her play her game. She played like a master. Bret was undone. He needed to get back to work but he was transfixed to that spot, unable to move. He was studying her every move, both her chess moves and her chest moves. He made his way closer to her table but he didn't dare approach her or talk to her. It was clear she was the center of attention because women hardly ever played chess in open-air forums like this one and everyone took notice not only because of her striking beauty but also because she seemed unbeatable. 

Chess was a man's game and there were very few women whom Bret knew who were patient enough to learn the intricacies of the strategy or bother to play the game at all. When he did meet women who were skilled players, he could beat them easily but he always dragged the game out and allowed them to win so as not to look like too much of an asshole and defer to his hidden desire to practice female superiority. She looked up briefly and made eye contact with Bret and said, "Whose got next," like she was a basketball player on the court taunting and teasing her opponents to an intellectual azz whuppin. 

Bret politely mouthed the words, "No thanks," and made his way back to his office. He was fine the rest of the afternoon, distracted with projects, details, and minutia. It wasn't until he was stuck in traffic on the way home that his mind started to race. What normally should have been a 30 minute ride was taking forever and a day which led Bret to some dark and deviant ruminations. He began to fantasize about the strange woman in the park, about her peeling off her incredibly tight jeans and revealing a pair of red satin panties. 

Standing before him in nothing but those sexy panties and red, high-heeled shoes, Bret imagined that she bent over in front of him and lowered her undergarments down over the full, round asscheeks barely contained within. She wiggled and flaunted that ass in his face, teasing Bret with it. Pulling her cheeks apart, Bret dreamt that he could smell the heady aroma of her ass wafting from between those perfect, brown globes. In his fantasy, he gently placed his nose near her sacred butthole and smelled her natural scents. He was aroused and his cock was hard; he rubbed it through his pants to relieve the pressure and to add just the right amount of pleasure. Just as he was about to place his tongue to her hole in his mind, traffic started moving and he was snapped back into reality. 

The next day at work it was all he could do to wait for his lunch hour. He was preoccupied with thoughts of her and could barely concentrate on anything but visions of her ass. Finally, around 11 a.m., he could take no more and he made excuses about somewhere he had to go, something he had to do, and stole away to head to the park. Because it was earlier than the usual lunch hour, there were very few people in the park except some tourists, some preschool children's groups, and some other people who were like him and escaping work and having an early, extended lunch. 

The chess tables were all occupied but not with the lady with whom he'd taken an interest. Today, rather than it being the homeless versus the white boys, it was simply Black man versus Black man, their residence, or lack thereof, not playing any role in their game. Never before had he taken the opportunity to watch their moves so intently, to study their game and he wondered as to how someone who could master the analytical skills of chess could end up being destitute and anti-social. He wondered how a woman who looked so out of place among those men could be comfortable around them, around their smells and clearly brash and rebellious demeanors. 

"Are you going to play today?" Bret froze momentarily as he felt the presence of someone next to him, dangerously close, invading his space, practically touching his arm. Without looking, he knew it was her. Her voice was soft and melodic yet raspy and erudite at the same time. 

"No," he mumbled, "I have to get back to work," and he hurriedly left the park and spent the rest of the afternoon kicking himself for not taking her up on her offer. In any other circumstance, Bret was confident, secure, he was never one to waffle or crumble under pressure. He'd wanted to meet her, to talk to her but he choked under pressure. 

The next day, Bret kept his anxiousness in check and waited until noon to blend in with the rest of the crowd. He didn't go close this time, he watched from a distance. She was there again and he could tell she was undefeated at her tenure at her table. A few Black men, business men and workers from the neighboring office buildings, approached, played, and slinked away. She wasn't arrogant in her play but she didn't seem to use much effort either. 

White men seemed hesitant to approach her, like there was some invisible line that they knew not to cross, or dared not cross lest people see their hidden thoughts, their secret desires, their blatant yearning for her. Bret was to be counted among that population. He was content to watch from afar and observe. Every day, his thoughts of her consumed more and more time. His daily commute to and from work, his time at work and school were compromised by his fantasies. At home alone, he masturbated to thoughts of her and when he was with his girlfriend Amanda, he was thinking of the mysterious woman as well. 

For five days straight, it seemed that Bret was in a constant state of arousal from someone to whom he'd never even spoken. Everyone in the office was getting a little nosey, asking where he was rushing off to for lunch every day, implying that he had a secret life, that he was having an affair, just being generally obnoxious. He was afraid someone might follow him so he had taken to using different routes to the park and stopping off at different locations first. His paranoia was unjustified but he was so used to his life being compartmentalized, so fragmented that he compensated by being slightly neurotic. If anyone ever found out that he was aroused by a woman's butts, by fantasies of being smothered by them, he would die a thousand deaths. In his heart, he just knew that he was the only one among his peers who had dark thoughts and fantasies like that. 

At lunch, he made his way to the park but he chickened out at the last minute, opting just to watch her play. She saw him watching her and she stared back, letting him know that she was aware of his attraction to her. He went back to the office feeling like a fool and later told everyone that had to leave about an hour early. He made his way back to the park, practically running, hoping against hope that she would still be there. As luck would have it, she was, casually talking and laughing with her homeless crew, talking like they were her peers. Gathering his nerve, he made his way to her table and sat down. "Finally," she said, "what took you so long?" 

Uncomfortable with small talk, Bret gave her a half-hearted smile and ignored her comment. "Black or white," he mumbled. 

Laughing, she said, "Honey, I'm always Black." 

Their game lasted almost an hour but he'd seen her win in four moves with other novice players. It was a good thing that the game wasn't timed because Bret had met his match and he was making him nervous, he made a few careless mistakes out of sheer anxiety. Eventually, she was victorious again; remaining undefeated in all the games he had witnessed her play. He felt drained yet satisfied in a way he'd never felt before. Here was this petite woman, clearly more than just his equal, it was more than evident she was his superior. His intellectual libido was stimulated beyond belief. Throughout the game she didn't say a word, she concentrated. She watched him, studied his moves. Bret was off his normal game but he knew that even at his best she still had the skills to beat him. Of course it didn't help that he was intellectually stimulated which made him partially erect. 

Pushing his chair back from the table, Bret extended his hand and said, "Great game, thanks so much." He'd wanted her to win but he never imagined that she could do it without him throwing the game. Her skill set exceeded his which said a lot. Her victory was real and he felt defeated but wildly alive for the first time in a long time as strange as that may sound. 

She reached out and shook his hand and replied, "Come on, let's go."

She grabbed her backpack and tossed it to him. He clutched it close as he followed her, running to catch up when he realized exactly what her invitation was; watching her butt with every step that she took, hypnotized by her unspoken power over him. They walked to a bus stop and Bret intervened, "I have a car," but she ignored him. They sat down and she turned to him and formally introduced herself. 

"I'm Shauntay, I was wondering when you were going to get up the nerve to come talk to me. You really played a great game. You had me in check that one time and I was thinking that you might end my reign as Queen of the park. What's your name?"

In a million years, Bret never would have imagined a woman named Shauntay would be able to beat him at chess. To him, Shauntay was a ghetto name and people from the ghetto . . . well, it didn't even have to be said. There was nothing ghetto about this woman and as he repeated her name over and over in his head, it began to sound lyrical, beautiful, not at all ghetto. Realizing he hadn't answered her question, he blurted out, "I'm Ted," always thinking of protecting his identity, never wanting anyone to get to know the real him. 

Thinking it over, realizing that he might just be in the presence of the woman who could take him places he'd never been, he said, "I'm sorry, I lied. My name is Bret." Still not quite sure he was up to the witty repartee stage of conversation just yet; he remained silent, waiting for her reprimand. None came but the bus did and they got on. He didn't know where they were going, what they were doing; he just knew that he would do just about anything she asked of him. She was brazen, well, not so much brazen as she was bold. Shauntay caressed his body, felt for muscles, caressed his leg and openly stared at the erection she was causing him. The blood boiled in his veins as other passengers watched this open display of groping and Bret was helpless to do anything about it. He loved it and secretly wished she would go even further. 

Shauntay kept asking more and more questions, eventually bringing Bret out of his shell as they rode. Every once in a while, she would lean close and whisper sweetly in his ear and send chills up and down Bret's spine. She was equally as forthcoming, sharing details about her life. It turned out that she was 33, which he would have never guessed because she looked almost a decade younger than that. She was getting her Ph.D in Physics which intrigued Bret that much more. 

As the got off the bus, Bret was in another world. This was out of his comfort zone; this couldn't be explained by any reasonable construct. He was following a total stranger to God only knows where to do God only knows what. No one knew where he was, he hadn't explained his absence to anyone. His heart was pounding. Bret was terrified that she was going to do something crazy or unhinged but he clearly outweighed her and towered over her. He kept wondering why she wasn't afraid that he was a psycho killer, why she wasn't paranoid that he was going to do something unstable or psychotic to her. She didn't even have a cautious look in her eye. In fact, she seemed to be the one that was comforting Bret. 

They reached her apartment, and still carrying her backpack, Bret blindly followed her up the stairs of a two story walk-up to her apartment. She intentionally stopped short and Bret ended up face first in the seat of her pants. He froze there, inhaling her scent openly, hoping to detect the stench of her asshole. Shauntay wiggled her ass in his face, giggled, and opened the door to her home and invited him in. 

It was exactly as Bret had envisioned in his mind, it matched who he thought she was. It was small, so tidy it would make any obsessive-compulsive jealous, and obviously occupied by an academic and an intellectual. Shauntay excused herself and left Bret alone as he scoped the scene. There was no TV in the living room and the bookshelves were lined with books about Black History, chemistry, art, travel, alternative medicine, and of course, physics. Her music collection didn't have any artists Bret recognized and the décor was simple and contemporary but accented with pieces that looked like they might have been inherited from an older family member. "What are you writing your dissertation on, uhmmm, if you don't mind me asking," he yelled in the direction of the bedroom as he tried to gain further insight into her without getting caught while she changed her clothes. 

"The Instantaneous Quantum Teleportation of Information Across the Time and Space Continuum as it Relates to Members of the African Diaspora." She waited for the pause of dumbfounded silence that followed every time she told someone her topic, and sure enough, like clockwork, 8 . . . 9 . . . 10, he responded, "How did you master the art of playing chess? And those guys . . . you seem . . . so . . . you know . . . comfortable with them . . . how . . ." She didn't answer. 

It all seemed too coincidental. She was like a dream come true for him. Most of what he knew of her concretely was learned in the last 45 minutes. For a week, he'd fantasized about her, speculated, surmised but she was turning out to be more than he'd even allowed himself to contemplate. Beauty, brains, the ability to control him with subtlety, and an ass that made his mouth water. His mind couldn't even makes sense of the fact that he was in this strange apartment, waiting rather impatiently for a women he didn't know, for exactly what, he wasn't sure. 

Emerging from her bedroom dressed in tight, leather, black pants, a corset that looked like she might have had two or three people in her bedroom helping her tie it so tightly, high-heeled, black patent leather boots that came up past her knees, and a look on her face that inspired sheer terror in Bret. Shauntay was carrying a riding crop in one hand and stood perfectly still so Bret could take in her image. His jaw dropped. She looked like a rare Ebony centerfold straight out of Obeah magazine (without the staples). 

He jumped up and reacted almost violently. "Hey, look, I don't know who you think I am . . . or what you think I'm into, but you don't know me. I'm not . . . I don't want . . . Don't you dare presume that I'm . . . that this is something . . . that you can . . . you have assumed too damn much." He was flustered because he was undone by her complete ability to read him. He felt trapped and angry but he wasn't exactly sure why. All he knew was that his chest felt tight, his knees felt weak, his mouth was dry, he'd lost the ability form complete sentences and he was wildly aroused, more than he'd ever been in his life. He was out of his element and in a strange environment. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Look, I appreciate your hospitality and thanks for the great match but I think I better be going." 

"OK."




Queening for a Day



She didn't say another word, she didn't make a move. She motioned her eyes toward the front door and remained stoic. Bret looked like a deer caught in headlights. He didn't want to go; in fact, he wanted desperately to stay, throw himself at her feet, beg for her forgiveness, and be subjected to her cruel punishments. He wanted her to give him an ultimatum, to say something that would give him the chance to stay. She walked to the door, opened it, and stood aside. 

"I . . . uhmmm," he mumbled as he walked past her, too prideful to ask to say, feeling like an idiot for totally fucking up, "Great match. Thanks." 

He hailed a cab to take him back to his car and relived every second of the past week in his mind over and over again on his way home. All weekend, he was withdrawn and quiet. He made excuses to his friends why he couldn't hang out and sex with Amanda was nothing more than perfunctory. Every time he closed his eyes, however, he would see Shauntay. He couldn't sleep at night and Monday morning couldn't come soon enough. He watched the clock all morning long and made a beeline for the park. Of course, she wasn't there, and subconsciously, he knew she wouldn't be. He asked one of the homeless men if he'd seen her and waited around for almost two hours before going back to work. All week long he went to the park; all week long, she wasn't there. He was beginning to get depressed, angry at himself for not throwing caution to the wind and taking a chance. She intimidated him and that wasn't a sensation he had ever truly experienced before. 

Bret began to fill his time at the park by playing the men there, talking to them, befriending them, observing their chess skills and speculating how they seemed to possess such amazing analytical skills but couldn't get a job. He saw the casual glances from white passersby who belied their true feelings of disgust when he would share his food with them. Over the course of several weeks, he tried to convince himself that he was no longer going there to look for Shauntay but to engage in great chess with worthy competitors. The truth was, he couldn't imagine the day that he would stop looking for her, she'd made a huge impact on him and he was convinced he wasn't going to be the same ever again. 

Deeply engrossed in a great game, he felt the breath of her words as she whispered in his ear, "Have you missed me?' 

Bret's heart skipped a beat; the palms of his hands broke out in an immediate sweat. It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to fall to his knees and show his devotion to her. He wanted to forfeit the game but it wasn't in his nature, and somehow, he knew that Shauntay would be displeased. He continued playing, glancing around, looking for her but she had faded into the masses. He knew she was there, watching him, he could feel her intense presence. Just as with his first game with her, he was nervous, making stupid mistakes. He lost. He lost fair and square. He scanned the crowd and saw her sitting on a bench about 50 yards away. He approached cautiously and sat down, waiting for her to say something. She didn't utter a sound.

"You were right. About . . . you know . . . you were right. How did you know," he queried, "about . . . me, about . . . you know. How did you know that I would like that sort of thing?"

She moved closer, pressing her leg against his. "I read you." The puzzled look on his face indicated that he needed a more in-depth explanation. "Your game, the reverence you have for your queen, the way you protect her, it speaks volumes about you. I can tell all sorts of things from the way you play. You want people to see you as extraordinarily intelligent, but deep inside, you not only feel average, but there's a part of you that feels unworthy, contemptible even. You are inherently submissive and you are drawn to that part of me that is inherently dominant."

"There's no way you can tell all that about me from watching me play chess," he said indignantly. 

"Oh, really? Am I wrong?"

It was Bret's time to remain silent now. He sat staring at the ground. Every time he would look up, she would be staring at him. There was communication in the silence. So many things were unsaid, unarticulated. None of that seemed to matter. Finally, he said, "So, what now?" 

"Well, that would depend on what you want." Shauntay was a bit more aloof than Bret would have liked. He wanted her to show interest in him, he wanted her to see him as different, to WANT to dominate him. She stood up, dropped her backpack in his lap, and leaned in close, her lips close to his, like she was about to kiss him. "I'll see you later." With that, she walked away, Bret's eyes transfixed to her ass as she disappeared into the sunshine, gripping her bag like it sustained his life. 

That day after work, Bret took out his phone, called Amanda saying that he had to go out of town for the weekend for work, which was not at all unusual for him, and he drove to Shauntay's apartment, backpack in tow. He stood outside her building, terrified to go up but driven to cross the threshold into a new adventure. He knocked, nervous and afraid.

"One moment, please." He heard her movements behind the closed door.

Bret waited what seemed like an eternity. Finally she opened the door completely and stood before him and he literally gasped for air. Shauntay was dressed, or barely dressed rather, in a bright turquoise lace bra that was doing a lousy job of containing her overflowing breast flesh. Her matching garter belt sat atop her hips and the colorful straps went down her slender ebony legs and held her black, silk, lace-topped stockings in place. Her small feet were encased in high-heeled black, patent leather pumps, tasteful and sexy. The most striking feature of her outfit was the chocolate brown strapon protruding from her body. At first glance, it appeared to be about 8 inches long and at least as wide as his wrist. She stood there calmly, stroking it, taunting Bret. He glanced nervously up and down the hallway, terrified that someone would see her, terrified that someone would see him standing there, practically salivating. 

"Welcome," she said, "I've been expecting you."

Bret wanted to say something to let her know that she wasn't the one pulling the strings, that he was still in control of his actions, that he understood the dynamics of what was happening, no words would come out. Her comfort level with being so open, standing where anyone who opened their door or came up the steps could see them, threw off his equilibrium. He wasn't in control; she was controlling the game. He was a pawn and she a dynamic Black Queen Bitch. He wanted to appear aloof but if she had commanded that he drop to his knees right there in the hallway and suck that dick, he would have done it without hesitation. 

"Come in." 

Bret stepped forward but she didn't move to the side. He had to squeeze past her; his body brushing up against hers, the strapon wedged tightly between their bodies as he made his way inside. The room was lit with candles around the perimeter and the furniture had been moved out of the center, creating a void, a playroom essentially. 

"Undress!" Her command was so simple and to the point it needed no further instruction. 

Bret removed his shoes and socks, placed them neatly under a chair in the corner. He removed his shirt and then t-shirt, and took his took belt off completely, stalling. He took off his watch and placed it in his shoes and hesitated for a second before he unzipped his pants. She was staring at him, inspecting, him, objectifying him like a piece of meat, inspecting him like a slave on the auction block. He lowered his pants and folded them neatly, maintaining the creases. He slid his hand in his underwear and squeezed his cock before he slid them down his legs and stepped out of them and placed them neatly on the pile of clothing. 

Shauntay ran her soft hands over his body, caressing him, twisting his nipples causing him to stifle a small moan, rolling his balls between her fingers. She stroked his cock, making him leak precum and turned him around and ran her fingertips gently over his butt. She spread his asscheeks and softly rubbed the tight rosebud of his asshole. This time, Bret couldn't stifle his moans and bent over to give her more access, to show off his slutty nature. He wanted her finger; he wanted to be penetrated. That was not to be her next move. 

She grabbed his cock roughly and pulled him to the center of the living room. She made him stand there as she circled him, stroking his cock to full erection and then rubbing her strapon against it. "You like that big, black, dick, don't you?" Bret nodded. "Answer me; let me hear you say it." Bret mumbled in the affirmative but that was the best he could do. He felt like he was high. Shauntay pulled her breasts from the top of her bra, exposing her erect, dark, chocolate nipples. She rubbed them on his torso and he knew better than to reach out and touch them, to drop to his knees and suck them like he longed to do. She rubbed them sensually and then wet her finger and traced her areola. She cupped his balls and squeezed them hard, making Bret cry out in pain and his knees buckle. "I told you to ANSWER ME!" 

Bret's breathing was erratic. She placed her hand on his shoulder and pressed gently, signaling that he was to kneel. He was eye level with her fake dick and she rubbed it over his lips. "Mmmmm, yes, I like that black cock." 

"Now, Bret, is that any way to show your appreciation? Now, tell me how much you love that dick, tell me how much you crave it." 

Inspired to impress, Bret turned up the intensity. "I love that big, black cock. I want to suck you off, I want you to ram it in my throat, make me gag on it. Make me worship it, make me worship you." He began blowing that strapon like a cheap whore. He made love to it with his mouth, licking, sucking, and swallowing it. There was no denying he was enjoying himself as he moaned and drooled all over it. He threw himself into his act, gagging and stroking it. He reached around and placed his hands on her ass, filling his hands with her soft flesh. That propelled him deeper into true sub space and he went even wilder on her strapon. "Yeah, I'm a cock-sucking slut. Give me that hard Black meat. Fuck my face. Mmmmm, yeah, I love your cock." All of his inhibitions were gone. Bret was behaving like he'd always wanted; he was free, free from restrictions, free from societal constraints. 

"Bret? Sweetie? Did I tell you that you could suck my dick?" She pushed him to the floor harshly but it wasn't a deterrent to Bret, it was inspiration. 

Making himself prone at her feet, Bret begged for her forgiveness. He placed his lips on her stilettos and kissed them. He ran his tongue over the smooth patent leather and pleaded. "Please, forgive me. I'm so sorry. I was so overwhelmed with your beauty, your brilliance, your sheer power." Shauntay removed her shoe, kicking it to the side of the room, and waved her foot in Bret's face. She placed it gently on his lips and he inhaled deeply the aroma, the slightly musky, familiar scent of a sweaty foot that had been encased in leather. It was more intoxicating than poppers for him and infinitely more arousing. He wanted nothing more than to run his tongue over that foot. Her toenails were painted a brilliant turquoise to match her lingerie but remained clearly visible through the reinforced toe of her silk stockings. He licked her sole and then placed her entire foot in his mouth, as much as he could swallow. He worshiped her foot, praising it, praying to it.

She kicked him hard in the side, sending him to the floor, curled in the fetal position. Removing her other shoe, she circled him like a lioness circling her prey, the queen of the jungle stalking, surveying, ready to psychologically devour her helpless victim. Bret's heart was racing and his breathing was labored. She rubbed her stockinged foot over his cock and balls. The threat hung heavy in the air but remained unspoken that at any moment she could kick him in the nuts and make him scream out in agony. Bret waited for what he was sure to come. 

To her credit, Shauntay prepared him for the evening of erotic torture. "I own you now, you understand that, don't you, Bret? You are mine to play with, tease and torture, to destroy in any way I see fit. Your screams will be my music; your pleas for my benevolence will amuse and entertain me. I will use your body for anything I see fit and you'll beg for more. I'll allow you to be the filthy, disgusting, lower-than-human scum that you long to be, that you've been craving, needing to release inside you. The need grows stronger each and every year, to be more perverse, to submit to a mistress so cruel, so diabolical that your mind reels with the creativity with which she degrades you. I'm that mistress, Bret. I'm the woman who will turn you into a pain pig, who will make you crave dicks, real dicks; big, hard, black dicks shoved in your tight, white pussy." 

Bret rolled his eyes in arrogant disbelief. "Oh, you don't believe me, Bret? You don't think I can control your will, your desires?" Her voice was soft, not annoyed or irritated and it was hypnotic, soothing, arousing. "Well, I'll let you have that today. We are new, you and I; we haven't worked out the dynamics of our relationship yet. You don't know me nearly as well as I know you. When you get to know me, when you understand how mentally sadistic I can really be, you won't disrespect me by rolling your eyes at me. She continued, calmly this time, with her riding crop firmly in her hand. Shauntay gently tapped the tip of it against Bret's throbbing, leaking erection.

"Turn over, on your knees." Bret complied swiftly. Head down against the cool plastic, he stuck his ass in the air, proud to show off his slutty nature. Shauntay rubbed the crop against his nut sack, up the crack of his ass. "Bret, would you be shocked if I told you that I am going to shove ice cubes in your ass and watch you writhe in pain while you're bent over like this?" She spread the cheeks of his ass and rubbed her finger gently over his exposed asshole. Bret wasn't moved. He wasn't truly a masochist so the thought of pain didn't really scare him. "Well," she persisted, "a little cold should be countered with a little heat. You see, I have this chili paste that I'm going to apply to your cock and balls while those ice cubes are melting in your ass and you feel the burning, searing heat up and down the shaft of your cock." 

Bret squirmed more. He was intrigued by the sheer novel ingenuity of this powerful woman. He wanted to belong to her; he wanted to be inflicted to her cruel punishments. He was leaking precum as she continued to circle him, to tease him with her feet, rubbing them on his face, across his chest, jerking him off with her feet. She caressed his body with her riding crop, her preferred instrument of punishment for the evening. "Imagine that Bret. Ice cubes shoved in your asscunt, excruciating heat spreading over your cock and balls. I'm going to fuck you senseless, like the little bitch you are. You understand? Is that what you want Bret? Is that the sort of torture you want to endure for me? Your pathetic cock virtually ablaze, your intestines cramping in pain, and getting fucked with my beautiful strapon?" 

Bret was moaning uncontrollably now. He was thrusting his ass in the air, desperate to be invaded by more than her fingers, silently shedding tears in fear of what he was becoming, what he was allowing happen to him. "Oh, God, yessssss, I want that. I want you to fuck me, use me, and punish me any way you see fit." 

THWAPPP! The first blow of her riding crop came down on his balls without mercy and he cried out, scrambling away from the blinding pain. 

"Come back here bitch; get your ass up here." 

Bret assumed the position again. This time, he felt the slippery head of her lubricated strapon rubbing sensually up and down his ass crack. Bret forgot all about the pain in his testicles and he started humping back against that strapon, trying to get the head of it positioned so that she could take him; so she could enter him, make him her ass slut. The head of that black dick felt amazing on his hole, in his soul. Bret's mind spun with new sensations. He wanted to get fucked, to become an animal. Shauntay gripped his hips and pushed. The head of the strapon pierced his tight anal ring and Bret moaned out in pleasure and in pain. Her ownership of him was complete. There was no way he was going to let her out of his life. In that moment, he knew he would suck any dick, swallow as many loads of cum as she demanded. He heard himself chanting, "Fuck me, fuck me, ram that black fucker deep in me, make me your bitch, make me your white sissy faggot. FUCK ME. USE ME! OWN ME! Please, I beg of you. I'm begging you Mistress." He was crying uncontrollably, openly now. She was gently fucking his ass, sending outrageously pleasurable sensations throughout his pussy, and savagely fucking his mind, torturing him mentally; the pleasure and the pain melding into one 

The transformation was complete. Shauntay knew it. Hence forth and forever more, Bret would crave her. She was the one who knew his desires and would risk his relationships, his job; he would offer his life to be the object of her sadistic ministrations. "On your knees, bitch. NOW!" 

Bret scrambled to a kneeling position, his eyes diverted to the floor. Shauntay turned around and put her ass inches from his face. Startled, he looked up, enchanted by the magnificent brown globes of flesh before him. Reaching back, she spread her asscheeks and made her asshole wink at him. He swallowed hard and grabbed his dick and stroked it as he put his nose closer. Without warning, she farted directly in his face, the noxious, rank fumes overwhelming him as he moaned out and stroked his cock that much harder. He inhaled deeply, the gas ambrosia to his senses. 

"Lie down on the floor." She pointed and he followed her command. She slid the strapon down her legs and knelt over his face. She rubbed her pussy lips, spreading them, showing Bret her inner, pink flesh. His mouth watered. He wanted to taste her wet cunt, to feel her cum all over him, flooding his mouth with her thick juices. Her pussy was just inches from his face and it took every ounce of strength not to grab her hips and pull her body to his mouth. Shauntay grabbed his cock and gently stroked it as she taunted him. He was out of his mind. Her soft hands felt incredible sliding up and down his hard shaft, eliciting moans of pleasure from deep within his core. She lowered her pussy to his mouth and he tasted her sweetness for the first time. 

It was beyond anything he'd ever imagined, better than any pussy he'd ever eaten before. Her juices were slippery and sweet, her lips were thick, and her clit was hard and felt like a small cock in his mouth. She rode his face and rode him hard. She took no consideration for his comfort or his safety; making herself cum and reveling in the fact that his life was in her hands. Putting her entire body weight on him, controlling his light and his air, forcing him to use his tongue to lick anywhere and everywhere she wanted. Shauntay used her big, round ass as a weapon. 

She sat back and gave him access to her entire lower region. The smell of pussy and ass together was overwhelming. Bret drove his tongue deep inside her, trying to fuck her asshole better than any cock could. She sat squarely on his face as she stroked his cock. Shauntay was a true Ebony Queen, sitting on her throne, and Bret was thrashing around, gasping for air and ready to cum at any second. She held still and Bret could feel the heat rising up his body; the lack of oxygen to his lungs triggering his fight or flight response. Just as she felt his body go limp, she lifted her ass off his face, flooding his with light and air, Bret gasping and coughing but begging for more. He wanted the warmth and the sensation of her full weight on his face again, he craved it. 




Queening for a Day



Shauntay began bouncing up and down, one the verge of orgasm. She began to slap and twist Bret's balls cruelly, pulling them to administer pain, or was it pleasure? Determined, he refused to stop until he could taste Shauntay's cum pouring down his throat. Her legs covered his ears, he could barely hear her moans but he knew that she was about to cum. He sensed the muscles in her legs tighten up and she was more aggressive with her gyrations, bouncing up and down harder. For a moment, he thought he was going to be crushed. The only thing that kept him alive was the fact that she was stroking his cock, twisting it, slapping it, masturbating him cruelly. He couldn't breathe; he was feeling faint. The pleasure was indescribable and she was riding him hard, cumming even harder. He could feel her nails digging into his flesh and she exploded in his mouth, causing Bret's body to explode in orgasm like he'd never known before. 

He woke up the next morning, in her bed, spooning Shauntay's beautiful body. "Good morning sleepy head." She kissed his forehead as he struggled to put the pieces together after his last memory of near suffocation. He jumped up in bed and slid out of the sheets to the floor. He didn't deserve to be so close to her, he didn't deserve to be treated like a man. Shauntay held out her hand and, without words, invited him back to her bed. Sensing his fears, reading his mind, she said, "Antoine de Saint- Exupery said, 'You become responsible forever for what you've tamed.' I would say that I've tamed you so . . ." 

"But," Bret interrupted, "I uhmmm, I don't want to be, you know, like this, I want it to be like last night. I want to be that thing I was last night." 

"Relax, sweetie," Shauntay comforted him. "I am your owner; I will control, use, abuse, and discard you at my whim." The word discard rang in Bret's ears more than any other. He didn't want to be thrown away like a piece of trash; he wanted to sacrifice for her, to give her the ultimate sacrifice. He wanted to surrender all that he was, all that he could ever be to her. Tears filled his eyes as his mind raced. Shauntay pushed his head between her legs. 

"Bret, you have work to do. Now get down there and eat my pussy." Bret threw the covers back and dove between her legs, seeing her gorgeous cunt in the light of day took his breath away again. He hoped, no, he prayed, that this would be the beginning of a life of servitude and extremes beyond anything he'd ever allowed himself to contemplate, beyond any reasonable, logical explanation for how he was willing to redefine his entire existence as something inanimate and perverse.



Queening Stool



The smell of the leather was the second best sensation of the evening, although I must admit that the feel of the handcuffs securing me in the device gave me a wicked thrill as well. It is known as a "queening stool" and its sole function is to keep a submissive's face (mine) in place long enough for the beautiful dominant woman to enjoy the sensation of my tongue and face against the space between her legs. I stay put until she has had her way with me and then until she feels like letting me go.

The stool is built out of stainless steel and has four legs which are connected on top in a square, but with one side missing. The tops are padded and covered in leather to provide a comfortable place her to sit. Underneath each of those three leather covered connectors is a chain, each of which are also attached to a triangular piece of leather – against which the back of my head was resting.

This toy gives her the choice of mounting my face either facing my body or facing away from it. If she faces my body, I am treated to a view of her butt which I am sometimes given to orally service. If she faces away from my body, I can look up at her (sometimes) nude figure and admire her all the way up to her face while I am tonguing her clit. Either way, I'm a winner, but variety is the spice of life. 

This, of course, assumes that she is allowing me the pleasure of seeing her. Sometimes she prefers that I simply concentrate on my job without distraction and am forced to wear a blindfold, but I usually get to look. There are days though when all that I know is her smell and taste as she slides across and humps my face.

On that evening, I lay there, naked of course, while I waited for her to begin using me. She had me for as long as she wanted me, once the cuffs were on she was in control. Part of that control meant waiting. Of course, this was not just to make me uncomfortable but to allow her the pleasure of anticipation. In the meantime, all I could do was stare at the ceiling, what she did in the interim, I don't know.

Then she was standing over me, straddling my body at first and then running a bare foot across my chest. I looked up at her and saw her naked form. She was beautiful, every curve just right, and she was going to use me for her pleasure.

Sometimes, I need to lick her for awhile in order to get her going. Other times, like that evening, she was already wet. If she hadn't been wet, I would have started slowly, using my limited range of motion to lick her inner thighs and moving in towards the "lower lips." Too much too soon is never fun.

I said that the smell of the leather was the second best sensation. The first, for me at least, was that moment just before she lowered her body (facing my body, incidentally) onto my face. That was the moment at which I could see all of her and a thought went through my mind that went something like this, "She is going to use you and there's nothing you can do about it, even if you wanted to." Not that I would want to, but then, that is part of the point. I had no more control over the situation than any other sex toy she might possess.

She sat down gently. My cheek bones and eyes were up against her butt cheeks and my nose was positioned just inside her crack. I could feel her pubic hair gently and wetly sliding across my jaw. Drips of her essence wetted my lips and I was, once again, taken aback by the overwhelming smell of womanliness. She finished settling down and the rocked side to side, shaking my head with her body, as a signal for me to begin.

I opened my mouth and my sense of taste confirmed what my sense of smell had already experienced. Her juices began dripping from her into me before I could get my tongue out. The slickness of the feeling and the taste made me nearly instantly hard. She could see this, of course, but this only confirmed for her that I was happy to be beneath her and in no way was a request that she do anything about it. There were times when she would sometimes give my cock a playful pat after I had done an extraordinarily good job, but this time was about her pleasure, not mine.

I extended my tongue and licked my way around the outside of the outer lips. It was a slow, soft journey at first. Although I could not see, I did my best to avoid her clit in the beginning. Even when she was already aroused, I didn't want to do too much too quickly. I used my tongue like a wet, gentle point to caress her folds.

After a little while, I flattened my tongue and touched as much of her as I could with it, moving it back easily. Over and over again I did this, just nudging her clit and perhaps teasing her with the possibility of my tongue going up inside her. This is when she began to rock back and forth on me.

We fell into a rhythmic caress of the tongue. Both of our movements resulted in her pleasure. The intensity built. Now when she rocked forward my tongue was all the way on her perineum. When she leaned back, I was clearly making contact with her clit and my nose was slammed solidly into her ass. This went on for a while until she was ready for something different.

When she was, she bore down on my face so that I could get as much tongue into her as possible. Her wetness almost poured out of her, ran down my tongue, and back to my throat. I gasped and tongued as best I could. I could hear that she had changed over from heavy breathing to moaning. It was difficult to focus then as I wanted to imagine what she looked like. I didn't know if she was still watching my naked form or if she was closing her eyes. What I did know, however, was that things were beginning to really heat up.

This was true in a literal sense. It was getting really hot down there! Her backside and my face were rubbing against each other with greater ease because both were sweating. She was pressed so closely to me that I didn't dare open my eyes. I desperately wanted to reach up and rub her with my hands, but the handcuffs ensured that I was only going to get to use my tongue and face.

I used what little power I had in my jaw to propel my tongue into her as deeply as I could. It certainly wasn't a cock, but she seemed to like it. She kept the pressure on for what seemed to be a long time. I would occasionally gasp for breath and even less occasionally get one. She was passed the point of caring though, she wanted my tongue inside her and she pressed down with even harder force to make the point.

Now the noises from above had morphed from moaning into gasps and then little (and not so little) screams. She had no inhibitions about letting me (and people in the next county) know what she was feeling. She bore down with a ruthlessly as she achieved – or as I like to think of it, I achieved – her first orgasm. A small gush of her fluids nearly choked me when she did so. By this point, I don't think there was a dry point left on my face.

She allowed for an ever so short break once she had cum. I took a few very deep breaths and became aware of the pounding pulse inside my head and the hardness of my cock. I loved being able to do this for her!

The break, however, was short, only a few seconds and she settled back down, this time gently nudging my mouth with her clit. She spoke words for the first time, "Suck it."

Grateful for the chance to rest my tongue, I enveloped her nub with my lips. She had leaned forward so that I could do this easily, but it also allowed me to open my eyes for the first time in... well, I had sort of lost track of time at that point. The sting of sweat, hers or mine I don't know, and the glorious view of her backside made for a wonderous moment.

While I like to think of myself as being a "tit man," in that moment, I couldn't think of anything more wonderful than the combination of her taste and the sight I was seeing. If I had died then, well. it probably would have been a bit weird for her, but I would've gone out happy.

Again though, my happiness was secondary and my lips had a job to perform. I alternated between kissing and sucking. Sometimes, when I sucked her, I would use my still recovering tongue to massage her nub. When I did this I was rewarded with more good sounds from above, so I kept it up. It was not long before she was shaking and crying out again.

This time, in response to her orgasm, rather than taking a break she bore down again, this time rubbing indiscriminately, using my whole face as a sex toy. She took over the work and while I would throw in an occasional kiss or lick, she was rubbing with a reckless abandon so I couldn't know whether they made any difference.

One orgasm mounted into what sounded like another and possibly (for those keeping count) a fourth. The wetness between her legs was so great now that she was practically sloshing back and forth on me. My nose was being bent in ways that I wasn't aware that it could go, but although stretched, the level of discomfort was nothing compared to the feeling of happiness that I experienced in being used.

Suddenly she fell forward and landed on me. Caught off guard, she initially took the wind out of me, but I'm pretty sure I had just done that to her, so turn about was fair play. She splayed herself out on top of me with her back to me and rested her head against my legs. That my cock was being squished seemed like an insignificant detail in light of the joy of seeing her heaving while trying to regain coherent thought. After a few minutes of satisfaction, I was already looking forward to servicing her again.



Queen Jezebel Women's Prison Intl.



There exists a number of international corporate (private) prisons that were built and are owned by a bio-tech company for the incarceration of big breasted women; or small breasted women who were forced to have large bra cup sizes via surgery once they were committed to one of the penitentiaries within the organized corporate prison system. 

Queen Jezebel Women's Correctional Institute International is a privately owned and operated prison system that has female penitentiaries throughout the continent. The facility was named after the 9th century Phoenician princess who later became a queen. Women, all are big breasted or were surgically enhanced once they were committed, are between the young age of 19 and mature age of 69. They are serving their sentences at either of the global penitentiaries. They are basically slaves of hard labor and are sexual play toys for the powers that be. They are used escorts. At all of the prisons, practices such as bondage, brain washing and possible torture are involved at these prisons.

The private prison system is owned and operated by the O. B. Bio-tech Corporation and a global and multicultural secret society of women with all natural and enhanced breasts. Both groups are working together for one common cause: Increasing the breast size of every woman on the planet and making a powerful world order of big breasted women to control the planet; to control the breast implant industry. It is a corporation that manufactures breasts implant devices(i. e. saline, silicone, etc.) and other body implants as well(i. e. buttocks implants) and other life saving devices. The number one business is breasts implants. The corporation, whose main headquarters are in Nairobi, Kenya, have satellite headquarters in Malibu, California, Copenhagen, Denmark, Paris, France, Accra, Ghana and the Republic of the Philippines.

Queen Jezebel Women's Correctional Institute-International have prison locations in: Mombasa, Kenya(Main Facility outside of city), Accra, Ghana(2nd flag ship facility) Penitentiary(Outside of City), Uganda, Tanzania, Burundi, Mozambique, Jamaica, Brazil, The Philippines and Denmark. Also, it had just finished construction on a new facility in the California desert and in Scotland. The corporations received private funding from the governments that allows them to build their prisons; as well as other private groups world wide. Funding are in the billions of dollars.

(The focus is on the main facility outside of Mombasa, Kenya. However,This is the same at ALL of the corporate prison facilities.)

The facility houses women who were incarcerated for crimes such as murder, prostitution, illegal entry and all other violations of the laws of that government. Some are even imprisoned for false charges just to have the woman imprisoned for breast experimental purposes. With the exceptions of male government officials of the host government and male dignitaries that are authorized:

NO MEN ARE ALLOWED!

Processing: After arrest, the women are taken to the detention facility, which is the first step. The detention facility is a maximum security triple fenced building with layers of barbed wire and is located in the heart of Mombasa; which is where the new inmates are preprocessed before they are transferred to the main prison. Both private security guards and female Kenyan soldiers guard the facility.

The new inmates are forced to strip out of their clothing by the guards and soldiers in search of weapons; from head to toe. Once they are completely naked, they are forced to open their mouths, their anal cavities are searched; as well as the rest of their body areas. Then, the guards and soldiers confiscate all bras, shoes and socks that are worn. The inmates are taunted, fondled, sexually rubbed on and slapped around by the soldiers and guards.

Then, the new inmates are allowed to put their clothes back on. As a prison rule, they are to wear no bras because bras are contra bands and are not allowed to be worn in any of the prisons; not by any of the inmates; and staff personnel(including the security team and the warden) are not allowed to wear bras. Breasts must be shown at all times. The shirts of the inmates are kept unbuttoned and wide open to expose their tits; even if they are boarding the bus while the public is watching. They are also barefooted for the remainder of the time that they are incarcerated.

Each and every female inmate are shackled at the wrists with metal wrist restraints and waists chains. The ankles are also secured with metal leg irons. They are now ready to be boarded onto the dark green camouflage buses; which are owned by the company. 

Prior to boarding the buses, the big bra cup sized women are separated from the smaller bra-cup sized women; one group on one bus; the other group on a separate bus. Once the inmates board the buses, they are seated on the buses. Their ankle chains are locked onto a locking device under the seats. The soldiers and guards,with a bottle of liquid sanitizers in hand, wipes down the breasts of each woman.

Then afterwards, another guard or soldier pulls a long garden hose that is attached to one of the faucets on the building wall, and spray the feet and floor of the female inmates; dumping at least two or three bucket of powdered soap before spraying the hose; on each bus. Sexual misconduct also takes place on the bus with some of the guards and soldiers(i.e.sucking on the breasts of the inmates and using vibrators to masturbate them after opening their pants; while in transit to the prison.

The Queen Jezebel Women's Correctional Institute-International, the main prison outside of Mombasa, Kenya, is constructed identically like the San Quentin State Prison in California. It occupies 534 square acres and it is heavily armed and guarded. Some of the other prisons are possibly much bigger.

Once the bus arrives at the penitentiary, there is a triple fenced entrance gate (made of steel) with lots of barbed wire; with a armed private guard and a Kenyan soldier at the gate. The fences surrounding the private penitentiary is electrically charged.

At the entrance gate, on each of the two gates, is a white sign that is in black wording. It reads:

Queen Jezebel Women's Correctional Institute-International gate . 

WARNING!!
Private Property
OF
O. B. Corporation
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
(NO MEN ALLOWED!!!)
KEEP OUT!!!!!!
DEADLY FORCE AUTHORIZED!!!!

A woman, who is a private security officer (usually a Sergeant or Lieutenant), boards the bus with one of the armed soldier or guard and checks the bus and driver for security clearance. Once cleared, the double gates are open for the bus to enter. All of the new inmates are escorted from the bus to the inside of an acceptance facility. First, the inmates are checked by the medical staff. Once the medical step is completed, they are then rounded up and stripped of their clothing for good. The clothes are left on the floor. They are forbidden to pick up or touch any of their items. Again, same as the procedure at the detention facility, they are bodily searched: anal cavity, mouth, etc. 

The initiation begins: The women inmates are then lined up in three single file lines; completely naked from head to toe; facing the large indoor shower area in the acceptance facility. There are six groups of guards and soldiers by the shower area; per single file line.The remainder of the security team are in the area and looking; and laughing. Three women, one from each line, is ordered to have her arms over her head; with the palm of her hands closed together.

As each inmate walk towards the showers, she is grabbed, fondled, slapped, kissed and licked on and sexually mauled by the two members of the security team that is assigned to each of the three lines. The inmate is still forced to keep her arms over her head and her hands and fingers closed together. Sometimes, one of the security team personnel has a vibrator to masturbate the new female prisoners. Afterwards, the inmate is finally released to go into the running shower to wash up; with bars of soap already in the shower area for use.

Afterwards, the inmates grab towels from the "clean" towel bend to dry themselves before dropping them into the "dirty" towel bend.

Like cattle, the new prisoners are branded with a big branding iron on the left side of their ass cheeks; and tattooed on their left breasts. The tattoo is an image of the grim reaper from the branding iron. The left side of their ass cheeks read(in red wording) :

"PROPERTY OF THE O. B. CORPORATION &

IT'S PRISON ENTERPRISES"

The women are issued blue jean shorts with cut off pockets; with no panties. They are topless and barefooted at all times (with exception of the outside work detail that does hard labor. This group is issued black working jumpers and black work boots for work only. Then, once they are done for the day, they must undress and are topless and barefooted along with the rest of the inmates.). 

The bigger breasted women are escorted to open tiers with the rest of the general population; by physical force if necessary The smaller breasted women are escorted to the isolation population for mandatory surgical enhancement; by physical force if necessary. Usually, the prison staff waits until the inmate is charged and convicted before performing the operation; but they do not always wait.

The isolated population, unlike the general population, who are in an open tier with issued bunk beds, television, and other items that are authorized, are assigned single cells.

After sentencing, the inmate is returned to the prison by the bus. Once in secure custody, the inmate is immediately dragged by force by the guards and/or government soldiers to the operating room; against her will. Once the inmate is on the operating table and sedated, the medical staff performs the breast enhancement operation.After a few weeks of rest, the inmate is relocated from the isolation population to general population.

The general population are topless and barefooted with nothing but blue jean shorts with cut off pockets; both front and back. This includes the females on H-block.

H-block(Horticulture/Agriculture): These women are out in the fields planting seeds for vegetables and fruits; and picking them once the items are ripe.They also milk the cows and goats. As an authorized visitor, with a high ranking prison official, guard and soldier touring with you, you can see the women of all ages, with their bare bra less breasts and bare feet, working the fields; young and older (mature); natural or implants. They are laughing and are hard at work; with the guards watching over them and ordering them. Some are angry but are still working. One inmate was behind another inmate and fondling her tits with both hands while she was bending down to pick some vegetables. The H-block inmates are also in charge of the kitchen. They also cook and clean in the kitchen. Vegetables and items planted by the inmates are also sold by the prison; as well as everything else.

B-block(Blue Collar): These inmates are the hard labor work detail(i.e. hammering big rocks into little rocks, assisting in construction work,etc.). They are dressed in black jump suits with no pockets and black boots. These are the women who are allowed to wear their work uniforms when they are on an outside work detail only. They are also issued safety equipment. Once finished, they have to turn in their uniforms and are once again topless and barefooted.

F-block(factory): These women, who are also issued jumpers, which are white, and black boots, work in a factory building apart from the main housing area; but is still on the prison grounds. They help manufacture and box up silicone implants and other implants made by the corporation. The rules still apply to them as far as when work is completed.

The prison comprises of 80% African women(50% Kenyan, 10%Ugandan, 5%Nigerian, remainder of the 15% are Cameroonian, South African, Niger,Namibia, etc.). The other 20% are European, American and white Africans.

The regular staff consists of an all female medical staff and administrative staff. The staff includes plastic surgeons for breasts implants, gynecologists and nurses who take great care of the medical needs of the inmates; with pride. There are also practicing witches, sorceresses, psychiatrists and hypnotists. The administrative staff keeps charge of the paperwork and files of the inmates.

The Security staff consists of the warden; who is a female and hand picked by the corporation and the secret society. There is a private all female security team and contracted government soldiers of the host nation that are well paid and well privileged. The private guards are African women throughout the continent and Western nations(i.e. Great Britain, France, Denmark, United States, Germany, Sweden and Asia). All are big breasted women. This ratio applies to all of the private prison facilities.

The dress uniforms are almost exactly like that of the U. S. Marines; except that the security uniforms are black instead of light blue and navy blue. The red trimmings do exists on the uniforms with dress shoes or black boots; with the white hat with brim; like the American marines with the symbol of the company; which has a lion and lioness with " O. B. " insignia on it. On the right arm sleeve of all of the private security uniforms are the stitched flag of the host government and stitched corporate flag of the O. B. Corporation just beneath it.

The security team also wear camouflage fatigues and black boots as a second uniform. The security team are armed with both American, British, Russian and Chinese made weapons(i.e. M-16, AK 47, etc). The security team also have the latest riot gear supply in the facilities.

Though the O. B. Corporation has it's own security team, it does hold contracts on the government troops of the host country(The exceptions of the United States and Scotland; though the all female Danish soldiers fall under the command and will of the prison command of their facility). The all female soldiers are also housed at the facility. The security team and the soldiers are assigned to college type dormitories on the prison grounds. Like the private security force, they, too, are well taken care of and well paid. The soldiers usually wear camouflage fatigues and black boots; and are normally armed with AK 47 assault rifles and the same type of weaponry as the private security guards. However, they have few freedoms.

The all female team of private security guards and government soldiers are forced to have breasts implants if the administrative staff feels that their cup sizes are not big enough; by force if need be. The breasts enhancement surgeries are paid for by the prison and the company. Like the inmates, the security team and the staff are forbidden to wear bras. Failure to do so will result in disciplinary actions and punishment. The high ranking private security guards officers are the senior officers and are in charge and command of both the low ranking security guards and the government troops under their command; including the commissioned female officers of the government army assigned to them; and can order them to execute all commands; assignment wise and other wise (i. e. sexual favors). 

What goes on in the prisons are kept a secret by the corporation and the host governments; though there have been leaks to the media. There have been told stories of inmates who are forcibly dragged from their work detail during the day; or from their beds during the night by private guards and government soldiers. They are brought to a dungeon where they are stripped of their shorts and bound from wrist to ankles onto a bondage device.

Within this dungeon is a dominatrix, a hypnotist and a sorceress. This team of amazons perform witch craft and physically play with the breasts of the subject. The whole room is dark and lighted with candles. The hypnotists performs her trade; hypnotizing and brain washing her. They pray and worship the woman and her breasts. Then, they began to maul on her breasts; sucking on them and biting on her nipples. They use items such as nipple clamps, anal beads, vibrators, nipple and breast arousal creams, mouth gags and other items. They use the vibrator to masturbate her and force her to go to bed with them for lesbian sex. She is then escorted back to her tier. 

There were also reports of the inmates, the 'privileged' women who are used as prostitutes and escorts for national and foreign dignitaries; mostly women clients. Male dignitaries, national and foreign, are given services; at a much more expensive rate. There is a special tier for this group of busty inmates (E-tier).

E-tier is an isolation tier. These women are given a special money stipend and other special privileges. They are allowed to were t-shirts and clothes around the tier; but no bras. Nice and expensive dresses are purchased for them; as well as the best and most expensive name brand shoes; jewelry, gold watches, etc. However, they are bound and commanded to sleep with any woman client that is assigned to them. It does not matter if the inmate is heterosexual.

These inmates are dressed up very nicely in their expensive dresses, shoes and jewelry before they are restrained and shackled with handcuffs, wrists chains and leg irons. Then, they are escorted into window tinted hummers to be taken to the location of the clients for sexual favors. Lesbian women who are wives of ambassadors, foreign government officials, wives of national and local government officials pay top currency for these women; the corporation and the prison gets their percentage before the female inmate escort gets her payment.

Incident(s)(one of many):

There was a blonde, short haired white American female reporter working for a famous unnamed magazine. Her name was Cindy, who was in her mid 20's. She was an advocate for human rights. She had even worked for the ACLU at one time. She also worked for Amnesty International for a few years. She had heard stories of the inhumane acts that was taking place in one of the private prisons by the O. B. Corporation. She even voiced her disapproval of the new facility that was being built in the deserts of California; in her articles. She decided to take a vacation and go undercover to Nairobi, Kenya to investigate.

She was staying at the Hotel, which was by the airport. She was dressed in a pair of blue jeans, white low quarter tennis shoes and a white t-shirt with no bra. One night, while she was waiting in the hotel lobby, two busty females got out of a 2013 black BMW i8Spyder and quickly entered the hotel. As if they knew whom they were looking for, the two women walked towards her, grabbed Cindy, slapped her around and escorted her out of the hotel. Then, they physically forced her into the car.

According to eye witnesses, One of the women was described as a black Kenyan in her approximate late 20's .She was 5'9 and 170 pounds. Her measurements were a 34-32-38 with 34E cup sized breasts. Her hair was black and short. She was wearing a tight white dress with short sleeves that was short at the bottom. Her bra less cleavage was about to pop out of her dress as she rushed towards Cindy. She was also barefooted. Her feet was well pedicured with red colored toe nails.

The other woman was described as a French speaking Caucasian women of European descent. She had long ,curly and wavy blonde hair. She was approximately 5'8 and 120 pounds. Her measurements were a 42-26-34 with 75 G cup sized breasts. She was wearing a pink tight dress. Her dress could barely contain her huge breasts. She, too, was barefooted. Cindy, who was only 5'2 and 110 pounds, was grabbed by both arms and taken away. She had not been heard from since.




Queen Jezebel Women's Prison Intl.



She was held at the detention facility holding cell for days before appearing in court on false charges (narcotics and illegal entry into the country). They did not bother to send her straight to the prison. She was found guilty and was quickly transferred to the prison facility.

Once she was processed and initiated, she was taken to the operating room by the guards and soldiers for breast implant surgery; by physical force. She was sedated and operated on. Cindy, who breasts were a small 32 A cup size, were now a 34DDD. She was also drugged, hypnotized and brain washed afterwards; a mere human robot and sex slave. She is now an inmate in general population and serving her sentence. She is now awaiting an appeal.

Incident(#2): A female Ugandan soldier(name is not revealed due to confidentiality), with a manilla folder of documents that she stolen from the administrative offices of the Ugandan branch of Queen Jezebel Women's Correctional Institute, tried to leave the country via Kampala airport. She was described as a dark brown skinned woman in her early 20's. She was 5'5 and 116. Her measurements were a 36-24-36 with 36DDD cup sized breasts. Her hair was short and black and had green colored eyes. She was in her green fatigue army uniform and black combat boots with uniform cap when she was boarding the plane to London,England. She was stopped by authorities, arrested and taken into custody. She was tried and found guilty of espionage and treason. She was dishonorably discharged from the Ugandan Army and was sentenced to life imprisonment.

Afterwards, the former Ugandan soldier was sent to the prison permanently. The staff wanted to add insult to injury by increasing her breast size; just to make her life miserable while she was serving her sentence. Just as soon as she returned to the prison from court, the guards and soldiers rushed her to the operating room as ordered by the warden; whom was directly ordered by the angry O. B. Corporation executives. The former soldier was taken by physical force. She tried to resists; but it was futile. They sedated her and the surgeons performed the breast enhancement operation on her. Her breasts were increased from a 36DDD to a 164XXX. The woman complained of back problems as a result of the operation to the prison staff; but was complaining to deaf ears. The woman is now an inmate in general population at the Ugandan prison division that she once guarded as a government soldier.

There is more to the story. This includes the all busty female secret society that has it's hand in this system. They will be revealed.