Tiffany Crosses the Color Line

Tiffany Crosses the Color Line

CHAPTER ONE

** Tiffany's journey continues as she is turned into a black streetwalker. **

NOTE: This trilogy picks up where "Tiffany Gets Decorated" left off. To learn more about these characters and how they got into this situation, you may want to read that series first - D

---

Kyung Mi -- Kaitee for short -- never ceased to amaze me. As a graduate level psychology student and academic prodigy, her knowledge of the human mind was stunning. And, as Tiffany's roommate, her knowledge of the world inside Tiffany's head was even more impressive.

Just before I left Southern California two weeks ago to fly home, she was the one who suggested the logs. I found one of the public "real life slaves" websites that had what I wanted and had Tiffany join. She resisted when she had to provide a valid email account but I gave her one from an old submissive of mine. (No point giving anyone else the upper hand in blackmailing this sweet young thing.) On that site, we posted several of the photos I'd taken - her face Photoshopped out but her luscious body intact. Same with videos. She was quiet and kept her head down as she copied them from my USB drive to her new website. I savored the thick atmosphere of submission in the room as she offered herself up to the public, for every wanker and jerk-off to download and watch absolutely free.

The journalling started that day as well. She logs every piss and shit she takes, and every handjob or blowjob she provides to her steady customers. An entry consists of date, time, and a one paragraph description of each occurrence. I enjoy reading her entries about simple visits to the toilet. she has to get more and more creative every time to not simply repeat herself. By the end of the first week, she was making entries like: "I opened my legs this time and lifted my bottom slightly off the toilet seat. When the turd began to push its way out of me, I felt a feeling of intense shame, knowing I would be writing about it as soon as I returned to my room. It made it very difficult for me to finish."

Kaitee had me implement that for a very specific reason. Tiffany was completely mortified by body functions. If it were possible, she would try to make believe she never used a toilet at all. The intensity of just the few sentences she had to write each day was wreaking havoc with her mind.

Tiffany's entries about Allan are equally compelling. Allan is no longer satisfied with handjobs as he was before. And he no longer pays her. He routes the fee directly to my account.  Her entry from her first visit to Allan after the piercing was rather mile, but the second was more disturbing: "Allan made me strip naked as soon as I entered his home. this time he did not have me touch him, he just played with my body. He attached metal devices to me that allowed him to stretch my nipples from underneath the barbell. I was with him for over two hours and he adjusted the stretchers half a turn each thirty minutes. Then, he just went about his business and left me standing with my hands behind my back in the middle of the room. The pain made my eyes run with tears but I cannot complain because I know David will reveal me to my parents."

Her third and fourth visits were like that as well. He's only had one more visit with her since, two nights ago. She simply wrote: "David allowed Allan and two friends to possess my bottom tonight. They bent me gently over a table and took turns using me from behind. I was well lubricated. I am still a virgin. I am still a virgin."

Kaitee told me that this step was necessary.  I realize I haven't been completely forthcoming about Kaitee's involvement in this entire affair. In short, she orchestrated it. She is the mastermind.

It happened like this.

Tiffany and Kaitee had been friends through most of high school. They went away to different colleges but both ended up at USC. They kept in close touch that entire time. Their families were well off and it was not difficult to fly back and forth across the country on weekends and spend summer vacations touring the world.

During all that time, they partied hard together, shared stories, and flirted relentlessly.  Kaitee was always the more perceptive of the two and easily saw Tiffany's submissive side. She never mentioned anything but occasionally did things to watch how Tiffany might respond. As the years went by, she realized she had a dominant side and let herself go further and further. She'd tease Tiffany in front of other Koreans -- Tiffany was a half-breed, a combination Thai and Koran. It didn't matter to many of them but Tiffany -- already conditioned by her parents to assume she was "not good enough" -- internalized it. Kaitee would make comments about her clothes, her choice of boyfriends, even what she read. It was always very mild, almost subliminal, but completely effective. By the time they became roommates in graduate school, Tiffany was deeply in love with her and wished for nothing less than complete submission to her friend.

Kaitee dropped hints and Tiffany picked them up. A casual comment like "this is my favorite perfume" and she could rest assured Tiffany would never let her run out. Expensive dresses -- dresses Kaitee's parents would never pay for -- would show up as gifts from Tiffany. Kaitee had once even let Tiffany finger her to orgasm, giggling through it all so Tiffany could justify it to herself as "innocent girl play" even while her mind was overwhelmed by the very idea she was touching her goddess.

Where I came into the picture was about a year ago when Kaitee learned Tiffany was making money giving handjobs and blowjobs to a small but steady handful of customers. I never learned the reason for the turnaround, but Kaitee decided she wanted to completely break Tiffany -- her words were that she wanted to "own the little whore body and soul". I picked up some hints of what it was about -- betrayal of their friendship, jealousy. But there was something more. Something that smacked of racial purity -- Tiffany was taking white cock into her mouth and that offended Kaitee.

She already knew about me. In fact, she knew just about everything about Tiffany's life. All the things Tiffany thought she was keeping secret were like an open book to someone with Kaitee's instincts. She told me she'd read my stories and the emails and chats between me and Tiffany and was sure I was up to the job. She outlined it in general strokes -- the timeline, the buttons to push, the ways I could get into Tiffany's head -- and asked if I was interested. One major feature she insisted on: I would exploit Tiffany's racial fears and prejudices as part of the process. Having grown up in the same culture, Kaitee knew them all and laid them out for me.

It took me a while to a decision. The entire thing was -- IS -- a minefield. A white Dom subjecting an Asian woman to humiliation and use at the hands of . . . well, you'll see soon enough. But it was a problem. Until she told me how much she was willing to pay to make this happen. That drew me into her camp quickly. When she explained that I would also be getting all of the money Tiffany had collected from her johns, I was in. Yes, I can be bought.

It would take me another two weeks to arrange things so I could spend some significant time in Southern California, manipulating the situation locally instead of from a distance. Though I do write, it isn't how I pay the bills. Luckily,  my job is somewhat portable and I was able to volunteer for enough "project work" that they could live without me at my desk for up to six weeks. More than enough time to let this play itself out. But that was two weeks away.

Kaitee wrote me back quickly with suggestions on how best to use the two weeks. As usual, she was incredibly creative and completely correct about how to continue Tiffany's downward spiral.

---

Since I wasn't present when the following events happened, I'll use some of Tiffany's journal entries to describe them. "Yesterday, Kaitee gave me an unexpected present. It was a book of coupons for a local tanning booth shop. She told me she was looking at pictures of us on vacation last summer and that she thought I looked much sexier with a deep tan. Aiiiiiiii! It made me juice, the thought that she had been looking at pictures of me. I came twice in the bathroom thinking about her. She is so hot and sexy. I went to the tanning booth last night after supper and again this afternoon between classes. I so want her to notice me!" Kaitee filled in the blanks for me. Tiffany told her about it, told her "thank you" over and over for the present and said she would get as dark as chocolate.

As she talked, she let out that she might like to go somewhere else next time, this place was dirty and nasty. She described the girl behind the counter was an under-20 Latina with hair piled up high and too much makeup. She was wearing nearly nothing, and what she had on was skin tight and brightly colored. She popped gum as she handed Tiffany a towel and told her to get undressed. The towel wasn't big enough to cover much of her and she complained but the girl didn't do anything. I already knew that. Kaitee had shown them a picture of Tiffany and told them exactly how to treat her. They left her in the booth longer and dialed up the controls in order to get the best results in the least amount of time without burning. When she talked about going somewhere else, Kaitee gave just the slightest hint she was disappointed and Tiffany backed off completely. As expected. She was so docile and compliant I was surprised Kaitee didn't just say "I own you now" and get the whole thing over with.

Kaitee also provided the bottles of water they gave Tiffany before and after the sessions. She was loading them with hormones, preparing her body for some changes she would go ahead with when I finally got to town. She also spiked Tiffany's water bottles at home, she was getting a megadose of whatever it was.

After just a few days of that, Tiffany noticed results. She wrote in her journal: "Kaitee followed me to the shower this morning. I was so excited, i was juicing all the way down the hall. My body is already getting darker and I wanted her to notice. I wiggled my ass all the way down the hall. When we got into the bathroom, I stripped down to just my tiniest bra and walked around, talking about this and that, trying to get her to notice me. She is soooooo sexy! aiiiiiiiiI! she makes me so wet! Now that I am pierced, I think about sex all the time. Kyung Mi is so hot! I want her to touch me so badly. I do more things for her than ever, i wash her clothes, take out the trash, i do everything around the house i can find. I ironed her underthings last night, touching them, smelling them. aiiiiiiiiii! I have to keep my bra on so she does not see that i am pierced. She jokes about it and I blush but I cannot tell her why I keep it on. My pussy is so wet when I look at her."

The other thing we had to keep going those two weeks were her visits with her clients. Aside from Allan, nobody really knew anything had changed. They usually didn't make her take off her clothes, she just showed up, pulled her skirt up and her panties down and let them spank her. Then, she got on her knees and jerked or sucked them off. They paid and she left. It was all pretty mechanical and all went on pretty much as usual. Except that her journal entries were changing. "i felt George's cock press into my side as he spanked me for the fifth time. aiiii! it made me wet thinking about it in my mouth, sucking it and swallowing it."

Kaitee said this would happen as well. As she surrendered to my ownership of her, she would start to eroticize what used to be merely business transactions. Images of cocks would swim in her head. She would still resist, she was far from broken, but it would distract and confuse her. Except for Allan.

Allan was key right now. Everything she did with him was a directly result of my control and her journal entries reflected it. "Allan pulls on my piercings and makes me touch my tattoos, showing them off to his friends. I do not want him to touch me but David will send the pictures to my parents so I must obey."

My part of the bargain during those two weeks was to learn the bar scene, the singles scene, and the kinky underworld around town. It didn't take long. Over two weeks -- and with help from Kaitee -- I was able to line up more than a dozen willing participants. I showed them the pictures Kaitee had digitally enhanced to show how she expected Tiffany to look in about four weeks. The men's enthusiasm was almost physically palpable.

---

As my plane was touching down, I finished the last of the red wine the steward had brought. Free wine. Who knew? I wasn't used to flying first class. I wasn't used to wearing the kind of expensive suit I was wearing either. A lot of things were changing now that I had access to Tiffany's accounts.

Kaitee had arranged that. She'd brought Tiffany to a session with her financial advisor who -- after accepting a thousand dollar "helper" fee from Kaitee -- had explained to her the need for a joint account with a trusted friend. As soon as the words were out, Tiffany turned to Kaitee who graciously agreed to help. Tiffany signed the papers turning the account over to me without even reading them. She still didn't know. I'd left her on the account so her latest purchases -- three pairs of shoes, seven dresses and several hundred dollars worth of underthings at Victoria's Secret -- wouldn't raise any flags.

I was astonished by the amount of money flowing into the account. At Allan's suggestion, she'd raised the prices to all of her clients. They agreed without exception, some noting that she seemed more enthusiastic than usual lately. Allan told me that at least two of them noticed the tan. She'd blushed when they mentioned it. No doubt, it made her think of Kaitee.

I deplaned and went into the terminal to get my bags. Tiffany was downstairs waiting just outside baggage claim. I set the two bags down as soon as I crossed the security line. Without missing a beat, she tried to pick them up. They were heavy and she was straining but she didn't say a word. Finally, she got both of them up off the ground and started walking toward the elevator. I'd purposely overpacked them both, had paid extra at checkin because of it. I really didn't need most of it but I wanted to watch her struggle. It was worth it to watch her balancing herself on three-inch heels while carrying two sixty-pound suitcases. She was wearing a tiny pair of bright red short shorts (hot pants, we used to call them) and a white cross-country runner type tank-top and was catching every eye in the airport. Even in Southern California, she stood out. The long, black, straight hair, the tight, hard body, and the deep tan - unusual for an Asian girl - made her a winning package.

I stood beside the car while she tried to wrestle the suitcases into the trunk. Two college-aged guys came by and helped her, glaring at me just standing there. I nodded and one of them told me to "get fucked". I just smiled.

Tiffany held the passenger side door open for me then walked around and got in. She was still panting from carrying the suitcases, a sheen of sweat covered her body. I turned and looked at her. She was so fucking hot! All that skin, tanned, shimmering, and -- most of all -- completely available.

"Do you have something for me?" I asked. "Yes, Sir," she replied, reaching underneath her seat. She handed me a small box. Inside was a Beltrame stiletto - an 11-inch Swinguard model. Kaitee had come through. I nodded and threw the empty box in the back seat. "Let's go."

With her hands still in her lap, she asked, "where to...Sir?"

"I'm considering having you masturbate for me right now," I said calmly. I saw a slight shiver go through her, like she'd stepped into an air conditioned building. I wanted to fuck her right then, but I had a job to do. I told her to drive to Western Avenue in West Adams. She froze.

"Start the car. You have your instructions."

"But, Sir, that neighborhood..." she began but I didn't respond and she stopped. "Sir, may I go home and get dressed?" Again, I kept silent. I could feel the tension rising in the car. Her deep-rooted prejudices were boiling just under the surface, i could nearly hear the gears turning. Her fears and fantasies would be spinning around in her head by now, images of brown-skinned men of all types -- Puerto Rican, Mexican, Cuban, Central American -- staring at her nearly-naked body. Worse yet, the street I'd given her was a well-known corridor for hookers. Was she wondering if I would have her get out of the car? Work a corner?

"Start the car," I said again. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she bit a trembling lower lip and reached for the key. She fumbled twice before she got the engine started, then nearly backed into another car. She pulled forward and parked, crossed her arms against the steering wheel, lowered her head and stared to cry.

"It's been a long time," I said calmly, "and perhaps you've forgotten our arrangement."

"N..no, Sir," she sobbed.

"Have you changed your mind? Shall I invite your father over and have him watch some movies with me?"

"No, no, Sir."

"Do you want your mother to open an envelope and find a pile of nice, glossy 8 X 10 photos of her daughter? With her piercings and tattoos?"

She broke down for several more minutes. I let her cry herself out without saying a word.

Finally, she raised her head. Her cheeks was soaked with tears and two long, clear strings hung from her nostrils. I gave her a handkerchief and told her to get cleaned up. She wiped herself off and redid her makeup.

"Good. Now, Western Avenue."

She sniffed once then said, "yes, Sir."

---

"That's good, pull over there." I pointed to a parking spot on 8th Street, just around the corner from Western Ave. She pulled into one of the two parking spaces beside a pair of big palm trees. I told her to turn her head and look back up the street. "What do you see?"

"An alley, then a massage parlor. And some men. Sir."

I nodded. "Further down, there's a liquor store." I reached into my pocket and took out a fifty dollar bill. "And I'm thirsty." She started shaking her head but I raised my finger to my lips and she stopped. "I would like something cold. Go get me a can of Dos Equis."

Tiffany got out of the car and walked around to my side. I tapped on the window and she leaned down. I rolled it down. "And? Buy a pack of condoms. Bring them back without a bag. In your hand. Visible." She nodded weakly and began walking up the street. I watched her in the mirror as she slowly walked toward the alley -- a feast of tanned flesh with thin stripes of white fabric that did more to draw attention to her than to cover her. She stopped just after the alley, near the front door of the massage parlor. I was puzzled but only briefly. She shook her head backward, straightening her long hair, then took on a strut I recognized immediately. Her bar walk. She'd slipped into tease mode and was going to play it to the hilt.

The men saw her then and started gesticulating, hooting and whistling. She kept her strut steady and went into the store. They followed her, hands in their pockets, laughing and talking. When she came out, two of them surrounded her and the third fell in line just a step behind. "A fifty dollar bill, eh, Princess Chan?" They kept taunting and teasing, talking about the rubbers and beer, asking "how much for a party, Kim Chee?" They gave up about halfway back to the car and went back to their corner, high-fiving and laughing.

Just before Tiffany passed the massage parlor, the door opened and a short, overweight black man came out, he was weaving and was clearly drunk. He stopped and when she walked by, he put out his hand. She froze and he ran his meaty palm across her belly, just underneath the navel. I was about to open the car door when he laughed and staggered up the street toward the corner. Tiffany dropped the can and condoms, ran into the alley and leaned against the wall, dropped her head and threw up.

---

It was Thursday night. Tiffany had no classes on Friday, so we had the next three days free. I would devote them to research, testing her limits and trying to decide what I wanted to do with her next. I had only one specific instruction from Kaitee: to turn Tiffany brown. Not just tan. Brown. A rich, deep chocolate brown. She'd told the girls at the tanning salon exactly what she wanted: a rich dark mocha color, evenly baked into every inch of her body. They were making progress but it was slow going. They told me to expect that, tanning had plateaus and she was at one. But, that was fine. We had time.

But Kaitee meant more than giving Tiffany a deep, dark tan. She wanted me to change her life as well. Her clothes. Her lovers. Her speech. In short, actually "turn" her brown.

Kaitee had left me to make the one big decision: would we turn Tiffany into a Latina hooker or a black hooker? It set me back quite a bit when she explained it to me. it made me squirm. I'm not comfortable with racial stereotypes and it violated my own principles but she upped the ante again -- substantially this time. It stunned me exactly how far she was willing to go -- how much time and money she was willing to invest in this -- but finally, I collapsed under the weight of my own greed.

Before I started, I brought her back to Carson to augment her decorations. He tattooed the Korean symbol for Pleasure in the small space just above the crack of her ass. Then, I showed her a photograph of her next tattoo: a four-inch tall, anatomically correct, open-lipped vagina. She pulled me close and begged me not to, offered me anything I wanted, including her precious virginity. She took my hand and slid it up between her legs, whispering she would "give it up" to me if I would just reconsider. I gripped her wrist firmly with my other hand and pulled it away, pressed it on one arm of the chair. I did the same with the other one.

"Tell Mr. Carson you are ready for your tattoo."

"I...am...ready for...my...tattoo, Sir," she managed. I blindfolded her while he swabbed her clean-shaven underarm with soap and water, then alcohol. He worked on the design for nearly an hour, touching and dabbing, pushing her arm upward and to the side as needed. She leaned her head to the side and sobbed silently. I could imagine her wrestling with herself. She'd gone on and on about how it would turn her on to be forcibly tattooed. Now that it was happening, she was having second thoughts. It was too late, it was happening.

When the tattoo was done, I had him tape a gauze cotton pad over it. I'd actually had him tattoo a pin-up type girl there, long and thin, wearing a sailor cap and not much else, but Tiffany didn't need to know that. I wanted her to live with the fear that someone would see her underarm tattoo, live with the knowledge that she could never forget to keep her arms down, never let her guard slip. It was worse than handcuffs or chains, this was a permanent reminder that she had to keep her arm in a particular position. Tattos could be forgotten, she could adjust to a piercing, but this would haunt her constantly.  She could never relax. She could never forget. It would remind her every minute of every day that she was owned. With any luck, she would never bring herself to look at it and realize it wasn't as bad as she thought.

I wanted to push the "only Hispanic sluts wear big hoop earrings" button, so we pierced both ears and put in big hoop earrings. She was excited and I could tell she wanted to touch herself. I teased her, touching her thighs lightly, until Carson told me to stop because she wasn't sitting still and he couldn't work. When he finished, I had him schedule another appointment the next night and invited Allan. He asked Carson if he could make the earrings permanent. Tiffany panicked but I could nearly smell her arousal. She opened and closed her thighs, trying to hide it but unable. As Carson described the process, Allan slid his hand up underneath her skirt. She squirmed and whispered, "no" but came right in the chair in front of us. Her face and chest blushed deep red but she couldn't stop grinding her hips against Allan's hand. She came again.

"Ask the nice man to make your slut hoops permanent," Allan said.

Tiffany looked at Carson and asked. He lit the small soldering device he kept on the table.

When he was finished with the hoops, I told him I needed one more thing done. Tiffany looked at me, puzzled and afraid. She couldn't hide the hoop earrings the way she could the nipple piercings and the tattoos. Now, I wanted something else?

"Three more," I said, watching Tiffany closely. She nearly fainted. I pointed to the marker on Carson's tool table and he handed it to me. I made three dots on Tiffany's left ear, clustered near the top of the helix. "A small gold ring in each one."

I could see Tiffany fighting back tears, her pride was still intact even though she knew I had complete control over her. It was delicious.

Carson raised the price for the piercings and Allan pulled out a wad of cash. It was over in less than ten minutes.

---

All day Friday and into Saturday morning, I experimented with a variety of things. I paraded her around the seedier parts of town half naked, watching the reactions from the men and woman, the streetwalkers and pimps, the storeowners and the cops. Especially the cops. I was playing a dangerous game here. I didn't know the neighborhoods well so it was important I had some sense of their reaction to me and her.

Her first outing was around lunch time in a working-class area of a black neighborhood. Tiffany was horrible during the preparations, complaining and resisting. I had to punch in the first four digits of her parents' phone number into my cell before she quieted down and let the make-up girl go to work on her. When she was finished, Tiffany looked like a Goddess - a cocoa-colored Goddess.  Her hair was corn-rowed and greased, her eyelids heavily painted, and her lips puffy and bright red. Liz -- a make-up girl who worked free lance for the movie industry and knew all the tricks -- had worked on Tiffany's lips with some kind of fine-needled chemical injection that puffed them to more than twice their normal size. Then, she outlined them with a black pencil and painted them with something bright and red that she showed me couldn't be wiped off. I was impressed.

But even more impressive was the body work she did. She went out to her van and came back with a suitcase full of gear. By the time she was done, Tiffany had D-sized breasts and a huge, round ass.

"Now, you know you can't take off your clothes or they'll see what's under here," she said casually, more to me than Tiffany. The clothes consisted of a pair of skintight, bright read pants that cut off just below the knee and a top that clung tight just under her breasts and forced her cleavage up and out. The underside was padded to make it look like the freakishly-large D cups were natural. On Tiffany's slight frame, the tits and ass were almost comical, like a caricature. Liz adjusted her top so a slight bit of her dark nipple ring was exposed. She'd taped the nipple piercings but that only made what showed through the fabric look even more extreme. Tiffany submitted silently to the degrading costume, standing perfectly still while Liz worked. Liz finished her off with two big gold bracelets then handed her a pair of four-inch spike heeled shoes.

Liz stood next to me as we watched Tiffany fumble with her new body, trying to bend down and strap on the shoes.

As I peeled Tiffany's own money off the stack in my jacket pocket, I said, "don't worry about her taking off the clothes. She's a cocksucker. All mouth. She just loves to swallow, so, no problem with the clothes."

---

I picked a bar in a decent working-class black neighborhood and set her up for business on a barstool near the men's room. She grabbed my arm as I started to walk away but I glared at her and she let go. "Sit. Sip. and flirt. You're used to it, aren't you?" She lowered her eyes, anger and shame raging. "Letting men buy you drinks? You know. Of course, you were the sweet, hot, grad student from USC, weren't you? Not a slutty little black hooker with a big bubble ass." Her shoulders slouched as the words penetrated her. That was what they were going to see. Or even worse. A wannabee. An Asian babe who wanted to go back. A 'bruised banana'. I slid my hand up between her legs, making sure plenty of the guys in the bar saw me. Then, I kissed her cheek and dropped a fifty dollar bill on the bar. The whispering started.

We  stayed for just under an hour. Six different guys took their turns, buying her drinks, chatting her up. Each ended the same way, she sent them to me, told them to talk to me about anything more than a drink. I wasn't ready to pimp her out but she didn't know that. I made appointments for each of them, handing them a fake address and a fake phone number. They went away, happy and looking forward to tomorrow.

When we left, I told her she had an hour to rest up before the gangbang started. She shuddered and stumbled. I caught her, saw her eyes. She was close to passing out. I held her until it passed, then flagged down another taxi.

It was only two in the afternoon and we had all day. I gave the driver a piece of paper with an address then settled back in the seat. I ran my finger along her ear, stroking the three small earrings.

"Como siente hoy, mi puta?"

The driver looked in the mirror, puzzled. I leaned forward. "Bi-racial." He nodded, still confused.

"So, how did it feel?"

"I felt so cheap, horrible, like a slut." I nodded. "Good. You're learning." I stroked her leg, running my hand from her knee to her mid thigh. "Have you ever sucked black cock?"

"Ewww!" she sneered. I just stared. I'll bet she'd let them buy her enough drinks over the years, led them on with those big almond eyes of hers, that tight little body. I started to wonder if she'd ever even sucked off any of the white or Asian guys who bought her drinks. Maybe the only guys she'd sucked off were the lawyers who were paying for it. It wasn't actually hard to believe.

"You're going to have your first one. Your first black lollipop." She stiffened and shook her head. "There are limits." I shook my head. "Yeah, but I set them, not you."

---

Allan and Willy were wearing robes, sipping scotch and smoking cigars when I brought Tiffany into the suite. The front of the robes fell open when they stood up and came to shake my hand. Tiffany's eyes locked on Willy's crotch. I looked too. He was impressive, his cock was thick and hung nearly to his knees. She looked at me in panic, grabbed my arm.

"Hey, girl!" Willy said, holding out his free arm. "Gimme some sugar." She stood frozen while Willy leaned forward, his mouth inches from hers. Gently, I reached for her head, took it in my hands, and turned her toward him. She opened her mouth and let him kiss her, his stubbly face scratching her skin, his tongue pushing deep into her throat. His hand squeezed her titty and he pulled back right away.

"What the fuck?" He pulled her top off and the padding slid to the floor. "Damn, girl!" He leaned his head down when he saw the nipples. "Now, why you hidin' these?" He took the little gold barbells in his fingers and twisted both of them ninety degrees. Tears came to her eyes. "That ass real?" She cried and shook her head. He twisted harder and she yelped. "You tryin' to be funny? Huh?" He let go and the piercings spun back into place, she yelped again. He pushed her head down and she went to her knees. "Suck my cock, bitch." Sniffling and shaking, Tiffany reached for his long cock, raising the head to her mouth. She pushed the head against her lips, opened them and let the head slide between them. I saw her body shake and her hands start to shake. As another inch of the cock went into her mouth, she gagged, then jumped up and ran out of the room. She didn't know where the bathroom was and dropped to her knees in the hallway, spewing her lunch onto the tile floor.

"You done?"

Tiffany turned and saw Willy standing behind her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, turned and looked at him. Without a word, he grabbed her hair and pulled her toward him. "Again," he said. This time, she surrendered and let him pump back and forth in her mouth while she made wet, slurping sounds. When he came, she swallowed what she could but didn't expect such a torrent. It gushed out of her mouth and nose onto his legs and the floor. He had her lick him clean, gagging all the time. When he was finished, he let go of her hair and came back into the living room. "Bitch has a lot to learn," he growled, then asked, "anyone need another drink?"

---

She had an appointment with one of her regulars at six. She begged me to let her undo the makeup, at least take off the ass-pants. I looked at Allan and he shook his head. "There's no way of telling. I don't know these guys too well." Tiffany was on her knees, had been there since she swallowed Allan's cum fifteen minutes ago. She was gently licking his balls and the insides of his thighs while he just closed his eyes and enjoyed it.

"Just give me your professional estimate," I said.

"My guess? You'll lose a few. But word will get out and you'll pick up more."

I was puzzled so he continued. "A lot of these guys are freaks. But they never bring it up.  Look at what you have. A hot Asian slut who's masquerading as a low end crack ho? I can think of three guys who'd pay you top dollar for her right now. Two lawyers and a doctor."

"You like the dark skin?"

Allan shook his head. "Not nearly dark enough. But it's a start. You're doing a good job." I nodded, looked at Tiffany. She was burying herself between his legs, trying not to listen to us.

Willy took a draw from his cigar, held it, blew it out slowly. "You know they're gonna want to fuck her."

"Yeah," I said. Tiffany froze and I nodded to Allan. He pushed her head and she started moving again. I knelt behind her and ran my fingers between her cunt lips. "She's still a virgin. And very proud of it." I opened her lips and touched her clit. She juiced all over my hand and I wiped it down the inside of her thigh. I tugged at her cunt lips. "We're going to pierce these, you know. Allan, you want to watch?" Tiffany came again, grinding her ass against my hand now.

When my fingers were soaked completely, I pushed two of them against her tight little back hole. She was tight and I couldn't make any headway. I got my middle finger wet with her juice again and pressed my fingertip against her anus. "Relax," I whispered. She clenched but I pushed anyway. She groaned and grabbed my wrist. I pushed forward, slowly, moving back and forth, ignoring her attempt to pull me away.

"Tight?" Allan asked.

"Clench locked," I said. "This is going to take a while." Tiffany pushed her cheek against the inside of Allan's thigh, opened her legs and tried to relax. I felt her unclench and I pushed. My finger slid all the way in a single stroke. She sucked in her breath and shuddered. "Good, isn't it, Tiffany?" I slid my thumb up against her clit and rubbed. "Aiiiiiiiiiiii..." She came in seconds.

--- end