Path: not-for-mail
From: Arnold Sloan <Nowhere@at.all>
Date: Sat, 24 Nov 2007 11:17:03 -0500
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage,alt.sex.stories.erotic,alt.sex.stories.incest
Subject: STORY - The Stripper Cop MM/f, BDSM, Interracial, exhibitionism
Message-Id: <99f2.9eaf.1f@ebookblue>
content-length: 28362
X-Complaints-To: abuse@usenetserver.com
Organization: UseNetServer.com
Lines: 488
X-Trace: bd16347484e7e6ad5d85619335
===================
A seductive young police detective supplements her income and
satisfies her lust by stripping and selling her body to wealthy
customers. But sometimes she gets more than she bargained for.
***
She let Nolan drop her off and strode briskly into the lobby of her
apartment.
Bernie Robinson raised his eyes from the newspaper as she entered,
and she saw them widen appreciatively. She couldn't help grinning,
enjoying, as she always did, how men reacted to the sight of her,
especially in a short skirt and tight top.
"Ahh, good evening Detective Tam," he said.
"Hi Bernie," she said.
On hooker patrol again?
"John patrol, you mean," she said with a grin.
I bet you caught a passel of `em.
"I was reeling them in left and right," she said, passing his desk
and heading for the elevators. "Men are so cheap."
"We are that. S'long as you got the right bait," he said with a
big smile, his eyes never leaving her.
"Like my bait, Bernie?" she asked teasingly.
Oh yes, ma'am!
She laughed and pushed the elevator for twenty six, then backed up
and looked up to the corner, blowing a kiss at the camera there,
knowing Bernie would be watching her. Not only watching her, she
guessed. He'd tell Joel when he came on at midnight and probably show
him the video.
I am so hot, she thought with a smug little smile.
Ten minutes later she was in jeans, a tank top, and tennis shoes
heading back out. It was almost midnight, but the night was still
young as far as she was concerned and she had the next day off. She
took a cab downtown, then walked the last few blocks. It wouldn't do
to have anyone make any connection between where she lived and where
she - sometimes - worked.
She showed her key to the doorman and he stepped back a pace as
she crossed the lobby. Seventy flights up the polished glass doors on
the elevator opened to the seductive music and the recessed lighting
of one of New York's more exclusive drinking clubs. The Pioneer Club
was an all male, all white bastion of old money. The yearly club fee
was fifty thousand dollars, and the cost of drinks and food hardly
bore thinking about.
The rug in the lobby was deep, plush red, the walls gleaming
mahogany. She passed the wide open door to the club and went in
through the employee entrance, and then down a back hall to the
dressing room.
"Li, you're late," Cheryl said.
"Almost late. That's not the same thing," she replied.
"If you're not on stage in five fucking minutes it'll be the same
thing," the older woman snapped.
"So bitch at me then," Ming said over her shoulder, stripping off
her tank top.
She stripped off her jeans and sneakers, hurriedly brushed out her
hair, then pulled it back into a pony tail behind her. She opened her
locker and took out her blouse and long skirt, stuffed her feet into
white socks, and then shrugged on the shirt and blue skirt. Karen
helped her put her shoes on while she was fumbling in the locker
for her glasses, then she snagged her blouse and hurried around to
the rear of the stage.
Dana came through the curtains, naked of course, carrying her
schoolgirl outfit and gave Ming the briefest nod before Ming passed
her by and strode out onto the stage.
The club was dimly lit, with small oak tables circled by
comfortable padded chairs. The rug was deep blue, the walls dark oak.
It was all very - tasteful, and even the music was slower paced, and
quieter than any of the strip clubs Ming had been in.
But the principal was the same.
The music held a steady, no nonsense drumbeat. And she all but
marched across the stage, swinging her hips in time to the music,
frowning out into the all but invisible audience, tossing her head
arrogantly, sniffing in disdain as she moved around the circular
stage.
At twenty-five, she had long learned what turned people's cranks,
and was quite certain these rich old men had seen plenty of snotty,
oh so polite young businesswomen in their time. And, of course, there
was the Asian thing, the mysterious oriental girl with her presumed
chastity and enthusiasm for hard work.
Oh yes, she had their attention as she made a dance of head
tosses, hair swinging and hip rolling, all with a haughty look on her
face.
And then the music changed and she flung back her arms. Her blazer
slipped quickly over her shoulders and down her arms, and she swung
her body, tossing it at the stage. Her hips rolled more seductively
now, and she ran her tongue across her lower lip as she leered at
them. She reached behind her and undid the pony tail then, as she
shook her hair out, tossed the plastic glasses at the curtain.
She taunted them with each button she undid down the front of her
blouse, then, instead of removing it, let her skirt slide down to her
feet and stepped on the heel of her shoes to kick free of them at the
same time.
Now clad in the long white shirt and white socks, she pranced
girlishly around the stage, but not for long, because Dana had just
done the schoolgirl bit. She teased them but half opening the shirt
repeatedly, then, as she had done with the blazer, threw her
shoulders back and let it spill down her arms and off. Now she was
clad in just her tiny white lace thong and half bra. She pranced
about, then found the bar and swung around it. She undid the bra and
a shudder went through her as her breasts were bared to the room,
full and firm and a soft golden as the spotlight followed her
movements.
She backed against the bar, sliding her hands slowly up her body,
up through her black hair, then up the bar behind her, arching her
back, grinding her hips at them as she looked seductively out at the
audience. She twisted, grinding her pelvis against the bar, feeling
the cool steel sliding up between her breasts as she sank down onto
her knees, then onto her back, rolling over on the stage.
She pushed her bottom up, then let it sink as she pushed her front
up, letting her body undulate before them. Her heart pounded now as
her pussy throbbed with growing power. She had a small metal screw
beneath her tongue - one she always had to be careful not to swallow.
Now she took it out without the audience noting, and reached up the
bar. Their eyes were on her bottom as she swung it from side to side,
and none noticed her fingers inserting the small screw in a tiny hole
in the bar.
She turned, waggling her tongue at them, then turned again,
jumping up and gripping the bar high, pulling her body several feet
into the air, then turning with much practiced ease and letting her
head and shoulders drop down as she gripped the bar between her legs
and thighs. Now upside down, she squirmed on the bar, letting her
belly and thighs feel for the screw. She found it, pushed herself up
slightly, and hooked it beneath the waistband of her thong.
Then slid slowly down the bar, letting the screw peel her thong
off as her hands reached the floor and her body bowed back to slide
along it.
Naked! She basked in the knowledge. She was naked before a room
filled with men, all of them staring at her. She slowed her
movements, rolling her hips, tossing her hair. The fact she had no
pubic hair made her feel even more exposed as she strolled fluidly
across the stage.
Oh if the guys at the station house could see her now!
She slid to all fours, crawling, cat like, towards the bowl like
bath at the front of the stage. She let her body slide over the rim
and down into the curved plastic bottom as the small jets of water
sprayed up over her. She rolled over and let her legs spread as the
warm water flowed over her shoulders, arching her back, and running
her hands languorously over her slick, wet skin.
She sat up, letting the lights play over her wet, glistening body.
She shook her head playfully, showering some in the first row with
water droplets, then rose on her knees, caressing her body
suggestively, rolling her hips. There was a small plastic "stool" at
the centre of the "tub" and she sat in it, legs spread, head and hips
rolling to the music, fingers moving through her wet hair.
And then she was up out of the tub, strolling along the stage,
water dripping down her body. She reached the bar again, removing the
screw - so the next girl wouldn't bitch - letting her wet, naked body
undulate, pushing her bottom out, then twisting around to hold the
bar against her back.
And then she was done, prancing across the stage to the curtain
amid the applause.
"Nice show," Cheryl said, slapping her wet bottom as she passed.
Ming yelped and gave a little jump, but only glared as she took
the towel Brandy tossed her and began to dry off.
She had been working at the Pioneer club for two years. She only
worked a few hours a week, if that, enough to safely exorcise the
wild sex heat which built up in her body without fear of getting a
reputation among the people she worked with. The club liked it as
well. It wanted variety, but it wanted people it could rely on for
their discretion. She was a known quality, and a nice change from the
many blondes who pranced across the stage.
"Room Nine," Carol said. "Don't bother to dress.
Ming snorted, and picked up a hair dryer. She quickly and roughly
dried her hair, brushing it back furiously as the hot air howled..
She pulled on a thin, black silk dress which fastened up the side,
then hurried up the hall.
The only rule about contact with the members was discretion.
She pushed open the door and dropped the smile from her face.
His name was Carruthers. He did not want her to smile. He wanted
her to cry. The man was a racist and a pig and she heartily disliked
him. Yet he reminded her too much of the British man who had taken
her virginity, and a dark side of her found her loins growing moist
and heavy at the sight of him. Her nipples were instantly erect
against the thin dress, and she dropped her eyes in pretended shame
as he pushed the door closed behind her.
"Hello, little slut," he whispered, his hand running over her
body.
She did not reply, keeping her head downcast. She knew he did not
want her to talk.
"I've brought a friend for you," he said.
This did cause her to look up, and she gasped in surprise, not
having seen the other man. He was very large, with a shaven skull, a
fat,squashed nose, enormous shoulders, and a gap toothed grin. He was
also blacker than her hair.
All in an instant she knew what Carruthers intended. He would have
the Black man take her, enjoying himself at her presumed debasement.
To a man like him having a big Black man take her would be almost
like seeing her being used by an animal. In truth, there was
something to that in her own culture, for there was little respect
for Blacks among Asians, and even against her will she felt herself
instinctively reacting to that.
It would be degrading to let a black man have her. She knew that
was foolish but that was a simple fact of life for a girl raised in
Hong Kong, however sophisticated. And yet the thought of giving
herself to such degradation made the heat flare within her lower
belly. To be used by this man, this brute of a Black man, while
Carruthers watched - . She shuddered in helpless arousal.
But she did not show it. Instead she lowered her eyes and shook
her head, backing away.
The Black man moved behind her, and she gasped as he gripped her
hair and forced her head back.
"Gonna fuck you, bitch," he breathed in her ear.
Her hands instinctively reached up behind her, grasping at his
wrists, and he seized them, pinning them together behind her head and
easily holding them in place with one hand, a hand which also tugged
at her hair.
Her back arched, she moaned softly as Carruthers sat to watch the
show, her chest heaving as she stared at him, as the Black man's
other hand came around her to run slowly over her chest and knead her
breasts.
He undid the clips at the side and the dress came open to reveal
her golden body. A bolt of raw lust ran up Ming's spine, and she
barely kept herself from groaning aloud as one of the Black man's big
hands slid up and down her body. His hand was warm and rough.
He kneaded her breasts roughly and pinched her nipples between his
thumbs and fingers, then ran his hand down between her legs, stroking
a sausage like finger along the length of her warm, moist sex.
He drew his hand back and pulled at her dress, drawing it off her
arms while shifting his grip to her elbows. She groaned in pain as
her shoulders were forced back, but made no protest. She had never
spoken to Carruthers, not a word. He wanted it that way.
The Black man produced a silk belt and Ming felt the smooth
material wrapped around her arms, forcing them back harder. She felt
the loop tighten, and moaned as her elbows pulled back further and
further, finally pressing together. The knot was tightened, and then
another loop went around her arms beneath her elbows, firmly binding
them together. A final loop went around her wrists, joining her
hands, and then he seized her hair, forcing her head back roughly,
turning her, bending his own body forward to mouth her breasts.
She gasped softly, trembling in his powerful grip as his lips
moved over her breasts, his tongue lapping wetly at nipples which
crackled with sexual electricity, his teeth digging into her flesh as
he sucked hungrily.He picked her up as though she weighed nothing and
threw her onto the bed. He strode forward, peeling off his shirt,
then shoving down his pants. He was enormous, she saw, with wide,
excited eyes. But of course, Carruthers would have insisted on that
to whomever he had hired the man from.
The Black man grinned lewdly at her as he moved to the edge of the
bed. He gripped her thighs, his enormous hands all but encircling her
legs, and forced them casually and painfully wide, exposing the
narrow slit of her sex.
"Goin' fuck you, bitch!" he spat in an accent she was sure was for
Carruthers benefit.
There was something obscenely degrading about the two of them
performing this filthy act for the benefit of the old racist. Yet
despite her indignation at the thought it only made her more aroused,
and she let her body tremble as she looked at the man, gasping as she
saw the size of the cock he pressed against her.
Yet his cock glistened, and she knew he had oiled it, and as he
rubbed the head along her pink flesh she felt a sense of relief and
renewed heat, grunting as he pressed himself against her, as her
pubic lips spread wider and began to ache at the pressure.
"Fucking bastard old racist," she gasped in Cantonese.
The cock pushed into her, and she groaned aloud as her sex lips
strained to envelope the mighty girth of it. She felt it pushing
deeper, sliding slowly in and out as the man worked her pussy open.
The oil helped, as did the sex heat filling her, but he was still
enormous, and she was a slender woman who had never borne children.
The pain threatened to overwhelm the pleasure and heat for a time,
but as he worked himself deeper it began to fade, and then there was
only the heat.
Carruthers watched with obvious vindictive excitement, and her
mind burned with shame and excitement that she would let him so
degrade her. The Black man's cock continued to pump slowly as he
worked himself even deeper, and she felt herself cramping and aching
as the head of his uncircumcised cock drove to the very limit of her
elastic pussy - and continued.
"Oh fuck!" she gasped in Cantonese. "Fucking old pervert. You only
wish you had a cock like this!" she gasped.
She rolled her head to stare at him, knowing he would like the
sight of her spitting insults at him - so long as he didn't
understand them.
"Bastard! You can't fuck a girl properly, can you!" she gasped.
Tiny cocked white man!
She groaned again, twisting and writhing as the Black man thrust
himself mercilessly up into her body. Did he know it was an act, she
wondered, or did he simply not care? She was bound tightly,
completely at their mercy. They could do anything they wanted, hurt
her, and she could not protect herself.
The thoughts were like oil on the flames consuming her body, and
her back arched helplessly as the Black man finally buried the last
of his mighty cock inside her quivering belly.
"Yes! Fuck her! Pound her!" Carruthers growled.
He didn't, which led her to believe he was much more than the dull
street thug he was pretending to be. Instead he lifted her upwards.
His big hands still held her thighs in a tight grip, and he pulled on
them, holding them wide, raising her hips and bottom up off the
mattress, forcing her slowly up and down on his cock, displaying his
strength and power and her helplessness.
He began to move more quickly as her sex adjusted to the size of
him, and then he slid forward atop her, all but covering her body
with his, her legs sticking out helplessly to either side as she
groaned under the heavy, male weight, his musk in her nose, his
breath against her cheeks as he began to thrust more sharply.
The thrusting made her ache, but in a delicious, terrible way. She
gasped and groaned with every hard thrust, with the sharp, bruising
ache of his cock as it punched at her insides. Hishands moved through
her hair and forced her head back, his big mouth coming down on hers,
his tongue thrusting into her mouth as his hips began to work faster
and faster.
She responded with helpless lust, her tongue pushing up against
his, the two of them twining together as his muscled bottom rose and
fell faster and faster and she was battered beneath him.
Her gasps rose to soft cries of pain and pleasure, his cock
pounding her in a gloriously brutal manner.
He drew back, panting, eyes dark with hunger. His hands moved
roughly over her body, kneading and squeezing her breasts, then down
onto her thighs, forcing them painfully wide, turning her body
slightly so Carruthers could have a better view. And then he resumed
his hard stroking, kneeling between her legs, holding his body off
hers by pressing down on her thighs, his cock slicing back and forth
through her aching pussy lips as an excited Carruthers looked on.
There was a freedom in being able to speak without anyone hearing.
Oh they could hear the words, of course, but they would know nothing
of what she said.
"So good!" she gasped. "Oh fuck! Oh fuck it hurts! Oh God it's so
deep! Fuck you Carruthers, you bastard! Fuck me, Negro! Ram it into
me! Kill me with your giant Black cock!"
Her head thrashed and twisted from side to side, her hair spilling
back and forth over her face as she gasped and moaned and writhed to
the hard pounding. She would be bruised tomorrow, would find it hard
to walk straight, but for now it didn't matter. All that mattered was
the glorious fucking she was being given.
"Ash, fucking hell!" she gasped, her insides both aching and
burning.Fucking Hawaii! Rape me, Haiku so the Gawk Lo can feel like a
man!
Neither would understand the derogatory Cantonese terms for Blacks
and Whites, yet it was wild and thrilling and daring to shout them
into their faces. She clenched her teeth and arched her back
violently, then cried out as she came, her insides battered and
bruised, flaming around the hard black cock pounding up into her
belly.
The Black man's hands tightened on her thighs and he forced them
up and then back, jamming her knees against the mattress on either
side of her chest, leaning his body in as he continued to hammer
himself against her, his cock like a spear driving painfully deep
into her sex.
She stared up at him through glassy eyes, still shuddering and
writhing to the power of the orgasm twisting through her mind and
body. He leered, forcing her legs back still farther, gripping them
behind the knees, then sliding them down to her ankles. He leaned
over her, his heavy body forcing her feet back over her shoulders,
back against the sides of her ears.
And then he began slam his body down against her with seeming
total abandon. Carruthers punching his fists enthusiastically into
the air before him as the heavily muscled man crushed the slender
girl beneath him, her endless gasping warbling groans and cries
filling the air as the bed creaked beneath them.
"You like that nigger cock, baby!?" the Black man gasped. "Fuckin'
chink!"
He lowered his mouth to hers, biting at her lips and tongue,
thrusting his tongue into her mouth as his hips hammered wildly down
against her upraised bottom.
The orgasm which had been spiraling downwards exploded anew. Ming
had only a moment to realize, with a dazed delight, that for one of
the few times in her life she was going to experience multiple
orgasms, when her mind was shattered by the concussion force of
sensory overload screaming through her mind. It shook her like a rag
doll, and the white hot fire of orgasmic pleasure burned through her
blood and bone and sinews, soaring, falling, then soaring again.
She groaned weakly, her glazed eyes fluttering through the screen
of her own hair as the Black man drew back. She lay exhausted on the
bed, chest heaving, skin gleaming with sweat, bruised and battered
and dazed, her legs spread wide.
"Did you like that gentle love making, my dear?" Carruthers asked
in smug delight.
"Gawk Lo," she panted.
"I'm sure that's not very complimentary," he said with a chuckle.
"It's Chinese for white nigger," the Black man said. "Or the
equivalent."
"Do tell?" Carruthers seemed amused.
Those other things, Hawaii, Haiku, they're just plain old nigger.
Ming squirmed in embarrassment as the man looked down at her,
gasping as he grasped her hair and half dragged her out of the bed to
stumble on her knees at his feet.
"Well, how rude of the young lady," Carruthers said. "I'm sure
you'd be justified in punishing her for her harsh words."
You think so?
He lifted her arms up high behind her, forcing Ming to bend
deeply, gasping as her shoulders ached.
Maybe you're right.
The room was fully equipped for any kind of activity the members
might choose to engage in, and that included the thin chain the Black
man clipped to the silk binding her wrists, and the ring in the roof
he slid the chain through to force her arms up even higher and hold
her in position.
Ming hadn't bargained on this, and panted wildly as the man took a
long, thin quirt from a cupboard and swung it back and forth several
times. She did not like pain, and did not normally accept it from any
of the men who purchased her services. Yet such was her embarrassment
and discomfort she did not feel able to protest. She had been so
overcome by the man's act that she had been sure he was an ignorant
thug who could not possibly know anything about her language.
Carruthers smirked at her as he rose and moved before her. Ming's
head hung low, her tangled hair a curtain around her face. He slipped
his fingers through her silken hair and then yanked it up, lifting
her head. She cried out in pain, but an instant later he thrust his
cock through her open lips and over her tongue.
"Suck," he growled.
A shudder passed through her body. It was like old times;
helpless, used, and who knew what they would do to her?
She heard the quirt cut through the air, then felt the Black man's
hand moving over her bottom. An instant later she heard it again, and
her eyes bulged, her body jerking forward as she screamed into
Carruthers's cock. The quirt sliced across her bottom with stinging
pain, and her feet danced awkwardly on the rug as Carruther's drove
his cock forward.
Her tongue spasmed like a butterfly against his cock as Carruthers
pushed deeper into her mouth, and she gagged and choked as the head
pushed against the back of her throat. Another stinging bow from
behind made her cry out, the sound heavily muffled around the cock
filling her mouth. Her breasts wobbled and shook beneath her, and
Carruthers reached down to roughly fondle and squeeze one before
returning the hand to her hair.
Another slice of the quirt across her helpless bottom sent pain
ripping through her body. At the same time Carruthers gripped her
hair in two tight fists, one to either side of her head, and lunged
forward. She gagged briefly as the spongy head of his cock slid
across the little gag thingee at the entrance to her throat, but the
sharp, stinging pain from behind momentarily distracted her as he
head popped past and the shaft began to follow.
Because of the position of her head his cock had a straight line
right down her throat, and Ming stared in shock at the sight of it
sliding forward into her mouth. Her throat felt completely blocked,
bulging out uncomfortably as the spongy head slid deeper and the
shaft made the slick, narrow tube strain and stretch.
And then her face was being ground into his groin, her nose
crushed against his flabby belly as he pushed the last of his cock
through her lips. A part of her was filled with shocked, heady
excitement at taking his entire cock down her throat even as she
fought to control her body's instinctive responses. More sharp,
stinging blows across her bottom helped to distract her as Carruthers
ground her face into his pelvis, fingers tight against her scalp,
twisting painfully at her hair.
His cock drew back, and her eyes became crossed as she tried to
focus on the glistening, spit wet shaft sliding out of her mouth,
watching in dazed amazement as more and more of it appeared, knowing
it had all been in her throat.
It pulled free and she coughed and gulped in air as saliva
dribbled out of her mouth. He chuckled in amusement, rubbing the spit
wet cock over her face as he held her head steady. Another blow from
behind made her cry out, and he seized on the distraction to thrust
his cock back into her mouth. He jabbed it against the insides of her
cheeks several times, toying with her, then at another blow thrust it
firmly into her throat and buried it in a single long stroke.
Then he began to thrust, pumping his cock up and down in her
throat.
The Black man gave her bottom a final painful stroke of the quirt,
then threw it down and stepped closer behind her. She groaned
soundlessly as his hands gripped her thighs and forced them wider.
This put more pressure on her aching shoulders as her arms threatened
to tear loose of their sockets.
He had obviously become aroused by lashing her bottom, for she
felt his erection thrusting up into her sex once again, thick and
hard and long as it drove deep into her gut and began to pump, to
match strokes with Carruthers. She felt his hands beneath her,
enveloping her breasts, squeezing them up against her ribs, fingers
digging painfully hard into the tender flesh as he began to hammer
himself into her from behind.
"The little chink has a tight cunt," he said.
"Then use it," Carruthers grunted, pumping steadily in her throat.
Black dots began to sparkle before Ming's eyes as her chest burned
from lack of oxygen. Her eyes began to flutter and she swayed between
them, but then Carruthers pulled his cock free and she coughed
violently and gulped in deep breaths of air, gasping and moaning as
her body was rocked by the violent impact of the Black man's hips
against her bottom.
She almost didn't notice it when Carruthers, pumping his fist over
his cock, sprayed his juices over her face.
He stepped back, panting, and the Black man seized her hair,
yanking it up and back painfully as he redoubled his efforts. Her
entire body was shaking violently as he pounded himself against her,
and she cried out repeatedly as his thick cock punched deep into her
belly.
"You like that, bitch?" he growled in Cantonese. "You like that
nigger cock up your tight chink cunt?"
Ming could only gurgle and moan, the flames of sexual heat licking
at her mind as her eyes rolled back and she came again, the world all
but disappearing under a shattering haze of sensory bliss.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
--
-
From the ebook: The Detective, by Argus.
Argus books have been published in paper form by Virgin Nexus, Silver
Moon, Star, Olympia, Chimera, and Beeline. His ebooks are available
for download at http://www.ebookblue.com/