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CAR SHOPPING
(MMM/F, Mind-Control, Humiliation, Celebrity Character)

Cindy Silver Eyes
http://www.asstr.org/~Cindy_Silver_Eyes/
cse1986@rocketmail.com

*****

Do you like my story?  So, what is it that you like then?  The one thing that you really like the most?  
Please let me know:  cse1986@rocketmail.com (That’s the only pay-off in writing, really...!)

*****

This story is largely influenced by Cowgirl’s Shower – Please check out the original work:  http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Cowgirl/Shower%20.txt 

*****

Rachel Green had walked into Manhattan Chrysler, putting forth as confident a look as possible.  She’d memorized every little piece of statistic she’d need, every number that would be necessary – she had studied the damn blue book as if getting ready for the SATs…  

She hated car-shopping. But she was making good money, and it was time to replace the old, ugly thing she drove, with a real vehicle.  She was always intimidated by car salesmen, and always got screwed by them - the last time she’d bought a car, she’d paid through the nose.  This time, though,  she’d done her homework:  They weren’t gonna get her again…

At least, that had been what she thought half an hour ago – yet now, she had no idea what had taken place…

“This way to my office, honeypot, and we’ll finalize your purchase…” the salesman led the young woman towards his office.

Mark Carpenter had been a salesman at Manhattan Chrysler for 15 years – and he loved his job.  He’d marched over towards Rachel as soon as the young woman entered the building, lest another shark grab the prey.  Of course, it was an unwritten rule in this particular dealer that Mark always got the female customers, especially the lone, young, female customers…  He had a knack for persuasion, dangling that famous lucky coin of his before their pretty eyes…

Rachel had listed her demands at once:  She wanted a Grand Cherokee, Silver-Blue, with this and that option – and she was prepared to pay for it no more than what the blue book said, not a penny more.

The salesman had listened to her as if tolerating the amusing rantings of a six year old girl – all the while checking her out in rather obvious fashion.  Mark had discovered from early on that, contrary to the cautious attitude of a typical salesman, treating women as mere sex objects in obvious fashion was a surefire way of disarming them – uncomfortable and self-conscious, they lost the will to negotiate hard.  Which was why he’d loved seeing Rachel in such discomfort at his leering eyes.

“A Grand Cherokee?” he’d asked, flipping his lucky coin in the air.  “That’s really a big boys car – but don’t worry…  I’ll put you in a nice car …”

Rachel had meant to object – but, then, the salesman sounded right, even though he was such an obvious asshole!  A Grand Cherokee was a boys’ car, after all.  Perhaps, he could help her identify something

“What’s your name, darlin’?” the salesman had asked.  Rachel hadn’t liked the tone he took with her – and where did he get off calling her honeypot or darling?  She’d answered all his personal questions anyway, feeling like she was in some kind of interrogation.  

“Here’s the beauty I had in mind for you” the salesman had finally said, pointing at a tiny neon-green hatch-back – it must have been one of the ugliest cars Rachel had ever seen.  

Except, after ten minutes of listening to the salesman, she’d found herself agreeing to buy it – at a $42,000 price tag... 

As soon as she signed the papers in Mark’s office, regret washed over her:  Had she bought a lemon?  She’d bought a lemon, hadn’t she?  An ugly, over-priced lemon.  She almost couldn’t believe a second-hand, ugly, tiny car like that could cost so much, but that was all she could afford.  Rachel wanted to go home and cry – it was obvious now, the damn car salesman had gotten her again, she was screwed once more.  And it was too late to get out of it.

“Let me just have the keys, and I’ll be on my way” she said in a breaking voice.  Here she was, a successful young woman, yet she felt like a pathetic little teenager – why was she always so dumb with cars?  

“Not so fast, my dear Rachel” answered the salesman.  “You got the car – but you have to earn the keys, still!”, he said flipping his lucky coin.

Rachel couldn’t recall the extremely persuasive details of her predicament, but after 10 minutes of Mark explaining things to him, she knew she absolutely had to do whatever it took to get those keys – otherwise she’d have walked out of the dealer, with no car, and no money.  

And soon enough, it was obvious what it would take to earn the keys…  

And soon enough, Rachel was on her knees before the salesman, sucking his cock, despite her utter shame.  Mark enjoyed the fancy blow-job he got from the young blonde...  and he cummed loudly, right down her throat.  Rachel swallowed like a good girl:  She absolutely had to get those keys.  

But Mark wasn’t nearly done – the little blondie would have to work harder to get her keys.  

Soon, Rachel was completely naked, bent over Mark’s desk.  Right before her face lied the signed sales agreement of her new car, as the salesman fucked her from behind – so that she could get her keys…!

A half an hour later, Mark was through, regretful that he could not go on longer...

“Can I please have my keys now?” Rachel begged pathetically, dying to get out and go home and cry herself to sleep.

“Well, we are all through here, honeypot” Mark said as he buttoned his fly.  “But I gotta send the keys over to the repair-shop – they are checking the car to make sure we don’t stick you with a total lemon!  You wouldn’t wanna be screwed, would you?”  Mark laughed in amusement.  “So, you’ll have to get your keys from those guys”…

...

By the time Rachel left Manhattan Chrysler, she’d been gang-banged for three hours straight.  Shivering and hysterical, she managed to climb into her new car – the tiny, second-hand, neon-green hatchback, for which she’d paid $42,000.  She’d thought it was the right car when Mark made her sign the documents, but now she knew she’d have to tell her friends she decided to go for something affordable and got a real good deal.  It was going to be embarrassing enough to have traded her car for something worse – she’d be a laughing stock if her friends learned how much she paid for it.  

She noticed a sticker on the back window: 

“MANHATTAN CHRYSLER RIDES ME HARD!”

She drove home hysterically, trying to convince herself that she really liked her new car, and what could possibly be so wrong about having a little fling with a bunch of mechanics and salesman at the auto dealer?  She noticed the envelope on the side seat after she parked.  She opened it curiously – and almost fainted at what she found:

There they were, pictures of her, more than a dozen, naked, on her knees, giving blow-jobs, getting fucked…  

The pictures came with a note:  “Rachel, here are some pictures we took today.  We’ll just use them as pin-ups in the repair-shop for now.  That is, so long as you live up to the conditions in your service & sales contract – yes, that’s in the envelope, too.”  

Amidst her fear, Rachel noticed a bulky document in the envelope. She hardly recalled all the paperwork she’d signed, so desperate she’d been to get her keys.  The note continued:

“Per your service agreement, you will come to Manhattan Chrysler once a week to have your car serviced.  It costs $500 a visit.  It’s a lengthy process so be prepared to spend most of your Saturday with us – it should be a fun time.  Also, please be advised, as per the agreement, you are not allowed to sell or trade your car, or purchase your next car, at any dealer other than Manhattan Chrysler!”

Rachel wanted to scream and cry in dismay.

With teary eyes, she read the end of the note:

“On a separate note, please do recommend us to all your girl friends – we’d be glad to ride them, too!  Sincerely – your sales rep, Mark.”

Cindy Silver Eyes

http://www.asstr.org/~Cindy_Silver_Eyes/

cse1986@rocketmail.com

*****

Do you like my story?  So, what is it that you like then?  The one thing that you really like the most?  

Please let me know:  cse1986@rocketmail.com (That’s the only pay-off in writing, really...!)


