 “Light” Bondage
-- by lightswitch © November 2007

[(F/F, lesbian), reluctant/forced, interracial, Asian
(subcontinent) female, white female, bondage, fart, humiliation,
gentle snuff]

===========
A Thanksgiving story.

Synopsis: Two female clerks draw the unenviable task of putting
up the store Christmas decorations on Thanksgiving night, in
preparation for the holiday shopping rush Friday morning. A
misstep on a ladder brings a haughty blonde crashing down, to
become hopelessly entangled in the strings of lights.

Her pretty Pakistani co-worker sees an opportunity for
titillation and revenge.
===========

The Mal-Mart clerks huddled together fearfully – this was one of
the many moments they dreaded each year: The announcement of who
would be required to give up their holiday evening in order to
decorate the store for the start of another official Holiday
Season.

The Assistant Manager tried to look thoughtful as he scanned his
clipboard.

“Why does he bother?” Shimaila asked herself. “He already knows
who he’s going to select.”  The young Pakistani girl stewed
silently – every time, so far, it seemed as if his selections
were based on flagrant favoritism: Whomever was the least
popular, or whomever the assistant manager disliked, always
seemed to get the “short straw.”   Being an immigrant, she found
herself being selected for such duties often. “It’s not like you
celebrate American holidays!” the pimply-faced assistant manager
would tell her. “You’re not giving up that much! The other clerks
… well, it would be a major imposition, for them!”

As if it wasn’t a major imposition on *her*! Of course she was
giving up a lot!  *Anyone* appreciates time away from a menial
job!  *Everyone* would resent having to work beyond normal hours,
late into the evening!  It had nothing to do with holidays!
Besides, Shimaila *was* a US citizen – she had been for almost
eight years, now!

“I’m as American as any of them!” she fumed.

OK, OK!” the assistant manager announced loudly. “Working the
Winter Holiday decoration shift tonight will be …”

“Please not me!” Shimaila prayed. “Please not me! Please not me!”

“Shimaila!” the assistant manager announced.

Damn!!!

Shimaila swore to herself, livid with rage. He’d done it again!
The idiot was a known bigot, especially after 9/11. “He hates me
because my skin is dark and because of my origins,” Shimaila
thought, bitterly. She silently cursed the perpetrators of 9/11 –
things had been rough before, but after 9/11 … it seemed as if
anyone from a Muslim country was viewed as ‘Guilty until Proven
Innocent.’

The assistant manager continued, unaware of the turmoil he had
caused the pretty Pakistani girl … unaware and uncaring.

“… and Tiffany!” he finished.  The group gave a collective gasp,
but quickly silenced itself.

Tiffany?

She was the last person any of them would have expected to be
tagged with such an onerous duty. Tiffany was a beautiful,
vibrant, bleached-blonde with a figure that made men putty in her
hands. True, she was an arrogant bitch, but her stunning good
looks always insulated her from any fall-out.

What had happened? How could such a popular girl have been tagged
for “Black Friday” decorating duty?!?

With a start, Shimaila realized that the adolescent, tin-pot
dictator of an assistant manager must have made an overture
towards the gorgeous blonde … and been predictably shot down.
This was probably his petty revenge.

“That’s *bullshit*!” Tiffany shouted, stomping her foot. “You
can’t do that to me!”

The assistant manager gave her a mean grin. “I can,” he snorted,
“and I have. Either do what you’re told or submit your
resignation.”

Tiffany scowled but swallowed her anger.  She may have been
beautiful, but like the rest of the clerks, she needed this
minimum-wage job.

Buzzing in obvious relief, the rest of the clerks filed up to
punch out, eagerly chatting about their holiday plans.

“This could be … interesting …,” Shimaila thought. She evaluated
the fuming blonde standing nearby, who was gritting her teeth in
anger.

Tiffany was absolutely gorgeous, Shimaila had to admit. “She’s
everything I’m not,” the pretty Pakistani sighed to herself. “I’m
pretty, yes … but she is *beautiful*. She has long, flowing,
golden tresses … I have black hair that my parents insist I wear
pulled back in a tight bun. She has beautiful, pale skin that
looked as soft as white silk. I have dark-brown skin …” Shimaila
stopped. Her skin really wasn’t bad at all … it just looked so …
mundane … in her eyes, next to the alabaster beauty named
Tiffany.

“She is tall and full-figured,” Shimaila sighed to herself, “with
gravity-defying tits as big as cantaloupes, while I …” She looked
down regretfully at her own pear-sized breasts. “While I can’t
even decently fill a B cup.”

She realized that she was being overly hard on herself. She was
just envious of the vivacious blonde. Still, there was something
about the fact that Tiffany was sharing her fate that made her
feel better.

“At least I will get to string the lights again,” she thought.
There was something cheerful and uplifting about stringing the
yards and yards of lights around the ceiling and pillars –
something that seemed to brighten her mood, each year. It almost
made up for the tedium of dusting off and arranging the heavy,
cumbersome North Pole character props – now *that* was tedious
work!

“Fuck!” Tiffany snarled, as the crowd left. She wheeled to stomp
back into the retail area of the store.  “We might as well get
this over with,” she grumbled. “I’ll put up the lights, you get
the North Pole scene crap from storage.”

With neither discussion nor negotiation, the haughty blonde began
pulling huge piles of wires and lights from the stacked boxes.

Shimaila blinked back tears.

“What?!?” she agonized, silently. “I … I have to do the North
Pole props? I don’t even get to do the lights, this year?!?”
This was unbearable!

“Tiffany?” she ventured, voice quavering. “Is it … would it be OK
if *I* did the lights?”

The arrogant blonde arched an eyebrow at her. “Sure,” she
sniffed. “You can help me with the lights. Then you can do the
props.”

Shimaila’s heart sank, realizing she had now committed to
one-and-a-half jobs. But she gamely started helping Tiffany
untangle the miles of holiday lights that had been knotted and
twisted from last year.

“Geez!” Tiffany gave an exasperated sigh, “it’s like someone went
and knotted these damned things on purpose!  They’re almost
impossible to untangle!”

Shimaila nodded, and patiently continued unraveling the huge
piled of knotted lights, her slender fingers deftly teasing wires
free. Tiffany soon lost interest and began taking the untangled
cords of lights that Shimaila freed and stringing them up.

The pretty Pakistani girl kept working at untangling the lights
until a call from her co-worker interrupted her.

“Hey, Paki!” Tiffany called. “Be useful and hold the ladder for
me!”

Shimaila’s cheeks burned with indignation at the racial slur.
“Bigoted bitch!” she muttered. But she went over to steady the
ladder, in spite of her humiliation.  Tiffany climbed onto the
25-foot ladder, straining to position the cord of lights with one
hand and maneuver the staple gun with the other. After a half
hour or so, the arrogant blonde called out to Shimaila again.

“Follow me up!” Tiffany commanded. “I can’t stand heights and the
top of the ladder is shaky. Hold my hips to steady me.”

Seething with indignation, but outwardly unprotesting, Shimaila
did as she was ordered, holding her breath as she climbed the
ladder. The floor was beginning to look more and more distant.

“It’s only about 20 feet up,” she told herself.

Tiffany had already strung a thick, chaotic web of lights between
columns, a design that looked ugly and haphazard to Shimaila. But
she bit her tongue, not daring to voice an opinion. The pretty
Pakistani looked down, at the tangled wires and wondered how in
the world they’d untangle that mess *next* year.

Tiffany was stretching to build her web higher, towards the
ceiling.

Steadying the blonde’s hips, Shimaila found herself mesmerized by
the upskirt peek of Tiffany’s bobbing white ass … hovering inches
above her face. The pretty Pakistani caught her breath as she
stared at the white girl’s gorgeous backside. Such a full, round,
tantalizing derriere … !

So … arousing!

“Is this how boys felt when they looked at women?” Shimaila
wondered, as she stood, frozen and confused, on the ladder.

“Why is the sight of her rear having such an effect on me?” she
wondered. “Is it possible that I am bisexual? Or is Tiffany so
stunning that her beauty transcends gender?”

Shimaila couldn’t look away, continuing to stare up Tiffany’s
skirt, watching the fabulous, creamy globes of her co-worker’s
ass cheeks work and undulate, the thin fabric of the blonde’s
blue thong-panties lost up the white girl’s ass crack.

The pretty Pakistani almost moaned with arousal.

So close … !  Carefully … tentatively …

Unable to resist, she climbed another step, bringing her face
almost in contact with the beautiful blonde’s mouth-watering ass.
Unfortunately, there was a trade-off: She was closer now, true,
but also higher -- Tiffany’ short skirt now completely blocked
Shimaila’s view.

“Doesn’t matter,” Shimaila breathed. “She’s still gorgeous … even
with her skirt on!”  She was so close that her nose was gently
brushing the blonde’s skirt-clad ass. Unfortunately, the pretty
Pakistani’s face was also so close that she could no longer focus
her eyes on that beautiful, impossibly rounded backside. What to
do …? Enjoy the close proximity, but give up the visual
stimulation? Or lean back a little, sacrificing the intimate
closeness in order to continue drinking in this magnificent
sight?

“Are you staring at my ass?”

The cold voice broke the spell Shimaila was under and brought
crashing back to reality. She looked up to see Tiffany glaring
down at her, in revulsion.

“You are!” the haughty blonde sneered in disgust. “You’re ogling
my ass, aren’t you!?!”

Shimaila shook her head in desperate denial. “No!” she protested.
“I mean, I was looking, but I didn’t … I wasn’t … You’re so
beautiful that … !”

Mortified, Shimaila clamped a hand over her mouth.

Had she really just said that?!? She felt her face flush with
embarrassment.

Looking up, she saw Tiffany still sneering down at her. The
haughty blonde was smiling, but it was a cold, mean smile.

“Why you little lez!” she laughed. “You were! You were getting
off, sniffing my ass, weren’t you!?!”

Shimaila felt tears of shame well up in her eyes. “No!” she
cried. “I … I wasn’t *sniffing*! I was … “ What *had* she been
doing?

“Getting excited being so near another woman’s backside,” she
admitted to herself, with a flush of shame.

“Gods,” she whispered. “What a degenerate I have become.”

Tiffany smiled coldly. “That’s OK, Paki,” she chuckled. Her voice
smoothed, seductively. “You like my ass?,” she asked, jutting her
beautiful rear out a bit. “You think my ass is sexy?”

The cruel blonde reached down to the back of her skirt, about
halfway between the waistband and hem, and pulled up.  The hem of
her skirt raised, revealing her pale, practically bare ass.

“Is this what you wanted?” Tiffany purred, invitingly. “To look
at my ass? Do you like looking at my ass, Paki?”

Shimaila’s heart was in her throat, eyes glued to that beautiful,
creamy ass, so close to her face.  Tiffany jutted her ass back
further, so that Shimaila’s nose gently grazed her pale ass
crack.

“You like my ass, Paki?” Tiffany repeated. “You want to kiss it?”

Shimaila was paralyzed, torn between revulsion at Tiffany’s
cruel, degrading mockery; the shame of being discovered; and the
intense arousal of having that gorgeous, milky-white ass so
close.

“Kiss it,” Tiffany urged. “Kiss my rear, Paki, so I can tell
everyone that the Paki slut kissed my ass … literally.”

This hurtful jibe pierced through the lust that fogged Shimaila’s
brain.

“No,” she choked, trying to pull back.

The vicious blonde grabbed the pretty Pakistani girl’s head and
pushed it between her ass cheeks.

“I said kiss it!” she hissed, thrusting her ass back as she
pushed Shimaila’s head deeper.

The pretty Pakistani girl’s world went dark as her face was
enveloped in the large, soft ass cheeks of the cruel white girl.
Shimaila was overwhelmed with feelings of lust and revulsion,
wanting to fight back against the haughty white bitch who was
subjugating her, but overcome by the waves of desire that gripped
her.

But the erotic sensation of her face being imprisoned in the
beautiful white girl’s ass was too strong.

Shimaila’s lips puckered and she gently kissed Tiffany on her
asshole.

“Oh God!” the blonde moaned, obviously aroused with power. “She
did it! I can’t believe the little Paki slut actually did it!”
The pressure on the back of Shimaila’s head intensified.

“Again!” Tiffany urged. “Do it again!”

Overcome by lust, Shimaila responded, ardently pressing her lips
against the arrogant blonde’s anus. Crazed with desire, the
pretty Pakistani extended her tongue and began passionately
rimming the white girl’s tightly puckered asshole.

“Oh, you little *slut*!” Tiffany cooed, grinding her ass harder
against the pretty Pakistani’s entrapped face. “You dirty little
perverted *slut*!”

Shimaila didn’t care. She didn’t care if she turned out to be a
lesbian. She didn’t care about the degradation of kissing the
arrogant white bitch’s ass. All she cared about was the
overwhelming sense of arousal that had taken command of her body.

“Please,” Shimaila gasped, lifting her flushed face from between
the white girl’s ass cheeks. “Please, let us get down from the
ladder. Let us enjoy one another’s bodies!”  She reached up to
stroke the haughty white girl’s slit and found it swollen and
moist.

“What?!?” Tiffany laughed.  “You wanna have sex? You?!? With
me?!?” Peals of raucous, malicious laughter rang against the poor
Pakistani girl’s burning ears.

“I’ve let women go down on me before,” Tiffany admitted, “when it
served my purpose. But you? A dirty, perverted Paki? You don’t
deserve to taste my exquisite pussy! And I sure as hell am not
going anywhere near your nasty, diseased gash!”  Shimaila’s face
burned with embarrassment and tears of humiliation welled in her
eyes.

“There *is* one thing you *are* very well suited for,” Tiffany
chuckled, forcing the pretty Pakistani girl’s head back between
her the pale, round globes of her ass.

“Eat my ass, Paki!” Tiffany snarled. “Eat it real good!”

Sobbing with humiliation, Shimaila complied.  She pushed her
tongue up the haughty blonde’s shit chute, probing deeply as she
heard Tiffany moan in pleasure.

“Oh, that’s good,” the blonde groaned, sliding a hand down the
front of her thong to finger herself. “Who knew it could be such
a turn-on to get your ass licked by a perverted black lez?”

Tiffany balanced precariously on the ladder; with one hand
pleasuring herself and the other forcing Shimaila’s face deeply
into her pale ass, she was unable to hold onto anything to ensure
her balance.

“Here’s a little Christmas gift,” the haughty blonde laughed,
forcing Shimaila’s face deeper into her ass as she gave a
strained grunt.

Tiffany farted.

Not just a discrete little burp of a fart, either. The bitchy
blonde let loose with a huge, long, hot fart that burned wetly
against the pretty Pakistani girl’s face and forced its way into
her mouth and nose and down her throat.

Shimaila gagged and tried to pull away, but the cruel blonde had
a firm grip on the back of her head, not allowing escape.  The
pretty Pakistani girl tried to scream as the noxious gas filled
her lungs and permeated her being. Tiffany continued to hold her
victim’s head captive as her wide-open asshole continued to expel
a rush of gas into her unwilling victim’s face.

The pretty Pakistani girl’s head was spinning and she saw stars.

“I’m dying!’ she thought. “Tiffany is going to poison me with her
foul, toxic ass-gas!”  She felt her legs go weak and she clawed
at the white girl’s hips for support.

But her nerveless fingers found none.

The ass-tainted methane overwhelmed the Pakistani girl’s senses
and she passed out, falling from the ladder.

Losing consciousness as she fell, Shimaila saw Tiffany, unable to
free her hands from her own panties or to let go of the fainting
girl’s head in time, lose her precarious perch on the ladder and,
with a horrified shriek, begin falling.

“Good!’ thought Shimaila, as darkness closed over her. “At least
that arrogant white bitch will die, too!”

* * * * *

Consciousness came slowly, along with the foul smell of ass that
seemed to have seeped inside her and taken residence. Gagging and
retching, Shimaila turned on her side and vomited.

Mind still reeling, she finally recognized her surroundings: She
was in the Mal-Mart, lying amid the Styrofoam wreckage of the
igloo display.

How had she gotten there?  What had happened?

“Oh yeah,” she murmured, groggily. “Must have been when I fell
off the ladder.” Damn, how lucky was it that the display had
broken her fall?!?

Memories returned and she burned with shame as she recalled her
perverse subjugation by the blonde bitch’s ass.

“Could I really have done that?” she moaned, in shame. “Could I
really have kissed and licked that blonde bitch’s ass?!?” She
shuddered in revulsion and wept in humiliation. That bitch,
Tiffany! She …

Tiffany!

Shimaila’s eyes shot open.

They’d fallen off the ladder!  from about 25 feet up!  It was a
miracle Shimaila was still alive … had Tiffany …?

Shimaila sprang to her feet, her eyes scanning the floor for her
co-worker’s bleeding body.

But she didn’t see it.

“Where …?” she muttered.

“About time, you skank!”

Shimaila looked around. That had been Tiffany’s voice – there was
no mistaking the bitchy tone!  But where was the arrogant blonde?
 The pretty Pakistani looked around, turning in circles.

She seemed to be alone.

“Up here, Einstein!”

Shimaila looked up.

There, dangling about 12 feet above the floor, was Tiffany:
Hopelessly entangled in the web of Christmas lights she had
strung earlier.  The attractive blonde looked as if she were
faking a skydiving stunt: Arms and legs spread wide as she swayed
in the tangle of cords.

“Don’t just stand there with your mouth open, you stupid Paki
slut!” the entangled blonde snarled. “Get the damned ladder and
get me down from here!”

Shimaila rushed to fetch the overturned ladder and dragged it
back so it stood alongside her dangling co-worker.  The pretty
Pakistani girl climbed and tried to work the entrapped blonde
free.

“Ugh!” Shimaila grunted. “You are *really* knotted up here!” She
assessed the situation.

The majority of the tangled cords were wrapped around Tiffany’s
extremities -- her wrists, shoulders, and ankles – with a few
more wrapped around her thighs, waist, and chest.  While the
dangling blonde did sport some nasty cord-burns, she seemed
remarkably unharmed.

“Quit gawking and get me down!” Tiffany demanded. Shimaila
hurried to try and free her. Tiffany did not appear particularly
grateful.

“Hurry up, Paki!” she sneered. “Maybe I’ll let you kiss my ass
some more, if you do a good job and get me down quickly!”
Shimaila’s face burned with shame. Tiffany remembered.

What an ungrateful bitch!  Shimaila succeeded in removing the
cords from Tiffany’s chest, waist, and thighs.

“Would you like that, Paki?” Tiffany goaded, not letting up.
“Would you like to push your tongue up my asshole again?”

Shimaila stopped and regarded the entangled blonde. A cold,
burning point of pure hatred flared inside of her.

“If I get you down,” Shimaila stated, “you are never to speak of
that again, understood?”

The cruel blonde laughed.

“Never speak of it again?” she asked, in astonishment. “Never
tell anyone what a filthy little lez you are? How you kissed my
*ass*? How you were so perverted that you actually tongued my
*asshole*?!?”  Tiffany’s cruel laugh rang in the pretty Pakistani
girls’ burning ears.

“What makes you think I will help you down, when you are such a
bitch?” Shimaila demanded, frowning and fighting back tears.

Tiffany smiled confidently.

“Because if you don’t, I won’t limit myself to the truth. I’ll
tell them you were such a pervert that you sucked shit right out
of
my asshole!  I’ll tell them you played with yourself as you ate
my shit!”

Shimaila burned with humiliation and anger.  That bitch! “But …,”
the pretty Pakistani thought, “Tiffany would do exactly that, if
crossed.”

Would anyone believe the arrogant bitch?

With a stab of despair, Shimaila realized they would. Every one
of them would take Tiffany’s lurid fabrications as gospel,
believing them over an immigrant Pakistani girl’s protests of
innocence.

What was there to do except give in … to let Tiffany win?

Again.

Shimaila regarded the cruel blonde, dangling in front of her, and
her resentment and hatred flared white hot.

“Looks as if you’ve got me,” Shimaila sighed, in resignation.
“You win. Just like you always do.”  The blonde’s smug smile made
Shimaila’s bile rise. Even bound and helpless, the blonde snake
was able to evade harm and hurt her.

Shimaila glared at the bound blonde, angrily. Tiffany seemed
*really* wrapped up in the tangled light cords … totally
helpless. Soon, Shimaila knew, she would free the bitchy white
girl.

“But not before you get a taste of what it’s like to be degraded
and humiliated,” she hissed.  Still standing at the base of the
ladder, she shucked off her panties, pulling the white cotton
fabric down over her firm, dark thighs.

“What’re you going to do, Paki?” the trussed blonde sneered.
“Strip for me? Do a little dance for me? Only trouble is: I’m not
a lez, like you. You can’t seduce me like I seduced you.”

Shimaila climbed up the ladder to Tiffany’s level.

“I don’t have to seduce you,” the pretty Pakistani girl
whispered, softly. “You’re tied up and helpless – trussed like a
Thanksgiving turkey!”

Shimaila smiled, stroking the blonde’s lovely face as she watched
the little color the white girl had drain out of her.

“You can’t!” Tiffany gasped, eyes wide with horror and mouth
agape. “You wouldn’t!”

Shimaila smiled and hiked up the hem of her own skirt, thrusting
out her own firm, dark ass. Turning, she jutted her ass gently
against the blonde’s face.

“Ewww!” Tiffany tried to recoil in revulsion, but dangling as she
was by the cords of lights, she had no traction. Shimaila
maneuvered the suspended blonde’s face into her dark, moist ass
crack.

She saw the white girl’s body stiffen with horror, before it
thrashed wildly, trying to escape. But the hapless blonde’s
efforts only entangled her further.

“You like that, white girl?” Shimaila mocked, crushing the
blonde’s face into her pert, brown ass. “You like having your
face in my ass?”  The pretty Pakistani girl felt hot tears of
indignation and humiliation drip between the white girl’s cheeks
and her own ass cheeks.

“Yeah,” Shimaila murmured, feeling herself grow moist. “Cry for
me, white girl! Let me feel your tears! Are you sorry for what
you did to me? Yeah, I’ll bet you’re sorry now, aren’t you?!?”
She ground her ass against the suspended blonde’s face, gratified
to feel a moan of revulsion that was all but smothered inside her
ass.

“You wanna kiss my ass, white girl?” Shimaila asked,
conversationally. She felt the blonde shake her head violently in
negation. “I’ll bet you do,” the pretty Pakistani purred. “Go
ahead, Tiffany … kiss my lovely, brown ass.”  The blonde was
convulsed with sobbing, but Shimaila felt no kissing on her
nether regions.

Annoyed, the pretty Pakistani girl released the white girl’s face
from her ass and turned to grab a hold of the dangling blonde.
Shimaila formed a loop with a nearby cord of lights and wrapped
it tightly around the bound blonde’s throat.

“Are you going to kiss my ass?” Shimaila asked, deftly worrying a
knot of cord around the blonde’s right ankle. The pressure eased
slightly; as did the support the tangle had provided. Shimaila
watched in satisfaction as the cord tightened around the white
girl’s throat. The blonde’s eyes widened in abject terror as she
realized what was happening.

“No!” Tiffany choked. “You … you’d really do it, wouldn’t you!
Please! No! Don’t … don’t let me hang!”  Tears flowed down her
lovely face. “I’ll … I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Yes,” Shimaila cooed softly, “I know you will.”

Turning, the pretty Pakistani girl again pushed her pert, brown
ass into the white girl’s face.

This time, there was no hesitation – Shimaila sighed as she felt
the press of full, pouty lips lightly kissing all over along the
inside of her ass cheeks.

The lips finally settled on Shimaila’s sensitive anus. The pretty
Pakistani girl’s legs trembled as she felt the entrapped white
girl’s lips press firmly against her tightly puckered, brown
asshole.

“Oh FUCK!” Shimaila thought, gasping at the electric jolt of
pleasure that ran through her. The feel of the beautiful blonde’s
lips pressed enthusiastically against her asshole felt so … so …

So perverted!

So dirty!

So nasty!

So …

“… good!” Shimaila murmured, reaching back to press the weeping
white beauty’s face in even more firmly. Is this what Tiffany had
experienced when Shimaila had succumbed to her own lusts?

“I love this,” Shimaila murmured, grinding gently on the blonde’s
face. “I absolutely love this!” It felt unreal – the most
beautiful, popular girl in the store … and Shimaila had the
girl’s face wedged deeply up her ass!

Slowly, the pretty Pakistani girl’s hand crept down to her own
dark bush and her fingers snaked between her slick, swollen
labia. “No wonder Tiffany hadn’t been able to keep her hands out
of her pants!” Shimaila smiled, thrilling at the debauched
pleasure she felt. “I’ve never felt so confident … so in
control!”

“You are mine,” she whispered, luxuriating in the sensations of
having her ass worshiped by the beautiful blonde.

Shimaila opened her eyes, in sudden realization. Tiffany *was*
hers! Hers with which to do whatever she wanted!

Shimaila slowly … reluctantly … pulled her ass from the white
girl’s face. Tiffany’s pale features were still achingly lovely,
in spite of her reddened eyes, smeared make-up, and tear-streaked
face.

Shaimaila went to the washroom and dampened some paper towels,
then returned to gently cleanse the bound girl’s face.

Tiffany looked at her with grateful, but questioning eyes. “Thank
you,” she murmured.

“Shh!” Shimaila whispered. “Don’t talk.” She sat on a ladder rung
so her face was on the same level as the suspended blonde’s.

The pretty Pakistani girl took the white girl’s face tenderly in
both hands and gently pulled her forward, until their lips met.

Shimaila felt the suspended girl’s body tense, momentarily, but
slowly give in to the sensual kiss. Tiffany’s beautiful, full
lips parted, allowing the pretty Pakistani’s tongue to slide
inside and explore the moist recesses of her mouth.  The
entangled white girl moaned and Shimaila smiled as she continued
to dominate the blonde beauty’s mouth.

Never breaking the seal she had on the white girl’s lips, the
pretty Pakistani reached under and slowly began unbuttoning
Tiffany’s blouse. At this angle, the white fabric was stretched
thin as it tried to support the weight of the white girl’s torso
as well as contain the blonde’s bounteous breasts. As Shimaila
undid the second button, gravity won and the next four buttons
popped in rapid succession, allowing the white girl’s large
bra-clad mammaries to bounce out.

Shimaila suppressed a smile as she continued removing Tiffany’s
blouse and reaching up to unclasp her bra.  The bra fell away and
the blonde’s heavy melons swung free, dangling heavily from the
suspended girl’s chest.

Shimaila stroked and fondled Tiffany’s big boobs, smiling as the
white girl’s large, pink nipples hardened gratifyingly under the
Pakistani girl’s dark, insistent hands.

Tiffany gave a low moan of pleasure, which was lost in Shimaila’s
enveloping kiss.

The Pakistani girl slowly stripped the suspended white girl,
tearing fabric where the cords were too binding. The thong
panties were easy, sporting side ties that came easily undone.

Then she continued her kiss.

The pretty Pakistani girl dominated the aroused white woman for
several minutes with her sensual kiss.

Tiffany gasped as Shimaila finally broke their kiss and looked
longingly at the pretty Pakistani, who descended the ladder to
admire the view of the lovely, nude blonde, dangling in the
air above her head, like some giant white bird.

Shimaila smiled broadly and trotted off to the pharmacy area, but
soon returned, carrying several packages.

At the base of the ladder, she opened two plastic-wrapped boxes
labeled “Personal Vibrator.”  She popped batteries in each and
climbed the ladder.

Tiffany was looking at her dully, with mild apprehension. “What …
what are you going to …?”

Without warning, Shimaila reached up and pushed the side of the
suspended white girl’s head, sending her gently spinning …
rotating.

When Tiffany’s feet faced her, the pretty Pakistani gently halted
the blonde’s spin.  Tiffany strained feebly, but was too tightly
entangled to even affect her own motion.

“I want you to feel good for what’s coming next,” Shimaila
murmured, gently tracing the tip of the large vibrator along the
white girl’s exposed, blonde-thatched slit.  She smiled as she
saw the vibrator’s fat tip part Tiffany’s slick, glistening cunt
lips. “That excites you, doesn’t it,” the pretty Pakistani
whispered, teasing the dangling blonde with the vibrator. “You
like being tied up and penetrated, don’t you, Tiffany? You like
being dominated by a dirty, filthy, ‘Paki,’ don’t you!”

To her surprise, she heard the bound blonde whisper a response,
barely audible.

“Yes!”

“What was that?” Shimaila asked, pausing her molestation, unsure
if she’d really heard what she thought she’d heard. “I didn’t
quite hear that, Tiffany.”

The blonde girl convulsed with sobbing. “I said ‘Yes,’” Tiffany
cried, her entire pale body flushing in humiliation. “I … I like
being dominated by you.”

Shimaila smiled, slowly.

She pushed the vibrator all the way up the blonde’s dripping
pussy, then deftly removed it and slid the now lubricated dildo
up the white girl’s ass.

“Aaaaaahhh!” Tiffany gasped, her sphincter tightening
involuntarily on the intruding object as she arched her back in
shock.  Shimaila grinned and left the vibrator jammed up the
bound girl’s anus. Removing the other vibrator from its box, she
slowly slid that one up the blonde’s hungry vaginal hole.

“Uhhhhh!” Tiffany grunted, her body straining in its bonds.

Shaimaila took her own cotton panties and tried to tug them over
the white girl’s thick thighs and wide hips. But the tangle of
cords around Tiffany’s ankles made that impossible. Shaimaila
took a box-cutter and slashed the sides of her panties, then
tied them around the white girl like a diaper. It was
tough going, since the pretty Pakistani was much more petite than
the voluptuous blonde, who threatened to burst out of the
now-overstuffed cotton panties at any second.  But finally,
Shimaila got
them secured.

Moving the band of cloth between Tiffany’s legs just enough to
plant a light kiss on the blonde’s fevered pussy, Shimaila
replaced the panty fabric and quickly flicked the switches on the
base of both vibrators.

The effect was, if you’ll excuse the pun, electric.

The white girl’s body went rigid as the whirring vibrators took
control of her senses.  The too-tight panties effectively
prevented the vibrators from being worked loose or ejected.

The entangled blonde seemed paralyzed with pleasure, quivering as
she hung in the cords.

Shimaila slowly twirled the suspended white girl around so that
her head was facing her again.

The pretty Pakistani cupped the dazed blonde’s chin and raised
the white girl’s head.

“You like that, don’t you,” Shimaila said. It was a statement,
more
than a question.

“Y-y-y-y-yeh-yes,” Tiffany stammered, a rivulet of drool escaping
from the corner of her mouth. “Oh G-g-g-god, y-y-y-yeh-yeh-yes!”

Shimaila smiled. “Show me,” she whispered. She climbed up a few
steps.

Bracing herself on the ladder, she pulled the suspended white
girl forward, pressing the beautiful blonde’s face into her own,
dark, moist pussy. “Show me how much you like it!”

Without prompting or coercion, she felt the lust-crazed white
girl bury her lovely face in Shimaila’s dark, aromatic muff and
begin feverishly lapping the Pakistani girl.

Shimaila moaned in pleasure. Was this really happening? Was she
really getting eaten by this beautiful white girl?  Grabbing the
bound blonde by her ears, the pretty Pakistani began rubbing
herself lustily against the helpless white girl’s face.  Soon,
there wasn’t an inch of Tiffany’s beautiful, pale features that
wasn’t coated with Shimaila’s thick, fragrant juices.

For her part, Tiffany’s body seemed to be hinged at the waist:
The white girl’s upper body and lower body were jerking and
rotating like a marionette controlled by an epileptic, but moving
in
completely independent directions. She was giving a low,
non-stop, guttural groan which in no way impeded her oral
attentions to the pretty Pakistani’s pussy.

Shimaila felt Tiffany scream into her cunt, as the entangled
white girl convulsed in orgasm. The pretty Pakistani ignored her
victim’s climax and, keeping a firm grasp on both Tiffany’s ears,
continued to fuck the beautiful blonde’s face, concentrating on
her own pleasure.

The white girl’s body was actually vibrating, wracked
by one climax after another.  Her pale legs were rigid and
wide-spread, as were both arms.  Shimaila could feel the blonde’s
mouth, drooling wetly into her dark pussy as she continued to
sadistically pound the white girl’s face with her own quivering
pelvis.

Tiffany could only whimper mindlessly, as Shimaila climaxed. The
pretty Pakistani girl screamed out loud as she cruelly ground the
white girl’s face against her spasming pussy.

“Oh fuck!” Shimaila gasped. “Oh *fuck* yes!”  She bobbed the
dangling white girl’s head up and down as she continued to rub
herself on the dazed blonde’s face.

After what seemed an eternity of ecstasy, Shimaila reluctantly
let go of the bound blonde and let her swing free.  The pretty
Pakistani lay back against the ladder, gasping for breath as the
swaying blonde continued to grunt in non-stop orgasm.

“God, that was good,” Shimaila murmured, reveling in the ebbing
pleasure and growing afterglow. Good? That was the absolute best
climax she had *ever* achieved.

And she had done it with Tiffany. To Tiffany.

“Tiffany …” Shimaila murmured, closing her eyes and smiling. Had
she really done it? Had she really seduced, dominated, and fucked
the most beautiful and most popular girl in town?

* * * * *

Shimaila awoke, groggy, but sated. Her pussy had never felt so
satisfied!

She looked around. She was naked, lying on the floor, but
unharmed. The cold tile had finally been uncomfortable enough to
awaken her.

“How in the world did I get down from the ladder?” she wondered.
“I must have climbed down and passed out.”

God, but that orgasm had been fantastic! It must have been so
powerful that it had caused her to lose consciousness,
afterwards!  How long had she been out?

Shimaila looked at her watch. It was a little past 3:45 a.m.

The store had closed its doors at 9, to prepare for Black Friday
… the weird sex play had started about a half an hour to an hour
later …

“I’ve probably been out for at least five hours,” Shimaila
realized. “Maybe longer!” But it had been worth it!

Five hours?!?

With a start, she remembered Tiffany.

Looking up, Shimaila felt her heart tighten with apprehension.

The beautiful blonde still dangled overhead, entangled by the
Christmas light strings.  The crotch of her panties was stained
with cunt juice, which dripped slowly from the middle of the dark
patch as if from a stalactite in a cave.

The white girl’s body twitched periodically, still suspended
about 12 feet in the air. Her lovely features were lax, as she
stared vacantly down at the tiled floor. Tiffany drooled
continuously, through her full, slightly parted, sensual lips.

Shimaila hurried up the ladder.

“Tiffany?” she said, shaking the burned-out white girl gently.
“Tiffany? Are you OK? Can you hear me?”

There was no response from the drooling vegetable hanging in
front of her.

With growing dread, Shimaila realized that Tiffany was gone.

“I guess five hours of non-stop orgasm would fry anyone,” the
pretty Pakistani thought, ruefully.

But, what to do,now, she wondered, a growing feeling of panic
overtaking her. She’d go to jail for sure if anyone found out!

“I have to make sure no one connects me with this,” Shimaila
decided.  She stripped her panties off the comatose white girl,
taking a moment to hold them to her nose and inhale deeply.

“Such a pity …” she sighed, with a shudder of arousal.

Shimaila descended the ladder and punched out her time card.

She spent the next two hours cleaning up, finishing the North
Pole scenery, and wiping down any surface that might have a
sticky fingerprint.

Finally, she went up the ladder again. She replaced the blonde’s
thong panties, re-securing the still-whirring vibrators, but
making certain she didn’t leave any sticky fingerprints on the
exposed plastic.

She caressed the beautiful vegetable’s lovely face and gently
kissed her slack lips.

“I’m sorry, Tiffany,” she whispered, loosening the knotted cords
around both of the white girl’s ankles. "All I can do now is
release you."

The blonde’s feet swung free as the loop of cord around the
beautiful white girl’s throat took the extra weight.

Shimaila slowly climbed down from the ladder, weeping.

* * * * * *

The next morning, the crowds began gathering at 6 for the 7 a.m.
opening.  The assistant manager arrived promptly at 7 and worked
his way through the throngs.

“OK! OK!” he shouted. “Let me through and I’ll unlock the doors!”

The crowd slowly parted and he fumbled with a big ring of keys.
When he finally got the doors unlocked, the crowd burst through
like a cracked dam!  The mob rushed into the store, ready to
indulge in serious consumerism, but stopped short, once they got
inside.

There, hanging amid a web of lit Christmas lights, was the body
of a beautiful, almost-nude blonde – arms outstretched as if in a
mocking parody of a crucifixion.

The newspapers would hypothesize suicide and/or erotic
asphyxiation.

Shimaila remained silent in the ensuing days, refusing to join in
the base speculation and gossip, but longingly recalling the
sensation of the beautiful white girl’s tongue on her ass and
pussy.
