Spellbound Beauty My Manager Part 2
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Spellbound - Part Five free porn video
[Note: This is another story written long ago, and forwarded to my by my
French friend Avaro. For those who remember, C.C. created the world of
Clinton Crayle. He asked me to write a story in a Raymond Chandler hard-
bitten detective style, and this is it. So enjoy. And for the details
on the whole "She-Devil" thing, check the reviews. TOXIS.]
Spellbound - Part Five
by TOXIS
The California coast cuts in and out, sometimes high cliffs and in other
places beaches. God couldn't make up his mind if he wanted the Andes or
Atlantic City. Playa San Remo was a little spit of sand at the foot of
serious cliffs. Once, it had been the launch point for the offshore
gambling boats. The boats are gone and the fancy seaside joints that
catered to the roulette spawn that flocked to them were gone as well.
Playa was the haven for bikers, druggies and the pain cult set. Perhaps,
the craziest of all was it's sheriff, Dana Bixlee. I say it a lot but
it's true, California grows its own weirdies.
Bixlee was not much to look at, never spoke much at all. When I knew him,
I was downing a fifth a night, polite as you please. It was the thing I
had to do because I had nothing else to do. I was leaving a club in
Pasadena when I saw this guy, short and rumpled, trying in a stiff
drunk's way to be very macho and really just trying to make it to his car
without rubbing his nose allover the pavement. I thought about it.
Nothing good ever comes from helping a drunk. The least damage to hope
for is that the dry cleaner can get the stains out.
I got Bixlee into a cab and maybe saved his life. I didn't know who he
was. He was just a fellow drunk and I thought that maybe if I did this
for him, God would send somebody to take the keys out of my hand when I
was too drunk to know any better and might go kill somebody. If I had
known then what I later found out, I'd have started his car for him.
I began to doubt that my '76 Duster was going to 'make it. The
transmission was shot. It could barely take the hills and the brakes were
starting to burn on the downsides. I was beginning to get terribly tired
of authenticity in drama. I made it into Playa with my brakes smoking,
got out of the car and got busy looking helpless.
A couple of the mechanics from the auto body came right over. Wouldn't
you if a twentiesh babe in a hot pink, string bikini and white high
heels, big tits, great ass and long blonde hair was looking for a little
car help?
"Gee, like you know," I said to the gathering citizens of Playa, " I
bought this car, you know, so I could go surfing, but, ...but, .. it's
like so totally useless.." I waved my tanned arms, making my tits jiggle,
in girlish desperation. Always give the audience a good show.
"Well, looks like the little lady could use some of our car savvy. Got
any money, honey pie?" I looked in my purse and I looked at the grinning,
grease covered troll who was eyeing me. I had twenty dollars and a
cancelled credit card. "Couldn't you just fix it? I know Daddy will send
you a check."
A biker came over from a bar down the street. He was huge. "What's
fucking going on, asshole?"
My grease monkey friend tried to climb inside his shopfloor issue boots.
"Nothing, Hawkie. Nothing at all, little babe here needs some car work
but don't have the money for it. I was just making her a proposition."
"Sure you were. Now you just pretend she told you to stick your wrench up
your ass and go tighten your nuts before they falloff."
Apparently automotive humor was popular in Playa. Hawkie got a big laugh
from the assembled masses. He put his paw at the small of my back and
began to guide me down the street.
"Need some money", he asked. I admitted I did. I was in the biker's bar
now. Hard looking cycle mammas were giving me the evil eye. I had better
get out of here. "Always could use another lady. Could always give you a
chance to join up. Like that? Being a biker's old lady?"
Bixlee had been a middle man, selling Troy's feminized males to a
bordello in northern Mexico. Bikers out of Playa made the run, she-males
dressed as bike-bitches on the back of their bikes. I had to find out
what evidence Bixlee had and what the bikers knew. probably, I was here
to burn down this bar and the police station. I already knew that Sheriff
Bixlee operated out of his own home. Was this the right biker gang and
the right bar?
"Gee, ah .. I don't know if .. " I had to play reluctant and more than
slightly dumb. If I was going to be broken in "against" my will, Bixlee
was sure to be there. "You're the one with the car that don't work and no
one's gonna' give you a job doing nothin' less I says they can."
Hawkie pulled me up tight to his chest. I could smell the combination of
sweat and grime and motor oil on his leather vest, on his skin. "So I
don't think you have much choice. Do you?"
I let myself blush red, something easy to do thanks to the ever
entrancing Dr.' Troy. I made no move to resist as Hawkie cupped my big
breasts and felt my ass. I even smiled nervously when he told me too.
I winced. The needle was working on my right thigh on the outside. My hip
was already colored in and now the black outline going down to my knee
was being finished. A cobra started on the inside of my knee and twined
around my thigh with its hooded head, fangs flashing, bold on my right
bottom cheek.
My left breast had a spider climbing down into my cleavage and a red and
green anklet circled my left ankle. Carmen was getting ready for our
fight.
I was dressed in knee high black leather boots with six inch heels. My
hair was pulled back by a leather thong into a pony tail. Carmen was
wearing leather pants and a vest, t heavy cycle boots on her feet. As a
made lady, she had the right to clothes.
Darwin's only mistake was that he should have forgotten the animals. He
was talking about his Mom, Aunt Polly, his sister, the girl next door.
Women are the survivors and the losers are the men and the women who like
men too much. Biker women can take men or leave them. Maybe a little girl
love is a good idea. Can't get pregnant. No bozo fucking the shit out of
you and leaving you high and dry just 'cause he got off already. From one
who knows, don't let Darwin kid you,it's the women you have to watch.
I circled to the left. Carmen kept her right foot back, advancing with
her left, like any good boxer closing off the ring. I circled faster but
in my high heels I couldn't get very far. Carmen stepped in and pushed me
back.
Hawkie had let the old ladies flip to see who would get a shot at me.
They all seemed anxious and ready to beat the shit out of me. It's not so
easy to make a fight of it when you're a little over five foot, tits and
ass, and weigh just over a hundred pounds. I looked like child compared
to most of them and of all of them Carmen had been the one I voted least
welcome to tussle with.
I had heard about her when they were doing my snake. She had been
smuggled across the border at Nogales with her mother. They had wound up
in a five dollar bordello in Tucson for a couple of years. Carmen had run
away and hooked in Brownsville, San Ysidro and EI Paso, a border town
queen until she had met the cycle gang on a run back dropping off she-
males.
In her initiation fight, she had not only won. She had fist-fucked the
lead old lady of the day, cunt and ass, carved her initials in the girl's
face and kicked her into the road dust. Fistfucking was her trademark. No
one had ever seen the poor bitch loser again.
Carmen tossed a left like a man. it came off her hip low, first her hips,
then her shoulder and then her hand last to fly. The hook was aimed for
my ear. I got under it and planted my heel on her shin. The shiny patent
spike rode down the bone of her leg.- I could feel it catch and rip on
her skin. Blood darkened her pants.
Near her ankle the leather split and caught my heel. I could feel my foot
twist. Carmen grabbed my boot and spun me around. A fist in my back sent
me flying. The wood of the table rubbed my cheek raw as I smashed into
it. I kicked back blindly and caught some part of her.
Carmen grunted but kept coming. I picked up a baseball bat. I choked up
high and hard. There was no chance I would have the chance to knock her
out with one swing. Carmen backed away and then darted in. I swung at her
and missed. Carmen leaned out of the way and ducked in and under my
attack. I swung and again and again and Carmen had her hands on mine. We
wrestled but I was too small, too weak, too overmatched. She flipped me
on her knee and began to spank me.
I kicked and screamed but I couldn't break her grip. She was blistering
my ass. I couldn't believe how often she was able to strike. Here it
comes!
I could feel her fist worming into my M-X induced vagina, past the
knuckles and into the wrist and then imbedded inside me! Her other hand
went to my rear and soon I was double fisted.
I was being held over her head, supported by the fists in my body. My
tattooed legs scissored in the air. Carmen tilted and turned me at her
whim, bouncing me, making me scream as she opened and closed her fists.
"Who's lead lady, bitch?", Carmen demanded. I had to do something to stop
this. "You are! For God's sakes, You are!" I begged. The problem with
being helpless I had learned was that no body gives a shit about you if
you are and no body needs to give a shit about you if you are not.
I was totally at her mercy and the only reaction from the crowd was
amusement. If I split from vagina to rectum, they would probably have
applauded. Pain cheapens people. It makes them think that they are big
because they don't hurt and that people who are hurt are small and
worthless. I could see the pain thrill rush around the room.
Like rancid smoke drifting under the harsh light, pain jollies wafted
from one shining face to the next. Old ladies tortured their own breasts
as they watched. Bikers had rock hard cocks denting their jeans. It was a
heavy metal day for the tanned locusts by the gentle shores of the
Pacific Ocean.
Carmen threw me to the ground. Lying beaten on the floor, my ass
bleeding, battered by the fall, I felt like I had finished carrying an
anvil and sat resting in the shade. I didn't last. Her hands tore at me
as she dumped me by her feet. "Let's get her ready for her initiation." I
was strapped to a pair of stocks but instead of my wrists and ankles, it
caught my tits and thighs. A glowing skewer set in a brazier of hot
coals. Carmen came up wearing a welder's glove.
I screamed my voice hoarse as they pierced my nipples and welded heavy
chrome rings in place. Carmen pierced my vagina, each lip and the
clitoris, hanging more wide and heavy rings of gleaming chrome welded
shut. Now I was on my hands and knees. There was a line at each end. The
last I remember I was being hosed down and put on my knees again. I woke
up, dressed in leather, my head shaved bald. I was an old lady.
Bixlee hadn't made the festivities. I had done it all for nothing but I
thought about it. Just as well, I couldn't take the thought of him
watching what had been done to me. still as Sheriff of the peaceful town
of Playa, he had to ensure that I was a good citizen.
He sat at his desk, his pants open and his cock in my mouth as he
explained how Playa was. All small towns have their own rules but they
usually don't have their own dictator.
"We have a very quiet and law- abiding town. And I am the Sheriff. Always
have been. I was appointed by Mr. Seigal, ... did you ever hear of Mr.
Bugsy Seigal?" I shook my head as it went up and down. I was far too
young and dumb to know anything about that.
"Well anyway, Mr. Seigal was a man of vision and he appointed me Sheriff
to see that the lawless elements didn't spoil Playa's natural beauty."
Bixlee had his hands on my bald head, guiding me. "I like nice girls like
you. No chasing, no taking you out to dinner and hoping for a quick feel
at the front door, nossiree!" Bixlee came across as this product of the
great Southwest. All twang and folksiness but I knew he came from
Buffalo.
"The bikers, they don't care who sucks their dicks. Girls, boys, boys who
look like girls, it's all the same to them." At the mention of the last,
I pretended to be startled. Bixlee seeing my shock started to warm to his
subject. "Oh my yes, little Missy, we get a pretty steady stream of sissy
boys all dressed up and pretty as any girl. Usually have quite a set of
knockers and most still have cocks and balls but shrunken, you know.
Hormones or something."
Bixlee took another sip from his beer. I had been sucking him off for
over two hours now and he hadn't shown the slightest interest in getting
off yet.
"See, they get sent down from L.A. Oh, they all say they've been
kidnapped and such but what man would let all that get done to them?"
Mentally, I shoved a double dose of M- X into Bixlee's flat ass. My mouth
was getting tired and sore, my tattoos stung and my tits hurt from all
the motion. "So I put them up for a few days until Hawkie can take them
off my hands." I had the pieces of the puzzle. I knew who made the runs
but I wasn't looking to kill witnesses. Just destroy documents, photos
that could be anonymously leaked.
Bixlee was getting excited, talking about seemed to be his favorite
subject. I took over and soon had him nice and limp and more open to
suggestions about what I wanted to do. Sure, he had pictures. From a book
lined wall, Bixlee took down an old photo album. I might have found it in
five minutes or five weeks. Inside were all sorts of photos of maybe
twenty or so different males, fully feminized. But none of these people
were famous.
Apparently, Dr. Troy kept the wealthy and famous ones for herself,
consider them long term investments for a rainy day. The unknowns, the
nobodies who had nothing to offer but their fresh, female bodies were
sold fast, take the quick return and run. And they were sent running down
to Mexico never to return.
I oohhed and aahhed at how feminine they looked. I rubbed my ringed
nipples on Bixlee's leg and felt him get hard allover again as I talked
about his she-male photo collection. Bixlee was guiding me again, more
forcefully, much quicker, wanting a very fast result. Not to thrilled
about the price I was paying for this information, I antied up in full. I
had enough to know how to leave Playa.
I dressed in the new jumpsuit that had been made for me. It was mostly
black leather but with lots of special features. A mesh insert showed my
cobra decoration. The sides of my tight leggings closed with straps that
were held closed by heavy chrome padlocks. A chromed chain ran through
grommets across my tits and locked by padlock between my tits. The
padlock rested between my tits like a kinky pendant. I wore the
obligatory spike heeled boots and a studded dog collar. Your basic biker
bimbo ready for sun and fun in scenic California.
Bixlee was at the bar. They had been drinking most of the day so it was
easy to get a bottle and fill it with gasoline. I poured a little into
his library window. I went in back and stuffed some rag into the bottle
mouth. I dropped the lit Molotov cocktail inside before the flames or
smoke could be seen and hurried back to the bar.
When the fire was noticed, I was dancing with two other girls up on the
go-go platform. Bixlee started crying. He tried to go into the burnig
house to save his photos. I cold hear him calling for- help. But they
held him back. Hawkie led the bikers out to watch. Like I figured, these
human lice wouldn't care if your home burnt to ash as long as they had
someplace to drink and pass out. But that was on the list too.
I poured gasoline from the second bottle behind the bar. I left the
bottle lit and tilted against the wall. When it exploded, it would fall,
sending burning gasoline across the floor. I jiggled and clinked my way
to the cycles. There was a stripped down Triumph, primer black, with the
key in the ignition. No one heard the engine kick over in all the
commotion over the first fire.
I was nearly out of town when the second bottle torched the biker bar.
Now there was activity. I heard cries for water and help. And cries from
people who spotted me making for the first and longest hill back up the
highway and away. I ran flat out as fast as I could and turned inland
towards Death Valley as soon as I could. I called Troy from a pay phone
near the national park. The sun was making my padlocks red hot. The
chains were burning my tits. And Carmen had the key.
By the time Troy got to me, I was hiding under a truck to get out of the
sun. She loved all my alterations and said it only made me more colorful
for my next, and last stop. My own office.
Trisha
- 23.12.2020
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