Old 04-30-2009, 04:57 AM   #1
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Default Rachel & Friends (Fiction)

THIS STORY IS IN FACT, PART OF MY PREVIOUS STORY, ‘THAT SPECIAL SOMEONE’. I have never gotten to finish it, however I have used that as an introduction, and here are mini stories, of Rachel and her friends. You can read these by themselves, or after you’ve read ‘That Special Someone’. (And if you haven’t read that yet, I’d suggest you read this one first ) The ‘Previously’ Section is just so that these stories can actually be ‘mini’. Some of these stories might not even have one.

Pain and Judgement

Previously: She had earned herself a punishment, by not trusting him earlier in the day, during a public breakfast humiliation scene.

I stared out the crowd of people on sidewalk. The sky was starting to slowly dim, and street lights would be turned on soon. I knew I had to hurry, because I can’t draw attention to myself. I just can’t. I turned around and stared at him. He wanted me to do it. He had explained everything already, but somehow, he has not managed to reveal anything. All I knew... was that this would be painfully good.

I opened the car door. A fresh breeze of air hit me, my nipples going hard, and I could feel my pussy already moistening. As I started walking, I turned back to him, one last time. He was still in the car, where I had expected him to be. Warm and safe. Ushering me to keep going.

I sighed and turned my head back to the restaurant. La RÈGALADE. I felt incredibly sexy, walking down this street, in such a fashion. Halfway down to the restaurant, I found out his plan. A couple of women were in the corner, dressed in similarly... to me. One was bent over a window of a car, talking to the driver.

“Oh my God. Hookers. I’m on a street frequented by hookers, dressed like a hooker.” I was horrified. Humiliation crawled up to my face, until my cheeks were hot and tears were in my eyes. I didn’t know why I was so strongly affected by it. There was something inherently different about being mistaken as a prostitute from being thought of as an easy woman, or a slut.

As I walked into the restaurant, I noticed one thing for sure. It was one of those restaurants that women don’t enter a second time. I had just increased the number of women to one. A sign on the door said ‘No Tricks’. Every face turned and stared as I walked, while a waiter led me to my table. If there were any customers who weren’t trying to undress me with their eyes, I couldn’t spot them.

A man with a darker shade suit pointed at the sign on the door without a word. That was a confirmation of everyone’s assumptions. I could feel tears in my eyes again, threatening to run freely and add to my embarrassment. I could not let myself cry again.

Without realising, the waiter had led me to a dark corner of the restaurant, a look of sympathy on his face. I thanked him quickly and let out a small smile. A breath later, the man with the darker suit walked over. I figured he would be probably be the manager.

“I haven’t seen you here before, miss. A quick rundown of our rules. If you are not eating or drinking, you are out. If you do any tricks, you are out. You got that?”

“I’m not...”

A large hand slapped down onto the table.

“Don’t go there... Do you understand?”

I felt a tear roll down my cheek. “Yes...” I heard myself whisper meekly, as he walked away.

I quickly walked to the lady’s room, and cleaned up my makeup, before walking out again. I felt a chill down my spine, as a breath of hot oppressive aura of cigarette smoke condensed against my neck.

“So missy... you up for a little fun?”

I almost felt a sense of relief, as a promise I made him, came to the front of my mind. I had agreed to claim to be a lesbian. A bucket of humiliation had washed over me then, but I was glad now.

“I’m sorry, my girlfriend wouldn’t approve,” I said with a smile.

“What? You mean you’re a l-.”

A hand seemingly appearing out of nowhere wrapped around the jerk’s wrist and squeezed hard. A second later, the waiter’s head popped up from behind the man’s body.

His eyes filled with tears, “Oweee. Okay, Paul. God damn, let go. I’m going now.”

And with that, he slowly stumbled away.

“Sorry about that, miss.”


----------NOW IN THIRD PERSON-------------


She took this opportunity to go to the lady’s room, as the area around her cleared off, to clean up her makeup, and maybe stir up a bit of arousal, to make this public appearance less frightening. As she fingered her pussy lips, she produced lubricant again, the aroma of her sex filling her nose. Now when she imagined him bending her over a table and taking her from behind, it had the desired effect. Her nipples hardened and her breath came in shorter gasps. Her cunt demanded filling, a need she left unfulfilled. After a few minutes, she stopped, feeling very wet and desperate. She washed her hands and flushed one of the toilets again.

As she sat back down at her table, she saw him walk in. Not alone, but with a woman, and holding a crop in his hands.

“How are you doing, Rachel?”

“Not too well. I really want to go now.”

“Not yet, Rachel. What’s bothering you?”

“They all think I’m a..... hooker. It’s so humiliating.”

The woman’s look was one of disgust. “And what’s wrong with being a hooker?”

Rachel looked at him... “I...I...”

“Answer the woman, Rachel. What is wrong with being a hooker?”

Shame overwhelmed her as she realized that she'd been judging the prostitutes for being who they were. "Noth…nothing…ma'am."


"If there is nothing wrong with it, why is it humiliating?"


"I…No…I guess it isn't."


He sighed, "No, that's not good enough. You did find it humiliating. Explain why. We're not leaving until you explain. The longer it takes, the more severe your pain is going to be. You're close to disappointing me."


"Please, I…" the look on his face stopped her. He had no intention of letting her escape this trial. "I guess I don't want to be thought of as a…a…a whore. I'm sorry."


The hooker would not let go. "What's wrong with being thought of as a whore?"


"It's just that…I mean… "


"Rachel. I really want you to understand this. Reach down inside and be brutally honest with yourself. Don't think about your answer, just say it." He took her head and looked into her eyes. "What's wrong with being a whore?"


"It's evil and degrading and…" It hit her like a ton of bricks, the reality of what she was saying and thinking. Her composure gone, she started crying, sobs punctuating her confession, "Master, I'm so sorry. I was judging her the same way vanillas judge us. Please forgive me."


"It's not my forgiveness you need, is it?"

"No, Master. You're right." She turned to the prostitute, "Please forgive me for thinking so badly of you. I…I…I acted like you weren't a person. I was so wrong."


She took Rachel's chin in her hand and looked at her. "No, I can't forgive you. It's not my place. The person that has to forgive you is you. Can you forgive your own prejudices? This won't be the last one you'll find. Until you can recognize, change, and forgive, you'll never be free of them. You've made the first step; you've recognized your prejudice. The next two steps are the harder ones. Can you change? Will you forgive yourself?"


"I…I don't know, but I'll try."


"That's all anyone can ask."

Carlos turned her head back towards him. "Rachel, it's time for your punishment. Part of your punishment is simply that you will be punished by this whore instead of me."


"Yes, Master."


He handed the crop to the hooker. "Rach, go to the lady's room with her. Accept what punishment she gives you. She knows your safe word."


"Yes, Master."

Rachel followed the woman into the lady’s room. The streetwalker carefully wedged the door, and locked it in, preventing any regular customer from entering. (Not that there would be many women around anyway) “Before I start, I need your consent, to having your ass whipped until you’re bawling your eyes off. I will stop when I feel like it, or when you safe word.”


“You have my consent. But can I please ask you a question first?”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Why am I a whore? I started hooking because there was no other way for a 16-year-old to support her invalid mom. Since she died, I've kept at it because it's easier than finding something else to do. Women generally don't turn tricks because they want to, they do it because they have to, or at least they believe they have to. That's why your attitude out there was so disgusting. You were judging a bunch of women as being less than people because they had no choice. Society is less wrong to look at you as being sick. After all, you do what you do because you do have a choice."


"I'm sorry. I was wrong."


"I know. It's a start. Not everyone is willing to admit their wrong. For you, there's hope. For most of my customers, there is none. They believe just as you do, or worse, and they have no idea how disgusting they are. Let's get this over with. Take your skirt off and hold on to the wall of the stall."

The lady bought the crop over and over her ass for more than 15 minutes, at full strength. There were immediate tears, and she could feel that she couldn’t hold on any longer. She wailed out loud, no longer caring if anyone outside could hear her. Her own opinion of herself was lower than any else could give her, she believed. The hooker stopped a few seconds afterwards, kicked the door open, and walked out, saying “Go back to your Master when you stop crying.”

She would never see her again.

It took several minutes for Rachel to dry her tears, and she redressed, cleaned up, and walked back to her Master.

“Thank you for having me punished Master. Is there anything else Master wishes of me?”

“Follow me to the car, Rachel.”

They drove in silence for 10 minutes as Carlos let Rachel, settle her thought. Her mind was in turmoil.

EPILOGUE:
She believed that the hooker was correct. Society had more justification for condemning her for choosing to live in a sexual lifestyle that many, if not most, people considered sick and perverted, than it did to look down in a similar way on prostitutes, most of whom have no choice they can see to avoid their fate. How could she, someone who chooses to defy society's norms so brazenly, treat those who have been thrown out of society's norms so callously? Yet, she didn't feel that she was sick for what she did. Who was society to judge her? Who was she to judge anyone? She thought back to the lists she had filled out for the auction and her contract. There were things on those lists that she'd been repulsed by. More, she'd thought that anyone who could do 'that' must be sick. Yet, others thought she was sick. What was sick, anyway? Who was she to condemn someone because they were aroused by being peed on? The more she thought, the more she realized that she was full of prejudices, many lurking beneath the surface, hiding themselves from her scrutiny.

-------------------------------------------

NOTE: I have purposefully NOT mentioned that it was her 'Master' before she broke down, to make it more interesting for those who hasn't read 'That Special Someone' yet.

Thank you Pingu for the kind-of awesome proofreading job.
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Last edited by LilAngel; 04-30-2009 at 05:25 AM.
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Old 05-01-2009, 01:36 AM   #2
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interesting story, I think you may hit an interesting spot with the whole prostitute thing. I'm curious what people will think I'm sure some will be for it, others against. this could turn interesting
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Old 05-06-2009, 06:53 PM   #3
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So, I WAS going to put this story in one section again, because I know that people like reading stories with an ending, but it looks like people only comment on the stories that doesn't have an ending. (Yes, I know comments aren't everything, but they are nice and I do write it for myself and blahblahblah... ) Anyways... for the story. It'll be in 3-4 parts.

Just by Candlelight

The hotel was brightly lit up, luscious green plants at every corner. Men with rich tuxedos and white silk gloves were pulling golden carts, filled with large suitcases. Women in elegant night gowns, sitting by candlelight, locking eyes with the people they love, gently sipping their glass of champagne in the Glass Restaurant by moonlight.

This hotel was expensive... far more expensive than everyday living family with an average income could afford. But her Master had chosen it. He had given her an opportunity, to give him something special. His words were still in her heart, and always had been, since the week before.

“Rachel. We have been together for almost six months now. I think it’s time we do something a little bit different. I am going to give you a special night that I can assure you, you will remember, forever. At 6 o’clock Friday evening, you will arrive at the Satin Hotel, Suite 586. Dress formally. You will have ten minutes exactly to initiate the scene. You may prepare yourself however you wish, and I will not talk during the ten minutes, unless I am disapproving. You’ll be away from home for the rest of the weekend. Pack whatever you need. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

And that left everything in the world of dominant, submission and fetish loose, and out in the open. What could she do? Had she learnt enough to please him? Impress him? Amaze him?

Her palms started to perspire under the white satin gloves, silky... and smooth against her skin. She had an elegant evening gown on, but that was just to blend in with the crowd. Her attire was about to get drastically different. Opening up the door with the hotel room key, she placed her small suitcase in the corner and began to unpack her gear.

As she undressed, she stared down the 42 levels below her, and onto the city. Filled with bustling people, desperately trying to get home, and feed their family; thinking about the ordinary lives the people had, that she once lived, but now couldn’t live without. The dark indigo night was lit up by street lamps, night clubs, restaurants, and the water by the shore was glittering in the moonlight.

“Perfect.” She whispered.

Rachel pulled open the heavy velvet curtains, and watched the boat full of vanilla couples, people, families and children pull out of the shore. She closed her eyes. Somewhere inside her head, the city was now silenced.

Rachel luxuriates in her nakedness, standing in front of the window, surveying the lovely evening scene beneath her.


Rachel draws her bath, and slips beneath the surface of the scented water. The warm water dances against her flesh. The swirling bubbles of the whirlpool glide over her aching nipples, begging to be pinched and twisted. She tries to not play with herself, but absently finds her fingers rubbing up against her labia, pushing against her clitoris, sending sparks into her belly. Rachel stops her hands before they go any further, leaving the sexual peak for her Master, until he might later let her accumulated store of passion burst out in a raw surge of ungrounded, primal sexual energy.

Stepping out of the bath, she dried off, and headed over to the bed, stopping by at the mirror. What stared back at her was a stunningly beautiful woman. A body filled with lust, and glowing from anticipation. Rachel continued unpacking the items, breathing in their intoxicating scent. Remembering the times she had used them, bringing back powerful memories.

Far away, she could hear a small thunder rolling in. The storm tonight will be spectacular. This high aerie will be the perfect location to drink in all of the savage power that is already beginning to swirl around outside the thin sheet of glass. A loud, far-off boom of thunder rolls across the sky, shaking the walls of the room and making the window glass vibrate.

It’s time. She is ready. And there’s no turning back.

She picked up the first object.

--------------------------------------

Part 2 coming soon...

If anyone has any suggestions, please PM me, and I'll look into it.
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Old 05-17-2009, 04:48 PM   #4
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Good story! Hurry up with the next part
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Old 05-18-2009, 03:25 AM   #5
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Amazing story, keep up the good work!
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Old 05-18-2009, 03:50 AM   #6
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Wow, LilAngel this story is excellent. You are a superb writer, which goes to show that age has no difference as your writing skills are way above those of some adults I've seen here and otherwise. This is amazing.
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Old 05-18-2009, 04:07 PM   #7
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Aww... thank you so much Poob. (Devil & Jessicaehh)

Part 2

Rachel starts to dress. First, she picks up her panties. They are made of black latex, with an array of soft, flexible black nubs that fitted between her legs to press against her clitoris and her cunt. These tight latex panties have been custom-made for Rachel. Centred on the inside of the seat in the rear is a moulded latex cock, which is a seamless part of the panties. Rachel lubricates her asshole with a lavender-scented jelly; using two fingers to fully coat the inside of her ass as far as she can reach with the slippery, warm lubricant. Then she steps into the panties and works them up her legs. She positions the head of the cock against her puckered rear entrance, and eases the dildo inside her as she snugs the panties up to her hips.


The combination of the pliable rubber nubs on her clit and the wonderfully satisfying fullness in her ass makes Rachel sigh deeply with contentment. At this stage in her training, she finds that she is most happy when she has a big fat dildo in her cunt or her ass, keeping her constantly on the juicy perimeter of arousal – except, of course, when she is being vigorously and soundly fucked by a real cock. Even being whipped is so much more intense, so much more satisfying with something big and hard inside her.


Rachel’s blood is beginning to stir, as she picks up the next item on the bed. She caresses the blood red latex body-suit, that had been custom-fitted to her body so it clung to her like a tight, seamless, second skin. It is complete, with feet, gloves that were seamlessly attached to the arms, and a hood that pulls up over her head, leaving just her face exposed. Rachel traces her fingertips along the secret zipper that was completely hidden when she was wearing the suit; that ran from the top of the ass on the suit, between her legs, and up to the high neck in front. The zipper had two pulls on it, so Master could open it to access her cunt and ass without removing the suit.


Rachel rolls up the legs, and begins to ease the tight red rubber over her feet and ankles. She moves slowly and carefully. It is easy to tear the thin, delicate rubber with a careless pull or slash of her fingernails. She must also ensure that no air pockets are left by her feet and ankles.


The latex fits her literally like a second skin. Any air that is trapped will balloon out and completely mar the effect of the suit. It takes Rachel10 minutes to bring the suit up to her hips. The latex feels incredibly cool and smooth as it is pulled over her skin, the powder acting as a dry lubricant to help to rubber slide over her eager flesh. Soon, though, the latex is as hot as she is on the inside, though it remains cool and slippery smooth on the outside. Already, she can feel the sweat building on her legs, and beginning to pool in the cat suit’s feet.


Next, it is time for her hands and arms to disappear. Each glove and arm takes another 10 minutes of careful pulling and smoothing. When she has the cat suit completely fitted, R picks up a small, delicate pair of individual nipple clips. She reaches inside the open zipper of the suit to pluck each nipple, stretch it to its most delicious limit, and affix a clip to the tender, pink point. Rachel tightens the clips as far as she can, causing waves of wonderful, delicious pain to shoot from her nipples to radiate throughout her body.

Rachel was starting to sweat, from the combination of the cat suit encasing her body and her increasing arousal. She can feel the perspiration running down the inside of the suit. It feels spectacular. And hot.


Finally it is time to raise the zipper. Rachel stands in front of the mirror to watch her flesh disappear, to be replaced by the shiny, smooth, red latex – an incredibly thin and delicate, but immensely powerful sheathing for her body. With the zipper at her neck, she pauses to pirouette in front of the mirror. Her cunt is already on fire, from the visual effect of watching her transform herself, and from the constant motion of the rubber nubs on her clit, the plug in her ass, and the tight clips pinching her nipples beneath the taut rubber of her suit.


Rachel shines her new skin with the latex polish to bring it to a brilliant, blood red lustre. Rachel feels more naked and exposed now, enveloped beneath the opaque, red latex skin of the cat suit; than if she had been nude.


Next, Rachel picks up her corset. It is a jet-black, lambskin leather corset, also custom-made for her, with a strict, metal-boned skeleton woven into it, to mould her body into a beautifully wasp-waisted form that made the swell of her ass beneath the tightly constricted waist irresistibly attractive to her Master’s hand – and whip.


She wraps her torso in it, and begins to fasten the hooks in the front. She has to struggle to inhale and tighten her muscles enough to snap the closures shut. The corset’s moulded cups squeeze and press on her breasts as she latches herself into it. The effect on her nipple clips is incredible. Her entire body is on fire now. When she is done, her arm muscles ache and the sweat is pouring off her body inside the suit.

Rachel’s boots are next to the corset. Incredibly high spike heeled boots, that lace all the way up to just below her knees. Rachel sits on the chair and slides the boots over her feet. Her feet are pointed like a ballet dancer’s en point in the severely sculpted boots. Attempting to stand in them without holding on to something for the length of time it would take to don the corset would be absolutely impossible.

-----------------------------------------------
Part 3 coming soon...
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Old 05-18-2009, 04:44 PM   #8
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Default Good story!

Good story!
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keep up the good work it is well written!








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Old 05-31-2009, 01:34 PM   #9
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continue please
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Old 05-31-2009, 03:40 PM   #10
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LilAngel, you've done it again. Please write more. It is an incredibly worded and erotic story. Never have I been so aroused listening to how someone puts on clothes.
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Old 11-10-2009, 11:40 PM   #11
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Default Let's go off the main plot for a bit...

I've been debating about whether or not to share this... and whether it belongs in my blog or here. But GUESS WHAT?! I want you all to know that I have NOT given up on this story so pooooosttteee time.

Written [almost] exactly a year ago, and before I began writing about Rachel. And so it isn't the best of... my... stuff? xD



Preparations


There was a soft, distant chime of a church bell... eerie, subtle...

Rachel walked into the magnificently lit hotel. She could see a small cafe to her left. A dark, sweet aroma of late evening coffee; luxurious rug of velvet lay on the wooden floor boards; oak colored tables, polished and shined to its best. She sighed. Only Carlos could treat her to a place like this.

A man with a red cloak and gently white gloves strutted over.

"May I have the pleasure of taking your luggage up to your room, ma'am?" He spoke with a slight dutch accent.

"Certainly, sir." She followed him down the grand hallway into the elevator.

"You're on level 42," he said, as the doors of the elevator closed behind her.

"Thank you," she answered as she glanced at herself on the large mirror. Rachel smiled, and pressed her lips together making sure the lip lacquer was smooth and shiny.

She noticed the chauffeur in the corner, who couldn't help but stare at her in his peripheral vision. Walking out of the elevator, she slowly made her way down the hallway and opened the door to 42C. She could hear her lover in the kitchen, in amongst the small ching of champagne glasses.

Rachel walked over to the balcony, softly dropping her coat on the king-sized bed along the way. City lights filled the air, the clubs below her had a tint of neon color, bold and loud, screaming out at passing pedestrians. But thats not why Rachel was here. SHe was here to see Carlos. A 20th anniversary.

A soft, warm hand wrapped around her body.

"Did you really think I would let you freeze to death out here?"

"No, but I know that the people reading this would want you to say something a bit more unexpected."

"Why didn't you just say?! Well... Give me some time to think."

The end. (Or is it? )
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