The Right Stuffing

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The Right Stuffing

by Jack Watcher

       Calamari on Friday night in North Beach. A San Francisco tradition. I brought Leslie, my business partner, with me and we sat in a small booth at the back of an Italian restaurant on Columbus. It was early and we had the place mostly to ourselves. We sipped the red wine and talked.

       “I’ve read about a bra that had small wires poking inward. Could be either slowly aggravating or immediately painful.” Our business involved some applied pain. “You know anything about that?”

       “Never worn one but it sounds like fun.”

       “We need some new tools.”

       “Okay. I know a guy who would make that.”

       “A guy?” Leslie was gay and almost all of her friends were women.

       About then our food arrived. We had demolished our small salads and were ready for something more. The plates were heaped with octopus parts and pasta smothered in a mildly spicy red sauce. She leaned over and inhaled deeply of the strong, fishy scent.

       “Smell familiar?”

       “Fuck you.”

       She speared a tiny pointed octopus tentacle tip with her fork and, bringing it up to her mouth, started flicking it rapidly with her tongue.

       “Jesus! I can’t take you anywhere!”

       “You can’t take me period, Jack!”

       We ate. It was good.

       “What about Ben Wa balls?” I asked her as I refilled our glasses from the carafe. “The real ones are hollow and have a smaller heavy metal ball inside that bangs against the sides as the wearer walks, setting up some very hard to ignore vibrations in a girl’s vagina, right.”

       “Now there I have some experience.”

       “Really?”

       “It works slow. Probably too slow for us to use. Great for office wear, however. Nobody can tell they’re inside until a secretary sits down at her work station and starts to come.”

       “What about electric eggs?”

       “There’s a good new product out. Put one in front and one in back and then you can fade the vibrations back and forth from crotch to ass. Wild!”

       “Sounds like you’ve been there.”

       “Remember the Johnny Cash song, ‘I’ve been everywhere’?”

       I drank more wine.

       “So, all this talk about gearing up...do we have a job?”

       “We have three offers.”

       “Jesus! Are we getting too visible?”

       “Not at all. Just confidential references between very rich people.”

       “Okay.” Her voice was tentative. “Tell me.”

       “How would you feel if the victim was a man?”

       “Splendid!” Her wide smile dripped just a bit of red sauce.

       “Then there’s a female college student and a gay upper management woman from Silicon Valley.”

       “I suppose you want one of the cunts!”

       “Language!”

       “Oh, fuck off! Find me an Italian who hasn’t said the C word in public. Today!”

       “More wine?”

       “Why the hell do I put up with you?”

       “Oh, I dunno. Maybe it’s the two hundred grand Utah I put in your pocket this last year.”

       “Utah?”

       “UT. Under the Table.”

       “So, you want me to go tool shopping?”

       “Sure. Surprise me. I’ll look the job offers over and we can meet in a week and decide on one.”

       “I really don’t have a gender preference. Guy or girl, I can make ‘em scream.”

       “I know you can.” We had strong dark coffee in small cups and hailed two cabs outside. Me to the Haight and her to the Castro.

        We decided on the woman manager. She had bumped our client from a job he wanted and took the gravy train for herself. He quit, started his own company, and now he is a multi-billionaire, retired at 35. But he never forgot.

       “He wants her beaten and broken and sold to an LA pimp.”

       “We can do that.”

       “The fee is a million dollars, half a mil each.”

       “We will do that!”

       Our woman manager got a call from the president of a new startup company offering her twice her present salary plus a signing bonus. She was interested. A meeting was arranged. We booked her a room at the Mark Hopkins and made dinner reservations.

       Leslie and I took her to an excellent French restaurant and then, back at her hotel, to the Top of the Mark for after dinner drinks.  We drank martinis, at least Meredith did. I had made a small arrangement with the cocktail waitress so Les and I were served white wine in martini glasses - an old Ronald Reagan trick from his PR days with GE. I kept raising my arm and making a circle in the air and the drinks kept coming. We had to help the quite drunk woman to her room where Les gave her something to “make her feel better.” Down and out!

       The warehouse at the foot of Potrero hill was where they shot the interiors for “The Right Stuff,” that great movie about the first seven astronauts. It has been used on and off since then by movie companies looking to get away from the high cost of Hollywood unions. I rented it for a couple of months although we’d only need it for a couple of days, depending on how quickly Meredith healed. I created the company name, “Upright Features.” I figured my first idea, “Erection Pictures,” was too gross and might attract attention.

       Les and I sat in canvas director chairs sipping strong dark Italian roast coffee. I had brought a thermos that steamed deliciously when opened, and some red plastic cups. We had decided that we liked to work bottomless. I was wearing a plain dark green T-shirt and sneakers without socks. She wore sandals and her usual white T, nicely decorated in front by the outlines of her tits. Her legs were slightly parted and I could see a thin pink line where one of her lips peeked out of her bush. It was damp and glistening.

       “Don’t you have any cream?” she asked after her first swallow. I reached down and grabbed my flaccid cock, giving it a tug. “You are such a disgusting pig!”

       Meredith was still unconscious, hanging in a naked X in front of us. Her arms were pulled out and up by ropes dropping from the rafters displaying her tight body and flat stomach below perky pink tits. Her legs were held apart by lines that ran to big rings in the wooden floor, her pretty feet about a foot above it.

       “So, when’s the bitch going to wake up?” Les was getting restless. This was our first gay woman and she couldn’t wait to get started. “I have to pee! This damn coffee!”

       She stood and walked across the big room and then turned toward me. “I suppose you want to watch.” Without waiting for an answer she reached down and parted her lips. Immediately a strong yellow stream shot out, splattering on the floor and turning the wood dark. Her flow dropped to a dribble, wetting her pubic hair. “Ah, much better,” she said as she sat back down, her still-leaking lips dripping on the cloth seat.

       There is something about watching a woman come to consciousness, realizing she is bound and naked, that always sends a shiver of pleasure up my spine. Meredith was confused, then irate. “What the HELL?”

       “I think our guest would like something warm to drink, don’t you?” Les asked me. “It’s chilly in here.” I picked up the third cup and reached for the thermos but Leslie shook her head. “I’ll bet you have to piss, too, huh?” I got the idea. Walking over to stand in front of our spread-eagled victim I filled her cup with warm yellow piss. When I held it up to her face she turned her head quickly to the side.

       “Oh, oh, darling! That won’t do!” Les was on her feet. Moving behind Meredith. she reached around the woman’s slender body and gave each breast a gentle rub, tugging gently at her nipples, making them grow from dark raisins to ripe olives. “Try to keep her erect while I find my persuader.” Les rummaged around in the little blue nylon bag she always brought to work. So simple. Every home has at least one. A pair of pliers. I saw the day’s first look of horror well up in Meredith’s eyes as Leslie walked up to her.

       My partner ran a gentle hand under the left breast, stroking and then cupping it, flicking her thumb across the straining nipple. She lifted the pliers and Meredith said, “No, please...” Very gently Les closed the cold iron jaws on the woman’s warm tit tip, then began a slow squeeze. Meredith could feel pressure but no pain. Yet.

       When the metal jaws had grabbed on firmly Les pulled, stretching the breast out to a point. “Now, darling, I think you’re thirsty, right?” Meredith yelled as the awful pinch grew harder.

       Les nodded at the cup in my hand and I raised it to our captive’s lips. The squeeze tightened and her mouth flew open. I poured my warm piss down her throat. She coughed and sputtered but most of it went down. I poured the rest on her now free tit. It ran down her flat belly and soaked into her blonde bush. A few drops spattered onto the floor.

       Les sat back down in her chair, crossing her legs, showing me a flash of pink. “Your turn.”

       “Well, we’ve both had our morning whiz. I’ll bet our guest has to pee, too. Right?” Meredith nodded, hoping to be let down from the increasingly painful stretch. “Okay, go ahead.” She didn’t seem to understand. “Go ahead, piss yourself! That’s not a suggestion!” Les handed me the pliers.

       It took a minute or two for the stream to start. We are so damned conditioned to only piss in toilets! She started to cry as her yellow river poured from between her spread legs out onto the wooden floor. Humiliation can be as powerful a conditioner as a pair of pliers.

       “Okay, enough water sports!” I stood and walked toward the hanging woman, reaching down and feeling her wet lower lips. Quickly I shoved my fuck-you finger into her vagina. She was dry in there and it hurt her.

       “Get your finger OUT OF ME!!” I began wiggling my digit and soon felt moisture.

       “Nice,” I said, pulling out. “Did you bring the Iron Maidenform?” I asked Leslie. She nodded and reached down into the bag beside her chair, bringing up a flesh-colored brassiere. It looked like any other bra on the outside. Inside was another matter. She held it so Meredith couldn’t see the quarter-inch barbs that lined the cups.

       “Here, darling, let’s cover up those naked tits,” Les said, standing and pushing the cups onto Meredith’s breasts. She screamed again and again. Reaching behind, Les pulled the wide strap tight and pushed the Velcro fasteners closed. Meredith howled and cried and pleaded for us to take it off...”Please, just for a minute, please!”

       “No, it looks good on you. I think she should wear it all day, don’t you?” Les asked. I nodded, missing the sight of bare breasts but enjoying the pain I knew the special bra was causing. “Gives a new meaning to ‘underwire bra’ doesn’t it?” Les asked, smiling. Now she was holding out the little whip. I took it and stepped behind Meredith, quickly slashing her round ass, left to right and right to left. She yelled and jerked, wiggling the sharp barbs deeper into her breasts. Stepping in closer I grabbed the bra strap, pulled, and brought the lashes up hard between her legs, curling under her and up the front of her crotch, splitting her lower lips apart. Her screams were delightful.

       Leslie took the little whip and, standing in front of Meredith, slashed at her covered breasts, each stroke driving the little barbs into her sore tits. The screaming went on and on. Les was getting wet, her bush glistening with moisture and her lips swelling to push through the fur thicket. Tossing the little whip on the floor Les walked back to her director’s chair and sat with her legs open. A drop of moisture fell from her distended lips onto the canvas seat. “What are you lookin’ at?”

       “Girl,” was all I said.

       We took a break for lunch and I called for a pizza on my disposable cell. I stood outside the door waiting for the delivery, under the little red light that called attention to the printed sign I had hung there:

Motion picture shoot in progress.

DO NOT ENTER WHEN RED LIGHT IS ON!

       The delivery boy would quickly spread the word around the neighborhood, I was sure, after I told him the movie was called “Screams in the Night.” We were cool.

       Carrying the pizza box into the “studio” I snagged a couple of cold bottles of beer out of the small cooler I had brought and we had lunch. Les tenderly fed a slice to our hanging guest, giving her barbed-wire bra an occasional squeeze. “No beer for you! You’ll just piss the floor again.” After two beers each Les and I were the ones who had to use the floor. Standing so she could see me I held out my cock and started the flow. She stood beside me, holding her labia open and shooting a strong stream at the floorboards. Pissing standing up, a lesbian power move, I’m sure.

       I saw her stomach muscles clench as she cut off her flow. “Hey, she hasn’t had a chance to taste me yet. Hand me her cup.” She filled it halfway and then held it aside as the last of her water fell to the wood.

       Stepping up to Meredith she spoke softly. “We’re not going to have a problem this time, are we? Open up those pretty red lips.” When Meredith’s response wasn’t quick enough Les opened her left hand and pushed the right bra cup flat against the woman’s chest. She howled but kept her lips apart.

       Les tossed the empty cup aside and sat down. She was really getting off on this. Her long nipples were pointing straight ahead. Was she getting better at the job or was she just more acquainted with causing gay women intense pain? Both, probably.

       “What are you lookin’ at now, Dickhead?”

       “I’m not sure. Lift your shirt so I can get a better look.”

       Instead of two naked nipples I got to see one naked middle finger.

       We sat and looked at Meredith. Slim, naked except for the torture bra, she didn’t look much like a dominant business woman any more. Progress.

       “I want to do her first,” Les said. “You can have squishy seconds.”

       “Take her down?”

       “Unless you want to have your turn standing on a box.”

       “Pass. Standing up to fuck has never been one of my favorite positions.

       “Men are such lazy lovers.”

       We freed her legs first and then lowered her to the floor by her tethered arms, taking the ropes off her wrists, which were rubbed a bright red.

       “Let’s get that nasty old bra off of you,” Leslie said, reaching behind Meredith. I heard the ripping of Velcro. When the bra was pulled away our captive winced and I saw why. Her breasts were dotted with tiny red spots and some of them soon produced tiny red bubbles. Les rubbed them soothingly, smearing the blood.

       I unrolled the old army blanket I brought and spread it out on the hard floor.

       “Lie down, baby.” Leslie’s voice was soft now. “On your back.” She reached in her bag and came out with a small tube of AstroGlide, the lubricant that was to gays what WD-40 is to auto mechanics. She rubbed a liberal amount into Meredith’s slit, getting the lips good and slick then massaging her clit until the prone woman’s hips started to move.

       Les lay down on top of Meredith and started slowly grinding her hips. Meredith ground back. They kissed. It was long and slow and I could tell it was good for both of them because they both came, very audibly.

       At last Leslie stood up and stretched her arms over her head. Then she tossed me the AstroGlide. “You’ll have to do the inside. I didn’t use it.” Now her bush was sopping wet.

       “I know you really wanted to rape that virgin we were hired to get ready to fuck her boyfriend a few months ago. Well, here’s your virgin and no holds barred. You won’t find a hymen...there have been some plastic monsters up inside our guest, but never a cock.”

       Interesting.

       Watching the girl-on-girl performance I saw my dick getting thicker, then hard, then painful as it wagged back and forth in front of my crotch. I stood up to join my already standing cock, walking over to look down at Meredith. She was in a lazy post-coital haze.

       I slowly lowered myself to my knees, my raging hardon sticking way out, pointing at her face. I squirted out a small blob of the gel lube onto my index finger and lowered it to her vagina, sliding it easily inside, making her tube as slick as her lips. She gasped, woke up, and started shouting, “GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME YOU BASTARD!”

       I pulled my stretching cock down like a lever and felt the tip touch the rim of her hole. Leaning in I pushed up inside her and kept going until my stomach was tight against hers. She went ballistic, legs thrashing and arms flailing. And cursing.

       “YOU BASTARD! YOU GODDAM BASTARD! I’VE NEVER HAD A COCK IN ME! GET THAT THING OUT!”        

       I stayed inside her for a count of five, holding her down by the shoulders, and then slowly withdrew, leaving only the head of my dick inside.

       “GET IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT!”

       I moved my hands from her shoulders to her very sore breasts and put my weight on them. She howled in pain, wiggling her shoulders, trying to get the pressure off her screaming raw tits. I lifted my hands quickly and dropped two hard fists into her gut. I kept doing it until she stopped struggling.

       “Good girl, now tell me to come back in, Meredith.”

       She did and I did. She wasn’t moving under me but I was moving her, shoving her slim pelvis back and forth on the thin blanket with my thrusts as she cried and sobbed, defeated. She was slick inside and the friction took a long time to build up my climax. As I felt it coming close I fucked her faster, bucking into her crotch and pelvis with solid force until I felt the semen start at the base of my cock and come rushing up, out, and into her.

       She turned her head to the side and said, “No, god, no! This isn’t happening.” To prove that it had indeed happened I put both hands on her wounded and terribly sore tits, pushing myself up as my slimy dick pulled free, still partly hard. She lay there crying, one arm across her tits and the other holding her crotch.

       “Didn’t make her come.” My partner. Always the critic.

       I sat down. My cock was still long, but not very hard. Come was dripping from its tip onto the canvas seat.

       “I see we both leak after a good fuck,” Les said, smiling and looking at my dick.

       “Okay, baby,” Les said, getting up from her director’s chair. “Fun is over and it’s time for you to get dressed.” Her eyes opened and showed a glimmer of hope. were we going to let her go now? Hope turned to fear as Les picked up the wired bra. then reaching in that wonderful bag of hers, she pulled out a thong. But it looked more like a chastity belt than underwear. It was made of metal mesh and its inside surface matched the inner surface of the bra.

       “No, no, please! No more! I can’t take any more!”

       “Get up, slut!” Les’ voice was hard now. “Get up and stand with your legs apart.” Meredith stood and Leslie asked her which one she wanted to put on first. “You get to choose and you get to put them on.” The terrified woman didn’t move. “If I have to put them on I guarantee you won’t like it!”

       Meredith took the metal crotch piece and pulled it to her loins, keeping the little spikes away from her crotch, tying the waist string behind her back. The tie from the bottom of the device hung down between her open legs.

       “Come ON!” Les stepped quickly behind her and, reaching down, grabbed the 

dangling string, reefing up hard. Meredith screamed as the prongs bit into her slit. I pushed up under her, hard, wiggling the pins into all her tender girl parts. She screamed and screamed until I slapped her hard and told her to shut the fuck up!

       “Now, the bra,” I said, lifting my hand again. “Put it on.” She did, very gently and very silently until Les grabbed the straps and pulled. More screams. Boring. No wonder women took so long to get dressed, what with all the screaming.

       The sun was across town, heading for a twelve hour swim in the Pacific. It had been a long time since the pizza and Les and I were both starving. Pulling the blanket over to the two floor rings I pushed Meredith down onto it in a sitting position and, pulling her feet apart, tied her bare ankles to the rings. She sat on the blanket, her legs in a V. Then I tied her arms to the same rings, forcing her to lean painfully forward, arms pulled out away from her body and her body pulled down toward the floor. Damned uncomfortable..

       “Here,” Leslie said, handing me a roll of duct tape from that bottomless bag. I took a couple of wraps around her blonde head, plastering her pretty mouth shut.

       “Okay, we’re going out for dinner. Can we bring you back anything? I didn’t here anything, did you?”

       “Nope,” said Les. “Guess she’s not hungry.”

       We left her sitting hunched uncomfortably forward. I bet her shoulders were starting to ache already.

       The city side of Potrero hill is dotted with good little restaurants. We decided to walk and ended up in a Greek café with lots of white and blue tile. I ordered a bottle of retsina and we poured over the menu. We wanted everything!

       I took the half-empty bottle with us when we headed back. I sat down in one of the canvas chairs and looked at our captive. She was moving her sore and bent back around, trying to find a comfortable position. There wasn’t one. I filled our coffee cups with retsina and handed one to Les, who was sprawled comfortably in her chair.

       “Let’s take her bra off.”

       “Getting soft?” There was a double entendre there but I wasn’t going near it.

       “I want to watch her tits hang down while I finish my wine.”

       “Do it, then.” Meredith’s breasts hung down when the evil bra came off and they swayed when she moved in her continual struggle to find relief.

       “Nice.”

       We left her there like that all night, the prickly chastity belt tight against her tender parts. In the morning I crawled out of my sleeping bag and went out for fresh coffee and pastry. When I came back Les was packing up, getting ready for our road trip. We ate and I asked her about the special travel supplies. She had ‘em. She also had a very tacky outfit from one of the ho stores on lower Market street. A pink plastic skirt and pale black see-through top. Spike heels. Clothes for Meredith’s new profession. Dress for success.

       We unstapled her crotch and untied her arms and legs. She couldn’t stand up without help, so I helped her with the little whip. We made her dress herself. I wasn’t sure about the ring of duct tape around her head. All we needed was a cop to pull up next to us and see that. As it turned out, she wouldn’t need a gag.

       Before the tape came off I unfolded the little packet of travel supplies and dipped a tiny spoon into the Mexican brown heroin. With one hand I pinched Meredith’s nostrils shut until her chest heaved as she struggled for air. I lifted one finger from a nostril and held the spoon under it. Her gasping intake of breath emptied the spoon. Same game, other nostril. When her head started nodding we removed the tape gag and helped her to the car.

       Up onto the freeway and across the Bay bridge. Take a left and head down I-5 for LA. Our car was an island in the night. A couple of times Leslie gave Meredith more brown.

       We met Leroy under a freeway overpass somewhere in LA. Meredith stumbled getting out of our car and I had to grab her, holding her up.

       “Man, that bitch fucked up!” Leroy said. He leaned against his restored Cadillac. It was a model and color that, when new, was never sold to anyone who was not white. Now the cars were collectors items among black pimps.

       “She’s just getting acquainted with heroin,” I explained.

       “Fine,” he answered. “Jes’ fine.”

       He handed me the agreed payment and I handed two of the hundreds back. “That’s for the small favor we need. I need a picture of her with you. Won’t show your face, of course. Proof that we delivered her here, you understand.” He was dubious and scowled when I produced the small digital camera. I peeled off another Ben Franklin and he agreed. We propped her up against a big concrete freeway pillar and I took a shot.

       “Hit her!” He did and I got the shot.

       We climbed back into our cars and started our engines. Steer horns were still popular hood ornaments in Texas, I guess, but in LA things were different. A foot long black hose hung down in front of Leroy’s caddy. He reached for a control and the hose became erect, pointing forward and up while a spray of something white shot out. He smiled a big pimp smile and drove off with Meredith.