Tiffany Crosses the Color Line

CHAPTER ONE

** Tiffany's journey continues as she is turned into a black streetwalker. **

NOTE: This trilogy picks up where "Tiffany Gets Decorated" left off. To learn more about these characters and how they got into this situation, you may want to read that series first - D

---

Kyung Mi -- Kaitee for short -- never ceased to amaze me. As a graduate level psychology student and academic prodigy, her knowledge of the human mind was stunning. And, as Tiffany's roommate, her knowledge of the world inside Tiffany's head was even more impressive.

Just before I left Southern California two weeks ago to fly home, she was the one who suggested the logs. I found one of the public "real life slaves" websites that had what I wanted and had Tiffany join. She resisted when she had to provide a valid email account but I gave her one from an old submissive of mine. (No point giving anyone else the upper hand in blackmailing this sweet young thing.) On that site, we posted several of the photos I'd taken - her face Photoshopped out but her luscious body intact. Same with videos. She was quiet and kept her head down as she copied them from my USB drive to her new website. I savored the thick atmosphere of submission in the room as she offered herself up to the public, for every wanker and jerk-off to download and watch absolutely free.

The journalling started that day as well. She logs every piss and shit she takes, and every handjob or blowjob she provides to her steady customers. An entry consists of date, time, and a one paragraph description of each occurrence. I enjoy reading her entries about simple visits to the toilet. she has to get more and more creative every time to not simply repeat herself. By the end of the first week, she was making entries like: "I opened my legs this time and lifted my bottom slightly off the toilet seat. When the turd began to push its way out of me, I felt a feeling of intense shame, knowing I would be writing about it as soon as I returned to my room. It made it very difficult for me to finish."

Kaitee had me implement that for a very specific reason. Tiffany was completely mortified by body functions. If it were possible, she would try to make believe she never used a toilet at all. The intensity of just the few sentences she had to write each day was wreaking havoc with her mind.

Tiffany's entries about Allan are equally compelling. Allan is no longer satisfied with handjobs as he was before. And he no longer pays her. He routes the fee directly to my account.  Her entry from her first visit to Allan after the piercing was rather mile, but the second was more disturbing: "Allan made me strip naked as soon as I entered his home. this time he did not have me touch him, he just played with my body. He attached metal devices to me that allowed him to stretch my nipples from underneath the barbell. I was with him for over two hours and he adjusted the stretchers half a turn each thirty minutes. Then, he just went about his business and left me standing with my hands behind my back in the middle of the room. The pain made my eyes run with tears but I cannot complain because I know David will reveal me to my parents."

Her third and fourth visits were like that as well. He's only had one more visit with her since, two nights ago. She simply wrote: "David allowed Allan and two friends to possess my bottom tonight. They bent me gently over a table and took turns using me from behind. I was well lubricated. I am still a virgin. I am still a virgin."

Kaitee told me that this step was necessary.  I realize I haven't been completely forthcoming about Kaitee's involvement in this entire affair. In short, she orchestrated it. She is the mastermind.

It happened like this.

Tiffany and Kaitee had been friends through most of high school. They went away to different colleges but both ended up at USC. They kept in close touch that entire time. Their families were well off and it was not difficult to fly back and forth across the country on weekends and spend summer vacations touring the world.

During all that time, they partied hard together, shared stories, and flirted relentlessly.  Kaitee was always the more perceptive of the two and easily saw Tiffany's submissive side. She never mentioned anything but occasionally did things to watch how Tiffany might respond. As the years went by, she realized she had a dominant side and let herself go further and further. She'd tease Tiffany in front of other Koreans -- Tiffany was a half-breed, a combination Thai and Koran. It didn't matter to many of them but Tiffany -- already conditioned by her parents to assume she was "not good enough" -- internalized it. Kaitee would make comments about her clothes, her choice of boyfriends, even what she read. It was always very mild, almost subliminal, but completely effective. By the time they became roommates in graduate school, Tiffany was deeply in love with her and wished for nothing less than complete submission to her friend.

Kaitee dropped hints and Tiffany picked them up. A casual comment like "this is my favorite perfume" and she could rest assured Tiffany would never let her run out. Expensive dresses -- dresses Kaitee's parents would never pay for -- would show up as gifts from Tiffany. Kaitee had once even let Tiffany finger her to orgasm, giggling through it all so Tiffany could justify it to herself as "innocent girl play" even while her mind was overwhelmed by the very idea she was touching her goddess.

Where I came into the picture was about a year ago when Kaitee learned Tiffany was making money giving handjobs and blowjobs to a small but steady handful of customers. I never learned the reason for the turnaround, but Kaitee decided she wanted to completely break Tiffany -- her words were that she wanted to "own the little whore body and soul". I picked up some hints of what it was about -- betrayal of their friendship, jealousy. But there was something more. Something that smacked of racial purity -- Tiffany was taking white cock into her mouth and that offended Kaitee.

She already knew about me. In fact, she knew just about everything about Tiffany's life. All the things Tiffany thought she was keeping secret were like an open book to someone with Kaitee's instincts. She told me she'd read my stories and the emails and chats between me and Tiffany and was sure I was up to the job. She outlined it in general strokes -- the timeline, the buttons to push, the ways I could get into Tiffany's head -- and asked if I was interested. One major feature she insisted on: I would exploit Tiffany's racial fears and prejudices as part of the process. Having grown up in the same culture, Kaitee knew them all and laid them out for me.

It took me a while to a decision. The entire thing was -- IS -- a minefield. A white Dom subjecting an Asian woman to humiliation and use at the hands of . . . well, you'll see soon enough. But it was a problem. Until she told me how much she was willing to pay to make this happen. That drew me into her camp quickly. When she explained that I would also be getting all of the money Tiffany had collected from her johns, I was in. Yes, I can be bought.

It would take me another two weeks to arrange things so I could spend some significant time in Southern California, manipulating the situation locally instead of from a distance. Though I do write, it isn't how I pay the bills. Luckily,  my job is somewhat portable and I was able to volunteer for enough "project work" that they could live without me at my desk for up to six weeks. More than enough time to let this play itself out. But that was two weeks away.

Kaitee wrote me back quickly with suggestions on how best to use the two weeks. As usual, she was incredibly creative and completely correct about how to continue Tiffany's downward spiral.

---

Since I wasn't present when the following events happened, I'll use some of Tiffany's journal entries to describe them. "Yesterday, Kaitee gave me an unexpected present. It was a book of coupons for a local tanning booth shop. She told me she was looking at pictures of us on vacation last summer and that she thought I looked much sexier with a deep tan. Aiiiiiiii! It made me juice, the thought that she had been looking at pictures of me. I came twice in the bathroom thinking about her. She is so hot and sexy. I went to the tanning booth last night after supper and again this afternoon between classes. I so want her to notice me!" Kaitee filled in the blanks for me. Tiffany told her about it, told her "thank you" over and over for the present and said she would get as dark as chocolate.

As she talked, she let out that she might like to go somewhere else next time, this place was dirty and nasty. She described the girl behind the counter was an under-20 Latina with hair piled up high and too much makeup. She was wearing nearly nothing, and what she had on was skin tight and brightly colored. She popped gum as she handed Tiffany a towel and told her to get undressed. The towel wasn't big enough to cover much of her and she complained but the girl didn't do anything. I already knew that. Kaitee had shown them a picture of Tiffany and told them exactly how to treat her. They left her in the booth longer and dialed up the controls in order to get the best results in the least amount of time without burning. When she talked about going somewhere else, Kaitee gave just the slightest hint she was disappointed and Tiffany backed off completely. As expected. She was so docile and compliant I was surprised Kaitee didn't just say "I own you now" and get the whole thing over with.

Kaitee also provided the bottles of water they gave Tiffany before and after the sessions. She was loading them with hormones, preparing her body for some changes she would go ahead with when I finally got to town. She also spiked Tiffany's water bottles at home, she was getting a megadose of whatever it was.

After just a few days of that, Tiffany noticed results. She wrote in her journal: "Kaitee followed me to the shower this morning. I was so excited, i was juicing all the way down the hall. My body is already getting darker and I wanted her to notice. I wiggled my ass all the way down the hall. When we got into the bathroom, I stripped down to just my tiniest bra and walked around, talking about this and that, trying to get her to notice me. She is soooooo sexy! aiiiiiiiiI! she makes me so wet! Now that I am pierced, I think about sex all the time. Kyung Mi is so hot! I want her to touch me so badly. I do more things for her than ever, i wash her clothes, take out the trash, i do everything around the house i can find. I ironed her underthings last night, touching them, smelling them. aiiiiiiiiii! I have to keep my bra on so she does not see that i am pierced. She jokes about it and I blush but I cannot tell her why I keep it on. My pussy is so wet when I look at her."

The other thing we had to keep going those two weeks were her visits with her clients. Aside from Allan, nobody really knew anything had changed. They usually didn't make her take off her clothes, she just showed up, pulled her skirt up and her panties down and let them spank her. Then, she got on her knees and jerked or sucked them off. They paid and she left. It was all pretty mechanical and all went on pretty much as usual. Except that her journal entries were changing. "i felt George's cock press into my side as he spanked me for the fifth time. aiiii! it made me wet thinking about it in my mouth, sucking it and swallowing it."

Kaitee said this would happen as well. As she surrendered to my ownership of her, she would start to eroticize what used to be merely business transactions. Images of cocks would swim in her head. She would still resist, she was far from broken, but it would distract and confuse her. Except for Allan.

Allan was key right now. Everything she did with him was a directly result of my control and her journal entries reflected it. "Allan pulls on my piercings and makes me touch my tattoos, showing them off to his friends. I do not want him to touch me but David will send the pictures to my parents so I must obey."

My part of the bargain during those two weeks was to learn the bar scene, the singles scene, and the kinky underworld around town. It didn't take long. Over two weeks -- and with help from Kaitee -- I was able to line up more than a dozen willing participants. I showed them the pictures Kaitee had digitally enhanced to show how she expected Tiffany to look in about four weeks. The men's enthusiasm was almost physically palpable.

---

As my plane was touching down, I finished the last of the red wine the steward had brought. Free wine. Who knew? I wasn't used to flying first class. I wasn't used to wearing the kind of expensive suit I was wearing either. A lot of things were changing now that I had access to Tiffany's accounts.

Kaitee had arranged that. She'd brought Tiffany to a session with her financial advisor who -- after accepting a thousand dollar "helper" fee from Kaitee -- had explained to her the need for a joint account with a trusted friend. As soon as the words were out, Tiffany turned to Kaitee who graciously agreed to help. Tiffany signed the papers turning the account over to me without even reading them. She still didn't know. I'd left her on the account so her latest purchases -- three pairs of shoes, seven dresses and several hundred dollars worth of underthings at Victoria's Secret -- wouldn't raise any flags.

I was astonished by the amount of money flowing into the account. At Allan's suggestion, she'd raised the prices to all of her clients. They agreed without exception, some noting that she seemed more enthusiastic than usual lately. Allan told me that at least two of them noticed the tan. She'd blushed when they mentioned it. No doubt, it made her think of Kaitee.

I deplaned and went into the terminal to get my bags. Tiffany was downstairs waiting just outside baggage claim. I set the two bags down as soon as I crossed the security line. Without missing a beat, she tried to pick them up. They were heavy and she was straining but she didn't say a word. Finally, she got both of them up off the ground and started walking toward the elevator. I'd purposely overpacked them both, had paid extra at checkin because of it. I really didn't need most of it but I wanted to watch her struggle. It was worth it to watch her balancing herself on three-inch heels while carrying two sixty-pound suitcases. She was wearing a tiny pair of bright red short shorts (hot pants, we used to call them) and a white cross-country runner type tank-top and was catching every eye in the airport. Even in Southern California, she stood out. The long, black, straight hair, the tight, hard body, and the deep tan - unusual for an Asian girl - made her a winning package.

I stood beside the car while she tried to wrestle the suitcases into the trunk. Two college-aged guys came by and helped her, glaring at me just standing there. I nodded and one of them told me to "get fucked". I just smiled.

Tiffany held the passenger side door open for me then walked around and got in. She was still panting from carrying the suitcases, a sheen of sweat covered her body. I turned and looked at her. She was so fucking hot! All that skin, tanned, shimmering, and -- most of all -- completely available.

"Do you have something for me?" I asked. "Yes, Sir," she replied, reaching underneath her seat. She handed me a small box. Inside was a Beltrame stiletto - an 11-inch Swinguard model. Kaitee had come through. I nodded and threw the empty box in the back seat. "Let's go."

With her hands still in her lap, she asked, "where to...Sir?"

"I'm considering having you masturbate for me right now," I said calmly. I saw a slight shiver go through her, like she'd stepped into an air conditioned building. I wanted to fuck her right then, but I had a job to do. I told her to drive to Western Avenue in West Adams. She froze.

"Start the car. You have your instructions."

"But, Sir, that neighborhood..." she began but I didn't respond and she stopped. "Sir, may I go home and get dressed?" Again, I kept silent. I could feel the tension rising in the car. Her deep-rooted prejudices were boiling just under the surface, i could nearly hear the gears turning. Her fears and fantasies would be spinning around in her head by now, images of brown-skinned men of all types -- Puerto Rican, Mexican, Cuban, Central American -- staring at her nearly-naked body. Worse yet, the street I'd given her was a well-known corridor for hookers. Was she wondering if I would have her get out of the car? Work a corner?

"Start the car," I said again. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she bit a trembling lower lip and reached for the key. She fumbled twice before she got the engine started, then nearly backed into another car. She pulled forward and parked, crossed her arms against the steering wheel, lowered her head and stared to cry.

"It's been a long time," I said calmly, "and perhaps you've forgotten our arrangement."

"N..no, Sir," she sobbed.

"Have you changed your mind? Shall I invite your father over and have him watch some movies with me?"

"No, no, Sir."

"Do you want your mother to open an envelope and find a pile of nice, glossy 8 X 10 photos of her daughter? With her piercings and tattoos?"

She broke down for several more minutes. I let her cry herself out without saying a word.

Finally, she raised her head. Her cheeks was soaked with tears and two long, clear strings hung from her nostrils. I gave her a handkerchief and told her to get cleaned up. She wiped herself off and redid her makeup.

"Good. Now, Western Avenue."

She sniffed once then said, "yes, Sir."

---

"That's good, pull over there." I pointed to a parking spot on 8th Street, just around the corner from Western Ave. She pulled into one of the two parking spaces beside a pair of big palm trees. I told her to turn her head and look back up the street. "What do you see?"

"An alley, then a massage parlor. And some men. Sir."

I nodded. "Further down, there's a liquor store." I reached into my pocket and took out a fifty dollar bill. "And I'm thirsty." She started shaking her head but I raised my finger to my lips and she stopped. "I would like something cold. Go get me a can of Dos Equis."

Tiffany got out of the car and walked around to my side. I tapped on the window and she leaned down. I rolled it down. "And? Buy a pack of condoms. Bring them back without a bag. In your hand. Visible." She nodded weakly and began walking up the street. I watched her in the mirror as she slowly walked toward the alley -- a feast of tanned flesh with thin stripes of white fabric that did more to draw attention to her than to cover her. She stopped just after the alley, near the front door of the massage parlor. I was puzzled but only briefly. She shook her head backward, straightening her long hair, then took on a strut I recognized immediately. Her bar walk. She'd slipped into tease mode and was going to play it to the hilt.

The men saw her then and started gesticulating, hooting and whistling. She kept her strut steady and went into the store. They followed her, hands in their pockets, laughing and talking. When she came out, two of them surrounded her and the third fell in line just a step behind. "A fifty dollar bill, eh, Princess Chan?" They kept taunting and teasing, talking about the rubbers and beer, asking "how much for a party, Kim Chee?" They gave up about halfway back to the car and went back to their corner, high-fiving and laughing.

Just before Tiffany passed the massage parlor, the door opened and a short, overweight black man came out, he was weaving and was clearly drunk. He stopped and when she walked by, he put out his hand. She froze and he ran his meaty palm across her belly, just underneath the navel. I was about to open the car door when he laughed and staggered up the street toward the corner. Tiffany dropped the can and condoms, ran into the alley and leaned against the wall, dropped her head and threw up.

---

It was Thursday night. Tiffany had no classes on Friday, so we had the next three days free. I would devote them to research, testing her limits and trying to decide what I wanted to do with her next. I had only one specific instruction from Kaitee: to turn Tiffany brown. Not just tan. Brown. A rich, deep chocolate brown. She'd told the girls at the tanning salon exactly what she wanted: a rich dark mocha color, evenly baked into every inch of her body. They were making progress but it was slow going. They told me to expect that, tanning had plateaus and she was at one. But, that was fine. We had time.

But Kaitee meant more than giving Tiffany a deep, dark tan. She wanted me to change her life as well. Her clothes. Her lovers. Her speech. In short, actually "turn" her brown.

Kaitee had left me to make the one big decision: would we turn Tiffany into a Latina hooker or a black hooker? It set me back quite a bit when she explained it to me. it made me squirm. I'm not comfortable with racial stereotypes and it violated my own principles but she upped the ante again -- substantially this time. It stunned me exactly how far she was willing to go -- how much time and money she was willing to invest in this -- but finally, I collapsed under the weight of my own greed.

Before I started, I brought her back to Carson to augment her decorations. He tattooed the Korean symbol for Pleasure in the small space just above the crack of her ass. Then, I showed her a photograph of her next tattoo: a four-inch tall, anatomically correct, open-lipped vagina. She pulled me close and begged me not to, offered me anything I wanted, including her precious virginity. She took my hand and slid it up between her legs, whispering she would "give it up" to me if I would just reconsider. I gripped her wrist firmly with my other hand and pulled it away, pressed it on one arm of the chair. I did the same with the other one.

"Tell Mr. Carson you are ready for your tattoo."

"I...am...ready for...my...tattoo, Sir," she managed. I blindfolded her while he swabbed her clean-shaven underarm with soap and water, then alcohol. He worked on the design for nearly an hour, touching and dabbing, pushing her arm upward and to the side as needed. She leaned her head to the side and sobbed silently. I could imagine her wrestling with herself. She'd gone on and on about how it would turn her on to be forcibly tattooed. Now that it was happening, she was having second thoughts. It was too late, it was happening.

When the tattoo was done, I had him tape a gauze cotton pad over it. I'd actually had him tattoo a pin-up type girl there, long and thin, wearing a sailor cap and not much else, but Tiffany didn't need to know that. I wanted her to live with the fear that someone would see her underarm tattoo, live with the knowledge that she could never forget to keep her arms down, never let her guard slip. It was worse than handcuffs or chains, this was a permanent reminder that she had to keep her arm in a particular position. Tattos could be forgotten, she could adjust to a piercing, but this would haunt her constantly.  She could never relax. She could never forget. It would remind her every minute of every day that she was owned. With any luck, she would never bring herself to look at it and realize it wasn't as bad as she thought.

I wanted to push the "only Hispanic sluts wear big hoop earrings" button, so we pierced both ears and put in big hoop earrings. She was excited and I could tell she wanted to touch herself. I teased her, touching her thighs lightly, until Carson told me to stop because she wasn't sitting still and he couldn't work. When he finished, I had him schedule another appointment the next night and invited Allan. He asked Carson if he could make the earrings permanent. Tiffany panicked but I could nearly smell her arousal. She opened and closed her thighs, trying to hide it but unable. As Carson described the process, Allan slid his hand up underneath her skirt. She squirmed and whispered, "no" but came right in the chair in front of us. Her face and chest blushed deep red but she couldn't stop grinding her hips against Allan's hand. She came again.

"Ask the nice man to make your slut hoops permanent," Allan said.

Tiffany looked at Carson and asked. He lit the small soldering device he kept on the table.

When he was finished with the hoops, I told him I needed one more thing done. Tiffany looked at me, puzzled and afraid. She couldn't hide the hoop earrings the way she could the nipple piercings and the tattoos. Now, I wanted something else?

"Three more," I said, watching Tiffany closely. She nearly fainted. I pointed to the marker on Carson's tool table and he handed it to me. I made three dots on Tiffany's left ear, clustered near the top of the helix. "A small gold ring in each one."

I could see Tiffany fighting back tears, her pride was still intact even though she knew I had complete control over her. It was delicious.

Carson raised the price for the piercings and Allan pulled out a wad of cash. It was over in less than ten minutes.

---

All day Friday and into Saturday morning, I experimented with a variety of things. I paraded her around the seedier parts of town half naked, watching the reactions from the men and woman, the streetwalkers and pimps, the storeowners and the cops. Especially the cops. I was playing a dangerous game here. I didn't know the neighborhoods well so it was important I had some sense of their reaction to me and her.

Her first outing was around lunch time in a working-class area of a black neighborhood. Tiffany was horrible during the preparations, complaining and resisting. I had to punch in the first four digits of her parents' phone number into my cell before she quieted down and let the make-up girl go to work on her. When she was finished, Tiffany looked like a Goddess - a cocoa-colored Goddess.  Her hair was corn-rowed and greased, her eyelids heavily painted, and her lips puffy and bright red. Liz -- a make-up girl who worked free lance for the movie industry and knew all the tricks -- had worked on Tiffany's lips with some kind of fine-needled chemical injection that puffed them to more than twice their normal size. Then, she outlined them with a black pencil and painted them with something bright and red that she showed me couldn't be wiped off. I was impressed.

But even more impressive was the body work she did. She went out to her van and came back with a suitcase full of gear. By the time she was done, Tiffany had D-sized breasts and a huge, round ass.

"Now, you know you can't take off your clothes or they'll see what's under here," she said casually, more to me than Tiffany. The clothes consisted of a pair of skintight, bright read pants that cut off just below the knee and a top that clung tight just under her breasts and forced her cleavage up and out. The underside was padded to make it look like the freakishly-large D cups were natural. On Tiffany's slight frame, the tits and ass were almost comical, like a caricature. Liz adjusted her top so a slight bit of her dark nipple ring was exposed. She'd taped the nipple piercings but that only made what showed through the fabric look even more extreme. Tiffany submitted silently to the degrading costume, standing perfectly still while Liz worked. Liz finished her off with two big gold bracelets then handed her a pair of four-inch spike heeled shoes.

Liz stood next to me as we watched Tiffany fumble with her new body, trying to bend down and strap on the shoes.

As I peeled Tiffany's own money off the stack in my jacket pocket, I said, "don't worry about her taking off the clothes. She's a cocksucker. All mouth. She just loves to swallow, so, no problem with the clothes."

---

I picked a bar in a decent working-class black neighborhood and set her up for business on a barstool near the men's room. She grabbed my arm as I started to walk away but I glared at her and she let go. "Sit. Sip. and flirt. You're used to it, aren't you?" She lowered her eyes, anger and shame raging. "Letting men buy you drinks? You know. Of course, you were the sweet, hot, grad student from USC, weren't you? Not a slutty little black hooker with a big bubble ass." Her shoulders slouched as the words penetrated her. That was what they were going to see. Or even worse. A wannabee. An Asian babe who wanted to go back. A 'bruised banana'. I slid my hand up between her legs, making sure plenty of the guys in the bar saw me. Then, I kissed her cheek and dropped a fifty dollar bill on the bar. The whispering started.

We  stayed for just under an hour. Six different guys took their turns, buying her drinks, chatting her up. Each ended the same way, she sent them to me, told them to talk to me about anything more than a drink. I wasn't ready to pimp her out but she didn't know that. I made appointments for each of them, handing them a fake address and a fake phone number. They went away, happy and looking forward to tomorrow.

When we left, I told her she had an hour to rest up before the gangbang started. She shuddered and stumbled. I caught her, saw her eyes. She was close to passing out. I held her until it passed, then flagged down another taxi.

It was only two in the afternoon and we had all day. I gave the driver a piece of paper with an address then settled back in the seat. I ran my finger along her ear, stroking the three small earrings.

"Como siente hoy, mi puta?"

The driver looked in the mirror, puzzled. I leaned forward. "Bi-racial." He nodded, still confused.

"So, how did it feel?"

"I felt so cheap, horrible, like a slut." I nodded. "Good. You're learning." I stroked her leg, running my hand from her knee to her mid thigh. "Have you ever sucked black cock?"

"Ewww!" she sneered. I just stared. I'll bet she'd let them buy her enough drinks over the years, led them on with those big almond eyes of hers, that tight little body. I started to wonder if she'd ever even sucked off any of the white or Asian guys who bought her drinks. Maybe the only guys she'd sucked off were the lawyers who were paying for it. It wasn't actually hard to believe.

"You're going to have your first one. Your first black lollipop." She stiffened and shook her head. "There are limits." I shook my head. "Yeah, but I set them, not you."

---

Allan and Willy were wearing robes, sipping scotch and smoking cigars when I brought Tiffany into the suite. The front of the robes fell open when they stood up and came to shake my hand. Tiffany's eyes locked on Willy's crotch. I looked too. He was impressive, his cock was thick and hung nearly to his knees. She looked at me in panic, grabbed my arm.

"Hey, girl!" Willy said, holding out his free arm. "Gimme some sugar." She stood frozen while Willy leaned forward, his mouth inches from hers. Gently, I reached for her head, took it in my hands, and turned her toward him. She opened her mouth and let him kiss her, his stubbly face scratching her skin, his tongue pushing deep into her throat. His hand squeezed her titty and he pulled back right away.

"What the fuck?" He pulled her top off and the padding slid to the floor. "Damn, girl!" He leaned his head down when he saw the nipples. "Now, why you hidin' these?" He took the little gold barbells in his fingers and twisted both of them ninety degrees. Tears came to her eyes. "That ass real?" She cried and shook her head. He twisted harder and she yelped. "You tryin' to be funny? Huh?" He let go and the piercings spun back into place, she yelped again. He pushed her head down and she went to her knees. "Suck my cock, bitch." Sniffling and shaking, Tiffany reached for his long cock, raising the head to her mouth. She pushed the head against her lips, opened them and let the head slide between them. I saw her body shake and her hands start to shake. As another inch of the cock went into her mouth, she gagged, then jumped up and ran out of the room. She didn't know where the bathroom was and dropped to her knees in the hallway, spewing her lunch onto the tile floor.

"You done?"

Tiffany turned and saw Willy standing behind her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, turned and looked at him. Without a word, he grabbed her hair and pulled her toward him. "Again," he said. This time, she surrendered and let him pump back and forth in her mouth while she made wet, slurping sounds. When he came, she swallowed what she could but didn't expect such a torrent. It gushed out of her mouth and nose onto his legs and the floor. He had her lick him clean, gagging all the time. When he was finished, he let go of her hair and came back into the living room. "Bitch has a lot to learn," he growled, then asked, "anyone need another drink?"

---

She had an appointment with one of her regulars at six. She begged me to let her undo the makeup, at least take off the ass-pants. I looked at Allan and he shook his head. "There's no way of telling. I don't know these guys too well." Tiffany was on her knees, had been there since she swallowed Allan's cum fifteen minutes ago. She was gently licking his balls and the insides of his thighs while he just closed his eyes and enjoyed it.

"Just give me your professional estimate," I said.

"My guess? You'll lose a few. But word will get out and you'll pick up more."

I was puzzled so he continued. "A lot of these guys are freaks. But they never bring it up.  Look at what you have. A hot Asian slut who's masquerading as a low end crack ho? I can think of three guys who'd pay you top dollar for her right now. Two lawyers and a doctor."

"You like the dark skin?"

Allan shook his head. "Not nearly dark enough. But it's a start. You're doing a good job." I nodded, looked at Tiffany. She was burying herself between his legs, trying not to listen to us.

Willy took a draw from his cigar, held it, blew it out slowly. "You know they're gonna want to fuck her."

"Yeah," I said. Tiffany froze and I nodded to Allan. He pushed her head and she started moving again. I knelt behind her and ran my fingers between her cunt lips. "She's still a virgin. And very proud of it." I opened her lips and touched her clit. She juiced all over my hand and I wiped it down the inside of her thigh. I tugged at her cunt lips. "We're going to pierce these, you know. Allan, you want to watch?" Tiffany came again, grinding her ass against my hand now.

When my fingers were soaked completely, I pushed two of them against her tight little back hole. She was tight and I couldn't make any headway. I got my middle finger wet with her juice again and pressed my fingertip against her anus. "Relax," I whispered. She clenched but I pushed anyway. She groaned and grabbed my wrist. I pushed forward, slowly, moving back and forth, ignoring her attempt to pull me away.

"Tight?" Allan asked.

"Clench locked," I said. "This is going to take a while." Tiffany pushed her cheek against the inside of Allan's thigh, opened her legs and tried to relax. I felt her unclench and I pushed. My finger slid all the way in a single stroke. She sucked in her breath and shuddered. "Good, isn't it, Tiffany?" I slid my thumb up against her clit and rubbed. "Aiiiiiiiiiiii..." She came in seconds.

--- end

Tiffany Crosses the Color Line

CHAPTER TWO

** Tiffany's journey continues as she is turned into a black streetwalker. She leans to pole dance and is exposed in front of her roommate. **

NOTE: This trilogy picks up where "Tiffany Gets Decorated" left off. To learn more about these characters and how they got into this situation, you may want to read that series first - D

---

We made two more stops Saturday night. I wouldn't have known where to take her except for comments she'd made in some of her emails. I'd been working on a story and needed some information about the city, so I asked her to give me the name of a dangerous neighborhood or street in L.A. She immediately went to her race stereotypes and wrote back: "...anywhere around the USC campus is scary, and south LA is known for being black and dangerous.  hollywood is known for its whores, so maybe that would be even better..." I followed up by asking whether she'd ever played there. She wrote: "...aiiiiiiiii! NEVER, gyrl knows that she could be seen by people that know her here!!!!!!!!--" I flagged down a taxi and told him to take us to Hollywood.

The first stop was an adult bookstore at the far end of the hooker strip. In the taxicab on the way over, I took an envelope out of my pocket and handed it to her. "Go on, take a look." She opened it and started going through the stack of papers. "Just a little reminder," I said. The first half-dozen were photos of her posing and preening in her black ho getup. I'd taken them just after Liz finished the makeup job. Tiffany was still easy enough to recognize for anyone who knew her. Someone who didn't might mistake her for a light-skinned black girl with slightly Oriental features. When she turned sideways, the tits-and-ass stuck out like melons stuffed underneath her clothes.

The next piece of paper was a note with her parents' address at the top and a bright red lipstick kiss in the middle. Underneath, it said "love, Tiffany". She bit her lip and flushed red with anger. She handed the stack back to me.

"You don't want to look at the rest of them?"

Slowly, quietly, she said, "I don't need to."

The driver pulled up in front of the store. I paid him and sent him on his way. A couple of hookers stared at Tiffany as she stood on the sidewalk, nervously moving her feet back and forth while I looked in the store window.

"Yo! Sukiyaki!" one of the girls said. Tiffany hung her head and tried to vanish. "Hey! Bitch! You hear me?" the woman said, louder this time. She was a tall black girl with bright red hair and a body that was, as they say, built like a brick shithouse. Her long legs were bare and the tiny dress barely covered her big ass. The top was cut low and her huge cocoa breasts just barely managed not to spill out. "You workin' my corner, ho?" She stood right next to Tiffany who continued to ignore her. The girl grabbed Tiffany's cheek and turned her face toward her. "You hear me? You fuckin' deaf or somethin' Sukiyaki?" Tiffany was frozen with fear, her hands open and limp, knees shaking. I considered my move, decided to let it play itself out. The fear she was feeling would press her buttons and send her reeling. She'd feel the fear of black women that had been indoctrinated into her and at the same time feel the arousal of being on the submissive end of her commands. "Maybe I'll let you take a few of my tricks. Suck some cock then pay me the money." She shook Tiffany's face. Tiffany hung limp like a rag doll. "That OK with you, Sukiyaki?" Tiffany muttered a shaky "yes, Ma'am."

The big woman turned to me and sneered, "that OK with you "Mister Wannabe Pimp Man"?" I moved quickly toward her, pulled the Swinguard out of my pocket and touched the tip to the underside of her chin. "I'm not playing. And, no, I'm not fine with that." I looked at Tiffany. "Not yet, at least. But give me your name. I might be fine with that later." I folded the knife and put it back in my pocket.

"Keesha. And fuck you," she spit on the ground and let go of Tiffany's face, gave her a slap. "And fuck your stupid Chink-assed bitch too." She strutted across the street back to her corner.

Tiffany was trembling but I walked past her and into the store. Experiences like this would be good for her, so I had to let her process them herself. There was nothing like a good dose of fear to get the hormones flowing. Or so I expected. When she came into the store, I decided to test my theory. I pulled her close and gave her a full-mouth kiss. She was wild, hungrier than I'd ever seen her before. She wrapped her hands around my head and pulled me against her hard, lips open, tongue probing deep and hot.

I pulled my face back slightly. "Turned you on, didn't it?" She pushed her crotch against my leg and kissed me again, humping in small, quick jerks until she came."Aiiiiiieeeeeeee," she squealed. "Good little cunt," I said.

"I gotta get me some'a that," I heard a voice behind me. Others joined it. There were five men in the store, all black or Latino, thickly muscled, sweaty and grinning. And all walking my way. I couldn't have planned it any better. I looked at the woman behind the cash register. She took a drag from a half-finished cigarette and stared at me. She'd seen better days -- a long time ago -- but she'd seen worse. Nothing surprised her. "I don't want no trouble," she growled at me in a gravelly voice. "We're just having a little fun," I said calmly. She snorted and said, "gimme fifty dollars and you can use the glory hole between booths 4 and 5. Thirty minutes. Can she do 'em all in thirty minutes?"

"No problem," I said. "Give the lady fifty dollars, Tiffany."

"Tiffany!" "Whoo!" "Hot little bitch!" "Oh yeah!, Showgirl, eh!" the crowd muttered. Tiffany reached into her cleavage and pulled out a roll of bills I'd given her. "Oooh, nice day's work." "Look at that bankroll." "Lotta mooch in that cooch." "Big ass ho doin' all right for herself." "Yeah, and her pimp let her carry it all." She peeled a fifty off the top and handed it to the woman.

I took Tiffany into booth 4 and closed the door. She grabbed me and started crying, begging me not to make her do it. I realized this would be the line. Sucking off rich lawyers who were throwing money into your bank account was one thing. Sucking off five complete strangers -- and not even good, clean white boys -- was a different story. I let her go on for five minutes, not responding at all, before she stopped and lowered her head. "This is just the beginning, isn't it?" I nodded and pushed her toward the floor.

I knocked on the wall and the first cock came through the hole. It looked strange -- like the head of a snake or an eel just dangling in space. It was half-stiff already, a tiny drop of precum oozed out of the slit. Tiffany made a circle of her hand and slid the head between her thumb and index finger, stroking gently back and forth. The man moaned. Tentatively, she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the head. I let her go on for a few minutes then reached for her wrist. I shook my head and said, "no, you have to suck his cock", then pulled her hand away, at the same time pushing her head forward so the now-stiff shaft went deep in her mouth.

Tiffany spent the next half hour on her knees while the men in booth 5 took turns poking their cocks through the hole, cumming all over her face and neck. She swallowed some, spit out most, and let a lot of it dribble down her chin but she managed to suck them all off in twenty-four minutes. She wiped her mouth on her arm but that just left smeared, drying globs of cum all over her. When she came out of the booth, two of them were waiting.

"You got a good little cocksucker there," one of them said. "Whas her name?"

"What do you want it to be?" I said.

They laughed and one of them -- Benny -- said, "She looks like Tynisha, don't she?"

"Yeah, dog, Tynisha from downtown."

"That's fine," I said, turning to Tiffany. "Say it."

"Tieneeshuh." They corrected her three times before she got it right.

Benny turned to me. "You wanna make some real green, Tynisha?"

Tiffany froze. I sensed another opportunity to humiliate her, to remind her who owned her now. i said, "sure. Tell us about it."

Benny told us about a strip club down in east L.A. where the basement was set up for what he called "cocksucking on the grand scale". "True, man, nobody wants pussy or ass down there, it's all about the throat. They want it deeeeep, you know what I'm sayin'? and Tynisha here sucks real good, she took me deep and I got a big willy. She can do it easy."

I let him go on for another few minutes, all the time watching Tiffany's reactions. Her lifelong training had kicked in again, I could see she wasn't thinking about resisting, but was shifting herself, bracing herself for the inevitable. She swallowed hard once or twice. Testing her throat muscles?

"No can do," I finally said. "I've got appointments for her already tonight. But give me your number."

"You're missing out on some big green," Benny said. He wrote his number on a piece of paper and handed it to me. "You call me anytime you want to put little Miko here to work, OK?" He leaned back and stared at her ass. "You doin' that to attract the Black Man, ho?" He swatted it. "Cuz it's workin'. Wooo!"

"You take it up the ass, Mika?" the other one asked. He was shorter and had a sick look in his eye. I wouldn't leave her alone with him for a minute. But, I'd got lucky again, he was the perfect man to ask exactly that question.

"She doesn't," I said. "Not yet. But she needs to learn." Tiffany let a small whimper slip. "In fact, she came her to buy a set of dildoes to..." I stopped. "Tynisha, tell him what you came here to get."

We hadn't discussed or rehearsed any of this, so she froze, completely puzzled about what I wanted.

"Go ahead, don't be shy, bitch," Benny said. "Hell, you just finished sucking his dick." He turned to the other man. "Drank it all down too, din't she?"

"Hell yea, she never let go! She's got a vacuum cleaner for a mouth!" They laughed, then turned and looked at her. "Well?"

"I want to buy a dildo," she said slowly, looking at me out of the corner of her eye to see if she'd done it right.

"So..." I prompted.

"So I can play with myself," she finished.

I laughed and clapped my hands. "Well, that for certain. But," I turned to Benny and his friend again, "more specifically, she wants to buy a dildo or three to help stretch her ass, to help loosen it up, so she can, you know..." The men laughed and looked her up and down, licking their lips. "Give you what you want. Is it true you like to fuck white women up the ass not the cunt?" Tiffany just stared at her shoes while we talked about her for another few minutes.

Benny walked us to the side wall and pointed out an array of rubber cocks in all shapes and sizes. I chose four that ranged from about finger thickness to nearly a wrist. I paid for them then handed her the smallest one and a tube of lubricant.

"Go slide this in your ass then meet me at the door."

---

As soon as I opened the door, a pair of hands grabbed me and yanked me into the alley. I felt a fist slam into my gut and doubled over. Then, again.

"'Enough," I heard someone say.

I raised my head and saw stared into the eyes of what had to be a cartoon figure. A pimp decked out in ice-cream white suit, big gold and diamond rings on his fingers, a wide brimmed hat and a black cane. I turned my head and saw two girls -- Keesha and another -- walking slow circles around Tiffany, touching her face and chin.

"She done sucked someone off, Ray," Keesha purred. "Ha'n't you, Mika?" She ran her finger along the underside of Tiffany's chin and flicked the goo onto the sidewalk. "See, Ray? She all jizzy."

I started to walk forward but one of the two behemoths standing next to Ray inched forward and I froze.

"Is that true, white boy?" I nodded. "Your bitch sucked some black cock?" I nodded. "Then, I think you owe me some money." He shifted the cane to his other hand. "You're intruding on my business."

"Hey, man, anything you want." I dug into my pocket and took out two fifty-dollar bills and calmly handed them to him. "You think you can use her?" I asked.

"You tryin' to do business with me?" he laughed.

"You think you can use her?" I repeated.

He gave me a big grin and stepped back. Before I knew what happened, he jabbed the end of his cane into my belly and I doubled over again. "That's for pulling a knife on Keesha." He started walking away then stopped. "Come back next Friday, maybe I can find something for her to do."

---

I spent the next hour letting Tiffany get used to walking around with the littlest dildo up her ass. I paraded her in and out of coffee shops and bars, clothing stores and shoe stores, always making her stand and sit, letting her body gradually adjust to the six-inch invader. We walked into a jewelry store and I watched the security guard follow us as we went from case to case, looking at rings and necklaces, Tiffany "oooh"-ing and "aaaah"-ing the diamonds and gold. I considered having Tiffany steal something, knowing she'd be caught, knowing she would be treated like a cheap street thief, taken downtown, thrown in the holding cell with the other streetwalker. The fantasy ran through my mind but I rejected it. I had other plans for her.

It was nearly eight o'clock. I realized we hadn't eaten since before noon. I found a take-out BBQ restaurant on Santa Monica Boulevard and steered her into it. She complained, said that she didn't eat BBQ. I told her to shut up and sit on one of the stools facing the window. I brought her a tray of ribs and we went back out. I turned into a side street and handed her the tray and told her to start walking and eating. She wrinkled her nose but took a bite. She was less than halfway down the block before the men started showing up. A gang of six of them circled around her like sharks, taunting and yelling. She kept walking but her hands were shaking. She had sauce smeared across her mouth and down her chin. She did her best to flirt, laughing and joking, trying to defuse the situation. But it didn't take long before they took her into an alley. I needed to make sure my investment was safe, so I ran down the street. When I came up behind them, I saw that she was down on her knees, sucking one of them them and jerking off two more with her hands. They saw me but I raised my hand and said, "just watching." The first three came at nearly the same time, spraying their cum all over her face and hair.  The other three took their places while I shared the remaining ribs with the man whose cock she'd been sucking.

When they finished, she was soaked all the way down to her chest. I told her to push it all upward into her hair. When she was done, it was soaking damp and glistening. I took half a dozen shots, these would look good in my "just in case I need to remind you" collection.

---

I took her to a club on Santa Monica and paid two of the girls two hundred dollars each to teach her to pole dance. They took her into the back room and started taking off her clothes, but I told them to leave her the way she was. I expected her to put up a struggle but she was defeated. She'd sucked so much cock that day, swallowed so much cum, it was like she was a different person. One of the dancers sniffed her hair and whispered to the other. She did the same and they started talking about her. Tiffany was crying, muttering, "he made me do it..he made me do it," but they ignored her.

When the music started again, they walked her out on stage and started kissing her, rubbing their hands all over her body. Suzi helped her wrap her leg around the pole while Lulu showed her how to lick it like a huge golden cock. The room was full of men who kept yelling for her to take off her clothes. She started grinding her crotch against the pole and they cheered. "Cum, you slut!" She came quickly, a big damp spot forming between her legs. She was juicing heavy, between all the faces, the attention the girls were giving her, and the humiliation of having the small cock up her ass, her body was completely aroused and she was its slave.

She danced for two songs -- nearly ten minutes -- before they walked her offstage, limp and exhausted from nearly continuous orgasms.

"Take the bitch to the back room," I heard the club owner grunt to the girls. I paid him the hundred we'd agreed on and a steady stream of men followed us down the hallway. She sucked another eight men before I took her back to my hotel room to collapse on the floor and sleep, wondering what tomorrow might bring.

---

Tiffany woke up and tried to roll over. The costume was still on and the huge ass and padded top weighed her down. She ran her hand over her face and hair and started crying. The crusty residue from last night flaked off in her hand.

"Why?" she whispered, looking up at me with her big, seductive eyes.

"Go make me a cup of coffee," I said. She got up and walked into the hallway, looking for the kitchen. She put on water and searched for a cup. I'd left a bottle of instant coffee on the counter -- I didn't plan on drinking it anyway -- and she unscrewed the cap. There was nothing for her to do while the water boiled so she just stood and stared into the cup, lost in thought. I stayed halfway down the hall, I wanted to watch her, watch her as she contemplated her new life.

The water finally boiled. Tiffany scooped two spoons of instant into the cup then poured the water, gave it a few stirs and lifted it up.

"That's fine," I said, walking into the kitchen. "Put it down, we have somewhere to be."

"May I take a shower?" she asked in a quiet voice that told me she already knew the answer. I just walked out of the apartment, leaving the door behind me open for her to follow. I heard her pull it closed and she followed me down the hall.

"David? I need to use the bathroom."

"Later," I said, punching the button for the elevator and waited. "How does your ass feel?"

I saw her face change slightly and realized right away what had happened. Her body had adjusted, she'd forgotten it was there.

"What did you think that feeling was? When you stood up? When you walked to the kitchen?"

"I...thought I had to...to..."

"To use the toilet?" I asked. The elevator door slid open. There were two people inside. Tiffany froze and I nudged her gently forward. The woman pushed herself into the corner as tightly as she could, her eyes widening. The man, on the other hand, looked her up and down, his eyes always locking on her cleavage. I smiled at him and spanked Tiffany on the ass twice, then cupped her bottom in my hand. He smiled and nodded back. When the woman got off the elevator, I handed him a card with "Tiffany" and a fake number on it. He smiled.

---

"David, Sir! Oh God, please, no, please..." Tiffany kept up the refrain from the moment the taxicab dropped us off on campus, during the entire walk across the commons, and all the way to her dorm room. "What if Kaitee is there? What if someone sees me? What if...?" on and on and on.

The campus was empty, even for a Sunday morning. Tiffany kept looking from side to side but nobody recognized her. A few groups of students saw her and stared or whistled but nobody approached us.

Her dorm room was on the third floor. When we got to the top of the stairs, she fell on her knees and wrapped her arms around my legs. I had to admire her persistence. Giving it one last shot. She stroked my cock with her hand, promised me everything she could imagine, swung the earrings for me, raised her arm and said, "look, the tattoo, David, the tattoo. You've already marked me, David. What if Kaitee is home? It will destroy me!"

I let her go on until she accepted that it was having no effect then calmly walked down the hallway to her room.

"Knock," I said.

She raised her hand timidly and tapped lightly. "Nobody's here, we should..." was as far as she got before the door swung open.

Kaitee was amazing. She played "shocked" and "horrified" and "disgusted" overlaid with "concerned for her friend" and "puzzled" and "speechless". Tiffany bought it hook, line, and sinker and burst into tears, throwing herself through the door and running to her room. She didn't close the door and we saw her fall on the bed and curl into a ball.

"Enough of that for now. It has had its effect," Kaitee said to me. "Give her ten minutes then proceed with your plan. I like it. Keep updating me daily." She took a small, stylish jacket off a hook on the door, gave me a peck on the cheek, and took off down the hall. I watched her. She was every bit as hot as Tiffany and more. She had a little more meat on her bones and her face told me she didn't just tease. I shuddered when I considered that Tiffany would one day be this woman's absolute slave. It would be a very, very tough life.

Tiffany Crosses the Color Line

CHAPTER THREE

** Tiffany visits the tattoo-and-pierce parlor again, services a line of Mexicans in a strip club, and encounters Kaitee again **

I let Tiffany cry for exactly ten minutes then went into her bedroom and threw the envelope with the photos and letters on the bed in front of her face. She slid her hand upward and touched it, like a magical talisman defining and controlling her future. Slowly, she regained composure. She stopped crying, sat up on the bed, then dropped to her knees in front of me. She crossed her arms behind her back, hands holding opposite elbows, classic slave style.

"That's better," I said, picking up the envelope. "Take off the outfit, straighten your hair, and get scrubbed clean. I want you perfect in half an hour. I will have your clothing on the bed ready for you." She nodded weakly and started for the bathroom. She stopped. "Sir? May I use the toilet?" I leaned close and gave her a kiss on the tip of the nose. "Yes, dear. And leave the dildo on the shower floor for Kaitee to discover." She leaned forward about to speak but caught herself and nodded. "Yes, Sir."

It took her twenty-eight minutes to finish preparing herself. I didn't actually expect her to make it, unbraiding the cornrows should have taken a lot longer. She must have ripped through them, I could imagine how painful it was. But, she did it. Obedient, no matter the cost to herself. She was coming along just fine.

"Show off your outfit for me."

She turned slowly around, arms raised at a forty-five degree angle. The outfit was Latina-stereotype all the way. It hugged her body like a second skin, the outfit had short sleeves and the top was cut straight across the tops of her small breasts, the same place across her upper arms. There was a four-inch fabric frill all the way around. The tight skirt was slit up the right side all the way to her hip, showing that she was wearing shimmering sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose underneath. The high heeled shoes were just a sole and a series of thin leather straps that criss-crossed the top of her feet then wrapped around her ankle several times. The straps were tied there, then wrapped loosely several more times and tied again, giving a sort of top-of-the-boot look. She wore big, gold bracelets on both wrists, then a series of smaller gold bracelets above and below them. Gaudy green rings on her fingers added a nice touch to her Latin-whore look.

The seam of the dress was ripped on the left side, just above her hips. The neckline was frayed and the colors were faded. It was obviously from a second-hand store and not a good one at that. The jewelry was all costume and the leather of the shoes was worn and discolored. She looked like a cheap street tramp. Exactly what the doctor ordered.  Tiffany never left her dorm looking anything less than completely decked out. Now, she was a step down from a Wal-Mart special.

"And your ass?"

Without flinching this time, she turned around and bent over. She pulled the dress aside so I could inspect her.

"Open."

She knew what I meant. Tiffany reached around and pulled her ass cheeks apart. The middle seam of the pantyhose was open and reinforced from the front to the back of the waistband, I had full access to her naked crotch when she bent over. I got up and slowly walked to her. I pulled my finger an inch or so into her ass. She moaned and her knees bent. "Good. And you left the little one on the shower floor?" She nodded. "Then, let's move you up to the next size." The one she'd taken out was tiny, only three-quarters of an inch. She'd accommodated that easily last night and today. This was the second biggest size, a full inch in diameter and six inches long. It was probably a bit of a challenge for her but that was what I needed. I'd learned enough over the years to know that you didn't go from clenched tight to two inches wide overnight. And she needed to fully believe she was going to be an ass whore from now on. This would definitely help.

"Very good, you’ll be taking it up the ass in no time," I said, pushing it all the way into place. Her spinchter snapped tight around the base. "Stand up. I'll get us a taxi."

---

The taxi took us to the tanning parlor. The girls there stared at her, she blushed and tried to vanish. The young Latina women sneered at her outfit. "You still wanna go darker?" one of them asked.

"Yes, please," Tiffany asked, sounding as sincere as possible. They had her strip and put her in the booth, again giving her the maximum dose she could take without burning. She came out sweating and dehydrated, they let her shower and dress and drink one of Kaitee’s hormone-laced bottles of water.

The next stop was Carson's. It was midday Sunday and he was home sleeping off last night's party, but he'd set me up with one of his favorites, a big, dark tanned mountain of muscle who called himself Manny. We waited in room two while he finished up with the girl before us.

"You ready to be a bad girl?" I asked her. "This time, we'll put the tattoo somewhere your parents can't miss." I traced my finger over her left shoulder. "You're scheduled to go home in three weeks, aren't you?" She trembled and looked at me, her eyes begging like never before. I looked at her, trying not to give away the fact that I was having a hard time measuring her. Was she begging me to change my mind? Or begging me to go through with it? It hadn't really occurred to me that she'd slide into complete submission so easily. No, that's not exactly it. I knew she was submissive enough, but this was different. This was crossing another line. This would be a visible tattoo, not something she could hide with carefully chosen clothing. I felt my dick get stiff as my finger traced a random design on her skin. I had to get myself back under control again. I pulled down her top and flicked both of the nipple piercings until she cried out. That cleared my mind. I was back with the program.

"So, something evil and wicked on her shoulders, something that her parents won't be able to ignore."

"How about a skull? With a big snake crawling out of the eye socket?" Manny smiled, traced his finger over her flesh. "About this big, right here."

Tiffany was barely able to hold back her tears. She knew that if I made her cross this line, there would be no coming back. I let her sweat while he swabbed the shoulder and outlined the tattoo lightly. She was barely breathing, trying to control herself, muscles tight, brain swimming. Her normal life was about to end.

Manny switched on the needle and she heard it buzz as it came closer to her arm.

I reached out and took Manny wrist. He lowered the needle.

"I changed my mind." Tiffany looked at me, filled with both hope and fear. Manny just grinned.

"Pierce her tongue instead," I told Manny. "It will help her remember to keep her mouth closed when she’s around her parents." I smiled. “They’ll appreciate that.”

---

Tiffany's dark body twisted in the spotlight, the music blaring too loud to let anyone talk. She was soaked with sweat and beer, grinding her bottom against the brass pole the ran from the stage to the ceiling. She was naked except for a red G-string, pulled up hard between her legs and soaking wet. There were ribbons and brightly colored streamers hanging from her nipples, wrapped around the barbells and tied in tight knots. Her hair was plastered against her head, sweat dripping from the ends. I watched from a stool at the far end of the bar. The bouncer smiled and I smiled back. Four hundred dollars for him to keep her safe, he'd better be smiling.

Tiffany was already drunk, we'd been there for three hours, drinking for the first two and dancing since then. The place was wall-to-wall people, the heat was stifling and she was soaked with sweat long before she took off her clothes. I'd tipped the manager and one of the girls. Him for permission and her to make sure Tiffany put on a good show. Lexy got her started, replaced the panty hose with the thong, then sat on the stool next to me, trying to make a little more money the best way she knew how.

"Shots time, putana!" someone yelled. The other men in the bar took up the chorus. Someone unscrewed the top from the tequila bottle and set it down on the chair next to the shot glass. I watched Tiffany as she tried to focus on it. The chair was at the other end of the stage and it must have looked like a long, long walk. She let go of the pole but immediately fell to her knees. They started clapping and chanting, "crawl for it, crawl to it." She looked up and gave a sexy smile that made half of them hoot, then started crawling down the stage. She exaggerated her movements, stretching her legs behind her, making sure her belly touched the stage each step of the way. By the time she got to the bottle, the men were practically grunting, their lust palpable in the room.

She picked up the bottle and tried to pour a shot. It spilled all over the chair and onto the stage. She tried again and knocked over the shot glass. Someone grabbed the bottle and pulled the chair away. They started chanting for her to drink the spilled liquor. She got up on her knees, ran her hands over her body while they cheered, shuddered as she came, then threw herself forward, mouth open, tongue out, and licked the tequila off of the tiles. The crowd got quiet when they saw her tongue. The men were turned on now, the gold ball there told them everything they needed to know about her. She looked around, giggled and hooted again, trying to get the energy back in the room but it was too late. The place had turned from a roomful of drunks watching a woman shake her titties to a roomful of cocks needing to be satisfied.

Tiffany didn't know it, didn't sense it. But I did. I'd seen it before. I'd expected it. And I'd planned for it. I nodded to the bouncer who looked to the manager. He nodded back and the bouncer locked the front door. Lexy pushed through the crowd and took Tiffany's arm, pulled her off the stage and behind the bar before anyone could react. Then, the back door opened and a half-dozen hookers flooded in. I'd never seen anything like it, it was complete bedlam. The men took the hookers in the booths, on the tables, in the hallway, anywhere they could find a little bit of open space. Money was flying everywhere, the men pushing each other out of the way to be next in line.

But Tiffany was still the star attraction. She knelt behind the bar obediently with her hands clasped behind her back, knees wide open, and her mouth available to anyone who could find it. Lexy led the men there one by one, pocketing twenty dollars from each one who wanted to feel Tiffany's new piercing sliding across the bottom of their shaft.

When there were no more interested men, Lexy slipped Tiffany out the back door and got her dressed. I tipped her an extra hundred dollars and asked her to flag down a taxi for us.

---

I checked my watch. It was just before midnight. Tiffany was asleep on the bench, slumped against me, still damp and stinking of beer and tequila. I looked at her right leg, bare and exposed. The new tattoo circled her thigh, just where a stocking would sit. It looked like an abstract design until you looked closely. It was a series of naked bodies, a chain of silhouetted men and women, fucking and sucking in a continuous circle around her leg. I wondered if she'd looked closely. She had her eyes closed through most of the procedure, biting down on her lip as the needle stung her and shot the ink underneath her skin.

At midnight, Kaitee would be at one of the upscale clubs they used to frequent while there were trolling for free drinks. They'd abandoned it long ago and moved on to greener pastures but Kaitee was certain someone would recognize Tiffany. It would be another step downward for her. Especially looking like this. Especially if it was someone she'd led on. Especially if we let him have his way with her.

I woke her and we walked the last two blocks to the club. She was still a little drunk and didn't say anything until we were right outside. She smiled and laughed. "We used to come here." She leaned forward, looking at the doorman. "A lot of rich guys here. You know what, David? I like white guys. You all have a lot of money." She was drunk, taking liberties well beyond what I should have allowed. I remembered one of her emails. "gyrl likes 'white collar' cuz they have the money to make this work...makes me juice..." I felt the anger rising up again. Fucking tease bitch. I hoped we found someone she'd teased, someone who'd paid for dinner, drinks, dancing, hundreds of dollars just to be sent home with a peck on the cheek and a promise of "maybe more next time."

The bouncer stopped us at the door. Her clothes were still damp and she smelled like booze. I slipped him fifty dollars and he shook his head. Another fifty and he smiled and waved us in. Everyone stared. I made her walk with me to the far side of the room. She watched them watch her. As we walked, her steps got shorter, her head sank lower between her shoulders, her body tried to curl in on itself. I looked around for Kaitee, didn't spot her.

"Can we leave? Please? Can we leave?" she whispered futilely. I walked her to the bar and ordered two bottles of Corona. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and walked away. Maybe someone would take the bait, maybe not. In any case, I had to find Kaitee before the plan could proceed.

At ten minutes after twelve, Kaitee tapped me on the shoulder. I turned. "Look," she said. I turned and saw that two men were standing beside Tiffany, leaning close and talking to each other. She had a forced smile on her face and her hands glued to the bottle on the bar. "I know those two," Kaitee told me. "We were in here a while back." I looked at her. "They didn't get anything off her. But they bought a *lot* of drinks. A whole lot of drinks." I smiled. I wanted to watch how this played itself out. Two guys she'd snubbed, her dressed like this, obviously drunk, her defenses down.

But Kaitee wanted to keep things moving. She took me by the arm and walked me back to the bar. "Get lost," she said to the men. They backed off leaving the three of us alone. Tiffany started stammering, "Kaitee, oh, this is so odd . . . I will explain . . . I have . . . we . . ."

Kaitee stared at her unmoving while she drifted off to silence. Then, she took her arm and gently led her through the crowd again and out the front door. I followed, watching the crowd and nodding. Kaitee knew exactly where to take Tiffany for the greatest impact and she'd proved it again.

When I came through the front door, I saw that Tiffany and Kaitee were already halfway down the block. I ran to catch up just as Kaitee pushed Tiffany into an alleyway.

"Tiffany? Tiffany? What are you doing, my sister?" She started softly, sounding shocked and confused. I stood on the sidewalk and watched, Tiffany's back was to me, I had no idea whether or not she knew I was there. It didn't matter. This was Kaitee's show. "You've been drinking. You are drunk. You dishonor yourself and me. And your clothes, look at yourself. And your makeup. Are you trying to be a whore? A Mexican hooker?" Tiffany was crying and kept reaching for Kaitee, sobbing "I can explain...I can explain..." but Kaitee was relentless. "And earlier today! What did you do to yourself? Your hair was braided -- what do they call it? -- cornrows? And the padded pants. You looked like one of those black girls we saw on Hollywood Boulevard, the prostitutes. Why would you even dress up like that? ... Unless...unless you..."

Tiffany fell to her knees now, wrapped her arms around Kaitee's legs and cried, "no! No! I...I..." but she had nothing to say. She couldn't tell Kaitee what was really going on and she knew it. I could turn the pictures over to her family, to the school, to everyone she knew. Her life would be destroyed.

Kaitee waited a long time before she spoke again. Tiffany slid further down, now kissing her feet, the ankles and insteps, blubbering and begging her to forget what she saw. I looked at Kaitee and she looked at me and nodded. She mouthed, "just another few minutes". She was playing Tiffany expertly. Letting Tiffany punish herself was far more effective than anything Kaitee or I could do to her.

Finally, Kaitee said quietly, "are you ashamed of your heritage? Of *our* heritage?" Tiffany whimpered. "Is that why you are tanning yourself so dark? Why you wear those Hispanic slut earrings? Why you were wearing those horrible pants this morning? Were you out all night? Walking around trying to make men think you are a black girl?" She paused and let it wash over Tiffany. "Or a Mexican?" She crouched down and stroked Tiffany's hair. Tiffany moaned. "What are you going to do at school tomorrow?" She pulled Tiffany's hair, tilted her head back and looked into her eyes. "Will we call you a new name? Are you Maria now? Or LaDonna? Will you be dating only black men now?" She let go of Tiffany's hair and her face fell forward, the tears flowing freely onto the pavement. Kaitee delivered the final blow. "Do you want a new roommate?" Tiffany jerked up, threw her arms around Kaitee, pulled her close, crying loud now, "No, no, Kaitee, I love you, I want to be yours, I need to be yours, I want to be your slave, I've always wanted to be your slave. You own me, I want you to own me, body and soul. I love you..." she broke down into tears, buried her head in Kaitee's shoulder. Kaitee stroked her hair and looked at me.

Her smile sent shivers up my spine.

** This is the end of the second trilogy in the Tiffany series. Watch for the third trilogy soon if there is enough demand. **