Starfucer

Sneaking through the dark dusty backstage area at the OmniTheatre, I was beginning to feel lost -- what if I couldn't find the dressing rooms?

"I played here," said the six-inch ghost of Frank Zappa sitting on my shoulder. "Dressing rooms are back that way." I turned and headed in the direction he pointed.

It was going great! Soon I'd be in the dressing room with Larry and the Honkers!! Soon I'd be naked and finding out if Larry Donovan really did have the size cock the package in his pants indicated!!! Soon I'd be getting fucked for the first time in my teenage life!!!!

And a hand grabbed my shoulder and a voice said "Well, well, well -- what have we here?"

I froze, and then the hand on my shoulder tightened, and I had no choice but to turn around and face my captor. Judging by the toolbelt, the "Miracle Sound" ("If it sounds good, it's a miracle!") t-shirt, and the neckchain with the laminated cards (one said "CREW -- All Area" and the other one had the Honkers' logo on it), I'd been caught by a roadie.

Judging by the 42D tits stretching the XXXL shirt. Larry and his buddies were Equal Opportunity Employers.

Of course, the fact that this chick was at least six foot ten and looked as if she could have spotted Wonder Woman the first lick... I mean, punch... and still fought her to a draw might have had something to do with it, too -- I mean, someone has to move the really heavy stuff, right?

"Oops," Frank remarked mildly from my left shoulder.

"Ummm... I'm looking for the Little Girls' Room... ?" I tried, with what I hoped was a placating smile (about the same smile I'd have tried on a large and hostile looking tiger, say).

"Yeah, right," she said, with a nasty little grin. "Well, I guess you're little enough to use one of those..." She looked me over carefully, top to bottom (and then down to the floor, too) and bottom (i could almost feel her eyes on my ass in the tight leather microskirt) to top (she seemed to be amused by the Cowboy Mouth t-shirt) and then up to my face, too. "I think I'll just waltz your little groupie ass over to the cop working Security and have him arrest you for trespass. I doubt a little thing like you is good for much, anyway."

Suddenly there was a noise -- literally a noise -- going on in the back of my head. You know how in old World War Two movies about submarines, when they submerge, there's this noisy loudspeaker going "Ooogah! Oooogah! Dive! Dive!"? Well, in the back of my head, and so loud I was amazed she couldn't hear it, there was like a loudspeaker going "Oooogah! Oooogah! Dyke! Dyke!"

I'd heard about something called "gaydar" -- I guess FG gave it to me with everything else. I really did want to have a little chat with him about his sense of humor, though.

And then I realised that the "Ooogah!" routine, having gained my attention, was over, and now it was like a little bell was going "Ding Dong Domme! Ding Dong Domme!"

I was definitely going to have to have that little chat with FG about his sense of humor.

Frank apparently got the message, too. "Act scared, act like you'll do anything to keep her from turning you in..." he hissed in my ear.

So I did.

"Oh, please, don't make them arrest me! My Daddy would spank me black and blue if I was arrested..." I looked up at her, tears in my eyes, lips trembling. "I didn't really want to come here, anyway, but my girlfriend made me do it!"

I could see that the mention of spanking and of my (fictitious) girlfriend making me do things registered with her; I could also see her eyes checking out my body again. Instinctively, I shifted to one side so that the micro rode up a bit, showing the top of my stocking, the tanned flesh above, and one of the garters holding it up. That went over pretty well, too.

"Well, you're a sad little kitten, aren't you?" she said, letting go of my shoulder, but standing where she could grab me if I tried to run.

"What's your girlfriend got to do with it?" she asked.

Sniffling a little, like I was ready to bust out bawling at any minute, I answered "She -- she bet me I couldn't dress up slutty and get backstage at a concert," I said. "Whichever of us loses has to be the other's servant for a month." That definitely got her attention.

"Servant?" she asked, running her tongue over her lips and looking down at me again, hands on her hips, which propped those big (braless) tits up as if they were on a shelf right above my head. I noticed that I was starting to get somewhat interested in how this was going to turn out, too. In fact, right then we could have been having a t-shirt nipple-bump contest; the only reason she'd have won is 'cos hers were larger to start with. "What kind of 'servant', Kitten?"

"Ummm, well, clean her rooms, make her bed, do her laundry, ummm..." I artistically trailed off, holding my breath to make my face turn red.

"Uh huh. And help un-make the bed, maybe?" she asked with a grin.

"What? Oh, no, no -- I wouldn't do that! I'm not that kind of girl! I wouldn't..." I looked down, and scuffed a toe on the floor, again drawing attention to my leg and (let's face it) crotch. She looked down, grinned again, and then reached out a big (but slim) hand and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at her.

"Maybe you wouldn't do that, Kitten, but it sounds as if your girlfriend is a 'do that' kind of girl for sure." I looked away, as if avoiding her eyes, without actually breaking eye contact. "And maybe with ropes and collars and other stuff, too?" she asked with a sly grin. I let a scared expression cross my face, and I quivered artistically, just a little.

"Well, you know, this may be your lucky day, Kitten."

I pretended to look up hopefully.

"I don't think I'll turn you in -- but you do have to be punished for sneaking around my backstage, to -- let's say -- pay your admission."

"P-punished?" I stammered, allowing a few more tears to leak out, trickling down my cheeks to the hand that held my chin.

"Yeah. 'P-punished'," she said with an evil grin. "A spanking, but probably not as bad as your old man would give you." She looked around. Over in a corner, behind some sheets of plywood standing on edge that would hide the area from most people passing by, was what looked like a beat up old couch. "Let's go" she said, spinning me around and giving me a push in the middle of my back in that direction.

I noticed that her hand lingered for a moment, and, in fact, dropped down to momentarily stroke my cheeks through the thin leather.

I was definitely feeling that good old warm feeling in my middle by now.

It was an old couch. Beat up, but still sturdy, it looked as if it was the center of an improvised crew break area -- a coffee pot and a cooler of beers and soft drinks were there, too.

"Bend over there," she said, pointing at the nearest arm, "put your hands on the seat cushion, and lean your weight on them."

As I did, I could feel myself having to go up on tiptoe, and I was willing to bet that the way my legs and butt were stretched by the position was a sight to see.

"Okay, Kitten, get ready... , " she said, and I could feel her hand stroking my ass, rubbing it firmly as she muttered "now... just how should I do this... ?" I could also feel a small trickle of warm juice.

Then I felt my short skirt pulled right up, exposing my butt completely; I could imagine what she saw -- the thong of my panties running down between the cheeks, framed by the straps of the garter belt, the tan, line-less cheeks... the moisture in the crotch of the panties...

Again her hand touched me -- skin to skin, this time, resting gently first on one cheek, then the other with little stroking motions... soothing, petting motions, as she crooned "What a dear sweet little tanned Kitten it is..." and...

"SMACK!" my left cheek suddenly stung like fire. This wasn't any playing-around, for-funsies; this was a serious spanking. I bit off a whimper as...

"SMACK!" the right cheek suddenly burned as well, and...

"SMACK!" on the left again and I almost hollered, and tried to twist loose, but her hand on the small of my back held me down, and...

"SMACK" on the right again, and this time I did whimper, and...

I heard her laugh, not nastily, but definitely not sympathetically, either.

"Little Kitten's all red!" she said. "Does it burn, Kitten? Does it hurt?"

"Y-yes," I said, still not trying to cry -- not so much from the pain, but from the humiliation.

"Mustn't have Kitten's ass burning while she tries to boff the band!" she said, and I could see her reaching down for something.

Suddenly cold wetness pressed against my burning asscheeks, shocking contrast to the pain it relieved. She rolled it back and forth, and I was able to glance back, before her free hand pushed my head back, and briefly see that she had a cold, sweating can of Tall Toad malt liquor and was rubbing it on my ass.

After the heat and pain of the spanking, it felt wonderful, but I wasn't ready for her to suddenly turn it and use the can to stroke my pussy up and down through my panties. I couldn't help it, I let out a little "Ooo!" of surprise and, to be honest, pleasure.

She chuckled again. She let go of my head, and stepped back. I began to get up, thinking it was over, and immediately her hand was on my head again, holding me down.

"I didn't say you could get up yet, Kitten!" she snapped.

"I'm sorry..." I began.

"'I'm sorry, Mistress, ' Kitten," she said firmly. "Say it!"

"I'm sorry... Mistress..." I muttered.

"Very good." She let go of the back of my head again, and then her other hand began to stroke my ass, fingertips slipping down along the crack to touch the warm material of my panties, then back up again...

"Oh, my... " she laughed. "Such a warm Kitten it is. If I stroke it and caress it, will it purr for me?" Through the cloth, I could feel her blunt fingernails tracing along the lips of my cunt. God! It felt wonderful! Even the slight left-over burn from the spanking felt sexy under her stroking hand...

And she stopped.

I must have made some sound of protest, because she said "Don't question Mistress, Kitten."

Suddenly I heard a jingling sound and then the sound of a zipper, as she stepped around into my sight. Her toolbelt was on the floor, her regular belt was undone, buckle jingling as she moved, her zipper was down, and she was unbuttoning the waistband of her jeans.

As she slipped them down over her hips, I saw that under her work clothes she had made at least one concession to being sexy; her panties were a black thong with a "Joan Jett & the Blackhearts" logo on the front. She saw where I was looking, and she chuckled "Worked crew on one of her tours. Lots of little confused kittens try to get to Joan, you know. It's where I started really liking the feel of a warm, soft, fuzzy kitten..."

Hooking her thumbs in the band that passed over her hips, she slipped her panties down, and stepped out of them. She stood there in my view, naked from the waist down, like some sort of warrior goddess from barbarian days, getting ready to rape a couple of captives. That image was stimulating even before I thought it through and realised that I was the only captive she had handy.

There was definitely a swamp-like feeling in the crotch of my panties by now. Stepping back to the couch, she reached under me where I leant forward on my hands with my middle supported by the arm, up under my shirt, and she gently but firmly grabbed my tit; lifting the globe of flesh and squeezing it some in her huge hand, then letting it fall again as the pinched the nipple and rolled it 'round between thumb and fingertip. I couldn't help it; I closed my eyes and let out an "Oooo" of pure pleasure.

"Feel good, Kitten?" she asked. Blushing bright red -- lust, not simulated embarrassment this time -- I nodded my head just a little, as if ashamed of myself for admitting it. (Actually, I was hoping that if I looked reluctant, she'd do even more... And she did.)

Reaching round me on the other side with her left hand, she began kneading, pinching, stroking and fondling both of my tits, bringing my nipples up like bullets. She played me like an instrument as I lay there, letting go of one tit and reaching back to stroke my ass again, letting her fingers slip between the cheeks and tease my asshole. It was sooo good. I let my head hang down and just moaned in pleasure.

Suddenly the pleasure stopped, and her two big hands, one on each side of my head, raised my head till I was staring at the blonde curls that matched the thick blonde braid that hung down her back.

"I've got a kitty, too," she said softly. I could see the parted lips of her sex, and the pink inside... and the moisture, glistening on the lips and hairs. "My kitty doesn't feel quite clean," she continued, sitting down on the couch near my head, continuing to stroke my hair as if I were actually a kitten. "I want it clean, and here I have another little kitten who'll be glad to clean it up for me..." suddenly her hand grabbed at my hair tightly enough to hurt, and she forced me to look up into her eyes, "Won't you, Kitten?"

The pain in my scalp and the stress on my neck left me with only one plausible answer. "Y-yes," I choked out.

"'Yes,' what?" she demanded, pulling my hair a little tighter.

"Yes... Mistress," I managed to get out.

"Good!" she cooed, letting go of the handful of hair and beginning to stroke my head again, gently, almost soothingly. "And how do little kittens wash things that aren't clean, Kitten?" she asked.

"I... I don't know, Mistress. How do they wash things like that?"

Suddenly she twisted 'round on the couch, her long, sexy, muscular left leg flashing high like a dancer's, over my head and then down past my shoulder, resting at the knee on the padded armrest that I was bent over, her foot dangling, her right leg partly on the cushions, foot on the floor.

Before I realised what was happening, she seized my head with both hands, hissed "With their tongues, stupid Kitten," and shoved my face down into her crotch.

For a moment, blinded and almost suffocated, with the hot smell of her in my nose and the taste of her juices smeared all over my face, I panicked and struggled, trying to get loose, forgetting that this -- or something like this -- was part of the plan.

"Stop wiggling, Kitten -- get to work!" she said in a growly voice.

I got hold of myself (figuratively speaking), managed to draw back just a bit, and experimentally stuck out my little pink tongue and licked at the inside of her thigh. She moaned, just a little, in the back of her throat.

I turned my attention to the curly-furred blonde pussy I was being pushed against; licked gently up and down along the spreading outer lips, savoring the taste -- one I only knew from my own fingers -- and then did it again. "Yesss..." I heard her voice.

I licked my own lips, gathering up more of the greasy liquid that coated them, then returned to the hungry pussy that was so accessible, so wide open for my tongue. I teased the lips, feeling them puff up and open even more widely, lipped them and sucked on them, nipped at them gently with my little, sharp teeth (somehow I seemed to know exactly what to do), then plunged my tongue as far as it would go into the hot wet hungry hole between them.

Thrusting my tongue inside her cunt, licking at her lips, I raised one hand from the couch, and hooked my arm around her right thigh, tickling its inner flesh and the place where it joined her body with my long red nails. Supported by my arm 'round her leg, I was able to raise the other hand from the couch, and to reach up a finger and to begin to trace along her cunt lips as my tongue continued to explore her inner folds. (I was beginning to realise that, however tiny my tongue might appear when I just stuck out the tip, it must be longer than Gene Simmons's tongue if I stuck it all the way out... ). Then I used two fingers, one tracing each hot moist lip... for a moment.

Then I raised my head, and my tongue-tip gently flicked at the hooded bump at the top of her cunt.

She gasped, her whole body shook, and her hands pulled me to her again, her thighs pressing tightly against my ears. I could visualise her, the tall, amazonian body lying on the couch, her head thrown back, eyes half-shut in pleasure, both her long long legs over my shoulders now, as I greedily licked and gobbled at her wonderful hot cunt.

As I teased and tickled her clit with my tongue tip, luring her out from under her hood, where I could worship her properly, I slowly slipped one finger of my right hand into her pussy, slowly penetrating that hot, gripping hole. Carefully, gently, I began to stroke her with that finger, in the same rhythm that my tongue was lapping at her clit with.

Another moan, and her hips began a slight humping motion against my hand and tongue. Still concentrating on her clit, but occasionally slipping my tongue downward to where my finger slid more and more deeply inside her with each gentle thrust it gave, I added another finger, slowly, gently working that inside her cunt, also.

She was beginning to twist on the couch, moaning almost constantly in rhythm with my tongue and fingers in her cunt, as I added a third finger to the two that by now were literally plunging in and out as if they were a slightly undersized cock, finger-fucking her ruthlessly, licking up her juices, belabouring her clit with my lashing tongue, as more and more of her juice ran down my chin and dripped on the old leather couch. My other hand had slipped upward, stroking across her flat belly, teasing her deep bellybutton, and found its way under her t-shirt, where my fingers stroked, fondled and teased at her wonderful firm breasts and hard nipples, bringing even more moans of pleasure.

Her hands came up, clutching again at my head, pushing me to her, but with an odd combination of need and gentleness as her hips suddenly began to buck in rhythm with my tongue and fingers, twisting and thrashing as she moaned more and more loudly until, with one sudden wordless yell, she pushed them up into my face one more time, and all of her muscles went rigid as she hung quivering and her cunt began to twitch and pulsate with orgasm, milking at my fingers as if trying to suck them deeply inside her...

She gave three or four more gigantic lunges with her hips, almost screaming with each, as she continued to cum, then collapsed limply back onto the couch, letting go of my head and just lying there limp for a moment.

Slowly, she raised herself upward, looking down at where I lay with one cheek on her thigh, drawing patterns with her glistening juices on her other thigh.

"Damn, Kitten -- " She reached down and lifted my chin to look at my face. "That was about the best I've ever been eaten out, and I've been licked by pros."

Looking at me, at the smile that must have been on my cum-coated lips, she said "You don't have a bet with a girlfriend -- or even a girlfriend to be with, do you, Kitten? You played me. Naughty, naughty Kitten. Maybe you need another spanking?"

Even though I smiled and shook my head "no", the thought caused a little twitch somewhere in my girlparts. Maybe I was naturally submissive.

But the jolt of stimulation reminded me that, while I had just participated in the first true sexual act of my life with another adult, I had not gotten off. I was, to use an expression I'm sure my grandfather thought I hadn't heard him say, horny as a three-peckered billygoat. Without even thinking about it, my hips were twisting and moving, trying to rub my hungry pussy against the arm of the couch in an effort to find some relief.

My giant lover noticed, and said, with an evil grin and twinkle in her eye, "Awww -- Kitten wants to be petted too, hmm?" with an arched eyebrow.