Young Australian Female Journalist Coerced.
WARNING! This saga contains Non consentual themes, Lesbian scenes, hard fucking with old/young coersion.
The packed crowd screamed for more watching the tall lithe blonde Aussie 19 year old, open her legs, again, as she stepped off the elevated dais with an unavoidable obscene display of her wet slit, displaying her excitement.
It seems like a lifetime ago, I was such a naive young girl, learning about life, the hard way.
I was coming off the stage of a dingy, smoke filled night club in the back streets of a historic town known for its wealth of impressive old stone temples and buildings. It was in 1998, and I was naked, apart from the high heels on my feet. The groping hands of the arrogant and drunk Cambodian General led me back to his rowdy table, this was not what I had planned doing that weekend, or ever!
I hated myself for being turned on as I was compelled to strip butt naked, like the poor Asian girls that had been on stage earlier. But yet I was thrilled, having all those men look at me with such unashamed lust, as I was forced to expose my nudity so completely. I was so horny, with the mix of shame and the buzz, of being forced into doing the smutty exotic dancing.
My thin tanned waist flared to the white of my modest bikini lines above and below it. My 34, 22, 34 inch measurements were just shy of the 36,24,36 American dream girl. The cute firm cheeks of my bottom were so white, as was my crutch with it's neat tuft of blonde pubes. All my private bits were displayed, as if I highlighted my play zones by selected tanning just to make them standout for them. As if those leering men didn't know where to look. But the pink of my spread lady bits attracting all the hungry eyes of the audience
My amazing world had come crashing down so quickly, my life was out of my control. I had just stripped on stage for the first time, ever. Not because it was on my bucket list, but because the General had forced me. I looked around at gaggle of film cameras, flashing and clicking away, so close now as the General curled his middle finger up and easily slid it into my slick vagina, so moist from my intense eroticism. I allowed him to have intimate access to my body with his index finger in the glare of the camera flashes, without protesting. The audience knew he owned me. He led me away from the stage like a farmer leading a prized cow from the show ring, beckoning me with sharp tugs on my privates as I stumbled, tottering behind him inn the heels.
"The photos?" I asked loudly, so the General could hear me above the beat of the club music blaring so loud you could feel it shake through your chest.
"I own all cameras and photo boys." The General smirked, his English affected by the alcohol. His other hand groped up my body, grabbing my right nipple and pulling out from my chest lewdly and twisting it for ages, ensuring my submission and humiliation was well recorded by the skinny minions photographing for the General.
My boobs are what you expect from a girl that grew up on the coast, surfing and swimming everyday, perfectly shaped in a B+ cup size, my poor right nipple was now pulled out the further-est it ever had been, changing my whole boob into a cone as he cruely tormented my nipple. My tan line made the white cone and the nut brown nipple stand out against my bikini tanned 5 foot 8 inch form.
Suddenly my nipple was released and and the General thrust his finger deeper into my wet private depths.
"Now you suck it, suck your teat like a thirsty baby, suck, suck, sucky!" Ordered the General.
"What the fuck, I can't suck my own nipples, I have small boobs, I'm no porn star!" I protested.
The General ground his finger deeper into me and said up close to my ear,
"You suck now, or I will stretch tit so long it will be lower than your knee and then you can fuck it instead. What you want? Sucky or Fucky nipple?"
So here I was, tugging hard on my breast to make my nipple reach my lips, my neck aching with the strain of bending it, naked in a crowded club, being fingered by a bully, I could hear my pussy squelch above the din of the crowd. Every movement recorded by the camera crew. Funny, they didn't mention how to deal with situations like this in the Journalism Degree I completed just 6 months ago.
To my surprise my nipple was almost at my lips, I pushed on and with one hand yanking on my painful breast, pulling towards my face, the other gripped the nipple and pulled it hard to get the tip to my mouth. The General's nipple torture threat must have made my body react, because suddenly I was able to clamp my lips on my tortured teat and suck hard on my nub, strangely giving me dual senses. One of relief that my nipple and tit weren't going to be mangled and one of self arousal. My body must have relayed my victory to the audience as they all cheered, except for 3 businessmen sitting at the General's table who were shouting and waving at the General.
"You cheated, you the stretched nipple, our bet is not valid!" The Indian businessman yelled.
"No pay, you bent the rules and nipple!" The Chinese businessman screamed.
"God damn, General you are ONE... SICK... FUCK!." The American emphasised.
The General took his wet finger from my slit and rubbed his thumbs and fingers together with his upturned palms to the 3 men at his table, wanting payment for his winning bet. His hands were soon filled with wads of notes as the 3 conceded the General had won. I was just an amusement for their power games and gambling habits. But I continued to suck my nipple, my other hand was now caressing my neglected left nipple without thinking and then went to my throbbing clit. I stroked my love button and sparks of joy flooded my body.
"Whoa Cassie, pull yourself together girl!" I told myself aloud, before I fiddled myself to climax, lifting my head away from my elongated wet nipple. I had caught myself masturbating, naked, in a dingy dodgy club in the wild west of South East Asia. I needed to control my libido and work on my escape. My libido seemed to always get me into compromising situations.
6 months ago, at the end of 1997, I was on top of the world as I was the only one graduating from my class that had scored a great paying job in journalism at an amazing part of the world going through so many changes, I was at the epicentre of World news. I had been fast tracked into Uni and through my degree, hence I was still only a teenager.
The multinational news company that hired me held itself up as the guardian of societal values. The only catch was they were sending me straight to the Hong Kong Bureau. Hong Kong had just been handed back to China by the British, but China promised to have a one country two government policy, keeping Hong Kong autonomous.
It was exciting but daunting, and far better than my other mates from Uni sent out to Australian country regional papers and television stations, stuck filing reports on Mrs Smith's Budgie that can say 60 different words, or how the local council doesn't fix the broken footpath outside of Mr Brown's home.
Don't get me wrong, I did spend a month in a big regional town as part of my degree as an "Intern" slaving for a pittance at a syndicated local paper. That's how I knew how lucky I was. I had spent time in the hoe hum world of suburban journalism.
During my time in the country town, apart from watching their journalists covering the mundane stories that filled the local paper, I had made a major breakthrough on my first solo assignment. Which is the reason I was selected to join one of the main players in the news industry upon my graduation. That one story had made my career fly!
I better let you know about it, as I began to learn so much about myself that month, and my damn elevated libido.
On my first day at the regional news office as an intern I had to wait around to meet the busy local editor, my 'boss' for the month. In the meantime one of the office girls showed me around and then said I had to sit for a profile picture that all the journalists had for their bylines.
On hearing that, a slovenly older bloke popped up from his open office cubicle and leered at me, before saying,
"Oh yeah, I reckon I could take a photo of her that wouldn't be too scary for our readers, be hard work with that rough mug she has, but I love a challenge, ha ha."
The office girl cringed, before saying,
"I was hoping Simon was free, sorry Jim." She said, trying to protect me from the crass man.
"Nah, he's away covering the cricket comp, looks like I'm your tog, toots, it's your lucky day!" Jim said before forcefully grabbing my elbow and hurrying me away. I was in shock at the manhandling, but too stunned to object. The office girl lowered her face to her hands and shook her head as if she knew something bad was about to occur.
He directed me upstairs, where no one worked, it was a jumble of used furniture and old filing cabinets, just storage, but in the far corner was a makeshift photo studio.
I hadn't planned to have my picture taken today, in fact a lot of my luggage had failed to arrive. So I was just wearing a mismatched outfit that I was able to make out of what I had in my carry on luggage.
Jim posed me on the stool and turned the bright lights on. He focused the big camera that sat on a tripod and held the remote cable ready to shoot.
The harsh hot lights were intense as I sat there nervously. I hadn't prepared, I would have had my hair and nails done and someone do my make up.
"That's no good, you need to change that black bra, its showing through your white blouse. We can't have our female staff looking like whores in our company profile pics." Jim said with authority. "Unless you want to look like a whore? Or are you a whore, Cassie?"
"NO! Of course not. Listen, Jim, is it? I can duck back to my accommodation and change blouses, I think I have a black one, but my white bras haven't arrived, they must be in my missing suitcase?'' I said trying to be helpful and hoping that will stop the oaf from being so rude.
"Have you seen any of our profile pics in dark shirts? Nah, we all wear white shirts, makes us look a little more honest and trustworthy than we really are, so unless you have a white bra in your pocket, you are just going to have to lose the black one, just for the shot." Jim said firmly.
Being at my first workplace and not wanting to cause a scene, I thought I had better comply.
"I'll just go to the girls bathroom and take it off Jim."
"Listen Princess, I don't have all day, it's not like I have never seen a pair of knockers before. Fuck, I used to shoot the page three girls back in the day. All those young spunks baring their tits for me just to get in the paper showing off their fun bags to the world. Those were the days. I might have to go back to England, they still have the tits out babes on page three. Now hurry up, ditch that fucking ugly bra, did you borrow that from your grandma?"
I was fuming inside, who did this grub think he was.
"Well turn around and no peeking then until I say I am ready." I said, hoping to appease him.
"Righto then precious, I promise I won't turn around until you call out, OK?" Jim said cockily.
"Fine, but if you break your word, I will tell everyone."
"Whatever cupcake, just get on with it, I have more important things to photograph, don't think you are so special."
What an obnoxious knob I thought.
I was going to turn my back to him to change, but thought I better keep my eyes on him, he had no hint of being trustworthy.
I unbuttoned my tight blouse and took it off and sat it on my lap for quick access should he try to sneak a peek. I reached around and unclasped my bra as I stared at the back of his head, I was so tense, like a wound up spring, ready to cover up quickly in case he turned around.
