Average

Shelley glanced at her reflection as she passed the large mirror outside the elevator doors. She was so average. As the elevator reached her floor, she tried to remain focused on trying to enjoy this, her first holiday in years.

She had a tedious job in a prairie city that could be crushingly lonely. She had little contact with her family, except her sister, who lived a hundred miles away; a short drive she took once a month or so. Shelley loved Meg more than anyone in the world. It was Meg who had walked away from the oppressive life that lie before her if she took the path demanded of her by their parents, who were staunch fundamentalist Christians. It was Meg that smoked weed and listened to Tool, and worked as a waitress in a strip club to save up the money to start her business. Now she had 30 people working for her, and lived in sin and comfort with her man, Ben. Shelley wanted to be just like Meg when she grew up. She still did, at thirty five.

Sometimes, she wondered if the loneliness was driving her mad; the closest she'd been to intimacy in years had been to e-chat with the few men who'd responded to her posting on some cheesy "Horny Alberta Girls" website. However, there had been few of those; she was honest enough with herself to see how plain and undesirable she appeared in the photo she'd posted of herself. She'd fiddled around for hours setting up her camera to photograph herself in a rather unflattering bra and panties. Not one man pursued any sort of contact with her after the first chat room conversation they'd have with her, though many were initially attracted to her rather desperate claim of being "willing to try anything".

As she carried her bags toward her room, she heard footsteps behind her. Pulling the keys from her pocket, a voice from behind her clearly spoke her name. She turned and saw two people approaching her, a man and a woman. The man was tall, with a steely gaze and a military haircut. the woman was also tall, a blond, and disarmingly attractive. Although not actually wearing uniforms, they were obviously on government payrolls.

"How do you know my name?" she asked them, feeling immediately intimidated in spite of the pair's affable demeanor.

"Department of Immigration and Naturalization, Ma'am. We'd just like to see your passport, please." the man stated evenly.

"Oh, sure, I have it right here in my purse..." Shelley replied, feeling the nervousness in her voice as she dug to the bottom of her purse. The two Feds carried her bags into the room for her.

"Oh, thanks, but I could have......", Shelley said nervously, as she began to panic. She could not find her passport in her purse.

"No trouble at all, Ms. Van Rhys," the blond replied. "The sooner we can see your passport, the sooner you can get on with your holiday."

The knot in her stomach began to tighten as she started going through her wallet for the third time. That passport had been in her purse not more than an hour earlier.

"Perhaps in one of your bags, Ma'am?" the man queried.

"No, I'm sure...." she faded off, real fear creeping into her tone. "I know I have it, I know it's here somewhere, it's...."

"Well, let's just be calm, I'm sure it's here. If you would be so kind as to unpack your bags for us," the blond said to Shelley as she scanned her body English. "Chances are, it's in there."

Shelley unpacked the things she'd bought for the trip; some new blouses and skirts, sandals, a sun hat. The new underwear that Meg had purchased for her at a boutique on Seventeenth Avenue in Calgary. Just a few bras and panties; Shelley was shocked when the total cost was nearly fifteen hundred dollars. There it was, laid out across the bed; a lonely woman's desire to be fucked, desired, far from her normal, boring life. She felt pathetic as the two scrutinized her pretty things, the plumage she so desperately hoped would attract....someone.

"If you could open this, please." the man said to her as he passed a zippered velvet bag to Shelley's shaking hands.

"God, not this." she thought to herself, wondering why the hell they needed to do this.

"Please, it's just some.... personal things, that's all, just, um..." She was in tears.

"Unless you have some contraband in that bag, and for your sake, let's hope you do not, I suggest that you show us the contents, Ma'am." the blond said to her, impatience and suspicion growing in her voice.

Shelley laid the contents of the bag on the dresser. A tube of Astroglide personal lubricant. Some more of the expensive panties Meg had bought her. A filthy little novel of lesbian lust, written by a woman with the evocative name of "Tereska Torres". And finally, a thick black dildo, nearly a foot long. She glanced at her face in the mirror; it was a mess, puffy- eyed, her makeup a trashy looking disaster.

"Why the fuck is this happening?" she thought to herself, as the blond picked up the large silicone phallus, an expensive one at that, and examined it, bringing it to her face as she sniffed it lightly.

"Am I correct in assuming that you get a lot of use from this big boy, Ms. Van Rhys?" the blond asked, sounding a little cocky.

The blond was right; Shelley had used that big black tool on herself a lot. But what the fuck business was it of hers, anyway? A woman that looked like that would have no problem getting as much real cock as she wanted, and Shelley wondered if the blond wasn't trying to get under her skin, to throw her off balance even further.

The blond handed Shelley the dildo. She put her hand around it, her fingers barely able to wrap around it's girth. The blond, however, did not let go of it, She looked directly into Shelley's eyes and asked her if she was aware that the novel that she'd brought with her could be considered obscene material, and that she could be detained or deported for possessing it.

She then asked Shelley, "Are you a lesbian?"

The blond let go of the dildo, leaving Shelley standing in the middle of the room, holding the huge rubber prick. The blond picked up the novel, a well used copy printed back in the fifties, and leafed through it. Mixed with the lurid descriptions of locker room longing and sapphic self satisfaction, was the faint aroma of the secret places it had been hidden over the last half century; the cedar chests and leather bags and lavender scented drawers, and the subtle wisp of the places the fingers that had turned these pages had touched while reading them.

The blond slipped the novel into her pocket, and once again asked, with a dark, intimidating tone in her voice, "Are you a lesbian?"

"Why, is that illegal here, too?" Shelley spat back in anger and frustration.

The man rushed toward her, getting right in her face, and stated with a bone chilling calm,

"Listen. You are in this country illegally until you present a passport. Until that time, WE will be asking the questions. Now what fucking part of that do you not understand, lady?"

"Come with us, we are going to our office, until this problem is sorted out." the blond said, taking Shelley's arm while the tall man took her other. The two led her down a stairwell, into an unmarked, windowless van. She was terrified.........

"Fuck!!!", she thought to herself. "Why the hell hadn't she just gone up the Calgary Stampede and just fuck some drugstore cowboy she'd meet at some stupid beer garden?" She knew why. That had been her last vacation, three years earlier. It had been her last sexual encounter, as well. A drunken, unsatisfying roll in the back of some soccer Dad's mini van, a block away from the Saddledome. It had ended with a white Stetson wearing security girl politely tapping on the window of the van, telling them they were in a no parking area. As she remembered that, a tight little grin crossed her face. It came as a response to the fact that the boredom at home had been driving her mad; and that at that moment, she was certainly not bored......

The van pulled into an underground parking lot. They parked near a large steel door, which opened on it's own as they approached it. The two escorted Shelley down a maze of grey hallways, into a room containing a table, a video camera mounted on a tripod, and a television set mounted on the wall. There was also a large mirror mounted on one wall, which Shelley assumed, correctly, to be a one way mirror. The two left the room, the thick steel door locking behind them.

Shelley waited, it must have been an hour or more. She had to piss, and was dying for a cigarette. Finally, the two Feds returned.

"You are to be detained, Ms. Van Rhys. Your embassy has been notified, and they have assured us that this matter will be rectified by morning. Until then, you will remain in our custody." The man looked at her coldly, showing no regard for her situation.

"Detained? For what?!!" Shelley screamed, her composure slipping from her grasp. "If this is all going to be fixed by morning, just take me back to my hotel! I'll just order up some room service and go to sleep, which is all I want to do, anyway, for Christ's sake!" She broke down sobbing on the floor.

The two left the room again, the blond returning a few minutes later, accompanied by an orderly with a room service table, and a couple of folding stools. She asked Shelley if she had to relieve herself. Thank God for small miracles, she thought to herself, she was on the verge of pissing herself. She nodded to the blond, who had the orderly place a chamber pot on the floor in front of the video camera.

"Be my guest, Ms. Van Rhys." the blond said to her, pointing toward the pot.

The blond and the orderly stood and watched as Shelley pulled down her shorts and squatted over the pot. She was embarrassed as hell with the two of them watching her, and she glanced up at the TV screen to see herself there in this most undignified position. Once she was done, the orderly took the pot and left the room.

"Please, sit down." the blond said to Shelley as she pulled the cover off the room service cart. There were several bottles of assorted soft drinks, and a tray of sandwiches laid out. She hadn't eaten since before her flight, and her mouth was parched. She downed a bottle of Sprite, and tried to take her time on a sandwich.

"Care for a cigarette, Ms. Van Rhys?" the blond asked cordially, sliding a pack of John Player Specials across the table. Shelley accepted them thankfully, the blond producing a silver Zippo to light it for her.

"So, you still haven't answered my question, Ms. Van Rhys. The one I asked you at the hotel."

"You mean about whether I'm a lesbian."

"Yes. That question."

Shelley thought about it for a moment as the nicotine rush flowed through her body. Her only physical relationship with another woman had been when she'd attended college, and her room mate, Lisa, who considered herself a "pleasure enthusiast", had introduced her to the joys of cunnilingus. And sucking cock . And group sex. Truth was, most of the sex that Shelley ever had was in their cramped little dorm room. And, one Saturday morning, Lisa had come back to the room at about seven, and crawled up under Shelley's covers to go down on her; the perfect wake up call. On this particular morning, however, Shelley's parents had decided to pay her a little surprise visit. They walked in about the time Shelley was on her third or fourth orgasm, absolutely horrified by what they saw. They turned and left without saying a word, and refused to hear or speak of it again. They never forgave her either.

"I've been with a woman before, yes. But I wouldn't go as far as to say that I'm a lesbian." she stated in a very clear and focused manner, looking directly into the blonde's icy blue eyes. She also realized that her cunt was now throbbing.....

The man returned, and the blond stood, turning to a drawer on the service table. He looked at Shelley and calmly told her to stand and remove her clothing. Her heart was pounding; what the hell was happening? How could this be legal, anywhere? She looked at them and asked why she had to strip, as the blond turned to her, slipping on a pair of latex examination gloves.

"You are to be strip searched and your body cavities examined for contraband." the man stated indifferently. "Strip." "Now."

Her heart felt as if it were about to explode from her chest. Her rage had her on the verge of nausea, the adrenaline wiping out any ability to understand any of it. Added to all this was the shameful truth that she was wildly aroused, and could actually feel her juice running down the inside of her leg. Stunned, she stared off into space, and started to unbutton her blouse.

"In front of the camera!" the blond ordered lasciviously, as she pushed Shelley in front of the lens and tore her blouse off. Shaking, Shelley looked up at the TV screen and watched the woman appearing on it disrobe. One by one, she placed her garments on the table, until the woman on the screen stood naked. The blond stepped in front of her and cupped Shelley's breasts in her hands, squeezing her nipples harder and harder until she let out a muffled cry of pain.

The blond then ordered her to turn around, bend over and place her hands on the table. The man repositioned the camera so that the image on the screen was now of her ass, her anus being lubricated by the blonde's latex gloved hands. Without warning, the blond inserted two fingers into Shelley's asshole, causing her to gasp. The blond spent what felt like an eternity driving her long fingers as far up her ass as she could, all of it being watched by the man, and whoever was on the other side of the one way mirror.

Without warning, the blond pulled her fingers out of Shelley's anus, and ordered her to lie on the table and spread her legs. Once again, the camera was adjusted, so that the image on the screen was of Shelley's gaping cunt. The blond smiled as she slipped her fingers into her, no lubrication required. She reached her long fingers deep behind Shelley's pubic bone, pressing hard onto her G-spot, driving a stream of slippery fluid out of her snatch as she fought to keep from moaning out loud. The blond worked another finger, then another into Shelley as she felt the pressure in her build, and as she looked up at the TV screen, she shrieked as she saw the blonde's fist disappear into her, and a shuddering orgasm ripped through her. The blond drove her fist deeper into Shelley, pounding her rhythmically as one orgasm after another tore through her convulsively. Finally, the blond yanked her hand from her body, leaving her cunt wide open and flushed to a dark purple shade of carnal agony. The blond then motioned to the man, who dragged Shelley from the table, handcuffed her hands behind her back, and forced her to her knees. The blond held her pussy slick hand to her mouth, forcing her to lick it clean....

Shelley looked up at them and then at her image on the screen. She could feel the eyes on the other side of the mirror leering at her. She knew that whatever was happening here, they weren't done with her, as the man once again aimed the cold camera eye at her, the image on the screen above her now of her face only...

The door opened, and a rough looking group of men filed in. Shelley looked at her face on the screen, trying to make some sense of this, as a man's penis appeared on the screen as well. She couldn't believe that the face on the TV was her own; how could this be happening?

"Open your mouth, you fucking whore!" she heard a man say as she looked at the TV and saw the face of a woman open her mouth and take a huge ugly cock into it. Who the fuck was that dirty fucking slut, anyway? She' d never been called a whore in her life, but she'd done exactly what was ordered of her when addressed as one. The woman on the TV screen was frantically sucking the cock of a man whose face she couldn't even see, as suddenly her mouth was full of semen.

"Swallow it, whore!" she heard a man's voice bark at her, and once again, she did as she was told. Before she could even swallow all of what the first man had pumped into her face, another grabbed her jaw, forcing her mouth open while he jacked himself off, driving his prick into her throat as he came. One by one, each of them took his turn at stuffing a cock into her waiting mouth, and in ten minutes, she'd more than tripled the number of times she'd performed fellatio in her previous thirty five years. Fifteen minutes after that, she'd lost count completely. And in just over an hour after the first filthy bastard had ordered the whore on her knees in front of him to open her fucking mouth, Shelley looked up at the TV screen to see the last of them pumping his load across the remarkably un-average face of that woman, that whore..........

Shelly was once again in the room alone with only the blond, and the tall man. He unlocked her cuffs and helped her to her feet. The blond came over to him, put her hand on his crotch, and kissed him deeply. He embraced her as she moaned and twisted her hips into him. Shelley sat on the table, her hand instantly reaching for her throbbing pussy, coming as soon as she slipped two fingers into herself, as the blond unzipped the man's pants.

"You should show this filthy cunt what a real cock looks like." the blond said to him.

He turned to her and pulled his penis from his pants. Even with what she'd just done to God knows how many men, she gasped when she saw it. It was enormous, thick and uncircumcised, it's blood engorged surface throbbing. She fell to her knees and took the head of it into her mouth, tasting the honey of another woman on it. She came repeatedly as she stroked herself, the woman on the TV screen taking an astonishing amount of this monstrous tool down her throat.

He then pulled his prick from her mouth and threw her onto the table and told her to spread her legs. He slammed himself into her hard as the blond re-adjusted the camera to show the image of a woman being fucked like an animal, screaming and swearing like the whore she was accused of being, as the blond lifted her skirt and straddled Shelley 's face, one orgasm after another ripping through her as the man pumped her snatch full, and the blond filled Shelley's mouth with the mixture of herself, and the semen the tall man had filled her with earlier that day. As one final, crashing orgasm roared through her, the pounding in her ears reached a deafening level, and everything went black.......

She awoke in her hotel room. She'd been bathed, and had been dressed in the dark blue bra and panties that Meg had bought for her, her favorite ones. She felt her pussy throb; God, it hadn't been a dream. She picked up a small package, gift wrapped on the night stand. She opened it; it was her passport, the novel the blond had confiscated, and a DVD marked, "Vacation memories". She then opened the attached note. It read, "Have a nice vacation. Love, Meg and Lisa.{he he he...]"

She looked up at the woman in the mirror. There was nothing "average" about her at all. Yes, this was going to be a great vacation...