Jenni had come to LA about a year ago to make her name as an actress. She hadn’t worked for over two months, now, though. That was why she was wearing a too-tight yellow bikini and preparing to take yet another tray of drinks out to a bunch of drunk rich boys who weren’t much older than she was.
She sighed and tried to readjust her panties but whichever way you looked at it (and those guys were looking pretty hard) the bikini briefs were too small, riding high between the symmetrical cheeks of her perfect ass. It was the twenty-first birthday party of billionaire Clay Robinson and he’d invited about a dozen of his closest male friends over and hired another dozen or so out-of-work models to serve them drinks. About half were blondes like Jenni. Most of them couldn’t believe their luck that they were getting paid $1,500 for one nights work. Just to wear a bikini, smile sweetly and wiggle their perfect little butts while serving drinks to assholes.
As Jenni walked out of the kitchen to the pool area where most of the guys were standing, laughing and checking out the chicks, she had to admit who ever had hired the models had done a good job. These girls were amazing. There were black girls, Chinese girls, European girls and of course five or so blonde All-American girls, all in tiny bikinis, all in stiletto heels. Jenni was in awe. She hardly even admitted to herself that looking at those perfect bodies made her kind of horny. For some reason the fact that the girls treated her with even more contempt than the guys didn’t change that. They saw her as an unsophisticated hick just because she came from Arkansas and had a sweet, slow, country twang to her voice. They’d been talking behind her back and snubbing her all evening. She suspected, although she couldn’t be sure, that someone had switched her bikini for a smaller size.
In her heart, though, Jenni couldn’t believe she was as pretty as the rest of them. At only 18 years old she still saw herself as the gawky, puppy-fat covered girl she’d been two or three years ago. But she was wrong. She’d changed. Her short blonde hair framed a face that was almost heart-shaped with wide-spaced green eyes and an incredibly innocent and charming smile. Her breasts were unusually large for such a slim frame and yet naturally pert and she had long, smooth bambi legs that took her up to almost 5’ 10’’.
“Drink?” she smiled dazzlingly at a group of three guys. They grinned, rich and smug.
“Sure, baby,” they purred, loving the fact that they could stare at her big tits, or down at her pussy, the cleft almost visible in her tight yellow briefs, and she wouldn’t say a thing about it. As far as they were concerned Clay Robinson had bought her to entertain them for the evening. They slid three martinis off her round silver tray and as she turned around she could feel their eyes watching her mostly bare ass sway on her high heels. She couldn’t help but find it a little humiliating. She’d had dreams of being a serious actress when she’d come to LA and now she was reduced to this. Still, she told herself, she was the one with power here. They could look but they couldn’t touch. She wiggled her ass a little more; kind of liking the fact that she was turning them on. Some of the girls here tonight would undoubtedly be taking another $1,000 here and there to suck a cock or let a guy fuck them. But not her.
At that there was a loud handclap. Clay had clambered up on a table by the edge of the pool. He was swaying slightly and grinning broadly. On the table next to him was a large wooden chest. He was a short but stocky guy with very dark hair swept back, and bushy, sardonic eyebrows that gave him a devilish look.
“OK guys,” he began. “This is the part that I think we’ve all been looking forward to. I think we’d all like to thank the lovely ladies who’ve been serving us. Now we’re going to play a game.”
Some of the girls smiled, confused. They had no idea what was going on but the guys obviously did. Clay looked around the room at the women and felt flushed with power. These were some amazing fucking bitches and as far as he was concerned he’d bought them and he could have any one he wanted. First though they were going to have some fun. He reached into the chest and pulled out a gun – a long, sleek, black semi-automatic weapon. “See this,” he couldn’t stop smiling. “This is a gun with a difference,” he raised it his shoulder and fired against the brick wall of the house. There was an obedient squeal of excitement from some of the girls but the wall was just splattered with a neat circle of white paint.
“We’re going to play a little game of paint-balling. Only, again, this is paintball with a difference.”
Jenni put her tray down and folded her slim arms over her breasts. She didn’t like the expressions on the guys’ faces. They were all excited, some of them looked a little guilty, but many of them had got sadistic, horny smirks on their faces.
“This game,” Clay continued, “is called ‘Hunting For Bambi’. It was invented by some pussies who didn’t have the balls to go through with it and called it a hoax but we’re doin’ it for real. It’s pretty simple. All the guys get issued with a gun. The girls run off into the park and the guys have to shoot them. Depending on what part of the body they get hit,” he smirked, “they have to do a little forfeit.”
Some of the girls were still smiling sweetly, confused, but the smarter ones were shaking their heads. “No way,” Candi, a tall, large breasted black girl in a red bikini was saying. “I am not doing that. That was not in the job description.”
Clay just shrugged. “I’m going to start giving out the guns now. If you stay here you get shot up pretty bad for certain. Your only chance to save your pretty little asses is to make a run for it. Any girl who makes it back here without getting hit after 20 minutes gets $10,000.”
“No way, no way,” Jenni muttered under her breath. That was impossible. The grounds of the house were pretty big but to stay out of their way for 20 minutes, on stiletto heels, would be impossible. And didn’t these paint-ball things hurt like hell if they hit you? As if reading her mind Clay continued.
“One other thing. We’ve been nice to you, the guns aren’t quite full power, but even so you really don’t want to get hit in the eye in the eye with one of these things. Any girl who wants a pair of goggles, and I strongly suggest you do want a pair of goggles, queue here now and I’ll hand them out. I’ve also got sneakers so you can run a little faster. We start firing in two minutes so if I were you I’d get my sweet ass over here pronto.”
The girls stared in disbelief. “What if we refuse?” a beautiful, slender Chinese girl asked.
“If we refuse, we get shot the hell up anyway!” Candi muttered reluctantly.
“There’s one thing I didn’t mention,” Clay chuckled as his best friend Arron started handing out guns to the guys. “We have a rule in my house that girls are only allowed to wear three items, including shoes. If you want the goggles and the sneakers you’ll have to swap something else.”
“You assholes!” Candi exclaimed. But she was a smart girl and it didn’t take her long to put her hands behind her back and unhook her bikini top, making her smooth tits bounce gently, her nipples hardening visibly as the evening air touched them.
“Oh,” Clay added, handing her a pair of goggles, “the sneakers come with a pair of nice white ankle socks so if you want them you’ll have to take off your shoes and your bikini bottoms.”
