Queenie and Miranda Pt. 01-06

Ron was in his forties, reasonably fit, a bit too short for his own liking at five foot seven, with his skin sunburned and weather beaten he would almost have passed for an Asian except for his light brown hair. Ron was the local window cleaner, it was a good cover for his drug dealing, and he was wearing his heavy boots and his Denim work suit over a clean white shirt with the sleeves rolled up as he stood looking down at Miranda as she dozed on the leather couch naked except for her corset and stockings.

Ron had been Queenie's pimp for ten years and more, she was twenty something when they got together, she had three kids, no husband, no partner, no money, drug debts and a fourth kid on the way, Ron had this punter who liked them young and pregnant, and so the deal was done and Ron took 25%, he never hit her, sent her to rehab when her habit spiralled and got too expensive and had her breasts enlarged, three times so far. He never had turf wars with other pimps, never got pulled by the police, charged reasonable margins, provided good consistent quality gear, paid off the right people and won himself many friends.

"You're on your own this time Queenie," Ron announced, "You could go down for this, you still got that rubber mask?"

"You filthy bugger." Queenie complained.

"Might as well make a Video," Ron suggested, "Shall we get Mikey around."

"Her ass looks tight as a bloody airlock." Queenie reminded him.

"Look, order a Pizza and shut up." Ron ordered.

Queenie made the call, and she and Ron went to the red bedroom where Ron undressed, "I'll use the harness and take her from behind while she sucks Stevie off, Ron suggested.

"What do I do?" asked Queenie.

"Camera, hand held camera." Ron suggested, "Do it in the lounge, no you wear the rubber with the whip," Queenie pointed to the suit on the wall, Ron continued, "yeah long plastic boots, that rubber cat suit with the holes for your tits and the crotch cut out, that one," he pointed " and you tell the bitch what to do, tell her to ignore me fucking her and concentrate on giving head.

The bedroom seemed too small suddenly as Queenie peeled her housecoat and sensible skirt off and Ron tried to remember how the bondage harness was supposed to fit, and the realisation that the last wearer had been at least six inches taller, shoulder straps, breast straps, waist straps, crotch straps all had to be adjusted, "Want the boots" asked Queenie.

The elasticated one size fits all leather effect play boots remained on the wall.

"They make me look a prat." Ron complained.

"You look a right prat already," Queenie laughed, "come on make a proper job of it." she handed Ron the boots and watched as he pulled them on.

Queenie dusted herself liberally with Talcum powder before wriggling into the cat suit, getting her breasts through the holes was the worst part because her implant scars rubbed if it was not put on exactly right.

"What about the tail" joked Ron.

"Fuck off, I ain't having that up my arse," Queenie insisted. "Let me get my coat on and get downstairs."

The street lights were coming on as Mike Bates propped his Honda against the lamp post and took the boxed Pizza from the large top box, before striding down the path to number three.

Queenie opened the door in her housecoat, "Have you got a few minutes Mike?" she asked.

"Filming again?" he asked.

"Yeah, five hundred flat or a percentage," Ron's voice boomed."You want in?"

"Yeah, cash, please." Mike agreed, "Like now is it?"

"Yes dear, that's why Ron looks such a prat." Mike stepped inside to allow Queenie to shut the door and Mike looked up the stairs to see Ron, with the rubber mask on and a bathrobe which failed to hide his erection or the ridiculous leather effect boots.

"You got that fucking silly harness on again mate." Mike chortled winding Ron up.

"Lets call it two fifty shall we?" Ron replied.

"No offence mate!" Mike chuckled, "Where's the lucky lady."

"Through here love," Queenie answered, "She's a bit tired, but what we want is her sucking your cock while Ron shafts her from behind and I order her about."

Mike walked into the lounge, "Fucking hell, she looks rough." he exclaimed, "I reckon Ron's got bigger tits."

"I warned you." Ron said as he threw his bathrobe aside to reveal his hairy chest, the brass buckles and black leather of the harness contrasting with his lightly suntanned chest with its mass of curly dark brown hair, and down below his Penis pulled through the slot in the the crotch strap which was pulled tight into his arse crack somehow emphasised his raw maleness.

"I reckon you fancy me." Mike said as he grinned at Ron.

"Fucking shut up and get your dick out," Ron said sternly.

"Yes dear sit on the couch, Queenie suggested, "and Miranda can suck you as Ron comes up behind, I'll handcuff him and guide him in, is that clear?"

Heads nodded and Queenie playfully roused Miranda from her slumbers with a swat with the cords of her whip across Miranda's creamy white inner thigh.

"Ahhgghh," Miranda squealed, "Where am I?" \she asked, then as realisation dawned she remembered but her chest and cheek felt wet and sticky, she tried to stretch but her wrists were still taped to her thighs.

"We're making a film and you're going to be the star, Randa, what do you think of that?" Queenie asked.

"Oh god no way." said Miranda as she blushed furiously as she saw Mike and Ron staring at her crotch,

"Mr Plonk is very ugly so he wears a mask," Queenie explained, "now get so you can suck Mike while Ron gets in position." Queenie clicked the camera switch and picked up the hand held camera, as Miranda frantically looked from Ron to Mike to Queenie as she tried to plan her escape but it was impossible.

Miranda stared at Ron in his harness, even in her terror she could barely stop herself laughing out loud but clearly it excited him from the gentle upward curve of his erection.

"Please no" Miranda pleaded but Ron ignored the script and pausing only to take a condom from Queenie and roll it over his thickening erection he grasped Miranda's slender upper arms with his rough calloused hands and easily lifted Miranda bodily to a standing position before pushing her heck forward with his left hand while pulling her waist back with his right arm to force her to bend from the waist.

Rons rough fingers rasped across Miranda's tiny breasts, his hot breath rasped on her neck, ad to her horror she found her nipples tingling with anticipation, visibly swelling, then she felt fingers at the lips of her sex, slippery fingers smeared with lubricant, dainty feminine finger, exploring, exciting, driving her wild.

"You like it don't you?" Queenie asked.

"NNngg" Miranda replied, "Please stop, I don't"

"All right dear, I understand," Queenie confirmed, "you don't want my fingers, you want Ron's cock."

For gods sake keep to the script." Ron muttered but as he felt Queenie's experienced fingers guiding him into Miranda's soft hot wetness he decided the script was a waste of time and gripped and kneaded Miranda's tiny breasts firmly as he forced himself deep inside her, her enveloping folds spreading easily to welcome his entry, Miranda gasped and gasped again as his second thrust took him deeper and the next deeper still but awkwardly, she didn't like it, the curve in his manhood pressed in the wrong places, it was too fat and, she realised not long enough, his balls slapped her crotch with every thrust now but then Miranda saw Mike advancing.

Mike stood beside the couch, his trousers discarded and his long straight penis straining, why couldn't he fuck me instead?" Miranda wondered instead of recoiling the way she would only this very morning.

"Suck it." Mike ordered, tentatively, slapping it against her cheek for effect.

"Open up dear." Queenie ordered,

"No!" Miranda shouted but Queenies fingers were ready and as Miranda's mouth widened Queenie roughly forced Miranda's jaw open revealing her little creamy coloured teeth and her long furry pink tongue.

"Uggh." Miranda exclaimed, "look at that disgusting tongue.

"I gowwa colg" Miranda said explaining she had a cold.

"Never mind," said Queenie, "Mike will fuck it better, you suck him nicely dear."

"No," Miranda exclaimed. but Queenie held her jaw firm as Mike tentatively eased the tip of his beautifully streamlined appendage between Miranda's scarlet lips, Miranda braced her self for the stench and taste of piss but to her shock it merely tasted of saltiness and fresh sweat

The tip of his penis weighed down her tongue as it eased gently inwards, and then she panicked, her breathing became laboured and Queenie jerked her head back and shoulders down to straighten her windpipe.

"Make a mouth cunt for him Miranda," Queenie requested, "let him fuck your mouth properly, you'll like it, both ends fucked together, it's lovely. Miranda knew she was dying, Mike's prick was choking her, her world was going black a.s she started to pass out but she knew she had to survive, she gasped for breath sucking air greedily and sucking Mike's penis as she did so.

"Fucking hell can this girl suck," Mike exclaimed, "where did you get her from, is she a pro?

"Keep the rhythm going mate," Ron reminded him, "This is hard work." Ron humped energetically, the sweat pouring from his brow dripping onto her buttocks and dripping down her arse crack onto his rapidly pistoning penis sliding easily in a sea of Miranda's juices and lube which leaked and dribbled down her inner thighs without the addition of any sweat as lubricant.

Mike held Miranda's cheeks firmly as she she sucked or was it gasped for breath, the sensations raced around his shaft as it slithered in and out of her throat excited beyond belief by her tongue the constrictions of her throat and the hot and cold draft of her breath passing over his shaft like the gossamer wings of an angel.

"This is great,she must be real experienced." Mike exclaimed, as he tried to shove his testicles in Miranda's mouth along with his shaft.

"Shut up, we're going to have to bloody dub this," Ron complained, "Just shag the tart all right."

Mike suddenly misunderstood Ron's words.

"Fuck, she's a fucking pro," Mike exclaimed, "She might have aids, she's sucking my prick without a rubber."

Mike changed from trying to stuff himself as far down Miranda's throat as possible to trying to pull out but the movement was making Miranda choke, and as she gasped she sucked Mike even harder.

"Don't be daft, you can't get Aids from a blow job," Ron explained but Mike was determined, pushing Miranda's face away from him, pushing her against Ron as Ron continued to thrust back at her.

"Fuck I'm cumming" Mike wailed as he lost balance and fell back away from Miranda, as his hot white semen gushed forth in repeated spurts, shooting inches into her mouth then as she closed her mouth splashing her forehead, right up into her sparkling chestnut brown hair. splashing her eyelid then as the force diminished rolling off her chin and splashing onto her breasts before the final emission dribbled across her thighs.

"Fucking Tart." Mike swore as he slapped Miranda across the cheek.

"She works for the Council." Queenie told him, "Strictly amateur you bloody fool."

Miranda fell forward against the backrest of the couch burying her face into the leather cushions, smearing them with Mike's cum.

"Oh my god." she wailed.

"Stop it you'll tear me bollocks off" Ron cried, "Oh fuck."

Ron convulsed helplessly as he orgasmed, pushing Miranda ever further into the leather as she tried to support her own weight and Rons with her neck muscles until finally Ron dragged himself off her.

"Fuck the lot of you," Mike swore as he dragged his trousers back on and grabbed his crash helmet, even forgetting to take the cash for the Pizza as he rushed back to his Moped.

Miranda rolled onto the floor, gasping yet relieved to be alive, her hair a sticky mess, her breasts and face covered with creamy slime to which the dust and filth of Queenie's couch and carpets was now sticking.

The tears flowed, tears of humiliation and tears of frustration mingled with the creamy cum and trickled down Miranda's cheeks.

"Turn the Camera off Queenie," Ron ordered, "I reckon Mike fucked that up good and proper, I'll get changed and make a move."

Miranda heard Rons footsteps as he climbed the stairs, the rustling noises of him undressing and the sounds of him dressing and returning to the Lounge, "Get rid of her." he ordered.

"Yes Ron," Queenie agreed, "Any ideas.?"

"Whiskey, half a bottle then dump her in a shop doorway on the Mansfield, let the Vice squad take her in." Ron suggested, "Anyway I got to get going."

"I want to die" Miranda moaned,

"Not yet dear," Queenie suggested, "I have plans for you."

Part 4

Miranda lay helpless on her back on the floor between the brown leather couch and the Coffee table, unable to free her wrists from the layers of tape binding them to her thighs, cold, thirsty, sore, covered in cum and sweat and tears with fluff and sweet papers stuck to her skin and the now filthy and sticky corset and black hold up stockings that were her only clothing. She tried in vain to spit the cum from her mouth and then in desperation tried to swallow it, "I need a drink." she shouted as she heard Ron's car drive away.

She heard Queenie returning from the kitchen, she placed a glass on the coffee table beside her freshly laundered DD bra and sat on the couch and suggested ,"Drink this." as she brought the glass of clear liquid to Miranda's lips.

The smooth cool liquid refreshed Miranda, erasing the taste of fresh slightly salty cum, but the aftertaste was unmistakable, as was the burning sensation down her throat.

"Aaagggg thats Vodka" Miranda cried.

"Yes dear, best to be a bit pissed I always say," Queenie suggested, "Had enough?"

"For gods sake give me some water!" Miranda pleaded but Queenie just laughed, and stared at Miranda, trying to reconcile the filthy broken train wreck of a girl she saw lying helpless with the Council worker who came with threats earlier.

"Still going to take me kids off of me?" Queenie asked.

Miranda stared back. "It's my job."

"Was" Queenie corrected venomously, "You're a fucking little whore now."

Queenie had the germ of an idea, she put the glass of Vodka back on the coffee table and idly punched a button on the black plastic remote which turned the TV on before turning to return to the hallway. The familiar sound of the news reader reporting world events made Miranda's situation seem even more surreal as Queenie slowly climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom, and began to search among the boxes and suitcases and cupboards until she found what she wanted, a red jacket she once wore, before she had her implants, a stained black leather miniskirt which she thought Miranda might squeeze into and some scuffed and worn black sling back shoes with four inch stiletto heels.

Miranda heard Queenie moving around upstairs and somehow she levered herself off the floor, pushed the coffee table aside and rolled first onto her side and then onto her knees and then by degrees rolled first to a sitting position on the couch and then she she stood up uncertainly and unsteadily and made her way carefully towards the kitchen. She searched for something to drink. She tried to open the refrigerator but with her wrists secured to her thighs it was impossible, she tried to turn a tap with her mouth but it was immovable, there was nothing to drink on the shelves but when she saw there was a dogs bowl by the sink unit nearly full of dirty water she quickly knelt down and started to drink from it. cool sweet water, it slid like nectar down her parched yet slimy throat. Queenie decided to take a shower, she undressed, throwing her clothes in a heap on the bed and walked toward the bathroom, her breasts swaying with the motion of her hips, but then she decided she didn't have time, and instead dressed in a tight white shirt, a couple of sizes too small in fact, and a suspender belt with stockings, with a short black skirt and windcheater coat, she chose trainers for footwear in case she needed to make a run for it and collected the clothes she had found for Miranda and made her way downstairs.

Miranda was still trying to lick the last drops of water from the bowl and didn't hear Queenie approach. "That's the dog's bowl you filthy bitch" Queenie chided her as she returned clutching the old red jacket, skirt and high heel shoes.

Queenie took the jacket and draped it around Mirandas shoulders before doing up the three black buttons which fastened it down the front trapping her arms to her sides again, "Can't get into it since I had me tits done," she explained, "This skirts fucked, you might as well have it, I can't get the cum stains out " she continued as she made Miranda stand and step into the tight little leather miniskirt which she pulled up and then zipped up with some difficulty, and then finally she made Miranda sit on the table while she forced the high heeled shoes onto poor Miranda's feet.

The shoes were at least two sizes too small, they cramped Miranda's feet, "Can you walk dear" Queenie asked, as she helped Miranda down from the table. The shoes cramped Miranda's feet so severely that she could barely walk but Queenie had forced them on and tightened the buckles until they bit deeply into Miranda's delicate nylon clad ankle but there was no doubt that they looked ridiculously sexy.

Miranda sadly said "No" as she tottered around unsteadily, as Queenie guided her back to the Lounge where she opened the curtains to reveal an evening of darkness and rain.

"We better put you to work young lady." Queenie suggested."You'll need these." she told Miranda as she took a hand full of condoms from the fruit bowl on the sideboard and tucked them unto the pockets of the jacket.

Queenie checked that she had Miranda's car keys as she gently guided her towards the front door, Miranda had been plotting how to escape from number three to the sanctuary of her car all afternoon but now as Queenie opened the front door and pointed to the car saying "I'll drive," she felt real terror. She froze but Queenie pushed her firmly onwards, to where the cold and damp assailed her, her heels scrunched on the broken tarmac, and as she approached the car she saw her pale reflection in the car window cast by the orange glow of the streetlights. She looked like a train wreck, like the dead junkies in the warning adverts.

She felt cold and afraid and above all dirty, her neck and breasts still smeared with slime, which had pooled and congealed under the corset, her crotch smeared with her own juices and liquid lube which had run down and soaked into her stockings She was only too aware that her breasts and pussy were naked under the jacket and skirt, her nipples grew stiff with cold, and then to her horror she felt herself getting damp again.

A lone man walking a dog watched as she climbed in to the front passenger seat of her car she knew he must have seen right up her short skirt, she knew he had seen her naked shaven pubes, her glistening slit, and she sat legs together as she felt the slippery wetness leaking from her, moistening the area round her anus as it dribbled down before soaking into the car seat.

Her hair hung awkwardly, sticky with cum, filthy with dust from Queenie's floor, she sat humiliated as Queenie sat behind the wheel.

"I haven't driven for years," Queenie said as she serched for the slot for the ignition key before starting the engine and crashing onto first gear with a grinding crunch.

"Clutch," screamed Miranda, but Queenie gunned the engine and they set off with a series of hops and jerks before selecting second gear which she stayed in for the next mile.