Taylor

Taylor listened as the engine raced and caught hold, raced and caught hold; the car moving twenty feet before slipping out of gear again. Being 18 and not having any clue as to what was happening, panic was beginning to set in.

TRI STATE TRANSMISSIONS, the sign seemed to shout. Finally I'm getting a break, I thought, maybe they can see what's wrong with my car.

I hoped my stepdad wouldn't be proven right. He'd told me not to buy that Audi but I had fallen in love with it.

As the car lurched into their lot, someone came out to meet me. Getting out, I realized how I must look. It had been a warm day in San Diego, unseasonably warm. To reward myself, I had gone to the beach and now, here I was, wearing a little, yellow bikini, just barely covered with a sheer Victoria Secret wrap, standing in front of a middle aged guy with a clipboard.

"What seems to be the problem, miss?" he asked in a voice that seemed to be a mix of southern charm and unbridled confidence. I rapidly began to detail the symptoms and he assured me that I had come to the right place and they could take care of it. As I went into the waiting room, I was a little dismayed by the wolf whistles that rang out from the back of the shop followed by murmured comments.

After twenty minutes or so, Brian, the shop manager who had greeted me, came to deliver the bad news. My transmission was shot and it would be 1500 dollars to rebuild it. OMG, 1500 dollars. Where was I going to get that kind of money? Having spent everything on the car and move in expenses for my new apartment, I was stretched pretty thin to say the least. My job barely covered the rent let alone food. I couldn't go back to my stepfather's house; I'd burned that bridge. Finally breaking down, I cupped my face in my hands and sobs rang through the waiting room as Brian tried to console me.

He led me into his office, sat me down and gave me a glass of water. Looking up at him, I spilled out my tale of woe. I was getting desperate now, there was no way I could afford that much money; maybe I could make payments? Yeah, payments. Brian just shook his head and said that that was up to the owner, Mr. Tims. He left to talk to him and I waited nervously.

After what seemed like hours, Brian returned and told me to follow him. Walking down a narrow hallway to a large mahogany door, Brian knocked and I was ushered inside as he left and shut the door behind him. Standing there in front of a massive desk, I was feeling very vulnerable in my bikini and coverup.

Mr. Tims was probably about 50 with salt and pepper hair and actually quite handsome. His eyes stared right into mine and seemed to pierce my soul.

"Brian told me of your little dilemma," he began, "I'm sorry but we don't let anyone make payments."

I was now pleading with him and tears were flowing. He stepped out from behind his desk and placed his arm around me.

"Maybe there's another way we could take care of this."

As he said those words, I froze. My stomach did flip flops as I nervously replied, "Another way?, I hope you don't think I'm THAT kind of girl Mr. Tims."

"Oh, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression," he continued, " I meant that I was having my weekly poker party for some of my friends at my home tomorrow night. We could use someone to make up snacks, get drinks for everybody, you know, just keep things flowing."

I still don't understand, "How will that help me?"

"These guys tip real well, I'm sure a nice looking little thing like you knows how to smile and be friendly. That's really the secret, I'll bet you could make 700 to 800 in one night. A couple of weeks and your home free."

"800 dollars in one night?" I hopefully exclaimed.

"I'm sure you could," he replied.

"Okay, I'm your girl, what do I have to do?"

"Just show up at my place tomorrow night. Here's the key to a red Mustang in the lot, it's the shop loaner. You can use it till we're done with your Audi. By the way, why did you get an Audi, they're the most undependable thing there is."

"Now you sound just like my stepdad," I laughingly said.

"I almost forgot," he continued, "What are your measurements?"

Warily I asked, "My measurements, why do you want my measurements? "

"Don't worry honey, I even provide a uniform so you don't get you own things dirty, plus, these are high class guys, they expect the best. You want that 800 don't you?"

Nodding like a bobblehead doll, I blurted out that I wore a size 4 and I measured 34-22-34.

"Shoes?"

"6"

"Great, that's all I need, I'll see you tomorrow about seven," he said as he scribbled the address onto a piece of paper and showed me out the door. I was almost floating as I got into the Mustang; maybe I could work at his poker parties every week. I could give up that boring job at Orange Julius. Those uniforms sucked. Whatever uniform Mr. Tims had would be better. I didn't care if it was a French Maid outfit. Nothing could look dorkier than what I had to endure every day.

All the next day I was on pins and needles and my hand was literally shaking as I rang the doorbell.

"Taylor, right on time. Please come in," he said as the door swung open.

The house was magnificent and I was in awe of the expansive ocean view and overall opulence. I think he saw my jaw drop as he chuckled and said, "Sometimes being a mechanic can pay off."

Handing me an Agent Provocatuer box and a Jimmy Choo shoebox, he motioned me into a small bedroom off the foyer.

"Here's your uniform, put it on and I'll show you around."

As I sat on the bed, I opened the boxes and was stunned. He couldn't expect me to wear this, there must be some mistake. Clutching the box, I ran back into the foyer.

"Didn't they fit?" he asked as he looked at me.

"I can't wear this, it's just lingerie," I whined.

"Nonsense, you were wearing less than that in my shop yesterday. Go ahead, be a good little girl and put it on and see if it fits; you'll look wonderful. Remember, you want these guys to tip big."

Back to the bedroom I went. Laying out my 'uniform', I saw that it was a pair of sheer white panties that tied at the sides, a matching sheer white pushup bra and a cute little Babydoll wrap. I had to admit, I had never seen anything this nice.

I gulped and started undressing. With each article of clothing I was shedding, I was getting more and more nervous. Here I was going to be parading around, almost naked, in front of five guys. I just hoped the tips were worth it, with the way my luck had gone lately, I'd probably only make five bucks tonight.

I slipped the panties between my legs and began to tie the left side. Funny thing, I never thought I would have to make as big a decision as to whether I should use a square knot or a bow. The bow won out. The side ties were a really cute shade of pink and matched the dainty bow on the front. Quickly fastening the other tie, I looked down and could see my pussy outlined in the tight crotch. I slipped the bra over my shoulders, fitted the cups under my breasts, and tied the pink ribbon in front into a cute bow. I wryly thought to myself that I hadn't gotten Christmas presents wrapped this pretty. The pushup bra certainly was doing its work. My breasts stuck out like they were on a serving platter.

Slipping on the sheer wrap, I noticed how the pink trim matched the bow on my panties. Suddenly feeling very naughty, I pirouetted and the Babydoll flew out in a gauzy arc around my hips. The cool air licked at my body and I felt a strange queasy feeling deep in the pit of my belly.

As I opened the Jimmy Choo box, I should have guessed what I would see: white, strappy four inch heels. I hadn't worn heels since my senior prom and those were only three inch. Dutifully I strapped them on and got to my feet, tottering over to stand in front of the full length mirror on the wall.

Wow.

My blond hair framed my flawless, 18 year old face. I knew I had been blessed with beauty; there was no sense in showing false modesty. My breasts were presented for all to see and if you looked closely, you could just make out the outline of my nipples and you could definitely see them poking out. They were just so sensitive; at least you couldn't see anything between my legs. I was a natural blonde and my pubic hair was sparse and very light. Billy Goat Hair, I'd heard it was called.

I turned around to look at my backside in the mirror and the arch the heels gave to my butt was something to behold. I had to admit, I looked good. These guys were going to be putty in my hands; I could almost count the money now.

Balancing on my heels, I strode into the foyer only to be greeted with a low whistle.

"Damn girl, you look fantastic" he said appreciatively.

As he looked me up and down, I was blushing profusely and didn't think I'd ever felt more vulnerable; damn near naked in front of a fifty year old guy. What was I thinking?

Showing me around the house, Mr. Tims walked me into the kitchen and explained where all the snacks and sandwiches were and led me into the gameroom dominated by a large poker table on one end and a mahogany bar on the other.

Just then, the doorbell rang and I looked at Mr. Tims questioningly. Grabbing my left arm with his left arm, he steered me towards the door and gave me a sharp slap on my panty clad bottom with his right hand, "Time to earn your keep Taylor."

Squealing more in surprise than pain, I wobbled to the entryway as my heels clicked loudly on the stone floor.

Opening the door, I said what I had been told, "Good evening sir, my name is Taylor and I'll be your hostess tonight, if there is anything you need, just let me know."

The large man in front of me was vaguely familiar. Smiling broadly, he looked me up and down. It was a look that I would become very familiar with tonight.

Soon, all the guests had arrived. Now I remembered where I had seen these men. Each owned businesses in San Diego, I'd seen their commercials on TV.

Soon, they were all engaged in the card game. Each time I went to get them drinks, they would throw a chip or two on my serving tray. I knew the smallest chip was five dollars so I was feeling pretty good. A few times, I even mixed myself a drink. Not too strong, just something to relax me.

I had just given the Colonel his drink and was walking away when I heard him call out, "Taylor, come here."

Now the Colonel, as the other guys called him, was about 45 with close-cropped hair, a very stern face, and a fit, trim body. He looked like the kind of guy you didn't cross and owned Remington Private Security who provided all the guards for the Charger and Padre games.

"I asked for a screwdriver, not an orange juice, girl."

I guess I was just a little too relaxed as I replied rather snippily, "Don't worry about it, I'll get you another."

I don't think I've ever seen someone move that fast. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me over his lap. Lifting my babydoll top, his iron hand began to rain spanks across my squirming bottom. He knew what he was doing, No matter which way I moved, that damn hand was doing its damage. I was soon reduced to a blubbering, screaming little girl.

That's the reason I left my stepfathers house, he used to spank me unmercifully. Then came the time he slipped his hand between my legs and stroked me there. I was wet from the spanking and utterly humiliated. But I still screamed like a banshee. He had no right touching me there; I left home the next day.

"Now get me that drink Missy," he roared as he pushed me off his lap.

My heels clicked on the stone floor as I hurried to the bar. All eyes were on me as I was rubbing my sore bottom, utterly humiliated and I could hear the comments:

"Colonel, where'd you learn to handle a girl like that?"

"I'll bet that got her attention."

"You can see the results right through her panties."

The Colonel calmly replied, "I've got two stepdaughters and one or another is usually over my knee. I run a tight ship at my house."

"Taylor, what's keeping you girl?" Mr. Tims called out.

I hurried back to the table and gave the Colonel his drink. After taking one sip, he spat it out and said, "That's straight vodka. What are you thinking? I guess some more attention to your bottom might be necessary to sharpen your focus."

With that, he bent me over the poker table, chips flying everywhere. Two of the guys grabbed my hands, stretching me over the table with my hips right at the edge, my legs flailing uselessly in the air. Again, he flipped my top up but this time, undid the side ties on my panties and pulled them off. I was mortified. Then it began.

This was not a spanking; it was more of a beating. I don't know if he was pissed off because he was losing or just mad because somebody scratched his new Corvette, but I do know he was giving it his all. First one cheek then the other. I never knew exactly where the blows were going to rain down. It was always a surprise and not a very good one. I humped left, right, back and forth, up and down, anywhere, just trying to escape that horrible hand.

My screams were shaking the dust off the ceiling beams. I never knew you could hurt that much. I was begging for him to stop and promising that I would be a good girl. I'd do anything, just anything if he would stop. He just laughed and began to rub my sore bottom. My eyes got as big as saucers. I didn't mean ANYTHING.

Here I was, spread out on the table, my red ass sticking out, tears streaming down my cheeks. Two guys holding my arms and some guy I just met sliding his hand between my legs and touching my sopping wet pussy. He slipped a finger inside me and I moaned loudly, " Noooooo, I'm a virgin, please no."

Catcalls filled the room as I saw my panties being passed from man to man, each bring them up to his face and inhaling deeply.

"You really warmed her up Colonel."

"Now that was a spanking, look at that ass glow."

"Somebody's ready, who's going to be first?"

FIRST, what the hell were they talking about? No way.

The Colonel was now pumping away inside me, adding another finger and twisting them around. As much as I tried, I couldn't help my body from betraying me by humping back onto his hand.

He slipped his fingers out of me and began to probe my virgin asshole.

"No, not there, please, I've never done that," I screamed.

Mr. Tims' voice rose above the excited din, "I think we should auction off that little ass. How about it guys?" Everyone was agreeing like they were voting on more tax cuts.

Funny, nobody asked me if I wanted to auction off my ass. I lay there fighting with my captors as two other guys grabbed my heels pulling my legs wide apart.

"Let's see what we're bidding on" I heard a voice exclaim, as my little pink rosebud came into view.

Leave it to the Colonel; he suggested they make it more interesting by starting the bidding at 100 dollars and each bidder who increased the bid over the next hundred dollar mark would get to give me 5 spanks.

I was almost hysterical by this time. Not more spanking, and not a cock in my ass. I couldn't handle that.

My thoughts were broken by the Colonel saying "Two hundred" as his hand came down hard on my sore ass. It didn't take much to get me wound up again; by the time the fifth blow came, my bottom was on fire and I was choking out my sobs.

"Two twenty five"

"Two seventy five"

"Three hundred," my heart leapt into my throat.

Mr. Bergstrom, the current high bidder stepped around behind me. He had hands that were huge. It was like he was hitting me with a tennis racket. His blows bounced off my ass bringing further screams from my tortured lungs.

"Three fifty"

"Three Seventy five"

"Three Eighty"

Oh thank God, the bidding was slowing down. Maybe there wouldn't be any more spankings. The winner would just fuck my ass. Oh no, Oh my God, Oh no, I can't do this, please, I couldn't tell if I was talking out loud or only in my mind. It didn't matter.

Brian, the shop manager, leaned down and whispered in my ear in that syrupy, southern drawl, "Four Hundred darlin."

Slipping his belt off, he said, "let's up the ante."

Whistling through the air, the belt made contact with my already sore bottom. I was unprepared for the sting of the strap; nothing in my life had even come close to this level of pain. The air was forced from my lungs as the belt bit cruelly into my smooth ass. If I thought I was squealing before, this was a whole new level of noise.

You know that little crease where your butt meets your legs; that sensitive little fold that you never, ever think about? The belt found that little crease. It didn't just find it, it explored it. It made me focus my entire being on that little crease. The word "Pain" may be an understatement, I never knew that little crease was so sensitive. Again and again it struck and finally, I collapsed. The belt had worked its magic on me, all fight had fled my body and my crimson ass was there for the taking.

Standing in front of me, the Colonel cupped my chin in his hand and lifted my head up. Staring directly into my eyes, he said "Five Hundred"

No, Oh No, Please, fuck me, fuck my ass, fuck my mouth, anything, just stop spanking me. I was losing what small part of my mind I had left.

"Let's get the rest of those things off you, alright Taylor?" he mockingly asked as the men proceeded to strip me naked. They held me up for everyone to see. My little 34 B breasts, my little pussy, everything. Like I was a piece of meat.

"Time to get you really spanked, sweetheart", he said as he pulled me down across his lap. This time, he was methodical in his spanking and he didn't stop at five. He went up and down my inner thighs with a stinging, slapping, searing pain that had me gasping for air. When he started to work over the crease where my ass met my legs, I passed out for a few seconds. The pain was just too intense.

Then his hand slipped between my legs again. I shuddered. It was just the same as my stepfather. What was the Colonel thinking? Was I his stepdaughter? Had he wanted to fuck her as much as my stepfather had wanted to fuck me?

Effortlessly lifting me up, he laid my limp body over the table.

"Any other bids?" he asked as he lined his cock up with my cringing asshole.

I raised my head and looking behind me, saw the Colonel holding a long, fat cock, slowly stroking it up and down. It had to be nine or ten inches long with a huge fat knob on the end. I'd never seen a cock before, so I had no idea whether he was large or small but I knew one thing: there was no way THAT was going up inside me.

He pushed and it felt like an iron pipe was being shoved between my cheeks. I clawed my way forward to escape the pain but was dragged back by strong hands on my ankles. The Colonel grabbed my hips and lunged forward as the pain built to a crescendo. Just before the head popped in, I heard the voice:

"Six Hundred."