Farewell My Panties

Farewell My Panties

(by Eve Adorer)

 

Chapter 1 – Tangle

 

New Edingow City, New Edingow State, USA, sometime when…..

 

A night out comes rare for busy cops. But we hadda community goin’ down the precinct and we would take in a beer and a strip-joint whenever we could get it together.

 

The chick on stage was teriff. She had brown eyes, petit nose, a stardust of freckles, generous lips, and a look that said ‘I’m beautiful’ and told no more than truth too.

 

She was up on her tiptop-tiptoe full time in pirouette booties with toecaps squared, so she didn’t never put her goddam dainty feet flat ground. She musta trained some classic ballet judgin’ by her legs, and did she have legs and how and wow!

 

The honey swung her buns as her middle swivelled wicked wand wave, her ass messagin’ morse for a spankin’ and remorse’s kisses when you’d blacked and blued it with the firm hand it was beggin’ for.

 

Up top she was thirty-eight-DD and they were as natural as nature as they went their own ways with her inspirational gyratin’. They was pulsin’ pumpin’ and near poppin’ from her quarter-cup bra.

 

She had the face of an angel, black hair up ponytail and waftin’ whirled wide like a whip, as she waved her head side-to-side pretend robot, while the rest of her stunnin’ body jigged dance crazy under it, her legs steppin’ a stomp so wickedly fast that they were just a shapely blur, as she forwarded and backwarded on the stage, and then spun on one toe-tip to give us a generous of the rear of her doin’ the same, like she had itchin’ powder in her beelzebub.

 

Her mom musta mated with a bee too, cos she was a honey with a trim waist that shimmied like earth tremor as she next gave us belly dance seven veils style, but in tiny panties and a tinier skirt modern wise.

 

Then she wrapped her goddam gorgeous right leg around the dance pole and control-slid slow to ground, felatin’ the shiny steel upright from top her reach, to base, with an eager tongue like it was Casanova’s supernova erection eruption.

 

She’d been a nervous starter. They’d put her on first. She was new the joint, and new to the strip game altogether.

 

We gave her the encouragin’ rhythmic-handclap. Startin’ gentle to see we didn’t upset her none, and beatin’ rapider and louder as we saw her smile and that she was just lovin’ the attention we was givin’ her as she stomped devil dervish, shakin’ all she’d got and showin’ she’d got the lot as she danced to a steel-band oil-drums poundin’ sound, played eardrum-burst loud through the massive speakers.

 

And we shouted for her to ‘get them off’ so we could remind us again how god had blessed the world with her finest creation. And she de-brared to let her top go wild then whisked offa side-tied G-string to show us she was a shaved babe, before she dropped her micro-mini ground, and dance-skipped offa the stage, turnin’, still tiptoe, on her goddam beautiful legs shufflin’ tiny steppy-steps backwards, to blow genuine kiss, like our clappin’ and cheerin’ and wolf-whistles had wetted her up for a go, judgin’ by her nips.

 

And then she came back on, in nothin’ but her booties and did a sideways splits slidin’ herself like velvet down to the stage with her feet outstretched 9.15 and 3.45 like only the fittest chick would find possible as she waved her arms graceful wand windmill, and touched her booties’ toes in turn with her fingertips, and then raised herself up with only her goddam gorgeous leg muscles, only to lower herself down once more, but this time in a 6.00 and midnight splits, with her shy smile as wide as it musta opened her beelzebub when she’d done the sideways.

 

Then she lifted herself up again with her strong legs alone, took a bow, face away from us, and shimmied her legs wider and wider apart usin’ her fingers to show us her eager pink: turned lickin’ her lips to show us what she wanted done in her satan, took up her right tit and licked and sucked her nipple to attention, and then ran off stage once again, blowin’ multi-kisses off of her damned pretty fingertips, to a house bring-down of applause and whistles wolf and wow and cheers and shoutin’ and stompin’ as had never ever before been heard for any girl in Letme O’Lick’s strip joint afore.

 

The next girl had an impossible follow to act, so whilst my gaggle called for more beer, I went dressin’ room to talk to Lindy-Lou, the babe that had just stripped for us all.

 

I tapped door light.

 

“Come in” came Lindy-Lou’s slight southern drawl.

 

As I entered, Lindy-Lou was dressin’ gown ready shower. Rushin’ to me, she was swift puttin’ her arms around me, kissin’ my cheek and layin’ her head on my heart, sighin’ love.

 

“I didn’t think I could do it. I thought it would be so darned demeanin’? I didn’t think I could strip off in fronta all you girls like that”, Lindy-Lou gushed with her excitement at her achievement.

 

“Honey, you were sensational!” I soothed, as I looked down at her now bare feet and saw there the evidence I had expected to find.

 

“Lindy-Lou Loveskiss, you have the right to remain silent…” I routined as Lindy-Lou now stood back, shocked, her oh so kissable lips moist and demandin’ even when her eyes showed her fear as I Miranderised her.

 

She was so stunned she made no protest as my colleagues came in, stripped her, girlcuffed her wrists behind, so her damned pretty hands rested on her gorgeous ass, put a bit in her mouth, fastened pony irons back onto her big toes, and led her on a rein, ‘clip-clop’, to be shipped back to the farm she had escaped.

 

I was on undercover. Lindy-Lou was my third returned escapee that month. She’d been given three-years hard for bein’ street drunk first day of college.

 

She was a great kid with bad timin’. Society had decided it was clampdown time naughty girls wise. She’d been caught in the park kissin’ her girlfriend just like happens everyday normaltown. Only she’d been underage drinkin’, celebratin’ havin’ got to college. She walked the straight line to test she wasn’t no real drunk, but she failed the blow-in breathalyser test? She’d gotten three-years hard ponygirl for gigglin’ durin’ that.

 

I’d finally knowed Lindy-Lou was ponygirl for sure when I’d seen the marks on her big toes where the shoe-irons had gripped her.

 

Escaped farm ponygirls always rated numbers this time a year. It was comin’ up ploughin’ season.

 

No honey doin’ ponygirl could getta steady paid job. They didn’t no more have the proper papers. No job that is, lessen it was somethin’ like what Lindy-Lou had been doin’: strippin’ for the girls.

 

I felt sorry for her of course. But I gotta tip from the dame that owned the strip-joint that she had a new girl without docs come the ‘I’m desperate for money’ routine.

 

These strip clubs don’t want no trouble. It had to be checked out. What better than for me and my back-up team to be able to combine pleasure with business, the way it had gone tonight.

………………

 

Next day I was due stationhouse back in uniform. I’d showered and was inspectin’ my bod. I gymnasium seven times a week, but I don’t want no muscle that don’t look fem.

 

I’d always wanted ballet when I was a kid. I’d done the exercises alongside bar till I was a mid-teen, hopin’ to prima. I ballet-exercise daily still. I got the legs to show for it.

 

I never made prima ballet because I filled out too big on top and behind. I got to be too damned hourglass. A fully-natural thirty-eight-E-Cup around the top, and a matchin’ thirty-eight below. In between you can belief eighteen, because it’s true. 38E-18-38 is one hell of a chick: I’m one hell of a chick. You better believe it!

 

I finished mornin’ exercise by standin’ en-pointe left leg, and swingin’ my right leg up behind to touch my right shoulder blade with my pointed foot. Then I did ditto left leg standin’ right foot.

 

Now standin’ back to the ballet bar and still en-pointe, I kicked my right leg straight up and put my pointed-sky foot behind my ear and held it there count-twenty. I then switched legs, doin’ the same left leg and left ear. It was tough to do this without bendin’ at the knee with the grounded leg, tougher still to do it remainin’ en-pointe on the grounded leg. But I did ten with each of my legs and made shower feelin’ just great.

 

Earlier, I’d done three-miles runnin’ rollin’ road, and another five on stationary-cycle. After shift I’d go swim some.

 

Outta the shower I looked mirror and admired what I seen. I ain’t a vain dame, but a girl knows when she’s a looker, and I’m a looker. I got short-trimmed genuine blonde hair, hazel eyes in deep-set sockets, the highest of high cheekbones, and a generous wide mouth. The girls say I look haughty ‘ceptin’ when I smile, and then I look even more goddam gorgeous ‘specially with my eyes still showin’ my shyness. I smile a lot. I don’t wanta have the chicks think I ain’t approachable.

 

I got nipples like car-stoplights, with huge round pink aureole, like I had two more beautiful eyes a starin’ at you. The cutest ass, with my butt cheeks hollow-side-dimpled and taut with the stretchin’ of my gorgeous legs in tiptoe-booties. And I could go to a hornet’s weddin’ and not look outta place, my waist is so slim. And too, I got a wasp’s wiggle on me when I walk.

 

Despite the bod and the face and the sweet smile though, I’ve never been too lucky in love.

 

So, hey, I hadn’t ever had a steady girlfriend, let alone a lover-girl; but I had my career didn’t I?

 

Hair blow-dried ‘n brushed to a shine, it was time to dress.

 

Summer uniform is a short-sleeve shirt, light-blue of course, that buttons up front and has my service number: “38E1838” on both of my collar wings. I’m allowed to leave the top buttons undone in summer heat.

 

I’m not allowed a bra. Come to that, I’m not allowed a skirt neither.

 

Only a lieutenant and above is allowed a skirt, so my shirt has to make like a dress? Only it ain’t gonna hide that I’m a girl, lessen I wear my standard-issue light-blue thong.

 

Still, I suppose my shirt’s hem still comes halfway down my butt even when it’s pulled up offa me some, by my waist-belt.

 

Light-blue suspenders stretchin’ well below my shirt’s hem, hold up my light-blue stockings. I wear light-brown-leather steel-soled booties with no heel at the back. Instead they have a heel at the front so I can get ground purchase if’n I’m inna a shootout scenario. Otherwise I’m up constant-skyscraper-legged-tiptoe, wigglin’ pirouette on the squared-off toe-ends of my booties as I natural girl-gait swivel-walk.

 

From my belt at the back bouncin’ on my sassy ass when I walk, dangle ready for deploy, are a setta girlacles, my pepper-spray, and a penis-gag, with space for a bag of tampons for when I’m on my monthly.

 

Clipped fronta my belt is my twelve-inch vibratin’-dildo-truncheon right side, along with my coiled rope lasso: and, left side, my school-style curved-handled cane, my WAP computer radio, and a ready choke-chain bitch-collar with its coiled up leash.

 

Holstered on my right thigh, fastened to a dark-blue garter round my stockin’ top, at top, and to a dark-blue string at the holster’s base, around my gorgeous leg just above my dimpled knee, is my loaded tranquilliser-dart pistol. Fastened to the dark-blue garter round my equally shapely outside left thigh, is my New Edingow Police Department shield-shaped gold-coloured metal warrant badge.

 

I put on my dark-blue baseball cap, and inspect myself in my full-length mirror. I’m about to go foot-patrol and wanna be sure I’m a credit to the service.

 

We got back on foot patrol regular when the petroleum gas finally ran out: for all bar the rich, the railways, and government limos of course.

 

Gasoline oil is rare and darned expensive. Most the world’s economy now runs on girl-power. Cities are lit by the beautiful legs of thousands of girls pedalling dynamo 24/7 in huge power-houses. Most transport is ponygirl. Ponygirls plough farm springtide and pull reaper at harvest-time. Fields are spread with girlnure – girls’ droppin’s bein’ full of motherin’ hormones, make for superb growth.

 

Methane from girlnure provides the heatin’ for the intensive farms, where girls are encaged engaged producin’ girlmilk from which girlbutter and girlcheese are manufactured. The girl-wine on your supermarket shelf, will have come from girls, fed only on grapes and distilled water, so as to fragrance and flavour their pee for the bottle. If you are rich class, shoeshine girls lick your shoes clean for you, and kit you out with that smart citygirl suite. Girls drill roads and build skyscraper, sew and knit, and weld as well.

 

I put on my cap with its peak out straight front. Then I check the mirror for the name on the metal star pinned to my shirt just above my swayin’ left breast’s firm pointy nipple-centre.

 

Along with the also reversed repeat of my service number, I reads in the mirror: “EKID”.

 

The right way round this gives the general public my surname.

 

The band on my hat also tells it like it is. It reads in my mirror: “noisiviD lortnoC-lriG eciloP”

 

I’m a street patrol foot beat officer in the Girl-Control Division of the New Edingow City Police Department.

 

I’m a 20-year-old Girl-Control copette – full name Ima……. Ima Dike.

……………

 

I walked wiggle, wendin’ my way street, passin’ first the local school, where the girls would curtsey courteous in fronta me, and then wolf-whistle my swayin’ ass as I tiptop-tiptoe-sway by.

 

I never minded this none. I may be a copette, and upholder of the girl-laws, but I’m also a doll dame and a doll dame who appreciates bein’ appreciated for bein’ a doll dame.

 

Sure one time I’d hadta take a holda one of these cuties, pull her knickers down, bend her over my damned gorgeous thighs and spank her bare butt on the spot.

 

Young girls need a firm hand if’n they ain’t gonna go astray none. And I’m a Girl-Control copette. Spankin’ schoolgirl-butt is onea my duties.

 

This particular chick had snuck up behind of me and lifted the hem of my shirt so she and her friends could see some more of my cute buns. I coulda larruped her with my cane for that; but let her off with a caution and an on-the-spot slappin’.

 

Hey, she was just a teenage girl bein’ a teenage girl, gettin’ off on an older woman’s body. I never knowed one of these teenagers who didn’t say ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you Ms Dike’ after I’d slapped her pretty little butt some.

……………..

 

My walk to the station house had a shortcut through the park, so I swayed my half-bare ass that way feelin’ the heat of the early mornin’ sun on the supreme dream cream smooth softness of my exposed body.

 

Across the path I’m greeted with a “Good mornin’ officer”, like to make me real proud of my profession? It was genuine respect for what Girl-Control was a doin’ of to make the streets safer for respectable women. I liked that.

 

I swayed on some more, with my bare ass cheeks a risin’ and a fallin’ and my tits swingin’ fascinatin’-ding-dong as I step ballet with one foot down right in fronta the other like a girl should walk, just as I was teached in deportment classes when I was school.

 

Just now down the path I sees a lady walkin’ her bitch. The bitch is a girl havin’ her ankles tied to her thighs so she has to walk with her hands as her front paws and her knees as her rear paws? She has a dog collar around her slender neck, and is on the end of a controllin’ leash.

 

Even as I saunter-sway my mesmerisin’ ass over, the lady’s bitch has parted her just so gorgeous thighs and is peein’ the grass.

 

“Scuse me lady” I intro’d, “Did I see you letya bitch pee the grass just now, or did I see you letya bitch pee the grass just now?” I leadin’ questioned.

 

“I’m sorry officer. I wasn’t payin’ attention,” a lady I recognised as the Scottish Ambassadoress’ wife smoothed.

 

“I’m sorry too lady, but New Edingow’s gotten laws about bitches peein’ in the park or in the street. Besides-wise, it’s a waste of good wine to let it pour to ground like that,” I made firm.

 

“This here’s a whippin’ offence”, I reminded.

 

“You’ve been very observant, and are bein’ very efficient officeress. But could you not turn a blind eye just this once?” the Scottish Ambassadoress’ wife pleads.

 

“No way ma’am” I no way ma’amed her. “My clit’s on the choppin’ block if’n I don’t do my job right”, I affirmed.

 

As I reached to look at the bitch’s name and licence number on the metal tag clipped through her ear, I get wolf-whistles and ‘wows’ when I bend over straight legged flashin’ full bare ass and havin’ my heavy 38Es gravely answer the call of gravity, as my love-pouch filled panty’s crotch is pullin’ tight, showin’ the outline of the lips of my pink-silk-lined succubus.

 

A copette is there to make the city beautiful as well as uphold the law. I was only too pleased that my gorgeous buns and my heavy breasts and the outline of my beelzebub’s lips were turnin’ on the girls passin’ us by on their ways to work.

 

“We can see your bummy: we can see your bummy”, called a crowd of teenage schoolgirls as they ogled my beelzebub’s-purse pouchin’ the crotch of my light-blue copette’s thong as I rose and stood, legs slightly parted, to use my radio as a WAP computer.

 

“Lettin’ a bitch pee the walkways is punishable by on-the-spot ticket and standard sentence, but you have the right to opt for trial. If you opt for trial and are found negatively innocent, the punishment will be doubled”, I formally informed.

 

“My duties as a copette do not include givin’ advice. I can therefore only tell you that this ticket I am about to adhere to your bitches butt, confirms the standard punishment as six cane strokes, three on each.”

 

“You have to take your bitch to the station to have it nipple-whipped within the next five days, unless you lodge a ‘go-trial’ before then”, I concluded.

 

“All I can say is ‘thank you’ officer”, the Scottish Ambassadoress’ wife says to me, as I saluted and she watched my right breast liftin’ my shirt even more prominently bulgin’.

 

I now continued to glide-sway my way to the precinct house, but the lady calls from behind me: “Officer: you are one hell of a beautiful woman!”

 

“Why: thank you ma’am” I answered, pleased to have served police and pleased.

……………

 

As I arrived stationhouse, the other copettes applauded me and shouted their congrats for my part in findin’ Lindy-Lou Loveskiss, and returnin’ her to finish sentence?

 

I felt real proud, and prouder still when Captainess Ophelia Snatch patted my right ass cheek and told me a: “Well done Ima. You’re a good copette, and you got the makin’s of a great copette!”

 

Then she added: “See you my office in five, please Ima.”

 

I was in the captainess’ office in four and standin’ to attention, till she waved me sit down.

 

Then I felt her eyes assessin’ and appreciatin’ my shapely legs as my shirt’s hem slow rises right up to display all my magnificent thighs, with my stockin’ tops half mast, stretched to long vees by my suspenders, and my silk-soft-firm bare flesh above my stockin’ tops up to the edges of my tiny thong, glowin’ sorta tactile-invitational.

 

I looks down and runs my right forefinger gently along my silk-soft-firm above-stockin’-top bareness, and then give the captainess the full two-barrels of my lovely hazel eyes, with my pitch-black pupils huge kaleidoscopic-suction-whirlpools, a tellin’ her it’s okay for her to explore me if’n she wants to.

 

“I got a job for you Ima,” says Captainess Snatch, managin’ to take her eyes offa my supremely caressable bare thigh flesh for a few seconds.

 

“It needs a volunteer. It’s a tough assignment for a young and inexperienced copette like you. But you did so well with the Lindy-Lou Loveskiss return of escapee case, that I think you got what it takes for this one.”

 

“Thank you ma’am …..” I began, real excited….

 

“Hold hard Ima. You’ll want to think about this. It’s another undercover job. You and your background team did a great job with Lindy-Lou. I’m puttin’ the whole of Girl-Control down for a reward bonus, and you for the gold garter medallion.

 

I was blushin’ flushed with the excitement of the honour of winnin’ a high achieve top-notch gold garter medal. Not bronze, not silver, but gold, and after only one-year as a copette. And I imagined the presentation ceremony with the mayoress slidin’ the reward garter up my swervy-curvy left leg to just above my dimpled knee, below my copette’s warrant badge, as the Chiefette of police, my fellow copettes, and my mom, and my three sisters would be cheerin’, and me so darned proud!

 

My concentration doubled now though, as the captainess said, not with even a hinta joke, that she’d put me in for the gold thong to go with the gold garter if I succeeded in the mission she had for me next.

 

At mention of a prospective gold thong, I was instantly soberised.

 

No copette had yet gotten to wear the coveted gold panties lessen posthumously before now.

 

Only one copette had gotten to wear her reward gold thong and gold garter medallion out street, and she’d been killed in a shootout with girlnappers.

 

That had been only the week after she’d depilated triangle ‘specially, so as to look her best at the public presentation.

 

I was applaudin’ her at the ceremony when she had had her standard light-blue copette’s panties ceremoniously lowered down her legs by the state governoress, and stepped outta them forever.

 

And then she was a salutin’ with her heart pumpin’ so damned proud whilst the governoress was easin’ the gold thong up her gorgeous thighs as the band played “God Bless America”?!

 

Now her gold thong and her gold garter medallion, accompanied by her name star, are in a glass topped case in the Hall of Honour at the National Copette Museum, in DC.

 

“This is a big ask Ima. It ain’t no fault of you or your support, but Lindy-Lou didn’t get back to her mistress. Girlnappin’ has broken out again big time. The GBI and GIA suspect the Russian mafia.”

 

“Used to be that Russia and its former empire had loads of surplus girls to export. Now their economy has outstripped the US of A’s, they’re keepin’ all their own girls to work pony and drill for oil, and mine coal. There’s now a massive shortage of girlpower in Russia, China and the whole of Africa, and big rewards on offer for girls from Europe, Japan, Australia and the USA to make up the shortfall.”

 

“In Russia and China, American chicks are highly prized in a sorta hangover of revenge for the old cold-war years. The fashionable Russian woman wants an American ponygirl and several more tied up bitch to parade in their central parks.”

 

“That’s where you come in Ima. If you volunteer, your assignment will be to go to that strip joint where you picked up Lindy-Lou. They have back rooms there where the girls perform specialities for high rollin’ clients. Lindy-Lou did some real special wrestlin’ apparently.”

 

“The chief suspect is Feelinsideskia Clitoriskia. Clitoriskia only goes for the best lookin’ dames. You’re knockout Ima. She’d go for you big time. She likes to watch the real special wrestlin’.”

 

“If you volunteer you’ll do a performance for her and then be abducted to be trained pony. So we can follow the trail and gather convincin’ evidence, you might have to go along with that. But don’t worry none kid, we won’t letya out of the country, and we’ll whup Clitoriskia’s ass if she tries it on that far.”

 

“Do I got myself a volunteer?” Captainess Ophelia Snatch conclude-queried.

 

“Yes ma’am” I confirmed as I rose to my tiptoed feet and made the copette solute, standin’ to attention with the right of my two darned pretty hands pressed to my chest middle above my breasts to show that I gave my whole body to the copette service.

……………

 

Rumour had it that Clitoriskia and her bevy of beauties was back in town. She was a creature of routine, and would play roulette till the early hours, before comin’ to a strip joint for some ‘tainment.

 

Letme O’Lick was just now lookin’ after me, and preparin’ me for an all-girl nude wrestlin’ match such as Feelinsideskia Clitoriskia was known to enjoy. And Letme tells me that my opponent was restin’ up right then.

 

My opponent was to be Anna, the club’s resident nude-wrestler. Letme advised that Anna was highly skilled, and was rewarded with pet mice.

 

I was sure I was fit enough for any opponent who didn’t outsize my 5-foot 7-inches overly, and a girl who was such a sweetie as to collect cute pet mice sounded a pushover.

 

Of course I knew the wrestlin’ was supposed to turn me and my opponent on. That would be no problem for me. I was always a very tactile babe.

 

“Anna just loves to give head”, Letme confirmed, as she applied foam to the curly blonde triangle between my legs, “So watch she doesn’t wrestle you to where she can lick you out!” Letme warned.

 

“We’ll give it a shave, and then depilatin’ cream so you look real smooth” Letme then said, as much to herself as to me, as she got intricate and intimate with a safety razor where she’d sprayed self-heatin’ shavin’ foam.

 

“This is a very personal question Ima, and there ain’t no way to put it polite….” She said next.

 

I didn’t know what she was goin’ to come out with, and I blushed redder that a beetroot when she did, straight out and no messin’.

 

“Are you still intact?” asks Letme.

 

I blustered, even though it ain’t easy when you got your legs straddled and an older doll whiskin’ the suds off the razor, and your just shaved-off pubes with it, into a shavin’ bowl, before she comes back, tongue-tip outta the corner of her red-lipsticked mouth to help her concentration, as she shaves your ‘tween legs coot-bald some more.

 

“I’ve had loads of girls. I’ve been goin’ with girls since I was at school. I’ve had no end….” I struggled to convince.

 

“Oh so ‘you’ve had no end’ then?” Letme answered like she was teasin’, cos she was.

 

“Captainess Snatch said she was pretty sure you were a virgin. She says you don’t have a steady girl and your so damned gorgeous none of your fellow copettes dare ask you for a date, cos they think you must be already spoken for.”

 

I blushed, and felt tears of embarrassment corner my gentle hazel eyes as I heard this.

 

“It’s a tough ask for a young copette, and we did the dirty on you darlin’. We had to be sure to get Clitoriskia here tonight. She’ll often come unannounced to watch some intimate girl-girl nude wrestlin’. But we wanted to be certain sure she’d not give us a miss, by passin’ word to her there was a girl takin’ part who’s not yet earned her pubes.”

 

“That’s why I’m a shavin’ it for you. Clitoriskia will want to see you marked out as the virgin, knowin’ you are fightin’ not to get your hymen snipped.”

 

“If’n you lose the wrestle, Ima, Clitoriskia may expect to give thumbs up or thumbs down like it was Roman gladiator times. And if’n it’s thumbs down for you darlin’ she’ll want to see your opponent pop your cherry right then and there.”

 

“So you have a real good incentive to win the fight Ima, lessen you wanna have ya stretch snapped”, Letme affirmed.

 

I gotta be honest. I was blushin’ real deep when Letme was tellin’ me this, cos I was wet with more than just the shavin’ foam.

 

And it’s like Letme knows I’m wetted and whetted and despite that, or because of that, when she was finished shavin’ it, and is readyin’ to cream it full smooth, she kissed me on my forehead and tells me I is: “a beautiful angel”.

 

I was really gonna tell her some after that, includin’ that I was no angel; I was a tough copette; but I just blushed more and deeper still instead.

……………

 

It was so darned hot and jungle-humid in that side room where I was to wrestle on the mattress on the floor. I stood around deeply embarrassed in front of an audience before which I needed to act the experienced stripper, disguisin’ I was really a copette? and I was totally failin’ the Oscar.

 

I was naked as nature already, so I was not expected to strip.

 

In fact I was nakeder than before, and it felt real weird and real nice not havin’ my triangle, and my satan bein’ total smooth too. It made me feel clean and pure.

 

The lights were borin’ down on me addin’ to the heat and humidity? And I could see nothin’ behind o’ them, though I heard wolf-whistles and a foreign, like a Rusky accent, say how I was an astoundin’ beauty and how Letme O’Lick had done a great job choosin’ me.

 

And I’m just thinkin’ that ‘choosin’’ is an odd word to use, when it all begins to happen, with real loud music that I instantly recognised as that I danced gym to at home, and the lights goin’ out, and I’m standin’ facin’ out with my back to a plinth one side of which suddenly becomes a screen.

 

And their projectin’ video of me in my apartment exercisin’ ballet to the beat of the same music playin’ here and now through the club’s speakers.

 

And the audience is whistlin’ and jeerin’ and sayin’ all kinds of crude ‘n rude things they’d like to do to me, as they watch me on screen, bendin’ my right leg back behind me and touchin’ my shoulder blade with my toes, and then kickin’ that leg straight up in fronta me so as my ankle is level my chin, and holdin’ it up there without aid of my hands, and then doin’ same with my left leg.

 

And I was dyin’ with embarrassment and a wonderin’ who wired my apartment, as they show me now on screen completely nude in my shower and fingerin’ my nub till I scream with a cum as the water runs offa my goddam lovely body like I’m a sea spume soaked naked sailorette.

 

And I’m feelin’ soiled by the shouts about my body, as I feel a cool tap on my shoulder outta nowheres as if someone had been sittin’ on the plinth? And I’m thinkin’ this must be my opponent for the nude wrestle, cos Anna’s made a no-show till now.

 

And I turn, blinded by the lights and deafened by the music and the audience a cheerin’ at somethin’. And I realise too late I got this giant snake windin’ itself rapid round my neck, coilin’ offa the plinth I’d been leanin’ against in my shame as they showed me on video bein’ naughty with my clit.

 

And I scream with horror and my pretty hands are useless to fight it off. And an announcer on the club’s speakers says: “We’ve seen the stunnin’ Ms Ima Dike gymnasium some, and now the staggerin’ly beautiful copette is gonna naked-wrestle Ms Anna Conda!!”

 

And the audience cheer and I’m down on my haunches showin’ my thighs big bold and damned beautiful as I next go to kneel, and I’m bein’ slow strangled by a massive anaconda snake that is tighter round my neck by each tock of the clock.

 

And I’m fightin’ with my dainty hands to tear the snake offa me, as my eyes are poppin’ and my tongue lollin’ as she slowly throttles my windpipe. And I tumble backwards a coughin’ and chokin’ and a wheezin’ and a beggin’ with my eyes. Only Anna has now gotten me lyin’ flat on my butt and back, and she’s beginnin’ to put her head in the deep valley between my tits.

 

And I’m so relieved as she loosens her grip on my windpipe, that I begin to cry. And I’m still petrified as Anna slow glides the grand canyon between my mountains, till at very long last her tail-end brushes my mouth, and I realise I gotta get up and run.

 

And I rise to squat on my supremely shapely haunches. And there are voices in the audience takin’ my side in the wrestle, and callin’ “Run Ima”, “Run darlin’ ”. And I recognise the voices of some copettes from my station house. And I realise they are doin’ nothin’ to rescue me, and that everybody there knows I’m a copette after that announcement on the speakers.

 

And I stand to run from the anaconda, but it has me wrapped tight around my ankles and I fall flat on my back on the mattress. And I watch with horror as it keeps my ankles tied with its wrap.

 

And it’s slitherin’ up me real slow, so slow, windin’ itself around my beautiful right leg. And it slow, so slow, slides itself above my knee, and slow, so slow, oh so slow, it’s wrappin’ around my thigh. And slow, so slow, so slow, oh so slow, its head appears between my powerful thighs.

 

And I grab it’s neck in both my pretty little hands. But it’s a whole lot stronger than me. And I watch with horror on horror as its forked tongue flicks in and out and flickers in the air a sniffin’ the girlscent from the tight-shut shaven and imaculately-smooth moonlight reflectin’ gentle lips of my succubus.

 

And I wrestle it with my lovely hands to hold it back.

 

And then I scream and scream and scream, as the anaconda’s head is dived into partin’ my lips, and she ain’t stoppin’ as she flows inta my devil and I can’t escape cos she’s got my ankles tied-rope still with her tail end. And she’s way too strong for my little hands.

 

And I fight to pull her outta me. And I scream as I feel her jaws open within my tightness and again and louder with terrible pain as somethin’ snaps slap within me when Anna bursts my drum. And I’m bleedin’ all over the mattress and as the audience lets outta whoop and jeers, I’m screamin’ still with the pain of bein’ deflowered.

 

And the woman on the public address is givin’ the technical data: “Anna Conda has been trained to find dead mice secreted in tight moist warm pockets. A mere mouse is but a snack for Anna of course, but she’ll go all the way in and some more to find such a tasty morsel.”

 

“And when there isn’t actually a dead mouse meal in there, she ain’t gonna know that, and will go even further in still, to search with her flickerin’ tongue and the openin’ and closin’ of her jaws, lookin’ for that promised chance for a tasty bite…”

 

And to prove it true, Anna is workin’ herself deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper into my beelzebub. And I feel her tongue flickin’ and her jaws open and close and I’m suddenly wettin’ up like a June monsoon.

 

And I’m cryin’ out with the pain of joy and the joy of pain as Anna is still writhin’ and wrigglin’ deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper into my sluice.

 

And I cum. I buck like a snake myself, as if’n I’m in a fit, or as if’n I’d been shotgun-pelleted both barrels in my butt, and I scream and holler and I cum and cum, as Anna is workin’ herself deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper into my beelzebub. And I’m gaspin’ and my mouth is open as my eyes roll up to heaven with a cum and I’m moanin’ with surrender with my mouth invitin’ Anna to go right through me and slither out over my tongue I’m so wishin’, as I cum and cum and cum and Anna goes deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and I feel her flickin’ tongue and her jaw openin’ real wide inside me. And I scream and scream and scream and swivel my head side-to-side wild like I was noing a yes to what was happenin’ as I cum and cum and cum and cum as Anna reaches my very soul.

 

And the audience is a shoutin’ and a stompin’ and my fellow copettes are clappin’ and cheerin’ and jeerin; as I nearly faint with exhaustion from my pleasure as peristaltic waves in my succubus cease: and I have Anna’s head squeezed tighter and harder than when she was stranglin’ my neck. And I’m in love-muscle-lock.

 

My satin-sluice’s muscles are cramped excruciatingly tight and agonisingly pleasurable painfully for me. And Anna is fightin’ for my cunt not to crush her? And she is openin’ and closin’ her jaw the little she can with my cramp-clamp-grip beelzebub’s sidewalls crushin’ her. And she is fightin’ to withdraw from my mailbox and my legs are free and I stagger to my feet with the anaconda still deep and double-deep’s-deep within my mailbox.

 

And Anna’s now loose tail begins to whisk in her fight for my cunt not to crush-kill her. And then ‘swish’, and her tail-end wraps clean twice round my eighteen-inch waist and its heavy end whips my ass. And then her whole body drops ground and flashes up ‘tween my legs and over my left shoulder, and she whips my left tit.

 

And I’m gaspin’ and cryin’ like an animal for more. And Anna’s desperate struggle in my crushin’ beelzebub makes her tail whistle through the air double-rocket over my shoulders. And she whips my tits in turn even as her head is still super-deep up within me. And my bare tits getta larrupin’ from Anna’s tail-end like I was bein’ bullwhipped.

 

And then her tail grabs me around my neck, and she is stranglin’ me and I am gaspin’ and I cum so massive that I fall ground in orgasmic convulsions, my pain-pleasure enhanced by Anna’s death threatenin’ stranglehold, still with the anaconda’s huge head and giant body deep buried up hard and supremely extremely high within my moist cave. And I stagger to my feet a livin’ orgasm, as Anna once more lets go my neck and her body whisks wicked and whips my tits, slaps my back, and whips my tits twice more on each heavy tit, and I scream and scream and scream and scream and scream as Anna’s tail flogs my tits over my shoulders while her upper body now free from the crushin’ of the most-girl of my muscles, wriggles and writhes and works itself deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper into me, as her tail lashes my tits bullwhip-hard. And my nipples are made harder than ruby-red-diamonds as I orgasm and holler and screech with my horror and pain and my beyond-pleasure’s pleasure as Anna writhes and wriggles deeper and deeper into my succubus and her tail lashes hell outta my reboundin’ tits.

 

And as Anna’s forked tongue flickers to tease tickle taunt and haunt my pink, and her jaw opens insideame to swallow my soul whole, I cum with a cum so massive I buckle at my knees, droppin’ to the ground and archin’ over backwards my whole wholly beautiful wholly holy female body locked in agonisin’ cramps, the agonisin’ cramps of a girl who’s every single muscle and sinew is in the super-spasm of an orgasm’s orgasm. I was no longer even girl, I was undiluted unadulterated orgasm. I was orgasm: pure orgasm, body mind and snake swallowed soul whole, drownin’ Anna in my girl-juice as I cum in front of that shoutin’ clappin’ stompin’ cheerin’ and jeerin’ audience in an atom-splittin’ cum of a cum of a cum’s cum.

 

[to be continued]