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Review This Story || Author: Exacting Master

The Starlet Slave

6. The Examination

THE STARLET SLAVE 6 
joypaine

6. The Examination

Peck felt my tits again as soon as he got me into his office -- both  hands,
this time -- and then he told me to sit down. His voice really  oozed as he
pointed out that he didn't want to ruin my life by turning  me in to the police
-- a stigma like that could follow me to my grave,  and he didn't want to bear
the responsibility of destroying a fragile  flower like me. And just think what
the shock would do to my mother. She  had suffered a severe heart attack last
year when Dad was killed in that  traffic accident, and a blow like this might
finish her off for good.

But, he went on, he couldn't let me off without any punishment at all --  that
would be bad for my character -- and disastrous for his business if  word got
around. And he went on to tell me how hard it was to get the  right kind of help
these days, and maybe I'd be willing to work for him  as a sort of penance? I
assumed that he wanted me to work in the store --  shows how naive I was in
those days.

Well, the idea of being cooped up in the store, with his eyes -- and  hands, I
was sure -- all over me just about turned my stomach, but I  would have agreed
to just about anything to keep him from calling the  cops. So he said OK, it was
all agreed, but he'd have to have some kind  of guarantee that I would keep my
word. So would I sign this confession,  like a good girl?

It didn't occur to me at the time how fishy it all was -- his having the 
confession all ready and typed up and all -- but it wouldn't have made  much
difference to me if it had. I would have signed anything to get the  Hell out of
there and get a breath of fresh air. So I signed the damned  thing without even
reading it. That was my second mistake.

And then he said would I please give him back the jewelry I had stolen?   I
started to unpin the brooch, and he interrupted me. Not that cheap stuff, he
sneered -- he meant the really valuable stuff that was listed in the 
confession. As well as the other stuff that I had stolen from him over  the past
few weeks -- also listed in the confession.

That's when I really started to panic. I wept and I begged and I sobbed  that I
hadn't taken anything else, and that I knew what he was trying to  do, and he
didn't answer, but just sat there and grinned at my tits the  whole goddamned
time.

Finally, I ran down, and he started talking again. He didn't bother to  deny my
accusations -- Hell, we both knew better than that. And he said  that the only
way to prove that I was telling the truth was for him to  search me. He wrapped
his mouth around the word like a kid with a stick  of candy. Now, if I wanted to
go by the book, he went on, he could take me  down to headquarters and have a
police matron search me. But he assumed  that I still wanted to avoid involving
the police.

So that left us with two alternatives. Either he could frisk me --and  very
thoroughly, he assured me, or I could hand him my clothes, one  garment at a
time, so he could check whether I had anything hidden in them. And he meant all
of my clothes, he reminded me -- every last stitch.                                                             
Well, he had me good. If I didn't want to call in the police -- and I  didn't --
I had two choices. Either I stripped right down to the buff for  him, or I let
him have the feel of his life. I decided that being felt up  would be even worse
than stripping, so I started unbuttoning my blouse.

He didn't even go through the motions of searching it. he just folded it  and
laid it on the desk, and waited for my skirt.

And then he called for my bra. . .

Believe me, that's when a girl really feels lonely -- when she's locked  up with
a dirty old man who's telling her to take off her bra, and she  doesn't have any
say in the matter.

My fingers were shaking so I could hardly get the hooks undone, but I  finally
managed to work them free. It was a moment of sheer despair when  the bra came
away from my body and I felt the cold air on my tits. I held  the bra in front
of me for one desperate moment, while I wished the earth  would open up and
swallow me, and then I let it drop. Then I held my hands  cupped over my tits as
long as I dared, while I could feel his eyes boring  through my fingers.

He didn't try to rush me. The bastard was enjoying my embarrassment even  more
than the sight of my body.

Finally, I realized that my modesty was just turning him on, and I forced  my
hands down to my sides, and let him look to his heart's content. And  did he
ever look! I was hoping that he would have a heart attack or  something, but he
didn't, of course.

For some reason, it was easier to take my panties off than my bra had  been.
Maybe because the ice had already been broken, so to speak, maybe  because he
was so obviously a tit man, or -- who knows why?

So there I stood, stark naked except for my sandals and my bracelet,  while he
enjoyed what may have been the best free show that he had seen  in years. And
then he started talking abut his "stolen jewelry" again,  and allowed as how I
must have hidden it in my asshole or my twat.

Boy, did it ever get gross then! He made me spread my legs, and then he  grinned
at me while I had to spread my ass cheeks for him, and then my  cunt lips. And
then he had to feel for himself, of course. I was scared  to death that he was
going to ram his finger into me and break my cherry,  but he just joked a little
and made some vulgar comment like who was I  saving it for. And he had a good
time feeling of everything else while  he was about it. He squeezed my tits
again, too, but this time he really  put his heart into it -- maybe because they
were bare -- and I damn near  fainted from the pain.

Like I said, he was a real tit man.



Review This Story || Author: Exacting Master
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