Thursday, 12 April 2012

Cristina, Part Three

I started off very quietly and introduced myself to the tarts. I told them that I was acting on behalf of the owner of the dive and I went on to say that I hoped that their time in Mexico City would be happy and profitable for them all. If there were no questions, then I would leave them to get on with their work, banging their brains out with a lusty Mexican between their milky thighs. There are no questions? Jolly good - well off you go my girls, whereupon five whores, all with rictus grins on their faces, made to leave.

"There is just one thing before you go," I added in my best silky manner.

The whores paused and stood rooted to the spot. I remember that one of them started to cast nervous glances at the cops and another began to fidget with her hair. The others had that look on their faces that said they wished to be elsewhere.

"We, that is the police and I, just need to check your residence documents. Just to make sure that you are all nice and legal in these United Mexican States," I cooed sweetly.

That did it, as I knew it would. All hell broke loose as five Argentinian mouths all opened at once and their owners started to scream as only a Latin type can. I have to be honest and say that it was very entertaining as the eyes flashed, hands waved and boobs moved sensuously as the girls hopped around giving it tongue in a big way. I fished out my cigarettes and offered the pack to my two police chums. Then the three of us stood there enjoying both our smokes and the high decibel yelps of five outraged whores.

All good things have to come to an end of course, and my free entertainment ended with a question from me which the tarts did not hear properly, but which shut them up for a moment which was my intention. As soon as they were quiet I asked my question again:

"Is Paco a cunt in your opinion?" Eyes widened and jaws dropped as they took on board my query. I saw a nervous grin begin to emerge on one set of lips, so I repeated the question, putting all the vehemence that I could into my Spanish words: "Do you think that he is a fucking cunt?"

Five heads stared to shake uneasily. Very good, very good indeed. Yes, we were getting there.

"OK, so if he is not a cunt, then why are to trying to fuck him as if he were a cunt? I mean, a cunt exists to be fucked, and you have already agreed that Paco is not a fucking cunt, so why are you fucking him as if he were a cunt?" I paused for effect, staring into five sets of eyes in turn, holding the gaze until the minger dropped her eyes.

"I can get you lot deported tonight and earn a lot of money doing it," I said, showing them the leaflets. The tarts were by now very quiet indeed and you could have heard a pin drop in that room.

"Alternatively, we can come to an agreement," I said, giving the little slappers a glimmer of light. I saw five pairs of eyes begin to sparkle with a wary hunger in them.

"What type of agreement?" The girl who asked the question was a curly haired blonde with large breasts and a little snub nose. I was willing to bet money that the punters were queuing up to get access to the pussy that she carried.

"What's your name?"

"Cristina, what's yours?"

"None of your fucking business," I told her. "Now then, nobody expects you to do anything that you have not already agreed to do. Nobody expects you not to be paid the agreed amount, unless you are giving the odd freebie to a friend of the club," I went on, ever the reasonable man.

"The problem is that you have been agreeing to perform and then you try to wriggle out of your undertaking. Or you give shit to your punter. Or you do any number of little stunts which annoy the  punter." I saw a mouth open to protest so I moved to cut off the possibility of protest: "Let me explain that what drops out of the crack in my arse after a fucking good meal is more important than you; more important than any fucking woman, come to think of it. All I care about is a friendly pussy with an obedient owner," I concluded truthfully.

"Please," wailed Cristina, bursting into tears. "Please I am not really a whore. I'm a schoolteacher!"

"And then the economy fucking tanked, and you ended up here because whoring in Mexico is better than scavenging for food on a rubbish tip in Buenos Aires," I told her.

"A man brought me here and then he dumped me," she wailed. "I can't get home and I don't know what to do," she went on pityingly.

"Sweetheart," I told her, "do you really think that I give a fuck whether you live or die? I paused for a minute to let my words sink in and then I hit her between the eyes with my next sentence: "If you were to catch fire I wouldn't piss on you to put out the flames, not unless you were giving me regular access to your cunt!"

"Nobody has ever spoken to me like this!"

I shook my head in amazement at the bitch's stupidity and I was about to go back to the Interior Ministry people and just hand the lot of them over for the reward, when one of the other girls held her hand up to ask me to hold off for a moment. I saw the girls looking at one another, doing that half chat, half body language, that women use when they want to reach a quick understanding between themselves. Then the girl who had asked me to wait spoke up and said that they would do as I asked. I gave a heavy sigh and asked one of the cops to go and bring Paco in.

The good owner of the club must have been waiting outside the door because within seconds of the cop stepping outside, Paco was stepping in, looking for all the world like a steam powered ferret as his eyes darted from one girl to the next and then across to me.

"We have an agreement," I told him. "The whores will perform like good whores should and will give every punter that they meet the impression that he is Mr Big Dick writ large.

One of the tarts tried and failed to stifle a guffaw at that, so I quickly added: "Of course, nobody has said that they cannot lie through their teeth."

Paco grinned, and behind me I sensed that the cops were stirring. Of course, they wanted their payment.

"These cops need a girl each and a bottle of something nice," I told Paco.

"Of course," he replied. "Take your pick," he went on, waving expansively at the whores.

The good ladies were about to protest, but one look at my face quickly persuaded them that such a move would be counter productive. Each cop chose a whore and went off to get his free blow job. I grabbed Cristina for my pleasure and the other two hurriedly scampered off before someone came along and demanded freebies from them.

"Right," I said, closing the door. "Let's see how good you are at sucking a cock. Remember," I told her, ever the teacher, "that good girls suck, but bad girls swallow every drop!"

To be continued

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