Carl's Japanese business associate

You smack your lips, admiring the red lipstick, and rush out to hurry downstairs to get a glimpse of the man who would father your child. But when you exit the bathroom, Alex is waiting in the hallway. His arms crossed over his chest, he leans against the frame of the door to his bedroom.

"My Dad always said I treated cunts with too much respect." He scoffs through his nose at you. "Look at you. You pathetic whore. Jesus Christ, you used to be a man! And now you're just another needy little slut. Dad always said all women are cunts and all cunts are good for is taking cock and taking beatings. I didn't believe him until I saw how easily he took control of you." He reaches out and pinches your left nipple through your DUMB shirt. "You actually like it like this, don't you, bitch?"

All you can do is nod. He sneers at you. "I should have cum inside you when I had the chance; then you'd be MY ****," he shakes his head. "Better hurry, whore. Somebody paid a lot of money for that pussy."

Alex releases your nipple and drops his hand to the front of his pants where you see him stroke his bulge. Your pussy starts to leak as you realize that you made his cock hard. He thinks I'm pretty! You turn to leave and make sure to swing your hips a little extra to give Alex a nice look at your ass on your way downstairs. Just because I'm his Dad's ****, that doesn't mean I can't show off for Alex too.

As you enter the living room, Carl quickly grabs you by the throat and pushes you against the wall.

"Listen, cunt. Your name is Cindi with an I. You dot that I with a heart because you're a stupid little teenage bimbo. I told this guy you just turned eighteen and that's why he's paying, so play it up. You're young, dumb, and ready for cum. Alex was tutoring you, but you were too fucking dumb to learn anything and you're flunking out of school, so he fucked you and I fucked you and then you told me you want someone to get you pregnant so you can get try to get on a reality show. Your biggest dream in life is to be famous for getting knocked up. You're dumb, you're a little scared, but you're a horny slut and you're ready to fuck. Got that, Cindi?"

Like, ohmygod, this is so fucking hot. My name is Cindi!

For the past two days, Carl had only called you cunt, bitch, slut, bimbo, whore, skank, twat, dummy, stupid, retard, fuckpig, cocksucker, ****, and once he even called you John. You hated that he called you John. But now he gave you a NAME. A REAL NAME. And such a super cute one too! Cindi! With an I! Cindi sounds like she'd be a cheerleader, or a stripper, or the most popular girl at school. Well, whatever she is, she's definitely super hot and fuckable--

Carl shocked you back to attention with a sharp slap across your face and continued: "This guy is important, cunt. He's a big deal in my industry, he's a Vice President of one of the biggest companies in Japan. He handles all their international business and he's a real sonofabitch, so you behave. If he suspects you're not what I sold him, I'm going to lose a ton of business, and I'm going to have to sell your ass off for a snuff film, so play your part."

He released your throat and you feel the blood resume its normal flow to your brain.

"Yes sir, Daddy. I'll be a perfect little teen bimbo slut for your friend if it means I'll get pregnant and get to stay here serving you forever."

Carl looks into your perfect blue eyes and smirks. He brushes a lock of your long blonde hair off your face and says the words you've been aching to hear him say.

"Good girl."

Your pussy gushes with excitement and your knees nearly buckle. Holy fuck! As you steady yourself atop your slut heels, Carl opens the door to reveal an obese Asian man in his late 50s wearing a well-tailored grey suit and blue shirt. He wears no tie and his collar is open. His hair is thick and streaked with white, and fashionable glasses perch on his nose.

"Osamu! Good to see you, man! Please, come in, come in!" Carl beckons him inside. Osamu enters.

"Carl. Thank you." His voice is calm and confident, with just the slightest hint of an accent. Obviously, this man has money, power, and status. It would take something special to bring him to Carl's ordinary middle-class two-story house. His eyes landed on you and you felt them sweep across you from your painted toes to the top of your blonde mane, drinking in every curve. "This is the girl?"

"That's right, Osamu. This is Cindi. With an I. She was in high school until she dropped out this year. Her folks hired my son to tutor her, but she's just too stupid, so he fucked her and then passed the little slut over to his old man. Turns out the dumb bitch loves old guys."

As Carl laid out your fake backstory, you smile stupidly and wave, making sure to jiggle your tits.

Osamu raises a hand to quiet Carl and slowly approaches you. He leans in and places a hand on your waist. You close your eyes and part your lips to accept his kiss, but instead he puts his other hand on the other side and speads his hands across your waist. He slides his hands up to your ribcage, and then presses on the sides of your tits.

"What are your measurements."

You freeze.

"Uh... I don't really know, sir? I just got this bra yesterday, the girl at Victoria's Secret said I needed a double D..."

"It's wrong. Bad fit. Yuki!" he snaps.

He steps back, and a small Japanese girl steps through the door wearing a painted-on pencil skirt and tight white blouse with four-inch stilletos. Even if you didn't have your slut heels on, she would still be at least four inches shorter than you. And with her tiny frame, you noted jealously, she probably weighs at least fifty pounds less than you. She was strikingly beautiful, with soft delicate features enhanced by makeup that made her look like she belonged in the pages of a magazine. Although, with the size of her giant fake tits, the magazine would probably be pornographic in nature.

"My stepdaughter, Yuki. She turned twenty-five last month, so she's much too old to interest me sexually anymore. Yuki, get her measurments."

Yuki closes the distance and produces a sewing tape measure and begins taking your measurements with the practiced speed of a pro.

"Height, five foot six. Waist: twenty-two. Hips: thirty-four. Bust..."

As she pauses, she moves behind you and swiftly reaches a hand up the back of your shirt and unclasps your bra, then slides both hands inside the cups and hefts your tits. You yelp in surprise, but she isn't deterred. She squeezes both, gives your nipples a slight pinch, and removes her hands.

"She needs a thirty-two E."

32E? Fucking hell. I'm a bombshell. I'm so happy Carl likes my big tits.

"Is she natural?"

"Yes, Osamu-san. No surgery."

"Excellent. Dress her for dinner."

Yuki bows and scuttles out the door.

"Stay here, baby," said Carl. "I'm going to fix Osamu a drink. Yuki will get you ready."

The two men left the room and you stand there with your bra unclasped under your top feeling a little foolish, but then Yuki returns mere seconds later with a small bag. She grabs the bottom of your shirt and pulls it up over your head. This isn't the time to be modest, so you let her strip you. She pushes the cheap VS bra Carl had bought you yesterday off your shoulders. Yuki reaches into the bag and produces a black lace properly-sized bra, which she puts you into and clasps. She continues stripping you, removing your skirt and pressing you to step down off your slut heels. From the bag, she pulls out black thigh-high stockings, a black body-hugging microdress and a pair of matching heels, the same as hers.

"You are honored to have Osamu-san's child," Yuki said as she knelt to roll the thigh-high stockings up your long shaved legs.

You know how to answer. "I sure am! I just turned eighteen and I'm way too dumb for school." It's fun to play the part of a stupid little teen slut. You know that you're really smart and you're just playing dumb to make Carl happy. After all, you were on the Dean's List last semester. Well, John was. Cindi could never be on the Dean's List. Unless he had a list of sluts. "I was planning on trying to be a stripper, but then I saw that show Teen Mom and now I want to have a baby so I can be famous like the girls on TV!"

Yuki sneers at you. You can tell that she thinks she's better than you. But now that she's twenty-five and all old, her stepdaddy doesn't want to fuck her anymore. He wants to fuck you instead. Poor thing. So I guess that means she's NOT better than me, you think.

"How big are your titties?" you ask. This is how a bimbo would make conversation with another girl.

She looks up at you through her narrow eyes as she adjusts your stockings.

"Twenty-eight J," she says as she stands and helps you into your new dress.

"How long have you had them?"

"Six years. They were a birthday present from Osamu-san. He likes large breasts."

"You look fucking hot with them," you say.

"Yes. But Osamu is done with me now. Like my mother when she turned twenty-five. And my stepmother. You are very lucky girl that he wishes to impregnate you. It is my great regret that I could not give him a child." Yuki sighs.

"I'm sure you'll be able to find a new Daddy to treat you right," you tell her. "You're still super fuckable for an older lady."

"Come now," she scowls. She leads you back to the living room to find Carl and Osamu engaged in conversation. Yuki approaches the men, sinks to her knees and lowers her head. She shoots you a glance and you follow her, kneeling beside her as you wait for the men to finish talking. You can't make heads nor tails of their conversation, all you can focus on is how hot you must look kneeling next to this little Japanese girl.

The men stand. Yuki moves from kneeling to put her face against the floor with her ass up in the air. She shoots daggers at you out the side of her eye. You can tell she wants you to follow her, but you're better than her. You're younger. You're hotter. Your tits are real... well, they're magical. If Carl or Osamu wants me to put my pretty face on the floor, they'll tell me. Or push me down, you think, feeling your pussy moisten at the idea.

Carl wraps his hand in your blonde hair and pulls you to your feet.

"Yes, sir?" you say.

"Osamu is going to take you on a date to a restaurant. You are going to be a good little whore for him. You will do exactly as he says as if he were me. Got it, cunt?"

You smile and nod enthusiastically. Carl slaps you hard in the face.

"Don't you embarrass me, bitch."

Carl releases your hair and grabs a handful of your ass as he leads you to Osamu.

"You two have fun tonight," he says.

Osamu eyes you. "I expect we will. Yuki, put your body to use and show Carl a good time while we're gone."

Yuki didn't flinch. "Yes, Osamu-san." He must loan her out a lot. She took her face off the floor and rose back up to her knees in front of Carl.

As Osamu finally put his hand on your ass to lead you out, you felt jealousy burning inside of you. Was Carl really going to fuck that little Japanese cunt? Why? You're so much sexier than her!

You step out into the night and before the door closes, you see Carl slap her across the face.

Your stomach sinks. That was YOUR slap! You take his beatings better than that old slanty-eyed bitch; she didn't even say thank you!

"Put that Jap throat to work, cunt," he says, dropping his pants. But... that's YOUR cock to suck! You resolve that upon your return you will be the best fuckslave Carl could ever want. He won't ever be able to get another erection without your tits, throat, pussy, or asshole wrapping around it.

The door slams and your attention comes back to Osamu's hand squeezing your fat asscheeks. He leads you to a towncar parked in front of the house. Another beautiful Japanese girl stands next to the car dressed identically to Yuki, but with a driver's cap atop her head. She also has prominent fake tits jutting out from her tiny body. She clicks around the car on her tall heels and opens the rear door for you and Osamu. She's really beautiful. Osamu has stellar taste in sluts, you think.

"Osamu-san," she says with deference as the both of you enter the car. She closes the door and takes her position behind the wheel.

"She's hot," you say quietly.

"My stepdaughter, Hina. She is a skilled driver and an excellent cocksucker. Even better than her stepsisters."

You catch Hina's eye in the rearview mirror and you sense her pride at Osamu's praise. This man has all these beautiful stepdaughters to service his dick, but he paid for you. You want to prove that you're worth it.

"Mr. Carl says I'm real good at sucking cock too, mister. Want to see?"

Osamu thinks a moment. "Hina, how long until we arrive?"

"Ten minutes, Osamu-san."

"Not yet, my little American toy." He puts his arm around your shoulders and pulls you close to his fat belly. "We will have plenty of time."

You ride in mostly silence. Osamu alternates between texting on his phone and groping your tits, occasionally doing both at once. You try to initiate sex or conversation a few times, but the old Japanese man either doesn't hear your words or truly does not give half a fuck what the eighteen year-old whore he hired thinks about anything.

Just under ten minutes later, you pull into the parking lot of an upscale steakhouse. You know this place well, it's the Blue Lodge. You used to bus tables here, back when you were John... so, up until last week.

Hina parks, cuts the engine, and quickly exits the vehicle to come open the door for Osamu. Once he's out, he turns and offers you a hand and helps you from the car. His hand then immediately returns to your ass, which he squeezes and uses like a rudder to steer you toward the door.

"My apologies for not taking you someplace nicer. This is the most expensive restaurant for many miles."

"Oh, that's okay," you reply. "Steak isn't the meat I'm interested in!"

Osamu eyes you for a moment. Oh no! That was a pun! Was that too clever? I'm supposed to be stupid! I'm a dumb stupid bimbo! If Osamu thinks I'm too smart to knock up, then Carl won't want to fuck me ever again!

Then, he cracks a smile. "Yes, well, first we eat, my little toy. Then we fuck."

He opens the door and ushers you inside your former workplace. He confirms his reservation with the host and you're brought to the private dining room. You know that just booking this room costs $1500. This guy is loaded.

Osamu sits at one end of the table. You move to sit opposite him, but he snaps his fingers and waves you to the chair that's right next to him. You sit, and he places his hand on your exposed thigh.

A moment later, a beautiful young brunette comes in and drops menus on the table. Your jaw drops for a second.

"Good evening. My name is Allison and I'll be your server tonight. Our specials are..." she begins listing the specials as your brain starts to piece together that yes, your waitress on the night that you are going to be impregnated by a stranger that paid your best friend's dad after he and your friend both fucked you after you got magically turned into a gorgeous submissive nymphomaniac is none other than your girlfriend of the last two months Allison. She's probably been trying to call you. You're supposed to be working right now.

You hear Osamu order something, but his words sound like he's underwater or something.

"Very good, sir," says Allison. "And you, sweetheart? What would you like?"

"Uh... I don't know," you answer stupidly.

"Caesar salad," Osamu interjects.

"Will that be all?"

You nod.

"I'll be right back with your drink, sir."

Allison exits the private room, and your eyes reflexively focus on her tight gymnastics-toned butt in her black pants as you have done hundreds of times before. Instead of your usual thoughts of wishing you could fuck her, you instead start unconsciously comparing your body to hers. Her ass is tight muscle, yours is a pleasing jiggly bubble. Her tits are a handful, yours are huge. Her stomach is a six-pack, yours is flat and toned but not muscular.

Osamu chuckles. "You like her."

"What?"

"You want to fuck the waitress? I will invite her to join us."

"What? No! No, mister Osamu, sir. I... I'm not--"

"No, it is okay. You are scared I think you are homosexual. No, do not worry, little toy. I know you are not. Carl says you are a 'dick-obsessed cum-junkie.'" He squeezes your thigh. "But I know that all sluts like you enjoy playing with girls almost as much as you like being used by men."

Allison returns with a glass of whiskey, which she places in front of Osamu.

"Your drink, sir."

"You are a very beautiful girl," Osamu says.

"Thank you, sir," Allison replies.

Osamu takes a one hundred dollar bill from his pocket and holds it out to Allison.

"Thank you for the drink."

Allison eyes the bill for a moment. Then her eyes flick to you. She glances down at Osamu's hand creeping up your thigh. Then back to the money.

She steps forward and reaches for it. Osamu pulls it away.

"Not with your hands."

Allison freezes.

"Sir?"

"Your mouth."

He locks eyes with Allison. You know she wants the money. She's been saving for a car. Her lip trembles.

"M...my mouth?"

You think you can see her green eyes moisten. Is she going to cry?

Osamu adds a second hundred to the bill in his hand. Allison blushes, but she makes up her mind. She leans forward and bites the bills in Osamu's outstretched hand, giving him a nice peek down the front of her shirt.

"That's a good girl," he says to your girlfriend. "And plenty more where that came from."

She pulls back and takes the money out of her mouth.

"Thank you, sir."