You Are What You Are

Having accepted a dinner for two as a gift from Jean Paul, Molly sat across Frankie in the far corner of a little country steak house staring into her salad and thinking of Jason when a man she didn't know in a big cowboy hat, very expensive western suit and cowboy boots approached from behind her and stopped at their table.

"Hello Ya'll, I'm Ernie," the man announced, "and I just wanted to welcome you folks to my restaurant."

"Thank you," responded Frankie, "I'm Frankie and this is my wife, Molly."

"Well, dang my hide if you ain't a little cutie," replied Ernie, ignoring Frankie and speaking directly to Molly.

"Ahh, yes, yes she is," responded Frankie, now being totally ignored by Ernie, "and I am... very lucky."

"You know, I gotta tell you, little filly," offered Ernie, as he rudely sat down next to Molly and put his arm around her, resting it on the back of the booth, "I can't remember the last time I saw a cutie like you. You're just a fine little filly."

"Excuse me," responded Molly, now anxiously looking to Frankie for salvation, but receiving none.

"I tell you what," said Ernie, now turning to Frankie, "I'll give you fifty bucks if you'll let me see the little filly's tits."

"Frankie," beseeched Molly, expecting him to do something.

With all eyes now on Frankie, Molly was stupefied as, after a long silence, he gave his reply.

"A hundred."

"Frankie!" Molly again pleaded for help.

"A hundred and I get to look at em by Braille," proposed Ernie.

"Alright," agreed Frankie.

"Damn it! Frankie! Are you crazy!" protested Molly, to no effect.

"A hundred it is!" agreed Ernie, reaching into his pocket to pull out a roll of bills and slapping one of them on the table.

"No! Stop it!" exclaimed Molly, not willing to suffer such an indignity and trying to fight Ernie off with her hands, but her resistance was immediately dealt with as her head was jerked back against the booth by her hair and her nose pinched shut by Ernie's thumb and forefinger.

"You need to learn how to behave, little filly," growled Ernie, as he held her tightly in place while she squirmed in her seat and frantically looked to Frankie for help, but seeing he was going to do nothing to help her, she was finally forced to drop her hands to her sides in surrender.

"That's better," ordered Ernie, as he looked around the table for a few moments and after finding what he was looking for, administered some punishment for Molly's intransigence.

Selecting a wooden salt shaker which had been fashioned as a replica of a beer barrel and was slightly wider than a man's penis, he held it up for Molly's inspection and issued his horrible edict, "Open Wide."

Pushing it into her mouth till her teeth were past the bulge in the center, by the time her lips finished wrapping themselves around the slender end there was only a small ring of wood left at the end with the holes, which began spilling its contents onto Molly's blouse and lap for a few moments until it was empty.

"You know you're kind of a salty little filly," Ernie grinned at his own joke as Molly sat there with her mouth and lips wrapped around the shaker, "You get them clothes off now, and hurry up about it."

Having no recourse but to comply, Molly slowly unbuttoned her blouse, released the front clasp on her bra and handed each item to Ernie as he tossed them across the table to Frankie.

"You can keep these for a while," declared Ernie as he casually began to fondle Molly's breasts and nipples.

"Man, I'm telling you, these are some fine tities," declared Ernie "You just take your time with that salad now, Frankie Boy, you hear?"

"I always like to take my time with a salad," replied Frankie," compounding Molly's humiliation.

Suffering through the next fifteen minutes of trying not to drool her saliva around the edges of the shaker as Ernie had his way with her breasts, Molly also had to suffer through Ernie's continuous assessment.

"Easy to see as a pimple on a babies ass ya'll don't have no youngins," declared Ernie, "No, sir, these beautiful bazoomies ain't never been swelled up and stretched out."

"Some little feller's gonna have it real good though someday," continued Ernie, now reaching around Molly shoulders and squeezing both of her breasts, pushing her nipples out to prominence, "Just look at these teats! Teats is the best treats I always say."

Finally finishing his salad, Frankie very deliberately took his time wiping his mouth with his napkin, placing his fork in the bowl and slowly pushing them to the end of the table.

"Well now, that wasn't so bad was it, little filly," grinned Ernie as he pulled the shaker from Molly's mouth and returned it to the table.

"Alright, I believe we're done here, it was very nice to meet you, Ernie," declared Frankie.

"Whoa, Son!" exclaimed Ernie, "Don't be so quick to saddle up your giddyup. Maybe we can do some more business."

What did you have in mind?" asked Frankie.

"Frankie, for God's sake," Molly protested, only to be totally ignored.

"Well, I was just recollectin bout somethin I saw once over in Shreveport," said Ernie, "Had this little gal could spread her legs and reach all the way down and grab her ankles, keepin her legs straight and all, doncha see. Most beautiful thing you ever saw."

"Is that right," said Frankie.

"Better than buttermilk and biscuits," declared Ernie, "Now I was just wonderin... your little filly here, can she do that?"

"Absolutely, she used to be a gymnast," assured Frankie, "she can do it... for two hundred."

"Damn you Frankie! You go to hell!" exclaimed Molly, "and you too! I won't do it! You can't make me do it!"

Taking a long pause in which he only smiled at Molly like a cat looking at a mouse, Ernie retrieved his cell phone and made a call.

"Antonio lock everything down and turn on the lights over table 17, light it up good... bring me a fifth of Jack Daniels and a couple of shot glasses... and a fly swatter... you heard me, a fly swatter... no we don't have any goddamned flies... just bring it."

Forced to endure the amused look on the waiters face as he arrived and saw what was going on, Molly's attention was quickly returned to Ernie as he set the fly swatter on the table in front of her.

"Now, out in the country we got lotsa flies," said Ernie, ominously, and if there's one thing every country boy knows about fly swatter's it's that if you use the big end you can get someone's attention, but if you use the handle you can make a mule jump off a cliff."

Taking one of Molly's nipples between his forefinger and thumb and twisting it menacingly until she winced, Ernie reinforced his intention to get his way.

You get my drift little filly?"

"I get it," replied Molly, knowing she was going to do whatever it took not to get it.

"Good," said Ernie, picking up the salt shaker and inserting it back into Molly's mouth to punish her for her second round of resistance, "then get out there and get your damned clothes off."

Pouring himself a shot of whisky as Molly removed the rest of her clothes, Ernie finished the deal with Frankie.

"Thirty minutes sound fair?" asked Ernie.

"I don't think she can hold it that long," said Frankie.

"We'll give her a couple of breaks," countered Ernie.

"Deal," agreed Frankie.

Knowing any further resistance was futile, Molly didn't resist as Ernie put his hands on her shoulders and positioned her facing away from him right up against the booth where he was sitting and issued his final instructions.

"Not too wide now... just about shoulder width... that's it... okay little filly, let's see what you got."

Taking care to properly stretch her hamstrings and at the same time having to fight off the huge wave of humiliation that seemed to flow through her body and finally land in her gut , Molly slowly bent over and worked her hands down her legs until she could grasp her ankles.

Swaying from side to side a couple of times to settle into the position before finally becoming still, her mouth still wrapped around the salt shaker and her pussy now within an arm's length of Ernie's eyes, the only obstruction between them was the clear clean air.

"Dang my hide if that ain't the most beautiful pussy I ever saw!" exclaimed Ernie, slapping his thigh, "and the biggest one too! I swear I've seen a lot of pussy, but I ain't never seen a pussy that big, not on a human being anyhow! Kind of reminds of this little paint filly I had a few years back."

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" added Frankie, "I really like the bare look."

"You got that right," agreed Ernie, "Don't want no hair coverin that up!"

Suffering through until she was given her first break, Molly couldn't imagine things getting any worse until worse transformed itself into horrid and Antonio appeared carrying the steaks that she and Frankie had previously ordered and the conversation turned once again to her pussy.

"Ain't that the most beautiful pussy you ever saw?" Ernie asked the waiter.

"Yes, Sir, no doubt about it," answered Antonio, after taking a long moment to decide, "and the biggest too."

"Tell me, Antonio," asked Ernie, with a laugh, "just how many pussies have you seen?"

"Oh, a million I guess, maybe a little more," replied Antonio.

"What the fuck!" exclaimed Ernie, "You're telling me you've seen a million pussies?"

"Yes, Sir," answered Antonio.

"You fucking liar," exclaimed Ernie, "I otta kick your ass!"

"No, Sir," explained Antonio," I also work for an internet porn site. I screen pictures of naked women. I've been doing it for going on ten years now."

"Now I've fucking heard it all," exclaimed Ernie, "And you've seen a million pussies?"

"Yes, Sir," assured Antonio, "at least."

"Well, fuck me runnin on a wild mule!" declared Ernie, "And you never saw one that big before?" asked Ernie.

"No, Sir, never," assured Antonio.

"So that's a one in a million pussy," laughed Ernie, "I'll be a son of a bitch."

"If she ever wants her own website, she's got a gold mine there," added Antonio, obviously on the lookout for an opportunity.

"What did I tell you about oversteppin your bounds, Antonio," barked Ernie, "Now get the fuck back to work."

"Yes, Sir," replied Antonio, before thinking carefully for a moment, "Should I bring some more salt, Sir."

Hoping her ordeal was over, Molly looked imploringly to both Ernie and Frankie for mercy, but was instead pulled back into the booth next to Ernie where he resumed roughly fondling her breasts, this time not bothering to make any deal, as he and Frankie casually chatted about the weather and she was stuck with still trying to keep from drooling around the edges of the salt shaker.

I'll tell you what," said Ernie, after Antonio had delivered the desert and taken his time clearing away the dishes so he could get in on as much of the action with Molly's breasts as possible.

"I'll give you two hundred to see the little lady dance neeked... say for ten songs."

"Five hundred... for fifteen songs," bargained Frankie.

"Five hundred for twenty," countered Ernie.

"Deal," said Frankie.

Now knowing intimately the feeling of total despair, Molly had to fight hard to keep from crying as Ernie picked up his cell and called Antonio again.

"Put on some music, somethin good for dancin," ordered Ernie, "What?... only one?... Fuck... well, play it twenty times... and give it a couple of minutes between times... and put a ten minute break in the middle... and bring a wet towel... that's what I said ain't it, you dumb fucker... a wet towel."

Turning his attention to Molly, Ernie finally removed the salt shaker, but once again began twisting and pulling the nipple closest to him just hard enough to make her continually wince in pain as leaned close to her ear and issued his next set of diabolical instructions.

"Here's the deal," instructed Ernie, "There's jigglin and there's bouncin and there's shakin. Now, jigglin is nice, but bouncin and shakin is where it's at. Bouncin is up and down and shakin is back and forth.

Now I know you ain't never been to no strip club or nothin, but you seen them gal's on TV and in the movies do it when their dancin and stuff, and from now on you're goin to call me Sir, ain'tcha?"

"Yes, Sir," affirmed Molly, softly, the words sinking right back down to her gut in the form of humiliation.

"That's right," continued Ernie, "The only difference is they had their clothes on and you ain't gonna.

There's a fine art to it and you're gonna figure it out and you're gonna do it and you're gonna keep on doing it as long as the music's playin and in between songs you're gonna show me your pussy, just like before.

Remember, if I don't see enough bouncin and shakin, I'm gonna start bouncin the handle of this here fly swatter off that sweet little ass of yours. You got it, little filly?"

"Yes, Sir," Molly answered, softly.

"Tell me what you're gonna do now," ordered Ernie.

"I'm going to make my tits bounce and Shake," answered Molly, knowing she had to use the vulgar vernacular.

"That's right," said Ernie, "and you're going to do it just like I like it, aintcha."

"Yes, Sir," replied Molly.

"Alrighty then, you know what I want to see, so get after it," said Ernie, giving one of Molly's nipples a final painful twist for emphasis.

Making no reply, Molly grabbed the whiskey bottle, filled a shot glass to the brim and chugged it down as Ernie grinned.

"That's a good little filly."

Taking up a position just a couple of feet from Ernie's face, Molly didn't have to wait long for the music, and her next ordeal, to begin.

Having grown up a preachers kid, she had never danced in her life, so she began by simply swaying her hips back and forth awkwardly until she discovered the beat and then added a little step with her feet.

Having coming up with at least a general approximation of dancing, she continued on, slowly working out the up and down movements that would make her breasts bounce and just as Ernie had suggested, she remembered some of the times she had seen women shimmy their shoulders and shake their breasts provocatively.

Trying it for herself, she quickly caught on and thus barely managed to learn both movements just before the song ended for the first time.

Looking between her legs at Ernie for some indication of either his satisfaction or lack thereof as she bent over to display her pussy, Molly was relieved to see he wasn't taking any action, but when the song began again he took an active role in making sure she did it exactly to his liking.

"More," he demanded, making Molly increase the movements of her breasts until he was satisfied, "That's right... right there... that's perfect... just keep it up... bouncin and shakin... first one and then the other...there you go little filly."

Continuing on as the song played time after time, the true nature of Molly's ordeal began to be revealed as she was forced to keep bouncing and shaking her breasts exactly to Ernie's specifications .

With no hint of entertainment or fun or even eroticism, the only thing that was left was the profoundly humiliating business of exhibiting herself to one man who found his pleasure neither in eroticism nor fantasy, but only in that very humiliation.

Given a short break at the half-way point, Molly simply went to the floor on one hip and one arm to rest, her only consolation coming when Antonio brought her a wet towel, which he delivered draped over the handle of the fly swatter as a reminder that the second half of the show had better be as good as the first.

Thoroughly beaten both mentally and physically by the time the song had finished for the last time, Molly returned to the table and started looking for her clothes only to find Ernie had put them at the far end of the booth in which he was sitting.

With nothing to do but await her further fate, it wasn't long in coming.

"I tell you what," said Ernie, addressing Frankie, "I'll give you another five hundred if the little filly here sucks my dick."

"Frankie, for God's sake," pleaded Molly, softly.

"Come on, Honey," responded Frankie, denying her request, "It's just a blow-job. It's not like you haven't ever done it before."

"Do we have a deal?" asked Ernie.

"A thousand," replied Frankie.

"Whoa, Son, you shoulda been a horse trader, but I don't know, that's pretty steep."

"She's got this great little trick," offered Frankie, sweetening the pot, "Just before you come she stars sucking. She can absolutely drain your balls. It's great."

"How does she know when I'm gonna come?" asked Ernie.

"I don't know," answered Frankie, "she just knows."

"I don't know, sounds pretty hit and miss to me," hedged Ernie.

"Well, come up with some signal," suggested Frankie.

"How about I snap my fingers?" grinned Ernie.

"That would work," replied Frankie.

"Deal," agreed Ernie.

Once again pouring herself a shot of whiskey and chugging it down, Molly faced Ernie and spoke directly to him.

"He doesn't get to watch," she demanded.

"Seems fair to me," agreed Ernie, "Tell you what, Frankie Boy, why don't you go on out to the lobby and watch some TV. This is between me and Molly here. Part of the deal. You don't mind now, do ya?"

Retrieving the wet towel while Frankie made his way to the lobby and Ernie removed his boots, pants and underwear, Molly carefully heeded the advice Nick had given her and thoroughly washed and inspected his dick, which she was relieved to find was healthy and of less than average length, but above average in girth and off the scale in terms of ugly, with a big head, a large circumcision scar and big veins.

Deciding that she would rather die than kiss his dick or even look him in the eyes, Molly simply took Ernie's ugly dick in her mouth and began stroking away, but she was quickly corrected.

"I want to see the trick," demanded Ernie, as Molly forgot about not sharing her eyes with him and looked up at him in surprise.

"Go on, show me the trick," demanded Ernie.

Having no choice but to do as she was being told, Molly cast her eyes downward again and began sucking on the end of Ernie's dick, but was again quickly corrected.

"No, look back up at me," demanded Ernie, "I like it when you look at me."

Once again looking up, Molly continued with the awful task, but was then humiliated beyond all she had so far endured as Ernie slowly held out his hand next to her face and snapped his finger.

"You got it?" he asked, pointedly.

"Ummm," answered Molly, meekly.

"Good, now you just keep on doin what you're doin," ordered Ernie, "While I pour myself another drink here."

Waiting until Molly had spent another couple of minutes sucking on the end of his dick, Ernie finally decided it was time to move on to another one of his particular preferences.

"Now my balls. You gotta do balls before you move on the good stuff. First you lick em and then you put em in your mouth," said Ernie, before adding another condition with a little laugh, "bein real careful though, doncha see."

Having not yet added this particular activity to her oral repertoire, Molly tentatively began licking one of Ernie's balls, but he immediately ordered her in no uncertain terms to "get after it" and she quickly found herself vigorously licking away under his direct tutelage.

"Just pretend they're made of candy and you just stole em and you gotta get em all gone before anyone finds out," instructed Ernie, as he grinned down at her and made her go from one to the other as it pleased him.

Continuing on until her tongue began to tire and ache, Molly had mixed feelings when things went from bad to worse and Ernie decided it was time for the next logical step.

"Alright, little fillie, get one of em in there... that's right... that one will do... come on... open wide... all the way in," ordered Ernie, "Alright, look at me now... come on look at me."