Beauty Queen Slut Pt. 02

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Ass

Over the next months I had to entertain a variety of rich men, mostly older ones. None of them gave me an orgasm until I had my first gwielo (foreigner)and enjoyed a really big cock. It was during a promotion trip to London that I was given to Sir Peter Manson, a leading businessman in the City who was head of a major Hongkong trading company.

He was married to a Chinese from a wealthy Hong Kong family and I was told had an insatiable appetite for Asian pussy, with several beautiful mistresses. Apparently he had an arrangement to fuck every Miss Hongkong and I was the latest.

I had a hectic schedule of functions and was tired when he came to me in a luxury penthouse in London. I was again in the swimsuit, carefully made up, more practised now, and smiling professionally, hands on hips, as he came into the bedroom.

“Ah, Stella,” he said. “I have been waiting since you won the title to meet you.”

He was handsome man, well built, in his early 50s with greying hair. I greeted him and paraded myself, buttocks moving.

“No need to show yourself off like a whore,” he said. “Just strip and give me a blow job.”

He was blunt. I obeyed as he sat in an armchair, then came to him. He ran his hands over me as I stood in front of him, exploring my crotch, buttocks, belly and up to my bust.

“Great breasts,” he said. tweaking the nipples. “Most of my friends complain Chinese women are flat chested but I tell them not all of them are.”

I went on my knees and unzipped his fly, pulling out a massive prick which hardened as I massaged it in my hand. More than ten inches long and very thick. Much bigger than any of my previous 20 Chinese men.

“Biggest you’ve had, eh,” he smiled.

I rubbed him between my breasts and then licked his stem, before taking him in my mouth. I had to stretch my lips to get him in and couldn’t take the full cock. I’d learned to deep throat but not with this size. He groaned as I got to work.

“You have learned well, m’dear,” he said as I went to work.

It was the hardest blow job I’d given because he was so big. My jaws ached after a few minutes and it took a lot of effort to make him come. One hand playing with the shaft, while my tongue and lips stimulated the cock head and took him as deep as I could in my throat. Finally he gave a cry and nearly choked me as he shoved his dick down my throat, face fucking me as he ejaculated a long hot bitter stream of semen which I swallowed. Some overspilled onto my face and breasts, and I knelt gasping for breath between his legs.

“Excellent. You are as good as Betsy Kwan,” he said referring to a notorious blue movie actress who was famous for giving blow jobs.

That night he gave me my first real fucking. He knew how to arouse a woman and after he quickly recovered his erection, he first of all went down to eat my pussy. Some men had done this before but not expertly like him. His probing tongue inside my snatch soon had me crying out and I came noisely on his face, squirting out my fluids.

“You are a very horny girl,” he laughed.

Then he sucked my nipples until they felt as if they’d explode, while fingering me into an orgasm. Next he mounted me, his big cock sliding into my very wet vagina. It only took him a few strokes to bring me to climax again, my nails dug into his buttocks as he rode me.

Three more times I creamed myself before he eventually lost control and exploded inside me. I lay totally exhausted, sweat running off my body, fluids flowing out of my pussy.

“So, I don’t think you have enjoyed gwielo cock before. A lot of Chinese ladies never want anything else after they’d had it,” he said.

For the first time I’d given myself totally to a man, and amazingly he did it to me twice more. A real stud.

“You are very horny, Stella,” he said. “Be careful you don’t continue in this life too long. Find a rich man and settle down before Leung wears you out whoring like some of the others.”

It was good advice. I didn’t look on myself as a whore like those who worked in bars or brothels. But it was a sophisticated form of prostitution. I could name lots of famous names who did exactly the same as me. All were tied to Gary Leung. Four years of being bedded followed, and then I met Tom Franklin. He was a British man working in Hongkong. He had no idea who I was at first. He was older than me by 15 years but so different from those men I usually met. Kind, witty, caring. For the first time I fell in love.

I won’t go into the details of our romance, but my mother was against him. So was Leung. There was still a lot of money to be made out of my body. Pressure was put on me to break it off. I knew my time in show business was over if I married him. I told him everything about myself, leaving nothing out. How I’d opened my legs for so many men. My past didn’t matter to him.

We left Hong Kong for several years. I had two children – a boy and a girl. But business brought us back. I was very happy, not missing the glamourous casino oyna but false life of show business. Then suddenly everything changed. After 16 wonderful years, Tom had a sudden heart attack and died instantly. I was devastated. Then I discovered that he was in deep debt.

He had left me nothing but millions owed to various creditors. it didn’t take long for them to target me. I faced losing our flat, everything. My children, aged 11 and 13 were at expensive overseas schools. I was at my wit’s end. Being penniless in Hong Kong means you soon lose the so-called friends who wanted to know you in the good times. Those that did stick with me were in no position to help. My solicitor told me I owed more than HK$30 million.

At 41, I had kept my slim figure and worked to preserve my beauty in the gym and through caring for my skin. I suppose I could pass for early 30s in the right light. The thought of returning to Gary Leung’s stable had not occurred to me. I was too old and Leung had made clear when I married that there was no way back for me. He was angry at losing me when I was still in my prime – and to a gwielo at that. Chinese are very sensitive about their women preferring caucasians. Tom had been laughed at behind his back by Chinese men who thought he didn’t know about my past. There is a lot of hypocrisy over sex, with women branded as whores by men who have mistresses and visit prostitutes.

I didn’t know that plans were being made for me. I had heard rumours about Carina Tse who was about my age and was amazed when she suddenly became a sex bomb actress at 40, appearing in a couple of soft porn movies. It caused a sensation and her photos were all over the lurid gutter press. In bikinis, sexy mini dresses, topless. Gary Leung had very cleverly marketed the aging actress and generated excitement. Her career had been in nose dive before this and now she was hot. In a centrefold in Asian Penthouse, she showed off every inch of her body as she posed open legged.

I heard that she was providing a lot of sex to cash in on her fame. Celebrity gang bangs were mentioned but this was all rumour. Leung was running her ass and you could be sure she was having to do things she didn’t want to do. Then came a couple of other aging actresses who followed in her footsteps, posing nude and doing blue films. Leung had hit on a gold mine as people flocked to see the previously straight actresses naked in films and performing steamy sex scenes.

It was then I was surprised to receive a summons from Leung through one of his minions. He came to my house with the invite. He said he didn’t know the details but Mr Leung would tell me what he wanted. I thought about rejecting the invite but I was desperate. Puzzled at what he wanted with me, I got ready by having my hair done, and wearing a tight white suit and matching blouse. I hadn’t really dressed up for a while with all the troubles. The limo came for me and I was taken to his office in penthouse in Central.

I hadn’t seen him for many years. He was older but not that much changed. Still the same cunning bastard who’d lured me into his web.

“Ah, you are as beautiful as ever Siu Mei,” he said using my Chinese name.

He commiserated with me over my loss, offered tea and then quickly got down to business.

“I understand you are in some financial difficulties and thought I might be able to help.Perhaps you’d be interested in a job back in movies,” he said..

“But I’ve been out of films for many years. No one will remember me.” I replied.

“You’re wrong.” he smiled. “A former Miss Hong Kong is never forgotten. You might have seen how successful Carina Tse has been in re-launching her career. I think you could do the same.”

“But she’s done porn movies,” I said.

“Exactly. And the box office has been tremendous. You could do even better,” said Leung.

“You want me to do porn movies? That’s crazy,” I exclaimed, taken aback by the offer.

“No it’s not. You’ve got a better figure than Carina. You have kept yourself very well. As a former Miss Hong Kong you’d be a sensation and make a lot of money.”

“I’m a mother of two children. I’m 41. I’ve just been widowed and you want me to do sex films,” I responded, shocked and angry.

“You’re also broke and I have bought up your debts,” he said. “Now those children need their expensive school bills paid and you don’t want to lose that nice home in Mid-Levels. Let us talk about it.”

I sat stunned as he outlined his plans. Three films and a centerfold in Asian Penthouse. Promotional travel around Asia, Europe and America to visit the Chinese communities. I knew that would involve having to open my legs and whore, although he skated around that. My heart was beating fast.

“You will clear your debts quickly. There is no other way to earn money with your, shall we say, skills.”

I thought of my children. What their reaction would be.

“I can’t, My children…”

“They are in England,” he replied.

“They’ll slot oyna find out. The papers will be full of it,” I argued.

“Well, it’s up to you. I see little other alternative. Let me know in a week,” said Leung.

My stomach was churning and I didn’t feel well as I was having my period. Back home there were more unpleasant surprises. I had a visit from a couple of nasty looking men – obviously triads.

“You owe money,” said one leering at me. “You don’t pay and things can get bad. Perhaps I can get you job in Mongkok.”

He meant a brothel. I slammed the door as they laughed. I knew Leung had been behind this to put the frighteners on me.

I had to make a decision. I couldn’t sleep with the worry. My only asset was my body. I didn’t want to do this but there was no alternative. I rang Leung.

“Good, good, Come tomorrow. Dress up nicely as there will be a gentleman here who is involved in this venture,” he said

So this is it, I thought looking into the dressing room mirror. I was to put myself on sale to be used again as a whore. There was no other way to describe it. I had a large collection of designer clothes, expensive shoes and handbags. I’d sold a large part of my jewellry, but my dresses would be the last to go. I choose a white Shanghai Tang mini-dress cut low with matching tights and stilettos. It was perhaps a bit young for me but I still had the figure, having kept my weight near what it was as a young girl.

The births had widened my hips a little and boosted my bust, which was 35 inches and still firm. I had large breasts for a Chinese, which had attracted the eyes of men since I was a teenager. I put on a wired bra to push them up. My legs were also a good feature and had kept their shape. I applied more make up than usual, putting on lip gloss over the thick red lipstick. I hadn’t dressed like this for years. Like any woman, I was fearful of the lines on the face that come with age but so far my skin remained smooth.

As I was finishing my daughter rang from school in England. She was 13 and the last months had been hard for her with the death of her father. Jenny was a bright child and already beginning to develop into a beautiful young woman. She looked more like me, very Chinese features, while Peter was like his father. We chatted in Cantonese. I’d made sure they’d both learned it as children, along with Mandarin.

I was glad she couldn’t see me packaged for the meeting with Leung. There was no way I could keep this secret for long from my children and it filled me with dread. I’d soon be branded a whore and that was not going to be easy for them to cope with. I’d kept the financial problems from them, not wanting to add to their worries.

A car was sent for me. I saw the driver run his eyes over me as I got in, the hem of the dress rearing up to show off my thighs as I got in. A few Chinese newspapers were on the back seat for me, left open at the entertainment pages. Leung had already started the publicity machine.

There were photos of me in my beauty queen days, wearing a bikini, and some shots of me in glamourous clothes at functions.

“Stella Ng makes come back” “Former Miss HK returning to movies.” “Rumours of sex bomb roles for Stella.” “Mother of two to appear in Penthouse.”

Leung was wasting no time priming the market. The stories had obviously come from him. They recalled my career and marriage, Tom’s recent death, rumours of my money problems.

One article read: ” Former Miss Hong Kong, Stella Ng, is relaunching her career 16 years after she left to marry and have a family. Rumours say she’ll be following in the footsteps of Carina Tse, who shocked everyone with her recent steamy movies. Her first role is said to be that of a gang bang victim. Violent sex and lots of nudity. The mother of two – who sadly recently lost her British husband – will certainly be creating a lot of interest in the months to come. And she’s to be the Miss October centre fold in Asian Penthouse magazine.”

I sighed. It was worse than I feared.

I was driven into the basement garage of Leung’s top floor Central apartment cum office and then up in the private elevator. I stepped out into the reception area and was shown to his private apartment. He was there with another man – a gwielo.

“Ah, Stella. You look very beautiful today. Allow me to introduce Doug Peters from LA, head of Penthouse operations in Asia,” said Leung.

He was a big powerfully built man in his early 40s with a handsome face. His eyes travelled over me appraisingly as he smiled and shook hands. I was given a drink and there were a few pleasantries before business got underway.

I let my skirt ride up as I sat down, not tugging at the hem. What was the point in being modest. I crossed my legs and listened to Leung.

“Well, Stella, we have three films planned. First to begin next month. In the meantime, you’ll be doing a photo shoot for Penthouse and be staying at their mansion on the Peak.”

I’d canlı casino siteleri heard about the mansion. A big former colonial home of a wealthy expat. At the end of a private road with high walls. Well away from prying eyes high above crowded Hong Kong. I’d been told that a number of women were kept there to discreetly entertain visitors and they also held parties to which only the favoured were invited.

“You’ll also be expected to attend functions to get publicity for you and the films,” said Leung.

The American spoke for the first time.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy getting back into the show biz scene. This is a big opportunity for you,” he smiled.

“I’m afraid I’m an old lady now. Hope I don’t let you down,” I replied.

“You’re a very lovely sophisticated lady and I look forward to working with you,” he smiled.

I knew he would soon want to bed me. His eyes had never left my body while we talked. It was odd after all this time to be re-entering my old life. There aren’t many 41-year old top flight whores, I thought.

We discussed the arrangements and money. The deal would wipe out my debts and put me back in credit. Of course, there would be a price to pay. This was whoring, however you wrapped it up with platitudes. They didn’t tell me then but men had already invited to enjoy me at the mansion. The financial backers of the films and others. I’d become an experienced courtesan in my younger days and would have to employ those skills again. As they say, once a whore always a whore.

I went home to pack. During my days with Leung I had always worked outside anywhere resembling a brothel. I knew that the Penthouse mansion would be just that – a cathouse for millionaires. I’d heard rumours that it attracted plenty of Cathay Pacific air hostesses eager to make money between flights or young struggling models and actresses. Some made the minor photos in the magazine. But the real attractions were those like myself, Carina Tse and other names.

I was very nervous as filled two suitcases with what I needed – as nervous as my early days as Miss Hong Kong when I’d sold myself. I was no longer a young, niave girl. Being a wife and mother had changed me. Now I was re-entering a life I’d left behind a long time ago. Could I be a sex symbol at 41, flaunting myself and being labelled an aging slut out to make money before her charms faded? The fact was I had no choice. It was this or destitution. I wasen’t going to lose my home and see my children living in poverty. If it meant whoring myself, so be it.

Doug Peters himself came to collect me in the limo. He didn’t waste any time. A few words of conversation, then his hand slid onto my thigh as we sat in the leather seats as the chauffer drove us to the mansion. I tensed as he squeezed the flesh through the tights.

“Please don’t,” I said.

“You have great legs, Stella,” he said, sliding his hand higher under the skirt.

“No. Not in the back of a car,” I replied.

“Sure, Stella,” he said, removing his hand. “You won’t have to be such a shy girl at the mansion. There’s quite a few guys in Hong Kong who’ll be visiting you. Got to be friendly to them. A few knew your late husband real well.”

“Who?” I asked.

“There’s a list but Harry McLaren is one, Graham Weeks, Freddie Green are among them, he said

These were men who had been business rivals of my husband. Real bastards. I could imagine what they wanted to do with me and then boast about it.

“Not those men. No,” I protested.

“They’ve bought into your movies. You’ve got to be nice to them. Listen Stella, let’s be frank. You’ve put out before and with Gary Leung you wouldn’t have had much choice about the guys. It’s the same now. This is business, not pleasure for you,” said Peters.

I wasn’t happy but i knew this was the deal. As a young girl, I’d had to endure men I didn’t like. Some revolted me. But a whore at any level can’t pick and choose. I’d forced myself to service whoever came along and was soon hardened to it. These men had known my husband and would obviously get a kick out of fucking the widow of an old rival. It was something I would have to stomach. Peters could see I was less than pleased.

“You’re getting a shitload of money, baby,” he said. “We ain’t forcing you into this. You done it before and it was your decision.”

I knew he was right.

“OK. We’ve got your roster worked out. There’s a party tomorrow night. Tonight you can get used to the house and we can get to know each other,” he explained.

He obviously would be in my bed that night. I learned soon enough that he screwed every woman who stayed at the mansion. Part of the perks of the job.

The mansion had been built in the 1930s. A large colonial-style building. It was hard to find somewhere in Hongkong that was secluded but its position on the Peak surrounded by high walls and trees made it perfect for Penthouse to keep its women. The entrance was guarded by several security men and the grounds were also patrolled.

“Hope you’ll be happy here,” said Peters as we drove through the gates that closed behind us.

The building had obviously been refurbished lately and the white paint reflected the strong sunlight.

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