Pet's First Night Out Ch. 01

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Author's Note: There are a few Spanish words sprinkled here and there, most are easily understood in context or defined in-text. If you're curious about exact translations, check out the list at the end of the story.

This is my first foray into this genre. Comments and suggestions most welcome! Please be kind, especially if it's not your cup of tea. Thank you!

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Solana couldn't believe where she was, who she was with, or what she was about to do with him. Here again, in Mexico City, one of the dirtiest, darkest, and sexiest cities in the world, with Carlos, one of the dirtiest, darkest, and sexiest people she'd ever met.

He wasn't a large man, and entirely bald, but he had thick, soft lips, piercing brown eyes, and a confident, powerful demeanor tinged with an aura of Latin caretaking that Solana found irresistible. She -- petite, brunette, American, naive -- had come all this way at Carlos's command, another paid holiday in Mexico after randomly meeting in Cabo San Lucas.

Each week they spent together here and there when he sent for her was more and more enjoyable -- Carlos dressing her in tight clothing, complimenting her, wining and dining her, allowing her to live a spoiled life of luxury.

Giving her orgasm after orgasm from his mouth, his fingers, his thick cock, even, it felt like, just his words.

He coaxed confessions of sexual fantasies out of her, things that made her blush with shame, things she made him promise never to repeat. Things that seemed to please Carlos more and more, when she whispered what she dreamed of with her face held into the pillow and his thumb in her ass.

And so she'd returned to visit him again, this time to go to a "special nightclub," he'd said.

And Carlos was leading her by a thin gold filament, nearly invisible, wrapping around her waist in a loop, one end a small gold circle that passed through a larger one, like a choke-chain, the final ring held the crook of one of Carlos's thick fingers. He could lead her easily this way, but gently, glamorously. Shimmering.

They walked up to the door of the club, and Carlos hesitated before opening the door, turning around to hold Solana by shoulder.

"If there's something you don't want, mi amor, you can give me the sign, but you must promise to try to remember what you're here for, ¿vale? I want you to try to be good for me, OK, gringa mia?"

Carlos looked into her eyes and held her gaze, expressing his wishes, these orders, like electricity. She nodded her head, just slightly, in wide-eyed, nervous assent. She saw a brief darkness pass like clouds across eyes as he added,

"I know you don't want to disappoint me, do you, perrita?"

Not only didn't Solana want to disappoint Carlos, she was almost a little afraid of doing so. Still, she knew Carlos wouldn't let her get into too much trouble, much less hurt. She was his little treasure, his exotic prize, his trophy from the north, right? He just wanted to show her off, share how proud he was... right?

As the two walked in, Solana suddenly felt self-conscious. She wasn't even sure at what kind of club or party they had arrived, but she knew she didn't fit in.

There seemed to be many couples here, drinking, talking, almost all mostly attractive and well-groomed, the women with dark eyes ringed with kohl, jet black hair in slinky ponytails and bouffants and, to a one, very, very high heels. There were also more than just a few slightly-sleazy-looking single Latin men, complete with gold chains, bloodshot eyes and slicked-back hair. Solana felt a chill, hoping Carlos wouldn't leave her alone with one of those losers.

"Let me get you a drink, pet," Carlos said, turning to her. "A vodka, yes?"

Solana thanked him with her eyes, and as she opened her mouth to elaborate, Carlos quickly put a finger to her lips. "Shhhh, gatita. No speaking. I already know what you want."

He leaned in, and, closing his eyes, took her lower lip between his teeth. Slowly, softly, he began to suck, pulling it away from her face both firmly and tenderly, ending with a soft snap as he released it and looked back into her eyes.

"Espéra aqui. No te mueves. No hables. Con nadie. ¿Me entienedes?" Wait here. Don't move. Don't talk. With anybody. Understand?

Solana nodded again.

"Beuno, brasas a la espalda." Good. Hands at your back .

Obeying without protest, Solana dutifully clasped her hands behind her, and leaned slightly back against the pillar for support. Unblinking and unsure, she watched Carlos walk away from her and toward the bar. She had been left, all alone! She counted on him coming back, but still, could not be sure. She felt scared and remarkably out of place, but still, dared not move from her position at this pillar.

Finally, she snapped out of her slight stupor. Blinking and looking around, she was quickly approached by a dark-skinned man, handsome and well-groomed, not too tall but not neither very short, neither thin nor fat, with a slight 5-o'clock shadow. He was wearing a white button-down shirt with what looked like expensive cufflinks. He drank from a green-tinted bottle of beer, and looked her up and down, sucking air in through his teeth with a vulgar sound as he appeared to be examining her.

"Hola, mami," he sad, and continued on in Spanish. "Are you here all by yourself?"

Solana understood him well enough, but knew she must not speak. As much as it went against her nature to stay silent, she simply shook her head, "No," holding his gaze for a brief second, before, wondering if gestures and eye contact violated Carlos's "rules", just as fast averted her eyes and looked back down towards the floor.

"Ah, no?" the man asked, sipping from his bottle once again, leaning against the wall with one arm up against it, alongside her, moving in closer. "Who are you here with? Your boyfriend?"

Without looking up, Solana made a small motion with her chin toward the bar, her gaze just barely leaving the floor. The man turned around to look, then returned back to Solana.

"Ah. Carlos? And he left you, here? All alone? ¿Eh, mamí?"

Solana nodded, never bringing her eyes up, her fingers nervously tapping the wall behind her. The man took his beer bottle and slowly ran it down the side of her face.

"Such a pretty girl, all alone, in a place like this," he cooed, both sweet and menacing, moving the bottle down her neck, dripping the condensation down, down her neck, then along her exposed chest toward her cleavage.

"What a shame, mamí... For him!"

Solana swallowed, trying her hardest not to tremble.

At that moment, she heard Carlos's voice, as he approached with the drinks.

"Hola, güey," he said in Spanish, "you like my girl?"

"Oh, yeah, hombre," the man replied, pulling back slightly and looking his way, "niiiiiice girl. Interesting look, nice tits. I think there's something wrong with her, though, amigo. What, she doesn't talk?"

The dark man took another sip of his beer, never moving from Solana's side.

"Haha," replied Carlos, confidently. "Something like that."

Solana still stood against the wall, frozen. The two men started talking quickly in Spanish, so fast that she couldn't really follow the conversation. She could pick out only a few words here and there: "look," "touch," "free," "first," "maybe later," "how much," "how long," "when."

They finished their discussion with a handshake. Carlos turned to Solana, tenderly touching her hair, and put the straw of her fresh vodka cocktail, fetched just for her, up to her lips.

"Don't worry, gatita. Horacio here just wants to admire your pretty figure. I'm here. But," he emphasized, "no talking. No moving. ¿Vale?" OK?

Solana nodded.

"You understand?"

She nodded again, quickly. He brought the fresh cocktail up toward her face in reward.

"Sip this, amor."

She took the straw in her lips and sipped at the drink, amazed at how, after having met so few times, Carlos took such good care of her. The fiery familiarity of the vodka comforted her and the sweetness of the fresh pineapple relaxed her, as did Carlos's hand stroking her hair as he held the drink for her. She felt so odd, so exposed, so afraid, yet somehow cared for and cherished, prized, even, at the same time. It was a feeling of being special in a way she'd never experienced before. She couldn't quite make sense of it all.

Carlos nodded at Horacio. "Go ahead," he said in Spanish. "Oyé. Only what we agreed upon."

And with that, Horacio turned back toward Solana. With Carlos simply standing by her side, his hand gently on the back of her head, Horacio began to unbutton the top of Solana's dress. Solana instinctively took a small step back even closer to the wall, but Carlos's hand dug into her hair, keeping her in her spot as she stumbled momentarily.

"Shhhhh," he whispered to her. Solana swallowed. Horacio also pushed on her chest to keep her steady. What the fuck was happening?

Horacio looked at Carlos, who nodded an additional affirmation, and Horacio returned to the job at hand. Never letting go of his beer bottle, he used it along with his other hand to lower Solana's dress past her shoulders, bringing the material down further and further, finally exposing her breasts. Solana's heart began to race, her bosom heaving slightly, nipples erect in the cold, nightclub air.

This stranger, Horacio, then ran the bottom of the beer bottle over her small, firm breasts, pushing them up and down slightly, and she shuddered involuntarily from the cold and the stimulation.

"Mmmm," Horacio commented, "nice, good." He began kneading one with his dark, elegant hand. "Firm, like I thought."

Solana was on the brink of panic. She felt less and less like a person and more like a toy, and object of negotiation. She tried to turn her head toward Carlos, but his hand on the back of her neck controlled her firmly, keeping her head forward. "Shhh, amor. No te mueves." Don't move.

He then addressed Horacio. "So you like it?"

"Mmm, yeah, hombre. It's good, real nice."

"Go ahead, see what else there is."

Horacio kept one hand on her breast, and, with two fingers still around the neck of the bottle, grabbed the hem of her dress in his hand. Crumpling it and bringing it up to her hip, he used the rest of his hand to palm the exposed cheek of her ass, cleft by a tiny red g-string.

"Oh, wow, now that is nice, hombre."

Cesar laughed. "Haha, yes it is, right?"

"Mmmm-hmmm," Horacio agreed.

Solana blushed and clenched her eyes closed. She tried not to show that she was beginning to tremble, and even, to pant, ever so slightly. Her thoughts were racing. She was oh so uncomfortable with this stranger beside her, groping her. But Carlos was right next to her, in control of everything. She could trust him, yes? She knew better than to disappoint him. She settled back in, bringing her attention back out of her mind and into what was unfolding right in front of her, to her...

Horacio was squeezing her hip with his hand, and, bringing it around to the front, moved his thumb underneath the sheer, lacy, tiny triangle of fabric. He began running his thumb along her barely-covered slit. Solana shuddered, imperceptibly.

Horacio continued this exploration, the rough skin of his thumb at first tickling, the pressure slowly becoming firmer and firmer until he had parted her lips. He finally dipped the thumb into her wetness, and bringing it back up, just slightly, ran his thumb between he outer and inner lips, first on one side, then the next, repeating this motion. Solana tried not to move, or respond in any way at all; Carlos's hand remained always with a firm grip on her hair in case she did.

"Nice, receptive," Horacio commented, wiping some of her juices onto and around her.

He squeezed the inner flesh of her thigh, once, and hard, before stepping back and looking at Carlos.

"I like her," he said. "Is she sweet?", he asked, along with a long rattle of something Solana couldn't understand.

Solana watched along as Carlos nodded, said, "Of course, but sweeter with some pineapple," and pulled the small, triangular wedge out of her cocktail and handed it over to Horacio.

She saw a look pass between the two men, and was suddenly dumbstruck. Carlos, still at her side, moved his hand from the back of her head past her back and around her shoulder to her face, and cupped her jaw, forcing her head up in the air.

"Spread your legs wider for the nice man, pet," he commanded.

Solana was finding it hard to breathe with her face pointed toward the ceiling. She blinked at the bright lights, and, stumbling on her heels, moved her legs farther apart in a split-legged stance, forcing her skirt to ride even higher on her hips. Here she was, against a dark wall, in a public nightclub, breasts glistening and exposed, dress hiked up, a red g-string pushed all the way to the side, leaving her entire pussy on display, with two men seemingly totally controlling her every move, without, really any protest at all from her -- and nobody seeming to notice. She began to whimper.

But now, Carlos's grip forcing her to look upward, though remaining gentle, was relentless. She couldn't even make eye contact with passers-by even if she wanted to. She began to panic as Horacio drew nearer, but Carlos kept her from squirming too much, and seemed to laugh at her helpless mews.

"Shhhh, kitten. We're just playing, all of us here, right, amor....?"

Solana felt a sticky wetness on her inner thigh. Horacio was dragging the pineapple slice slowly, ever so slowly, up her leg, designing trails with the sweet and sour fruit, first on one side, back around toward her ass, down the other, back toward the back. He nudged the tip of the wedge up to the entrance of her pussy, the hole itself, the acid juices teasing and burning her.

Suddenly changing tack, Horacio pressed the wedge right into up into her cunt, chuckling quietly, the yellow fruit oozing down her thighs in sticky chunks as Horacio forced it deeper and deeper into her. Carlos kept her body from rising up with the force, and Horacio pushed steadily upward until it felt like the rind was practically flush with the bottom of her body.

Solana's sounds became louder, unsure of exactly what was happening, and which emotion to respond to -- a mixture of humiliation, fear and pure physical sensation. Horacio began to mash the fruit all along her pussy, up and down, rubbing her clit, mashing it into her lips and around to her ass crack, all the while chuckling slightly.

"Ay, mamí, you're going to taste so sweet," he mumbled as he rubbed all over her with the quickly dissolving fruit.

Soon there was nothing left of the pineapple wedge but the rind. Horacio dropped to his knees, and began to slowly fuck the immobilized girl with the hard-edged, slightly rounded arc of the dissolved fruit. At the same time, he massaged around her clit and labia with two fingers.

"Heh heh heh," Horacio chuckled, then called out to someone.

Solana still couldn't see what was happening, only feel, and hear the occasional "Shhh, pet," from Carlow. But she sensed the presence of someone else, and gasped when she felt another two hands on her thighs and more hot breath near her sticky, degraded pussy.

"Eat it, man," Horacio said, and Solana gasped when she felt a man's tongue, two men's tongues, lapping at her, eating the fruit off her lips, fucking her with them, commenting, laughing, while she stood under Carlos's complete control.

"Wait, wait," Carlos suddenly said, "before you finish it, let's get another opinion."

He rattled off something to Carlos, who then said to Solana, "OK, pet, I'm going to pick you up, and show you off. The just want to admire their handiwork, OK, pet? I'm sure you look beautiful. And you want to make me happy, mmmm, pet?"

Solana felt she'd lost some sort of battle. She did want to please him, but she didn't quite understand what was happening. She could feel the engorged lips of her cunt pulsing, the mashed fruit and saliva dripping down her legs. Humiliated, she looked down, eyes wet with tears.

"Do it willingly for your papi, pet," Carlos said, nodding her head up and down a bit before letting it go so she could respond on her own. And then Solana nodded, ever so slightly.

"Oh, that's good, pet. Very good. Let me guide you," Carlos replied.

Horacio and the other stranger had gathered a small crowd of men, one of whom, she was shocked and disgusted to discover, was a heavyset, slovenly man in his late 50's, to watch them. Carlos himself then leaned against the wall, moving the petite Solana in front of him, gold chain still around her waist.

He leaned Solana's back into his front, then bent slightly at the knees, hooked his arms around Solana's legs, and stood up, strongly, pulling her legs off the ground and separating them wide for all to see. "Take a look at the merchandise, men," he said.

The crowd roared.

Solana had never felt so humiliated in her life. Here she was, in a club, held off the ground and spread wide, with mashed fruit and saliva and pussy juice covering her, her g-string wet and disgusting and torn off to the side -- all open and exposed for a crowd of strangers. She could understand only a little bit of what they were saying.

"How does she taste?"

"Sweet as a tropical fruit, hahaha!"

"Can she take your papaya, José?"

"Hahahaha, give it to her, José! The girls love José's papaya! Heheheheh!"

Solana saw someone approaching, and that he was pulling a long, shiny, orange slice of papaya out of his drink -- more like a peeled slice of melon than anything else. She began to squeal and move against Carlos's restraints, her head thrashing against his chest.

"No, no, no, no, no....!" she moaned, writhing, whimpering, "No, no more, no mas," but Carlos dug his fingers into the thighs of her flesh and reprimanded her:

"Cállate!" Be quiet! "You are here for us!"

Two more men came to either side of her, helping Carlos to hold Solana's legs, bent at the knees and spread, pussy at chest height of the crowd of men. At almost the exact same moment, she felt it: the soft squish of the overripe papaya being jammed into and around her spread-open pussy, and the men cheering wildly, like they were at a football game.

"Hooray!"

"Shove it up there!"

"Make her dirty!"

"Mash it up there!"

"Rub it, yeah!"

Solana clenched her eyes shut tight, trying as hard as she could to bury her wet cheek onto Carlos's shirt as he and the other men held her up. She felt the slice of papaya as it moved in and out of her, breaking into chunks, the fingers holding the fruit grazing her pussy lips and legs with rough fingernails.

People kept passing the men in front new pieces of soft, orange papaya that they slapped at her and mashed indiscriminately, with more and more force, more and more hands, her pussy, her thighs, her taint becoming a sticky mass of swollen wetness.

"Take it, baby!"

"Yeah, grind it all over her!"

"Shove it in her ass!"

"Yeah, yeah, get one for her ass, hahahahahaha!"

Carlos was struggling slightly under her weight, but he was strong, and had the support of the wall and the two other men. He was laughing, too, pleased and happy. A fourth man came up next to Carlos to support the girl as well, ensuring she could stay up there a little while longer.

"Do it, chicos," Carlos shouted, laughing. "She loves it in the ass!"

"Let's make this chick a REAL fruit salad!" came a cry from the crowd.