Sam and Tilly in the Beginning

by

Caution: This True Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Lesbian, True Story, Black Female, White Female, Prostitution, .

Desc: True Story: The story is based on events of someone I know. There may be some stretching of the truth and there is a time compression issue on the account as well. Some have asked me specific questions that this addresses. It is about two women that find each other and find they need each other. There isn't much sex in this story, a little violence, but then there is a little violence in life. Meet Samantha and Tilly one a stripper and the other a plain old dirty whore.

An unforgiving summer sun beat its heat down on the city. Blistering sidewalks and streets baked those brave enough to traverse the thoroughfares on foot. The heat waves rising from the roadway made strange ripples in the view and people and buildings seemed to bend and straighten when seen through the rising air. Venturing from work Sam left the gropers, perverts, drunken businessmen, and other oglers behind her. Working in a strip club you put up with a lot of crap – but Samantha didn't stand for it was the rare stripper that didn't the protection of a bouncer.

She rode the streets on her big hog Harley and wished she hadn't worn the helmet. She wanted to feel the hot air rush over her face. She also wished she hadn't geared up for the ride. Her chaps and jacket protected her from the pavement in case of an accident but cooked her flesh like a pot roast. She traveled a route which she thought was a shortcut but when Sam spotted the parking lot strewn with bikes, pickup trucks, and luxury cars alike she just had to check out the place. Maybe she would see some lovely little girl or a good looking guy that wanted to be abused that night.

Entering the bar, her eyes struggled to adjust to the dim lighting. Even so, this atmosphere was her home. Sam worked in a place not so different to this, only she danced nude there. Holding her leather jacket in one hand and her helmet in another she sauntered up to the bar, "Barkeep, any place safe to store this stuff?"

"Yea, sure, I'll take it and keep them safe, chaps to if you want." Sam handed the man the gear then took off the chaps. He looked appreciatively at her tall, muscled body. Marveled at her tight ass covered by the thinnest of material and shortest of black shorts. He ached to see the small breasts and six pack tummy which were covered only with a black ribbed T that clung to her like a second skin. Sam aware of his rubbernecking handed him the chaps, "I don't like boys."

"What can I get you?" he ask ducking his eyes away from her. The air of danger hung thick around the woman, he had the distinct impression she could and would hurt him. While he wouldn't like, that several in the bar would love it. He shot her a tentative glance back at her piercing blue eyes.

"A draft and a shot of Jack," she drank in the atmosphere of the bar. Bikers, rednecks, and sophisticated talked in their clicks. In the corner sitting alone a young woman appeared to be chasing off one guy after guy. Petite, pretty, and dressed to the nines. It was obvious she was a whore. The men that talked to her must be unwilling meet her price. Then a well-dressed older man walked up to her and started talking. He stood there with this lusty gawking expression as he watched her. The girl, for she was barely more than that, would shake her head. Undaunted he would make a new proposal.

Slamming down the drink Sam walked back to the table. She placed the beer on the table. Gripping the man's wrist she pulled him toward her. "The lady isn't interested." He started to complain, but something about her look frightened him. Perhaps it was her cold blue eyes, or the short man's style haircut she sported, or perhaps the powerful muscles, or conceivably all of it combined to frighten him. He moved away grumbling about lesbos.

"I was in a negotiation," her anger was apparent. The black girl laid her eyes on Sam for the first time. Her heart missed a beat. All those things that frightened men attracted her. Sam sat down next to her and wrapped her arm around the smaller more feminine woman.

"Negotiations are over for the night," Sam smiled without waiting lowered her face and kissed the girl. Soft and tender their lips met. Something passed between them. When they broke apart, the younger girl sat speechless her mind whirling. Sam raised her index finger as the waitress approached then pointed her thumb to the black girl.

"Now don't you look just like ninety pounds of dynamite? I'm Samantha but I go by Sam, and you are?"

"I go by Tilly, and I'm more like black powder," she looked around the room no one gave them so much as a glance. "I appreciate the attention but I need to make some money or my Pimp will pound on me." The waitress returned with a glass of ice and a clear liquid.

"Vodka Tonic," the waitress told them she ten whispered in Sam's ear, "I think she is underage." Sam extended a ten dollar bill and told her to keep the change.

"Mind your own business," Samantha told her, she then turned her attention to Tilly. "I'll give you whatever you need to give him," Sam said rubbing the arm of the smaller woman in a tender embrace. "Even better than that I'll be your pimp and you can keep your money." Turning she took Tilly's face in her hands and again kissed her. Tilly leaned into her felt her strength. The girl warped her arms around Sam. When they, at last, broke apart she looked up at the taller, stronger, woman.

"You're big and strong, but he is bigger, stronger and meaner. It just can't be done," the dejected black girl told her. "I'll be doing what he says for a long time I think."

"Bullshit, I can take him. Why don't you finish the drink and take me to him?" it took Sam several minutes to convince her.

Wrapping her arms around the woman Tilly felt the rumbled from the powerful motor through her body. She clutched the woman struggling with a small fear that they would crash. The streets rushed by and Tilly gave instructions. The town grew more seedy the further they went. Darkness covered them in the run-down part of the city, streetlights were dim or not working at all. The windows of the houses were dark and many were abandoned left empty to fall apart from entropy.

The darkness seemed to grow as the motorcycle pulled into the drive of the derelict house. Clouds covered the half moon, the house stood as a testament of man's neglect to the ghetto of the community. Shingles were missing from the roof, which sagged in the middle, much of the siding had fallen off and some places big holes gapped through to the nasty interior. The couple entered the dwelling and moved through it to a big master bedroom.

The pimp arched his hips into the face of the girl. She gagged and spewed as she sucked him. He froze pushing her head down on his cock. He made small humps whit his hips pushing dick deeper into her mouth as he disgorged his seed. The whores watched the nightly ritual of him showing he was the boss. He forced a different girl every night to suck him off, beating them before and sometimes afterward to make a point. After he busted his nut, he became aware of Tilly standing near the doorway.

"Tilly what the fuck you bringing a john here for?" pushing the girl to the side he stood on the ratty mattress on the floor pushing his cock back in his pants he zipped. "Shit, you're a fucking girl. What you wanting to hustle for me – dike?"

"I'm going to kick your ass and take these girls from you," Sam said throwing her coat and helmet on the floor. She reached down and unsnapped the chaps then opened the buckle and let them fall to the carpet. He snickered and pushed his hand in his back pocket. He was quick to formulate his plan and shoved the brass knuckles on his hand. Keeping it behind his back he approached the woman in a cat like slowness cutting the distance between them.

"Kick my ass, take my fucking women, bull-fucking-shit!" he charged her. Sam's body twisted to the side and her knee rose to her chest she snapped her foot out hard crashing into his chest. He was lifted off his feet and flew back to the gritty mattress. In two quick bounds, Sam jumped on him. With swift hard blows, she bashed her fist to his face and nose. Then she jumped off and stood in the middle of the room.

The pimp held his nose and screamed out incoherent curses and threats at the woman. Getting up he again charged her. "Dumbshit never learn," Sam thought as he threw the punch she deflected it with ease. She turned her back to him while holding his arm. Bashing her elbow into his side several times, Sam, spun away and then pirouetted around kicking his chin. He tumbled down on his knees. Sam grabbed his scruffy hair and clutching it drug him upwards. She then threw blow after blow to his stomach and ribs followed by a straight hand blow to the back of his head.

In a heap on the floor, he struggled to catch his breath. Pushing up with his hands he rose up, Sam kicked his ribs, then again, and again. The snapping and popping sound rang out as bones broke. Standing over him as he gasped for air, Sam knew he was done, the awful sucking sounds of his pain as he tried to breathe filled Sam with joy. For good measure kicked him again hard.

"Get the fuck out of my town," she then kicked his broken ribs again. "Be gone by midnight tonight or," she lowered the register of her voice to nearly a growl, "I'll fucking kill you. You are done here you got your ass kicked by a girl."

Sam left him with one hundred dollars and his pink and purple pimpmobile. He didn't stop at an emergency room until he got to Tulsa. When the doctor asked what happened, he said he had fallen down a flight of stairs. Under his breath the doctor commented, "Stairs with a with fast fist and feet is my guess," to his nurse.

Sam told the girls they were free to work the streets and keep their money. She would keep as close an eye on them as she could but had her own job. The whores told her they would give her ten percent of their money if she would watch over them. A quick calculation told Sam she would be many dollars ahead with ten percent of fifteen whores money. She would dance part time and take care of the whores full time.

.... There is more of this story ...

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