Marta Fernandez was a 22 year old, Colombian student who was able, with the help of her father, whose friend worked in the embassy in Bogotá, to get a student visa to study in the U.S. All her life she had dreamed of coming to the U.S. to study English and hopefully meet a nice American gentleman she could fall in love with and marry. The men in Colombia were all the same, a bunch of womanizers who did not know the meaning of commitment. At every opportunity they poked themselves into the nearest hole that would grant them entry. Marta wanted to meet a nice man. Age wasn't important, just someone that would respect her and love her not for her looks but for her personality. She hoped she could find someone that would appreciate her sensitivity, caring and nurturing nature and that wasn't focused on what she perceived to be shallow, her physical self. She was built like a model; all legs, a thin waist, but with large breasts. She had curly dark brown hair that cascaded a little past her shoulders and green eyes. Her father told her when she was younger that his great grandfather and mother were originally from France, and her lighter olive skin color, brown hair and green eyes were probably a reflection of her French linage. Looking at her it was hard to believe that she was Latina until she started speaking Spanish.

Marta was an only child. Her father took up dual duties as her mother and father after her mother contracted bone cancer and died when Marta was 13. He worked hard to make sure that she was able to go to the University where she studied international languages. Marta's biggest problem was her inability to pick up English. She took courses at the University and her father had spent a great deal of money on an English study guide. It not only had an excellent workbook, but also a video and audio component as well. Although Marta was able to converse using very basic sentence structure, her father knew that she would not progress past that point unless she had the opportunity to study abroad and totally immerse herself in a culture where English was the dominant and official language. Although he toyed with the idea with getting Marta a visa to study in England, he didn't want her to pick up an English accent and after living in Bogotá all their lives, he didn't want to have to live in a country where it was so cold and dreary all the time. The logical choice then was the U.S. It was basically impossible to get a visa there unless one had a connection. Through his friend he was able to get a visa for both Marta and for himself. Although she was 22, he still felt it was his responsibility to chaperone her. She was naive and although was an adult he had made it a point that she immerse herself in her studies and not social pursuits. Subsequently, she had very little contact with men and had only been on three or four dates. She had enjoyed herself, but never had felt comfortable. She always felt obligated to have fun, even though she wasn't feeling that way. Her father had always taught her to rein in her emotions and to go along with things. To not be like American women who he said were very confrontational and aggressive and didn't know how to be women. Women who wanted everything and nothing at the same time. He taught her to be sweet, kind and unthreatening; to go along with others because that way she wouldn't get into any confrontations. Because Marta genetically was already disposed to being this way, her father's style of raising her just reinforced those areas more. By the time she was 22, she was apt at playing the role of subservient. Although she questioned her father at times mentally, she went along with him because being her father, he knew best.

Six months earlier they had arrived in San Diego; a beautiful city with an incredible climate. Her father found a two-room apartment for them close to Balboa Park, one of the largest parks in the U.S. It was nice and not to far from the University. Since they couldn't afford a car, they took the bus or walked. Luckily, their apartment was within walking distance of a Ralphs, a laundry mat, and a small strip mall. The University was within walking distance, about three blocks away. Marta walked there each day back and forth mainly for exercise. Although she wasn't impressed with her looks, she, like most attractive women, still made it a point to watch what she ate and to get some kind of daily exercise in. She was proud of her flat stomach, firm legs and especially her will power. She still ate the same way she did when she lived in Colombia; mainly fruits and vegetables. She wasn't going to pollute her system with none of that fast food junk. No way in heck.

Martha studied hard and picked up the language quickly. She was proud that she was able to hold a conversation with little trouble. After they had settled in she had met a young man at school; an American man who was studying Spanish. Although Marta had been in the U.S. for almost six months, she was still impressed with American men. The way they carried themselves, their ambition, and how they embraced life. Coming from a third world country, Marta knew what poverty was, and she could not get over the richness of the United States. It was amazing the things that one could buy here. The freedoms people enjoyed. Marta didn't think that Americans realized how well they had it compared to the rest of the world.

Ken had been attending the University for about two years and his Spanish was fairly fluent. He had spent the first two years after he graduated from H.S. in Bolivia, where he had lived with a family as part of a cultural exchange program at the junior college he had been attending. As they did not know Spanish and he did not know English, he was forced to learn the language in order to survive. With the increase in the Latino population in San Diego his bilingualism often proved to be handy. He knew how to converse about most subjects on a fairly deep level, but still found himself grasping for certain words. It would probably take a while for him to automatically answer someone in Spanish instead of translating first in his head. He just needed to practice more.

Ken had seen Marta around school for the last few weeks. She was impressive; tall, curvy, perfectly proportioned. A real knock out. On once occasion he had walked by and heard her speaking in Spanish with another woman, so she must be Latina. Although she was obviously attractive, she didn't seem to know it. In fact, she seemed oblivious to the lustful stares of the other students on campus. He noticed that when she walked she kept her head down as if avoiding eye contact. Interesting. Although Ken wasn't the greatest looking guy in the world, he could be pretty charming. His major was communications and there was no doubt that he was good at conversing. Maybe this was an opportunity to test out his communication abilities and practice his Spanish at the same time.

Ken walked up purposefully towards Marta and held out his hand. He said to her in Spanish, "Hola, mi llamo Ken, de lejos pense que fuistes Salma Hayek, pero tu eres mas bonita." Marta blushed furiously, turning her face a shade of crimson. She stuttered back in English, "Oh ... h ... h ... hi..." She groaned inwardly, ashamed at her poor social skills. 'My gosh, ' she thought to herself, I can't even evoke a simple sentence in English. She cast her eyes down, feeling foolish.

Ken was surprised at how embarrassed Marta got over his introduction. He put his arm down, waiting for her to respond. He had the chance to let his eyes dance over the full mounds of her breasts, her tight stomach, and legs, before she finally looked up. Fuck was she built. He looked quickly into her eyes with a half smile. She looked back at him, not knowing what to say. Ken smiled at her fully gaining her trust. "Well," he finally said, "do you have a name?" Marta laughed nervously, "of course ... my name is Marta." After a few minutes of small talk, he asked her if she wanted to have lunch.

Even though Marta did not find Ken the least bit attractive, there was something very becoming about him. He conducted himself like a gentleman, never looking away from her eyes when addressing her. He thought he would at least let his eyes dart down to scan her bosom, but he remained a gentleman throughout their conversation.

"Sure, lunch sounds fun," Marta replied, "what are you in the mood for?" Ken stealthy slid his arm around her slip waist. Marta initially balked and pulled away, but Ken maintained the steady pressure around her waist, drawing her towards him as they walked. He stated easily, "I'm having a Big Mac attack. Why don't we just get something at McDonalds and then ... I don't know ... go for a walk or something." Marta made a face. "Yuck! You don't actually eat that stuff do you?" "Sure", he said, feigning offense, "it's good food." "Of course not all the time" he added quickly, quickly analyzing that Marta wasn't a junk food eater. He subtly tightened his arm around Marta's waist. She found herself troubled not just at the thought of Ken's arm around her in an overprotective way, but at the thought of eating a hamburger. It was gross. Yet, what really was the big deal? So this guy she barely knew had his arm around her in a possessive manner. Actually it was nice to have somebody interested in her. It's not like he was groping her butt or something. And she didn't have to eat a hamburger. She had seen the commercial announcing that McDonalds was now serving salads. She could eat one of those. She knew how to be flexible and accommodating.

"All right," Marta capitulated, "let's get to McDonalds."

Ken, opened the door of the McDonalds and motioned Marta to go first. She had on a short denim skirt and a tight white top with a parade of red stars running across the front. He looked her over as she walked by him. He could feel his breath catch as he got a good look at her ass as they walked to the counter. By the looks he picked up from some of the other restaurant patrons, he knew they were thinking the same thing. What a fucking dreamboat. She was better looking than those so called super models that he saw on MTV trying to be something other than a mannequin.

Marta skirt was slit up the side almost to the middle of her thighs. As she walked, the scissor like action of her legs, caused the material to move back and forth, giving Ken and everyone else following Marta's movements intermittent glances at the hard, but yielding thighs. The sleek muscles below, undulating sensually with each step. As Marta stepped up to the counter, she unconsciously stepped up on the balls of her feet, to look at the menu above, making her perfectly round, sculpted ass press against the thin denim. Ken almost croaked as Marta's panties showed through in clear outline.

The pimply faced Asian kid at the counter reacted in a similar way. Before he could say the usual, "What would you like to order" he was made mute, like Saul on the way to Damascus, by the young woman before him who stretched forward to read the menu. Ignorant to the effect she was having on the people around her. His eyelids popped open like a pair of headlight on high beam. Marta breasts pressed forward forcefully, filling out her top. Accentuating the hard roundness of her breasts. Marta scanned the menu, oblivious to the dirty thoughts running through the minds of Ken and the boy at the counter.

"Hummm ... well ... I guess I'll have a salad" Marta said to the awestruck boy across the counter whose mind was going a mile a minute thinking of all the delectable, sexual, things he would like to do to the naive beauty in front of him. Ken cut in, "Come on Marta, you told me we were going to share a hamburger." His manner was easy enough, but Marta could sense he was irritated. His eyes were flat, like flint, Caught off guard, Mara stammered, "Uh ... yes ... right ... I'll have a hamburger too." She looked down at the counter submissively. The Asian boy and Ken exchanged a glance. Ken winked at him. The Asian boy looked at Marta who was staring down at the counter, humiliated and embarrassed at being reprimanded in front of the pimply faced boy across the counter, his eyes dancing from one prominent breast to the other. His young cock, thickened and lengthened as he enveloped the beautiful woman in front of him, the pressure causing a slight ache of need in the pit of his stomach. He ground his cock into the counter. A lustful hollowness filled his belly. Ken casually took out an old receipt out of his wallet, and wrote something on the back casually handing it to the boy. He looked at what Ken wrote and hurriedly stuffed it into the front pocket of his polyester uniform. Before leaving to their table, Ken looked at the boys nametag. "Thanks Choi for the service," he said cheerfully as he gripped Marta by her arm and purposefully strode to the back of the restaurant. "See you later." "What do you mean "See you later" Marta asked, perplexed at the comment.

Mark said easily, "Nothing important. Just eat your hamburger, O.K.?"

Marta could feel herself blazing with embarrassment as Ken strode with her into a booth and softly by insistently pushed her to the inside of the booth. She felt shamed and humiliated, yet lacked the conviction to say or do something. She felt like a little girl. A little girl who was at the mercy of her daddy and by virtue of his position of authority to completely obey. She hated what she felt. Yet, part of her needed the discipline. To be told what to do, how to act. That's the way she was raised. To obey authority. To obey the strong. To submit to dominion.

A weird thought fleetingly crossed her mind. 'I'm nothing. Just a stupid ... cunt' She shook her head aggressively. That was one of the baddest words in the English vocabulary. Why did she say it? Her thought leaving a shiver in it's wake. A foreboding 'Where did that come from?' she asked herself. Subconsciously she squeezed her firm thighs together. Vaguely aware of a warmness that coursed through her body like a mist you would see in the early morning in the midst of a tropical jungle. She grew aware that a light sheen of perspiration blanketed her soft skin and that she was aroused. She softly bit her bottom lip as her body let loose a flow of adrenaline. What was wrong with her? What she was feeling was crazy! Martha tried to block out her body's response, but could not control the pathology of her body.

She could sense the outer lips of her vagina swelling, beginning to secrete fluids that flowed outwards, moistening her thin cotton panties. She looked up to see Ken watching her intently. A sardonic smile splayed on his face. She crushed a napkin in her hand as if by crushing it, she could disperse the demon of lust that she could feel within her pulsing in her veins. What she was feeling was crazy, absolutely crazy. She looked down at the hamburger that Ken had put in front of her. She looked away in revulsion. She hated meat. Always had and always will. She was not going to eat a dead animal; even a cooked one. 'No way, ' she said to herself, "no way in the world."

Ken turned toward Marta staring at her. He looked at her intently as different emotions crossed her face; fear, humiliation, shame, anger. He saw her crush the napkin in her small hand. The defiant gesture an exclamation of her inability to stop what was happening to her.

"Look at me Marta." Marta lowered her head. "Look at me. Look at me you stupid cunt." Ken hissed when she disobeyed his order. Marta looked up again; her eyes moist from the tears that were gathering at the corners of her eyes. Why was she letting herself be treated like this? Why? At the same time she grew more aware of her body. The simmering heat that seemed to pulse within her with every intake of breath. She felt disconnected; as if she was floating above herself, and watching the whole episode in slow motion. She felt a ball of anxiety loll through her gut leaving her faint. Her breasts felt so heavy, so confined, as if they were trapped behind the material of her bra. She squeezed her thighs tightly together. She could feel the nectar of her vagina that was flowing out of her, coating her soft thighs, soaking her panties; the soft petal folds at the hole of her cunt expanding and contracting bringing forth more of her fluid.

Ken lowered his head, his eyes radiating an intensity that would not be denied. "Eat your fucking hamburger - now!" he hissed when Marta stared back stupidly at him. Robotically she picked up the hamburger; the scent of the meat making her sick. She looked at it with displeasure. She desperately wanted to throw it, anywhere, just so she wouldn't have to smell it any more. "Good," Ken said a little more gently, "Now put the hamburger in your stupid cunt mouth." His voice rose slightly towards the end of his sentence. As Marta bit down on the burger, she could feel her nipples pop out in arousal. The hard, rubber nubs, poking out of her areoles like overheated pencil erasers. As Marta started to chew the burger she could feel bile rise up from her stomach. The gastric juices heaving with protest. She felt physically sick. Yet, there was an almost maddening itch emanating from her vagina. The soft curls of her pubic hair prickling with an almost electrical charge as the lips of her vagina parted wetly.

She continued to chew and swallow the hamburger robotically as she looked down at the table; a flood of disgust that washed through her at every piece of the vile meat that she forced down her throat. That not even the Coke she would sip intermittently could entirely cast away. As she swallowed the sense of being stripped of her mind and will made her shudder as she forcibly ground her thighs together causing her stiff clit to tingle with pleasure.

Ken watched Marta eat the hamburger with distain and disgust. She would occasionally glance at him, but quickly looked back at the table. She couldn't stand what she saw reflected in his eyes. That ... knowing feeling. Knowing he was in complete control of her. It made her want to cry, scream, squeeze her breasts and pull hard at her stiff nipples at the same time. Ken looked over to the cash register and saw Choi silently smiling. Even at his young inexperienced age he could understand what was going on. His eyes glazed like a pair of fresh baked donuts. As Martha took the last bite of her hamburger, she hurriedly wiped her mouth with a napkin as if the gesture would somehow disinfect the sense of dirtiness that she felt clogging her pores.

She barely finished when Ken bit off, "Get your shit. Come on let's go." Ken spoke to her loudly and a many of the patrons in the restaurant turned around to look at them. Martha felt her face flame red with humiliation. Choi watched silently, his gaze glued to the undulating round ass of Martha as she was hurried out of the restaurant; Ken's talon like grip on her wrist making her wince.

Marta found herself standing silently in Ken's apartment. He told her to just stand there; to shut her mouth and not say a single word. She trembled and shuddered. Her legs were starting to ache. Yet, barely below the surface of her misery she could feel something else. A buzz, a current of soft prickly light that bathed her in its insidious glow. That seemed to be pulsing softly and rhythmically in her vagina and the tips of her breasts. Swelling her areoles peaked with the stiff nubs of her nipples. The feeling combined with her discomfort was maddening.

Ken had insisted, no commanded, would be a better term, for her to come to his apartment. In a soft, apologetic voice of a spanked child she pathetically told him that she couldn't. That she had to get home. That she had to get home so her father wouldn't worry about her. She was a grown woman, an adult, but he refused to listen. He just ignored her as if he was wearing big, invisible earplugs that could shut out anything; even the blast of an atomic bomb.

Ken sat on his sofa, taking in Marta; his eyes slowly caressing every fantastic feature of her. The slim delicate ankles, the firm, shapely calves, her thighs, the treasure that was hidden behind the short denim skirt she was wearing, the impossibly thin waist that flowed upward. He could imagine her naked: her tummy and torso soft to the touch. The delicate ribs. The large full bust that filled out her top. Perfect globes; big and round. His cock twitched as he imagined what they looked like behind the hidden confines of a bra.

Softly he said, "Marta, how do you feel right now? Martha felt like her mouth was stuffed with a rag. She couldn't even respond to his question. "I ... I ... I... , ugh, I'm ... I'm ... really uncomfortable and I want to come home."

"Your using the wrong word cunt," Ken said looking at her with disgust. "The correct phrasing is I want to go home." Ken continued, "Now say it again." Marta began to sob, humiliated for being called stupid." Ken sat forward on the sofa; bending slightly downward he placed his elbows on his knees and put his hands flat together as if he was going to pray. He pursed his lips together, watching her thoughtfully.

Suddenly he said, "Marta, I'd like to see what you look like with all your clothes off. Please take off her skirt, then your top, and then take off your panties and then your bra. Put them in a pile next to you and just stand there."

Marta looked at him in shock and amazement. She heard what he said, but it couldn't have been real. It had to be some kind of weird auditory, hallucination brought about by the stress she was feeling. What she was being made to endure. Marta stood still, stiff and still as a totem pole. Her arms at her sides rigidly. She tried to hold her head up, but felt like her spinal column had the strength of a wet noodle. She could not muster the strength to force her will against Kens. Marta could feel her eyes filling with tears causing Kens face to appear misty and opaque. She looked away from his eyes that had lost their spark. That were now flat and hard; deal pools of light. Her tear ducts could not handle any more of her tears and they began to cascade down her cheeks in thin rivulets. Ken said a little louder as if talking to someone retarded or hard of hearing, "Take off your clothes in the sequence of steps I told you" to which he added "You stupid, fucking, cunt." Ken's words sent a chill throughout Marta, echoing through every bone in her body.

Marta tried to muster the energy, the will to just walk out of Ken's apartment. He wasn't holding her captive. Yet, she couldn't move. She felt like a wooden dummy. An empty ventriloquist doll that could only attain animation with the help of someone with a brain. She had been staring at the ground in submission, but was drawn to look up to look into Ken's eyes that stared back at her. What she saw reflected in them circumvented any of her own needs, even her will. While she was thinking of the importance of getting out of this situation, she robotically began to take off her clothes, her little fingers clumsily opening up the buttons of her blouse and then clumsily trying to take it off, the large, fleshy mounds of her breasts, pressing into the bra tightly, as she arched her back to pull off her top. Marta face was the color of scarlet. She unhooked her skirt and let it fall to the floor, afraid of doing something wrong, displeasing Ken, and leaving herself open to his anger. She stood there trembling in her bra, panties and sandals. Her eyes wet with tears. Ken checked her over slowly. Starting at her slim, sexy ankles, to the firm calves, his eyes roving upwards to her soft thighs the thin cotton panties which Ken could see barely contained her neatly trimmed muff. He wasn't sure, but they seemed to be spotted with moisture. The soft stray public hairs poking out of her panties like curly black threads of silk. His eyes continued to roam up her firm torso, to her bra, which barely contained the firm roundness of flesh that seemed to want to escape the tight confines of the cups, holding them captive.

The entire time Marta stood motionless, like a slab of steak on a warm grill. Her feet felt like they were encased in cement. Ken told her, "I want this moment to last as long as possible. Before you go on, why don't you rub yourself? Rub your pussy through your panties. I want to watch you. I want to watch you masturbate" Marta looked back at him in confusion. Ken leaned back against the sofa. He whispered, "Go on. I know you want to touch yourself. Marta looked away from Ken's probing eyes. She stuttered, "I don't wa ... wa ... wa ... want to do this." Ken repeated himself, his voice though soft, reflected complete and total obedience. Marta stood in the same stop petrified. Fresh tears began to gather in her eyes, as she moved on of her hands over her panties. She paused in tormented conflict and then began to run her middle finger slowly up and down her panties. She discovered that the material of her panties was already moist with her secretions of arousal. As she began to move her finger, insistently back and forth, from the folds of her vagina to her hardening clitories, her panties began to get wetter and her finger was able to sink deeper into the wetness, the tip of her finger disappearing into her pussy crack. Marta began to slowly moan, from the humiliation of opening herself up like this. Like a whore. As the sensations increased Marta slightly opened her thighs giving herself greater access. She couldn't help herself. Ken watched her from the couch observing closely. His cock hardening in his pants like setting cement. Marta vagina continued to get wetter thoroughly soaking the front of her panties as she continued to rub herself, losing herself in the sensations radiating through her.

Marta fell down slowly to the floor on her knees. No longer aware of her tormentor. Lost in the bliss of lust. Without any direction or prompting from Ken, Marta pulled her panties away from her pussy with her left hand and with her right hand began to rub her clit in large circles with her fingers held close together. Ken could her the wet, sloshing sounds of Marta cunt as she dropped her fingers to the red distended cunt lips and rubbed them feverishly. She was moaning and whimpering at the blades of pleasure cut through any thought of guilt, shame, or remorse she might feel later. Ken had pulled down his pants and took off his shirt as Marta masturbated in front of him. Her body jerking reflexively to her hand, which was rubbing her clitoris with vigor and every couple of seconds, dipping lower, rubbing and pulling the swollen, nerve filled lips of her cunt lips.

"Marta, come over here." he commanded. Marta tried to climb back to her feet, swaying clumsily." "No, you stupid cunt." Ken said impatiently, "I want you to crawl over her. Crawl over here like the dog you are. You dog slut." "I'm not a slut. Don't call me names" she replied, whining like a little girl reprimanded by her daddy. Obediently she crawled over to the couch." That's good. That's a good little dog slut, said Ken. "Now, take off your panties and your bra, lay your head and arms on the sofa cushion. Then lift that awesome ass of yours in the air. Marta hesitated. The lust induced fog in her mind lifting, her lucidity returning. "What - " Ken cut her off. "I said, and am saying for the last time, take off your panties, and your bra, lay your head and arms on the sofa. Marta realized where Ken was taking the situation. He read her for what she was. A spineless, submissive. Marta could feel her cunt lips gently rubbing against each other as she shifted her weight from one knee to the other, the cunt juice oozing out of her soaked hole like warm sap. Meekly she lay her head down on the sofa cushion and put her arms on either side. Her large breasts hanging down and slightly quivering as Marta assumed position. The nipples of her breasts pressed deeply into the material of the sofa.

At that moment, there was a tentative knock on the door. "Come in" Ken yelled. Marta raised her head slightly, dizzy. She looked up through lidded eyes at the Asian boy from McDonalds walked hesitantly in clutching his hands together nervously. Ken motioned him over.

Choi walked over to the sofa and looked down at Marta's lithe form. Her perfectly sculpted round ass elevated higher than the rest of her body. His eyes scanned her smooth back which arched gracefully downward causing her ass to part giving him a birds eye view of the swollen lips of her aroused pussy which gleamed with the cunt juice she was steadily producing. The sweet, tangy nectar lubricating her. Making the swollen lips of her pussy pout outwards, petulantly. The boy's cock stiffened and lengthened as he moved in closer to Marta. The vision in front of him rendering him speechless. This was better than X box and Play Station 3 combined. Only his eyes and shallow breathing betraying the ratcheting up of sexual feeling that coursed through his veins at the sight of Marta on her knees, obediently waiting for her commands.

Marta internally jumped as she saw Choi walk into the room. She was too terrified to say something out loud. Unsure what Ken what do. What punishment he would subject her to. The boy's eyes reflected what she did not want to see. A wonderment. A knowing that the woman on her knees in front of him was going to do whatever was asked of her.

He shivered at the knowledge; vaguely aware of the kind of power he could weld over this beautiful creature before him.

He choked back a lustful sob.