The Life of Jacque Bonus (complete)

    I’ll admit, the prospects of all this were a bit odd. I’ve never been the most masculine guy in the room, but I’ve never been the most feminine either. As I look at myself now, I understand the possibilities that I can take with just my body.

    I had agreed to Tupac’s little deal, excited to be helping him out. I was a bit surprised when he came to me, asking me for help. I know I may have been his last resort, but it was exciting for me all the same. 

    “We’ll have to get you ready,” Tupac said as his hand stroked up my thigh. His big hands groped my ass, and I had to bite my lip to keep myself quiet.

    “Ready?” I asked. “What did you have in mind?”

    “Ever see Pretty Woman?” Tupac asked with his signature smirk. “Basically that.” His fingers squeezed more, and then he broke away from me. “I need you to look the part for tonight. A sure fire-” he sucks in a breath, “distraction.”

    The next thing I knew, I was taken to all sorts of beauty treatments. I was given a manicure and a pedicure. I was then waxed from tip to toe. Save for my eyebrows and hair I was as silky and hairless as a dolphin. It was a new, strange feeling, and I really enjoyed it.

    After getting plucked, buffed, and polished I was taken for a fitting. I was shoved into a corset and then poured into a dress that was almost too tight. It showed off every curve of my body. As I posed in it, Tupac came up behind me, putting his hands around my neck and draping a necklace there.

    “You can’t get excited in this dress,” he growls into my ear, making his point moot. “Show any sign of that monster dick of yours, and we’re both goners.”

    I moan softly, fidgeting in place. “Of course,” I pant.

    “I’ll have someone do your makeup,” Tupac says, clutching my chin between his fingers. “Then, you’ll be a real treat for everyone.”

    I glance back at Tupac, rubbing my palm against the front of his pants. “And what about you?” I ask.

    Tupac grins at me. “I have my own beauty treatments to look the part, don’t worry.” He steps away from me, and I feel a bit rejected. “You just worry about your own pretty self.” His eyes then dart down, and he chews the corner of his mouth. “If that cock won’t behave,” he snarls, rubbing the tip of his finger to the tented fabric. “I’ll make it behave.” He grabs me, squeezing and making me cry out. 

    Tupac then lets me go, walking away from me and out of the store.

    That evening, a makeup artist arrives, painting me up for the night. I have to admit, I enjoy this new side of me. I’ve never really seen myself in such a light. I feel beautiful and elegant, and if I could, I would fuck myself too.

    When Tupac comes to get me, he dressed in a tux. He’s clean shaven, and his hair is tied back. He looks so hot, I have to stop myself when I imagine what a three between him, myself, and my new self would be like.

    “Don’t get fucking hot,” Tupac snarls as he grabs me. “I can’t afford it.” He pulls me in for a long, hard kiss. “I’ll cut it off.”

    I put my arms around his neck. “Keep dirty talking like that, and you’re going to have to.”

    Tupac sneers. “You better be glad you’re hot, or I would scrap all this.” He takes my hand, leading me out to the car he’s rented.

    The plan is a simple one, basic really. This really fancy dinner party is being thrown at the high-end art gallery in town. Everyone who is anyone will be there, the rich, the elite, the spoiled, and the greedy. Tupac plans to use me as a distraction. As dressed up as I am, I’m supposed to wow the crowd and keep their attention turned while Tupac disables security cameras, allowing a few of his other men to do what they did best. 

    I loved attention so this wouldn’t be so bad. As long as I did what Tupac asked and everything went smoothly, it would all be ok. I know if something screws up, I have a feeling it will all fall on my head.

    In the car, I look over at Tupac, silent and serious. I still can’t get over how good he looks in his suit. I feel pretty good in my dress. It’s low cut, showing off my new, smooth, dolphin chest. It’s highlighted with glitter and contour, making me look like I have something ample. The corset has to be cinched in and squeezed tight, making my waist look snatched and toned. 

    “So,” I murmur. “What do you think?”

    “Of what?” Tupac growls.

    I frown and look him over. “Me,” I say. “What do you think?”

    He side glances me then looks back out at the road. “Not bad,” he grumbles. “What? Is something wrong with it?”

    I look out the window, pouting. “No,” I sigh.

    “Look, I’m thinking about everything tonight ok? You want to feel pretty later, as me when it is all said and done,” Tupac snarls. “For now, just keep your head in the game. We’ve got a lot to lose tonight, and I can’t handle you being needy right now. Ok?”

    I sigh and look out the window. “Ok,” I grumble.

    Tupac pats my thigh. “Good boy.”

    I see the lights of the gallery on the horizon, and I think to myself how excited I am to show off in front of Tupac. I’m going to make sure that all eyes are on me and I am going to make Tupac notice just how very good I am.

    We walk into the gallery, arm in arm. I’m pissed at Tupac and looking for my first chance to show off my goods. Tupac points and I follow his arm. 

    “They have guards posted at every door,” he says. “There’s also one just before the security room. I need you to focus on him first so I can get in there and disable the cameras. He takes a champagne flute and puts it in my hands.

    “You got that?” Tupac asks.

    I curl my lip at him as I take the glass. “I got it,” I say as I take a sip.

    Tupac slaps my ass. “Do me proud, and I’ll reward you.”

    “You better,” I huff, sauntering out into the crowd ahead of him.

    I take my time, admiring the art and sampling the food that’s being offered. I approach my first guard and stand near him.

    “Am I the only one who is bored here?” I ask him.

    The guard is silent.

    I look up at him and giggle. “Oh come on, you know what I mean,” I bump my hip inside his. “There’s better things to do than stare at hoity-toity refrigerator art.”

    The guard snickers and turns his head away.

    I put my hand on his arm. “Big boy ain’t ya?” I squeeze his bicep. “Are you uhm...big everywhere?” I wink at him.

    “You best fuck off,” the guard growls at me.

    I lick my lips. “I’d rather fuck you off,” I laugh. “Or am I being too subtle?” I smirk at him. I see Tupac standing nearby, he’s giving me the stink eye. I need to turn the guard enough so Tupac can slip behind him and get to the security room.

    I bite my lip and move my hand along the guard’s chest. “Want me to be more descriptive, big guy?” I purr. “Want me to tell you how I want you to take your big, fat, meaty cock and use my tight, little, asshole?” I mewl. 

    My hand pets down, finding a nice bulge waiting on me.

    The guard puts his hands on me, moving me and finally turning his back to Tupac. I grin, watching as Tupac slips away unnoticed.

    “You need to shut up,” the guard tells me, breathless and red-faced.

    I look around. “I’ll only shut up if you put your cock in my mouth,” I sneer. “Other than that, I’m going to keep talking and talking until your cock is rock hard.”

    I know I have to keep this guard busy until Tupac gets out of the room.

    The guard smirks at me. “I don’t get off until midnight.”

    I bite back a grin. “Then point me to one of your coworkers who gets off before then,” I tease. “Because you’ve got me wanting a good cock something awful.” I poke his chest and giggle.

    The guard looks around then back at me. “I get a break in twenty.” He growls. He puts his hand around my waist, and his fingers then pet down to my ass.

    I’m screwed, this guy is getting me pretty turned on. Tupac better hurry his ass up.

    “I can move it up,” the guards snarls and my heart skips a beat. The guard rubs his thumb against my painted lips. “I’d love to see a ring of that ruby red lipstick around my cock.”

    I grin wickedly. Tupac slips from the security room and gives me a nod. I suck on the guard’s thumb and look up at him.

    “Bathroom,” I pant. “In five.” I step away from him, seeing the shocked look on Tupac’s face before I turn away.

    I got into the bathroom, reapplying my lipstick as I wait on the guard. I primp and preen in the mirror until the door opens. I turn, seeing the big, mean-looking guard come in. I grin at him.

    “About damn time,” I say. “Now, drop your pants.”

    The guard chuckles. “I never have any luck at events like these,” he says, undoing his buckle and dropping his pants to the ground.

    I smirk and kneel before him, stroking his beer can of a cock. “If you’re lucky every time, then it isn’t luck.” I lick his shaft, looking up and meeting his eyes. I fondle his balls and chuckle to myself.

    “Heavy sack you’re dragging there,” I suck on them and listen to the guard growl.

    “Just waiting to unload it in you,” the guard laughs.

    I take his cock in my mouth. It’s a tight fit, but I’m able to get him to my throat. I suck him slowly, rubbing my tongue along him. He grabs the back of my head and starts to use me. He makes me his personal toy, thrusting his hips until his cock goes down my throat. I’m used to such treatment, but he’s a little rough.

    “Hey dude, you want some too?” I hear the guard say.

    I look up and see Tupac has walked into the bathroom.

    “I’ll get mine,” Tupac growls as he lights up a cigarette. “You go ahead. Keep at it.” He stands back, leaning against the wall and smoking as the guard continues his rough handling. 

    Soon, his cum is pouring down my throat, and I am gagging and coughing. He pulls away and tugs up his pants.

    “Thanks a lot,” he laughs. “I need that.” He zips up and leaves the bathroom.

    I cough and sputter, catching my breath and looking up at Tupac as he comes near me. I scowl at him and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. My red lipstick is smeared on my skin, and I know my makeup must be running from how hard that guy face fucked me.

    “What?” I ask. “I did what you asked me.”

    Tupac grabs me, pulling me up off the ground. “I didn’t tell you to let him fuck you,” he snarls into my ear as he puts a hand around my throat.

    “I put my own spin on it,” I huff. 

    Tupac pushes me against the bathroom wall, his hand still around my throat. “Did you like him?” He asks. He shoves his hand under my skirt, feeling up under my dress. “You fucking pervert,” he snarls as he grabs my cock. “You’re not even wearing underwear.”

    “Easier access,” I growl as I put my arms around him.

    Tupac tugs my cock and squeezes it hard. “Were you planning on fucking everyone you met tonight?”

    “Maybe,” I snarl. “Get my dick wet, get my ass fucked,” I huff. “Like you would care.”

    Tupac grabs my hands and forces me around. He pins my chest against the wall and holds my wrists in one hand. He moves my skirt, nearly ripping it. With his free hand, he gropes my rear. He digs his fingers in hard, almost hurting me. It only turns me on though.

    “Fuck you, Jacque,” he snarls into my ear.

    “Then do it,” I snarl back at him.

    He shoves me harder against the wall, and I feel his fingers between my cheeks. I grunt and try to struggle, but it’s weak at best. We both know this is what I wanted all along.

    He takes his hand, licking his fingers and then eases one inside me. I gasp and pant, feeling him inside me, even like this, feel so good.

    “You’re such a fucking slut,” Tupac huffs. “Did dressing up like this make it worse?” He starts to move his hand. My legs begin to shudder and tremble.

    “I remember that first night,” he laughs. “Catch you on my bed.” He bites my neck and take a deep breath. “That’s when I realized I can do anything I wanted to you.”

    Tupac takes my hands and places them on the wall. I know if I move them I’ll regret it. He then grabs both hands, one touching my hip while the smears spit over his cock. My knees are starting to feel weak as I wait for him.

    I gasp in excitement as I feel his cock rub between my cheeks. I let out a moan as he opens me. I stretch to take him, and I finally get what I wanted all along.

    “Finally,” I moan.

    “Finally?” Tupac laughs. He slaps my ass, and I whine. “I knew it,” he snarls as he pushes in deep. “I knew you were doing that to just piss me off.” He grinds himself inside me. “Just like a whore.”

    I cry out as he strikes my ass again. My knees tremble, and I worry that I’m going to fall in the high heels I’m wearing.

    Tupac makes me straighten out, and he makes me keep my hands flush to the wall. “Stay like this,” he snarls. “Oh fuck,” he growls. “Damn your fucking ass,” he pants.

    I coke back a moan and glance back at him. “Do you like it?”

    “Of course I fucking do.” He digs his fingers into my thighs and rear, grabbing me and thrusting himself harder. “This belongs to me.”

    I whimper, pressing my cheek against the wall.

    Tupac then reaches around, wrapping his fingers around my cock and stroking it. I cry out, and my knees buckle.

    Tupac laughs as he holds me aloft. “Pathetic.” He lays me over the sink and then lifts my head, so I see myself in the mirror. “What do you see?” He growls. “Do you still feel beautiful?”

    I lick my lips and grin. “I’m fucking hot.”

    Tupac snarls and starts to move again. He strokes my cock, and I can feel the world spinning. Everything feels hot and good. Soon, I’m cumming in Tupac’s hand, drenching his fingers and palm.

    Tupac then fills me, gasping and panting as his cock twitches.

    “Oh my god,” I hear a whisper.

    We both turn and a see a man standing in the door. He’s caught somewhere between heaven and hell, frozen in horror but obviously intrigued by what he sees.

    Tupac pants and snarls, his lip curls as he stands erect. He slap my ass. “This toilet is out of order,” he snarls. “Get the fuck out.”

    The man jumps and runs out the door.

    Tupac washes his hands then uses a paper towel to mop me up. He fixes my dress then tucks himself back into his tux.

    “Clean yourself up,” he sighs as he looks at himself in the mirror. “Then come back out. Keep up the good work.” he strides from the bathroom.

    I stand up, legs like jelly, back a little sore, and still bathing in the afterglow. I look at myself in the mirror, surprised my makeup isn’t as bad as I expected.

    “Holy shit,” I murmur. “She was totally right about the setting spray.” I clean up a bit of the runny mascara and put on a fresh coat of red lipstick. I pose and preen for a bit then give myself a great big smile.

    “Yeah,” I wink. “Still not bad.”

    I turn just as the door opens, seeing another guy walk in. “Oh uh-” he fidgets with his glasses. “Am I in the wrong bathroom?” He asks, his voice squeaking.

    I smirk. “No.” I walk out, seeing Tupac in the crowd talking with one of his other mates. I walk off, going to find myself something to drink and eat to get the cock taste out of my mouth. By the end of the evening, Tupac and his crew will have gotten enough money to live easy for a bit or fund another scheme. They’ve stolen watches, jewelry, wallets, even name brand coats from the coat check.

    Tupac hands me one of the coats, a beautiful blue suede Armani number. “This suits you,” is all Tupac tells me.

    I’m touched, he could have sold it, but instead, he gave it to me. It wasn’t until many years later I was informed my special and luxurious Armani coat was a knock-off. It was a blow to my pride, but at the same time, even if the coat wasn’t name brand, it was extremely on brand for Tupac. Momolady.