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Trailer Park Trash Trixie's Turkish Torment

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Praefectus Praetorio said:
I am saddened that you jump to such a negative conclusion about the encounter. In my research, I learned the MP visited FSI numerous times and was remembered as engaging exceptionally well with the students. And it is only natural that he would be interested in a new staffer's view of Singapore prior to his RL (as reported above) trip there.

Thursday, March 6th, 2019
Trixie and Dolly sat together on the bed in Dolly’s room and quizzed each other for the Friday test in ‘Ethics for State Department Employees.’ After over an hour of intense questioning, Dolly called for an end.
“I can’t focus anymore,” she said. “If we keep this up, I’ll just space out in class tomorrow!”
“You’ve got it down, Dolly,” Trixie assured her.
"Not like you have, girl. How much have your studied this stuff? I'd swear that you've memorized the entire textbook!"
Trixie was embarrassed at the praise from her Ivy-League-Educated friend. She lowered her eyes modestly and said, "I'm just trying to keep up."

Dolly put her hand under Trixie's chin and raised her head to look into her face. "You do more than keep up, Trixie." Before she could say the rest of what she'd intended, their eyes met. Dolly almost gasped at the close-up revelation of her friend's soft, blue eyes. The blue contrasted so prettily with her fair skin, freckles, and golden, curly mane of hair. Dolly suddenly thought she had never seen anything as beautiful in her whole life. Time seemed frozen as the girls sat silently, drinking in each other's lovely faces. Then Dolly, never one to hold back or hesitate to express herself, said what she was thinking, "Trixie. You are so beautiful!"
Trixie kept looking at her friend but blushed red at the unexpected compliment. That sweet hue, added to the rest of her enticing face, pushed Dolly over the line. She leaned forward and placed her mouth gently on her friend's soft, red lips.

Trixie had come to feel a deep affection for Dolly, with her gruff, outspoken exterior that concealed a gentle and caring heart. Somehow the moment seemed right to show how she felt, and she pressed back firmly, separating her lips and slipping her tongue forward. In a few moments, the girls were holding each other tightly as their tongues toyed with each other, slurping back and forth between their warm mouths. Dolly eagerly slipped her right hand between and lovingly squeezed Trixie’s springy left tit. The redhead moaned in passion. Dolly’s fingers stroked until they captured the swollen nipple through the light covering fabric and gave a sudden pinch. Trixie gasped and drove her tongue deep into her friend's warm mouth.
It was a seamless continuation when they each began eagerly to peel the other’s clothes off. Before any thought, save lust, was given, the two were naked in each other’s arms, their bodies radiating heat.

Later, Trixie turned, brushed Dolly’s messed-up hair from her face, and said, “So. Do you think you’ll like Madrid?”
“!Me gustará mucho!” laughed Dolly.
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I love a 'springy left tit!' ... Trix seems to stumble upon the potential for lesbian sex without even trying! I find myself wondering if this was a side of her sexuality that she had explored at all before leaving the confines of the trailer park ...
 
Praefectus Praetorio said:
"Candidates. We are fortunate to have with us today a distinguished visitor. I shall not embarrass any of you who may be trying to recall his name. Meet Mike Pompeo, the Secretary of State."
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Praefectus Praetorio said:
I learned the MP visited FSI numerous times and was remembered as engaging exceptionally well with the students.
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One of the students snapped a cell phone shot of the Secretary's class visit and happened to catch Trixie in the frame
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Praefectus Praetorio said:
It was a seamless continuation when they each began eagerly to peel the other’s clothes off. Before any thought, save lust, was given, the two were naked in each other’s arms, their bodies radiating heat.
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And the details were tastefully left to our woefully warped imaginations. :very_hot:
 
Saturday, March 8th, 2019
Saturday evening, with no classes the next day, and their program rapidly approaching the end, the Four Square Team decided to have a mini party. Two of the guys went out and bought a few bottles of wine and some six-packs of beer, while the girls tried, with limited resources, to decorate the lounge area. Trixie found the giggling confusion of creating a party space with rolls of t-paper and colored post-its wildly cheering.

After the booze arrived, Brian Murphy brought out his iPhone and a pair of Ultimate Ears Hyperbooms. He cranked up the volume and started one of his playlists. The mid-stream party songs proved to be just perfect, and soon the team was having a great time. Dancing was limited at first, with a few awkward pairing of embarrassed boy-girl couples and a few smoother girl-girl sets. As the wine and beer flowed, everyone relaxed, and the party took hold. The team members had come to know each other well and value their platonic friendship.
As it got later and the alcohol was fully taking hold, Brian switched to some more relaxing music that precisely fitted everyone’s mood. With minds and tongues loosened by the drink, animated talk filled the lounge.
Susan, sitting by Trixie, turned to her friend and said, “Lord, that dancing got me sweaty! Why don’t we take a little stroll outside to cool off.”
Trixie, who’d consumed more of the wine than intended, readily agreed. As they got up to go, she caught Dolly out of the corner of her eye. The girl was looking at them with a smile and gave a little wink. Trixie flushed slightly, remembering the passion two nights before.

Soon the friends were strolling around the curving paths through lush landscaping under a clear starry sky. As they walked side-by-side, Susan took Trixie's hand in hers. Trixie was surprised and unsure. But it felt too good to object.
Shortly later, as they turned onto a dimly lit part of the path, Susan stopped and turned Trixie to face her. Without hesitation, she planted her lips on the redhead’s mouth. Trixie, a little slow with all the wine, returned the kiss warmly. However, after a moment, she pulled away.

"Susan..I.., I don't know. I'm very fond of you. But Dolly and I..well, the other night...Umm, you see we…"
"Hush, said Susan, putting her finger on Trixie's lips. I know. Dolly told me."
“What?” Trixie was very confused.
“Yes, we made a wager weeks ago as to which would get in your pants first, silly girl. Dolly, damn her, won!”
Trixie stared in wide-eyed amazement. “But. I thought. Wow!”
“But now I get to even the score,” giggled Susan, slipping her arm through Trixie’s and guiding her back toward the dorm. “The second part of the wager was to see who could first get you into a threesome. Come on. Let’s finish this evening right!”
 
Praefectus Praetorio said:
“The second part of the wager was to see who could first get you into a threesome. Come on. Let’s finish this evening right!”
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Hmmmm … could mean trouble down the road. What’s that saying … two’s company, three’s a crowd?
 
A Fateful Confrontation

Tuesday, March 19th, 2019
Trixie sat with her teammates in one of the open study areas in the James Madison Center. The late afternoon winter sun streamed through sheer curtains of the high windows and skylights onto the light wood floor, creating a bright atmosphere warmed by the reddish oriental rugs.
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Trixie was happy. Her mind went back to the almost six weeks she'd spent at FSI. It had been a whirlwind, an incredible whirlwind. As her friend Dolly had said, it had gone by like a "New Yawk Minute." Classes, studying, and working with the team, who had become her friends, had all been so exciting. Trixie particularly remembered the "Cultural Immersion" sessions. She had been fascinated when an 'old hand' from Far East postings had taken them through the traditional ritual of the Tea Service while they squatted on pillows on the floor.
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Trixie had been studying up about Singapore both in-class and on her own, and the exotic Asian city-state had come to fascinate her. She could hardly believe that she would be there, working in the United States Embassy in ten days.

Now, with just one week until graduation, the classes were winding down, and the team had more chances to hang out together and share their experiences at FSI. It was a bitter-sweet time as each thought expectantly ahead to their overseas posting and, at the same time, back to the precious friendships they formed during their intense time at FSI.
At a lull in the conversation, John Mars asked Trixie, “Have you had your one-on-one with Tom yet?”
“No, I haven’t,” she replied. “I’m getting a little nervous waiting.”
"Don't be," said John. "It is just a formality. Tom reviews what you've learned, congratulates you on your hard work and encourages you to finish strong for the sake of the team. The others I've talked to had just the same."
“That is a relief,” said Trixie. “I think I might be the last who hasn’t had the meeting.”

A few moments later, a staffer came up and handed Trixie a note. She opened it and read, "One-on-one with Team Supervisor, Tom Watson. Today at 5:00 PM in his office."
“There you go,” said John, “now you can stop worrying.”
"Yes," said Trixie with a slightly forced smile. Inside, she was still worried. After the neglected, demeaning, and abusive nature of most of her young life, the girl always was afraid of being judged inadequate. She distrusted any happiness.
Trixie's prior education was inferior to that of her teammates. Only her hard work and determination had allowed her to keep up. As was the policy at FSI, she had received no grades or ranking to reassure her. The system assumed that her supervisor would give the needed feedback to keep the candidate from anxiety over their grades. Tom Watson had given that feedback privately to all members of the team except Trixie. Given her insecurity, she never raised the lack of information with her teammates, fearing it would expose her shortcomings. In this way, Watson had planned to enter her exit review with her in total uncertainty and vulnerability to manipulation.

Shortly before five, Trixie walked with her teammates out the front doors. As they boarded the shuttle bus to the dormitory, she exchanged good-byes and some friendly hugs. The girl felt a strange shiver of fear as if she were saying goodbye for the last time. Shaking it off, she turned and headed back inside and down the South Wing to Mr. Watson's office. While she kept telling herself that there was no reason for worry, the feeling of apprehension continued to hang over her.

With classes long over for the day, the Wing was quiet and quite empty with a dimmed, energy-conserving setting to the lighting. Trixie's heels clicked loudly on the marble floor and echoed from the bare walls of the darkened hall.

At five, exactly, she knocked on the door, and her supervisor invited her in.
 
Oh wow, the buildup is exquisite PrPr… how can I possibly be so invested in the fate of this trailer park hick? Why do I care that she is so full of trepidation and fear, which drips from the page? Why am I so heavily turned on by her desperate vulnerability?

How is it that despite my rooting* for her, am I so eager for her utter humiliation and Hobson’s choice I want her to face?

* see earlier post
 
A much-awaited performance review. How was your last one? Like this?

Like most staff space in the Madison Center, Tom Watson's office was moderate-sized, sparsely furnished, and had only two small windows, covered with drawn blinds. The room was a bit dim with the ceiling lights turned off and just a desk and a corner lamp to supplement the fading pale winter light filtering in the window. Trixie gave an involuntary shiver at the cold atmosphere and foreboding illumination.
Tom was sitting behind his desk, in a pool of light from the gooseneck desk lamp, looking at some papers. He had taken off his jacket and wore just dark trousers, a white, striped-fabric shirt, stretched tight and collar unbuttoned on his large neck, and a blue and black, diagonally striped tie draped over his expansive gut. He didn't bother to rise or even look up when Trixie entered.
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Without deigning to greet his student, he told her in a gruff voice to close and lock the door, and take a seat on the chair before his desk. Trixie was, by now, much too apprehensive about the interview to question the locked door. When she came to the chair, she saw another hard-backed wooden one like Dr. Reedy had used for her interview. That thought made her shiver again. She already felt sweat breaking out over her body. Trixie sat down on the hard chair and tried, without success, to get comfortable.

Watson took several minutes reading the report in front of him. He occasionally made notes, often accompanied by grunts of disgust. The supervisor finished with a rueful shake of his head and a sigh. He grabbed the head of the desk lamp and turned it so it shone away from him and onto Trixie. She blinked and lowered her eyes, temporarily blinded by the glare.
Watson struggled to lever his considerable bulk up from his chair with a groan. Whether his difficulty sprang from tiredness at the end of a day or discouragement by what he had been reading was impossible to tell. But his ill mood worried Trixie. She has hoped for the cheerful encouragement as the others had received.

Tom slowly walked around to the front of his desk, still not acknowledging or even looking at Trixie. He sat on the edge of his desk, towering over the girl, with his arms folded over his chest. Finally, he looked down at her, a deep frown on his face. For a full minute, he stared at the girl with a stern expression but saying nothing. Trixie, blinking at the light from the desk, began to feel sweat running down between her shoulder blades behind and her breasts in front. She sat bolt upright on the hard chair, her chest thrust forward, feeling the sharp slats pressing into her back. It brought back that horrible interview with Dr. Reedy! She pressed her legs together and clasped her hands together tightly in her lap. She lowered her eyes, intimidated by her supervisor's harsh stare. Trixie's mind was on fire, her thoughts racing! She couldn't stand this waiting! She struggled but failed to control her panicked breathing. But she dared not make a sound. Trixie fought to keep her lower lip from twitching.

Watson enormously enjoyed the mounting tension. He knew that dragging out the uncertainty and the ominous atmosphere must be torture to the slut.
After what seemed forever, Tom broke the silence.

“You have disappointed me, Trixie,” he started in a low, stern voice. “You have sorely disappointed me. It has been many years since I have felt so badly let down.” Again he fell silent.
Trixie felt like her heart would beat through her chest. She wanted to scream. What has she done? Was it that horrible interview with the Counselor?
 
Trixie stared in terror at her supervisor. She could find nothing to say.

Watson took his time, looking down with contempt at the girl. Now was the time to break her.
"You should know well by now how important teamwork is here,” he started in a slow voice of disappointment. Gradually he allowed a note of anger to slip into his voice. “How could you let down your team and me like this? Have you no shame for what you’ve done?"
Trixie stared with her mouth open, muttering sounds but no words. What could she say when she wasn’t sure what he was talking about? She just knew this was bad, very bad! The hurt and anger in Tom's voice cut to her heart and made her feel empty inside.
"Your performance in class has been woefully inadequate, girl,” he said, sounding like a demanding schoolmaster. His years at the FSI had honed his speaking and acting skills so that he could guide an audience or, especially, one scared girl on any emotional rollercoaster he wanted.
“You have assembled, I daren't say achieved, a record to date that barely exceeds the minimum requirements for graduation.” His voice now slipped into a cross between deep sorrow and intense resentment. “You are dragging down the whole team with your sorry excuse for an effort."
Oh my god, she thought. I had no idea. Everyone else seemed to have stronger academic backgrounds, but she had worked so hard!
“One more weak test or paper before Monday, and you will fail! I have never had a student fail. How could you be so lazy and irresponsible?”

Tears welled up in Trixie's eyes as she tried to deal with this horrible news. All she could do was murmur feeble apologies like, "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'll try harder. I'm so sorry! Please give me another chance. I thought I was doing okay."
“You THOUGHT you were doing okay!" Tom's voice rose to just below a shout. "No one could think that the pitiful work you have done could be okay! Don't you even care? Don't you feel any shame?"
Trixie collapsed under the verbal assault and began sobbing uncontrollably. Tom just stood patiently and let the girl cry. He knew that she had performed average or above in all her classes, but without grades given or his feedback, she would have no way to know that. He could browbeat this sexy redhead all he wanted, and she would be defenseless. He stared down at the beautiful girl, her lovely breasts in the fine silky blouse now shaking with her gasps of tears, her hands clasped just above her creamy thighs, well displayed by her miniskirt.

Watson knew that he had her. This little slut was now putty to mold in his hands. And, he intended to use his hands to do some very rough molding indeed!

But, there was no hurry. Tom enjoyed playing with Trixie's mind, inflicting painful mental torture. And, he had additional powerful weapons to use for that.
 
Praefectus Praetorio said:
Trixie stared in terror at her supervisor. She could find nothing to say.

Watson took his time, looking down with contempt at the girl. Now was the time to break her.
"You should know well by now how important teamwork is here,” he started in a slow voice of disappointment. Gradually he allowed a note of anger to slip into his voice. “How could you let down your team and me like this? Have you no shame for what you’ve done?"
Trixie stared with her mouth open, muttering sounds but no words. What could she say when she wasn’t sure what he was talking about? She just knew this was bad, very bad! The hurt and anger in Tom's voice cut to her heart and made her feel empty inside.
"Your performance in class has been woefully inadequate, girl,” he said, sounding like a demanding schoolmaster. His years at the FSI had honed his speaking and acting skills so that he could guide an audience or, especially, one scared girl on any emotional rollercoaster he wanted.
“You have assembled, I daren't say achieved, a record to date that barely exceeds the minimum requirements for graduation.” His voice now slipped into a cross between deep sorrow and intense resentment. “You are dragging down the whole team with your sorry excuse for an effort."
Oh my god, she thought. I had no idea. Everyone else seemed to have stronger academic backgrounds, but she had worked so hard!
“One more weak test or paper before Monday, and you will fail! I have never had a student fail. How could you be so lazy and irresponsible?”

Tears welled up in Trixie's eyes as she tried to deal with this horrible news. All she could do was murmur feeble apologies like, "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'll try harder. I'm so sorry! Please give me another chance. I thought I was doing okay."
“You THOUGHT you were doing okay!" Tom's voice rose to just below a shout. "No one could think that the pitiful work you have done could be okay! Don't you even care? Don't you feel any shame?"
Trixie collapsed under the verbal assault and began sobbing uncontrollably. Tom just stood patiently and let the girl cry. He knew that she had performed average or above in all her classes, but without grades given or his feedback, she would have no way to know that. He could browbeat this sexy redhead all he wanted, and she would be defenseless. He stared down at the beautiful girl, her lovely breasts in the fine silky blouse now shaking with her gasps of tears, her hands clasped just above her creamy thighs, well displayed by her miniskirt.

Watson knew that he had her. This little slut was now putty to mold in his hands. And, he intended to use his hands to do some very rough molding indeed!

But, there was no hurry. Tom enjoyed playing with Trixie's mind, inflicting painful mental torture. And, he had additional powerful weapons to use for that.
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I suppose you could make the argument that Watson`s treatment of Trixie is good training for her upcoming ordeals in Singapore and Turkey, but it doesn`t really hold water.
 
Oh far out, @Praefectus Praetorio - not only do you have Tom manipulate Trixie’s emotions but you manipulate my own! I hate Tom for his obvious lies yet I love seeing her so vulnerable and cruelly manipulated… I refuse to like Tom despite his magnificent interrogation!


I still root for Trixie, but I also want to be her… to be such a confused unloved fish out of water, to come from dirt, unworthy, so desperate to please and having no idea of my value…

And to be so completely humiliated, yes, this element speaks deeply to my kink in an unexpected way… erotica by definition.

Bravo indeed, your efforts paid off again, sir!
 
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