A Pool Hall Story (FM, bd, sm, strip pool, femdom) A Pool Hall Story Jenny just loved the pool hall. Something about the mathematical precision of the balls moving around the table obeying the immutable laws of physics but sometimes (usually at the most unexpected moment) seemingly obeying the laws of an alternative universe fascinated her. When good players were playing. especially when something significant like money or even ego was at stake, Jenny could spend hours watching, enjoying the game more than a good movie, a new episode of her favorite sitcom, sometimes even better than sleep! An unintended side effect of Jenny's pool fascination was that she was quite good at pool. In the past, many male pool hall regulars had befriended" Jenny usually with romance not friendship as the ultimate goal. Jenny had been happy to get lots of free pool lessons in exchange for letting guys look at her bending over the pool table in tight outfits. Jenny was good enough to beat 99% of casual players and sometimes good enough to give even good players a good scare. More important, like all hustlers, she was adept at judging a player's skill. From the smoothness of his stroke, the steadiness of his bridge, and the ways his eyes measured angles and the speed of the cloth, Jenny judged accurately the power of a player's game and whether her skill was superior--not determining whether he could be beaten in a single match for that was the province of the Pool Hall Gods, but whether she enjoyed a statistical preponderance allowing her to prevail in the long run. The combination of Jenny's shooting skill, her ability to judge other player's skill, her hustler's love for action, and her perverse sense of humor is where this story begins. Like many Korean boys accepted to UCLA, Kwok Nam was quite full of himself. Among FOB Korean girls, the mention of a UCLA acceptance provided status. You could wear crappy clothes, drive a dumpy car, be short, and ugly but if you attended UCLA, FOB Korean girls thought you had a future, maybe as a doctor or lawyer or businessman. Korean girls would give you some play. You were someone. Kwok's reality was quite different. He had been accepted to UCLA based primarily on his high school GPA (3.9) and his raft of extracurricular activities, but the reality was that although he was smart by normal standards in the rarefied atmosphere of a top university he was average at best. This was reflected in his grades, a C+ average. He had told his parents that he was going to be a doctor and had enrolled in all the right pre-med classes, but despite hours and hours pounding the books, he could not get above a C in his pre-med classes. There were just two many Einsteins at UCLA. Kwok was actually in a bit of a bind. His proud mother had first told all the relatives that her son had been accepted to UCLA. Then she had told them that he was a pre-med. The Uncles and Aunts all talked about Mrs. Nam's son--the smart one who was going to be a doctor. Kwok knew that with his grades he would never be able to attend a U.S. medical school. It looked like Guam or Grenada at best. Kwok, although he continued to spend his days attending class and studying hard, was quite depressed. At night, he would lay in bed, stare at the ceiling, and try to think how he would apprise his parents of his academic dilemma. Worse than telling his parents would be dealing with his relatives. For the rest of his life, he would be Kwok- the boy who tried to be a doctor. One night while laying in bed staring at the ceiling, feeling depressed, Kwok's phone rang. It was his friends. They were on the way to the Baccara to play pool and wanted Kwok to come out. Normally, Kwok would not go out on weeknight, he was too serious about this studies, but tonight he was feeling sorry for himself and couldn't sleep. On an impulse he told his friends to pick him up. It was typical night at the Baccara and Jenny was bored. The problem with hanging out at the same pool hall all the time was the same small cliche of people also hung out there. After a few weeks,everybody knows everybody else and life gets boring. Jenny was especially piqued tonight. Boredom had really set in and Jenny had decided to go out even though it was a weeknight and she had early morning class. For some unknown reason, she had taken care to dress up. Rather than the normal jeans and baby doll top she wore on weeknights, Jenny had gone nine yards with her ankle length black crepe silk skirt, black GoGo boots, lime green bikini top, and a half open matching black silk jacket. Now she felt mildly embarrassed. She had come to the Baccara alone,sat around alone, played alone, and was now getting ready to go home alone. She would have a dry cleaning bill for her nice clothing and have to drag herself bleary eyed out of bed early in the morning. She wouldn't have minded if at least she had some fun tonight! At that moment, Kwok and his friends entered the Baccara. At first sight something about Kwok irked Jenny. Kwok was dressed shabbily, like he had just risen from bed, tossed on whatever clothes happened to be lying on the floor and shambled out of the house. Jenny's nose wrinkled as she imagined that Kwok probably had not showered and smelled foul. Kwok's UCLA sweatshirt also irritated Jenny. Rather than humility, Kwok's UCLA t-shirt, in Jenny's mind, was a not too subtle way of putting down the world. Because she was thinking these thoughts, she was caught staring at Kwok. His friends noticed her look, pointed it out to Kwok. Jenny saw them elbowing each other, whispering obviously lewd comments to each other, and laughing. Jenny's irritation level rose. How could those losers even consider the possibility she would be interested in such stuck up trash. Things got worse. Jenny noticed more animated conversation between Kwok and her friends. More not-to-sly glances in her direction and, finally, Kwok moving toward the table where she was practicing. As Kwok moved across the pool hall, Jenny panicked. What am I going to do now? How am I going to get rid of this loser. As Kwok moved closer, Jenny's panic turned to anger. Why do I care what this loser thinks? Does he think that just because he has a UCLA sweatshirt on he's somebody. He probably doesn't even go to UCLA. And look at those sandals. He is wearing his shower shoes as going out shoes. What a lowlife. Kwok took up position about 6 feet away from the table where Jenny was playing and his eyes locked on Jenny waiting for her to look at him and establish eye contact. Jenny was bent over the table and could feel Kwok's eyes moving up and down her body. At first Jenny blushed at such close male scrutiny then she became angrier. I should teach this guy a lesson. As Jenny straightened from her shot (which she missed because Kwok's gaze had flustered her), she looked at Kwok. Kwok said: Hi my name is Kwok. For a girl, you shoot pretty good. Maybe I can give you a few tips to improve your game. Kwok's comment was the final straw. Who was this loser? I could whip his ass no problem. Jenny decided that she was going to teach this guy a lesson and no mercy would be given. Jenny straightened up. She looked Kwok in the eye. Without saying anything, she first straightened her skirt so that it lay smoothly over her slim hips. Jenny then slid out of her jacket. Her torso was revealed clad only in her bikini top. The top was lime green and worn without a bra. Even though the cups were fully lined, a noticeable bump appeared where Jenny nipples pushed against the smooth clingy rayon. The top featured spaghetti straps which went over her shoulders and another set of straps which tied in back. Between her breasts was a silver metal ring. She felt cool air whispering around her shoulders and bare arms and goosebumps appeared her upper arms. Kwok's mind was racing. As Jenny took off her jacket and revealed her provocatively clad body, Kwok's eyes dropped from Jenny's face and locked on her chest. For a moment, momentarily disconnected from the current situation, thoughts raced through his head. Besides pictures, Kwok had only seen two woman's breasts. His first girlfriend in high school and a girl that he had dated briefly as a UCLA freshman. Neither girl had much body going on and, in each case, when Kwok had gotten a good look at these girls naked breasts he had been sorely disappointed. Rather than real life versions of the breasts he had seen in pictures and fantasized about in his wet dreams, big, perky, and pneumatic, the reality was floppy bags of fat. Kwok had actually come to believe that the girls in pictures were just regular girls where clever photography, touch ups, and careful posing made them look so hot. As Kwok stared at Jenny's barely clad breasts, Kwok realized he had been mistaken. Jenny's partially clad torso, showed two perfectly formed grapefruit sized mounds perched perkily on her chest. Kwok imagined what Jenny's breasts would look like naked. Kwok's reverie was broken by Jenny's voice. Oh so will give me a few pointers? You don't look very athletic. I bet I could beat you. Kwok's friends had moved closer to the table and were now close enough to hear Jenny. Out of the corner of his eye, Kwok noticed his friends had moved within earshot. There was no choice now, Kwok had to save face and not back down from a girl. If he let a girl, especially a pretty Korean girl, face him off he would never live it down. Bet? How about if I beat you, you give me your phone number and if I beat you I'll give you my phone number? Kwok thought he was being funny and cool. No I mean a real bet. That is if you aren't afraid a girl will beat you? Not realizing the seriousness of the situation, Kwok continued trying to be funny. How about strip pool? If I beat you, you strip and if I beat you, I'll strip? OK. How about a race to five? For each game lost the person will remove one article of clothing? The game was now up. It was 2AM the same night. The Baccara closed to regular customers at 1AM but once David, the manager, had learned what was afoot, he had agreed to stay around after regular closing hours. The doors were locked. Kwok and his friends were gathered at one end of the pool hall and Jenny and David were standing at the front desk. Because of the nature of the match, certain rules had been negotiated. The nine ball match would consist of a race to 3. After each game, the loser would be remove one item of clothing of their choosing. Shoes and socks do not count as clothing. This gave Kwok three items of clothing, shirt, pants, and underwear. Jenny also had 3 items of clothing, bikini top, skirt and panties. Once naked, the loser would then have to be inspected by the winner for 15 minutes. During the 15 minutes, the winner could touch and fondle all they pleased but there would be no penetration of bodily orifices. During the inspection, the loser would be physically restrained. To insure compliance, each person had given David the keys to their cars, their wallets, and all their money. The game began. A flip of a coin had been made to determine the initial break. Kwok had won the flip and lined up to break the rack. As Jenny had negotiated the rules of their match, Kwok had become increasingly nervous. Jenny's tone, confident demeanor, and seemingly thorough knowledge of betting pool had made Kwok keenly aware that Jenny was not some dumb FOB pool hall honey. As they were negotiating, Kwok had noticed that Jenny was playing with her own cue. He didn't know much about cues, but Jenny's cue had an expensive look about it. The shaft was made from heavily marbled wood and the joint gleamed with several polished silver rings. It occurred to him that someone, even a girl, would not spend lots of money on a custom cue unless they played a lot and could tell the difference between a custom cue and a house cue. Despite his qualms, Kwok was in a weak negotiating position. Turning down the match would be almost as bad as losing. His friends would call him chicken for the rest of his life. Kwok broke the balls. Luck was on his side. The cue hit the one squarely and with good velocity. The balls spread evenly around the table with no problem clusters. Even better the four went down, the nine moved toward a corner pocket, stopping about four inches out, and even more lucky, the one stopped within an inch of the nine. Kwok had a clear shot at the one/nine combination. Given the proximity of the nine and the one all Kwok needed was to hit the one. Without much trouble, Kwok hit the one/nine combination, winning the first game. Jenny never came to the table. All eyes turned toward Jenny. She blushed. Inside, Jenny was flabbergasted. This was not turning out the way she had planned. She knew that 9 times out of 10 she could whup Kwok. She had planned on winning 3 quick games, humiliating him, and going home with a smug smile. The possibility that Kwok would get lucky on the break had not entered her deliberations. Silence descended as Jenny considered her options. She reached for the waist of her long skirt, shimmied her hips momentarily, and stepped out of her skirt. David took the skirt and placed it behind the front desk out of reach. Jenny was now clad in only her panties and bikini top. Like many girls, Jenny had a wild side which she expressed in her choice of personal lingerie. Tonight she had chosen a French cut purple g-string as panties. In the back there was only a thin string running up the crack in her behind and in front her sex was barely covered with a 2 inch wide strip of purple lace cloth. She had trimmed her bush this week, leaving it bald and smooth. After removing her skirt, Jenny tried to act nonchalantly but it was difficult. Kwok and his friends just stood there staring at Jenny's almost naked body. Her bikini top revealed her torso and rack well. It did not take much to imagine what Jenny would look like topless. With her skirt gone, Jenny's lower body was revealed. With her calf high GoGo boots and g-string, the muscles of her calves were clearly delineated. Jenny was very trim (she had 10.2% body fat according to the self test device at the Sharper Image store in the Glendale Galleria). Kwok was reminded of the strippers he had seen at Bob's Classy Lady. Besides the full body blush she was sporting, Jenny acted as if she was fully dressed. She told herself that she was just a little bit more exposed than when she went to the beach and wore her two-piece (the bottom of her swimsuit featured full coverage in the rear!). She bent over (now why had she thrown the triangle under the table instead of placing it on the overhead light!), picked up the rack, collected the balls from the pockets and racked the balls for the second game. As she leaned over the table to rack the balls, her flanks were fully on view, and a voice behind her said, "nice butcrack." Followed by around of snickering. Jenny blushed more deeply, her cheeks clenched involuntarily, but, otherwise, she refused to acknowledge the comment and laughter. Kwok stepped up to the table and broke the balls for the second game. Jenny standing on the side with her back to one of the pillars, closed her eyes, and silently prayed. When she opened her eyes and looked at the layout she breathed a sigh of relief. None of the balls had gone down and she had a clear shot on the one. The one ball was blocked so she didn't have a chance to pocket the one but that was no problem. Jenny stepped to the table, stroked the cue, hitting the one and moving it so that it was placed behind a cluster of balls with the one fully on the other end of the table. The only chance Kwok would be able to avoid ball in hand would be to hit a three cushion bank. Jenny did not think Kowk knew how to figure the angles for such a shot. She was correct. Kwok tired to hit the one by caroming the ball three rails but missed by more than a foot. Jenny cooly placed the cue to pocket the one. Just like in the first game, the nine had rolled to within a few inches of the corner pocket with the two placed for an easy combination. Since Jenny had the cue in hand, pocketing the one was easy, and she was able to get shape on the two for the combination. The two/nine went down and now it was Kwok's turn to squirm. He removed his shirt. Like many FOB korean boys, Kwok did not work out. The removal of his shirt revealed a pale emaciated torso. A few stray clumps of chest hair sprouted randomly from his chest but otherwise he was hairles. Jenny's ideal guy was lean, muscular, and cut. In the back of her mind, Jenny wished she hadn't lost the game. The sight of Kwok's sorry body was making her queasy. Kwok racked the balls for the third game. This time Jenny had the break. She put down the four on the break and had a good look at the one. After running the one, two, three, and five, Jenny was left with no chance to pocket the six. She hit another safety, placing the seven behind the eight and nine with the cue at the other end of the table. Kwok was left with the same 3 cushion bank to hit the six. Again he missed by more than a foot (Jenny had correctly figured that Kwok did not know how to figure what angle a ball will come the rail). With ball in hand, Jenny ran out the remaining balls. Kwok was stunned. Removing his shirt was no problem. He actually thought his chest was cute (his last girlfriend had told him), but now he must remove his pants. Facing the music, Kwok unbuckled his pants and let them drop to the floor. The sight of Kwok's torso had mad Jenny a little queasy but the sight of Kwok in his undies made her naseous. Rather than boxers, Kwok wore tighty whities---with visible tears and slightly gray in color from many washings. As Kwok moved to rack the balls for the fourth game, Jenny moved behind him. As he leaned over the table to rack the balls, Jenny snickered and said, "nice treadmarks." At this comment even Kwok's friends cracked a chuckle. It was Kwok's turn to body flush. Jenny stepped up to the table for the break. Putting her whole body into it (Kwok's friends noticed how Jenny's breast swung freely during her stroke) the one rocketed into the rack. The balls split neatly apart. The nine rolled right into the corner pocket. The fourth game was Jenny's. David returned Jenny's skirt and jacket. Jenny slipped them on. That was much better. Now she turned to Kwok. Well Mr. big talk. Are you going to pay up? Or are you a cheaser? Kwok just stood there frozen. OK. I don't know why but I'll give you a break. Let me have 30 minutes of inspection time, let me do whatever I want to you, and I'll make your friends go outside so they won't have to watch. Is that a deal? Kwok was screwed. What difference did the inspection time make. The less his friends saw of his humiliation the better. If they were outside he could make up a story later about what went on. Who would dispute him? Kwok agreed. His friends stepped outside. David locked the door. From behind the counter he brought out a pair of handcuffs. At the sight of the cuffs, Kwok eyes widened. The conditions were inspection while physically restrained. Jenny took the handcuffs and ordered David to stand with his back to one of the pillars. She grabbed a rope that was part of the velvet curtains tied the cuffs to the velvet rope, took each of Kwok's hands and placed them in the cuffs. When she stepped back, David was strung up, hand over his head, back to the pillar. David told Jenny he would step outside and return in 30 minutes. When Jenny and Kwok were alone, Jenny reached over and pulled Kwok's shorts to his knees. Jenny looked down at Kwok's penis. Jenny had always thought boys things were funny, especially when not excited. SHe was no Ho but had had a few boyfriends--both asian and caucasian. What she saw was typical asian boy equipment-a little on the small side. Jenny took a cloth napkin from one of the tables. Wrapping her hand in the napkin, she reached over and manipulated Kwok's penis. Kwok's immedialtly sported wood. Jenny continued to stroke until Kwok looked on the verge of orgasm-his eyes had rotated into the top of his head, he breathing had become heavy, and low moan was emanating from his lips. When Jenny had him on the verge of orgasm, she quickly grabed a house cue, stepped back, and brought the butt of the cue sharply down on Kwok's organ. Kwok jerked involuntarily in his bonds and let loose an animal like howl. His penis went limp. Outside the Baccara, Kwok's friends heard his cries and tried to open the doors. They were locked. Inside, Jenny picked up the napkin wrapped her hand again and stepped over to stroke Kwok's organ to erection again. This was going to be the longest 30 minutes in Kwok's life.