{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"d998b9cc-cee7-434a-9bc3-5b97ea20c0a5","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2024-02-05T07:13:03.695Z","title":"La chica fea","slug":"la-chica-fea","shortId":"kNOUGO3T","authorNote":"TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains ethnic slurs, raceplay, and poorly written dialectical speech.\n\nStory-codes: FM, cnc, raceplay, BDSM, light rough, rom, racism, misogyny, cons, slow\n\nExplanation of Story-Codes: This series contains: nonconsensual sex between a dominant man and a submissive woman (M/f, nc) depicted in such a way that she comes to enjoy it; rough sex, light erotic violence, bondage and sadomasochism; romance (of a sort); and consensual sex. Arguably this plot involving the degradation of Mexicans and ugly Mexican women has elements that are racist and misogynistic. This story is also slow (i.e., long segments of bad fiction writing get in the way of raw sex scenes). Also, for your enjoyment, I've inserted an few typos and grammatical error.","disclaimer":"Copyright (c) 2024 by darwin1859@ymail.com. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, see: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/\n\nDisclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.","type":"Novella","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"With my apologies to Shaw's Pygmalion, an illegal Mexican immigrant girl falls in love with me and willingly endures my painful discipline as I transform her into a lowly sex slave.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"f0eab4f1-c82a-40f5-bd79-7b4b50ea1e53","title":"Meeting Maria","summary":"My name is James Morgan — not that James Morgan, I'm his son — or his grandson, depending on which o","wordCount":4260,"readTime":21,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Meeting Maria","content":"

My name is James Morgan — not that James Morgan, I'm his son — or his grandson, depending on which one you are talking about. I'm Jay or Trey to family and friends, except my father, who always calls me James. Usually when a parent calls their kid by their full name, it means the kid's in trouble... And that's how it was with my father all the time. My high school years were one long argument between us. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps as an investment banker and later a venture capitalist. Making money was his religion at the time, and it seemed to me to be the most important thing in his life — more important than myself, my late mother, my brothers and sister, etc. I saw how he lived and although I was not blind to the advantages of money, I saw the sacrifices that he made, ones that often affected me or my family members. It made me see him as a man obsessed and sick like any other addict.

Knowing what you do not want to do in life is a far cry from knowing what you do actually wish to do. This probably irritated my father, but I felt I was owed some time to explore my options, sow a few wild oats, and generally fuck around before I was forced to make my way in the world. Our long-running argument ended when I followed many of my friends to a respectable state university where the four years of tuition and housing would cost the same as a single year at one of the Ivy League schools that he preferred.

Father agreed to pay my tuition and fees and to pay a small stipend. It would cover living expenses and not much more. I might have been bitter that the rest of my family lived on in luxury, while I ate ramen and lived in a run-down old house, but the truth was that I was giddy with the freedom of being out from under my father's thumb. It felt like I could breathe again.

I found that college students, even rich college students, were very different from most people. With only very minor suffering, a student could stretch a limited budget very far indeed. Pizza and crappy beer were inexpensive, parties and card games and soap operas and novels and local theater and lectures and student shows and college bands and late night discussions about life and the dozens of other distractions were all essentially extremely affordable. Even though I didn't have much money, I had more money than most students — my grandparents were generous when I needed some extra cash — and I lived a very happy and very Bohemian life for a couple of years.

At school, I dabbled. I took math, philosophy, music, photography, film appreciation (which you would think was a blow-off, but it was far more consuming than calculus had been, with weekly in-depth movie critiques), astronomy, psychology, computer science, economics, political science, etc. I tried an introductory engineering course, which was fascinating, but far too much work.

During this time, I had taken various menial, minimum wage jobs as much for the variety, as to earn a little extra pizza-and-beer money. I had a reliable car (an older-model Volvo), so I spent a summer after my sophomore year delivering pizzas.

The restaurant was operated by a friend of mine, Leon Alvarez. Leon's father was filthy rich with South American oil and telecommunications, and he had pushed Leon to go to school in the US. Setting Leon up in the pizza business was his way of skirting immigration laws (Leon's was a student visa) but also designed to teach his son about the microeconomics of a small business. And, I have to say, Leon ate that part up. When he wasn't busy throwing a party in the backroom or studying or smoking weed, he was thinking of new ways to make the pizzeria even more successful. He had grand visions of Pi-Delta-Alpha (i.e., \"Pizza de Alvarez\") being known in college towns across the region.

Anyway, Leon got his weed and his kitchen staff from the same source. He would meet shady Mexican couriers in out-of-the-way places and accept small packages or smelly wetbacks into his car.

Eventually, two of those wetbacks were poor girls from Chiapas named Lupe and Maria. Neither Lupe nor Maria were good-looking. In fact, I later reflected that if they had been great beauties, they may have been forced into another line of work.

The best thing I can say about Lupe is that she was fairly sharp, and I wondered what she would have made of herself if she had had a decent education. Between her and Maria, Lupe was definitely the leader. But she wasn't much to look at: a squat little troll of a woman with a round, lopsided, pock-marked face topped with oily black hair. The only good thing that could be said of her baggy clothes was that they were generally odor-free and didn't give much of an impression of her body.

If Lupe was repellent, Maria was merely ugly, a slightly chubby butterface. She stood half a head taller than Lupe but still only about 5 feet tall. Her face was probably her worst feature, plain with big, protruding black eyes and a large nose, but as you went lower, things improved; she had full lips (although they hid terrible teeth) and very large breasts. Her tits had to be at least \"D\" size and possible larger. Her shapeless clothes hid what might be a nice, curvy figure. But she didn't seem to change her clothes nor shower often enough. Her black hair was a mess, as if someone had whacked off big chunks with a kitchen knife (which, as it turned out, was exactly what her parents had done.)

Anyway, I saw Lupe and Maria roughly every other day and I became about as acquainted with them as the other Mexicans that worked in the kitchen. They were all good people, young and adventurous and trying to make their way in the world, just as I was. Of course, theirs was a rougher existence than mine. All the men (there were two dishwasher/busboys and three cooks) lived in one apartment, and Lupe and Maria lived with six other Mexican women. They walked to work and they ate at the restaurant, even on their off days. Most of their clothes and things were from good-will. They avoided stealing because they were deathly worried about any involvement with the police. None of the Mexicans spoke much English, although Lupe spoke a bit and could make herself understood most of the time.

After I had known them for a couple of weeks, Lupe asked me to drive them home at closing. They didn't want their Mexican roommates to see them getting a ride, so they had me drop them off a block away from their apartment in a run-down section off campus. After looking up and down the street to make sure that the coast was clear, they bolted from the car and ran behind one of the buildings. I gave them a ride a few more times and they did the same each time. At the time, I didn't think anything more about this.

A couple of weeks later, I got a poorly addressed card at home. I opened it and it was a short love letter from Maria. She wrote \"luve yoo\". I wondered if it was a joke? Or else what it meant? It also was clear that I did not love Maria, but then why would I? I'd hardly spent time with her.

At work, Lupe and Maria were acting funny and talking to me more in their broken English. Lupe asked me if I'd gotten any \"special mails\" and I pretended that I hadn't and changed the subject.

When I got to work a couple of days later, Lupe cornered me by the back door.

\"Maria send joo cart. Joo see cart?\" Lupe asked me suspiciously.

\"I don't know what you're talking about,\" I explained.

\"No, no, no. Maria send joo cart,\" Lupe said, shaking her head. \"This is very important for Maria. I know joo see cart.\"

\"Look, Lupe, I don't know Maria. People in the United States don't tell strangers that they love them—\" I tried to explain, but Lupe cut me off.

\"Maria is no a stranger to joo! We work together much time!\"

\"Yeah, but she barely speaks any English! We haven't even interacted much!\" I protested.

\"So Senior Smart-head, how do norteamericanos court?\"

\"I don't know... We go on dates...\"

\"Fine, Maria would like to go on date with joo. I must go too, as ... We say 'duenna.' Because Maria mother no here, I will be duenna on date.\"

\"You want me to take both of you on a date?\"

\"Joo have to do this, James. It very important for Maria!\"

\"Well...\" The truth was, I had no plans for Saturday night. \"Do the two of you want to go to dinner on Saturday?\"

\"We work Saturday night,\" Lupe frowned.

\"Can you switch with someone on the day shift? You said this is important to Maria...\" Lupe scowled, but I think she knew that she was caught.

\"Jes. Fine. Saturday night. We will meet joo here at the 6:00.\"

That day and the next, when we were working together, Maria made a point of coming over and asking me about little things. She asked a lot of questions about how to say things in English. Also, we talked about making tortillas. She was eager to show off her cooking skills, but her English wasn't very good, so we got hung up on the ingredients. She said that the corn flour had to have \"stone\" in it and I couldn't figure out what she was talking about at the time. Turns out she meant \"lime,\" the corn flour used to make tortillas is processed with lime to allow the corn to form a dough. But at the time, I couldn't understand her at all and she was obviously frustrated.

Saturday night I got to work around 6PM to pick them up. I had decided that they might like to try Chinese food, which I imagine they didn't get a lot of in Mexico nor here. They didn't seem to get out much. Turns out, the girls were only getting paid about half of the minimum wage. They got to eat at the restaurant for free, but after they paid for rent and other necessities, they only had about $50 left each week. Lupe and Maria sent everything they had back home, so they hadn't done much of anything that required any money. They had been saving a few dollars each month for emergencies.

Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised when I saw them that they were dressed up and looked pretty normal. They both had dresses on and they looked like they'd styled their hair.

I pulled up and expected them to jump into the car, but they went to the passenger side of the car and just waited, Maria by the front door and Lupe by the back door, and looked at me with their dark eyes. After a minute, I got out and opened the door for them, Maria first, then Lupe. I didn't realize Mexicans were so formal.

\"Thank joo, Jay,\" Maria smiled sweetly. She still looked pretty ugly, but she smelled nice. Lupe didn't look happy.

\"This Chinese place that I'm taking you isn't anything fancy,\" I said as we drove the short distance. \"You two may be over dressed.\" I myself was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Lupe hadn't seemed thrilled when she saw that, but Maria was all smiles.

\"No, no. Fine,\" they both said. Because the food was so unfamiliar, I asked them what they liked and then ordered for us. They liked the rice and the spicy chicken dish I ordered. Lupe liked the egg roll but Maria only ate a bit and then gave the rest to Lupe. Lupe ate quite a lot, while Maria ate like a bird.

Maria seemed more interested in talking to me. In a smattering of broken English and Spanish she asked me about my family, school, what I hoped to do after school. She seemed to be trying out her English and she knew more than I thought. Her English was quite a bit better than what I remembered of my high school Spanish. It helped the conversation that she'd ask me questions so that I had to do most of the talking. I guess I do like to talk. She would just smile and nod at me, but a couple times she did ask a follow-up question. I was telling her about my troubles with my father and she asked why I didn't speak about my mother, and I had to tell her that my mother had passed away.

\"Oh! Lo siento! Dios mio! I much sorry!\" she said, with a look of horror for having brought this up.

I smiled at her, \"It's OK. I like talking about my mom. She was a really amazing woman.\" And then I talked about her a bit before she changed the subject.

\"I will like to be real Norte American girl,\" Maria said at one point in the conversation, and Lupe's eyes went round and she let loose an angry stream of gibberish. If it was Spanish, it was a dialect that I didn't understand, and she spoke so rapidly and in a quiet voice but aimed right at Maria, who looked chastised at first but who rallied quickly to fire back her own stream of gibberish. Lupe looked scandalized but Maria smiled shyly at me and changed the subject to the weather.

[I later asked Maria about this exchange later and apparently the girls' plan was to return to Mexico to find Mexican husbands and live in Mexico. Lupe was upset that Maria would want to act like American girls (like sluts, in other words), but Maria told Lupe that she'd stay and have white babies with blue eyes who don't need to worry about whether their daddy will beat them.]

After we ate, I drove the girls to my house. They seemed a bit uncomfortable to be alone in the house with me, especially Lupe. But I coaxed them in and turned on Telemundo and that got them feeling a bit more comfortable. They told me that they didn't have a television at their apartment. I had an old TV that I wasn't using and I asked if they wanted it. They looked like they were going to cry with gratitude.

While Lupe was playing with the old TV, I grabbed Maria by the hand and snuck out of the room to my bedroom. I pulled her in and locked the door.

As soon as we were alone, Maria hugged me and said, \"I love joo, Jay.\"

\"I know,\" I said and showed her the card. She blushed furiously.

\"You know,\" I said, \"North American girls who love their boyfriends take off their clothes.\"

\"No!\" Maria looked scandalized. I think she was also worried that she didn't understand me.

\"No, no, no... Just to look. They show their boyfriends what they look like so the boys will want to date them. You see?\" Maria looked shocked. She also looked skeptical. But — and maybe it was my imagination acting on hope — but she also looked a little curious.

\"Maybe my English not good. What mean joo?\" she asked. By way of answer, I started unbuttoning her dress in back.

\"No, no, no, no!\" she twisted out of my grasp. \"Girls Mexican no do this,\" She said emphatically. \"Lupe come soon. No, no.\"

I showed her the card again. \"I thought you loved me,\" I said with a hurt look. \"I guess you were lying. No me amas... No es la verdad.\"

\"I no lying,\" she wore a hurt look.

\"Then turn around, before Lupe comes looking for us, and let me see what you look like. I promise I won't touch you.\"

\"Joo promise? No the touch?\" Maria looked torn.

\"I promise, no touching,\" I said and began again to unbutton her dress. In a short while, it slipped down and with a little whimper she let it fall. I unfastened her bra and she whimpered again. I imagined this was killing her, which gave me a big hardon, but she was facing away from me and couldn't see the bulge in my pants. She was holding the bra up, but when I tried to lower her panties, she dropped the bra and used both hands to hold her panties up. I took her hands and drew them up to her head.

\"Like this, see?\" I said, holding her hands together behind her head. Then I bent down and pulled her panties off. She stood there, naked, with her back to me. From behind, she looked pretty good. Her hair could be longer. She'd look good with thick, glossy black hair hanging down past her shoulders. But never mind the hair, she did have a pleasing hourglass shape with a narrow waist and thick hips. Very thick — she could stand to lose a few pounds, but this just made her ass bigger and it was a beautiful, big, round bottom. I really wanted to spank that ass until she cried and then fuck it. 'Ah well, maybe later...' I thought.

I made her turn around, which she did with more whimpering. She looked like she was going to cry, and she was beet red in her face and neck. Her natural skin color was a dark tan. Her breasts were large and ended in large brown areolas with thick brown nipples. I liked nipples and I could imagine sucking on those. I could also imagine pinching them, but I restrained myself because I had promised. She had a bit of a belly. Her bush was a bit thick. If she were my girlfriend, I'd teach her to suck in her gut and introduce her to waxing. But I'd be willing to bet that she'd never heard of wax. I was amazed. She was a true butterface — if you put a bag over her head and she lost several pounds, she'd look like a porn star. I guess if there is a God, her face was proof that he was a dick.

I was inspired to sit down on the bed and lean back a bit and release my hardon, which was uncomfortable in the confines of my jeans. Maria gasped when she saw my member spring forth. \"Dios mio!\" She bent down, maybe to take a closer look? Or maybe she was a natural-born slut?

\"Quiero besos (I need kisses),\" I said and put my hand on her head to guide it to my dick.

\"Aqui? (Here?) No,\" she said pointing at my dick, which I thought was funny. 'Where the fuck else?'

\"If you love me, then give my dick a kiss. Neccessito pene besos,\" I said and pulled her head down to my dick. She was whimpering some more, but she let me guide her head down to my dick, and then she started licking it. Her tongue felt delightful on my dick. I made her lick all the way up and all the way down. Then I made her lick the tip and then put the tip in her mouth.

\"Como se dice eso? (How do you say this?)\" I asked, holding my own tongue.

\"La lengua,\" she said, and smiled the sweetest, shyest smile.

\"Mas lengua,\" I said and she did exactly what I told her, and her hot tongue gliding over the tip of my cock was heavenly.

\"Mira aqui,\" I said (\"look here\"), pointing at my eyes. \"When you suck dick, you look up at the guy. Mira aqui.\" She turned her big dark eyes up at me and I realized that God probably made blowjobs so ugly girls could have sex. After all, in this position, I couldn't see her ugly face, just her eyes which looked beautiful. I guess I could still see that beak of a nose, but it looked smaller from this angle and, most importantly, her mouth on my dick felt great. God sure does work in mysterious ways, and blowjobs are definitely an ugly girl's best friend.

This continued for a few minutes, and I was getting close to cumming. I had my hand on her head now, guiding her to taking my cock deep in her mouth. She was quite a trooper; either this was something she'd done a lot (which I doubted) or she was really dedicated to it. Maybe this girl did love me... And maybe that meant I could get more blowjobs.

But just as I was approaching climax, Lupe started banging on my door. Maria tried to take her head off my cock, but I firmly pushed her head down. \"Don't you dare stop!\" I hissed. \"Mas lengua. Finish what you started. Rapido!\"

After a moment's hesitation, she started vigorously bobbing her head up and down on my dick. I could feel it go down her throat and she gagged a little, but she didn't let up. Her tongue was rubbing hard against my cock when I came in her mouth. She tried jerking her head off again and I held her head down.

\"Come! (Eat!) Come!\" I hissed and grabbing her by the hair, I made her keep bobbing her head. It was glorious. I made her do it for a minute, then I let get up. I took her by the face and made her open her mouth.

\"Donde esta mi (Where is my)... aqua (water),\" I didn't know the Spanish word for cum.

\"Goned!\" she smiled shyly. \"Tragué tu leche. Me encanta el sabor. Uh. Good! Sweet!\" I doubted that she'd really liked it, but she was welcome to all the semen that she wanted to swallow.

Lupe was banging on the door again, and yelling angry Spanish things. Maria turned red again and started putting on her clothes, but I snatched the panties out of her hand. \"Mi panties!\" She looked shocked and surprised.

\"Tu va al casa sin panties,\" I made a little walking symbol with my fingers. \"Our secret... Nuestro chiste,\" I said touching my chest and then hers. \"Lupe no sabes.\" Maria's face broke into a broad smile as she contemplated going home without panties.

\"Ok,\" she said and finished dressing.

Lupe was furious when I opened the door. She was blasting Maria with a steady stream of angry Mexican gibberish, but Maria was haughty. She ignored Lupe, and turned to me.

\"Please to take us to house now Jay,\" Maria said with a smile. So I drove them home. Lupe was silent and, I think, angry. Maria would look over at me from time-to-time but I kept my eyes on the road. Soon we were there and over Lupe's objections, Maria had me drive around the corner and stop in front of a run-down apartment building.

\"Thank joo for a beautifool date, Jay,\" Maria smiled at him. I had to admit, between the darkness of the night and her smile, she looked alright. I could have kissed her if she hadn't just had my sperm in her mouth. Also, Guard Lupe was standing by to put a wet blanket on any intimacies, so I just waved and said \"Thanks for dinner and all. Good night!\" and I drove back home.

* * *

I had to deliver pizzas the next night. As soon as I came in, Lupe came over and lectured me. \"Joo a bad man, Jay. Joo no can see Maria no more.\" Then she turned on her heel and went back into the kitchen. She ignored me the rest of the evening. Maria also kept her distance, but she would make eyes at me each time she could, and once when Lupe was busy she scurried over and quickly kissed my cheek and whispered, \"I love joo Jay. I want make suckjob again for joo!\" But then she had to scurry back before Lupe missed her. It was an unusually busy night, so I didn't get a chance to talk to her again, but while I was driving and later that night after work, I spent a lot of time thinking about how I could get her alone again.

I hatched a plan to keep Lupe busy. My friend John was a cook, and said he'd do me a favor. I'd give him some money and ask him to offer Lupe extra money to cover the rest of his shift. Then, I'd offer to drive Maria home. I doubted that Lupe would pass up bonus money, and it would give me and Maria at least a few hours alone. I went to bed that night thinking about putting that plan into action the next day.

But when I got to work the next day, the place was a mess. All the Mexicans were gone, which meant that Leon was severely short-handed. I pitched in, helping out in the kitchen. The crisis was so bad that Leon was cooking pizzas. In between pies, he told me that \"One of those fucking wetbacks stole a bike and the police caught him. The stupid fuck was riding like a girl's bike! So, then the police thought all the migrants were thieves and they tipped off 'La Migra' who had come and rounded up all the men. The women heard about this and they panicked. They packed up their shit and fled.\" Leon explained. \"So, now I'm fucked because that stupid beaner... Some people are so fucking inconsiderate!\"

I was stunned. Oh, well, I'd have to find my blowjobs elsewhere. I hoped they would be OK.

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