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Tracey Loses Her Passport

Stories about "Tracey", written by various other authors (except Katie)
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Joex
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Tracey Loses Her Passport

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"Must be a bit draughty up there what!"

Tracey Smith bit her lip and self-consciously pulled down her short skirt as far as it would go. She felt herself flush. It was indeed a bit draughty up there and for the twentieth time that day she cursed the fact that she'd not put any panties on.

The trouble was Tracey liked to look good and she felt that tight short skirts showed her off to her best. Truth be told her bottom was really a bit too large to be flattered by such attire, but to Tracey's mind her bottom was her best feature and she felt she had to show it off.

But this skirt had shown panty lines and well - that would never do. So panties had come down and Tracey had trusted to luck.

"Mr Chambers," remonstrated Tracey, "I was showing you my account."

"Yes, I could see that Darling," Freddie Chambers called all girls 'Darling', he supposed they liked it, "...oh you mean these figures. I thought you said... Never mind."

Tracey sighed. Carrying out these audits on the small foreign offices of the company could be difficult. She had been sent especially to 'sort out' Chambers, as her boss had said, and she was determined to do it. She tried to 'power dress' in her short tight skirts, but sometimes things backfired.

Being perched on a stool in a way that made it difficult to keep her legs together was only one of her problems. The other was the awful Chambers.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in John," shouted Chambers to the spotty faced youth who entered, "Miss Smith is just showing us her credentials."

Tracey snapped her legs together, but not quite quickly enough.

"Should I take down her particulars?"

"Oh, I think they've been taken down already..."

Tracey had gone bright red. Had they seen! They must have seen! Trying to hold her legs shut she turned on her little stool and with an awful crash it tipped over depositing poor Tracey on the floor. Legs in the air. Skirt round her waist.

If they hadn't seen before. They certainly had now.

******

It was a flustered and red Tracey that ran through the airport terminal. The day had been a disaster. Sniggering innuendos about 'the bare necessities' and 'getting to the bottom of things' had been the order of the day, and now she had only a few minutes to catch her plane home.

Still, she had told Chambers a thing or two! What she was going to put into her report. Lazy, incompetent, stupid, venal - these were only a few of the choice epithets that she was going to use and Chambers knew it. He could put that in his pipe and wank it!

The airport in Lathuania was small, hot and overcrowded. The queue at the passport control enormous. Tracey sweated and stamped her foot. She was going to miss her flight!

At last she arrived at Passport Control. Two bored looking border police took her passport and that of the woman next to her. They were muttering away in foreign and consulting a large sheet with photographs of undesirables on it. The other woman got her passport back and Tracey tapped her foot.

"Come on hurry up!," she yelled.

The border guard looked at her and scowled.

"Is not you," he said eventually.

"What do you mean. Of course it's me."

She snatched the passport back and stared at the portrait.

"You stupid fools," she shouted, "this is the passport of the woman who has just gone through. You've got them mixed up and given her my passport."

The man scowled again, "Is not you," he repeated.

"Of course it's not me," she could hear the last call for her flight.

"Is not you," the man sounded like an automaton, "Come."

"Well you'd better be quick about it and get my passport back super pronto!" Tracey wasn't putting up with any lip from foreigners!

********

Captain Laszlo Czambas of the Lathuania border police put down the phone.

He barked into his intercom, "Come!"

The door opened to admit those dolts Zoltan and Franck pushing a rather hot and bothered young lady in front of them.

Tracey Smith! Chambers owed him one!

He looked her up and down admiringly. Chambers had been right. She was his type. Captain Czambas had little time for skinny British girls, but this one was different. A bit of meat on her. A bit of spirit as well. He liked that - a bit of spirit.

"Sit down Miss er...," he consulted the passport, "Pettigrew."

"I'm not Miss Pettigrew," stormed Tracey, about to give him an earful about stupid border guards.

"So you admit it eh?" Czambas interrupted her, "do you know Miss Pettigrew, that it is a criminal offence to attempt to leave this country on a false passport?"

"I'm Tracey Smith," yelled Tracey, "and these fools..."

"Silence!" Czambas was looking up Tracey's skirt, "am I right in thinking that you are not wearing, what do you say in the English, knickers? Is that it Miss Smith. Are you not wearing the knickers."

The wind was knocked out of Tracey's sails. Oh why had she left her panties off today of all days! Too painfully aware of her pantie-less condition her remonstrating turned to mumbling.

"No," she muttered.

"Speak up Miss Smith."

"No. I'm not wearing knickers," blurted Tracey, too embarrassed to deny it.

"I see," Czambas was beginning to enjoy himself, "and tell me Miss Smith what am I to make of a young lady who tries to leave the country illegally, who wears such short tight skirts, and who does not wear the knickers?”

“Oh! Oh dear!” said Tracey, things were not looking so good for her.

“I tell you what I make of it Miss Smith. I think it is the act of a young lady who comes to our country, our honest upright country, to trade her personal charms for money. That’s what I make of it Miss Smith.”

“No, no! I’m a respectable business woman. Ring Mr Chambers at our local office. He’ll tell you!”

“We shall see Miss Smith. Meanwhile we must carry out a thorough search.”

“W.. what do you mean?” the thought of a thorough search was making Tracey worried.

“I mean Miss Smith, you are to go into this adjoining room, remove all your clothes and push them through the aperture you will find in the wall so that we may search."

“Oh.. yes,” poor Tracey was so relieved that she went through into the brightly lit little room. It was quite small with a table, a chair and a nice big mirror in the wall so that she could get dressed smartly when she was finished. So Tracey thought.

In his office Captain Czambas slid back the panel in the wall so that they could watch Tracey undressing through the two way mirror. It was an important part of protocol, he explained to his men, so that she did not try to conceal anything about, as he politely put it, her person.

He looked on expectation as Tracey unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her capacious brassiere. Her plump breasts with their big juicy nipples and wide areolas spilled out. The men licked their lips. This was the sort of girl they liked in Lathuania. Plenty of nice firm flesh to squeeze.

Tracey was admiring herself in the mirror as she unzipped her skirt and wriggled out of it. She turned round and bent over to roll down her stockings. She stopped suddenly. She had heard a faint sound coming from the office. Almost like cheers or applause. She shook her head. They must be watching a football match or something.

Captain Czambas quietened his men down. True, a magnificent behind like that merited a degree of applause, but there was entertainment to be had yet. They watched as Tracey pushed her clothes through the hole in the wall and slipped on the gown.

“Okay,” said Captain Czambas, “Let’s go.”

Tracey looked round nervously. She had put on the robe but wasn't sure what to do next. She felt very naked underneath it. Suddenly the door flew open and she jumped back with a start as that awful man in the uniform marched in.

How had he known she was dressed. What if he'd come in a few seconds earlier.

"Excuse me!" she said, "what if I'd had no clothes on!"

"So?"

"Well. I wouldn't want you to see me in the nude," Tracey was starting to regain a bit of her confidence.

Captain Czambas smiled. He liked them feisty. It made their final submission even better.

"That is a pity Miss Smith. Take off your robe!"

"What! I thought you just wanted to search my clothes!"

"Did I give that impression. I'm so sorry. What we want to search is you."

"But you can't. I mean... Didn't you ring Mr Chambers. Didn't he vouch for me!"

"Ah yes Mr Chambers. Apparently you storm into his company pretending to come from his head office and proceed to display yourself in the most lewd and provocative manner."

"But.." all Tracey's new found composure vanished.

"Did you not storm into his company Miss Smith?"

"Yes but..."

"Did you not claim to be from his head office?"

"Yes but..."

"Did you not display yourself in the most lewd and provocative manner?"

"Yes but..."

"I rest my case. Take off the robe Miss Smith."

Tracey was totally deflated. She accepted the inevitable. The robe dropped to the ground and poor Tracey stood nude, red faced and knock kneed, one arm across her chest and one hiding her vagina.

"Can't you find a woman to search me?"

"Why of course," Czambas barked into his intercom.

"Emilia, can you come in please."

The door opened and Tracey looked round to see a tall dark haired girl in a smart blue uniform.

“Can I introduce Emilia, Miss Smith. She will conduct the search.”

“What search?” Tracey stuttered. Emilia was pulling on a rubber glove. It was apparent exactly what was going to be searched.

“No. Please.” Tracey backed away, but it was no good. Strong arms seized her and she was forcibly bent over the table, her little legs kicking impotently in the air. With a growing certainty of what was to come she felt the cheeks of her bottom separated.

Then the door to the room opened and a figure came in. A figure which might perhaps have brought hope to Tracey’s heart, but somehow she knew not.

***********

Mr Chambers whistled happily to himself. His plans to see to Tracey were coming to a happy conclusion. Ringing old Czambas had been a brainwave. He would manufacture some way to detain Tracey. Then! All the way to the airport he had imagined Tracey’s bottom, exposed, pink, vulnerable, waiting.

Lazy! Incompetent,! He’d give her Lazy and incompetent! Tracey had insulted him and her bottom was going to pay the price!

If the bottom of his imagination had been delightful, how much more was the bottom in person, presented to his view in all its glory as he entered the room. Tracey’s rear orifice was indeed a delight to behold. Pink, round and nice and tight. Waiting expectantly for his instructions.

“Ah! Mr Chambers,” said the Captain at the entry of his old friend, “Is this the young lady that you warned us about.”

“It certainly is Captain. Though that is a view of her I had not yet had the pleasure of seeing.”

“Mr Chambers! Help,” Tracey was mortified at the view she was presenting to him. Her bottom might have been her best feature, but she hadn't imagined it featuring quite like this!

“Shall we ask Emilia to proceed Mr Chambers?” Czambas paid no attention to her shrieks.

“I think we shall and Emilia…”

“Yes Mr Chambers,” Emilia spoke in a strong guttural accent.

“Get me out of here Chambers. Tell them who I am!” Tracey was desperate. Chambers was going to pay for this.

“You're the girl who indecently displayed herself in my office," Chambers smirked, "Two fingers I think Emilia. You need to be very thorough.”

Poor Tracey pinned down on the table could only shriek louder as she felt the fingers up against her tight little hole.

Chambers went round to face her. Tracey looked up, her face hot and red.

"Right Emilia," he said, "Go!"

And as Tracey felt the fingers pushed right up her bottom Chambers slapped her face hard.

"Lazy," he said.

*Slap*

He slapped her face again and Tracey felt the fingers withdraw and push up again..

"Incompetent"

*Slap*

The fingers went up again.

"Stupid"

*Slap*

And with each slap Emilia pushed her fingers up harder.

"Venal"

*Slap*

One last push and it was over. The fingers were out and, chastened and sore bottomed, poor Tracey stood up. Chambers would pay for this when she got back. Chambers was going to pay big time.

"Can I go now," she said, trying to regain some of her old spirit.

"Go? Go where?" Czambas looked puzzled, "Where can you go Miss Smith? You have no money. You have no passport. You have...," and he looked round the room, "...no clothes. Records show that you boarded the 18.30 plane to London. They will look for you there."

"But... But..." Tracey looked wildly round in alarm, "what's going to happen to me."

"Ah. We have an excellent correctional institution for, how do you say in English, wayward girls. Those that like to disport themselves naked. The girls are naked all the time, but then the prison governors like that, don't we Mr Chambers."

"We do indeed, Captain, we do indeed," And Chambers smiled with satisfaction as the naked Tracey was handcuffed and led away.
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