By Kinkabella
Archived Here With Her Kind Permission

When I first started writing for the game [ White Slave Universe ], I forgot to read the rules and so my first story (White Slave Universe - The Unpublished Chapter) wasn't ever used in the series and it remains in a draft form. Character details are, however, mostly correct for my character. In all subsequent parts I wrote for the White Slave Universe, I identified them as Case#802120.

I'm English-born and was raised the old fashioned way by upper class parents with strict morals and the attitude that I should get a good education, marry well, and live the life I was born to. I got the best education money could buy at an exclusive girls' school, then twelve months at a Swiss "finishing school" and finally university degrees in Arts and Librarianship. However, I fell in love with and married a man my parents considered a "commoner" and my relationship with them has been strained ever since. Things were made worse when I moved to live in the US with him, although the distance and sheer lack of their constant meddling in my life has been good for me.

One aspect of my upbringing I haven't been able to shake, despite the best efforts of my husband to "liberate me", is my innately quiet and polite manner. I don't consider myself to be a snob at all, and I really try hard not to appear aloof as many people mistakenly think I am purely because of my accent and mannered, conservative ways. I am not terribly confident in social situations either where I have to interact with strangers, except at work where I am the manager of a large bookstore.

Living in America has opened my eyes to many things, as has my husband, but I still wouldn't say I'm very worldly in any way. I'm more comfortable letting people think I'm "sweet and innocent" and I've rarely had anybody challenge me to the contrary. Except for my husband, and it was he who first introduced me to bondage and BDSM. It's become a pleasurably guilty secret we share -- more so for me than him, as he's always been very candid and open about the sexual things he enjoys.

I still remember the shock I felt when I first heard about the White Slave Act of 2000 being passed into law. It was a funny, tingling sort of shock that at once horrified me and at the same time made me think strangely fond thoughts of a bygone age back home in England. My own parents had even employed nannies for me when I was young and there was also a maid who kept our house in order. I even vaguely remembered my father once threatened to take a cane to the maid to punish her for something, but she resigned shortly afterward and I never so much as heard her name mentioned again.

My husband, on the other hand, made no attempt to conceal his joy at news of the new law, although he didn't immediately begin to suggest he had any desires to see me enslaved by anybody but him. When he did start to drop subtle hints of this, they were more playful threats that he would use the "Commitment by Relative" provision unless I surrendered to his every whim. For the most part, I had always submitted and done whatever he asked and so nothing really changed. Even before the Slave Act became law, I had sucked my husband's cock on a couple of occasions, although it wasn't something I ever initiated myself. More often than not he simply forced himself onto me when I was tied up and it wasn't so much me sucking his cock as him using my mouth for his own dark pleasures. What did change was the way he clearly became extra aroused when he demanded I suck him under threat of being sold into slavery unless I did exactly what he wanted. I remember one time particularly vividly.

It was around Christmas of 2000 and we had invited a couple of neighbors around for drinks and dinner. The Slave Act, naturally, came up in conversation and the men, including my husband, spoke enthusiastically about the way in which it had spiced up their sex lives. It was a conversation that deeply embarrassed me and the other wives there who were forced to listen as details of our most private sexual activities were openly discussed and compared. Worse was when my husband admitted in front of everybody that my cock-sucking skills "left a lot to be desired." I was stunned and shocked, not least because I always felt I pleased him. But apparently not and he ignored my red-faced pleading looks of distress and talked about me like I wasn't even in the room. I even remember the smirks of smug satisfaction on the faces of the women who claimed to be my friend, and this probably more than anything, hurt the most.

When the topic of conversation did finally change, it was only to discuss the strip clubs that now offered "enslave your bitch and get free drinks" specials. Again, the men were obviously delighted although my husband less so because he appeared to be the only man present whose wife hadn't been sold on one of these nights. It was my time to look smugly at the other women, but any perverse satisfaction about their misfortunes quickly evaporated when the men turned their attention to me and started to hypothesize about whether or not I could have been sold for more than their wives. Things went from bad to worse when the men collectively decided to conduct a mini-auction of their own right there in my living room!

The other women by this stage began to develop jealous looks in their eyes but none said a word when one of the men directed them to "prepare" me for auction. In fact, they even seemed to know what this meant without any further instruction and before I could do anything to defend myself, two of them had already grabbed me by my wrists and dragged me from my seat to stand in the middle of the room. The third woman's hands were suddenly all over me. She roughly stripped the clothes from my body and discarded all of them, except for my pantyhose which she ripped in two and used to bind my wrists behind my back and my ankles together.

I'm sure I protested loudly, but it didn't make any difference. The bids started low and quickly escalated -- every eye in the room now fixed on me. I squirmed and blushed, aware of a familiar sensation of sexual arousal that now washed over my naked body and caused my flesh to prickle with a rash of goose bumps. My nipples also grew uncontrollably stiff as my stomach knotted and tightened with every bid. As the bids climbed and passed the $100 mark, one of the men dropped out and then another. When the bids reached $150, my husband said nothing and let it hang in the air between us. The man who made the bid grinned broadly and rose triumphantly from his chair. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small handful of crumpled notes. As he counted, my husband climbed out of his chair and walked over to me.

My whole body trembled with a mix of dread and breathless anticipation. The man dropped his cash one note at a time onto the coffee table until finally, he announced the total as being correct. My husband leaned close, whispered into my ear and told me to look closely at the money on the table. "It's a lot of money," he said. I stared at the cash and gravely nodded my head. "Do you think I should accept his bid?"

My heart skipped a beat at the prospect. A voice in my head screamed "no!" but it failed to materialize in my mouth.

"If you say yes, that's it. The deal will be done."

I was mute.

"I'll give you a minute to think about it," my husband added to seize the moment of my indecision.

With that, the man started to walk around me as if to consider his new purchase -- me. My heart thumped heavily in my chest and caused the veins in my temples to throb.

"You'd like me to sell you to him, wouldn't you?" my husband asked.

I began to feel an overwhelming urge to say "yes" and could tell by the way my husband asked that he sensed my desire to surrender. I could feel the presence of the man as he now stood behind me. The sudden touch of his large, warm hands being placed gently on my hips stole my breath.

"You'd be his slave, to do with whatever he wanted."

"Yes," I whispered.

"What was that?" my husband asked.

"I mean, no."

The words croaked in my throat. "No," I repeated after I swallowed a hard lump of nerves.

"No? You mean, you want me to raise my last bid?"

There was one final brief pause for thought before I answered, "Yes."

It was difficult to tell whether or not my husband was happy with my answer, but he accepted it and then asked the man how much more money he had. After another quick count of the remainder of his money, including coins, he indicated he could go as high as $198 and 75 cents. My husband eyed me once again before he flashed one last curious look at me and then pulled his wallet from his pocket. He counted out $195 and then, after a theatrical flourish of his hand, added another crisp $5 bill and handed it to the man.

The other women suddenly laughed and sniggered, as did their husbands, mine included. I felt momentarily confused and just stood there with my mouth open, unsure of what the joke was. Even after it was explained to me that I had been set up and that it had all been an elaborate prank played at my expense, I still couldn't get over the powerful rush of excitement that continued to surge through me. I wasn't, however, immediately untied and my husband gently forced me down onto my knees. I panicked when I saw him unzip his jeans and release his fully erect cock for all to see.

"Not here!" I whispered urgently, but it quickly became apparent that the other three women were already dropped to their knees -- their hands vigorously attacking the belt buckles and zippers of their husbands' jeans to release yet more hard cocks.

I glanced up over my husband's solid cock and into his eyes. There was an unmistakable sparkle in them as he silenced the protest I was about to make with his cock, suddenly pushed into my open mouth.

My mouth instantly flooded with saliva and the distinct taste of pre-cum juices that already seeped from my husband's cock. I swallowed quickly and gulped air through my nostrils to breathe. I could hear other loud slurps and sucks behind me as well as soft, throaty moans of pleasure from the men. As I sucked, my thoughts wandered from the task and to the comments my husband had made about my cocksucking skills. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine exactly what he wanted. My lips tightened slightly to form a firm "O" shape and I pressed my face forward until I could take no more of him in my mouth. The sudden sound of mumbled encouragement from my husband convinced me I had done something good, and I moaned a little myself as if to acknowledge his reassurance. I pulled back slightly and sucked his cock dry of my saliva as I did so then again pushed my mouth hard against his thick cock.

After two or three similar motions, my husband began to respond more energetically. I could feel his hips thrust his cock forward to meet my lips; a rhythmic, slightly unsteady jerk forward that almost choked me each time I took him deeply. My entire body felt warm with a glow of perverse delight when I felt my husband's cock twitch in my mouth. I could tell by his short, shallow breaths and deep grunts that his ejaculation wasn't far away, and I redoubled my efforts to please him. At first, the loud moans I began to hear sounded as if they came from outside me, but I soon realized the harsh, animalistic sounds were in fact being made by me. It was an alien sound I'd never experienced before, and it alarmed me but I couldn't quiet myself. I struggled in my bonds; a desperate need to touch myself and push myself over my own orgasmic edge. I could feel one climax after another strike every nerve ending in my body, especially in my clit, but still I wanted more. I was oblivious to the sounds of other orgasms as they exploded in the room around me or of the vulgar names the men called their wives.

A hand unexpectedly grabbed my hair and pressed my face hard into my husband's crotch. My eyes snapped open and I glanced sideways to see one of the woman who had now knelt beside me. She raised her other hand to my face but I wasn't sure what she was about to do until I felt it press against my cheek. It was covered with jism and she proceeded to wipe it all over my face and through my hair. Another woman kneeled on my other side and did the same thing with yet more filthy slime harvested from her husband's cock. The pungent stench of men's cum filled my nose; the smear of jism that now covered my face and forehead quickly became cool and set hard like a freakish beauty mask.

I continued to suck hard on my husband's cock but couldn't bring myself to look up into his eyes. The third woman's hand then pressed between my face and my husband's crotch. It was too close to properly focus on, but I could smell the extremely bold odor of more fresh cum. Her hand was balled into a small fist; the soft skin between her thumb and forefinger gently pressed against my nose while the hand that gripped my hair tugged back on my head to extract my mouth from my husband's cock.

My eyes became transfixed on the woman's hand under my nose as she slowly masturbated my husband's cock. She concentrated on the dark pink tip of it and coated it liberally with jism collected from her husband's cock. Satisfied she'd wiped her hand clean, my head was then roughly pushed forward again. My mouth instinctively opened to accept my husband's cock. Saliva quickly formed again but this time the salty taste of cum was unmistakable when I swallowed. I was aware the crude jokes the woman started to make -- jokes to suggest that the taste of another man's cum made me a better cocksucker -- and the humiliation of this aroused me and made me more eager to please my husband. Within a minute, my mouth flooded with an unexpected rush of hot, thick liquid and I hungrily swallowed as quickly as I could.

The rest of the night passed relatively uneventfully, although I wasn't permitted to get dressed or wash my face and hair until after our guests had gone home. By that time my husband was well and truly ready again for sex, and even though there wasn't any bondage involved again, my husband took me roughly and energetically while he whispered what sounded like real desires to now sell me for real and I loved every second of it.

My husband's business started to take him away from home on frequent occasions throughout 2001 and into 2002. Each time he returned home, which was usually for no more than weekends at a time, he'd tease me with questions about whether or not I had remained faithful to him while he was away. Of course, I had, but I knew he liked to hear me say otherwise and so I played the game. I even once pretended I had made application to become a slave under the "Volunteer" option provided in the White Slave Market Act, which made him laugh hard. I laughed along with him until I realized my silly joke had put a terrible idea into his head. I'd no sooner spoken than my husband ordered me to get ready to go out. I tried to apologize and even offered to give him a blow job if he changed his mind, but his mind was made up. The suggestion that he might have me committed against my will almost seemed an easier option, but I finally surrendered.

I went to my room accompanied by my husband, who sat on the bed and gave instructions as to what clothes I should wear. I wasn't entirely surprised when he told me to put on my short, tight-fitting black dress and four inch heels -- it's my favorite outfit, but it didn't feel appropriate to wear it out in broad daylight, especially without underwear. But I accepted my husband's choice without argument and even felt a shiver of delight at the first touch of the cold, smooth lycra of the dress against my nude body. My husband then instructed me to fix my makeup and hair, which I did. When I represented myself for inspection, my husband nodded his approval and then told me to turn around.

When he asked me to hold up my hair so he could put something around my neck, I thought he was about to surprise me with some new jewelry. I was half-right, except it wasn't a necklace of diamonds or pearls. Instead, he snapped a cold steel collar around my neck which, he said, could only be removed by him. I was curious to see what it looked like but first, there was one more "accessory" my husband said he had for me to wear. He told me to bend over and put my hands on the bed, which I did, but only reluctantly once I realized what he was about to do.

I immediately recognized the silver egg -- about the size of an elongated billiard ball, designed to be inserted vaginally. It's a fiendish toy with a vibrator function that can be activated simply by anybody who knows the phone number for it. My husband bought it so he could control my orgasms when he was away on his business trips, and it certainly made his nightly phone calls wonderfully enjoyable. But to wear it out anywhere? I closed my eyes and held my breath as he gently pushed the cold, smooth ball deeply into my pussy. A quick test of it instantly made me squirm in pleasure and I might have even orgasmed on the spot if my husband hadn't quickly ended his phone call to the egg.

Throughout the short drive to the local branch office of the White Slave Marketing Bureau, neither of us said anything. I stared absently out at the surroundings as they passed by, aware of the weight of the egg lodged deep in my pussy and of my bare ass on the car seat. I daydreamed about lots of things but mostly about the intended destination and the possibility that my husband might force me to volunteer. Even though I'd read lots of reports about slavers in the newspapers and heard stories from various "friends of friends" who had been enslaved, I still had no real idea of what to expect. For me, it was a journey into a complete unknown, and it frightened me. I could feel the palms of my hands become moist with perspiration. Strangely, despite my fears, my pussy also started to leak and I became acutely aware of the scent of my own arousal inside the car.

I had expected the offices to be housed in a regular government complex but instead, it turned out the office was situated at the back of a strip club called the Azure Veil. My husband found a park and he flashed me a toothy grin and wink when he told me to get out of the car. My knees felt suddenly weak as I stepped from the car and smoothed down the hem of my smooth dress. The car park was largely deserted, except for a few expensive foreign vehicles parked in "reserved" spaces right beside the back door to the club.

"Ready?" my husband asked.

I took a deep breath and tried to smile. "Yes."

The walk across to the door wasn't easy and each step required a conscious effort to make. I had to call on all my deportment skills learned years before -- one foot in front of the other; heel to toe, heel to toe. My husband also set a brisk pace which didn't make matters any easier. A security camera above the door whirred into life as we neared, and it angled itself down to watch when my husband pressed a buzzer. He announced himself and, after the sound of a metal latch click, the door opened. A tall, muscled man with a bald head and waxed handlebar mustache stood before us. He had a very pleasant manner in spite of his physically imposing appearance and he asked what business we had at the club. My husband casually explained that I had expressed an interest in their slave volunteer program -- an interest that plainly made the doorman's eyes light up, I noticed -- and he invited us inside. My husband thanked him and I put my head down and followed him bravely inside.

We were directed to a reception counter where a young, sparrow-boned girl with angular features sat busy with a stack of papers on her desk. She briefly peered up at us, smiled. My husband again quickly explained the reason for our visit and the receptionist pointed him in the direction of a pile of volunteer application forms on small table in the corner of the room.

"Have you been tested?" the young woman asked.

I looked to my husband to explain.

"Drug test. All slaves are required undertake a drug test and one for STDs," she continued.

I shook my head but still didn't fully understand what she meant.

"No," my husband answered for me.

"Well, you'll need to pee into this for me," the girl said and she placed a small plastic container with a screw-top lid on the counter.

Things started to get very surreal for me from this point. At first, I refused to accept the container until my husband gave his approval, at which point the receptionist directed me to the bathrooms located through a door that led to the public area of the strip club.

"Just a minute, hon," the receptionist called me before I reached the door.

"Hmm?"

"Slaves aren't allowed inside the club unless they're naked. Unless, of course, they intend to strip on stage."

I froze as he words sunk in. There was a number of closed circuit television monitors on the wall above the door in front of me. One image appeared to be fixed on a largish stage with a blue backdrop that looked like tinsel curtains. It was deserted and almost in complete darkness. Another television showed the bar area. There was two or three men at the bar and a third television revealed the club to be otherwise empty. I wanted to explain to her that I wasn't yet a slave, but I could already sense my husband about to speak for me.

"She'd love to strip on stage," he said.

My eyes narrowed into a look of disapproval at my husband but he had already turned his attention to one of the slave volunteer forms. I continued to stand there for a long moment and hoped he'd give me the opportunity to plead against his decision, but it quickly became clear I had no option but to do as I was told. In any case, I would ultimately be seen naked by those inside the club and so it all seemed like a fete accompli.

"She would? Great!" the receptionist said in a tone that was pleasant but unsurprised. "Tony here will escort you to the stage and explain a few of the house rules to you before you begin."

Tony, the doorman who had met us, walked casually over to me invited me to follow him. He pressed a button beside the door to release its lock and I nervously followed him along a long, narrow corridor dimly lit with discreetly hidden red lighting to another door at the other end. He stopped there and turned to me.

"All dancers are required to perform for a minimum of ten minutes on the stage, in which time they are expected to have stripped completely. A further ten minutes is then to be danced on the catwalk where patrons may request a lap dance by placing $20 down in front of you. You'll find a chair provided for this purpose at the end of the catwalk and a leather pouch behind it in which to place any money you collect. Are you following?"

I nodded slowly and tried to digest all the information.

"Good. If you get requests for lap dances, and I'm sure a pretty gal like you will, you are to go down into the audience and escort the gentlemen back to the catwalk chair. Each lap dance should last for approximately two minutes and while patrons aren't permitted any form of penetration with the dancers, they usually expect to have their cocks pulled out and played with so they don't cum in their pants."

As if all of this wasn't enough to remember, Tony had one last instruction.

"There's not many people in the bar right now, but it's still customary for dancers to spend a few minutes after their routine at the bar where patrons have the opportunity to talk with them and get to know them. OK?"

My mind was by now a fog of confusion, but I nodded that I understood anyway. "Strip on stage, lap dance on catwalk, and mingle at the bar," I said, more to myself than the doorman.

"Good gal!" he replied and then pushed the button to unlock the final door. "Just wait here for a sec while I go and introduce you."

I stood where Tony told me to stand and watched as he climbed the side steps to the stage and called out for the barman to give him some light. A single, bright beam of light soon cut through the smoke haze of the bar and reflected off Tony's bald head.

"Gentlemen," he said as he squinted into the light. "Gentlemen, we have a new slave to introduce you to today. Her name is -- "

Tony held his hand like a visor over his eyes and stared in my direction. "What's your name, slave?"

It felt strange to hear him refer to me as "slave" and I briefly felt I would have been more comfortable if he just left it at that, but he pressed for an answer. "Ingrid," I mumbled back at him.

"The Azure Veil club is very pleased to present to you -- Ingrid!"

And with that, the room suddenly reverberated with a short fanfare of trumpets before it settled into a loud beat was fast as furious. The noise didn't exactly move me into action but I let my body fall into the rhythm of it as I climbed the stairs to the stage. I had always enjoyed to dance and the one regret of my marriage was the fact my husband didn't share this passion of mine. For some inexplicable reason, I suddenly thought of him in the office out the back -- a cheerful look of "I told you to be careful of what you wish for" on his face as he watches me take to the stage.

Luckily, the bright spotlight made it impossible to see anyone or anything beyond the foot of the stage, and I listlessly slithered in the most seductive way I could imagine around a golden pole positioned just off to one side of the stage. The worst thing was I could feel my face set in an expression of dread. I'd never seen a strip show before and had no idea what I should do. Should I smile? Be pouty, like a glamour model? Seductive vamp? Nothing felt right, but I continued to gyrate slowly around the pole and pretended I knew what to do. A couple of wolf whistles -- in itself, a new experience for me -- encouraged me to attempt a smile. I felt stupid, but it was better, I thought, than the grim expression I knew would become fixed forever on my face if I didn't change it.

A small, awkward smile eventually made its way to my face and gave me confidence when I started to slowly rub the smooth fabric of my short black dress. The silky touch under my hand felt good, although I still kept one arm clamped defensively around the pole for support. I embraced myself with one arm and leaned back slightly. The rhythm of the music continued to pound loudly -- hypnotically -- and I closed my eyes to absorb its primitive beat. My arm that had clenched the pole so tightly slowly relaxed its grip and I gripped it now with both hands and bent over slightly to reveal a peek of my bare ass to the audience.

It was while in this position that I suddenly felt the egg in my pussy vibrate furiously. Once; twice; three times is buzzed and I immediately straightened up and hugged the pole tightly with both arms. The vibrations stopped, but not for long. When they resumed I instantly squirmed and shivered. My hips gyrated and my hands rushed to push down the front hem of my dress. I clamped my thighs together and reveled in the sensations caused by the vibrations in my pussy. The smile I had managed to make soon became what I felt sure was now a look of tortured pleasure.

Tony stood in the wings and I could hear him tell me to hurry up and take off something. I felt dizzy and light headed but my hands grabbed hold of my dress and I slowly raised it in one movement until it slipped over my head and I could lower my arms. Wolf whistles and cat calls filled the room behind me as I wrestled the dress from my arms. The buzz in my pussy stopped for a second and left me suddenly still and with my mouth limply open in expectation of another call. I stretched and pulled the dress completely from my arms and threw it haphazardly to the floor at the back of the stage. I cautiously lifted one foot from the floor and pulled off one of my heels. It dropped with a thud to the flood that couldn't be heard above the loud music. Again the egg started to vibrate furiously.

It was like an itch that I couldn't scratch or ignore. I reached for my other shoe and slipped out of it. Now, completely naked, I hugged the pole tightly with both arms and wrapped one leg around it as well. The egg's vibrations drove me crazy. I desperately wanted to grind my pussy against the pole and succeeded to a degree, but it wasn't enough. Frustrated, I loosened my grip on the pole and let gravity pull me slowly to the floor. I squatted and tried again without success to rub my pussy against the pole.

I caught a glimpse of Tony in the corner of my eye. He waved his arms in a signal for me to turn around and face the audience. It was impossible for me to think clearly with the incessant vibrations in my pussy. My thoughts reeled as my wanton pleasure grabbed every sense. The pole now felt slippery in my hands and my grip slowly slipped until I was forced to let go and lie down on my back. The position was much better to properly rub my swollen clit, and I squirmed in rapture, aware that my juices would be clearly evident on the pole but blissfully unconcerned about whether or not anybody would notice.

"Lap dance!" Tony's voice broke into my delirium.

I reluctantly inched myself away from the pole and rolled onto my stomach. I could see shadowy silhouettes of men in chairs around the catwalk and the glow of broad grins, but that was all. It took all my effort, but I climbed onto all fours and crawled out along the catwalk. There was six or seven men and each had placed cash down in front of them. My eyes refused to focus properly, but as I got close I could tell all of them had hungry looks in their eyes. I scooped up the first man's ten dollar bills and slowly rolled off the cat walk in front of him. He needed no encouragement to follow me around and up the stairs at the front of the catwalk but others cheered him anyway.

The man's grizzled features became apparent under the harsh light of the spotlight after he'd settled himself onto the lap dance chair. He was fifty-ish with hair that sat in a shock of untamed gray on his head. Despite his appearance, I straddled his thighs and wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands reached for my hips and I barely resisted as he forced me to sit on his lap. There was no way to mistake his arousal. A large solid bulge in his loose fitting trousers rose like a tent pole from his loins and pressed firmly against my pussy. He pulled me tight and wriggled under me. It occurred to me that his cock, despite it still confined in his trousers, had actually managed to penetrate me a little. I moaned softly and did nothing to escape his cock's discreet burial in my pussy. He whispered obscenely in my ear with words of his perverted intentions for me. I whimpered and responded with a tighter grip of my arms around his neck. With my face now close to his and my mouth close to his ear, I whispered the fact his cock was already inside me.

I'd no sooner said this than the egg in my pussy started to vibrate wildly again. Its pleasurable actions didn't go unnoticed by the man nor mine, when I instantly started to squirm and moan loudly in his ear. His cock must have been deep enough inside me to press against the egg because I could now feel its thick rigid shaft echo the vibrations directly against my clit. The pleasure of this was intense and I whimpered breathlessly as I grinded my pussy harder onto his cock. In fact, it was so intense I found myself almost in sobs as I confessed I was very close to orgasm.

The man continued to whisper crude things to me and promised to fuck me soundly one day soon, and in every hole. All I could say in response was "yes!" and I raised my feet from the floor so I could clamp my thighs tightly against the man's hips while he bucked up beneath me.

He suddenly stopped and demanded I get off his cock. It didn't register at first what he wanted until he grunted he needed his cock to be pulled out and, in his words, "sucked dry."

My head spun with a brief bout of dizziness as I climbed off his cock. I looked down at where I'd sat and the shape of his large cock was now clearly visible and defined by a wetness that indicated how much of it he'd had in my pussy. He made more urgent demands for me to release his cock, which I quickly did, but he had already started to ejaculate and all I could think to do was aim it away so it splashed to the floor between his feet.

"Suck it! Suck it!" he cursed, but it was too late. "Kneel between my legs and suck it!"

My hands remained tightly wrapped around his pulsing cock and his hands locked around my wrists. I squealed at the pain of his grip -- a squeal that immediately brought Tony to my rescue.

"You know the rules, Jack," Tony said. "No cocksucking from the slaves unless you own them. Understood?"

The man's grip relaxed and a crooked smile returned to his weather face. "Yeah," he grumbled.

"I'm done now anyway."

I continued to tremble even after the man had climbed down from the stage and wandered over to the bar. The thought that a man like him could possibly "own" me one day sent a chill down my spine.

The remainder of the men I had to lap dance for weren't nearly as creepy as the first. One even seemed almost disinterested in what I was doing and, try as I might, I don't believe he even had a full erection. This concerned me quite a bit and I feared I would fail entirely until he whispered the suggestion of what he really enjoyed.

"That's it," he said as I kneeled on the seat of the lap dance chair with my bare ass provocatively thrust back at him. "Don't be afraid -- I'm not about to penetrate you."

It was an odd reassurance because he seemed so genuinely nice that I didn't think for a moment he was the type who would break the rules and even more odd, I felt a peculiar desire for him to break a few.

I attempted to look over my shoulder to see what he was about to do, and saw that he'd stripped naked, but he told me turn my head back and close my eyes. I remained in position with my forehead rested on my folded arms on the back of the chair, unsure of what to expect. When he did finally straddle my legs, it was to position his cock between my thighs. It was undoubtedly hard now, and big. So big in fact that by the time he had pressed his stomach close to my upturned ass, a good two or three inches of his cock protruded out the front of my thighs. My clit tingled in response to a few sporadic buzzes from the egg and the sensations caused by his cock shaft as it simulated a very slow and sensuous sexual motion against my pussy.

"Reach down and hold my cock," he said quietly.

I sheepishly dropped a hand between my legs.

"Both hands," he added.

My other hand joined the first and together they gently caressed the dangerously large end of his cock. I felt the weight of his naked body mold against my back and he gently pushed my head until I was looking down over the back of the lap dance chair.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered another reassurance.

I wasn't particularly afraid at all until I felt something being lowered over my neck. I immediately panicked but his quiet words to remain calm relaxed me a little bit.

"It's just a little wooden yoke to hold you in this position. You won't be hurt by it."

My heart raced again when I realized the thing was being locked in place. It wasn't tight around my neck but it wasn't so large either that I could pull my head free.

"There. That's not so bad, is it?" he asked.

"No," I mumbled. "But --"

I wasn't sure what I wanted to say except that I now felt especially vulnerable and defenseless, and it was a thoroughly delicious thought.

His cock again started to slowly rub up between my legs. My hands blindly struggled to keep hold of it and masturbate him with sympathetic pushes and pulls. It was difficult to ignore the sheer size of his cock or not to imagine it inside my pussy. Right on cue, the egg vibrated violently and caused me to wiggle my ass. I bit my lip to hold back a very loud moan of pleasure and cupped the tip of the large cock in the palm of my hand. I held it tightly and made subtle attempts to deflect it into my quivering pussy. It made me blush when the man, obviously aware of my discreet intentions, told me not to rush him.

"All in good time," he whispered.

I eased the pressure of my resistance and again took hold of his cock and masturbated him vigorously. He sounded very agreeable and stopped the gently thrusts of his hips to allow me more easily manipulate his cock in my hands. "You're so big!" I said, unable to contain my thoughts any longer.

"Yes," he replied. There didn't sound like there was any false modesty in his tone. "And your asshole looks so fresh and pink."

I blushed as I felt his fingers spread my ass cheeks.

"It will look very nice with my cock in it!"

I gripped his cock tightly at the thought.

"Yes, a beautiful, tight little ass -- and such a sensitive anus."

His fingers lightly touched my asshole and I sensed it tense slightly. It was a reflex response that repeated every time he touched me there. I masturbated his cock more rapidly to try and take my mind off my asses unintentional winks at him.

"Does the thought excite you? The thought of my cock in your lovely ass?"

The slippery sensation of pre-cum in my hands made me aware of how much the thought obviously aroused him, and I wanted to confess the thought terrified me but I wasn't totally against the idea.

"It does?" He didn't wait for my answer and suddenly withdrew his hard cock from between my thighs. "My cock, in your ass?"

I gasped loudly when I felt the hard, warm tip of his cock press between my ass cheeks. "No!"

"No? I don't believe you," he laughed softly.

"Please!" I felt suddenly afraid. "Please, your cock is too big!"

"I'd have to use a lot of lube then, wouldn't I?"

I reluctantly agreed but still begged him not to penetrate my ass.

"Are you sure? Not even just a little poke?"

I could feel increased pressure against my tautly puckered anus.

"No!" I cried out.

"I've got plenty of lube right here," he laughed.

I started to beg him not to fuck my ass but stopped when I felt hot jism squirt from his cock right against my asshole. There was obviously a copious amount of it and it instantly overflowed and dripped over my pussy and down the backs of my thighs. He held my hips firmly and briefly tested the resistance of my anus again. But as slippery as his cum was, it wasn't enough to break into my fearfully tensed ass. Then again, maybe he simply didn't force himself hard enough to achieve this, and after he finished his quiet, barely audible orgasm, he disappeared from the stage and left the final man to release me from the head stock.

The last man was easily satisfied, although I had already climaxed so many times my pussy felt numb and my clit was sore to touch. I briefly went through the motions to grind my pussy onto the bulge in his pants, but he clearly preferred me to masturbate him with my hands and he ejaculated in the shortest possible time.

My "show" now over, I felt exhausted but still had enough strength to make my way to the bar. A drink was thrust into my hand and I sipped it to refresh my dry mouth. I wasn't in the mood for conversation, particularly is it was apparent all the talk was about the "good vibrations" of my pussy. After everything that had just happened, it shouldn't have been an embarrassment to explain, but it was. I was also questioned about whether or not I was yet owned by anybody. The answer that my husband was also my owner made it a little easier to excuse myself from the conversation and return to him. Tony returned my dress and shows, but I had to wait until I was back in the office with my husband before I was allowed to dress again.