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NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 11 Nov 2005 08:16:08 -0600
From: Arnold Sloan <Nowhere@at.all>
Date: Fri, 11 Nov 2005 09:16:04 -0500
Newsgroups: alt.stories.erotic
Subject: Blackmailed FBI girl becomes Stripper -- M/f, BD
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===================
A rookie FBI agent is blackmailed into going undercover at a strip club
and discovers it requires more skills than she had bargained for.
I went to The Red Star that evening after work, wearing a trenchcoat
and feeling self conscious as the men eyed me. I sat in a dark corner,
the wheels in my head spinning as I tried to figure a way out of this
mess. I had been seen naked by many people before, if not nearly this
many, and if not by choice. I had coped. It wasn't like I was a
Catholic schoolgirl who was going to blush if a man saw my titties. A
little stylish strip tease shouldn't be beyond me. I had seen them done
often enough, on TV, in movies. Some of them had even looked pretty
sexy.
It only took one girl to disabuse me of any notion of style. The
Red Star did not cater to swanky businessmen with taste. It was
expensive, but it definitely had a low brow audience with crude
desires.
The girl on stage had huge breasts, obviously fake. She took
little time to strip off her clothes and then pranced around, shaking
her tits, bending over at the edge of the stage, grabbing the heads of
drunken men and jamming them into her huge white tits. It was a raucous
dance which contained numerous opportunities for her to lay back on
stage and spread her legs wide, wide apart.
This was not TV or even an R rated movie. Her thong disappeared
early, and if the view of her pussy wasn't good enough she helped out
those closest to the stage by spreading her pussy lips apart and
opening herself up.
My stomach was churning as I watched.
The next girl looked more normal. Her breasts were no larger than
mine, and she danced much slower and more provocatively. I began to
feel a little better. Then, after she had stripped, she began to squat.
I blinked in shock as something began to push out of her pussy. It was
a can of beer. The audience howled with delight as it slowly pushed out
as she sank down, then fell into her hand.
She shook it, then leaned back and popped it open. It sprayed over
her face and body like a giant facial, and the audience yelled in
approval.
This should have been illegal, but I guess when the mob owned a
place they could get away with pretty much whatever obscenity they
wanted.
Not far from me were the booths for private shows. The law
required a certain limit on such booths to discourage prostitution. So
the booths were open on the bottom, like toilet stalls, and instead of
a door there were black lace curtains. You could see through the lace -
barely, but with the lack of light inside it was hard to make out much
more than the gleaming white skin of a girl straddling someone in a
chair, her bottom rolling, her hips rising and falling. It was
impossible to tell if it was just a lap dance or - something more.
Several men had tried to pick me up as I had watched the show, and
I had curtly sent them on their way. I was irritated when I heard and
sensed someone else sitting down across from me, and turned my head
back from looking at the booths, expecting to see another drunken,
leering Russian. Instead I saw a tall Black woman wearing a blue satin
nighty.
"Hi," she said.
She was light skinned, with Arabic features, high cheek bones,
slim nose, and piercing eyes.
Uhm, hi.
Like the show?
I glanced towards the stage, then cleared my throat. "It's more -
graphic than I had thought it would be."
She lit a cigarette, blew a stream of smoke, and nodded, her eyes
never leaving me.
"It's a special club," she said. "The cops stay away, so the
management is able to get away with a lot more than most clubs would
dare try. Looking for work?"
I shook my head rapidly. I hadn't intended trying to get in
tonight. I was just scouting the place before coming in tomorrow when
things were quiet and there were fewer people.
"The thing is," she said, "They pay more than anywhere in the
city."
I raised my eyebrows doubtfully. I wasn't an afficionado but I
knew there were some clubs which served the elites where girls could
pull in over a thousand in a night.
A private lap dance costs fifty dollars a song.
I gaped at her. Ten was average. Twenty was for the top clubs
which catered to bankers.
And that's just for dancing," she said. "Not for anything else.
"Who would pay that kind of money?" I demanded.
She grinned and drew another deep drag. "Idiots," she said. "Newly
rich idiots. Russians who have far more money than brains and a poor
grasp of the exchange rate anyway."
I shook my head.
"Your face would draw them like flies," she said.
"My face?" I stared at her in surprise.
"You have a very seductive face. It's not the giant tits that get
the most private dances. It's the faces. If you have the face of a
whore only drunks want you. The face of a schoolgirl does well. The
face of a seductress even better. Yours is - ." She hesitated, staring
at me. "I don't know; strong but delicate. You have beautiful lips. Did
you use anything? Collagen?"
I shook my head.
"Very beautiful," she said. "You have long beautiful legs, too.
I swallowed, aware of how short my skirt was, and the lack of
anything beneath.
"I couldn't do - that," I said, pointing up at the stage, where a
girl was on her knees, legs spread, pumping her fingers in and out of
her pussy as the men at the edge of the stage leaned in to look more
closely.
She grinned. "Those are just the warmup acts. The real shows start
a little later, after nine."
"Worse than this?!" I demanded in astonishment.
She laughed in amusement. "Worse? That depends on your taste, I
suppose. At midnight there'll be girls on the poles." She indicated
several five foot tall pedestals scattered through the room, each of
which had a narrow stainless steel pole at its top which led to the
roof. "Those will be just dancers. On the main stage, there'll be
shows, girls and girls, girls and boys, sometimes girls and animals."
Yuck!
"These men have dirty minds and dirty tastes. But fat wallets. The
shows bring them in, and the private dances -" She pumped her thumb at
the lacy black curtains. "- empty them."
"I couldn't do it with an animal for all the money on Earth," I
said.
She smiled. "You don't have to. To each her own. As it happens,
I'm looking for a new partner for my show.
"Your show?" I licked my lips nervously.
Yes. I do a little bondage thing on stage.
B-bondage?
Her smile deepened, then she reached out and took my hand firmly,
shoving my jacket sleeve back to reveal the silver bracelet. She traced
it with her finger.
"With one I might have been mistaken, but not two." She looked at
my other wrist.
"They're just... bracelets," I said.
She fingered the ring set in one and smiled again. "Come with me."
She stood up and pulled, and it was either go with her or put up a
struggle which would attract attention.
She led me through a narrow door marked "employees only" and down
a tiled hall into a small closet like office, then closed the door.
"Let me see you," she demanded.
I told you - .
"Now," she barked.
I stared at her a moment indignantly, but my stomach was twisting
with indecision. If I didn't get in here there was no telling what that
bastard Pearlman would do, and this woman was offering me a way in
without even asking.
I opened my coat and shrugged it off. She grinned at my blazer and
skirt.
"Not exactly stripper clothes," she commented.
I blushed a little nervously and opened the blazer and she
blinked, then smiled and reached out to cup one of my breasts. I
started to jerk back but something in her eyes held me.
'What have we here?' she said under her breath.
She opened a couple of buttons and slipped her hand casually
through to cup my breast, looking at the chain clipped to my nipple.
"How delicious," she said.
Her thumb stroked against my nipple, which hardened instantly and
she smiled knowingly as I averted my eyes, trying to show a casualness
I didn't feel. She undid the rest of the buttons, pulled the shirt out
of my skirt and pushed it back over my shoulders, then crooked a finger
beneath the chain and lifted, forcing me to my toes.
"You have," she said slowly, "Delicious looking breasts.
I gasped, my arms partly pinned by my shirt, my chest thrust up
and out. The nipples were stretched out taut, stinging now as she
smiled down at me, but I made no effort to pull back.
She released the chain and stared at my breasts, then cupped both
gently.
And they're real. How marvellous.
I squirmed mentally, but I'd endured far worse. To be honest, I
was even kind of flattered.
"Wh-what kind of bondage thing do you do?" I asked, my voice low.
She lifted my skirt, sliding a hand beneath to squeeze my bare
sex. Again she smiled, pleased, and fingered my ring as I shifted my
weight nervously, feeling my sex begin to purr with anticipation.
That surprised me. I had been forced to perform on Kim-Le but had
never had any interest in having sex with lesbians. But I was feeling
something for this woman.
"You haven't told me your name," I said.
"Call me Dana," she said.
I gasped as a long, slim finger pushed between the lips of my sex
and thrust up into my body. I grasped at her wrist but she pushed
forward, and I fell back against the door as her finger twisted from
side to side in my pussy.
"You're tight," she said. "I hope you're flexible. I hope you can
stretch. Have you ever done a live sex show?"
"S-sex show?" I gulped breathlessly.
She pushed a second finger up into me and I twisted weakly against
the wall.
"Yeah, I'll make you lick me on stage. Other times I use a strap-
on, a big one. The Russians love to see a nigger girl really giving it
to a poor white girl."
I don't - I haven't - .
She pushed a third finger up inside me, twisting them around. My
sex was already wet, which astonished me, and my stomach was bubbling
with anxiety and uncertainty. I did NOT like having sex with women!
To be honest, I suppose, what had happened between me and Kim-Le
couldn't be described as sex. I had licked her while she had slapped
and taunted me.
Dana slipped her fingers out and then thrust them into my mouth.
My lips closed automatically around her fingers and we stared at each
other from inches away. I trembled, then licked reluctantly, tasting my
own cream. After a moment I began to suck, staring into those dark,
ferocious eyes and feeling my insides twist and throb.
"Oh yes," she hissed. "You and I will get along very well, little
girl."
She stepped back, unzipped my skirt, and pushed it over my bottom
so it would slide down my legs. It took her only an instant to
understand the chain around my waist, and another to have my wrists
locked to it.
"Kneel," she ordered in a deep, arrogant voice.
I knelt, my rubbery legs dropping me painfully.
She spread her legs and raised her nightie, and I swallowed as she
pulled my face in against her.
I needed no instructions on what she wanted, and, after looking up
into those dark eyes again, leaned in and began to lick along her inner
thighs, then let my tongue trace the edges of her slit. It took little
time to warm her up, and I began to slide my tongue up and down along
her closed slit, pushing in harder and deeper with each stroke until my
lips were pushed in against hers and my tongue was pumping inside her.
The door opened, hitting my backside. Dana looked up in irritation
as a loud male voice demanded entrance. I scrambled to my feet but Dana
gripped my arm and held me still as the door opened fully and two beefy
Russian men came in. One smirked at the sight of us, and I blushed.
Dana had let her nightie fall back into place but I, of course, was
naked.
The other looked me up and down.
"Who is this?" he demanded in thickly accented English.
"My new partner," Dana said.
For your act?
She nodded.
"You know you need to run all new dancers by me first," he
snapped.
"That's why she's in here, Boris" Dana said mildly
Boris had enormous arms and shoulders, and one eyebrow which went
from side to side of his fat, sweating face. He reached out and roughly
squeezed one of my breasts, then grunted, probably because they were
real.
"Look at this, Boris," Dana said in a teasing voice.
She turned me around, and then had me bend. I felt Boris' hands at
my ass and flinched, face red now.
"Very nice," he breathed.
"Boris is an ass man," Dana said with a smirk.
"I will interview her," he growled.
Dana snorted, but left, along with the other nameless Russian.
Boris drew me to his desk and bent me over, then kicked my legs
apart. I felt my skin crawl, but at the same time I felt a helpless
sense of arousal as I heard his zipper go down. It was almost like
before. I was helpless, a thing, a possession, yet not threatened, not
taken in anger or hatred.
I felt a deep sense of comfort as Boris buried his cock inside me.
I was wet, and he had no trouble thrusting through the soft flesh of my
pussy. His hands moved over my body as he began to pump, reaching
beneath to grope and fondle my breasts. He had little finesse, but lots
of energy, and was soon pumping steadily into me.
His fingers pried at my buttocks, and I felt a finger working its
way down into my asshole. It twisted from side to side, curling up
inside me, then straightening, pumping in and out, twisting in a
circle. A second finger joined it, and then Boris pulled out of my
pussy and pressed his fat prick against my asshole.
I would have cringed six months earlier. I had been enjoying the
fuck, hating myself while doing so, embarrassed in front of him,
feeling degraded and cheap, but now he was going to fuck me in the ass,
and I thought back to that time in Kim-Le's office when the other man -
I still had no idea who he was - had fucked my ass and made me come.
Now I felt my mind revelling in my own degradation as Boris slowly
worked his hard prick into my ass.
Why was I enjoying it? I don't know. I hated myself for it, but
couldn't resist as his prick slowly filled me up and he began to pump.
I stared at a cheap pinup on the far wall, one of those Hustler
magazine gynaecology things, with a cheap whore spreading the lips of
her sex.
Had I been reduced to this? My breasts were squeezed below me
against a cheap metal desk, rolling as my body jerked back and forth. I
could smell the beer and cigarette smoke, the odour which filled the
club, and hear the pounding music and voices outside. My wrists pulled
weakly against the bracelets at my sides and I groaned as Boris began
to pump faster and harder.
I was in a cheap strip club being fucked in the ass by a cheap
hood. How much farther could I fall?
The heat in my belly began to rise and twist in among my vitals.
My breathing became louder and more ragged. I fought against the
pleasure, fought against climaxing, and succeeded, but only barely, and
at a cost.
Boris pulled his softening prick out of me and cleaned himself up,
then put himself back into his pants and tugged on my hair to stand me
upright, then yelled out.
The door opened immediately, and Dana sauntered in.
"She is acceptable," Boris said.
Dana inclined her head, then crooked her finger at me. I
hesitated, then moved slowly forward. I looked towards my clothes but
she crooked a finger under my chain and pulled me out the door and into
the hall - naked.
"Wait," I panted.
"You don't need any clothes," she said.
I gasped as we moved down the hall, passing waitresses and
strippers, bus boys and restaurant staff, blushing furiously, but hot,
intensely hot because I hadn't let myself come with Boris.
She walked me to the dressing room, filled with mirrors, tables,
and half naked girls, then turned me around and lifted my chin.
"So how did you like Boris's anal probe?" she asked.
I blushed more deeply and she laughed. "The audience will love a
whore who blushes," she said.
"I-I have to go," I gulped.
Go? You're going on with me tonight.
I blinked in surprise. "Tonight? No! I mean, I haven't worked up
an act or..."
"You don't have to. You only have to do what you're told. And I
think you're good at that, sweety. What's your name, by the way?"
I stared at her a moment. "Gwen," I said.
Is that your stage name?
I shook my head.
We'll call you... Tammy. Such a sweet name, Tammy.
"I-I haven't even had dinner," I protested.
She leaned in and kissed me on the lips. There were hoots and
jeers from some of the other girls but she ignored them.
She drew back and led me by the nipple chain to a distant corner
table, then ordered me to sit.
Angela, tell Helga I want a dinner in here.
She refused to remove the chain or unlock my wrists, and fed me as
she told me what she wanted me to do. I was half numbed, half
electrified by the thought of going out in front of the crowd of people
and doing the perverse things she outlined. But I would have protested
more strongly if my pussy hadn't been in a state of high heat since
Boris had pumped my ass.
It wasn't so bad being naked in here, because most of the people
who saw me were strippers who were busily dressing and undressing. I
was kind of self conscious about the chains, though.
After dinner Dana took me into a small broom closet sized room and
spread my legs, then fingered me to the edge of orgasm, until my legs
trembled, my back arched, and my breath was ragged, then laughed at me
and pulled back.
She turned me, bent me over, and began to massage my pussy and
anus with her fingers, then used dildos to open them wide, dildos which
filled me to overflowing and strained my openings. She wouldn't let me
come, though, and forced me to lick her to three orgasms.
She removed my chains, brushed my hair and did my face, then gave
me a tissue thin nightie to wear. It was what the waitresses wore as
they made their way around the room. I was to be a waitress, or at
least, to pretend to be one. Beneath it I wore nothing but a tiny lacy
white G-string with a heart shaped crotch.
I blushed self consciously as one of the girls pushed me out into
the bar. I was wearing little enough, but knew I would soon have far
less. I was petrified of being up on stage in front of them all in the
bright light, my heart pounding.
Dana was already on stage, dressed in gleaming black leather,
wearing a dark mask and hissing at the audience, which yelled abuse.
She had thigh high black leather boots with tall stiletto heels, and
she stalked around the stage, shouting down at those nearest her,
sneering at them. She put her foot on one man's face and shoved him
back.
My stomach twisted as I shuffled forward, holding a tray,
blushing. I moved closer and closer to the stage, seeing an empty glass
on the counter there.
At last Dana stalked over to point down at me, yelling something I
couldn't hear over the pounding music and the shouts of the crowd. I
stared at her, wide eyed, frozen, forgetting what I was supposed to do.
She bent at the edge of the stage and grabbed for me. I almost dodged
back, forgetting, and she barely caught at the fabric of the nightie,
ripping it as she jerked me towards her.
The audience howled with approval as Dana tore the nightie off my
body. I resisted instinctively, though I was supposed to do it anyway,
blushing darkly as my nearly naked body was revealed.
Then Dana yanked me up onto the stage, lifting me up over the
edge, my feet kicking weakly. She pulled me up across her knees as she
knelt there and began to spank my bare bottom.
"Kick more," she hissed.
I kicked weakly, hardly able to breath as her hand cracked across
my bottom. She jammed her fingers between my thighs and I yelped
without any need to act as she squeezed my pussy through the thin G-
string. Then she let out an animal like laugh and threw me forward,
standing and grabbing me by the hair. She forced me to crawl across the
stage and up to a stainless steel pole, then lifted me to my feet.
From inside her leather coat she produced a pair of handcuffs,
snapping them around one wrist, then lifting both my hands up high,
putting the cuff through a ring set in the pole and then locking it
around my other wrist. I gulped repeatedly, staring around wildly, half
blinded by the light. I yelped as she slapped my bottom.
She produced a chain similar to the one I'd worn, but this one had
clips on the ends, and my nipple burned as she snapped one down. I
cried out in pain, and she laughed, leading the chain behind the pole
and then squeezing my other breast to snap the second clip against it.
The audience were yelling out obscenities, telling her to fuck me,
to rape me, to beat me. The music was pounding, and cigarette smoke
wafted past us in clouds, reflected by the spotlight.
The stage was round, surrounded on three sides by eager eyes. Dana
produced a second chain, also with clips.
"Struggle more," she hissed.
I pulled against the handcuffs, twisting my torso from side to
side, and she reached down for my shaved pussy, gripping one of my
pussy lips. I screamed again as she snapped the clip against it. And
then again as she led the chain behind the pole and did the same to my
other pussy lip.
And then something happened she hadn't warned me about. Another
pole began to rise from the floor. I didn't even notice until my leg
pushed against it. I looked down and had no need to feign astonishment.
It was thicker than my arm, perhaps as thick as that beer can I had
seen earlier, rounded at the top, and glistening.
"Oh fuck!" I gasped.
"You got it, sweetie," Dana said sadistically.
The audience erupted in howls of delight as the thick metal pole
pushed higher and higher. I tried to twist aside but Dana forced her
legs between mine and gripped my thighs. With the chain holding my
pubic lips out and forward I could hardly move, and she needed only a
little pull to my belly to ease me exactly into position as the rounded
metal pushed against my sex.
The audience loved it. Money was being thrown onto the stage.
It hurt. It hurt badly. I ached inside, but I felt a wildfire
thrill which fought the pain back, a thrill of sexual electricity which
ripped through my body and had my hair almost standing on end.
Dana produced a flog. It was not a real flog, for that would have
marked my skin. But it did sting when it was whipped across my back and
bottom.
The impact was enough to slowly redden my flesh, but did not
really hurt much. My body jerked in response, however, pulling my
nipples and pussy lips against the chain and jerking me around on the
thick metal pole. The more I struggled the more the audience loved it.
Money was being thrown onto the stage.
It hurt. It hurt badly. I ached inside, but I felt a wildfire
thrill which fought the pain back, a thrill of sexual electricity which
ripped through my body and had my hair almost standing on end.
Dana produced a flog. It was not a real flog, for that would have
marked my skin. But it did sting when it was whipped across my back and
bottom.
The impact was enough to slowly redden my flesh, but did not
really hurt much. My body jerked in response, however, pulling my
nipples and pussy lips against the chain and jerking me around on the
thick metal pole. The more blows she landed the more aroused I got. I
felt a sense of dazed wonder that this was happening to me, that this
was being done to me while hundreds of people looked on and shouted in
delight.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I gasped weakly.
------------------------------------------------
From the ebook Chained Heat - by Veronica Beacher. Her ebooks can be
downloaded at <<http://www.ebookblue.com/veronica_beacher_library.htm>>