Freebie

All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes that could cause offence to some people. Please do not read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual material, or if you are under the legal age of consent for your own country. These stories are pure fiction and are not based on anyone living or deceased.

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I left you at the end of part one, where I'd just left the hotel after having a sex session with two men. One was the boss of my husband Gerry, a Mr Spencer (Graham), and the other, a business friend of his, a Mr Harris (Peter), who handled the advertising for a sexy lingerie firm. Oh, and my name is Mary. And because of Gerry's stupidity at work, his boss now had evidence that could result in him going to gaol. So to prevent his boss taking the evidence to the police, Gerry had begged me to go with these men, knowing they'd want me to have sex with them. But now instead of taking me straight home, we were on our way to some kind of club.

So we left the hotel, and climbed into the back of the big limo. As we were being driven to the club, Graham began to explain what kind of club it was.

"I'm sure you'll like this place."

"Why? What kind of club is it?"

"You could say it's a kind of cross between a lap dancing club and a karaoke."

"You what? How on earth can those two go together?"

"Well you see the kind of man who frequents this club must obviously like seeing women dancing provocatively, and he also has to be wealthy enough to back this up. But the club doesn't have any paid dancers or strippers. So the ladies who come to the club are girls who like to show off their assets, so to speak; and as the men always show their appreciation with cash, they also leave a little richer than when they arrive."

I guess my face showed the apprehension I felt knowing this was obviously the fate they expected me to endure. He continued,

"Don't look so worried. I'm sure you won't have any problems paying for your enrolment."

"Enrolment? I don't understand."

"Well; men join by paying for membership at a cost of one hundred pounds. But ladies can enter free, and providing their first performance generates in excess of the one hundred pounds membership fee; that not only entitles them to membership, they also get to keep fifty-percent of what ever they've made. But it also entitles them to free admission in the future, where they can keep fifty-percent of what ever they pull when they're on stage."

If this was his way of reassuring me it wasn't working, it was beginning to sound more and more scary with every word. Then I guess Peter picked up on my anxiety, and he said,

"Don't let him worry you my dear. All you'll need to do is model a few of my costumes, and they'll be eating out of your hand."

"Eating from her snatch you mean."

This was Graham's sneering retort.

I looked at Peter,

"Do you mean I'll be expected to get up on stage, and then parade around in those skimpy panties you make?"

"Yes. But that won't be a problem. Will it?"

"I I don't think I'll have the nerve to pose in front of a room full of strangers."

"Don't you kid yourself. The way you lapped up the attention you got in the hotel, I have no doubt in your ability. As soon as you see the reaction your posing causes, I think you'll be displaying not only my lingerie to its best advantage, but also offering the punters a view of your intimate treasures."

I blushed, and even though I knew he was trying to pay me a compliment, it still didn't make me feel any easier. Then without warning, the car came to a halt, and the driver's voice came through the speakers,

"Bitches."

Graham opened his door and even before I climbed out, I could see the small neon sign 'Bitches'. We climbed from the car, and I could then see we were in a dimly lit back street. The only evidence to indicate the presence of anything as sophisticated as a club was that illuminated sign. I followed Graham as he descended down the dark stairway. He'd only turned into the staircase, and taken one step, when the staircase lit-up. It was illuminated by rows of tiny spotlights sunk into the walls inches from step height, and even some lights in the actual steps shining directly upwards.

So as I followed Graham, with Peter behind me, we descended down below ground level. As we neared the bottom few steps, the door at the bottom of the staircase opened, and a big muscle-bound doorman appeared. From his vantage point, and with the direction of the light beams, he would obviously be getting a clear view up into my crotch area. And again I was conscious of the skimpiness of the thong I was wearing. Graham was instantly recognised by the doorman,

"Good evening Mr Spencer. Is the young lady a member?"

"No Terry, I'm afraid she's not."

"So will she be paying for membership or performing?"

Graham looked across to me,

"Do you have a hundred quid (£100) on you?"

It was obvious I didn't, but I shook my head all the same.

"Well Terry, it looks like the little lady will be taking to the stage."

Peter again seeing my look of fear tried to offer words of comfort,

"Don't worry Mary. You'll see. Once you're inside and you get into the swing of things, it'll be easy."

We walked in and were seated at a table alongside the stage. To be more accurate, the stage was actually a large circle, maybe twenty feet across. And all the tables were positioned around its edge. There was a narrow open walkway, similar to a catwalk, which led from the stage to a pair of heavy curtains; behind which I supposed were the dressing rooms for stage performers. The stage and catwalk were only around eighteen inches high, and the stage had little sets of stairs leading up to it from in between each pair of tables. It was well lit with lights from all around its edge, and even before we'd arrived at our table I could see the girl who was currently giving her performance. Well far from Peter's words of comfort, now I was inside the club and could see what was happening on stage, I was even more worried. The girl was on her back in the middle of the stage area on a big cushion, which must have had some kind of revolving support under it. Her legs were high in the air, and a big black man was fucking her in a very leisurely and cavalier manner. As he fucked, his legs would give the occasional push, turning them both, so that all the audience got an unrestricted view. He was obviously used to this kind of performance, and liked the attention of his audience.

As we all sat around the table, a waiter came to take the drinks order, but Peter again advised me to steer clear of alcohol. By the time my coke arrived, the big black man was asking the audience where they wanted him to shoot his cum. He'd point to her face and men would throw money onto the stage. Then he'd point to her breasts, and again a shower of money would fall on the stage like confetti. He indicated various parts of the girl's body, obviously including her pussy. But the one which brought the largest shower of money was when he lifted her legs high, and pointed his cock at her bottom. This was obviously going to be the winning option, and after spitting out a mouthful of disgusting spittle onto his fingers, he proceeded to work it into her bottom. He then took great delight in forcing his shaft deep up inside her, and in only a few moments, his movements indicated he was delivering his cum. This was completed to a rousing accompaniment of applause and another shower of money.

Meanwhile, although subconsciously this sexual display was sowing the seeds for an arousal, consciously, I became all the more nervous; knowing my turn on stage was getting all the closer. As the couple on stage took their bows, and gathered up the money they'd attracted, the stage lights dropped to a subdued glow, and a spotlight picked-up a man appearing from the curtains, and making his way out to the stage.

"Well let's have a big round of applause for a wonderful display there by our little Helen, and ably assisted by the big boy Dirk."

Some of the audience responded, but most of the audience took their opportunity to resume normal conversation and the like. (Visiting the toilets, ordering drinks etc.) During the time it took for the stage to be cleared of the large cushion, contraption under it and the evidence of sticky liquids, the man on stage (who was obviously a comedian/announcer), went into a stream of jokes, which almost nobody appeared to be listening to. Peter caught my attention, and pointed up into the ceiling above the centre of the stage.

"Can you see that curtain?"

Hanging high in the air was a light weight curtain, made in a circular fashion.

"Yes. What is that for?"

"Once the stage is cleared, they'll bring out a rack with costumes on it. And the curtain will give you an enclosure to get changed in. Each hanger will be numbered, so just put on each costume in order. Once you come out on stage, it's up to you to display the costume to get the best reaction from the men watching."

"Do I have to dance or what?"

"It's up to you, what ever you feel comfortable with. If you want to dance and there is any particular music you want?"

"No, I don't think I could. I'm not even sure I'll find the courage to get up on the stage, let alone come out wearing a skimpy costume."

"You will. You forget you took my little magic tablet. By now, you'll find once you get the slightest sign of arousal, you'll let go without even knowing you're doing it."

"If you say so. But I don't feel very aroused right now."

As he had said, while the lights were still dimmed, the stage hands had wheeled out a rack, but in the dim lighting, it was difficult to distinguish what clothes were on it. Then as they left the stage the circular curtain descended from the ceiling, and enclosed an area around the rack, about five feet across. It was at this point the announcer announced,

"Gentlemen. Can I have your attention? The act is nothing new; in fact I think I can go as far as to say it's an old favourite here at Bitches. But the girl modelling for us tonight is a fresh face, and I'm assured a fresh little pussy to match. So lets all give an encouraging welcome to Mary; who is about to present the latest creations from the Erotic Nights collection."

Peter and Graham both gave me the nod, and Graham said,

"Ok girl, its time for you to show them what you can do."

I slowly rose to my feet, and as soon as I was standing, the spotlight moved from the announcer who was exiting the stage, and picked me out. With that, suddenly every eye in the room was focused my way. As I began my slow climb up the three small steps up to the stage, it was as if someone else had taken over my senses. I could feel myself swaying my hips in an exaggerated manner. And instead of just making my way directly to the curtains, I was walking the perimeter of the stage. But not just walking aimlessly, as I passed each table I'd turn and stoop. Not spreading my legs wantonly, or crudely displaying my all; no, just teasing, and wetting the appetites of the open mouthed onlookers.

Where this performance came from I can't imagine, but it was having an effect, even before I started to model the skimpy costumes. Every flash and enticement would bring forth a shower of notes; and even though I didn't stop to pick them up, I could see they were mostly £20 notes! By the time I'd entered the curtain enclosure, the perimeter of the stage was strewn with money. As I disappeared into my enclosure, the audience began to chant, and I knew I couldn't waste any time getting changed into the first costume. But something else was also obvious now, the curtains were made of an almost see-through material, so although the audiences view might have been obscured slightly, I certainly hadn't got total privacy. But for some reason this didn't faze me at all, and I stripped naked; then put on the first of the costumes.

I was soon out on stage, and posing from table to table, and if the money that was landing on the stage was any indication, then the audience liked what they saw. I won't go into detail about each and every costume, as even in my mind they all merged from one to the next. But I started with what you might call a simple one piece swimming costume, and progressed via ten different ones until the last one was the smallest of thongs imaginable. But even this last one which didn't even have a top to cover my breasts, and in truth, the bottom half didn't cover my pussy completely; I displayed with a brashness I still can't explain. As I took what I thought were my final bows walking around the edge of the stage, I heard the announcer's voice over the speaker system.

"Right gentlemen. Once you've finished showing your appreciation for the new girl Mary, I'm thinking maybe there are a few of you virile young bucks out there who would like to come on stage and offer your services to help our newcomer to cash in on what looks like being a profitable night out."

At this point various men began to leave their tables and make their way up onto the stage. The announcer lined them up across the centre of the stage. By now of course, the stage hands had removed the rack of costumes, and the curtain was back to its position high in the ceiling. But more ominously, the stage hands had also brought out a big round cushion similar to the one the girl before me have been having sex on; at this point they left it at the end of the walkway out of the way of things happening centre stage. They were now busy collecting all the money from around the stage.

I tentatively made my way to the edge of the stage with the intention of going back to my table, when the announcer called,

"Hey Mary, don't you want your dress?"

I turned and could see he was holding my little red dress as he stood centre stage in the spotlight. I walked back and took it from him, and began to step into it.

"I don't know about you men out there. But even though I can see as much of the little lady as she puts her dress on, as I could when she was busy taking it off; it somehow doesn't seem as enticing this way around."

I ignored his remark, and completed fastening the buttons on my dress. But it seems he wasn't finished with me yet. Again as I turned and was about to walk off stage, he took hold of my hand and turned me back towards him.

"Don't go just yet sweetie. Look at these virile young studs we have lined-up for you."

I turned and looked at the eight men all lined-up across the widest part of the stage.

"Wouldn't you like to try one of these men for size?"

I didn't answer, but just dropped my head low and shook it.

"Well lads, looks like she isn't over enthusiastic about your company. Maybe if you were all to show her what you're offering."

With that, all eight men began to strip, and in less than a couple of minutes, all eight of them were stood there with just the skimpiest of posing pouches covering, but not hiding the size and shape of there cocks.

"Well Mary my dear, has that tempted you to change your mind?"

I did look back, and for some unknown reason, I couldn't stop myself from scanning from one to the next until I'd assessed them all. Then he snapped me out of my trance,

"Well? Seen anything you fancy?"

I turned back, and again dropped my head as I shook it to indicate I wasn't interested.

He kept hold of my hand as he again spoke to the audience,

"Ok gentlemen. I'll bring each of these lads to centre stage one at a time, and if you give me a show of hands, we'll pick out a partner for young Mary here."

So that was what he did, as each of the men came to the front centre stage, the audience voted with a show of hands, and in no time they'd selected a big muscle-bound white guy. He stood at least six-foot six tall, with big broad shoulders. But if his body was big, his dick was if anything proportionally even bigger. It hung in its soft silk pouch, and every step he took it swung from side to side. And unless he'd actually got something else in there to enhance its looks, his drooping soft dick must have been a good ten or more inches long. I can only imagine what it could look like when he got aroused! He'd rival a fucking horse!

As I stood there gazing in total amazement the announcer said (via his microphone, so everyone else could also hear),

"Well Mary, it looks like we've got your interest at last. Now they've selected a suitable stud to match your delicate charms, how do you feel about giving us a little show?"

As I realised I'd been staring down at this guy's pouch, I coloured up bright red, hung my head low and shook it again as I tried to pull my way free from his grip.

"Hold up there my dear. We can all tell you're interested. And from your performance just now, we can see you've got what it takes. So why are you being so shy?"

I tried to whisper into his ear, but unknown to me he moved his mic, and it picked up my answer,

"Please, I just want to go back to the table."

"But you haven't even found out how much money you made with your last little show."

At this point one of the stage hands brought over the money they'd picked up from the stage and told him the total.

"It appears your cut is one thousand one hundred and sixty pounds; not a bad little earner. But as she seems a little reluctant to take on our stud here, how about letting her know what she's turning down. Come on gents, let's see your pledges."

With that the audience began to place money on their tables, and one of the stagehand went around counting it, but then putting it back on the table it came from. When he'd counted the money on all the tables he came and again whispered into the announcer's ear.

"Well gentlemen; its plain to see you all want Mary here to perform with Olaf. And just for the record, that is the highest amount we've ever had for a newcomer. Just over two and a half grand. So little lady, are you going to turn that down? Two thousand six hundred, lovely pound notes."

I got a lump in my throat when I realised just how much money I would be turning down. With the money I'd already been given for displaying those costumes; that would be two months wages for my husband. But turn it down I had to, I couldn't willingly do something like that in front of an audience, unless it was absolutely necessary.

I looked up to his smiling face, and shook my head. Again he spoke into the mic so the whole club could hear, but his question was aimed at me,

"You can't mean that? You're turning down over two grand for just one little ten minute romp?"

I dropped my head.

"Ok, back to your table, but if you leave the stage, and decide to come back again later, we can't guaranteed the pledge you've just been given."

With that he loosed my hand and as I turned to walk off the stage a ripple of dissenting voices began to build. It gradually turned into a chant,

"Mary. Mary. WE want Mary. Mary. Mary. WE want Mary."

As I sat myself down at our table the announcer came across and knelt at the edge of the stage, and held his outstretched arm towards where I sat, beckoning or almost begging me to return to the stage,

"Come Mary. Surely you haven't the heart to disappoint all these eager gentlemen?"

Graham lent across and whispered in my ear,

"What are you waiting for; I'm sure your Gerry wouldn't want to miss out on two and a half grand. Especially earned so easily."

I shook my still lowered head. Then Graham whispered something in the announcer's ear.

The announcer then stood back up to face his audience,

"Well gentlemen, it looks like this little newbie needs to get her husbands blessing. And I've been told that his attention is liable to be influenced by the sound of money. So before our go-between seeks his approval, is there anyone who wants to up the ante?"