Cute Girls

What Are Friends For? Ch. 04

“The following totally fictitious writings and are intended for the sole readership of those of LEGAL AGE. The ADULT ONLY material contained within is also for personal use only where local standards permit scenes of violence and sex. Please do not read further if any of these subjects offend, or if you are not of legal age.

This is a work of fiction. The author does not condone violence of any sort.

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Without a word I reached in my pocket and pulled out a Swiss Army knife she didn’t realize I’d picked up on the way out the door. Smart girl that she was, she quickly figured out what I had planned and I’m sure realized it was my intent all along. She could have outrun me on the way to the lake and I still would have done this.

If you’ve heard about the effect of a willow branch, no matter what you’ve heard, it’s probably understated. Suffice it to say that one has the ability to do as much damage as a bull whip.

I found a perfect branch and cut it from the tree.

“Oh God NO! Please Scott, not that, please don’t! PLEASE” she begged.

I chuckled, “You don’t even know what I’m going to do!”

“Obviously you’re going to use that on me, I can’t take that and you know it! Please!” there was desperation in her voice.

I just looked at her as I used the knife to strip off the leaves and bark and cut the switch to the proper length.

After a few practice swishes I was satisfied it was the perfect caning device. She was correct of course. I was going to use it on her, where didn’t matter. And if I used it with half it’s potential to inflict damage, she was right again, she wouldn’t be able to take it. That wasn’t my intent obviously, but she was going to experience yet another bout of pain on that nice round ass that had become my favorite target.

She started begging again, with an almost shriek in her voice from the fear “No, NO! Don’t do it, I’m begging you don’t!”

Calmly I looked at her and softly said, “Only a few, and I’ve told you, you need to learn to trust me. Since you clearly don’t yet, I’m going to give you double what I originally planned! Sooner or later you’ll learn.”

With that remark, all the color drained from her face and I was afraid she might actually faint. She still didn’t know where I intended to use my wicked little toy. I’m sure she was petrified I might use it on her tits. I knew she really couldn’t take that though. I set the switch on the ground beside her and moved behind her.

Deciding to play with her mind a bit more before proceeding, I stood up and moved in front of her, lifting the front of her shirt until her tits were exposed and then tucking the hem into the neck.

Now she screamed, “NO NOT MY TITS, ANYTHING BUT THAT! THEY’RE TOO SORE! ANYTHING, I”LL DO ANYTHING!”

“You forget, I can do what I want, including whip your tits with this” I said as I bent to pick up the stick and hold it in front of her face, “and then you’ll STILL do anything I want!”

She was shaking and sobbing, but had stopped saying anything.

“That’s better” I said, sure she had no idea what I meant, because I didn’t myself.

I laughed as I untucked her shirt and let it hang back in place. Once she realized I had been toying with her and wasn’t going to whip her tits she sagged with relief.

“Okay, enough fooling around. It’s time” I said as I moved around behind her.

Hooking my thumbs in the waistband of her shorts, I slid them down to her ankles. Instantly her gluts tightened. My god she has a fine ass. Very tight and muscular, with very little fat. She would be able to take this even though it was going to hurt like a branding iron.

“If you tense up like that it’s going to hurt all the more” I warned.

I’m not sure if she believed me or not, but I saw she was trying to relax. Naturally she couldn’t let all the tension go.

I lined up the branch and tapped it very lightly across the middle of her buttocks. Instantly she tensed again. I just kept tapping as I spoke again, “Relax, I’m not going to wait all day.”

After a few more taps she started to relax. As soon as she did I whipped the switch back and landing a forceful blow right across the middle of her ass.

She leapt up and screeched a blood curdling, animalistic howl.

Without a pause I laid a second blow on her ass about three inches lower.

This time all that came out of her mouth was a silent scream.

I surveyed my handiwork. It was perfect. The welts were already raising but the force had been exactly right. Sting like a motherfucker, raise a welt that would last a good long time and be sore for days, but didn’t split the skin.

I paused to let the fire sink in. She couldn’t stop jumping around and the tears were streaming down her face. Still no noise came out as she gasped for air.

If she was thinking, which I doubted, she could be praying that I’d planned on one and double was two. Again I doubted she’d regained her senses yet, but if I gave her another she’d know that meant at least one more after that. Doubling something always ends up with an even number.

I was sure she wasn’t quite together yet when I let her have yet another, this one about three inches above the first. Now she had three perfect stripes spaced evenly up and down that lovely ass.

She’d regained enough breath that the third brought on a scream even more unearthly than the first.

She was sagging from the rope, her legs weren’t supporting her at all. Her head was hanging and her chest was heaving as she sobbed violently. I was sure she had reached sub-space. That point where part of the brain disengages from the rest of the body and shuts down in order to tolerate the pain.

The doubling thing I’d told her was bullshit. I’d always planned to see how she handled it and stop at the right point. I was sure she could take one or two more, but that would probably mean I would have to abandon some of the plans I had for later. I was unwilling to do that even though the adrenalin rush I was getting from caning her like this was positively euphoric.

I decided it was enough. I reached down and pulled up her shorts. I actually had to heft her over my shoulder to untie the rope. Once that was done I laid her on a big mossy patch under the tree and left her to recover for a while.

It was so idyllic by the lake that the contrast of activity and environment was almost overwhelming. My hunting and fishing trips would never be the same! I strolled down the shore a ways and then back to where Laura lay. It had probably been about 20 minutes since I’d put her there when I returned.

She was just beginning to regain her senses when I got back. I sat down and just watched her for a few more minutes. She was still sobbing, but softly now, and her breathing was nearly normal. Not surprisingly, she was laying on her side so that neither her ass nor her tits were against the ground.

She looked so fucking hot I was tempted to take her right there, but patience can be a virtue I knew.

Finally I spoke to her, “Can you stand?”

She looked up as if just then realizing I was even there.

It took another minute or so for her eyes to fully focus and then she finally rasped, “I’m not sure.”

“Let me help” I said as I leaned down and putting my hands under her armpits, lifted her to her feet as gently as I could. I had to hold her until she gained her balance. We just stood there with me steadying her for a few minutes longer.

“Walk?” I finally asked, adding “Take your time, go at whatever pace you can.”

She looked at me with a kind of funny looked and started to almost shuffle toward the cabin rather unsteadily. I firmly took hold of her upper left arm with my right hand and more gently held her wrist in my left, steadying her as she walked.

I didn’t have a watch, but I’d estimate it took us nearly 45 minutes to cover the half mile back to the cabin. By the time we got there she was reasonably stable and under her own power, but moving extremely tentatively.

As we entered the cabin she still hadn’t said a word.

“Go wash your face, it will make you feel better” I directed, not knowing if it really would.

When she came out of the bath I told her to lie down and rest for a while. She still didn’t speak, but just did as I’d said. She was very careful how she got onto the bed, again laying on her side.

I was sure she would sleep for a while. I pulled the door closed and went out to sit on the porch again and just enjoy a little solitude and ponder this entire nuttiness.

It was much to late for second thoughts, but I couldn’t help but hope I was actually assisting John and Laura. As I reflected, I was sure that this was what Laura had wanted, and based on her reactions so far I was pretty sure that ‘needed’ was the right word too. Oh, I knew it was more than she’d experienced before, much more. And certainly more than she’d expected. I wondered if this experience was going to get it out of her system, or increase the need. Again based on the way she’d been reacting so far, I suspected the latter.

I didn’t spend much time thinking about those issues though, I was thinking about how much I was enjoying myself, or rather enjoying using her. I was also thinking about my plan for the rest of my time with her. I still had a couple of things I definitely wanted us to experience together.

I sat there daydreaming until the sun started to go down and the air began to cool quickly. I went back inside and closed up the windows and decided it was time to light the fire, then organize dinner. It was time to go check on Laura, besides I was eager to swap the smaller butt plug for the large one.

When I opened the door to the bedroom I think the noise must have roused her because her eyes where just opening as I sat on the edge of the bed, but she still had a sleepy look.

I brushed the hair hanging in her eyes aside and asked her, “How you doing?”

As she fully woke I could tell she was mostly recovered. Sore to be sure, but had some fight back.

Not answering my question directly she glared at me and nearly spat, “How can you be such a fucking mean bastard one minute and so nice the next?”

I chuckled, “Well fucking mean bastard, by the way, is exactly what you asked for! As for the nice part, it’s easy, I like you.”

She shook her head, but grinned a bit.

I repeated my earlier question, “How are you?”

She stretched a little as if to try and assess the answer, “Okay I guess. I hurt like Hell!”

“Ready to have that little item in your ass removed?” I asked

“LITTLE! Yes I’m ready” she snapped.

“Good!” I said with a smile.

“Oh NO! Nope, no!” she said realizing too late what I intended, not that it would have mattered of course.

“Oh Yes! Come on” I said offering a hand to help her stand.

“Scott, not now, not yet, please!”

“Look bitch” I growled, “stop arguing with me. It’s time to stretch that asshole the next step unless you want to get split open with my cock. And if you don’t start behaving a little better, I’m going to use that crop on your ass again. In fact I might just anyway, so stop pissing me off. Now get out of those clothes and out in the other room.”

She took the offered hand and became quite compliant quickly striping off the shorts and shirt. The thought of more ill-treatment on her ass evidently was enough to change her attitude. I continued to marvel at the spunk in this lady.

As we went out in the main room I instructed he to bend over the chair again. The lube and bigger plug were laying right there. She rather hastily did as instructed.

I just stood back admiring her ass as she bent. I’d done just the right job with the switch. She had three nice red welts contrasting against her lovely white skin. The beauty of a switch like that is it hurts like a son of a bitch at the time, but unless used to excess it allows more ‘attention’ to the area to be tolerated rather soon. I still hadn’t made a final decision about cropping her buns some more, but I sure wanted to.

I firmly grasped the base of the plug and told her to relax and grip the chair arms firmly. Again she did as instructed, relaxing as best she could. I began a firm, steady pull on the plug rather than just yanking it out. It started to slide out and then with a POP, burst free.

She gave a large sigh of momentary relief.

Without defiance, just a polite request she asked, “Could we wait just a minute before the other one, please”

“Believe me, the sooner it goes in, the easier on you. But, you choose, if you want a few minutes rest you can, but I wouldn’t” I said, meaning it.

She took a deep breath and after about thirty seconds replied, “Okay, go ahead then.”

I took the tube of lubricant and using my fingers worked some in and around her little rosebud. Then I actually squirted some up her rectum. Lastly I lathered the plug with it until it was literally dripping. This was going to be an effort to insert and I wanted it to go as smoothly as possible.

Even I marveled a bit at the size of the thing, but it wasn’t as big as me and I knew she could handle it, now that the first one had loosened her up a bit.

As before I told her to relax as I put just the rounded tip of it against her pucker. This time I waited for her to really relax.

“Take a couple of deep breaths and relax as much as you can, I’ll be a gentle as possible, honest.”

She did exactly that, and I did as promised. I exerted a steady firm pressure on the base of the thing, but pushed it in very slowly. It was pretty erotic watching the black cone stretch her sphincter muscle wider and wider.

By the time it was about 3/4’s in she was grunting and gasping, still doing her best to relax. I pushed a little harder.

“Almost there, just a little bit more” I encouraged as the thing stretched her wider still.

“OH, OW, OH SHIT!” she started to pant.

It was nearly there and then with a final extra push the widest part was at her opening and it popped the rest of the way in.

She gave a loud grunt.

“Fuck! It feels like you shoved a watermelon up there. God it hurts!”

“You’ll get used to it in a minute. Just think what it would have been like if I have tried to fuck your ass without doing this!”

She just grunted and panted some more, still bent over, trying to adjust to the hugeness she was feeling.

“Stand up when you’re ready” I said and leaving her to decide on her own I went to the sink and washed my hands and started to fix dinner. I wasn’t sure how hungry she would be, but I was starved. I was also getting damn horny again, but had my plan and was sticking to it.

“I’m going go light the grill, you getting hungry?”

I looked over and she was mostly upright, still bent at the waist a little with her hands on the back of the chair .

“Not really” she grunted, still not adjusted to being so full.

I had planned a simple but nice meal. Grilled stakes, a vegetable salad, asparagus and sautéed mushrooms. In about 30 minutes I was ready to start cooking. I put everything on and seasoned the steaks, waiting till the last minute to slap them on the grill.

Laura was walking around a bit, evidently having come to grips with her new friend.

“How do you like your steak?” I asked, as if she were any old diner guest.

“Uh, oh medium please” she was apparently still a little distracted.

While the steaks were grilling I opened the bottle of sparkling champagne grape juice I brought. No alcohol, remember. Not exactly a Merlot, but festive nonetheless.

I served diner and just as Laura was about to sit I said, “Hold on a sec” and ran into the bedroom and brought out one of the oversized feather pillows for her to sit on.

“Thanks” she smiled, “I really can’t figure you out.”

Off balance!

She ate surprisingly well, though slowly. I nearly inhaled my meal, trying to retain some manners at least. There is nothing I like better than a good steak, grilled over a fire and cooked in the great outdoors.

We ate in silence. I split the last of the cider between our two glasses and continued to sip quietly.

As I got up to clear, she said “Want some help?”

“Nope, you’re my guest. Just relax and make yourself comfortable.”

She looked at me skeptically.

“No, really” I said.

She shrugged and went over to the overstuffed couch and sort of sprawled, trying not to sit directly.

I puttered around, put away the food, cleaned up the dishes and kitchen, mostly killing time until I figured that big plug had loosened her up as much as possible. I was starting to get hard just thinking about pounding my cock up her ass.

I decided I just couldn’t wait any longer.

“Okay you little slut, it’s time”

She knew what I meant, but didn’t say anything or move, just looked at me waiting for instructions.

“Over the chair again”

She delicately got back in position. She didn’t realize I had a couple of surprises in store. First I took some stretchy Velcro straps and fastened her ankles to the chair legs, this spread her legs nice and wide and made sure she wouldn’t be able to move much. Next I attached the wrist cuffs and bent her over so her ass was the perfect height and well exposed. I stretched her forward and attached the cuffs via a piece of rope to the front legs.

She was complete exposed and vulnerable and her torso was hanging over the chair seat. I wasn’t done. I went and got the ball gag and without letting her see them, the adjustable nipple clamps and a couple of the heavier weights for them.

The first thing I did was gag her. Then I stopped and standing behind her I started to finger her pussy, playing frequently with her clit. Almost immediately she was flooding my hand with her juices. Even knowing what was coming she was an insatiable little slut. She was squirming and moaning into the gag and wiggling around trying to maximize the stimulation. I let her build very close to cumming before I stopped. I could tell she was groaning into the gag and probably begging for more.

I went in front of the chair and finally let her see the clamps. Her eyes went wide and she started to violently shake her head from side to side. I knew her nipples would be extremely sore and sensitive, so I didn’t tighten the clamps as much as before, but plenty tight enough to be felt, especially after I hung the weights on them, which I did. As soon as the weights were in place she tried to hold as still as possible because as much as they hurt just hanging there if she moved the tore sadistically at her tender flesh.

I knew she wouldn’t be able to hold still long however. By now I was rock hard. Now normally a cock is going to give some and make anal a little easier than a plug or dildo does, but I swear that to me at least, my cock felt like steel. I stripped off my clothes and stood in front of her.

“Take a good look at what you’re about to feel bitch” I mocked.

I moved back behind her again and though impatient, took the time to finger her some more. For a second time I pushed her right to the edge, though it took longer because as she started to squirm her nipples were feeling exquisite pain.

Still, when I stopped I could tell she was groaning in frustration.

At last it was time. I really had to pull hard to get the plug out, but out it came. I just stared for a moment at her obscenely gapping hole. Much to my pleasure it didn’t close up, but looked like a small tunnel. I squirted some lube inside and much as I had with the plug I covered my massive cock with it too.

As I place the head against the opening I could hear her muffled screams of anticipation.

“Shut up bitch, I haven’t even started yet!”

I couldn’t resist. I slapped her ass hard with my right hand, catching the end of the middle welt. The scream that came out even through the gag was unbelievable.

I figured I could do pretty much the same thing next week. Ted’s ladies’ night crowd had settled down to about 60% regulars, but less than 10% came every week. Most of the regulars only showed up once or twice a month. Next week would be a whole different crowd, so I could squeeze another week out of tonight’s routine.

I was wrong, of course. The crowd on the next Tuesday was about 50% larger than usual and almost all of the increase were repeats from last week. (Melinda wasn’t there, but her friends were.) This was encouraging but I hoped a repeat wouldn’t bore them, although I suppose a repeat was exactly what they had come to see. This time I chose a regular I’d seen there last week, so she knew what she was in for when I selected her. Her name was Lisa.

Lisa seemed less intimidated by the whole thing than Melinda had been, so I decided to push things a little farther. After I had pulled her to her feet, I took her by the shoulders and turned her around. I removed a pair of handcuffs from my pocket, pulled Lisa’s hands behind her, and locked them on her wrists. Then I placed my hand in the middle of her back and guided her toward the stage. I stood her at the front of the stage, as I’d done with Melinda. Lisa was tall, probably 5′ 9″, had long black hair and blue eyes with small breasts and long legs. She was wearing a dress which buttoned down the front (one of the reasons I’d chosen her). Once again I made a show of examining her, but also admiring her. I circled around her, lifted the hem of her dress, corrected her posture when she moved out of position, drawing the whole thing out longer than last time. Then I led her to the pole.

I unlocked the handcuffs, pulled her arms behind the pole, and locked the cuffs back on her. She was a captive of the pole. I danced around, removed her shoes, threw off my cape, and did the whole routine much like before only longer. I unbuttoned her dress all the way down. It hung from her shoulders, revealing her bra, panties, stockings. I danced away and left her there in the spotlight, handcuffed in her underwear. After a while I returned and released her, picking her up and carrying her back to her table. I replaced her shoes, kissed her hand, and returned to the stage. Like Melinda, Lisa had never said a word except her name. Before taking a bow, I stood scanning the audience, as if deciding who would be next (which was exactly what I was doing). The room went completely silent. Everyone seemed to be holding her breath. Was I going to do another one? Then I bowed and disappeared from the stage. Audience reaction was the best ever. They clapped and screamed and screamed some more. Ted was going to have to get me a bigger tip jar.

“Looks like you’ve got a winner,” yelled Ted as I headed toward the back. “Just don’t let it get stale.”

“I’m already working on the next one,” I yelled back.

The next week was a continuation along the same line. I knew where I was headed. I was going to strip one of Ted’s customers completely naked. But I would work up to it over a period of weeks, or even months. I was going to ride this horse as long as I could.

After 4 weeks, I was packing the place. Ted swapped Gary and I, giving me the 10 o’clock hour. Gary redid his act. It now had an air of apprehension about it, a feel of mystery, a sense of foreboding. I don’t know quite what he did. He moved around much the way he always had, but the atmosphere he created was very different. He really was good.

I talked to Gary, worried that he’d be pissed about the change. I had this image of gays being really sensitive and touchy. Gary was totally cool. He said he preferred the earlier hour because there were fewer drunks and he liked doing the warm up for my act. Creating an atmosphere was the kind of thing he was into. Besides, too many customers had been leaving after my act, so the tips were now better at 9:00.

I asked him how he managed to strip for a bunch of women and make it convincing. He said it was easy, he just pretended it was a room full of guys. I was impressed. There was no way I could strip for a bunch of guys, make eye contact, respond to their reactions, and pretend it was a group of women. My imagination is more limited than that. But then, I have no talent. That’s why I need a gimmick.

As I said, my goal was to strip one of Ted’s customers completely naked. And keep doing it. That would certainly turn me on, but what about the audience. Why would women come to ladies night at Ted’s place to see a woman undressed? I was doing what I was doing partly because it worked and partly because I liked doing it. But why did it work? I had some ideas, but wasn’t sure if I was really on the right track. I decided I needed a focus group. Kelly and Janice were the two waitresses I was the most friendly with, so I asked them.

“You’re looking at it all wrong,” Kelly said. “They don’t come to see a woman undressed. They come because it could be them. There’s a certain element of danger that’s a real turn-on for many women. They aren’t really sure they want to be chained up and undressed in public, but the possibility is exciting.”

“That’s right,” Janice said. “The girl on stage is them. They vicariously experience whatever she does. They don’t see some other woman being undressed on stage. They imagine themselves in her position. The thing that makes it work is that they really could be in her position. And it helps that the chains are real. It just wouldn’t be the same if they were phony.”

“And at the end when you carry her back to her chair and kiss her hand. They like that.” This from Kelly.

While this conversation helped, I still couldn’t understand the motivation and the girls couldn’t really explain it to me. Why would they want the experience vicariously or otherwise? I still didn’t know.

I’d recently finished reading Richard Feynman’s book “Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman”. He described an episode in his life after his wife died when he spent a couple summers in the late ’50’s hanging out in bars in the southwest. He’d buy drinks for girls, dance with them, etc. Always right around closing time they’d evaporate. He tried and tried to score. Always the same result. Finally, a guy clued him in. The guy said that if you wanted a girl to sleep with you, the thing to do was not respect her. Be rude. And above all, don’t buy her ANYTHING. Not a drink, not a sandwich, not a cigarette, nothing. Then she’ll sleep with you. He tried it. The guy was right. It worked. Then he thought that these were only bar girls and that’s why it worked. It would never work with a nice girl. So when fall came and he returned to his teaching position at Cornell, he tried it on a nice girl. It worked just fine. Why? I don’t know. He didn’t know. It just worked. I wonder if that guy in the bar in the southwest is still alive. I’d like to talk to him.

My routine was like that. It worked, but I don’t know why. One thing was clear from my conversation with Janice and Kelly. I needed to work on the selection process. My current system of leaping from the stage only gave me access to the first couple of rows. I needed for every woman in the room to feel she could be chosen, was likely to be chosen.

The next Tuesday I changed my opening. First I walked back and forth across the front of the stage, dangling a pair of handcuffs from an extended index finger. I looked over the crowd, making eye contact with as many as possible. Then I did my leap and somersault from the stage (this had become sort of a trademark) but this time I landed in an open area, instead of in front of my chosen target. I headed for the back of the room. I walked from table to table, still dangling the cuffs from my finger. Sometimes I would stop in front of a woman and dangle the cuffs before her, watching her reaction. Sometimes I would cup my hand under a chin and tilt her face toward me and look into her eyes. Sometimes I would lay the end of the quirt against a cheek, turning the girl’s head to the side to see her profile, or brush her hair back to see more of her face. I tried to make contact with someone at every table. Eye contact if not physical contact, but I actually physically examined quite a few ladies. One girl toward the back was wearing a hat. I made her take it off, had her stand up. I walked around her. Then I moved on. I would have chosen her except she was wearing pants (she didn’t know that was the reason I’d moved on). Skirts were sexier, and I liked lifting the hem with my quirt. By now, every woman in the room realized it was a real possibility that she could be chosen. I worked my way back to the back again.

There was a woman sitting alone at a table against the rear wall. I’d seen her twice before, about a month apart each time. She appeared to be in her mid to late 30’s, older than anyone I’d previously selected. The thing that had always attracted my attention was that she was always so perfectly groomed. Not a hair out of place, conservative make up done just so. It made you want to stick your hands in her hair and mess it up. She would be quite properly disheveled when I finished with her. She wore conservative business clothing, dark jacket and skirt, white blouse, scarf tucked neatly into her collar and a single strand of pearls. She always sat alone and I had the feeling she was in town on business and didn’t know anyone here.

I walked up to her, dangling the handcuffs. I was directly in front of her, the small cocktail table between us. I laid the handcuffs on her table, between her and her drink.

“You. I choose you.”

She picked up her drink and took a major gulp. It was like an ambiguous lottery. Her number had been drawn. But had she won or lost? And the others, were they relieved or disappointed. Both.

“Tell me your name, wench.”

“Elaine. My name is Elaine.” She whispered so softly I could hardly hear her. The room was absolutely silent, otherwise I wouldn’t have heard her. All eyes were on Elaine. No one spoke, no glasses clinked.

I picked up the table, set it aside, and stepped closer to Elaine. I circled her chair, inspecting her. I picked the cuffs up from the table and stepped behind her.

“Place your hands behind you, Elaine.”

Slowly, she drew her hands together behind her. I snapped the cuffs on her wrists. Then I pulled a collar from within my cape and buckled it around her throat. Elaine had blond hair which was cut short enough to leave her neck exposed. The collar was a new addition to the act and was highly visible on Elaine’s throat. I snapped a leash to the ring on the front of her collar and told her to stand. She rose slowly and stood waiting for whatever was next. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. I tugged on the leash and turned toward the stage. Elaine turned and trailed along behind on about 6′ of leash. I positioned her at the front of the stage as I had her predecessors and began her inspection. I touched her here and there with the quirt, correcting her posture (which didn’t need any correction, but I liked doing it anyway). I unbuttoned her jacket, then stepped behind her and removed her handcuffs. Then I slipped the coat off her shoulders and hung it over the back of a nearby chair.

Picking up the leash I led her over to the pole. I backed her up to the pole and told her to raise her arms overhead. It would be the manacles for Elaine. I snapped them onto her wrists. I danced around her a couple times then removed her shoes. After a bit more dancing around, I pulled her blouse loose from her waist band and began unbuttoning it. A bit more cavorting and unbuttoning and Elaine’s blouse hung open.

She was wearing a front hook bra. I’d been waiting for one of these. I unhooked it. I thought for sure she’d bail, but she didn’t say a word. I pulled the halves of the bra to the sides. Elaine had small conical breasts. It was difficult to keep my hands off them, but mauling her tits in front of the crowd would blow the effect I was trying to create. I danced away, then returned. I placed the quirt under her chin, then drew it down her body. I withdrew again.

Elaine remained chained to the pole longer than any of her predecessors, but finally I wrapped it up and carried her back to her table. Elaine was the first loner I’d chosen. All the others had been returned to a table occupied by their friends. I put Elaine in her chair, draped her jacket over her shoulders, and put her shoes back on her. As I bent to kiss her hand, she whispered, “Why me? Why did you choose me?”

“You knew you would be chosen. How could you doubt it?” I turned away walked back to the stage.

On a whim, I had left Elaine’s collar on her. As soon as I left the stage, she headed for the ladies room to put herself back together. She returned a few minutes later, all fixed up and looking just like she did when she arrived, except she was wearing the collar. She had one more drink and then left, still wearing the collar. Definitely touched between the ears. I hoped I had done the same to/for the rest of the audience.

The following week I chose a girl who refused to go. She just wouldn’t do it. I’d never heard a room full of women hiss and boo before, but that’s what they did. It sort of blew the mood I’d tried to set up, but I chose another and things went much as before. This started me thinking. A girl who refused at the outset wasn’t too much of a problem, but if one ever bailed out in the middle, after she was chained to the pole, there was no way to recover. It would blow the whole evening. The chances of this happening were reduced by the reaction of the audience to the girl who’d refused to go this evening, but the chances of a bail out were much greater if I stripped a woman completely. I decided that when I completely stripped a woman, it would have to be a put-up job. It would have to be somebody I knew who knew what was coming.

I knew just the person. My sister Barbara was 26, 3 years older than me. We loved each other, but had always fought when we were kids. She had often made my life miserable in the ways only a big sister can. Having grown up with her, I knew how to push a few of her buttons, too. I thought I could probably talk her into it. Also, the idea of stripping my big sister in public had an element of payback to it that was very appealing. The next day I gave her a call.

“Hey, Barb. This is Dave.”

“I know who you are, Dave. I’ve heard your voice all my life.”

See what I mean? This was really going to be fun.

“I need your help with something.”

“Oh? What’s up.”

“You know that part time job I’ve got?”

“You mean that stripper act? I’ve heard about that. It’s disgusting. Why don’t you get a real job?”

“You mean a real job like the packing house?”

“You know what I mean. How could I help you with your act, anyway? You need someone to undress you?”

“Just the opposite. I’ve changed the act. I don’t undress anymore. I undress the customers. I want to undress you.”

“David, you’re completely nuts. You’ve always been crazy, but this is the weirdest thing you’ve ever come up with. You want your sister to get up on stage with you and take her clothes off? Dream on.”

“No, I don’t want you to take your clothes off. I want to take your clothes off. You’ll be chained to a pole.”

“DAVID! How could you… I’m your sister… I wouldn’t… Fuck you, Dave.”

I knew I was getting her goat when she started to splutter like that.

“It pays REALLY well, Barb.”

“Oh? How much?”

“$500. Cash.”

“I really don’t think I could do that. I just couldn’t.”

“Well, think about it. If you change your mind, give me a call. Bye, sis.”

“Bye, Dave.”

Notice how fast she calmed down once I mentioned the money? Like I said, I could push her buttons, too. She’d come around. That was more money than she made in a week. She just needed some time to spend the money in her head. Barb also had a bit of exhibitionist in her soul. She would never admit it, but I knew the idea would appeal to her. I was confident she’d call back. This wasn’t going to happen for a couple of months, so there was no rush.

In the meantime, I continued with my act. Each week, I’d select a girl from the crowd, lead her to the stage on a leash, chain her to the pole and remove some portion of her clothing. One night I noticed a couple in the crowd. I was puzzled by this since Ted didn’t normally let guys in on ladies night. That was the whole point. The women could come in for an evening of entertainment with their friends without being hit on every 2 minutes by some guy with a really bad pickup line. There were plenty of other places they could go if they wanted to get picked up.

Naturally, that was the girl I chose. He just sat there and quietly watched while I cuffed her and buckled the collar on her throat. As I led her away on the leash, she looked over her shoulder at him. He nodded toward the stage. She turned and followed on the leash. I put her through the usual routine, except that the I only removed her shoes and unbuttoned her blouse. Instead of carrying her back to the table, I led her on the leash. I handed her shoes, the keys to the handcuffs, and the end of her leash to the guy. He told her to sit down and continued drinking his beer. When he finished, he got up to leave. He had her shoes in one hand and her leash in the other. She followed behind, hands still cuffed behind her. I was envious. That was exactly what I wanted to do, take one of these ladies home on a leash. Ted later told me the couple were friends of his for whom he’d made an exception. He’d told them about my act and they’d wanted to see it. Ted had warned them that she might find herself a participant. I later got the collar and cuffs back. I wondered if he’d acquired his own set.

The next week, as I was cruising the room making my selection, a girl stood up as I passed her table. “Choose me. I’ll go.”

I stopped and circled around her, looked her up and down. “You’re very attractive,” I told her (she was), “but you don’t do the choosing. I do.” This exchange went over the PA. I moved on. I considered my point made. I usually preferred some ambivalence in the one chosen. I found that more exciting and the audience identified better with a choice who wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be there.

Even so, the following week I noticed a girl in the front row wearing a collar similar to the one I’d been using. She had long hair, but she wore it up so you couldn’t miss the collar. Although she was an obvious volunteer (exactly the thing I had rejected the previous week), I chose her. Her name was Cindy. I liked the idea of women coming to the club wearing collars and I knew that if her ploy was successful, there would be more of them next time. Fortunately, once I got her hands cuffed behind her and snapped a leash on her collar, she didn’t seem quite so eager. Nonetheless, there needed to be a price for her forward behavior. I was going to have to carry things a little farther with her. After the usual inspection, I locked her in the manacles. She was wearing a front hook bra, which didn’t surprise me. After I unhooked it, I unbuttoned her skirt and slid it down her legs. After I got her skirt off, I unlocked the manacles and turned her to face the pole and locked them back on her. Then I cuffed her ankles. I had a pair of ankle cuffs laying behind the pole. The chain was short enough that she had to stand with a foot on either side of the pole. This was new. I’d never chained a girl with her back to the audience before nor had I chained anyone’s ankles. Cindy looked apprehensively over her shoulder trying to see what I was doing. I spanked her. I gave her about 20 or 25 strokes of the quirt on the butt and the back of the thighs. I didn’t spank her hard, but hard enough to elicit an occasional yelp. I saw Ted standing off by the side of the stage. He was nervous. He’d gotten used to me chaining his customers and partially undressing them, but I’d never beaten one before. I could tell he was ready to step in if this got out of hand. It didn’t. I’d intensify each blow until I got a yelp out of Cindy, then back off and repeat the process. I finally took Cindy down and carried her back to her table.

Tags: Fetish, Story