Wendell was in the middle of a major disconnect with the outside world. In his mind, he made himself invisible, so that no one was there besides him and the dancers. He didn’t hear the crowd screaming for the girls to hurt him. There was no crowd. The only sound he heard was the bl**d rushing in his head. The only things he saw were the g-strings and legs of whoever was dancing in front of him. The laughing, abusive men were just background players in a movie: a movie starring Wendell as the man taped to the stripper pole with the everlasting erection.
His erection was his best friend lately. It certainly wasn’t reason. Reason, and it’s running buddy, logic, had abandoned him. If it was up to them Wendell would’ve never come to this strip club in the first place. Why come to a place were teasing and heartache are what’s for sale? And why did you put up with all of Diana’s extra bullshit on top of it? Crawling to her, begging her for a dance, sucking her sweaty toes while she talked shit about you with her girlfriends? None of it made sense – unless the erection was there.
When the erection was there, everyone else was overruled. His erection demanded that he suck her toes. Sucking her toes brings me to life, argues the erection. So does the feel of her panties against your face, the scent of her body, and even the very thought of her. I, the erection, don’t give a flying fuck what happens to the rest of you as long as I get mine. Your ego, your pride, your money… fuck all of it, and give into me.
Whenever he had a doubt as to the sanity of humiliating himself for the pleasure of a bitchy teen goddess, his erection threw fits. His erection slammed doors. His erection screamed and yelled and stomped it’s feet until Wendell gave in. And now, Wendell was completely at it’s mercy. His erection was now the only thing that could save him from a complete mental breakdown.
Every so often, the erection would go away and the world would come back to take away little pieces of him. He heard insults and whistles. He became acutely aware of his nudity, save for the makeshift pouch that Diana had made out of his ripped up boxers and tied around his small cock and balls. His legs and shoulders ached because of the way he was bound, kneeling on the hard floor. He despaired over the camera that recorded every minute of his degradation.
When he softened, the girl dancing would be booed because of his lack of showmanship, and more often than not, he was kicked in the balls for it. Several times he was kicked so viciously that he gagged into the balled up panties in his mouth and nearly fainted. Knees to his chest and open-handed slaps to his face would usually follow, skewing the aromatic thong that had been placed over his nose.
Then, out of the foggy shadows of his pain, a new girl would appear, rubbing her bare ass cheeks back and forth against his face, or pressing his nose and mouth against the soft layer of cotton that hid her precious pussy. His erection would return, triumphant over common sense, and the world would once again go far, far away.
Wendell felt like he’d had been onstage forever. Every girl available to put in stage time had taken a turn with him. He watched the last dancer – a tall brunette who had been rubbing the toe of her high-heeled shoe against his cock – bending over to pick up her money. She looked like an Italian model and had sneered at him, laughing, while he rubbed himself against the toe of her pump. She’d left him moaning softly into his panty gag, uselessly thrusting his hips, and with an ever-widening pre-cum stain showing on his ragged pouch.
This is how Diana found him.
She marched over to Wendell, smirking, and shoved her perfect titties down towards his upturned face. They were barely held in place by the tight white men’s tank-top that she wore. She also was wearing baggy, black, pleated pants and a pair of black Doc Martins. Wendell didn’t understand the outfit at first. He was too lust-soaked to comprehend it all. Not even when he saw that her hair had been gelled back into a tight bun on her head, and the pencil-thin moustache drawn on her lip did he realize what was to happen to him.
“Ready for the big finish, candy ass?” she said, leaning in so that her breasts were inches from his face.
Wendell nodded and thrust his hips, trying to make himself cum. He was ready for anything.
To Wendell’s relief, Diana immediately yanked her smelly thong (soiled from an earlier romp with a jizz-happy male stripper that worked at the club on Sunday and Monday nights) from his face and undid his gag (featuring an even fouler pair of panties she’d found abandoned on the dressing room floor), and threw them into the off-stage darkness.
Wendell was dry-mouthed and parched – and still vainly humping his cock into thin air. He might as well not have bothered, but he was getting some friction on his cock-head from the tattered pouch that surrounded his genitals, and that gave him hope.
Diana ordered him to open his mouth and stick out his tongue. “Open wider, stupid. Stick it out farther.” Then, she popped her right breast out of her wife-beater T, and placed her exquisite eighteen-year-old nipple against the flat of his tongue.
Slowly, she squeezed cool water from a sports bottle on the top of her breast so that it ran down to her nipple and into his mouth. Some of it dribbled down the sides of his mouth as he tried to swallow as much as he could without appearing to move or lick her. “That’s right baby. Drink it all down,” she cooed. Wendell had never been allowed to touch his tongue to her body before, unless it was to suck on her sweaty toes and feet. It was only the second nipple that was ever in his mouth in his life. As small of a gesture as it must have seen to her, it meant the world to him. It was a moment of nirvana that he would remember forever. He hunched against his pouch with purpose now.
After emptying the bottle, Diana stood up and pushed her breast back into her shirt. Wendell was stupefied from having a nipple in his mouth for thirty seconds. He was pathetic. Turning to the audience, she smirked while she undid and lowered her pants. She then shimmied backwards into Wendell so that his face was right in her thong-covered ass – a place his face was getting used to. So many women had shoved their asses in his face that night that he couldn’t remember them all. Diana peered back over her shoulder at her hapless little toy, his nose right at the top of her ass crack and his eyes pleading for mercy.
“Like my ass, bug?” she asked.
Wendell was afraid to speak.
“Well, fart-face? I asked you a question.” She bounced he ass against his nose for emphasis. “Do,” bounce. “You,” bounce. “Like,” bounce. “My,” bounce. “Sweet ass?” Bounce, bounce.
He mumbled into the wisp of fabric that separated his lips from her ass-crack. “Y-yes, Miss Diana. I love your ass. Yes.”
“I can’t hear you, homo. Say it louder. Yell it out so everyone can hear you while you lick the sweat off of it. Go ahead. Tell me how much you love sucking on my butt.” She wiggled against him for encouragement.
Wendell slobbered against her bare ass-cheeks, licking and slurping, sucking them like a madman. “I love your ass!” he yelled, over and over. “I love sucking on your beautiful ass!” Her ass was firm and smooth. It was an ass that had been put through years of dance classes and gymnastics. It was an ass that caused car accidents, train wrecks, and suicides. Kissing her ass made Wendell’s dick scream like Daffy Duck.
He could feel her butt undulating against him as the crowd let out a roar. She pressed it harder into his face as if she was fucking him with it.
“Oh god! I love your ass!” He mumbled now, trying to concentrate his thoughts. He loathed to take his lips off of her to speak. “Oh god…”
He began to drool. Saliva ran down his chin and onto the floor. His cock was about to split in two from the pressure.
“It’s so beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful…” his voice trailed off. His nose was being mashed into his head by her flawless butt cheeks.
His balls tightened. He opened his mouth wide and sucked on her sweaty teen ass like a baby on a bottle.
Suddenly, Diana pulled her pants up and fastened them. Whirling around, she grabbed him tightly by the hair, and shoved a hefty strap-on dildo into his mouth. It stuck out of the zipper opening of her pants, looking like it was part of her. It was thick and realistic looking, with large balls. It was what the crowd was cheering about – her whipping out her unit and wagging it around before forcing it on him.
Wendell gagged as it slid wetly in and out of his virgin mouth. Oh god, he thought. No. Not this.
Diana didn’t seem to notice. She gripped his wavy hair so tight that it hurt him. It was just long enough for her to get a strong grip on it without worrying about her hands slipping loose. He thought she was going to pull it out at the roots. Her thrusts into his mouth were a****listic and unrelenting, stabbing him with a horrible demonic rage.
“Oh. My. God. I can feel this right. Against. My clit,” she said through clenched teeth. “Holy. Fucking. Shit.”
Wendell was helpless against her as she worked her way towards orgasm. She’d cum in front of him before, but never with such an intense build-up. The others had been from grinding herself on his face with her panties on. At least then Wendell was able to thrill to the scent of her young cunt and the sweet wetness of her lace undies. Now, he had nothing but a foul-tasting length of industrial rubber sliding in and out of his drooling wet lips and the everlasting humiliation of a public ****.
“Ooooh… whoooo…” she yelled. She had never been this vocal. Her other orgasms had been quieter, moaning affairs. This one was coming on like a hurricane.
Her thrusts slowed as she tried to steady her grinding pussy against the base of the dildo. Yelling “Oh!” and “God!” she banged into him, forcing her strap-on further and further into his unwilling face with each stroke.
Wendell endured it all stoically – and why not? He was already a ruined man; his still erect, pre-cum drenched cock a testament to his weakness. He closed his eyes and endured while the strap-on dildo slipped in and out across his lips and tongue in a steadily building hard-fuck rhythm.
It was only a matter of minutes before she came, though it seemed like an eternity to Wendell. And when she finished, she finished with a fury; first gripping his head for support, then grabbing the dance pole with both hands and banging the back of his head against it a half-dozen times with her final ecstatic throes.
Cheers from the crowd of d***ken men and half-dressed dancers rang in Wendell’s ears as she collapsed onto the stage floor, her legs kicked wide open and her arms raised victoriously. The dildo, still slimy and wet with Wendell’s saliva, towered triumphantly out of her pants. He slumped against his bonds, wondering when it would all end.
Little did he know, that this was just the beginning.
Diana couldn’t believe it. She had no idea that she could get off by fucking someone with one of these things. Or get off so big! She meant to just humiliate her little loser by making him blow her, but ended up with the most awesome body-rocking climax of her teenaged life. She made a mental note to fuck someone else with this dildo of hers, and soon.
Her legs were still shaking from her orgasm as she cut Wendell loose and led him off the stage by his hair. He kept grabbing at her arms and yelling “Ow! Ow! Ow!” but she ignored him. Like she gave a shit if it hurt him when she yanked his hair.
Without knocking, she threw open the door of Kari’s office and jerked Wendell in after her. As expected, the office was empty, save for Karolyn who sat on the couch dressed exactly like Diana. The only difference was that the cock sticking out of Karolyn’s pants was a little shorter and a little thicker than hers.
Diana had to stifle a laugh. How did she come to this? She and her best friend dressed like men and wearing strap-ons, about to complete the humiliation and blackmail of a total stranger chosen only for his amenable nature and money? Why was she enjoying this so much? She flashed back on her life with men so far, thinking how fate had prepared her for this.
The first man in her life, her father, was an aloof d***k who abandoned her mother and her when she was nine. Her mother then began drinking and sl**ping around, leaving Diana to raise herself. She remembered the parade of leering “Uncles” sitting at their breakfast table while she cooked them the little food they had. They smelled of sweat and cheap sex and said things like “Shit, baby, you didn’t tell me you had a fucking k**,” and “Hey look, she’s got titties already. She’s gonna be a little heartbreaker when she grows up. Just like her Momma.”
She was thirteen when she made her Earth Sciences teacher jack off in front of her while she did nothing more than sit on the edge of his desk and watch. At f******n, she was dating four boys at the same time. Each one got extensive pussy-eating lessons as she gradually learned what she liked and didn’t like done to her. None of them got any relief in return. At fifteen, she was making two of the nerds from the academic all-star club do all of her homework. For their hard work, she quit beating them up after school. On her sixteenth birthday, the assistant principal bought her a Mustang convertible. In return, she didn’t call his wife and tell her to check his credit-card bills to find out where he’d been taking one of his star students so he could be taken over her knee and spanked.
During her senior year, while she was s*******n, she blossomed. With her school life fully under control, she became a regular at every hot nightclub and restaurant in Tampa. She was never asked for an ID, never stood in a line, and never paid for anything. Her ass was her pass. Rich, married men showered her with gifts and ate her pussy for hours, getting nothing in return. Her favorite saying was “Hike your skirt up, call them honey, kick their ass and take their money”. It was Girl 101.
All of her life, she’d taken advantage of the power that came with being achingly beautiful. And now with Wendell, she was really going to get to cut loose. What was it that Kari, the owner of the club, said to her after she got her friend Karolyn to lick her has-been pussy? “Baby, you keep getting my pussy licked like that, and as long as you don’t break any rules out on the floor, you can do whatever you want with that motherfucker.”
She let Wendell go and walked over to the door, closing and locking it. Wendell rubbed his head where his hair was nearly yanked out. “You okay sweetie?” Karolyn asked. It was the first time either of them had ever said something nice to him.
Before he could answer, Diana said “Pull off that stupid pouch Wendell. Let’s see that dick of yours.” Wendell looked at her with a start. She’d never called him by his name before without making fun of it. He scrambled to rip the cloth from around his penis before they both changed their minds.
Karolyn stood, and with her cock swinging, joined Diana in surprising Wendell by kissing him and playing with his saggy man-tits. He was pinned between them, naked and weak-kneed, unable to resist their advances.
In a few minutes, he was wearing white lace panties with a matching bra, black high heeled pumps, and a white blouse that was tied at the front like a halter. Diana had picked his sizes perfectly. His face and neck was covered in lipstick smudges from his two tormenters.
She couldn’t believe how cute and feminine the scrawny dork looked. He really did have a soft little body. He actually looked better in panties than he did dressed as a man. And as long as they were smooching on him and feeding him baby-talk bullshit, he couldn’t put on his girl clothes fast enough.
While he struggled to put his lingerie on, they told him that the more girly he acted and the more he played with their cocks, the better they liked it. He fell for it. He even play-acted a bit and wiggled around for them, fondling their cocks feverishly while they pretended to get turned on.
Diana pushed him onto the leather couch. The couch was in the empty area in front of Kari’s desk and faced a large mirror. In front of the couch was a matching foot-stool that Karolyn shoved aside with her foot as she plopped down next to Wendell.
They both snapped on a pair of surgical gloves. Karolyn squeezed a large dollop of goop from a tube into Diana’s palm. Diana leaned in and began licking Wendell’s ear. He gasped. She moaned softly “Oh God I love this,” and brought a gloved hand full of Vaseline down his panties and onto his wee penis. Karolyn ripped his top open and began vociferously sucking on his nipples like he was her prison bitch. Her gloved hand joined Diana’s, stroking his teensy balls.
“Oh God,” he whimpered. Through the gloves, Diana could feel his heartbeat pulsing from his boy-sized cock.
“Put your hands on our cocks,” she whispered to him, while she kissed and licked his face. “Keep your hands on our cocks and we’ll keep our hands on yours.” Wendell immediately reached out, fumbling for their massive faux fuck-sticks, grabbing them like ski poles. He gripped them so hard his knuckles turned white.
Here was the view from the three cameras hidden behind the two-way mirror, all catching different angles of the action: Wendell, dressed like a cheap whore, was in the middle of the couch with his legs spread wide. What looked like very pretty men were on each side of him, with giant cocks sticking out of their pants. Wendell had a vice-grip on each of the giant cocks, his hands and arms shaking like he was jacking them off. The she-men had their hands deep inside Wendell’s girly panties, covering his undersized equipment so that it was impossible to tell that Wendell even had a cock at all. From the way they sucked on his saggy man-titties and were stroking him under his panties, it looked like two men taking advantage of a pretty, flat-chested girl, both furiously finger-banging her at the same time.
It was just as Diana planned it.
“Oh, you nasty bitch,” she snarled at him, her fingers flicking across his cock head. “You nasty fucking whore.”
In between her sweet-talk, Diana heard him use the word “love”, and heard about how he thought of nothing else since he met her. He confessed how much he masturbated while he thought of her, and exactly what he thought of her when he did.
When she’d heard enough, she increased the tempo of her rubber-clad fingers on his pitiable piddle-stick and began talking low and sexy into his ear. “Mmmmm, baby. I always knew you loved me. And you know what? I have feelings for you too. I want you to always be there for me. Being with you turns me on so much. I want you to always be there to kiss my ass for me and suck on my sweaty toes. I want you to sniff my pussy every night, baby. Say you’ll be my little bitch forever. My ass licker. My foot slave. My little pussy sniffer. My pussy-whipped little panty bitch. Will you be my little panty bitch, baby? Huh? My little panty-sniffing bitch? Putting your face between my legs and sniffing my panties forever and ever and ever – “
“Agggh!” Wendell screamed. His hands jerked uncontrollably up and down on their cocks. “Agggh! Accck! Ohhh!”
It was perfect, Diana thought, as she and Karolyn quickly removed their hands from him and let his cum dribble out into his pretty lace underpants. The most pathetic man in the world, completely ruined by a heartless eighteen-year old girl. Publicly humiliated and teased; then ****d; then dressed in panties and a bra and made to cum while yanking on two big dicks. All while being charged top dollar for it on his credit cards, and all caught on tape. A tape that Diana couldn’t wait to start editing. A tape that Wendell would probably pay good money to keep off of her new website.
The only part she and Karolyn felt squeamish about was jacking him off. A regular customer, sure, they would always find a way to secretly jack those guys off in the VIP booths. But a wimp like Wendell? She hated having to pretend to like him and nuzzle up to him like that. The gloves helped. At least she didn’t really have to touch his gross infant dick that way.
Besides, it’s not like she was ever going to touch him like that again. And letting him cum made her feel a little less sorry for him. After all, he wasn’t going to have another orgasm for a long, long, time.
TO BE CONTINUED……..