Arnold Davidson’s daily visits to the Krazy Kat Klub changes one dancer’s life in a way she would never imagine.
WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.
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Arnold Davidson sat on the stage-front barstool at the Krazy Kat Klub just as he had done every night for the past two and a half weeks. He was relatively young– mid to late twenties– and there was a military bearing to the way he stood and walked. But his slight limp and some obvious, but muted, scars on the right side of his face made it clear that his fighting days were behind him.
The girls called him “fiver on a budget,” meaning that he threw five dollar bills onto the stage or tucked them into the girls’ g-strings when they did their bump and push-ass moves really close to the front of the stage, but he obviously had a set limit of how many bills he would give them on any given night.
The girls could always tell what money came from him because he folded all of his bills into little paper airplanes. Some of the other customers did that, but they also often tried to hit the girls in very sensitive areas with the pointed end of their one-dollar airplanes. Fiver’s bills were unique, and not only because they were fives. He folded his bills in advance in a special way so that the front was not pointed, but was rather squared off. It made it a little harder to unfold, but there was no danger of a sharp point hitting something sensitive.
The bartenders and servers had a different name for Arnold. They called him “One-eyed Jack,” because he had an obvious glass eye. The color of the iris, a dark brown, matched his left eye pretty well, but the white was really bright and the glass eye didn’t quite track the same as his other eye. You couldn’t tell any of that when he had his glasses on because they were slightly tinted gray and somewhat hid the differences between the glass and real eye. Evidently those glasses were also auto-darkening because when the bright lights came on for the dancers, the lenses would become almost black.
Arnold / Fiver / One-eyed Jack had become a regular at the Krazy Kat Klub. Everyone assumed he was in town for some long-range job or something and that he had a food or housing allowance that gave him the money that he was flying onto the stage nightly and using to pay for his drinks as well as the extra cover charge for the stage-front seat.
They were right. Except it wasn’t exactly a long-range job. Arnold, a former Marine MP, was a private investigator, and he was on a long-term assignment with the liquor commission. There were rumors that the Krazy Kat had a special Saturday night after-hours show that violated state and local liquor and decency laws. Several different agencies had tried several times to prove those violations, but every attempt failed. Arnold, however, was the perfect PI to get the proof. You see, Arnold’s glass eye was more than a cosmetic aid to make him look more normal. It was a camera.
The camera in Arnold’s right eye did not transmit to some agents hiding in a truck outside. Instead it stored everything internally to be downloaded later. The only shortcoming was that it couldn’t capture audio at the same time. Tears and the blinking of his eyelid would interfere too much with the audio. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem for Arnold because he would just wear a wire that could later be synchronized with the video. But he couldn’t wear a wire at the Krazy Kat Klub. He couldn’t use anything that transmitted a signal because Big Juan, the owner of the club, had installed just about every known type of sophisticated surveillance detection equipment. Anyone wearing a wire or even with their cellphone on was very forcefully shown the door. There was a big sign at the entrance that said, “All cellphones OFF. All anything OFF. If it’s on, you’re OUT.”
If the bouncers even suspected you were recording the girls, you would have to have a really good explanation or get thrown out... after they had used one of their special machines to delete all of the videos from your cellphone. And those special apps which supposedly hide the videos stored on your phone didn’t help. Big Juan had better apps that could find anything and everything on your phone. If you had a small video recorder of some sort that you thought was well hidden in your clothing, well that triggered the sensors. After a quick search of your clothing, it was stomped under the bouncer’s boot and the pieces dropped in the trash. Then you were bounced out of the club... literally.
The fact that Big Juan was so careful about things only made the local liquor and law enforcement people even more determined to find out what was going on. And they were determined enough to hire an out-of-town private investigator with a special glass eye camera.
The third day Arnold was there, the security screens detected something. Two of the big bouncers took him back to the office area and asked him to empty his pockets... and then take off his jacket... and then his shirt, and shoes and pants and even his underwear. A hand held sweep beeped loudly as it passed over Arnold’s face.
“May I get something out of my billfold?” he asked politely.
The bouncers grunted at him and he pulled his billfold from his pants and removed two pictures. They were x-rays of his head showing several plates and screws... and a small electronics unit with wires going all over the inside of his head.
“I keep these for when I have to fly,” he said flatly. “It saves a lot of time. The plates are from when they put my head back together. The wiring is for an anti-seizure system. It detects when something is going to happen and sort of short circuits it.”
Big Juan stepped out of the shadows and said, “Sorry about the misunderstanding.” He handed Arnold a small square coupon that said, “One Free Admission and First Drink” on it. Arnold said, “Thanks,” put his clothes back on and went back to his stage-front stool.
Six weeks passed and Arnold continued his nightly routine. He befriended, of sorts, one of the dancers. Her name was Tiffany. From the way she said it, that was probably her real name. Arnold didn’t press her for a last name. She had a dancer’s body with somewhat small breasts, a well-rounded ass, silky brown hair that hung well below her shoulders, and legs that seemed to go on forever. She wasn’t the youngest one out there on the stage, but she was the “freshest”– meaning that she didn’t have that artificial face and smile of many of the dancers. Her smile was natural, but Arnold thought he could see a hint of pain in her eyes as she danced.
Their strange friendship started one night when she was doing ass thrusts directly in front of him. Her rosebud was basically on full display for an instant with only the fine line of a G-string nestled in her ass crack. She had her hands on her knees and was rotating slowly so she was twerking at him and the others seated in the front row. Arnold timed it very carefully as he sent a fiver plane flying directly at her ass. His timing... and his aim... were perfect. The fiver plane hit dead center on her rosebud just as the twerk brought her asscheeks together.
She stood up suddenly, breaking the rhythm of her dance and grabbed the folded bill from her ass crack. She laughed and then smiled at him as she continued to dance across the stage in sort of a hop-skip as she smiled out at the crowd. She held up the fiver plane for others to see and used her fingers to show that it was blunt and not pointed. She picked up a pointed one dollar plane from the stage and shook her finger back and forth indicating that such a fold was a not desired. For the rest of that night, and then every night, she would ass catch several of Arnold’s fiver planes each evening. And she would often come out to talk to him between her routines. Arnold was somewhat surprised that she didn’t push him to buy her drinks. She was more than somewhat surprised that Arnold treated her like a normal person.
Thursday night she came out to talk to him. As usual, she was wearing a short, thin, black robe so that she conformed to the liquor and anti-solicitation laws for performers mingling with the crowd. But she wasn’t smiling. In fact, her face was devoid of all emotion. “They want me to invite you to the special after hours show,” she said softly. She looked down at the floor and said, “I don’t like doing those shows, but Big Juan has videos of me on stage and he says that if I don’t do them, he will post those videos on line so I can never get any job other than this.” She looked up, shrugged, and her face looked almost panicked. “I’m not sure he wouldn’t do it anyway. That’s why I haven’t applied for any jobs.”
“What job would you like to get?” Arnold asked.
She laughed and then said, “Would you believe an accountant? I had to drop out of high school to help my mother, but she’s gone now. I went back and finished high school and then college.” She hung her head and said flatly, “I think you can guess how I managed to pay for that.” Then she looked up and continued. “I’ve passed my CPA tests,” she said brightly, “so all I have to do is work under someone’s supervision for a year to be fully licensed.”
Her head hung down again and she said flatly, “But who wants to hire a stripper accountant?”
“You’d be amazed,” Arnold said. For some reason his voice was also flat and emotionless.“So when is this special show?” he asked. “And what is the password or whatever.”
“Saturday night, two-thirty am,” she replied. “The password is Ben Franklin, and President Grant plus an Andrew Jackson tip will get you your regular front row bar stool.”
“How much are the drinks?” he asked.
“Double what they are on regular nights,” she answered. Then she looked down slightly and added, “but the show is worth it.”
“Can you come out and sit with me after your routine?” he asked.
“Juan demands that we do that,” she said timidly, looking down at the ground. “I’m only in the opening dance,” she said a little firmer. Then almost angrily she said, “That’s where he starts everyone until he can convince us... or force us... to do the rest of the show.”
She took a deep breath and then said in almost a sign, “I will come out and sit with your after the opening.”
“Wear at least what you have on now,” he said, “or something thicker.”
She again looked down at the floor. Then, after a long silence she said, almost stuttering, “Juan wants us out here naked.”
“The customer... who will be paying for your very overpriced drinks,” Arnold said firmly, “... wants you clothed,” Then he laughed slightly and said, “It’s important to me.” After a pause, he added, “And it will be very important to you. Better yet, wear your regular clothes and make sure you have your purse or billfold or whatever with your student ID in it. If anyone objects, tell them that I am paying extra for you to look like my date.”
Tiffany looked up at him confused. Then she smiled. She seemed somehow very relieved as she said, “The customer is always right.” She stood up and turned to leave. As she walked away she said, “See you Saturday night.”
Arnold was there for the regular Saturday night show. His aim seemed to be off, or maybe Tiffany was intentionally not fully twerking when she was directly facing him with her rosebud. None of his fiver-planes hit home. As usual, Arnold stayed until closing at two am. Then he went out to his car and waited. He was parked in the back of the lot so he could see the lot empty and the lights go out. The dancing Krazy Kat sign also went dark. The only visible light was the “Closed” sign in the window next to the door.
A little before two-thirty some cars started arriving. In some cities, that would be enough of a reason to raid the place, but the Krazy Kat Klub was located in an unincorporated strip between two towns. Only county laws applied, and Big Juan had a four o’clock license. He legally could stay open until four if he wanted to so there was nothing that could be done unless someone could prove what was going on. And eye witness testimony, even that of a law officer, wasn’t enough. Big Juan had scores of his own witnesses and videos with doctored date and time stamps to show that the weekly show was just a little more suggestive than the regular shows.
The dancing Krazy Kat on the roof remained dark, but the “Closed” sign went off. No “Open” sign replaced it. Instead, the dim lighting visible through the closed blinds in the windows was all that indicated that the place might be open.
Arnold waited until a half-dozen cars were in front of the club and then walked up to the door. As Tiffany had said, it cost $100 to get in and $50 for his stage front seat. He didn’t forget the $20 tip to the bouncer who led him to his stool.
At exactly three a.m. Big Juan stepped out onto the stage from between the curtains. He smiled at everybody and said, “Is everybody ready to have some fun?”
The crowd roared back, “Yeah!” and he laughed.
Then he leaned in slightly and said “Make sure that your cellphones are completely off.” He wagged his finger at the crowd and said, “I don’t mean on “Do Not Disturb”, I mean OFF!” He held up his arm as if looking at his watch and said, “I’m giving you one minute.”
Exactly one minute later, the whole place buzzed with a strange humming sound. Arnold grabbed his head and groaned. At one of the tables near the front a man jumped up slapping at the front of his shirt. He grabbed something and threw it on the floor where it burst into flames.
Big Juan laughed a deep, evil laugh and said, “I told you to turn your phones OFF! And if any of you have any sort of recording device, I think you will find that it no longer works.”
Arnold touched the side of his glasses. A soft flash of colors showed on his glasses indicating that the video projection had not been damaged. The colors flashed rapidly and a soft beep deep within his skull indicated that the glass eye camera was also still functional. The glasses had been off, and the screening that held his head together had acted as a shield to protect his magic eye. Arnold was ready for the show.
There was a long, fast, loud, drum beat from the sound system and then Big Juan’s voice boomed over the sound system. “Let’s give a big welcome to the Krazy Kat Klub dancers!”
The curtains opened revealing six young women, including Tiffany, dancing in a classic Can-can line. It didn’t look much different than the start of the regular Krazy Kat show routine except that when the dresses flashed up high it was apparent that there was nothing... not even a g-string... under those dresses.
After the girls danced several times across the stage, they did the customary turn and bend over move so they could flip their dresses up over their backs. Arnold let out an angry breath, but kept his head steady. His eye camera was recording everything. There was a flickering of light from his projection glasses that may or may not have been a reflection of the stage lights.
He watched as Tiffany and the others slowly pulled their long gloves from their arms and tossed them off stage. Then they all repeated the flip the dress up over your back routine, but this time when they turned back to face the audience, the dresses dropped to the floor.
On a normal night, there would be underwear and a short chemise under the dresses, but for this special show, there was nothing... no pasties... no g-string... nothing. Six girls were standing on the stage naked kicking their legs high into the air.
After a few minutes, the six danced toward the front of the stage and then turned around. This was the point in the dance whereArnold would sail a folded five-dollar bill into Tiffany’s rosebud. His aim was off or perhaps her twerks weren’t strong enough. In any case, the folded fives bounced off her asscheeks and dropped to the stage floor.
The girls bounced across the front of the stage going from stage left to stage right with each girl doing a relatively good kick step. Then the music ended and the stage lights went off. A bright spotlight illuminated Big Juan standing at the edge of the stage. In the dimness of the rest of the stage, six naked girls could be seen hurriedly scooping up the money spread across the stage. Arnold looked down at his hands and then threw another fiver airplane onto the stage. For some reason he kept looking down until all of the girls finished scooping up the cash. Then he looked directly at Big Juan whose sparkly suit glittered in the bright spotlight.
“That’s just our introduction,” Big Juan called out. “And those are our novice dancers. They will be coming out to join you for the rest of the show. If you buy them a glass of champagne, they will sit with your for a while.” He smiled... it was more of a leer than a smile... then he said loudly, “If you buy them a bottle, they will stay longer.” The leer almost split his face as he added, “... three bottles and they will sit with you through the whole show.”
Arnold had to stiffen his neck muscles to keep from shaking his head. He could feel bile and anger swelling up within his body. Then a soft voice next to him said, “I’m here. And I’m dressed like you asked.”
A naked waitress stepped in front of him. “Special requests mean special orders,” she said without the plastic smile leaving her face. “Four bottles of champagne at one hundred and fifty each is six hundred dollars.”
Arnold reached into the inside pocket of his coat, pulled out six Benjamins, and laid them on the table. He reached in again and laid a fifty next to the pile as a tip for the waitress.
“You want them all at once or one at a time?” The she asked with a light laugh.
“We will start with one,” Arnold said flatly. Big Juan knew how to fleece his clientele. A man might buy three bottles at four hundred and fifty dollars to keep a naked girl sitting with him for the rest of the show, but there is no way they would... or could... drink all three bottles of the overpriced champagne. If the girl was willing, they might go back to his place, but he would be told that he couldn’t take the extra bottles with him. Apparently any extra charges after that would be up to the girls.
“I never go home with them,” Tiffany said softly. Arnold looked over and her head was bowed down looking at the floor. “Some of the girls want to,” she said looking up at Arnold, “but the others go because they are just too desperate for money or too afraid of Juan.”
“Why don’t you go?” Arnold asked, looking directly at Tiffany.
“I don’t want to be trapped in this life,” she said firmly. “I am fighting tooth and nail to get out, but that son of a bitch is slowly dragging me down.”
In response, Arnold said firmly, “I need to watch the rest of the show.” Then he added, “Just stay close to me and sip your champagne slowly.” His face and voice took on a note of urgency as he said, “Whatever happens tonight, do not run. Don’t try to get away. Stay next to me. That is the only place you are totally safe.”
Tiffany looked puzzled at Arnold’s instruction, but she pulled her chair next to his and very slowly sipped on her champagne.
“And now,” Big Juan bellowed out, “we get to the interesting stuff.” He rubbed his hands, perhaps unconsciously, and said, “I present Madame le maître fouet and her pet soumise”
“That means Madame Whipmaster,” Arnold whispered without turning his head.
“And soumise means submissive,” replied Tiffany. “I took French in high school and college.”
“You continue to amaze me,” Arnold said without looking over at Tiffany. She looked like she was going to say something but instead picked up her champagne glass and took another small sip.
Two very beautiful women walked out onto the stage. One was dressed in a skin tight black leather cat suit including a black hood and mask. Arnold was a little surprised there were no cat ears on the hood. He was not surprised that the woman was carrying a large, obviously well-used bull whip.
She stood facing the crowd for a moment or two before snapping her whip out over the crowd several times. She was good. Or at least good enough to create an almost bullet firing sound each time the whip cracked.
The other part of the act was a much younger girl who was dressed in a flouncy school-girl style of dress with a somewhat puffy white blouse under it. She had on unbelievably high heels that caused her ass to almost snap back and forth as she walked around the stage. After making several laps on the stage and then walking along the front edge flirting with the customers, she returned to the center of the stage and stepped up onto a small platform.
“Stand very still,” the female whipmaster said very firmly. Then after snapping her whip closely in front of and behind the almost shaking girl she said angrily, “You will have to be restrained.” She looked at the edge of the stage curtain and shouted, “Franc, David, I need you.”
Two men walked out on stage. Franc was carrying two leather cuffs. David was carrying small strips of brown leather. The audience immediately knew which was which because both had their names in rather large white letters across the front and back of their black t-shirts.
Franc spoke in French and the girl held her hands forward. David didn’t speak, but silently began strapping soumise’s shoes... and feet... in place. When Franc had soumise’s hands firmly encased in the leather wrist cuffs, he made a signal to someone off stage and two black, steel cables descended from above. Franc quickly attached the cables to the cuffs and then made another signal.
The cables slowly pulled soumise’s hands above her head and then began to pull her body tight. Franc yelled out something and the cables stopped rising. David ran his hands over soumise’s legs perhaps to check for muscle tightness. Then he pushed his hands beneath her dress all the way up to her shoulders. He grinned out at the audience as he did that and several people laughed at his obvious attempt to cop a feel. When he pulled his hands out of soumise’s dress he gave a big thumb’s up sign to the audience.
Madame le maître fouet shook her head as if in disgust and said sharply, “Franc, David, you may leave.”
As the two men left on stage right, Madam Whipmaster stepped over to stage right and faced her submissive. There was a quick series of whip cracks alternating in front of and behind the obviously terrified soumise. Then Madam Whipmaster paused and took a deep breath and held it. She was holding her whip almost at her waist. The whole audience was holding their breath with her.
Suddenly the whip shot out underhand. Everyone expected it to snap loudly as it had done before, but this time there was no noise other than a scream from soumise as the dress was pulled back toward Madame le maître fouet. The shoulders and back seam of the dress were obviously break away but if she hadn’t been held taut she would have been pulled off of the platform. Instead she stood there trembling with a damp spot showing in her white underwear.
Madam Whipmaster shook her whip so that the dress untangled and puddled at her feet. Then she raised her whip hand high above her head. Again she took a deep breath and held it, and again the crowd held their breath with her. The whip sliced across the stage. Soumise again screamed. And the puffy white blouse was gone.
Now the trembling girl was dressed only in a rather small and tight brassiere and her wet white panties.
Madame le maître fouet turned to the audience and said, “This gets a little more difficult, so I ask that none of you speak or scream for the rest of my act.”
She then turned toward soumise and again held the whip high above her head. She snapped it once and then again and then took a deep breath. The whip made a light snapping noise that was muffled by soumise’s scream and her brassier was gone. Now her breasts were covered only by pasties that looked like sunflowers.
Tiffany leaned in close to Arnold and whispered, “It is not really possible to take the brassier off with the whip. David attached a fine nylon wire to the back. The whip will break the front open, but it is David who pulls the bra back under the curtain.”
Arnold let his eye roam quickly around the stage. Tiffany was right. The bra was nowhere to be seen.
“Push your cunt forward,” Madam ordered her submissive and soumise arched her body so that her pubic bone was the front of the arch.
The whip snapped out. Soumise screamed. And the white underpants disappeared.
Now soumise was standing in just pasties and a g-string with a sequined white triangle covering her clit and cunt. Actually, since there was no string around her waist, it was more likely a C string that was held in place by spring tension or perhaps a cunt or anal insert.
“I need my smaller whip for these intimate moments,” Madam Whipmaster said and Franc rushed out onto the stage. He handed her a much smaller whip and took the huge bullwhip back off stage.
Madam moved to stage front center and faced the audience. She smiled and then said, “It isn’t often that one gets to deflower a girl twice in the same show, but...” She then turned to face her submissive and began swinging the smaller whip underhand. After several swings the whip almost looked like a serpent writhing in her hand. Then it slashed out.
Soumise screamed and writhed in her restraints. One of her sunflowers was now laying on the stage behind Madam.
The whip slashed out a second time. Again soumise screamed and her second sunflower was now on the floor of the stage.
Madame le maître fouet turned to face the audience. There was an odd smile on her face. It was a smile that would strike fear into any submissive. “My dear followers,” she said. Her voice now had a very noticeable French accent. “My dear soumise has almost reached the end of her act. But there is a problem. That small triangle that you all want to see removed is held in place by a dildo that impales her cunt. There is no way I can pull that out with my whip.”
She laughed. “But my dear little soumise actually loves the whip.” Her face suddenly formed a pout, “No that isn’t right. She doesn’t love the whip. She hates it. ... But she needs it. She needs it so bad that she will come out here on stage and let me whip her until she has such a violent orgasm that she expels that cork from her cunt.”
Madam Whipmaster now moved to stand almost alongside soumise. Franc ran out and handed her a second whip. As she stood swinging the whips underhand the voice of Big Juan came over the speakers. “This is where the count starts for the French whip. Did you accurately guess how many strokes it is going to take to make soumise explode?”
Big Juan’s voice faded away and the club became silent except for the quiet swishing of the whips as the Madam prepared herself. Then the whips began snapping. Each snap landed on flesh. The whip in her right hand pecked at soumise’s ass, alternating between the left and right ass cheek. The whip in her left hand alternated between the left and right tit, striking either on the bottom side of the breast or directly on the nipple.
A low groaning moan began to fill the club. Soumise’s moan grew louder and shriller as the Madam continued her onslaught with her whips. As that moan slowly morphed into a high-pitched, shrill scream, Madam moved so that she was directly in front of soumise. Now one whip was tormenting each breast. Soumise had her head back and was screaming continuously. Suddenly she stopped, lifted her head and looked directly at Madam and said, “Now. It is now.”
Madam shifted her whips and brought them sideways across soumise’s ass. She was striking simultaneously causing soumise to jerk her body forward as the whips snapped across her ass cheeks.
Then soumise’s screamed changed. It again became deep and primal. She was shout-panting, “More, more, more, more.”
Madam again shifted her whips to attack soumise’s breasts. The shout now became, “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” until with a loud, shrill scream soumise exploded in orgasm. The C-clip popped out of soumise’s cunt as large quantities of liquid flowed out and down her legs. Then she collapsed, hanging unconscious in her restraints.
The audience began applauding and whooping and shouting. Madame le maître fouet stood bowing to the audience in the center of the stage. Big Juan came back out on stage and stood in the stage right spotlight. “Wasn’t that worth the cover charge?” he called out loudly. “And that is only the first act! We have two more acts to go.” He looked at something in his hand and said, “And that orgasm took fifty-seven strikes of the whip. Highest bet was only thirty-one. You guys need to talk to some heavy duty pain sluts like soumise before you place your bets.”
He gave a laugh and then said, “We will have a five-minute pause for you to order drinks or whatever. Back in five.”
The stage lights went out and Arnold turned to Tiffany. “If the cops raided this place,” he said very softly, “would you be willing to testify about how he coerced and threatened you?”
She huffed slightly and said, “That would mean that all of the tapes would be released.” Her shoulders slumped as she said, almost crying, “I might as well commit suicide.”
They sat there in silence until the spotlight once again illuminated Big Juan. A drum roll sounded from the speakers and he called out, “It’s time for our second act of the evening. I present to you Lithe Linda from India.”
A young woman walked out onto the stage. Oriental music, perhaps from a sitar, was playing. She was dressed in what appeared to be a blue Sari. All that was visible were her bare feet and her face. She swirled several times as she moved around the stage making eye contact with everyone in the audience. Then she suddenly stopped in the center of the stage. Her feet were pointed to the side. Beneath her flowing robe, her legs were obviously splayed. Her arms were held out so that her hands were level with her waist with the palms facing the crowd. She stood still for a couple of minutes, then her head began swaying from side to side. The rest of her body seemed to not be moving. After a few moments of this, her hands began moving and then disappeared. She had apparently pulled her arms completely under her sari.
The music changed and she began thumping around the stage. Somehow more and more of her legs were becoming visible. When her legs were exposed to a few inches above the knee the sari suddenly flew up. Her arms seemed to whirl as she unwound the cloth from their body.
She was now standing in a short blouse and a petticoat. Both were a slightly darker blue than the sari. She again put her body into the same pose as before with her feet pointed outward and her hands at waist level facing the crowd. She again started thumping her feet, but no where near as loudly as before. Somehow she was moving toward the front of the stage and then across the front. It looked like she was dancing in place and yet somehow she was moving.
After she had gone across the front of the stage, she moved back to stage center and began swaying with the music. Her hands seemed to be everywhere as they flowed up and down with the music. Suddenly her blouse was gone. Actually it was hanging from her right hand, but it was gone from her breasts. Her breasts were bare. They were smaller than most American breasts, but the dark brown nipples were very long.
The music continued and Linda again danced across the front of the stage. She was no longer thumping her feet but was rather almost running in very small steps. She kept her hands pressed together above her head and was again swaying her head back and forth as she danced.
She returned to the center of the stage and did something at the back of her petticoat. Then she started into a backbend that continued all the way until her head was now between her legs looking out at the crowd. The petticoat hung down loosely to hide her crotch as she small-stepped her way around the front of the stage.
When she returned to stage center, there was a drum roll and she reached up with her hands and pulled at the petticoat. In time with the loud end of the drumroll, Linda threw the petticoat to the side of the stage. She was now totally naked, bent over completely with her smiling face between her legs and her gaping pink cunt vividly displayed against her light brown skin.
She twirled a few times in place and then began small-stepping across the front of the stage. She would smile and say, “Thank you,” each time someone threw money onto the stage. One man near the center held up a stack of bills and “made it rain” as he slid bill after bill off of the stack and onto the stage. Finally she returned to the center of the stage. She lay on her chest and pulled her legs up and over her body. She made sort of a roll and stood back up with her arms spread wide. Then she bowed deeply to each portion of the crowd.
The stage light went out and the spotlight again came on to reveal Big Juan standing at the corner of the stage. In the dim light left on stage, many watched as Linda crouched down and scooped up all of the money that had been thrown as she danced.
“What did you think of that?” he yelled out and clapped his hands together. The crowd responded with a loud round of shouts and applause. Juan chuckled and said, “At least nobody rushed the stage tonight trying to get a taste of that marvelous snatch.”
He looked down and paused a moment while Linda finished picking up her money, then he turned back to the audience and said loudly, “You would think that we couldn’t top that, wouldn’t you? But we can top that. Let’s give our stage hands a moment to set up the posts and pool and we will have a little oil wrestling.”
He stood bobbing his head for a moment and then said, “I know. I know. I know you are thinking that you have seen oil wrestling before, but his is different. The girls all start out naked except for a number on their stomach in indelible marker.” He chuckled again and said, “OK, it’s not totally indelible, but the oil won’t wash it off. The girls will have to wipe it off with acetone after the show.” He held his hand as if he were pinching his nose and said in a derogatory tone, “And boy do they stink after doing that.” He leaned down to look at someone in the front row and said in a rough tone, “I’d still fuck ‘em anyway. I would just have to breathe through my mouth.”
He waited for the laughter to subside and then said, “Obviously you can’t throw money into a pool of oil. So we are going to have you bet on things. There are twelve contestants. They each will get– win, lose, or draw– one fourth of what is bet on them. Then the winner gets one fourth of the total bets. Another fourth is divided up among the winning bettors. And...” He paused and pressed both of his hands against his chest with his fingers spread. Then he continued, “... and of course the house, meaning me, gets the other fourth.
After a dramatic pause, Big Juan looked at the other side of the stage and said loudly, “Bring out tonight’s contestants!”
Twelve naked women walked out and stood at the front of the stage. They were numbered from 1 to 12. They ranged from very young, but legal, to the high end of middle aged. Three of the women were black. Two were brown Hispanic. The remaining seven ranged from a somewhat dark-skinned brunette to a pale, pale skinned blonde with blue eyes. She was so pale her blood vessels could be seen along her arms and across her stomach.
The naked waitresses began to fan out among the tables, but Big Juan’s voice boomed out, “Wait! Wait! Don’t place your bets yet. I told you this would be different. You don’t win by pinning your opponent. You win by making her cum! That’s right. The winner is the woman who does not cum.” He laughed and said, “Place your bets. Who do you think will force everyone else to cum without cumming herself.”
The spotlight went out and the waitresses went from table to table taking bets on the fight. They were carrying bags over their shoulders into which they put the money and from which they pulled numbered tickets. On one half of the ticket, the customer wrote who he was betting on, the amount, and their names.. The waitress copied that onto the second side of the ticket and tore it in half. The half filled in by the customer went into the bag with the money. The half filled out by the waitress was left with the customer.
Meanwhile, the dozen naked women stood on stage swaying and doing pelvic thrusts and blowing kisses to members of the audience. Tiffany leaned in toward Arnold and said in just over a whisper. “Normally you couldn’t get any of those over-the-hill prostitutes to cum with a dildo on a jack hammer, but Big Juan makes them take an aphrodisiac.” She giggled and then said, “It’s just a castor oil capsule. I swiped one and opened it up. Believe me, I know what castor oil tastes like.” She paused and then said, “He makes the winner from last week take two capsules ‘to even the odds.’ They don’t do anything, but the whores think they do and so it works.” She wrinkled up her eyebrows and then said, “I think they call that a placebo effect.”
Arnold just chuckled and turned he eye back to the stage where Big Juan was calling up, “Shake your asses, ladies. These men have paid to see some action. So unless you want to end up in the ring with these wrestlers, get those bets back up here.”
The waitresses hurriedly finished up collecting the bets and scrambled up on stage to hand their bags to Juan. As the last waitress handed her bag to Juan, he reached down and smacked her loudly on the ass. Then he turned to the crowd and yelled, “It’s time to wrestle!”
The twelve naked women quickly got into the ring and stood with their backs against the ropes with three on each side of the square.
“One step forward ladies,” Big Juan said sternly, “and then close your eyes and turn slowly around.
The twelve naked women did as Juan ordered. Three men and one woman from the security staff hurried out on stage, each holding a large garden sprayer. They began spraying a clear oil on the wrestlers. It only took a few moments for all twelve of them to be glistening with the oil.
“Now step back into position,” Juan said. He turned to the crowd and smiled as he let the tension and suspense grow. The he shouted out, “Let’s wrestle!” As the twelve moved toward the center of the ring, he added firmly, “Remember, pinning your opponent isn’t enough. You have to make them cum.”
Within seconds, four of the women were on their backs with two women holding them down. Obviously there had been some advanced planning by some of the women.
Tiffany leaned in toward Arnold and said softly, “Charlotte... she’s number eight... isn’t in there to win. She’s a closet exhibitionist and wants to be made to cum like a slut in front of all these people.”
She was evidently correct in her assessment because just a few moments later a shrill scream of passion echoed through the club.
“If any of you bet on number eight,” Juan said flatly, the he added emphatically “you lost!”
Number seven and nine stood watching as the other’s worked on their victims. One and three had number two flat on her back. They were rubbing her tits and cunt but she didn’t seem to be responding. Then number one raised her leg and straddled two right at her shoulders. She forced her cunt against two’s mouth and began gyrating. It only took a few moments before two was wailing in orgasm.
“Know your enemy,” Juan said, almost laughing. “Everyone knows that Zunea loves to lap cunt. She’s just about dead between the legs, but give her a cunt to lick and she explodes.”
Within the next few minutes, ten and twelve had brought number eleven to orgasm and four and six had overcome number five. All eight were standing at the ropes breathing heavily with exertion.
Arnold leaned down and said to Tiffany, “It seems that Big Juan puts the exhibitionist sluts in the middle on each side of the ring. It makes a good show to start off the contest.”
Tiffany looked puzzled for a moment and then said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It always starts out like this.” She hung her head and said, “Juan is always trying to get me into the ring. He says I can make a lot of money, but...”
“Don’t worry,” Arnold said, “you’ve put him off this long and it will be long enough.”
Tiffany looked really confused and opened her mouth to say something but Big Juan cut her off as he yelled out firmly, “You’re not done ladies. Get to it!”
The crowd was cheering loudly now, but they weren’t cheering FOR[i] anyone. They were cheering against certain women. “Take down number 10,” someone yelled. “She’s a real screaming slut.”
She turned an looked angrily at the man who was yelling, but that was a mistake. She turned away from the other fighters in the ring and seven, nine, and twelve dragged her down on her back and overwhelmed her.
Another voice yelled, “What are you waiting for, number four, three is already dripping and ready?”
Three didn’t turn to the voice, but she never really had a chance to. Number one, four, and six dragged her down to the floor with one sitting on her face and six’s face buried in her twat. Number four, meanwhile was mauling her tits. Whoever had called out was evidently right because it didn’t take more than a few minutes before number three was writhing and screaming on the floor.
Number ten, a rather large black woman, wasn’t quite so easy. Seven, nine, and twelve were trying the same tactic that had defeated number three. Seven was riding ten’s face; nine was eating her pussy; and twelve was mauling her tits and nipples. But ten had a huge tongue and knew how to use it. After about five minutes, when everyone was expecting ten to begin to succumb, a low hoarse cry echoed through the club. But it wasn’t ten. It was seven. She was losing control.
Her cry of passion was blood in the water and these women were sharks. Nine and twelve abandoned their work on ten and grabbed seven and pushed her to her back. Ten rolled over with her and forced seven’s legs high into the air.
“No, no, no,” seven called out. Then she almost screamed a very long and loud, “Noooooooooo!” as she shook and spasmed with an intense orgasm.
The six remaining women stood panting for breath, but it was from their exertion, not passion. They formed a wide circle in the ring warily eying each other. None of them said anything, but with glances of their eyes and nods of their heads, new alliances were made. The crowd cheered wildly as one and four suddenly pulled number six to the ground. Nine made the mistake of watching them and that allowed the ten, twelve pair to pull her down.
The attack was slightly different with two women. And the victim wasn’t a closet slut exhibitionist. It was another hard woman who wanted the prize money. Ten was on nine’s face while twelve attacked nine’s cunt with her finger and her tongue. But ten wasn’t just resting on nine’s chin. The whole purpose of the face sitting was to cause the victim to be overwhelmed with the smell of a turned-on woman. The face sitter had to allow herself to get slightly turned on. That is how ten destroyed seven. Seven started up that slippery slope of orgasm mountain and ten was able to take her to the top and push her off.
Ten wasn’t going to let that happen. She rocked on nine’s face not allowing nine’s tongue to either enter her or reach her clit. The feeling of control and dominance was more than enough to get ten’s juices flowing. And her powerful pheromones were strong enough to be getting a response from most of the front row seats and even from one or two of the close tables,
Nine wasn’t responding to ten’s actions, but she was definitely responding to twelve’s hands and tongue. She screamed in orgasm and ten jumped to her feet to keep from being cut or bit by nine’s thrashing face and teeth.
One and four had a different attack for six. One was between her legs while four concentrated on her tits and nipples. They were still trying to get the fire lit when nine orgasmed. It looked like six was going to be able to withstand them but ten came over and stood above six’s head. She squatted slightly and let go with a stream of piss that washed over six’s face.
Six exploded. As she screamed in orgasm, ten let go with another stream that splashed across and into six’s mouth. Ten turned toward the crowd and said derisively, “She said she would win because the only thing that would pop her cork was getting peed on.” She laughed and then said, “Never tell your opponents your weakness... or your strength.”
There were now only four fighters left. One and four fell to the ground together and began a very noisy sixty-nine session. Ten and twelve stood next to and against each other rubbing the oils up and down each other bodies. When twelve shuddered slightly there was a roar from the crowd. When ten practically lifted twelve into the air on her hand a second roar was almost drowned out by twelve’s extremely loud scream of orgasm.
Ten walked over to one of the corners and stood watching one and four noisily attack each others cunts.
“Looks like our finalists are almost ***********ed,” Big Juan said with an overly-exuberant voice.
He looked out at the audience and gestured with his hands. The crowd caught the hint and began shouting for their favorite. Then one rolled four over so that she was on top. She stopped slurping and began rubbing with her hands and fingers. Her fingers were slipping well into four’s now dripping cunt. Then one held up her hand and formed it into a wedge shape with her four fingers bunched together. She pushed her hand into four’s cunt and began pumping.
Four was groaning loudly with each pump of one’s hand. She began calling out, “Oh, Oh, Oh, with each pump and then suddenly one’s hand slid totally into four’s cunt. Four exploded in orgasm and began thrashing around on the floor dragging one across the ring. When four settled down, one pulled her hand free and stood in a corner opposite of ten.
“Well, well, well,” thundered Big Juan, “it appears we have out finalists.” He smiled... or should that be leered?... out at the crowd and continued, “But for our final round Zuri and Ava will not be fighting each other.” He paused for dramatic effect, then sounding like a carnival barker he yelled, “They will both be fighting the clock... and Madame Sybian from Monticello, Illinois.”
Two bouncers carried a large half barrel onto the stage and placed it just stage left of center. Another bouncer carried an identical device out and placed it just stage right of stage center.
He laughed and said, “I’ll bet you thought the Sybian came from Japan, but it is still made where it was invented in a small town in southern Illinois just about twenty-five miles from the University of Illinois.” He went back to his leer and then said, “I wonder how many of those U of I co-eds worked their way through college testing those machines?”
He wiggled his eyebrows in an almost comical fashion and then said, “But I digress.” After a pause he said, “Actually, I am giving Zuri and Ava a chance to calm completely down so this contest will be most equal for them and most exciting for you.”
Tiffany whispered to Arnold, “No, he’s not. He’s giving the waitresses a chance to collect last minute bets on the final two.”
Big Juan’s voice became almost patronizing as he pointed to the two women and said, “I’ve known Zuri and Ava for quite some time. They started working here as co-eds from our local college.” He laughed and then added, “But they decided they wanted to continue working here after they graduated.”
Tiffany was almost vibrating. “That’s bullshit,” she whispered loudly, “Juan sucked them in and trapped them...” she paused to hold back a sob and then said very softly, “... just like he is doing to me.”
Arnold didn’t take his eyes off the stage but whispered back, “I think you need to keep quiet... for now.” He turned to give a quick smile to Tiffany and then said a little louder, “Don’t give up hope.”
Big Juan was still talking as the waitresses went from table to table collecting bets. “I would bet that at least half of our female employees started out as college girls trying to pay off their debts.” He shrugged, “Now, they are out of college but still working here.” He gave his leering smile and said, “The Krazy Kat Klub must be a wonderful place to work.”
Tiffany started to stand up but Arnold pushed her back onto her stool. “Hold on for one more night, Tiffany,” Arnold said softly but firmly. “I promise you that this all ends tonight.”
The waitresses were all walking to the front of the club and handing in their betting slips and money so Big Juan said, almost apologetically, “But none of you paid your money to listen to me run my mouth.” His voice became deep and gravelly as he pointed to the two Sybian masturbation machines and growled out, “You paid to see these two beauties run... and to watch those two beauties...” pointing at Zuni and Ava “... ride these machines.”
He turned to look directly at Zuni and Ava and almost shouted, “Saddle up!”
Zuni was a somewhat large black woman, but her breast were still very firm. Ava was a very pale brunette with much smaller breasts that were already starting to sag. She was a long way from her college days. Even for the Krazy Kat, she was past her prime.
Both women squatted over the Sybians and slowly lowered themselves down onto the flat, pink vibrator plate. The large dildo slid easily into their cunts. Either they were already partly turned on or, as Ava had obviously done, they had scooped up some of the oil and spread it around the entrance to their cunts to get themselves ready.
After the two women were seated on the Sybians, the two bouncers returned and placed two large timers on the floors next to them. The timers had huge blue-green numbers which currently read 00:00.
“Remember,” Big Juan said almost softly as he looked out at the crowd, “you bet not only on the winner, but on the time she lasted on her Sybian.”
He straightened himself up and once again shouted, “Saddle up!”
The roar of the two Sybians filled the club. Everyone was completely silent. The crowd was watching and waiting. The women were concentrating on beating this wild machine which was vibrating their cunts and sending vibrations seemingly throughout their bodies.
It only took a minute and twenty seconds before Zuni started moaning softly. Ava wasn’t moaning, but her tightly compressed lips made it obvious that the moans wanted to come out.
As they approached three minutes, both women were swaying on their Sybians almost like they were on a bucking bronco.
Four minutes was the breaking point. Actually four minutes and seven seconds. That’s when Ava suddenly exploded into an orgasm. She had been holding it in almost totally until she could no longer control it and it overwhelmed her body and mind. She screamed in passion and thrashed on the loudly vibrating machine between her legs.
Arnold had expected them to shut off Ava’s machine, but instead it seemed to grow louder and Ava began moaning loudly, “No, no, no, I can’t take anymore.” At around five minutes she again went into an intense orgasm.
Zuni, meanwhile, was still moaning softly as she rode her machine. Tiffany whispered to Arnold, “Zuni is usually the winner. She knows how to release her orgasms while they are still small so it isn’t even obvious that she has peaked. She can keep that up for quite a while, but Big Juan has told her to let it go before eight minutes.”
Tiffany was right. At seven minutes and forty-five seconds, Zuni exploded in an tremendous orgasm. Tiffany again leaned in to whisper, “That’s fake, but most men can’t tell.”
The sound of the Sybians faded down and Big Juan stepped to center stage. “That concludes our show for tonight. Those of you who won can collect your bets at the bar. See you next week.”
A sound of scuffling at all of the doors caused everyone to turn and look. Armed police were streaming into the club.
Arnold stepped up onto the stage and turned toward the crowd. “All of the entrances are blocked. As most of you know, attending a lewd and lascivious production is not against state laws. Unlawful gambling, however, is, and those of you who placed bets signed your names to the betting slips which the agents are now seizing.”
Big Juan came up to Arnold and said, “So you’re going to close me down. I will be back open within a month. All I have to do is get a different backer to hold the liquor licence.”
Arnold looked down at Tiffany and then back to Juan before saying, “I think the charge will be a little more than that. I think it will be human trafficking based on the fact that you used videos of the college girls to force them into more and more explicit acts until they finally end up on these.” He pointed down at the Sybians.
“We will see,” Big Juan said angrily.
“Yes,” Arnold said tapping his cheek beneath his right eye, “We will see.”
Tiffany followed Arnold out into the parking lot where he stopped at a large police van. She grimaced as he popped out his right eye and handed it to one of the techs. The tech handed him a small plastic box with an identical eye in it. There was liquid sloshing slightly inside the box. Arnold pulled the glass eye out of the box and pushed it into his empty eye socket.
“That video will be played in court,” Arnold said softly.
“Noooo!” Tiffany wailed, “I’ll be convicted of indecent acts.”
“No, you won’t,” Arnold said firmly. “You’re G-string is a bit revealing, but within the law.”
“But I wasn’t wearing the G-string tonight” Tiffany almost sobbed.
Arnold pulled her over into the shadows away from the police van. Then he handed her his glasses. “Put these on,” he said firmly. He reached up and pressed a button on the earpiece. Nothing happened in front of Tiffany’s left eye, but suddenly in front of her right eye she was watching herself dance on stage... and she was wearing a G-string. It was the regular opening dance from Friday night.
“How... how... how did you do this?” she sputtered.
“Sometimes I need schematics or building plans so this is a micro-computer,” Arnold said softly. “It can store an amazing amount of images or videos and can projected them on the right side, the left side, or both sides.” He laughed and continued, “They were intended for a person with two eyes, not for someone like me who is recording everything with a camera in their right eye.”
He turned Tiffany to face him, “I knew that you girls in the opening dance were being groomed into much worse by Big Juan.” He took a deep breath and then continued, “And I knew that showing the video in court could ruin some lives, perhaps even lead to suicide.” He straightened himself up, “So I projected an alternate opening. They use the same music so they are exactly the same length. To any expert that examines it, the video from my eye camera will display an uncut and unedited record of what happened tonight. But a bunch of college girls walk away with a chance to straighten out their lives.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Tiffany said as she put her arms around Arnold’s neck.
“And that isn’t all,” Arnold continued. “My sister happens to run a large accounting firm. She is certified to supervise a novice accountant. She has hired girls with troubled pasts before and would be willing to hire you. If you are as good with numbers as you are dancing, you will be a CPA in no time.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Tiffany said. Her body was trembling.
“Here’s my sister’s card,” Arnold said holding out a business card. “Call her tomorrow. I know you will do well.” Then he laughed and touched under his right eye, “But remember, I will be keeping an eye on you.”