A Very Private Fashion Show Pt. 01

The sketch pads were only for cover-- literally. The eight gentlemen who had reserved space for our first event were all unzipped and had their condom-covered cocks bobbing about.

This was not something I enjoyed seeing, but if you were hosting events at The Club it was understood that the gentlemen wanted to get off. After a while, you just looked away; you concentrated on the naked girl.

The metal rulers were just to get their hands on her genitalia. Some of the men were calling out actual measurements: "3 and 3/4 inches" for instance, and were actually writing these important numbers down.

Two of the gentlemen noticed her cute toe curling reactions and positioned themselves at each corner of the recliner. As one, they each lifted up Debra's feet, scooted forward, and pushed her bare feet against their penises. Damn! Something else I had to explain to the overwhelmed lady: these men were gallant enough to be holding and warming up her cold feet.

I knew that she couldn't take much more without completely zoning out. As I said before, I could turn her into an automaton, and simply order her to accept everything that was happening. I didn't want that. I loved to see their embarrassment and their reluctance. And I wanted things consistent with the 'cover story' that I was going to use; the story that her conscious mind would accept.

I watched gratefully as the men climaxed one by one under cover of the sketchpad. Then I was surprised. The last holdout was Herbert, who was seated the farthest away, although with a direct line of sight between her pretty legs.

Herbert was eighty years old and was usually an observer. He admittedly needed "medical assistance" to cum. He usually retired to our archives, where we had photos and videos of nearly all of our naked female guests.

His goto girl was named Peggy and was being sweetly fucked whilst on our fours in his favorite picture-- which was taken in 1923.

I suddenly saw the resemblance. Take away their clothes (as we did,) ignore the changing hair styles: Debra was nearly a dead ringer for Peggy, who probably passed from this world around the time that Debra was born.

Herbert looked right at me and nodded his head. I swear that we had some type of psychic connection. Then I saw that he was clearly cumming and I had to look away. Some moments are too personal to share.

With everyone who signed up for this session done, I pulled Debra's panties back up then helped her sit all the way up. She looked at me, puzzled, blinking. Just then Reginald was there.

"A glass of water for the lady?" he asked, water in hand. What did I say about psychic connections?

As she sipped the water I said: "I hope you're better now. I know it must be overwhelming: all the male attention, the hot lights, and the way you're umm... dressed."

She nodded, still dazed. "No, umm... I'm okay. I just felt a little... confused for a minute."

"Great!" I exclaimed as I helped her up. "Time to get you changed into your next outfit!"

"My next outfit?" she asked, turning white.

"Oh yes," I said as we climbed the stairs. "It's still... well... very sexy, but different!"

Little did she know that her "next outfit" would consist of nothing but very naughty adult accessories. For all intents and purposes, she would be posing in front of all of these men in the nude.

The next session had ten men signed up to get more than their hands on sweet Debra's body. It was also an important part of setting up the ridiculous story that I would start feeding Debra: the story that I would use to get her alone and into our specially equipped private room. The story that I would use as an excuse to strip and then fuck her as hard as I was able.