Amateur Night at the Blue Nile

Clarissa was baffled. The blonde arose instantly and walked to her in high heels and nothing else, all sweet reassurance. "You mustn't mind Giselle." She laid a hand on Clarissa's arm. "She doesn't like meeting the public. Between ourselves she's a bit of a diva. And I'm sure she's jealous because you're so pretty." She laughed like quicksilver, eyes lighting up. It seemed weirdly magical to look on this slender naked girl all wide eyes and gently bouncing breasts. "I'm Clementine," the performer announced, fingers lingering. "And you're ..."

"Clarissa. Clarissa Beaumont."

"And your handsome partner is ...?"

"Call me Gavin." He squeezed the girl's proffered hand gently.

"I'll call you delicious." Clementine's eyes rested on Clarissa. "Both of you. So lucky to have each other. And I know you will be having each other."

Oh lord, that she might be accommodating Gavin before the night was through ... Not what Clarissa had intended, but fucking hell, how could she refuse? Clementine was giggling at her own remark and Clarissa joined in, blushing. There was something irresistible about this self-assured little harlot. "Of course I can't be jealous," the girl said, turning about and swaying gracefully back to the platform, giving good view of her pert bottom. "I've got Kong here."

As though Clarissa could have forgotten the strapping and erectile young man in the frame. Clementine flicked her bunched hair so that it whipped her captive, then she clutched him, rubbing a hand all over his chest and stomach. "He's beautiful, isn't he? I'd say your man is built very much like him. Only he doesn't have his big gorgeous cock trapped by a nasty cruel cock-ring." There was indeed a silicon ring at the base of Kong's cock−Clarissa wondered she hadn't noticed it during the show−and Clementine took exquisite care in prizing it off the thick-veined pole. "There, all nice and free, but still as huge and hard," she cooed, running a hand all over the twitching cock. "And now I can do all the things to it I don't do on stage."

Clementine descended to her knees and Clarissa was transfixed anew as the sweet whore took Kong in her mouth and began to suck. He groaned and strained lightly against his bonds. Clarissa felt Gavin's hand on her waist, his body pressing into hers. The fellatrix was pawing her young captive's groin and massaging his balls as she feasted on hardness. She drew her slick tongue down his shaft, then peered around. "Would you help me, Clarissa? Would you tease as I suck? Only I don't have Giselle anymore."

Clarissa started at the request and looked to Gavin. His hand caressed her stomach through the clinging fabric of her mini-dress and his lips brushed her face. Arousal burned in those eyes. "It's okay, darling." He laughed and it turned her cunt to warm slick honey. "I know you want to. And I want to watch it. Discover how wicked a girl Clarissa really is."

She trembled under his touch and at the thought of his cock swelling huge like Kong's inside his perfectly-tailored trousers. This was the most insanely sexy moment of her life. She smiled back, inner vixen asserting itself. "Well since you asked so nicely ..." She let her fingers trip about the waistband of his trousers and tug on the straining zipper. God−what lay beneath? The route to the answer appeared to be via another excited cock, an undeniably delicious specimen. She shot a grin at Clementine, who stood with her hot captive. "If that's what you want ... You watch me get wicked, Mister McClain."

Thrilling to the danger, Clarissa strode to the platform, and inserted herself into the lewd tableau. There she paused, fingers troubling her lip before she decided on a move and grasped the waiting flail. Beneath her Clementine was attending to Kong's much-teased erection, gobbling him up and sucking with extravagance. His body was jerking tight, sweat popping from his pores. His scent was a concoction of pheromones, sweat and oil. How delightful to flick the thongs of the flail against his chest; how intoxicating to see that beautiful upper-body flex. She whipped again harder to make him jolt. Take that, you gorgeous brute.

"God, he's not going to break free again, is he?" She laughed with a shock of fear.

Clarissa emptied her mouth long enough to respond, her spit dangling from that towering crane of a cock. "It's okay, sweetie. This time he's not going anywhere." She opened wide around his wet glans and engulfed once more.

Emboldened, Clarissa reached out and ran a hand down his slippery muscled back, taking care not to touch her dress against his oily body. She whipped again, letting the thongs lick his worked-out chest and sting his nipples so that he flinched. He was still tense when she slapped a hand to one of his marble-hard buttocks, slithering her way down and clutching at the base, before drawing her fingers up, the middle one teasing between his cleft. Her hand met that of Clementine; the slender sex-artiste was gripping the other butt cheek as she took that cock deep into her mouth. Clarissa glanced up and saw his jaw set hard under the torments of this private performance. Then she looked to the only man she was sure could draw her attention from the delicious Kong. Gavin stared back. His face was inscrutable, but one hand betrayed all she needed to know, for it reached down and massaged the bulged crotch of his trousers. She responded by scattering the flail across Kong's pectorals. Then she stretched forth her tongue to flicker an abused nipple, peering at her date in between bouts of licking. Wicked enough for you, Mr Boss-man?

"Suck his cock."

The words answered her foolish thought. She turned back to him, mouth searching vainly for response.

"You heard me, Clarissa. Get on your knees. I want to watch you suck his cock." She made to respond, but his eyes drilled her into silence. "Don't think about it. Do it. Now."

Soft, low, compelling. She was on her knees before she knew it. He hadn't made her, he'd permitted her−looked right into her soul and seen what she wanted. A sophisticated girl had needs too. To get wild and exhibitionist. To kneel before this gorilla of a man and marvel at his superb erection−pulsing and purple. Clementine's mouth surrendered him to another's possession, the bulbous head glistening with her relish. Clarissa stretched out her tongue and, gripping his heavy balls, laid a slick trail from base to quivering tip. She eyed Gavin as she did it, let her gaze smoulder on the man whose cock she desired even more than this one.

Let me show you what I can do. You'll never want me out of your employment once you've seen how damned hot I am. I'll own you before the night's out, Mr Big-shot.

She licked all around Kong's salty head, then stretched wide to suck him in, filling her mouth with hot hard cock. Mmmm ... King Cock. She'd have laughed aloud had her lips not been wrapped around so much throbbing dick-meat. Her tongue stroked him as she vacuumed, that hard-worked body tightening under her slurp. He was swollen near to bursting and she wondered with a flash of concern whether she was expected to finish the job. Not something she was used to−a girl of class had to have standards. But if that was what Gavin wanted? She might have to prove her mouth's talent before she could use it as a trap to snare him. So down she surged, taking him dangerously into the back of her mouth. Look, Gavin. This is how a Chelsea girl can please her man when he's been good. Hear how I make him groan?

"That's it, Clarissa, you bad girl. Suck him deep. Shut your eyes and get into it."

His voice was closer than before. I am into it. Can't you see? I'll show you what a naughty bitch I can be. To prove it she reached behind to seize both ass cheeks, pulling herself further down Kong's shaft, closing her eyes and luxuriating in the sense of all that cock in her throat. Clementine stroking her hair to encourage like a sexy little-sister, observing her cock-sucking progress. Gavin's voice growling its arousal as she pleasured a stranger. Kong groaning, all his thick veiny inches throbbing against the caress of her mouth. Throbbing towards climax.

Crazy night−so crazy it absorbed Clarissa's thoughts and made her cunt drip. Moments passed before her dizzied brain registered the click-zip click-zip click-zip in her ear. Camera ... Pictures ... Hey, what the fuck?

She emptied her mouth of cock with a glutinous gasp and turned to see Gavin, peering through a lens several feet away and homing closer. He continued to click his silver wafer of a camera as Kong fired off his first cum-shot, the warm fluid splattering against her cheek. Wincing she backed off, but stumbled in heels and fell onto her ass on the platform, the skirt of her dress riding up her thighs. Clementine swooped to capture the jolting rod in her mouth and suck up the rest of its gushing orgasm.

"What are you doing?" Clarissa railed at Gavin. "Put that down! You said no cameras allowed!"

"They're not. I've been granted a special dispensation by the management."

"What? Why? Gavin, what are you playing at?" She clattered to her feet, gripping the frame. A single instant had flipped her circumstances from erotic to shit-scary. Beside her Kong's body was sagging with sexual release, Clementine carrying out painstaking clean-up operations.

Gavin slipped the camera nonchalantly into an inside pocket. "Insurance."

"Insurance? For what?"

"For when I threaten to fire your undeniably well-formed ass and you consider crying to daddy with some phoney claim of harassment."

"Fire me? Why? My work has ..."

"Your work has been shit, Clarissa," he said with dispassion. "For six weeks you've been arranging spa treatments or Twittering when you should have been following up queries from key clients, one of which your negligence nearly lost. I took you on as a favour to the father who was tired of paying interest on his daughter's credit cards and in despair of her ever getting a job. He told me that if you fucked up this shot at employment−and make no mistake, you've fucked up royally−there'd be no running back to him so he can recommence funding your Bond Street lifestyle."

Clarissa's face scorched. Everything he'd said was maddeningly true. Her lacklustre performance had been muttered about at the water-cooler for weeks. She'd known time was running out. It had been at least one motive in fluttering eyelashes at her handsome boss.

"Of course," Gavin continued, calm and relentless, "I don't underestimate the wiles of a daddy's princess. So these photographs−and I don't think I've misread you here−will provide the additional leverage required."

"Leverage to ... to ... So you are sacking me?"

"God, no. You need to learn an honest day's work. You're going to graft that ass of yours clean off starting Monday and if there's a hint of you slacking, I'll start sending out untraceable photos of Sebastian Beaumont's little girl sucking cock in a high-class sex club. Understood?"

All too clearly. Clarissa's head swam with panic at the notion. It would be her social ruin. Clementine was staring up at her placidly, observing her reaction. Behind his mask she was sure Kong held similar fascination. "God, you bastard. I thought you liked me!"

"I didn't quite catch that, Clarissa ..."

Pretentions all crumbled, she mumbled a bitter and defeated "Yes".

"Good. Then wash. There's spunk all over your face and you need to look pristine. To start with at any rate. Clementine, will that dress do?"

"Absolutely. It clings to her figure so beautifully. God, she'll be perfect."

Panic returned to Clarissa triple-fold. "Perfect? Perfect for what? Gavin, what the hell's going on?"

Gavin's hard face resolved into a smile. He radiated such wicked delight that her knees buckled and she had to grip the frame. Never had evil been so immaculately groomed and debonair. So intent on getting its way.

"Clarissa, my dear, you don't think I went to all this trouble just so I could get you to work on time? There'll be another full house very shortly and you're going to give them a performance to remember. Didn't I tell you? It's amateur night."

* * * *

Clarissa stood in shadow, clutching at her dress's tight fabric, bare feet scrunched against the hard-wood floor. From the other side of the dividing wall she could hear music and the babble of an assembling audience.

Two hours prior she'd been seated out there herself, anticipating a voyeuristic treat. Now voyeur would become object of erotic scrutiny. She clutched the rim of the Perspex bath, making soapy water slosh about within. The container resembled a giant dessert bowl, and guess who'd be served up ... Harry the stage manager had looked her over as he ran the tub, no doubt imagining the beauty soon to occupy it.

She tried to slow her breathing, quell the fluttering in her stomach. Clarissa was no stranger to stage nerves. As Hippolyta in her sixth-form college's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, she'd ended up wringing her hands in the wings. Only then she hadn't been expected to strip butt-naked in front of the ranks of parents and fellow-students.

"But anyone could be out there," she'd remonstrated to Gavin.

"That's a gamble you'll have to take." He'd eyed her, quietly smug, as her fists clenched. Every time she made for the door her limbs had locked in dread of his threat.

In the auditorium music died and lights dropped; she saw the snap-fade through the crack either side of the stage's dividing wall. God ... Fuck ... This was it. Her big unrehearsed performance. She couldn't do it. She'd freeze in the lights, be shamed and incur Gavin's terrible penalty. He'd start sneaking out the pornographic snaps, use all her painstakingly networked connections against her. Whispers would multiply and her place in London society would be compromised utterly.

God help me ...

"All set for a stunning debut?" A whisper, devilish not divine, made her body start. So the mini-receiver in her ear was working perfectly. She had an image of Gavin serene with his discreet radio mike awaiting her grand entrance. "It's a full house, Clarissa," his voice said, "but I'll guide you through the whole thing. Follow every instruction to the letter and you'll be a sensation. And don't worry−you won't be alone out there for long."

God, she knew it. Before she could ruminate more on her fate, its cogs and those of the stage mechanics meshed into operation. The great disc began its smooth one-eighty rotation, Clarissa's heart hammering as she and the set glided about. Smoky jazz and darkness met her arrival−the swan-like maiden, fair hair wrapped in a chignon, about to disrobe at bath-time.

"Stand tall, girl. Don't flinch." Gavin's disembodied voice galvanized her before stage-level lights blinked on, blinding her in their bluish glare. Her vision adjusted, but there was nothing to see beyond the stage more than vague shapes. Her audience was shrouded in darkness, but they could sure as hell see her.

One of them continued muttering instructions. "Reach down and test the water." The words possessed her before fear could do so. She bent to the tub and scooped beneath a surface of extravagant bubbles. Warm and inviting like a real bath-night. "All alone and secret in your room. You can't wait for that water to envelope your naked body. So strip. Slowly."

Clarissa's hands crept up her bosom and crossed to pluck the straps of her dress away from her shoulders.

"That's right, tease them. Hold the moment. Now, pull it right down." She tugged the clinging fabric to her waist, cleavage displayed within her delicate white-lace bra. Gavin's instructions compelled her onward; the skirt of the dress she gripped by its hem, drawing it upwards into a band around her middle, revealing her thong-clad loins. Then she peeled it down over thighs and legs in a smooth glide and stepped out, drawing it aside daintily with her toe.

Long and lissom in her tiniest under-garments. Gazes burning on her milky skin. And no respite from his commands.

"Now the brassiere. Simple, innocent. No fuss."

She unsnapped at the back, shrugged the straps off her shoulders. Mortification paused her, that and the realisation of how wet she was. Of how some kinked part of her was getting off on stripping in public. Laying herself bare for all those staring eyes. The brassiere tumbled from her breasts. Pretty peaches all on show. Nipples upturned and hard in the blazing light. Cheers vying with the music as her fingers twitched at her panty-thong.

"Take them off. Ass out and knickers off, girl. Nice and slow." She bent, tugged and drew the thong downwards. "That's it. Thrust. Peel that thong from your bum-crack. Show us all you've got."

Gavin, speaking for every ogling spectator as she exposed her ass completely, and her puffy cunt-lips too. The sophisticated Blue Nile audience gave vent to pure lust, wolf-whistling and calling out male and female alike, as she thrust her bared bottom and wriggled free of all clothing.

"Clarissa Beaumont buck-naked on stage. Quite a fucking sight. Now get in the bath and soap that up-market ass."

Bloody, bloody bastard! Making it worse with every word he spoke−deepening her shame, making her wetter and more swollen, evil fuck!

Warm water enveloped and caressed her thighs as she stepped into the bowl. She wanted to lie down, provide what degree of obscurity the suds allowed in the transparent tub. Her instructor did not allow it.

"Kneel in the water. Use the wash-rose. Give everyone a good view." The rose was floating in the suds and she picked it up, dabbing at herself. "Use it properly," the smooth voice urged. "Luxuriate." She succumbed to her body's sluttier urgings−it was easier that way−thrusting out her tits and spreading bubbles over them, squeezing the rose to her chest so that soapy water rivered to her stomach. Laving shoulders and the nape of her neck till water rolled down her breasts and back, turning her slippery all over. Eyes closed, giving herself up to sensuality.

Then the inevitable instruction: "Lie back. Wash everywhere."

The audience's view into the bowl was too direct for the water to afford her any modesty, so she lay across the tub, stretching out her beautiful body and drawing the wash-rose down to her exposed crotch. That much she could cover herself. The gauzy folds pressed to her wet labia and she writhed under the touch. So sweet, so wrong. She was crushing the rose to her clitoris, massaging in circles before she realised how much it excited her.

"Look at you, Clarissa, starting to enjoy." Goddamn, the bastard was right. She couldn't help herself.

She was almost relaxing into her public masturbation when an intruder entered stage right. A diminutive figure shining a torch crept stealthily past the tub, then reared up, suited in black to her stockinged head. A sexy cat-burglar stealing in to surprise a girl in the middle of her ablutions. Clementine ripped off the stocking-mask with a flourish and whipped her hair three-sixty like a blond propeller-blade. The crowd cheered her sexy entrance and she responded with sinuous dance moves that brought her leering over the bath, gripping the rim. She smiled as she leaned low, before her mouth took possession of Clarissa's, tongue slithering inside. The staged scenario possessed the upper-class girl too and she gave herself up to seduction, kissing in return, intoxicated by the rhythm of the blonde's tender mouth on hers, that silky stroking tongue.

Clementine pressed the torch into her hand as she kissed and whispered into the ear unoccupied by Gavin's voice. "Shine it on me."

She pushed away from the bath. Clarissa held the torch where it had been placed, thrusting from her loins like a great rubber phallus. Its beam stayed on Clementine, who had recommenced her lusty hip-swaying. She tore a Velcro-ed panel from her bodice revealing her firm, full tits, her striptease as brazen as Clarissa's had been tentative. The remainder of the top she peeled fluidly from her upper body, before swivelling around and pushing her rear over the bath's edge. Her skin-tight leggings had fastenings down both sides; Clarissa's torch lit it all up as she unzipped down each leg, waist to heel, black spandex dropping away from taut thighs and firm round bottom.