Babysitting Gillian

Gillian, formerly Farrah, spun on the stripper pole in an upscale gentlemen's club in Manila. Her skimpy teal-colored sequined thong sparkled in the colored spotlights. Her toned legs wrapped the polished brass shaft. She had already doffed her top and her firm freckled boobs jiggled to her motions.

The audience tonight was extra boisterous, cat calling for her to hump her crotch on the phallic-like pole. She complied, scissoring her knees as she rubbed her groin against the slick stage fixture, and the rumble of the crowd grew even louder.

She finished in a shaft cuddling back bend; a flourish of head shakes swept her long red hair in flailing fans from left to right. She paused to squint sideways at her stage light blotted audience, then stood straight and tall before plucking the side clasps of her sparkly dancer bottom and flicking the minimal cunt cover to the stage floor. She posed full-frontal, legs akimbo, displaying her pussy and tits in all their Occidental splendor.

She heard the rustle as the Asian male audience bent forward in their seats in unison and peered at her red pussy tuff, confirming that she was the real deal: a true natural redhead and not one of the local bottle-dyed want-a-bees. They licked their lips, eager to get the bidding on the fucking part of the routine started here at the Manila Strip and Fuck Club.

But they were disappointed... again. When Gillian had been forced to hide out here, she had insisted that she was unready for the full program and was assured that she would not be compelled to join that special portfolio of erotic stage performers. She couldn't fathom being fucked onstage in front of a room full of randy businessmen.

With hands on her bared hips, she twirled her long red main one more time, letting it settle to drape her chest, the hair fall split twice over by her conical tits that showcased her perky rouged areolas. She winked, turned her back towards her admirers, and sashayed her toned little ass off the stage. There were audible groans of disappointment and frustration from the aroused male audience. They would not be bidding on her again tonight. They wondered: When? How soon?

The club owner took note as several significant patrons gathered their things and left the club early. He watched 'money' walk out the door and was not pleased. That was not the way he had built his successful adult enterprise and systemic changes were required. He thought back to the curious calls he had received from his Macao counterparts, subtle questions seeking performance roster information. A personnel swap trade might be in order for an elusive sought-after girl.

Meanwhile, Gillian had emerged into the crowd wearing her recovered stripper outfit. She mingled with the fascinated men until one patron engaged her in a longer conversation. She half-grinned in a bashful display, lowered her eyes, looking away as if gathering her thoughts and courage. Then she shyly nodded her head and took his hand, still looking meekly downward as she led him towards the secluded side rooms for a private dance. The show went on with other acts before the man returned after an extended absence, shuffling his steps, looking weak-kneed and weary, but grinning happily from his time with the vivacious redhead. Gillian was not attuned to onstage sex but in private, contrary to her enticing coy artifice and with the right monetary incentive, she was a lap dancing dynamo, and, ultimately, a lapping dick dynamo.

A few days later, Gillian was gathered prior to the start of the shows with the other performers in the backstage dressing room when the club owner waltzed in. The ladies were in various forms of undress and hardly paused their preparations. The boss often visited before the shows began; he checked on his talent and added his ideas to better their individual performances.

He wandered through the crowd, giving tips and advice about costumes or cosmetics, until he stood behind Gillian at her makeup station.

She was in the middle of applying cosmetics. Her lips were rose-colored and her nails painted nearly the same color. She looked at his stare in the mirror, a short pause to acknowledge his presence, and then nonchalantly continued rouging her nipples. He added his two cents of advice.

"I think a two-tone color palette would be more appropriate tonight, don't you think?"

Gillian finished coloring her broad disks with a pale reddish rouge. The man stayed behind her, justly expecting her compliance with his suggestion.

She calmly picked through her cosmetics and found a redder paste. She held it up to the mirror and saw the man nod once. She opened the lid and applied the colorant to her nubs, accenting the very center of her tits.

She reached out to replace the container in its spot. His hand came under her arm and cupped her boob, squeezing the lower half to protrude the nipple. He tilted the captured mass to and fro, examining the tones in the lighted mirror as she examined his face for a hint of approval. A slight smirk twisted up a corner of his lips.

"Nice. A good start. Let's keep going."

He released his grip to let the cuddled mass settle on her chest and turned his head, addressing a nearby half-dressed performer.

"Help me out here. Find something exciting for Gillian's debut."

Debut?

Gillian stayed still in her seat but it was a strange comment. She had debuted months ago and had been stripping every night since. She had recently started her private 'dances': dancing up and down on paying patron's laps and lapping their erections in the secluded side rooms.

The club owner took her bicep and drew the nearly naked young woman up to stand. The appropriated assistant returned with an armload of black leather and dropped the bundle in the seat. The club owner picked through the tangled leather strips and selected an item.

First up was a shelving corset. Gillian raised her arms as requested and the broad band was circled about her torso. The back laces were pulled tight and tied off, a bit snug but she could still breathe. Her modest tits rested on the narrow under-boob boosters with her two-toned nipples pushed forward.

She was told to lift her hair and a black collar with small embedded rings was placed about her throat. She heard a sharp click as it was locked in place. Her wrists were adorned with cuffs of similar construction. The man held her arm for balance while the smokey hose was fitted to her legs and the top bands secured to the corset stays. The assistant produced black translucent panties and those replaced the common cotton ones that the assistant sheared off her hips. The sexy translucent thong was wrapped over her crotch and tied at the sides.

And then they added black stiletto heels. They were sturdy fabrications, with open toes and tight broad ankle straps for support. Again, she heard the sharp clicks as they locked the silver buckles in place.

The man held fingers to his chin as he looked her up and down, a thoughtful gaze. Still looking at Gillian, he spoke aside to his costuming assistant.

"Finish her up... something bold that will show well in the stage lighting."

The experienced stripper seated her again and applied more seductive facial makeup: deep eyeshadow, long lashes, and a line of red tone at the edges of her green eyes. She considered cheek blush but omitted it. Gillian's scattered freckles were a tempting panache that shouldn't be covered.

She styled Gillian's long red hair into a gathered bun atop her head, held by a few pins, two loose twists dangling down at her temples. That exposed her ears and the neck collar. The pierced earlobes got silver hoops large enough to graze her shoulders.

The boss man returned and Gillian stood for his inspection. He nodded approval. She would do. He carried a thin filmy covering.

He swept waist-length demi-cloak over her shoulders, and closed the single bow at her throat. The murky covering was more flair than function. In the bright stage lights, she would be fully seen through the ultra-thin fabric.

"Come with me."

The man strode off and she followed, her hands holding the billowing silky cover at her waist. He led her to the side stage where they watched the end of another strip and fuck performer's routine, laying on her back, the auction-winning man humping her cunt between flailing legs as she gave a final burst of effort and caused him to cry out his ejaculatory delight. The audience cheers rose and died as the stage lights likewise rose and died into darkness.

"Well, this is it. You're next. But first, some final preps."

He grasped her wrists and used them as handles, curving them behind her back as he mashed her tits to his chest. She tilted her face up, expecting a kiss but only saw his evil smile as she heard another sharp click. He released his hold and she stepped back to ease the pressure on her tits. Her arms would not come forward; her cuffs were connected behind her back.

She saw the club owner snap a silver leash chain to her collar. Her eyes went wide before they disappeared under a black cloth blindfold that one of the other strip performers behind her dropped over her head and fastened over her red coiffed hairdo. Her voice trembled at the thought of her impending surrender.

"No. I said I wasn't ready. Please... no..."

The announcer's voice filled the air.

"Gentlemen, welcome to our show. Tonight, we have something special. Though certainly not a virgin, as many of you will appreciate from personal experience, it will be her first time rewarding a bid-winning patron onstage. So, without further delay, we present Gillian."

A firm tug on her leash forced her to follow its lead and she stepped obediently toward the stage, slightly unstable with her arms fixed behind and her body propped on the tall heels. She perceived two attendants, their musky perfume whiffing her nose, as they walked beside her as she moved onstage.

The low chatter rose in volume as she emerged into the bright stage lights. She discovered the blindfold allowed her some blurry vision in the brightness. The translucent cloak fluttered in the air; a minimal cover that left little unexposed and drew the attention of the audience.

She stumbled once, unsteady on the spiked high heels, and an enabling hand clutched quickly on one boob and steadied her until she could take another step. She glanced aside to lip a silent 'thank you' to her aide, fuzzily discovering the still groping paw belonged to a him. His hand squeezed her breast once again and slid away, the palm brushing her stiffening nipple nub, a reflective tingle sparking her pussy.

The stage was strewn with an array of rough-hewn wooden objects; not furniture but more like tables and frames. She was posed far in front of the props, facing forward at center stage.

The leash was let go but still was attached to her collar ring. It hung straight down between her cosmetically-decorated and corset-boosted breasts. Its excess length coiled in a rattled pool at her feet. The shadows filtering through the blindfold told her it was a full house tonight; almost all of the tables placed about the house floor had bleary silhouettes of men staring back at her.

The announcer's buoyant voice broadcast again from the ceiling speakers as he gleefully continued the exhibition narrative.

"Gentlemen, it's the night you have been waiting for and lusting for. A bondage scene strip tease and auction. The winner will fuck this lovely wench for the viewing pleasure of the less fortunate bidders. Get your money ready; it will be a fierce competition, I'm sure. So, let's get started."

Gillian felt hands at her neck and her cloak's single strand was untied and pulled back from her throat. The fabric draped her from neck to ankles and its movement, when whisked off, rubbed across her stiff nipples, sending more tingles to her pussy. She was stirred by the sensation.

She impulsively cracked open her mouth for an intake of breath, flashing a toothy whiteness between her red lips. Her tongue swept their plushness, not overlooked by the looking men. Her lips remained unconsciously slack; a shared low growl of admiration filled the room. Every male's mind imagined those lips slipping along an engorged cock shaft, that tongue lapping a penile knob, hopefully his, and soon.

She stood steady, expecting more handling, and her thoughts were on target. A hand reached from behind and pinched her bare stiff nipple. She throated a surprised yip and elevated up onto her toes. Another hand found and painfully pinched her other nip, eliciting a second yip. She stayed on tiptoes momentarily before easing back onto her heels. Her pussy steeped its moisture.

A third hand tunneled between her thighs and cupped her thong-covered pussy. The middle finger sawed in the soft wet crevasse, an uncomfortable scraping. She took a half step sideways, separating her thighs to accommodate the wrist and palm. The gap allowed a richer caress and her labia swelled and warmed under the freer genital manipulation.

She sensed her dew seeping out to wet her panties. The aroma of sex tainted the air and told her handlers that their tasks were producing the desired results. They saw the flush on her freckled cheeks that confirmed their conjectures. They nodded offstage and the announcer's voice rekindled its dialog.

"Well, she sure seems good and ripe now. Who will bid first?"

A low rumble swelled on the audience floor. A tote board over the stage lit up and displayed the progressively higher bids. The member's ID and offered amount were replaced by a next higher offer. The succession slowed and stalled at a substantial value. But the club owner and staff knew this was not the ultimate transaction.

The tote board dimmed and flashed, signaling that the bidding was about to culminate and a winner declared. Then it lit up again with a 50% increase in the previous price. The gentlemen gasped at the lopsided number, intimidated into ceasing any further attempts tonight for even Gillian's prime lips and pulsating pussy. There would be another chance some other night, they assured themselves.

Her handlers each took an arm and Gillian was nudged to backstep until her strapped on heels bumped against a solid object and she stepped up on the wooden beam. Her arms were unclipped behind and her collared wrists and banded ankles reclipped to the stage prop, binding her spread eagle to a box frame. One male attendant roughly ripped off her sodden panties; she recoiled at the forceful stripping.

Movement onstage alerted her that the winner, an unseeable rough-looking young Western male, had mounted the stage. He slowly circled the bound beauty several times, taking his time to touch her exposed skin in intimate places. A hand leisurely swept her inner thigh, her shoulder, her low back, her ass cheeks. He paused in front and cupped her cunt, a finger sliding in between the warm creases, testing her moisture.

He chuckled at her arousal and placed that sticky finger at her oral lips, using her nether dew to paint a sheen onto the pink gloss. The tang of her own juices stirred memories of better times when it was a welcome taste.

She parted her lips and her tongue peeked out. He held his digit close as she flicked her tongue tip at his foreplay wetted finger pad and then swept her full lips with the tongue surface to reap the smeared flavor coated there.

Through the gauze hindered vision, she perceived him flick a backhanded gesture to the stage attendants, a command to carry on. She felt the frame tilt backward to horizontal and her back contacted a padded surface, one of the tables or benches she had previously glimpsed. The wrist and ankle straps' tension was released, only to be tensioned again as they were refastened to the sides of the bench. The box frame was lifted away and moved elsewhere. She was bound prone and spread eagle on her back, sideways to the audience.

The overhead stage lights were full in her eyes; the stage figures moving around her were dark shadows silhouetted in the brightness. Her head was resting comfortably on the padded bench when she heard a mechanism click and felt the headrest fall lower. Her neck was now stretched back; her hair-do was loosened and the auburn strains draped from her scalp to the floor.

A body, but all she could see was its hips and torso, approached her face. She saw it was preceded by a waggling tube and she felt the spongy knob of an erect penis bump her mouth. She hesitated only a second before her submissive female instinct took over. She parted her lips and the man pressed his cock into the pink-coated orifice. She closed her lips around the tube of flesh and sucked the cock knob that half-filled her mouth.

But that wasn't enough. The man placed his hands behind her head and thrust fiercely, burying himself to her tonsils. Her eyes watered beneath the gauze blindfold and she gagged. He pulled back a bit to slacken the gag reflex and she caught deep breaths, trying to allay her alarm.

But that still wasn't enough. She felt his hands tighten on her scalp and prepared for what she knew was coming. He thrust again and this time didn't stop until her nose divided the space between his testicles inside his large loose scrotum. He was as deep as he could go, his knob lodged far down her throat and his sack enveloping her nose.

He held there for a moment and then relented, drawing back to unclog her airway. He watched her draw quick breaths, allowing her to inhale the oxygen she needed to keep from passing out. He wanted her lucid, enduring the initial sensations of this foreplay and the evolving games yet to come. He dawdled there, shuttling his cock in her mouth, sensing her innate devotion to play the game and stimulate his penile nerves but he was taking far greater pleasure from the dominance he felt at the forced blowjob.

Gillian's eyes still watered from the throat fucking and her eyesight was thereby even more impaired. But he seemed to be easing his harshness and she actually moderated her strain on her bonds, letting him lead the way. And then, he pulled back and slipped out. Her head was lifted and the headrest restored, her loose tresses jumbled where they fell about the prop. The forms shifted about her and her head was tilted higher so that she could look, even if barely visible, down her body to where the sucked male now took his position, standing between her spread legs.

His fingers insistently tapped her inner thighs and she struggled to comply, moving to widen her saddle, her knees moving apart while her ankles remained bound in place to the legs of the bench. He moved his hips closer to hers. His fingers again played with her red labia, blossomed open by her better pose and swollen by her budding feelings of lust. He gave a rough chuckle when he plucked gently at her tuff of red hair and she yipped at the painful tug, lifting her hips a tad so as to lessen the sting.

Gillian's nerves were tingling everywhere with an electric buzz. Despite all the assurances that she would not be a part of the Strip and Fuck show, here she was: a bondage doll, partially stripped and trussed before an audience and on the verge of being fucked on stage to the viewing enjoyment of the audience many and the ecstatic delight of this one.

Like before, she felt the spongy knob of the man bump her lips, now her nether lips. She rationalized a bit of inner peace, realizing she was just a tool, a cunt, a sex object for the man's gratification. She decided to lay slack and accept her situation, not that there was any alternative she could think of.

Her mood turned to a sudden realization that she wanted this: sometimes you have to be forced into doing something you secretly crave but are ashamed to admit.

The man saw her body visibly relax. He was satisfied with her apparent surrender; it was time to get his money's worth.