Boudica Pt. 01

Louetta here. Everybody mentioned in this story is eighteen or older.

In one of my previous stories I described how I began, the day after I turned eighteen, my career as a nude photo model. Shortly after that I went one step further and became a nude sketching model. At some point I began to think that I might be able to expand into video and even film work and make a decent living pretty much simply by taking my clothes off, but I had no idea how to go about launching a career. I knew I would need time and experience to be able to comfortably get naked in front of a crowd of strangers and perform whatever was required to do video and film work. I wondered how I would get that experience. Then I got a break.

That summer my family visited my mother's sister's family in Delft in the Netherlands. There I found that my cousins Eefje and Dieuwke, girls my own age, had taken jobs in one of the kinky clubs in Amsterdam. For several years my oldest female cousin Juliette had been working as a stripper at one of the sex clubs, but the kinky club was tamer. Basically what they did was welcome people at the club entrance and participate in various entertainments such as wrestling, stripping, getting tied up and being whipped. That sort of thing. Mostly they handled the entrance, and they invited me to come with them to the club and apply for a similar job for the duration of the family visit.

Getting hired was simple. The only qualifications needed were to be young and pretty, which I flatter myself I was, and to be willing to take your shirt off, which I also was. Dieuwke showed me the outfit girls wore at the front door: black boots, black boy shorts, black wrist bands and upper arm bands, each equipped with a metal ring to facilitate tying you to stuff, and a black scrunchie for a ponytail so your hair stayed up to show maximum girl. There was no shirt. I met a few of the bouncers who manned the front door, large hairy guys who all spoke English and were very welcoming. Things seemed fine so we went to see the manager so I could be interviewed.

The interview went fine. As I say there were few qualifications, though some of these could not be evaluated while the applicant had her clothes on. I was reasonably personable, pretty, spoke good English, had a nice rack, a nice bum and good legs. I spoke no European languages, but that was not a barrier because THEY all spoke English. Whereas one manned (or girled) the door sans a shirt it made sense that as a part of the interview I would have to bare my breasts, which I did readily and shamelessly. The men present smiled approvingly. Then, as I had expressed interest in doing some of the entertainments which were done in the nude, I was asked to strip all the way. Again the men seemed pleased and I was asked to pose thus nude for publicity pictures. To this day they still use the same pictures whenever they advertise a show in which I am going to work. Finally, I was told I was hired and allowed to get dressed.

Eefje took me to ward robing to get me my door girl outfit, what there was of it. I stripped to my panties and tried on boots and then black boy shorts. I kept my own panties and my socks and Eefje fitted me for my wrist and upper arm cuffs and my collar and we were set. We powdered our noses and headed to the main entrance to start our shift, my bare bosom ready to greet the good people of Amsterdam. My bare nipples so stiff they might put somebody's eye out. Well, if they were only four feet tall. Greeting was easy. We stood behind a counter, the better to minimize groping, and smiled as people came in. Members showed their card, non-members paid a fee. Ninety percent of the men were clearly happy to greet us, less so the women. A shift lasted six hours, including breaks. The time passed quickly. We got pee breaks and were fed three hours into our shift. The presence of the bouncers guaranteed our physical safety, as did frequent visits from members of the gendarmerie.

I quickly forgot about not having a shirt on. The bouncers and the cops especially seemed to enjoy the pretty young girl from America who smiled and laughed at their jokes, provided they remembered to tell them in English. I enjoyed myself thoroughly. Being bare-breasted in public was a trip. When our shift was done Eefje and Dieuwke took me on a tour of the club which was a multi-story building which featured dancing, a restaurant, several bars and assorted facilities for putting on shows. In one of the shows a girl was being bound naked for a shibari routine where she was hung sideways from the ceiling. I could only dream about doing that. In another show a girl was spreadeagled naked and bound to a table so customers could tickle her bare feet and, for a price, her underarms and her breasts.

There were also private, members-only, areas where both light and heavy BDSM demonstrations took place. I watched transfixed as a pretty German girl was hung naked from her wrists and cruelly whipped over her entire body, with barely a whimper escaping her lips. I wondered if I could ever come close to giving such a performance, and knew I would have to, many times over, if I were to be able to get the kind of film work I wanted. And over the next several summers I spent many hours in Amsterdam working at the club and participating in just such demonstrations. Stark naked, helpless, sometimes crying, sometimes begging for mercy, but getting better all the time, until I could fill the largest room the club had with eager, paying customers, who tucked hundreds of euros in my garters when the show was done. But first I had to make a start.

The second night I was there we worked our regular shift at the entrance until midnight and then met my two older brothers and my two male cousins out on the street so we could all go see Juliette strip. All of the clubs were in the same general area but the sex clubs were on a different block. Walking over there was an education. I had never seen anything like the bright lights and bold advertisements for just establishments which offered just about any intimate service one could want. Dieuwke, Eefje and I, still dressed in our work uniforms, were admitted free through the employee's entrance, but the guys, of course, had to pay. Juliette came out from the dressing room to greet us and took us girls backstage.

She was dressed in her stage outfit. A black shirt that opened from the front and showed most of her tummy. A short black skirt with a garter belt, black garters and black fishnet hose. On her feet were black spike heels which only came off long enough to get her fishnets off and then stayed on even when she was otherwise buck naked. Her hair was up to display as much skin as possible when she was nude, shoulders, back and neck. Of course she always shaved bald as a cue ball. She was thin enough to have a thigh gap which, when she was naked, helped display her genitals more prominently. Her boobs were no bigger than medium, her ass small and tight from daily bicycling, popular in The Netherlands. The dressing room was fascinating. Everywhere hung fancy costumes. Everyone seemed to smoke and some of the girls sat there naked despite the presence of several men. One was a manager who was visibly disappointed to find we were not yet twenty-one, a requirement for sex work.

Back out in the club, we found places to stand along the back wall with the bouncers. The boys paid big for a choice table. The performer danced on a circular platform, maybe five meters in diameter, with the customary gold stripper pole in the center. Promptly at one AM Juliette was introduced. She would work each hour until four and her performances were all separate admissions. Most manuals on stripping advise getting naked slowly, but that was not what the customers had come to see and Juliette was bare-assed by 1:05. Naked except for her black garters and her spike heels. She was good with the pole, often hanging upside down, more often with her legs spread wide. The audience roared as she scissored her legs in and out. And roared louder when she spent the last minutes with her back against the pole and two fingers inside her. If she faked her orgasm I couldn't tell.

I knew I had to learn how to do this. That'll come in Boudica Part 02.