Lapdancing Girlfriend Ch. 05

She took a sip of her refilled champagne glass and immediately tasted the familiar bitter aftertaste of Mr. DeWight's Ecstasy-laced 'energy powder.' Having tasted it the night before when the guys had spiked her drink, she immediately recognized it.

"What's in this?" she asked, seeing no reason to hide her suspicion.

Mr. DeWight smiled at her, saying, "Just a little something to make you relax my dear," he told her. "It's my own special blend of electrolytes, energy powder, and my own personal brand of Ecstasy and coke," he said to her frankly.

Seeing Jen's surprised expression at his blunt admission he shrugged. "With our agreement you said you would agree to my terms," he told her. "You looked like a virgin on prom night with Sergey touching you, so yes, I spiked your drink a bit to loosen you up. This party has the potential to earn millions of dollars for the company and to make you the biggest star in the industry," he said looking at her sternly, "and I'm not going to have you fuck it up by suddenly being too shy. If a little chemical inducement is needed, I will use it. Now, you can drink that willingly or I can inject the shit into you," he told her with a shrug of his shoulders and matter-of-fact voice as she looked at him in astonishment. "Frankly, I don't care either way, even track marks can be covered with make-up, so it's up to you," he said.

Jen knew she was seeing the true nature of Mr. DeWight. She believed him when he said he was taking their agreement seriously, and his admission of what was in her drink was in line with what he had said, that he would not bullshit her any longer as long as she complied. His admission alleviated any doubts she had about him abiding by his word, and she suddenly believed he would re-evaluate her contract if she gave in and if her ideas earned a profit.

But the fact he cared nothing about her health, willing to drug her to get what he wanted, and admitting it, was an eye opening experience. He did not care about her own propriety, or anything about her other than her earning a profit for him and his company. He would do anything to get his way, and she could understand all of Dan's misgivings now that she had been around the man for these last few weeks.

On some twisted level she could even understand why he had spiked her drink. She HAD been reserved around the fat Russian man. Even in the club she was more seductive and relaxed about earning tips, so it was understandable Mr. DeWight wanted her to loosen up, particularly now that she knew how much money was possibly at stake.

As the man watched her, she took another sip from the champagne glass in her hand as Mr. DeWight smiled.

"Good, I'm glad we have come to an agreement," he said, as if her giving in had not even been in question. "And there really isn't much in that drink, I don't want you spreading your legs to everybody here, just loosened up a bit," he said to her with a grin.

Jen felt herself blush, ashamed at giving in to Mr. DeWight so easily.

"Anyways, I have a little surprise for you tonight my dear," Mr. DeWight said as if they had not just had a discussion on him drugging her.

Her boss guided her through the crowd, nodding to people as he passed and telling them he would bring Diamond back to meet them shortly.

Jen wondered what else was going to happen tonight when she saw them coming up to Dan, her heart speeding up at seeing her fiancé finally after a full week.

"I thought you could use some moral support tonight, so wanted to surprise you with your fiancé," Mr. DeWight said.

Jen looked at him in shock, then back to Dan in horror.

"Yes, I know who your fiancée is dear, there's no need to be so discrete any longer," Mr. DeWight said to her as she felt her world cave in.

Mr. DeWight finally had found out she and Dan were an item! What were they supposed to do, and what will the FBI say? Could they even protect her?

A million thoughts were going through her head as she walked towards the love of her life when suddenly Nick, the FBI agent stepped from behind Dan.

Jen's first thought was she had been betrayed by the FBI. Why else would Nick be here at a party in Mr. DeWight's house?

And then suddenly she recalled his story the other night, about meeting Mr. DeWight who presumed Nick was her fiancé. With a flood of relief coursing through her, she realized Mr. DeWight was talking about Nick as her fiancé, not Dan.

She realized walking towards Dan was only coincidence, Mr. DeWight actually walking her to Nick.

In sudden clarity she knew she had to act as if Nick, not Dan, were her beloved.

Then in dread and dismay she wondered what she should call the agent. Had he used his first name, or was he going by some other name? She tried to recall what he had said about his meeting with Mr. DeWight and she was in such a nervous wreck she could not remember.

Forcing a smile she hoped was believable on her face, she sped up saying, "Honey!" as she came up to Nick and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek.

Nick's arms immediately went around her and as she looked in shock at his smiling face.

The FBI agent grinned, saying, "Honey, is that any way to treat me after being gone all week?"

Suddenly his lips were upon hers, Jen's eyes opening in surprise. She felt Nick's tongue on her lips and without realizing it, opened her mouth, letting his tongue enter and explore her mouth. Instinctively she closed her eyes, feeling one of the agent's hands slide down her back to cup her ass as she returned the kiss, her body heating up at the man's proximity.

Eventually the FBI agent pulled away, leaving her out of breath as she looked at her true fiancé with complete humiliation.

"You remember my buddy Dan from the club, don't you Diamond?" Mr. DeWight said as Jen nodded, still looking at Dan until she lowered her in humiliation at her response to Nick's kiss.

"I've paired him up with Nick up tonight, since you'll be busy schmoozing most of the night and meeting guests," Mr. DeWight said. "But don't worry, you and Nick can catch up on all your lost time after the party," he winked as Jen felt her body flush.

At least she knew the FBI agent used his real first name, alleviating one of her fears. She wished she had read more of the papers the agent had given to her on his history, fearful Mr. DeWight would ask more about the agent.

She had gone to such great lengths for Mr. DeWight not to know about Dan, and now she had to act like she was willing to spend her life with a complete stranger.

Mr. DeWight's voice broke her dismayed thoughts as he said, "Come my dear, it's time to meet some of your other perspective financiers," leading her away from Dan and the FBI agent.

She was actually thankful to be pulled away from the agent, still uncertain how to act around him. The implications of Mr. DeWight assuming the agent was her fiancé started to hit her. Was she expected to live in the house with them? What about her wedding with Dan? What about her friends?

Her mind was once again in turmoil at the sudden change in plans for her involvement and she barely paid attention to where Mr. DeWight was leading her.

She risked a moment to glance back at the two men, mouthing the words, "I love you," to Dan, hoping he was close enough to Nick for anybody to misinterpret who she was actually speaking to as she saw him hide a small smile. She felt a warmth in her stomach at his acceptance and understanding as his childhood rival led her away from them.

Jen's body was feeling warm, and as Mr. DeWight handed her another glass of champagne, she realized she had completely drunk the spiked drink he had given her earlier.

She could still feel Nick's kiss upon her lips, wondering if her body's response was from the drug or her earlier aroused feelings. In the end, she realized glumly, it did not matter. Mr. DeWight would have his way regardless of why her body was aroused, and she had agreed to play along at least until she could find a way out of her contract.

So for the first time this week, she gave in to her feelings completely. As Mr. DeWight introduced her to each man, she welcomed them intimately—leaning against them, putting her arms around them, even kissing them on the cheek or nibbling their ears—anything to get them to agree to pay the entry fee for her syndication party.

Soon she was in familiar territory, knowing her stripper persona was coming to the forefront of her thoughts. Mr. DeWight was correct, she once again realized, her being sensuous to the men was no different than at the club, pushing all thoughts about the ungodly amounts of money involved and living for the moment.

The men she met were not surprised at her amorous treatment of them. In fact, they seemed to expect it as if it were a normal thing to have a woman hanging all over them, letting them feel her up, while having a conversation with Mr. DeWight or another man. The men treated her like an inanimate object, less of a woman or human being and more than a commodity.

As she hung upon the men Mr. DeWight introduced her, she allowed them to touch her. And to her dismay she was enjoying the attention. She knew she was acting like a complete slut, and instead of receiving admonition from the looks of those around her, she saw praise and approval as her ass was repeatedly grabbed, stroked, and squeezed, as were other parts of her body.

And to Jen's chagrin, she enjoyed the attention, giving in to the flagrant merchandising of her own body. The combination of her earlier arousal dancing, the alcohol in her system, the drugs, and even Nick's kiss had lowered her inhibitions completely. She reconciled her thoughts about her actions in line with Mr. DeWight's words, she had agreed to comply with her contract and advertising herself was part of that contract.

So she thought nothing untoward about her actions when she was eventually introduced to two men and one of them asked if her breasts were real. Following Mr. DeWight's example from the airport, she told the man, "Why don't you see for yourself?"

Immediately the man reached out and began touching her breasts, only releasing one of them when his partner reached out to feel her up as well.

As her breasts were fondled—again inciting a response from her body—Jen saw other men around the room watching her, openly allowing the men to grope her. As if her actions had given permission to everybody and set an example, it became routine for everybody she was introduced to for them to simply reach out and waste no time in feeling her up, not even asking for permission before groping her.

The thought came to her of being at one of the girl's parties one night and her dog had gone around the room for attention. The guests had all reached down and petted the dog, not even taking notice of it as they talked with their friends.

Such was the way she was being treated now. Mr. DeWight had stopped even introducing the men to her, instead walking up to them and greeting them, while she, like the dog at the party, moved up to them for them to touch her.

She no longer had any impropriety, freely allowing the men to grope her tits, her ass, even allowing a few to touch her crotch, their fingers sliding across the material of her thong without any rebuttal from her. The men expected her acquiescence, not even asking for her permission to touch her before their hands were upon her.

And she realized she had no permission to give. This was Mr. DeWight's party, and she was the proverbial lamb being brought to slaughter. What the men did was acceptable to him, and short of having sex with her, he enjoyed her perverted mishandling.

She wallowed in shame and self-pity while outwardly smiling and laughing as she 'mingled' with the crowd.

Adding to her anguish and worry was her body's response. Her breasts—always one of her most sensitive locations of her body—felt ready to explode, her nipples hard as pebbles, while the rest of her body was warm, flushed, and aroused.

She no longer wondered at her body's increased response, something she had noticed all week. Again, whether it was the drugs in her body, the alcohol, or even her exhibitionist streak enjoying being on display in such scantily covered clothing, she no longer cared. The bottom line was she was having a difficult time keeping down her arousal, her body yearning for a release.

Even her humiliation and shame at allowing the men to touch her was arousing. Her lack of having any say or control over what was done to her was as much of an aphrodisiac as the men's touch itself.

After a while Diamond discovered she was actually enjoying the attention, enjoying being passed amongst the men in the crowd, not like a dog looking for attention, but a fine wine to be sampled and shared.

She had just left one man's lap, his hand gliding up and down the inside of her leg as she French kissed him, when Mr. DeWight pulled her aside. He had told her before meeting this man that she had enticed close to a dozen investors, but he still wanted more.

"I think it's time to sweeten the pot, so-to-speak," Mr. DeWight told her, surprising her as he reached out and grasped her hips.

Diamond leaned in expecting him to kiss her—her mind wondering how she was giving in so easily to her exploitation—when she felt him grasp the bands of her thong on her hips. Suddenly, with a flick of his fingers, she felt the material give way, Mr. DeWight having released the quick-release buckles on the thong!

The thong did not move though, wedged between the crack of her ass and worse yet, within the folds of her labia.

"Go ahead, take it off," Mr. DeWight told her.

Blushing in embarrassment—as well as shamed arousal—Diamond reached down and pulled the thong, gasping quietly as the material slid free from the folds of her flesh.

Around her several men were golf-clapping, smiling and raising their glasses up at their appreciation to Mr. DeWight as he took the black material from Diamond's hands, setting it on one of the hostess' trays of champagne as they passed by.

Diamond was now bottomless, wearing nothing but a sheer fly-away dress, stockings, and black stiletto platform Louboutin shoes.

Once again she felt her body heat up in shame. Although she had danced naked the last few performances, being in a party scenario was not a place she expected to be found in such a state.

And Mr. DeWight acted like nothing else had happened, taking her by the waist and leading her to another group of men as if nothing had occurred. As she was led by Mr. DeWight's arm around her, she saw the men were gathered near the center of the ballroom by the stage where the two-story pole was located.

"Gentlemen," Mr. DeWight said as they near the men, Diamond fully aware of her near nudity as her boss introduced her. "May I present Diamond, our DSA Spokesmodel," he said for what was probably the hundredth time that night.

"Actually, we've already met," said a large man. Diamond looked at the man, who was large not in the way the Russian man had been fat, but as in a man who worked for a living, his body toned and well-muscled.

Diamond looked up at his face and felt her cheeks redden, recognizing one of the construction workers—actually the foreman—who had remodeled the Satin Kitty. To her consternation it was the same man who had fingered her to orgasm in front of his men, holding her up by her bruised breast as she hung in front of him limply while his large hand shoved his fingers in and out of her core.

And next to him was the rude foreman, the one who had treated her like shit, as if he expected her to listen to his directions like a bitch in heat, not caring about what she thought. At the time she had thought him and Mr. DeWight would get along, as their thoughts on women ran along the same lines.

The man her attention was upon grinned, as if he could read her mind, or maybe he was once again seeing her in a position of subjection.

Whatever the reason for his smile, Diamond suddenly felt exposed. Although she had been naked dancing, the fact she was standing before him bottomless made her feel completely exposed, and from the grin on his face, he knew how uncomfortable he made her feel, actually relishing in her fear and shame.

"Yes, well, Diamond, may I formally introduce Tim Bell and Jake Watkins, two of my best and most favorite contractors for remodeling clubs," he said to her. Before anybody else could say anything in response, Mr. DeWight looked at the large construction foreman and said, "That reminds me, Jake, I'd like a few moments to talk to you about those figures on redoing the poles at some of the other clubs," he said to the large man. "If you wouldn't mind sparing a few minutes?" he asked.

"Definitely not Mr. DeWight, I already have put in my entry fee," he said with a smile at Diamond. "I only needed to watch her that first day to know she would be worth an investment," he said to her boss.

"Excellent!" her boss said as he turned to her. "Diamond, I leave you into the capable hands of Tim," Mr. DeWight said, moving away with the large man to Diamond's alarm.

Although she was nervous to be left alone with the rude man, she knew he could not treat her here at the party like he had at the club, when it had been him and his crew. Even so, she still got a bad vibe from the man, knowing he had a lower opinion of women than even Mr. DeWight.

"So slut," the man began, eliminating any doubt in Diamond's mind of her opinion of the man, "I told you we would meet up again. "Let's get to the chase on why Mr. DeWight left you here with me. What makes you so special from any other cunt to deserve investing my money in your entertainment enterprise?" he asked.

This was one man Diamond did not care for, having absolutely no interest in his investment into her career as she answered truthfully, "Actually, I don't give two shits on your investment," she said.

Surprisingly the man bust out laughing. "Now that's the spunkiness I expected from you," he grinned.

Diamond was suddenly relieved when two more men approached them, having seen Mr. DeWight leave and apparently not wanting to wait for him to make his and Diamond's way towards them later.

"Heyas Tim, we saw you had the star of the party here, so thought we'd rescue her," one man said amicably, looking at Diamond with a smile.

She remembered some of the workers saying something similar at the club, thankful for the men's presence and intervention.

Then she was startled when Tim's arm went around her waist, pulling her next to him against the stage.

The men looked at her apologetically, as if they themselves were embarrassed by Tim's behavior.

Meanwhile the rude man's hand was not idle in the other men's presence, instead sliding across her bare ass as he gave her butt a squeeze.

Without a break in the conversation, he laughed at the other men. "Well, Diamond here was about to tell me why she was worthy of such a hefty investment into her production value," Tim said to the other men while his hand continued to roam over Diamond's bare ass.

The men began talking about construction, Diamond realizing the others were attempting to divert the rude man's attention from her.

Unfortunately their plan did not work. As the men talked, she was fully conscious of the rude man's hand upon her, touching and squeezing her ass roughly.

She was thankful when a hostess brought a tray of hors d'oeuvres to them and his hand left her body to take some of the appetizers—small lobster tails and crab cakes.

"Have you tried these lobster tails," the man said to her as if the other two men were not even there. "They are loaded with butter," he said to her with a smile.

Diamond made a scowl as the man shoved the entire hors d'oeuvre into his mouth, his hand once again returning to her ass, his palm centered over her ass.