Taking Advantage

Warning: Reader discretion is strongly advised. This is a particularly dark story about sex that is dubiously consentual and impregnation that is nonconsentual written from a male perspective. Many of my stories focus on shame and humiliation, but this one is more brutal than usual.

For most of his life Gary thought that stripclubs were about the saddest place that existed. Poor, damaged women gyrated on a mirrored neon stage for pathetic, desperate men. The strippers showed their customers what they'll never get to taste of an inch at a time, and their customers showered them with a few crumpled up bills for the privilege. Then they both walked away with a bad taste in their mouths, with both of them feeling like they got the short end of the stick. Gary realized that was a suckers game decades ago, but tonight he wasn't here to see tits. Instead he sat in the back of this dive, nursing a watered down mai thai while he watched a bottle blond going through the motions on stage. If anything, he thought, COVID had made places like these even worse than they'd been only a year or two ago. The prettiest women had all fled to OnlyFans, and the crowd was thinner than the hair of the average customer watching the show. It was nothing but the dregs of humanity on both sides of the equation these days, he thought, which suited him fine, desperation was exactly what he looked for when he wasted an evening in one of these little hell holes.

"Care for a dance?" a raven haired stripper asked him as she prowled the darkness looking to make a quick fifty off of her sagging tits.

"Maybe later," Gary answered with a quick shake of his head. He hadn't gotten a lapdance from a predator like that in almost thirty years, when he was too young to know better.

At almost fifty he was starting to show his age, so even half covered in tattoos she was probably still hot enough to be out of his league, but he had the money to afford better pussy without breaking a sweat. That was the reason he visited places like this on business trips: because every woman here was for sale, whether she knew it or not. Dating or sugaring was always an option of course, if he wanted a woman he could take to social events. He wasn't here to show anyone off though. He just wanted someone he could spend the night ruining before his flight out tomorrow, but it looked like that wasn't going to be in the cards this time.

For the last two hours he'd watched a number of women with big breasts and dead eyes take off their costumes a piece at a time to rap songs and rock ballads, and even though the other dozen or so men had enthusiastically helped pay the dancers rent, not one of the strippers had made his dick hard. He'd actually gotten his phone out to call a cab when a girl that actually caught his attention finally came on stage.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen - give it up for the one, the only - SATIVA!" the DJ blasted across the speakers before some pop song he didn't recognize drowned out the weak smattering of applause the audience had offered up. Halfway through her first set he could see that she was the one, even if the other guys here seemed less than interested. In this case it was easy to understand the difference of opinions. Once her top came it became apparent that she had only a very modest rack. They were maybe a B cup or a C cup. It was hard to say from here, but considering all of the other dancers had been D cup or larger tonight it was clear that the audience had a preference and it wasn't her. That suited Gary just fine. He suffered through two more songs before she got off stage giving him time to study her body before she came around to reel some suckers in with lap dances.

"Want a dance Mister?" she asked when she finally reached his table while a red headed felicity danced on stage behind her. He could see she was expecting him to say no. He'd said no to so many of the performers tonight that they'd mostly stopped asking him an hour ago. That Sativa, or whatever her name was, had even bothered to try him knowing that, spoke to her desperation.

"That depends," he said after leaving her in suspense for a moment, "Do you dance in the private booths, or just out here where everyone can see?"

"I dance anywhere you can afford baby." She purred, trying to hide her surprise under a feigned interest in him. "It's not cheap though."

"Everything is cheap, if you've got enough money," he answered, letting that statement hang in the air for a moment. In truth he wasn't wealthy. Not by the standards of the real world. A couple million was nothing these days, but what he had was still enough to buy and sell every girl in the place without denting the limit on his Amex.

Sativa smiled, then took him by the hand and lead him back towards the darkly curtained booths by the stage. Like all the women he'd ever played this game with, she made a big show of it. Like he might be the one guy that managed to get lucky in a place like this. It was like the song said though - there was no sex in the champagne room. In a place like this there wasn't even a champagne room, there was just a spacious naugahyde bench for him to sit on his hands while the stripper flaunted her body in his face confident in the knowledge that he couldn't do anything about it.

"Here's for the dance," he said, offering her a couple fifties as he sat down, "and there's an extra hundred in it for you if you let me get a little handsy during your performance," he offered before sitting on his hands like a good boy.

"Keep the money," she said after thinking about it for long enough to show that she was interested, "and keep your hands to yourself too," she added before she climbed onto his lap and started to sway to the rhythm of some Aerosmith song he was sure that he knew once upon a time.

Gary didn't press the issue and leaned back, enjoying the show. He watched her hips sway and her tits jiggle, and took in all the tiny imperfections that told the story of the sad life that had led her here. He looked past her fake smile and dirty blonde hair to the details that really mattered. He could see the track marks that were old enough to say that she'd been clean for years, and the stretch marks on her belly and breasts that said that she had at least one kid, but possibly two. The lean look of her face and her sad eyes told that life was harder than usual, and she wasn't eating enough. It was that sadness that made his dick hard as much as the way she ground her ass against him. Unlike the other jaded whores in this establishment there was a sweet young girl still buried deep inside Sativa, and Gary desperately wanted to take advantage of her.

He bided his time though, waiting for the third song to reach its crescendo so he could get his money's worth before he spoke again. "If I went for one more round you'd probably make more than you would the rest of the night, wouldn't you," he asked.

"The night's still young, unlike you." she answered, trying to casually swat away his advances, but he could see he'd struck a nerve.

"You'd make even more if you let me tip you like I mentioned earlier." he added, smiling.

"I don't think that's the tip you're thinking about Mister." Sativa answered with a practiced coldness, "but if you want more dances then I'm happy to go again. If you just want to flirt you'd be better off buying me a drink like everyone else." She stared at him for a long moment, giving him a chance to make up his mind, but when he said nothing, she started to climb off.

"I don't want to flirt, and I don't want another dance," he said finally as he stood up, standing uncomfortably close to the dancer so that no one else could possibly hear what he said softly in her ear over the sound of the music. "I just want to make an offer: you're never going to make a living between this place and whatever it is you do for a day job. Between rent and babysitting alone I'll bet you're already falling behind and I--"

"I don't think that's any of your business," she interrupted, but he could see every word had found its mark. Between her instant anger and the fact that she hadn't stormed off yet, it was obvious that part of her was desperate enough to hear him out even if the rest of her knew she shouldn't.

"Of course it's not," he answered mildly, "I was just proposing that I might make it my business, just for one night of course."

"Are you calling me a whore?" she demanded, her anger blossoming into outrage.

"I'm just saying everyone needs a little help now and then." he pivoted, giving her the deniability her soul craved in this moment of indecision. "Whores sell themselves every night, women just do what they have to, to get by."

"I'm not that kind of woman," she answered, but the fire was gone. She was definitely thinking about it.

"I'm not saying you are." Gary answered smoothly, "I'm just saying that if you're going to sell pieces of yourself on that stage for a pittance, you might as well let me rent you for a night for... how much is rent around here? Twelve hundred?"

"Fifteen," she corrected almost instantly before stopping herself so she wouldn't appear too eager.

"Fifteen then." he said, knowing it was far too much for a girl like her, but not caring. Sativa's hunger and desperation was something he just couldn't get from a four hundred dollar escort though. He flashed a wad of hundreds he kept in his front pocket just long enough enough for her to see he was serious. "It's a small price to pay to help a woman like you out."

"I didn't say yes," she said, still not leaving as she struggled with the terrible choice he offered her.

"Well, you've got an hour to decide." Gary answered, pushing the curtain aside and walking past her. "After that an old man like me turns into a pumpkin."

She didn't try to stop him, but that didn't matter. He already knew he had her. She just needed some time to justify to herself that it was okay to do the one thing she swore she'd never stoop to, just this once. Gary had seen it play out a dozen times before. Very few women enjoyed showing their bodies off to perverts for money, but none of them enjoyed it when the money wasn't enough. In his experience they all made themselves the same promises, and then they all violated them when things got bad enough.

He sat back down and waited, enduring the attention of the other dancers now that he'd marked himself as someone that could be a big spender while his preferred dancer made up her mind. Eve let him know that if he didn't believe her tits were real he could check for himself, Cherry told him that even though she'd lost her cherry years ago she still had the box it came in, and Ebony made sure that he knew that once you go black you never go back. Gary ignored all of these attempts to get him alone with polite indifference. Any of the three would have been prettier and likely cheaper than the dancer he'd set his heart on tonight, but fucking them wouldn't be any fun because they were already dead inside.

That did nothing for Gary. It would be like fucking a blow up doll, or his second wife, he thought, laughing quietly to himself while he passed the time watching the strippers gyrate on the poll. Finally thirty minutes later Sativa reappeared. "Buy me a drink." she told him. It wasn't a question, and Gary smiled slightly as he laid out a few twenties on the table, and a waitress quickly exchanged them for a glass of what almost certainly wasn't alcohol.

"I can't go back to your hotel with you," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I have a babysitter that needs me home by two."

"Then you can invite me back to your place." he responded. "I'll be there ten minutes after they leave."

"But you can't come to my house, I--" she said.

"Okay. If that's how you feel, but at this rate I doubt you'll be staying there much longer either." he answered.

"No," she said, a note of desperation in her voice, "It's just that I have a baby, and it's a studio. I can't bring strangers home to my daughter."

Gary's heart went out to her for that comment, but it also made him want her more. "No, I understand. Any good mother wouldn't want to bring one of these losers within a mile of their children, but a man like me..." Sativa looked at him and saw what he wanted her to see - an aging harmless older man in a business suit. Even the idea of letting someone so safe and normal looking into her home to do something so sleazy though - she looked like her heart was breaking under the strain of the terrible position he was putting her in. He loved every minute of it.

"Fine," she said finally, slipping a cocktail napkin out of her pocket and leaving it on the table. "Two twenty. Don't try anything funny, or you'll regret it." Then she was gone. Gary waited a couple minutes before picking up the napkin and noting the address on it. It wasn't in the best part of town, and there were definitely no $1500 studios anywhere near there, but it should be fine. He replayed the conflicted look on her face as she gave in and felt his dick throb in sympathy. Tonight was going to be a great night.

Gary popped a viagra with the dregs of his drink and let another hour pass before he called a cab, and he waited across the street from the shabby apartment building until he saw an older woman who definitely had a family resemblance to his stripper leave out of the front gate before he walked over to ring the buzzer on unit 221. While he waited he wondered if granny had aged particularly well or if Sativa's mom had experienced a life every bit as hard as what her daughter's was shaping up to be. Either one spoke to the terrible circumstances of her life as clearly as the dreadful condition of her building as he walked up stairs that reeked of piss under the flickering fluorescent lights.

When he reached her door he knocked softly, and after half a minute of hesitation he heard the deadbolt and the chain being shifted so she could usher him inside before someone could catch a glimpse. Gary didn't care who might see him though as he strolled in. He was far more interested in what he would find behind the door. The apartment was hardly something he would even call a studio. It looked like someone had converted an old motel room into cheap housing, but it might have been even more cramped than that. There was a very small kitchen wedged against the wall across from the twin bed. The bathroom had the only door that could be closed for privacy. Even the closet didn't bother to waste its limited space on a door to hide what was behind it. As cramped as it all was though, it still had a woman's touch to make it lovely.

Looking around the room he could imagine how the few pictures on the walls covered unsightly holes, and the throw rugs and furniture covered mysterious stains she'd prefer not to be reminded of. He could feel all the trouble she'd gone to, to make even a small and awful space feel safe for the crib that sat just below the window and he smiled, knowing what a violation it was to even let a man like him into her sanctum like this. How would she ever hide the stains he left behind, he wondered idly as he stepped toward the pretty young woman.

"Not so fast," she said, taking a step back. "Show me the money first."

"Naturally," he said with a smile, peeling off hundreds off his money clip one at a time until he held 15 of them in his hand before tucking the rest away.

When she reached for it though, Gary walked past her and sat down on the edge of her bed. "Slow down baby. I want you to earn it. Give me one more dance - the one I wanted at the club where I could appreciate you with more than just my eyes."

Sativa's eyes darted from the crib where her baby slept to her bed where a stranger was holding a wad of bills in his hand and back. He knew what she was thinking. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to fuck a man for money? Of course he knew the answer seconds before she did, and when she picked up her phone to play a slow grinding R&B song, she knew it too. She was going to do whatever she had to, to get paid. It was two or maybe even three months rent in a shithole like this, and a lifeline like that was worth a little bit of her self respect, even if she didn't have much left to give either.

"So that's what you want, huh? Sex with the stripper?" she asked as the song started. "You want to fuck the girl that everyone else only got to watch?" Once the baseline had started in earnest and the vocals had picked up she set down the phone and approached him with her hips swaying in time to the beat. She'd changed out of the lacy number she'd been dancing with in the club and had switched to a t-shirt and jeans, but as she peeled those pants off one beat at a time, she revealed her lovely curves. Gary was entranced. She'd seemed cold in the beginning, but now her movements were more passionate and sincere than they'd been in the club. He wondered if she was just hoping to get him off before he had the chance to fuck her or if it was the money that was motivating the increased sensuality.

Finally after her shirt came off she sat facing away from him on his lap, leaving her in only black cotton panties and a gray sports bra. It was the least sexy outfit she'd worn all night but the authenticity of it made him ache as he reached around and started groping her tits through that thin cloth. She flinched at his touch the first couple times, but didn't stop him. "God you're a sexy little slut," he whispered, sliding several hundred dollar bills under the elastic band at the bottom of the bra.

He reached up to turn her head to the side so he could kiss her and she pulled away. "No, no kissing," she whispered, still obviously uncomfortable with letting a stranger touch her like this.

"If that's what you want slut," he said, relaxing his grip on her chin so she could turn away from him. That was when he grabbed her short hair and pulled her off balance, making her gasp. "In my book for this much money I can do whatever I want. Now if you don't like that, that's fine - I won't force you. I'll let you keep the money I've already given you and I'll go home and jerk off. The choice is yours." He watched the fear give way to despair as she realized no was the last thing she could say, even if she hated the idea.

"Fine." she said coldly. "Anything is on the menu, as long as you wear a condom. If you aren't going to do that, then you can leave right now. The last thing I need is another mouth to feed."

"Of course." Gary replied smoothly, "What kind of man picks up strippers and plans to fuck them raw. Who knows where they've been." He watched her face sour at the insult, and then kissed her before she could respond. Her lips were soft but her mouth was unyielding and it took a few seconds to force his tongue into her mouth. Finally he moved his other hand down from her breast to her panties, sliding his fingers into her panties to seek out her clit. If she wanted to pretend to be frigid, he was going to make that choice as difficult as possible. After a few seconds he was rewarded with a light moan. Her pussy was still dry, but he was sure he could fix that if he could press the right buttons a few times.

They stayed like that, kissing and touching until Sativa started to respond, and then he broke the kiss, picking up the remaining bills. "What's the matter slut?" he asked sardonically, "Not enjoying yourself? Maybe my money will turn you on more than my touch." As he spoke he started to slide bill after bill into her waist band.

"No," she denied, "It's not that it's..."

"It's what," he demanded. "You're not usually like this? You don't normally do this sort of thing?" Before she could respond he pushed her to his feet and stood up himself, turning her to face the dirty full length mirror that hung near the bed. "Why don't you take a look and see what I see?"