The Dance

The light misty rain fell softly against my face, my eyelashes. My vision sparkled as old fashioned street light illumination shone through. My feet were cold. I was standing barefoot on the cobblestones, silently absorbing and enjoying the turn of the century atmosphere that was Gastown, Vancouver.

I was cold. I wore nothing under my fancy purple trench coat, save for a thin elastic sequined belt around my waist. It's snugness only emphasized the freeness, the bareness of the rest of my body.

I heard the car door slam behind me. My husband and Master had parked the car. He had thoughtfully dropped me off so I wouldn't have to walk so far and possibly damage my feet. His steps echoed off the building walls and cars. I shivered.

I didn't know exactly what He had planned for me tonight, but the fact that we were outside our home, in public, put a frisson of fearsome anticipation up my spine. His hand settled at the small of my back, guiding me as we walked a half block and turned into a doorway. The simple sign, "No. 5 Orange" looked classy, but it brought an uneasy memory to the surface. Wasn't this a...the open door showed me that it was.

I drew in a ragged breath. This was a full nudity strip club. It dawned on me why my Master had brought me here. My whole crotch area ached, flexed. My Master guided me skillfully through the tables, mostly full of men. It looked like the place was almost full. My eyes skittered across a sign announcing that it was a men's only night, a salute to the women's only nights that were becoming so popular.

My Master whispered into my ear. "I want you to dance for me, my Pet, as you've never danced before. You will do it to this music," I felt a tape pushed into my hand, "And you will give this and my card to that man." He pointed out man standing close to the sound and special light effects board. I glanced down at the card in my hand. The only thing written on it was a large embossed golden J written in old script. It could have been a calling card.

"Go." He said, pushing me forward. I had to walk the last ten feet by myself. The club manager noticed me. He looked me over, clearly wondering what I was doing there as I wasn't one of his regular dancers. His eyes were dismissing me, as if saying now was not good time to have an audition--he had work to do.

Before I lost his attention entirely, I showed him the card. His eyes widened, looking at me. He smiled. My hand shook as I gave him the tape. He turned, issuing swift instructions to his staff.

Within a couple of minutes the music had wound down and the girls occupying the stage were finishing up their dancing, leaving amidst cat calls and whistles. It was obvious J had set this up well in advance to our arrival. I looked back for him but couldn't see him. Had he sat down at a table? My eyes scanned the room but didn't find him before the lights dimmed.

"Your turn, Honey." the club manager said. He pointed to some steps that led up to the stage. "You won't be needing this." and with one smooth movement my coat was slipped off. It hadn't been buttoned or belted shut on my Master's orders--only my hands in my pockets had kept the coat closed over my body.

I was completely naked, the memory of my Master's voice whispering "Dance for me." the only thing that kept me from running away. My fear made me stiff legged as I walked onto the stage. The light was blinding. I couldn't see anything past the light, no men. But I could feel their eyes on me.

I was not introduced. A sultry tune I'd never heard before began to play over the speakers. "Dance for me." Suddenly I was free. I would dance for my Master and only my Master. I smiled in relief, in love. My body straightened, swaying to the music as I sashayed down the runway. I would dance. Since I didn't know where He was seated, I would have to use the entire stage so he could see me properly. Decision made, I let the music take over.

I started with a full body stretch, my hands high over my head, reaching for the ceiling, walking on tiptoe. I did a little spin to release the last of my nervous energy, trailing one hand down my arm, sliding it over my hair, neck and lower, my other hand quickly following.

Images of my Master holding me, running His hands down my body, made my hands follow where His had touched. Down my breasts, stomach, gliding down my hips, dipping between my thighs then back up around my waist, down my ass to the bottom, lifting and spreading my cheeks, exposing my anus.

The music had lost some of it's melody as a strong drumbeat began to emerge. I automatically danced to the beat, letting it guide my steps, my spins. I liked the way my body flexed, my own movements arousing.

I wanted to stretch my legs. My glance fell on the pole at the end of the runway. I smiled. While standing, I lifted my left leg so my foot rested on it above my head. My muscles strained and stretched. My body leaned backwards, forcing my legs into an almost vertical split on the bar. I bounced as if I were humping it.

Distantly I could hear the men react as they cheered. I reached forward to hold the bar, torso leaning in, putting the weight on my right foot. A shift of my waist and I was slowly spinning around the pole, gradually lowering myself and my leg to the floor. I felt a hand touch my waist, fumble at it as it folded paper money over my belt. I still couldn't see faces, but I could see their hands reaching for me. None of them were my Master's. But then, they wouldn't be. Putting money in my belt wasn't His style.

The encroaching hands only went to my waist. I relaxed, remembering the strict no-touch laws strip clubs had to follow. I waited a beat too long. Someone was trying to stroke my back.

I rolled away, moving to the center of the runway on my hands and knees, butt in the air showing open pussy lips. I stopped. I leaned way forward so I could spread my legs into my almost splits, humping the floor, raising my ass high. I was begging my Master to fuck me. This was a similar move I used in our private playtime, a silent invitation to his cock.

I pushed against the floor arching my back painfully, showing my breasts off to the men in front of me. I drew my legs together in front, then opened wide, exposing my now hot and dripping self. I was lost in my mind, in my music, imagining my Master watching me, growing hard as a rock...I wanted Him inside me.

The rest of the dance passed in a blur. Music, fantasy and reality flowing into each other like a dream. I stroked myself almost to a climax, but didn't let myself slip over the edge, knowing my Master liked to do that for me personally.

Still, when the music stopped with a flourish and I was standing there, gasping for breath, my muscles sweetly aching, I got a thrilling rush upwards from my vagina. I blushed, hoping my Master hadn't noticed that little slip. I strode off the stage, back straight, pride in every line of my body, the men's cheers deafening in the silence left by the music.

The club owner met me at the bottom of the steps, sliding my coat over my shoulders, shielding my body from prying eyes. He guided me backstage past dressing room doors and the occasional stripper. It occurred to me why I hadn't gone on stage in a costume that I would need to strip off. That would have been something the audience wanted. But since the dance was for my Master, He didn't need me clothed. I melted inwardly at that thought, hoping He'd been pleased.

Then my Master was there and I was looking into His eyes shining with the light of possession. I was His.

Events moved quickly. His car was brought around to the back by club staff. My Master lifted me off my feet and carried me to the car, not trusting the ground of the back alley to be safe. He settled me in, closed the door. We didn't speak the whole ride home, but the air between us thrummed with sexual tension.

We barely made it through the front door before He was on me, pulling the coat off, tangling His hand in my hair as He held my head while kissing me. His other hand glided down my body, arrested at my waist. We'd forgotten about the money.

He pushed me away, tracing His hands around the belt. His eyes were somber, thoughtful. He raised His eyes to me, His look fiercely possessive. "You are Mine." He growled, His tone curling my toes.

He roughly jerked me back to Him, picking up where He'd left off, lifting me by my ass cheeks so I had to wrap my legs around Him. Once His pants were down, He laid me on the back edge of our sofa, a precarious perch that made me cling to Him all the more as He pounded His thick cock into me.

In time with His thrusts, I heard His litany, "Mine. My Pet. Mine." repeated over and over until we both climaxed, spent, tumbling onto the sofa in a tangle of bodies, the money's crinkling sound almost louder than our gasps.

I marvelled. My Master had found a way of sharing me with others. The strict no-touch rule allowed Him to show me, His beautiful Pet, off to other men without worrying that things would get out of hand.

I knew He took pride in the way I looked and acted, in the attention I drew from other men, secretly pleased that I was with Him and not some other. However, this was the first time He'd tried to show off my raw sexuality to other men.

It had cost Him. He'd needed to reassure Himself by taking me, reclaiming me. But it showed me how much He'd grown, how much He trusted me to love Him and no other. I smiled, warmed to my core. Of course I would never leave Him. He was my Master and the Love of my life. There could be no one else for me but Him.

I snuggled in, contented, loved and well used by my Master, falling asleep in His arms.