Trust Fund Baby Pt. 15

"My private dancer is in her forties," I advised them. "However, she is extremely youthful looking for her age, and with the right make-up she looks twenty five. I want her hair straight," I added.

When Jody showed up at exactly 3pm, I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized that this was going to happen. I was going to get the love of my life all dolled up, and fuck her in front of her husband, who happened to be my nemesis. It just didn't get any better than this.

As soon as Jody entered my strip-club, I could tell that she was inebriated. Presumably to take the edge off, she had imbibed three glasses of Chardonnay and was feeling no pain. I introduced her to the make-over team, and they were very excited by Jody's youthful appearance, stating that the transformation to innocent teenager would be a breeze. I had to smile when Jody handed me a sealed dry-cleaning bag, the contents of which, the Japanese schoolgirl uniform and her original Patriots Cheerleader Uniform, I hung up in clear view of all the women.

"Is this the look we are going for?" the lead make-up artist asked. "Innocent schoolgirl?"

This event is titled "Jody, a loss of innocence" I said cheerfully. "As the name suggests, she will start out as a very innocent young woman, before becoming progressively more lewd."

Jody shuffled around nervously, as we openly discussed her debasement.

"I want her in this to start," I said firmly, handing one of the women a bag with my desired outfit in it. "I will see you guys later."

I checked in on the makeover twice over the next hour, noticing that Jody had a large glass of wine on the counter before her, which she sipped periodically to maintain her buzz. Sitting there in a white silk "Top Shelf Pussy" robe, Jody looked like just another one of my strippers, and I contemplated how she had managed to maneuver her way into such an easy, luxurious lifestyle, through her skillful use of sexual manipulation.

As I admired her from the doorway, I felt a pang of regret that she wasn't mine. Certainly for the next several hours I was going to possess her, but at the end of her humiliation, she would be going back to Steve Baldwin's huge mansion in her Pink Convertible Rolls-Royce, which was her current car, now that her child-rearing responsibilities were behind her. I truly loved this woman, and yet she was still unattainable to me.

After about an hour, the lead make-up artist informed me that Jody was ready.

"We will touch her up just before she goes on stage," she advised me. "Do you want her dressed in her first stage outfit?"

"Leave her in the robe," I said decisively. "Escort her to the VIP room."

A few moments later, as I sat in my large oversized recliner, Jody tapped lightly on the door of the VIP room.

"Enter," I said firmly, as the door slowly opened.

Despite our sexual history, two random hook-ups spread over the course of twenty years, Jody appeared very uncomfortable as she shuffled in. Much of her self-confidence had disappeared, no doubt replaced with self-doubt and regret at the way she had been manipulated into dancing for me twenty years after her last foray into the brightly-lit environment of a strip-club stage.

It had been on this very stage too, two decades prior, on Amateur Night as her current benefactor and owner, Jon Dodd, had forced his identical looking girlfriends, Jody and Rachel under the bright lights, dressed as cheerleaders. They had been a hit with the capacity crowd, performing a sensual simulated sex-act, with an ominous looking phallus.

Twenty years later, as a housewife and a mother, Jody Baldwin was about to be forced back on to the main stage of "Top Shelf Pussy," wearing the exact same Patriots Cheerleader uniform, that thankfully still fit her rocking little body. The absence of a crowd, and its attendant atmosphere would probably make the event more humiliating, especially as the sole attendee was her husband, Steve.

As she stood before me with her gaze lowered, Jody was breathing heavily, which I surmised was from stress rather than arousal.

"Do we really have to do this, Pete?" she asked timidly. "I am too old for this shit."

"I have waited nearly twenty five years to get my revenge on your prick of a husband," I said firmly.

"But do you need to embarrass me so thoroughly?" she responded. "Can't we just fuck in private, in the VIP room?"

"Jody," I began assertively, "this is happening tonight. You need to come to terms with it. And if was looking to embarrass you, I would have invited your entire PTA members to attend, your church choir maybe."

A look of despair flashed across Jody's reddening face, as she contemplated how much worse it could have been, had her fellow members of Jessie's Parent Teacher Association been invited to watch her debasement.

I parted my legs slightly, to allow Jody to see that I had removed the middle seat panel of the oversized recliner, thereby enabling it to be used as a pleasure chair. I had enjoyed numerous rim-jobs over the years relaxing on that leather throne, and as Jody stared forlornly at the floor visible through the large gap in the seat, the inference was that I wanted to enjoy a little pre-show analingus.

The surprise was written all over her angelic face as I rose from the pleasure chair, and addressed her.

"Loosen your robe, Jody," I instructed her, as she pulled gently on the waist cord causing the front to slip open. "Sit," I added, pointing to the leather throne.

Once Jody was comfortably positioned, we were joined by one of my most recent new hires, Red. A popular attraction in the VIP room, Red had spent countless hours under the pleasure chair, and without the embarrassment of any formal introductions, she simply nodded politely at Jody, before sliding under the chair on her back. There were already two pillows situated under the chair, which enabled Red to adjust her head to the correct height.

Taking a seat on a small ottoman directly in front of the chair, I signaled my intent to watch, and as Red maneuvered her head into the perfect position, she slowly extended her tongue. Jody jumped reflexively as Red's moist tongue grazed the outer folds of her labia, but as she adjusted to the soft caresses, her eyes widened and she let out a moan.

Red was an expert at tease and denial, and was the club's biggest earner in the VIP room. Men would pay two hundred and fifty dollars for thirty minutes in the private enclave, during which time Red would tease them incessantly. As the men writhed in ecstasy on the pleasure chair, they would invariably lose track of time, and were disappointed when Red announced that the session was over. More often than not, being in a heightened state of arousal, the men would fork over another two hundred and fifty dollars for a second session. After informing the stage manager that she would be in the VIP room for an additional thirty minutes, Red would spend the first few minutes on her knees showcasing her outstanding oral abilities.

Once the man was truly desperate to have an orgasm, she would negotiate the terms and cost of his climax, often able to extort exorbitant amounts of money from the guy in exchange for his release. Because sexual activity in the VIP room was technically forbidden, the man had no recourse or avenue for complaint. They would occasionally leave disgruntled, nearly always returning a few days later, and asking if Red was available.

It was this skill-set that Red brought to the VIP room on this late afternoon, and as I watched on in awe, the young stripper teased Jody incessantly, bringing her tantalizingly close to orgasm on numerous occasions. I refilled Jody's wine glass twice more as she writhed under Red's expert touch.

"Please, Pete," Jody begged me on more than one occasion. "Let me have an orgasm. Take the edge off."

Red let out a contended giggle as she received confirmation that she had successfully brought Jody to a maddening state of desperate arousal, and I shook my head to deny Jody her much needed release.

"I want you to be an easy come when we fuck in front of your husband," I said quietly. "However, if you want to take the edge off slightly, I will get you some pharmaceutical assistance."

I had secured some insurance for myself, having crushed three Viagra into a fine powder that I intended to pour into a drink, in the event that I developed stage-fright, and was unable to get an erection. With this in mind, it seemed reasonable to give Jody a little bump too, so I left the VIP room briefly, returning with a large glass of wine, into which I had crushed three MDMA pills.

I had extensive experience with ecstasy, having personally used it over the last two decades, as well as sharing it with several of my sexual partners. I found it to be a powerful aphrodisiac, and recognizing that Jody would probably fight her urges to orgasm, when I took her in front of her husband, I decided on the more powerful dose of three pills.

When I re-entered the VIP room, my nostrils were assaulted by the strong odor of female arousal. I hadn't really noticed the gradual permeation of the room as Jody had self-lubricated, and leaked vaginal secretions all over her labia, inner thighs and Red's lips and nose. However, after being outside of the VIP room for just a couple of minutes, on my return Jody's scent was overpowering. Red continued to tease Jody as she sipped her ecstasy-laced wine, scooting back slightly so that she could eat Jody's ass, which elicited a fresh set of whimpers from the trembling woman.

After Jody had finished her wine, I returned her to the make-over team. As the celebrity hairstylist arranged Jody's long platinum hair into pigtails, Jody, in her elevated state of arousal, shivered under her every touch.

"Dress her using the contents of the bag," I instructed the woman. "I am going to check on Baldwin."

Steve Baldwin arrived right on time, absent his usual bravado. When he politely asked for a drink, I informed him that my event permit prohibited alcohol consumption for the duration of the show. I seated him in a front-row center seat, and shortly after he was situated, he was joined by two men who he had known for the last thirty years, Newport Beach's Police Chief, and the Fire Marshal. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Steve arose from his seat and approached me.

"What the fuck, Pete?" he said angrily, "I am supposed to be alone at this event."

"You are the sole paying guest," I responded cheerfully. "However, I am required to have a law enforcement presence at events with over two hundred people."

"I am the only one here," Baldwin said with a certain amount of exasperation.

"Unfortunately, it goes by ticket sales, not attendees," I replied with a smirk. "Relax. Have a seat. Showtime starts soon."

As Baldwin sat flanked by the two senior public protection officers of the entire city, he appeared mortified that his wife's defilement was going to be witnessed by the two men who he had known for three decades. I returned to the dancers' dressing room as they were applying the final touches to Jody's hair and make-up.

The MAC artists had done a phenomenal job of accentuating Jody's youthful appearance, even though she was forty years old. They had used a subtle blend of concealer, and soft pastel shades that made her look innocent, despite my lewd intentions for her. Once her hair was neatly arranged into two girly pigtails, one of the MAC girls removed the contents of the bag that constituted Jody's first outfit.

Jody's face dropped as she realized that she would be entering the stage wearing her daughter's Celibacy Club t-shirt. The two women wore a similar size, but Jody's breast augmentation ensured that the light blue garment was very restrictive around her tits, her large implants threatening to rip through the thin material of the top. I had modified the t-shirt also, having the dry-cleaners cut several inches from the base of the garment, so that it more closely resembled a crop-top.

"I had it dry-cleaned," I informed her cheerfully. "When Jessie wore it home it was covered in my semen."

The hairstylist and make-up crew exchanged furtive glances as they processed what they had just heard, and Jody lowered her head with embarrassment. Once she had squeezed into the tight shirt, she picked up the skin-tight, stretch-latex, booty-shorts, looking at them with disgust. Two sizes too small, the tiny shorts were currently popular on college campuses across the United States, as the new generation of co-eds, seeking to share their aspirations to be Instagram models, filmed themselves twerking in the provocative item of clothing.

In my day, girls wore Daisy Dukes, obscenely short denim cut-offs, often distressed or ripped, seeking to emulate the desirable ass and legs of the alluring blonde on "The Dukes of Hazard" television show. These had now been replaced by the tight, stretch latex material, that not only appeared to be painted on, but when worn without underwear, as Jody was about to realize, created a very visible camel-toe.

Of course, because I wanted to further humiliate Jody, I had procured these particular booty-shorts from a sex shop, and the inside of the crotch had a small, latex phallus that was meant to be inserted into the wearer's vagina.

"Pete, no," Jody said, as she started to wriggle into the tiny shorts and noticed the flexible protrusion.

"It will slip right inside you," I said dismissively. "You are totally fucking wet. Do you need one of the ladies to help you?"

Appearing panicked by my offer of assistance, Jody pulled the stretch-shorts up her toned legs, widening her stance slightly as the phallus came into contact with the entrance of her pussy. As it slipped inside her, she grabbed both sides of the pliable latex material, and shoe-horned herself into the tiny garment. The shorts were so tight that they accentuated every curve of her perfect ass, and within a few seconds, as they adjusted to her shape, the clear outline of her labia came into view through the thin material.

"Pete, please," she whispered. "These are obscene."

The make-over women had dropped any pretense of remaining invisible now, and having been witness to numerous celebrity parties, where gorgeous young women cavorted in clothing that was incredibly revealing, began to offer suggestions to Jody of how to "work it."

"You are putting on a private dance show for your husband, I hear," one of them said naively. "Pull the back of the shorts up higher and showcase your assets. You have a fantastic ass. Flaunt it."

As I nodded my consent for the modification, the young make-up artist stepped forward and yanked the rear waistband of the shorts skyward, the way we used to give nerdy kids wedgies in High School. The stretch latex material sunk into the crevice of her buttocks, making the shorts appear even smaller.

"Perfect," the woman said. "You look like a wannabe porn-star."

While this descriptive might be considered a compliment in the hyper-sexualized world of Instagram, it held some negative connotations in my day, and Jody reacted accordingly.

"Can't I wear something a little more modest? she begged. "A little more befitting of a forty year old mom."

"It's perfect for the intended purpose," I said emphatically. "I also have one more surprise for you."

Reaching in to the bag, I emerged with a small remote control. As I pressed the centrally located button, the latex phallus, which was about two inches long and buried inside Jody's tight vaginal cavity, began to vibrate. Jody's eyes widened considerably under the initial assault, but upon realizing that I had selected the maximum speed, I slowed the oscillations down, and a look of pure pleasure appeared on Jody's face.

"Thirty minutes until we go," I said quietly, as Jody began to breathe more rapidly under the sustained stimulation of the vibrator.

I called Red back into the dressing room, and after yielding control of the remote to her, I returned to the control room to make the final preparations. By this time, Red had familiarized herself with Jody's level of sensitivity, and although I didn't witness it, she later assured me that she had kept Jody right on the edge of release for the duration of their stay in the dressing room.

About five minutes before showtime, I dimmed the stage lights and started to play some music that we used on Amateur Night. It was the usual stuff you hear in strip-clubs all over the country, Def Leppard's, "Pour some sugar on me" and "Purple Rain," by Prince. I figured it would be hard to create an atmosphere in the virtually empty club, but the Police Chief and the Fire Marshal were up on their feet, swaying to the music, as Steve Baldwin sat disconsolately between them.

Even though I had seen a highly-choreographed series of rehearsals when Jessie was supposed to be the star of the show, Jody had not been given the luxury of practice, so pretty much the last thing I told her was to wing it, and to follow my lead.

Right at the appointed time, the door to the dancers' dressing room, which I could see from my vantage point in the DJ booth, slowly opened, and Jody Baldwin reluctantly emerged, looking absolutely mortified. Red had to pretty much force her down the dimly lit hallway that led to the rear of the stage, and Jody appeared to be on the brink of changing her mind.

I knew I needed to spur her into action, so I got onto the microphone and announced her presence.

"Gentlemen," I began, addressing the three guys in the audience. "I present for your visual pleasure, the alluring Jody Baldwin, who last graced this stage twenty years ago and who is returning tonight as a sacrificial limb, in order that others may be spared the humiliation."

While the message was cryptic, and didn't mention her daughter by name, it was enough to remind the adoring mother that if she didn't perform her heart out, I was going to out her daughter Jessie as the mystery girl in the "Make Daddy Proud" advertising blitz. Upon hearing my veiled threat, there was a noticeable change in Jody's body language, and having seemingly made the decision to suck it up, she sauntered alluringly onto the main stage.

As I selected her first dance track, Jody swayed playfully to Cyndi Lauper's "Girls just want to have fun," and I increased the tempo of her oscillating phallus. Jody looked extremely youthful, coquettish almost, as she danced seductively, just as she had twenty years prior on this very same stage, as a terrified teenager.

The lighting technician had given me some rudimentary instructions on how to operate the array of colored spotlights and strobes, and as Jody danced with her eyes half-closed, I shone powerful LED lights to illuminate the new marketing posters that adorned the stage.

My advertising team had painted over all of the billboards from the "Make Daddy Proud"campaign that were scattered across Newport Beach, and had included the provocative images of the mystery Debutante. Restricting our new marketing campaign to the interior of the strip-club, the new slogan was "Jody - a lost innocence."

As the title of the event suggested, my plan was to take the wholesome looking, innocent Jody and progressively turn her into my fuck-toy. Jody was responding favorably to the oscillating phallus, her abs visibly tightening under the sustained teasing as she approached her release.

Under the bright stage lights, tiny droplets of sweat were noticeable, forming on her brow and neck as the sexual stimulation began to get the best of her. I kept a close eye on her level of arousal, lowering the speed of the vibrator right as she closed her eyes, and appeared on the brink of orgasm.

As Madonna's "Material Girl" blared over the loudspeakers, Jody began to dance in a more sensual manner, and I noticed the Police Chief adjusting the crotch of his uniform pants, apparently trying to hide his erection. She had closed her eyes now, either to blot out the sight of the city dignitaries for whom she cavorted, or to try and will herself over the edge of release. After four songs, I faded the music out and resumed control of the microphone.