Sydney slowly beginning to rock and forth on his lap.
Sydney licking her lips as she fondled herself.
Sydney’s butt gyrating in his face as she bent over at the waist.
Sydney’s bikini patches being peeled aside.
Sydney’s perfect round nipples.
Sydney’s tits wrapped around his face.
The song ended. Hell, the world could’ve ended and DJ wouldn’t have noticed.
Sydney smiled and stood up off his lap, tugging her bikini back into place. “So, how was your first time? Worth the wait?” He just stared, mesmerized, and she rolled her eyes and smiled with undisguised arrogance. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She turned her back to walk away, and in an instant, he remembered his experiment. “Sydney wait!”
Sydney stopped and turned, her expression suddenly wary. “How do you know my name?”
“I told you, we had a class. European history? We were partners on a project.”
The girl considered, and seemed to come up empty. “I’ll take your word for it. Anyway, we’re not supposed to do two in a row with the same customer, sweetie. I gotta keep moving.”
DJ took a deep breath, grateful for the alcohol for helping calm his nerves, if barely. Do or die time. In the next few moments, he’d either be having the time of his life, or a three-hundred pound bouncer would be kicking his ass behind the building. He stood up, stepped forward, and grabbed one of Sydney’s boobs in each hand.
He flinched, expecting to be slapped. To hear her call for help. To get kicked in the balls.
But nothing happened. He opened his eyes, and there was Sydney, standing there giving him a look of irritation, but doing nothing to stop him. He looked over to where the bouncer was standing, and clearly he was in full view of the man, and clearly, he’d elected to do nothing about it.
DJ dropped his hands, looking at them as if never having realized their power.
“You all done?” Sydney’s voice reeked of sarcasm.
“Not even close.” He stepped closer and cupped her ass in both hands, pulling her tight against him. She looked surprised, and still a bit feisty, but she didn’t resist as he sat back down and pulled her back onto his lap.
“Now let me tell you a few things, ‘Diva.’ For the rest of the night, you’re my personal stripper, got it? Whether you remember or not, I blew a whole weekend doing your work for you, so it’s only fair you spend a whole night doing for me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I suppose.”
“So for starters, let’s see you strip. This time, not just a lap dance. You have until the end of this song to be completely naked.”
She frowned. “We’re not allowed to take our bottoms off. It’s against state law.”
DJ smacked her ass and she squeaked in surprise. “I don’t care. Let’s get to work.” Nearby, a bouncer yawned, and leaned back against the wall.
Sydney, mouth working in indignant anger, began to writhe in time to the music and moments later released her tits from beneath the bikini. She slipped back into her flirty stripper persona as she did. “C’mon, we were having fun, right sweetie? You like Diva’s big titties don’t you? ’Cause they sure like you.” She pulled DJ’s face down into the canyon of her cleavage, rubbing her tits up and down against his cheeks.
DJ waited until she released him, smirking at her certainty that she could fake her way through this. “I love them. But I said naked. That means off, not just to show me your boobs.”
Sydney’s stripper smile faltered just a moment, and then she reached behind her to undo the clasp and coyly let it slide off of her. DJ wasted no time in pressing his mouth to her tits. Her nipples hardened momentarily as he groped and sucked her bare breasts, and Sydney moaned—fake, he suspected, but convincing.
He came up for air a couple minutes later, and Sydney was actually flushed. It was one thing to give guys a little thrill, but another to just be man-handled like a lover—no, like a slut. A piece of meat. But DJ had no intention of letting her off this easy. “Sydney, I’d swear I told you to be naked before the song was over. And look, the song’s over, and you still have your underwear on.”
“You were sucking on my tits! How was I supposed to get naked while getting my tits sucked?” She folded her arms beneath her tits defiantly; they glistened even in the poor light with DJ’s saliva.
“Not my problem. But I tell you what. Let’s go up on stage.” DJ was keen on seeing how far he could push this. Sydney, with a little nudging—which is to say, he hooked a finger in the front of her g-string and tugged her there like a puppy being leash-trained—followed him onto the stage. Another dancer was already up there, but DJ just set down his chair near the end of the runway and told her to get lost. Looking a little miffed, she shrugged and left. Sydney meanwhile stood there, seeming unsure of what to do. A dozen or so guys sitting around the stage looked on with interest. And still, none of the staff did anything to disrupt it. The DJ killed the music, and it was suddenly nice and quiet. A couple girls looked over curiously, though if anything, they looked impatient for the music to resume so they could get back to their dances.
“All right, fellas, let’s give it up for Diva!” The guys clapped half-heartedly. “And let’s hear it for her tits!” DJ grabbed one and jiggled it around a bit. Sydney gave him an incredulous look, then smiled at the guys as they clapped again, louder this time.
DJ put a hand on Sydney’s shoulder and spun her around in place, showing all her assets to the crowd. He pushed down on her shoulder, and after offering token resistance, she bent at the waist, her mostly naked ass exposed to the whole crowd. “Now announcing a special deal tonight only at Scuttlebutt’s—we’re auctioning off the lovely Diva’s g-string! High bidder gets to come on up and remove it himself!”
The crowd hooted and hollered excitedly as Sydney sighed in frustration. Bids began coming immediately, starting with an insulting $10 (it was a small town strip club, after all), but soon building up to a not unimpressive $250. Through it all, the improvised auctioneer kept Sydney bent over, fondling and spreading her ass cheeks, spanking her lightly, to up the appeal of the prize.
DJ gave a hand up to the winner, a guy old enough to be Sydney’s grandpa and hefty enough that his leg was as big around as her waist. “Take your time, sir, enjoy it.” The man did, painstakingly dragging the skimpy straps over the helpless stripper’s hips, kneeling down behind her with his face just inches from her now-exposed cunt, close enough he was sure she could feel his booze-scented breath on her pussy lips. Meanwhile, DJ tucked the cash in his pocket.
Patting her ass appreciatively, he finally lifted her back into a standing position; she stretched to loosen the knot her bent-over posture had built in her lower back, but it came across just looking like she was thrusting her tits out, preening at the attention. She tried to force a smile at her admirers, keeping her hands from covering her narrow landing strip of pubic hair only with effort.
For the next hour, DJ invented new auctions, each time pressing her limits further, each time finding she grudgingly put up with it. She averaged around $75 for each of three body shots, letting the high bidders lick the salt off her nipples. (The third one seemed reluctant to lick where one of the previous two winners just had, but with a little encouragement from DJ, she asked so sweetly that he didn’t care about a little spit.) She brought in $350 to bend over a man’s lap and let him spank her ten times. Finally, DJ set a price of $25 to come up and sign her body, then all the contributers—fifteen total, which was every guy in the joint—got to take a group photo with her. (DJ let each man use his own camera in turn, with Sydney cycling through different poses after each flash.) He then turned her loose to resume lap dances, collecting her money for her (since she had nowhere left to put it) and upping the rate to $100 apiece. The men, charged by the unique opportunity to take liberties with the hottest dancer in the club, were only too happy to part with the money. They fondled, pinched and smacked her as they pleased, though a mild admonition from DJ kept them from slipping their fingers inside her.