Undercover Slave Girl

by Argus

  That brought applause as well as some comments she preferred not to hear. Now in tight black t-shirt and thong, she slid her fingers through her hair, arching her back, propped against the pole as she spread her legs somewhat and ground her hips.

  She turned, rolling her bottom again, now only clad in the thong, and rolled her head as well.

  She was losing her stiffness, losing her fear. She was embarrassed and anxious, her heart pounding, but she was starting to feel the thrill of knowing it was working. They were watching her, a lot more of them than had watched Gwen or Maria or Tammy before her!

  She jumped up, caught the pole, and yanked her body up high, then gripped it with her thighs and fell backwards, hanging upside down. The t-shirt slid down, of course, just covering her chest now, baring the rest of her body. She slid down, rolled, and peeled the T-shirt up and off.

  The tiny cups of her black bra were triangles across her breasts, pulling tight. She licked her lips as she slid her fingers across them, her embarrassment mounting. She felt a growing sense of shock at herself as she pranced about now in nothing but her underwear. It was, in a sense, both a fearful shop (what if someone found out!?) and the same sort of naughty excitement she'd felt before on the beach.

  One of the final moments of truth came, and she popped her bra and bared her breasts. She felt a shock of heat and embarrassment, covering it by arching and rolling her hips, sliding her hands up and down her body. She flinched as her fingers slid across her nipples, for they were rigidly erect.

  She slid around the pole again, then turned, pressing her body against it. Her fingers slid down it and then in across her hips, nimbly unsnapping the strings. The thong broke away and she was naked. Naked! She was on a stage naked, with scores of men staring at her!

  She almost froze, but discipline took hold, and she kept her face looking coy and even a little shocked at herself, hiding her pussy behind the bar as she slowly moved in circles.

  Then it was out onto the stage, sliding, dropping to her hands and knees, crawling cat-like across the stage. There was no more hiding. She laid it all out, flushed with embarrassment and also that same wicked sense of sexual arousal she felt on the beach – only greatly enhanced.

  Bloody hell, she thought. Am I a bloody exhibitionist?

  It was a popular act, and no sooner had she dressed than the floor manager brought her the requests for lap dances. Lots of them.

  Another challenge awaited. But this was where the real money was made, so she fortified herself with another drink, then went for it.

  * * *

  Ferguson moved slowly as his eyes adjusted to the semi darkness in the club. The noise was loud and unpleasant, particularly the pounding beat of the music. He made his way to the bar and ordered a Scotch, and watched the dancer on stage. He had very good eyes, but even so, the lights were designed to hide flaws, and were a strange mixture of purple and orange as the girl twirled around the pole.

  He checked his watch, then waded through the tables to take his place at the narrow rail before the stage. The girl on it was typical enough for these places, he thought. Large artificial breasts, bleach blonde hair, a plastic face, tattoos on several parts of her body, particularly the small of the back, where she had a large pair of wings, and a somewhat robotic performance as she moved from one phase to the other before clutching her clothes and walking off.

  The music changed, though not dramatically. Another similar pounding rock beat came on as a new girl came out. He sipped his Scotch and set it down to watch. This one was quite different to his expert eye. Her breasts were smaller but natural, and very firm as she moved. In fact, 'firm' was a very good description of the young woman on stage. She moved with a certain grace and ease which showed a strong degree of athleticism.

  Her legs were lithe and her body slender. Her hips were rounded, and she had a great ass. Everything about her screamed that her body was extremely fit. He noted how easily she moved, like a dancer, in fact. She could move from toe to toe, fling herself at the pole, and swing around to tumble down like a gymnast.

  He noted the play of muscles under her arms when she held herself up, the strength of her legs, and that, even when she was on all fours, crawling cat-like across the stage, her belly was absolutely firm.

  Her eyes seemed a little larger than they should be, and were, he knew, green. She had a well-sculpted face with high cheekbones and full, soft lips. She practically flew up the pole, her strong arms yanking her higher, then she drew her lower body up, clasping strong thighs around the pole as she let her upper body fall upside down. She didn't even need to grab the pole with her hands, leaving them free to caress her breasts suggestively as she slid slowly down to the floor.

  She crawled on her belly a little, then pushed herself up with her arms, arching her back. Her legs went wide, and she slid up to her feet, spun and put herself against the pole, grinding herself against it as she slid around and then down once more.

  He got up and went to the back, asking for a dance with her, then went into one of the champagne rooms. Room was a bit of an exaggeration. It was more of a booth, with curtains for privacy. He put a twenty on the table and waited for her.

  * * *

  There were six requests for lap dances waiting for her when Hannah got offstage. Some of the other girls were getting annoyed, but she didn't care. She needed the money, and if she was showing them up by actually putting effort into her performances, so be it. Maybe they should stop looking bored on stage, stop just going through the motions, if they wanted more money. But they were generally a lazy bunch, half of them on drugs or alcoholics.

  Her little performance hadn't tired her much, so she didn't even have to stop to shower. She put on her lingerie and a little robe and hurried to the champagne rooms; focused on her job. Each lap dance earned her twenty American dollars in this club – far better than the ten in the last place she'd worked. If she could keep the man interested for a little longer, which she usually did easily enough, she'd get forty or sixty or even more in a very brief period of time. And on some evenings, she pulled in more than a thousand dollars.

  The man in the first booth was a bit of a surprise. He was about thirty, sober, attractive, and extremely fit, she judged as she smiled her best smile. He wore a well-fitted, reasonably expensive suit, and was clean shaven and looked quite intelligent.

  “Hi, luv,” she said, making her voice soft and seductive. “What's your name?”

  She was the charming coquette now, smiling as if she meant it, trying to establish a rapport with him.

  “Smith,” he said.

  “How do you do, Mr. Smith,” she said, starting to roll her hips as the music played. “My name is Victoria. And I love to dance.”

  She let her voice become sultry and breathy as she began to more in time to the music. She had quickly realized that her accent drew additional interest, and played it up wherever she could. She wasn't sure if it was the oddity of it here in New Jersey, or the thought of male satisfaction that a 'snobby' British type was at their beck and call. It didn't really matter in the end. As long as it made her more popular and she earned more money.

  She moved her hips and let her head roll, her hands sliding up and down her body. With a casual brush of her fingertips her robe slid back over her shoulders and fell to the floor. Then, in thong and bra, she slid in closer.

  She arched her back, and then dropped her head forward, letting the bangs half hide her eyes. She turned in place, showing off her butt, bending slowly forward, knees absolutely straight. She straightened again, straddling him and sliding forward, hands caressing her body. Her buttocks were moving in closer now as she undid her bra and slowly slipped it off.

  His eyes went to her breasts and he gave them an appreciative look, but it was... odd. There was no lust in his eyes. And while his eyes moved constantly, there was a kind of studying to them, an assessment. It was as if he was approving of her body, but not particularly wantin

g anything to do with it.

  She slid further forward letting her nipples brush his skin very delicately. They were fully erect, as they always were here. This was just a job, and she had taken it with hard-headed, steely minded determination to make as much money as she could as fast as she could. She did not like the job, and did not want it. But it was necessary.

  Nevertheless, she had always had an extraordinarily high sex drive. Undressing, stripping, dancing naked in front of a room full of men, turned her on. Admittedly it had been intimidating at first, though she was not a woman to be intimidated. But she'd gotten used to it now. She wasn't crushed with embarrassment any more, but she still got turned on.

  And when she was alone with a man, and taking her clothes off, she got even more turned on. Sometimes she had to stop herself from going too far, because if she were caught it would mean she'd be fired, and perhaps blackballed. Managers didn't want the strippers having sex with the clients for fear it would cost them their licenses.

  Hannah usually had more than enough self-control, though, especially since the guys rarely turned her on by themselves. Most were older and out of shape. The few younger ones were usually drunk and stupid. None had been quite like this man who calmly assessed her performance.

  She slid back, stood, turning and twisting. Money was money, after all. She stripped off her thong, and his eyes, like that of all men, went to her sex, which was of course, smoothly lasered. She wouldn't get her boobs done to make more, but she could get her hair removed easily enough.

  Again he looked, not aroused but simply approving. He was weird, she thought.

  And grinding herself into him did not detect any signs of arousal on his part either.

  “You're very good at this,” he said, as the dance ended.

  “I'm glad you enjoyed it, luv,” she said brightly

  “I wouldn't say I exactly enjoyed it, but you are what was described to me, Sub-Lieutenant Foster.”

  She froze, jaw dropping. She started to pull back but he reached out, gripping her arms to hold her there on his lap.

  “Let me go or I'll – .”

  “I'm not at threat to you, Miss Foster. Quite the contrary. I know you need a lot of money to save your family's house. I can provide that money. All of it, within just a few months. I have a proposal which will pay you a half million dollars, which should be ample to hold you over for a year or so, until that investment in Monaco comes through.”

  Hannah stared at him in shock. “How do you know – ?!”

  “I know quite a bit about you, Miss Foster. I know your father lost the family fortune during the last banking mess and then killed himself. I know your family has owned that estate for eight hundred years. And I know you were released from the Royal Navy on compassionate grounds.”

  Hannah stared at him in disbelief.

  “You graduated and served two years of your three year term as a signals officer. You had given every intention you were going to re-enlist. You flew here and went to work as an exotic dancer at Roxies, a low rent bar on the east side. You graduated from that to this place, making considerably more money. But you're not going to make enough to pay the bills on your mother's house before it's seized, and you must by now know that.”

  “Who the fuck are you?!” she demanded, again trying to pull back.

  “I'm your savior,” he said with a faint smile. “I have a half million dollars to pay you, and all I need is about 90 days of your time.”

  “And for doing what?” she demanded, glaring.

  “Nothing illegal,” he said. “And does anything else really matter? From what I've read of you you're a very determined woman and not particularly dainty or delicate. If I told you you had to fuck my brains out every morning for the next month and a half you'd be pleased to do it to save your mother's home. And I think we both know that.”

  He let her go and handed her a card. It was empty save for a phone number.

  “Call me tomorrow morning. Then come see me. We can chat about how to take care of your monetary problems.”

  Chapter Two

  It was hard for Hannah to concentrate for the rest of her shift. She kept thinking about the man, and who he could possibly be. How did he know so much about her? And what the hell was he offering? Money for sex? He didn't have to pay half a million dollars for sex, not that one. Nor did it look like he had a lot of sexual interest in her.

  He was right about one thing; She'd fuck half of New Jersey to get the money in time. She was making very good money as a stripper, more than a little pleased with herself about it, too. But it wasn't going to be enough, not fast enough. The taxes and bills for the estate were too high, and she was rapidly running out of time.

  She was sure, given he'd shown and watched her strip, that whatever she was to do involved sex. She couldn't think of any other particular talent she had, other than dancing. But that was fine with her. As long as she got paid. It wasn't that she wasn't concerned, of course. Hannah had always been … enthusiastic... about sex, perhaps uncomfortably so, in fact. Sometimes she was disconcerted about her responses. But that didn't mean she wanted to be a whore.

  She would do it, though, because it needed doing. And she had always had a certain dogged perseverance in getting done what had to be done, however unpleasant it might be.

  Anyway, she'd never really understood why getting paid to do something she loved doing should be considered so horrible. If it weren't for fear of disease and arrest she'd have become a call girl instead of a stripper. But while the pay was better, it wasn't that much better. She knew men liked her. They always had. She had known that her dancing would be popular. And while she tried not to be vain she knew she had an excellent body.

  She exercised religiously, and had even before the navy. She'd taken up karate the last couple of years, and the workouts and exercises were rigorous and gave her the kind of hard-body she knew would let her handle just about anything in the navy.

  She had been disappointed at having to quit, but it was either that or let those bastards at the local council throw her mother out into the cold.

  But half a million was a lot of money for 90 days. Surely it wasn't just sex. That was simply too easy.

  She had a hard time sleeping that night, and in the morning, after her exercises and shower, and not without some reluctance, called the number on the card. He answered on the second ring, and was curt. Telling her to meet him in the lobby of the Harbor Hotel.

  She was suspicious, but agreed. The Harbor was one of the city's finer and more expensive hotels. He wouldn't likely choose it to do something violent.

  The lobby was small, but elegant, with marbled floors and an antique chandelier near the reception desk. There were paintings of early American life on the walls as she walked past, and then saw him getting from his seat. He nodded to her, and gestured her to follow him. Frowning, she did, rounding the corner into a long, wide corridor with a blue rug and groupings of furniture.

  “How well are you at taking orders?” he asked.

  “The navy seemed to feel I was acceptable,” she said.

  “The proposal I'm going to lay out for you is not without danger,” he said. “But the danger is dependent upon how well you follow directions, even when you don't like the person giving you the direction, and how well you can mask your disapproval.”

  “I've had idiots in charge before,” she said.

  “I've been told you're an excellent actress, and that you're very good at keeping your emotions in check,” he said. “That one can't easily tell if you're angry or disgusted, since you hide your emotions so well.”

  “Who told you that?”

  He pressed a button for the elevator, and didn't answer.

  Once inside he pressed the button for the tenth floor, and remained silent.

  They arrived on ten, and she followed him up the corridor to a door, which he unlocked and entered. Hannah hesitated, then followed him inside.