by Argus
And he hadn't forced it.
He let his lips part, now exerting a little more pressure, and his tongue came out, laying across his lower lip a little as her nipple slid across. He felt her body jerk a little, and his hands slid down onto her beautiful ass, squeezing firmly now.
Her breathing was definitely more ragged. He laughed softly, and pulled her chest against his face, but turned his face to one side as if being playful. He was able to hold his ear against her chest for a second, long enough to hear her hammering heart.
His big, work roughened hands moved back up and down her body, then along her ribs. This time when they slid up her front to encircle her breasts, they didn't stop an inch away. He cupped and squeezed her breasts softly, and she gasped aloud.
“Y-You... you can't...”
“Shhh,” he said, letting his hands glide back, his fingers caressing her breasts as they withdrew, as she arched back, his fingers closing together until they closed firmly around those stiff nipples and caught them tightly.
She gasped again, eyes going wide.
“My name is Seamus. And you are an exquisite creature, Victoria,” he purred.
He tightened his fingers and she gasped as he pinched her nipples, as he used them to force her up and forward again. His fingers released her nipples and he took the center of her left breast into his mouth, humming softly as his teeth dug gently into her soft flesh, as his lips closed tight and he began to suck expertly. His tongue swirled, circled, and stroked as she shuddered atop him.
She tried to pull back, but it was a feeble attempt, more done for show than anything else, and his hand on her back kept her against him.
Then hand slid up into that lovely soft hair behind her neck. He drew his hand together to grasp it firmly, then gently forced her head up and back.
“Oh!” she gasped, arching, rising a little off his lap.
He slid his other hand beneath her, two fingers extended straight up, then slowly forced her back down. She felt his unmoving fingers below her, and jerked, but only whimpered and kept going as he tugged on her hair. She was tighter than he'd expected, but even more wet. His fingers slowly pushed through the narrow entrance to her sex and pushed up as her body descended.
“You are a lovely sexual animal,” he said softly.
His grip on her hair forced her up again, then forced her back down. Her mind seemed frozen in indecision, wrapped in coils of crackling sexual heat. He forced her up again, then pulled her down onto three fingers as his thumb came up against her clitoris.
She collapsed against him, burying her face in the nape of his neck, grinding herself against his fingers in helpless arousal, then crying out as the orgasm took her, her cries muffled by his collar, his neck, his body, as she drove herself frantically down onto his fingers and her body trembled and shook against him.
Her felt her pussy spasming around his fingers, and felt his cock pulse and throb hungrily.
She collapsed, gasping, chest heaving. He rubbed his face against her and slid his fingers out, running them across her body.
“You have made me very excited, Victoria,” he said, mouthing her nipples.
He kissed her gently on the lips, then more demandingly. She moaned weakly into his mouth, eyes slitted, but did not resist. And slowly, she began to respond, her eyes to clear. He eased her back, fully in charge now, his hands gripping her sides.
“Stand,” he ordered.
She seemed confused, but stood up.
“Spread your legs.”
She bit her lip uncertainly, but spread those beautiful straight legs.
“Now bend forward at the waist. Keep those legs straight!”
She bent forward, and bent further. He smiled and unzipped his trousers, and saw more uncertainty in her eyes.
Then he drew himself out, and he saw her surprise, her excitement, some anxiety, but appreciation of his manhood. She licked her lips, and he reached up, guiding her lips down onto him. She took him slowly, her lips straining to envelope his thick girth. She moaned around him, sucking, licking the head, then sliding slowly lower and lower as his hands kneaded her breasts.
She was no novice, he was gratified to note. But she was all business, and he would have to teach her a slower way. But then again, this wasn't the place for long, slow buildups.
She sucked deeper, and he hardly had to apply much pressure to his head for her to sink all the way down. He groaned in delight as she took him up into her throat.
She slid slowly upward, gulping in air, and he gently reached up for her slender wrists, taking them firmly into his hands and then pushing them up and back behind her. He crossed them behind her back.
“Keep them there,” he ordered, drawing his hands back.
She obeyed. Her lips descended, taking him deep into her throat, and he placed his hands on her head to hold her in place. She trembled, but held, keeping her wrists together, her lips wrapped around the base of his cock. He waited, knowing the tension she must now be feeling, then released her.
She was perfect. And he knew he had to have her.
All he had to do was have her checked out more carefully. It would not do to make a mistake at this point in time. It could ruin everything.
* * *
Smith stopped by the next day. Hannah's face flamed the moment she saw him, and her eyes dropped. He pushed past her and into her small apartment without asking permission, and she had no choice but to turn around and eye him nervously.
“I brought a few things for you,” he said.
“O'Neil was at the club yesterday,” she said, face red.
“I know. We were watching.”
“How did he know – .”
“Someone we know invited someone he knew, then went to the bathroom during your performance so the man would have nothing to do but look at you. He realized, as we'd hoped, that you were exactly what O'Neil liked, and invited him over. We're very pleased.”
He showed her a lipstick, and popped off the top.
“Twist this to the left, and you take a picture through the small, pinhole camera in the bottom.”
“You're kidding?”
“Your think only James Bond gets stuff like this?”
“What if they find it!?”
“No reason for them to. No reason to suspect you.”
“But you said their electronic – .”
“This doesn't give off any signal unless you want it to. You take pictures, and when you're done, you twist this, and press here, and it will do a quick burst transmission. They don't sweep constantly, only once or twice a day.”
There was also a small compact which could record ninety minutes of conversation, and then transmit it in one, and a jar of cream which held a video camera.
“If they discover any of this they'll cut my throat!”
“We've done interviews. They check your past thoroughly, but once that's done they don't really search you when you arrive. Send us a signal once a day if possible.”
“What if I don't know anything.”
“Send us a one second signal anyway so we know you're okay.”
“My well-being is so important to you, I'm sure,” she said sarcastically.
“It's not unimportant,” he said mildly.
She glared at him. “So now what?”
“Keep on dancing. Wait for him to contact you. He'll want to check you out further, first.”
“What does that mean?”
“He'll contact people to find out more about you, make sure you're what he's been told you are. The wonderful thing is that he's been told the absolute truth, so everything will check out perfectly.”
“And then?”
“Then you'll get a visit, and you'll accept an invitation.”
“He's going to invite me to be a sex slave?” she asked, sneering.
“Hardly. An invitation to dinner, most likely. Then something after, and then an invitation to sail on h
is yacht perhaps, or fly to one of his islands. Just play along, do what you're told, and in a month and a half or so you can go home and forget it all.”
“Easy for you to say!”
“True enough. But in all likelihood, Ms. Foster, all you'll have to do is let him have sex with you and maybe engage in some bondage and sex games. That's hardly a challenge... for you.”
Hannah's eyes narrowed. “For me?” she asked coldly.
“I meant no disrespect, of course,” he said insincerely.
Asshole, she thought. Of course a lot of gay men didn't think much of women, and after her display of sluttish weakness during his previous business a part of her could understand his lack of respect now. She still resented it, though, even she both understood and partly agreed with him.
And she hadn't even told him the entirety of what had happened in the club! She had no intention of letting him know that she'd basically been so aroused O'Neil had been able to quickly masturbate her to climax.
Part of it was his fault, she thought angrily, and the state of sexual frustration in which he'd left her. But part was the ongoing arousal and dark thrill she felt when stripping. Then, finding herself with O'Neil, who was an incredibly attractive man – his picture just didn't do him justice – and her naked with him... alone... she hadn't known what to do. She had known she shouldn't resist him, and so hadn't.
What would being alone with him for three months be like!?
Her throat was still kind of sore from the thickness of his cock. She had prided herself in the pat at being able to deep throat, at having so little gag reflex, but she'd never had anything that big inside her! The thought of that cock inside her made her pussy throb and tightened her chest. But again, she had no intention of telling any of that to Smith. She was loath to admit it to herself!
Men! They were all bastards, she decided, and kept that attitude tightly held to shield her from anything more.
Tension gnawed at her over the following days. What if O'Neil showed up!? What would she do? What if he didn't show up!? What then!? The very idea of letting herself be carted off to Ireland to be some drug lord's sex slave was ludicrous! And a spy? She wasn't a spy! She wasn't trained as a spy!
What if they found out? What would happen to her? What would happen to her family?!
She was not getting much sleep, and starting to get frazzled. Everything was so fucking complicated! Her mind was constantly spinning, trying to work out what-ifs, and how she would react to them. She was constantly trying to think of some other way to make money, some way to avoid the potential fate of being selected – or not selected – as this man's sex toy.
She just wished she could stop it all; stop all the thinking, all the worrying, all the stress, and just step aside off the world for a while and relax on an empty beach. That wasn't possible, however. She had responsibilities, big ones. Even if they were mostly self-imposed.
Chapter Four
There were two ways to buy a lap dance. One was a private booth, which was twenty dollars a song. The second, at half the price, was the more open 'Champagne Room', which was a small, round, dimly lit room encircled by cushioned seating. Hannah rarely went into the Champagne Room, and was surprised to find herself sent there now.
“But – .”
“Rich customer,” said Jerry the floor manager. “Hundred per, and he's taken the whole room.”
That meant the man would pay her $100 per song (split with the club of course) and had reserved the entire room for just them. That was going to make the other girls highly pissed at her, but the club didn't care. To them it was the equivalent of ten girls dancing in there, a lot more than would normally fit.
When she slid through the curtain, though, she was surprised. The room was not empty. There were six men in it, all in suits and ties, all looking at her.
“I'm sorry, I was told – .”
One of the men snapped his fingers, and pointed at the center of the floor.
Hannah started to glower then felt a shock roll through her as she recognized O'Neil. She moved forward slowly, heart thumping until she was standing in the middle of them.
“Dance,” he said, laying a hundred dollar bill down.
Hannah's mind churned for a long moment, but then she began to dance in time to the music filling the club. It felt – strange – to be dancing like this, here, in the small room. She danced for many more outside, of course, but she was alone there, on stage. This room was so small and almost claustrophobic. There was barely room for her hands, sliding up through her hair and then up above her, before her fingertips brushed the low ceiling overhead.
It felt very weird! They were all looking at her, silently, as her hips rolled and her hands caressed her body. She felt far and away more tension than she had out front, and the intimacy of the dance made her feel overwhelmed by the big men surrounding her. Still, she had little choice but to dance, and to strip, and so she did, sliding her top off, letting her skirt slither down her legs.
She wore no bra for such dances, and now, after twisting and turning and grinding her hips, she let her thong slip off to dance naked before them. She would normally be climbing into someone's lap but didn't know whose, and O'Neil, if that was him, and she was fairly sure it was, hadn't given her any clue.
“Stop,” he said.
She faltered uncertainly.
“Stand straight, your legs apart. Put your arms up and apart and arch your back.”
She didn't normally take requests, but she hesitantly obeyed, feeling the blood rush through her as she stood there before him and his eyes flicked over her body.
“Sit on his lap, and dance,” O'Neil said, pointing at the man behind her.
Swallowing, she slid back, straddling the grinning young man behind her, sliding her buttocks down against his lap and starting to dance. She rolled her hips and arched her back, letting her hair slid across his cheek, her hands sliding behind her, along his thighs and up his hips.
She was facing O'Neil as she ground herself against the man, watching his eyes watching her, and felt a growing sense of anxiety as he looked on, as they all looked on.
It was usually her and her client, and she found it fairly easy to relate to them, to tease them, but this was entirely different. Still, she could feel the man's growing erection under her, and it hardened considerably more when his arms slid around her, his hands on her waist, caressing her soft skin.
Technically, men weren't supposed to touch the dancers. In practice, as long as their hands stayed away from their 'naughty parts' it was accepted. And, in fact, a well-paying customer, one who'd had her for multiple songs, could usually get away with more, with caressing her bottom and sometimes even her breasts – briefly.
This, of course, was not normal times, and her heart was thumping, her body fairly vibrating with tension, sexual and otherwise, as she rolled her body and ground her hips and felt the man's cock hardening underneath her.
“Move over to him,” O'Neil ordered, “And face him.”
He laid another hundred down, and Hannah obeyed, feeling a sense of dread, and a wild wish she was back on her ship. This was by far the most bizarre dance she'd ever given, and it was awfully daunting!
She swung around and climbed onto the other man's lap. He was a virtual twin of the one she'd just been rubbing against, save that his shoulders were even wider. He was shaven, both face and head, and his eyes were dark as they examined her breasts.
Her hands slid over his shoulders and she felt a sense of appreciation for the strength and hardness there as she rolled and ground her hips against him. His arms slid around her, caressing her back as she arched and undulated and rolled her shoulders. Her hands slid onto his head as his slid down to cup her buttocks, and a little shockwave seemed to roll through her body, peaking in her groin.
She felt this man getting hard underneath her too as she brushed her nipples just past his face and ground her buttocks down against his ris
ing cock. Her breathing was becoming heavier now, and she was deeply aware of the other man watching her as she ground herself down.
“Next.”
She moved over, giving each man a lap dance, circling the little room. They started getting freer with their hands as she moved about, and she was becoming more anxious, while feeling a growing sense of helplessness. She could not scream for the bouncers, even if she wanted to, for that might end her chance of O'Neil doing what she needed him to do to save her house.
And even if she did scream, these men were probably all his bodyguards. There were only three bouncers, and one of her caressing hands had already found a shoulder holster on one of the men. He had gripped her wrist, given her a hard look, and then bent her wrist back, pressing her had against her own breast.
She tried to ease back as the man she was grinding against licked at her nipples, but one of his hands slid up her back and pulled her closer. She felt another hand on her bottom, then two hands, which meant the men on either side were caressing and groping her. This would again normally be against the rules, for only the man who paid got to enjoy the girl... yet in a way they had all paid... so she wasn't sure what the rules even were!
She felt another hand on her left thigh, then another on her right, even as the man she was 'dancing' on, pulled her breasts to his face, and began to suck and lick and then chew on her right nipple. She pulled back, gasping, but was pulled into another man's lap, sitting back on it.
“Dance,” O'Neil ordered, dropping another hundred dollar bill.
Staring, eyes round, she tried to refocus, to get back into the rhythm of the song, and rolled her hips, her bottom grinding down against the man's lap. She gasped as she felt his fingers slide through her hair and pull back. She arched back over his shoulder, her bottom still wriggling and grinding as he bent in and licked lightly along the nape of her neck.