The Reluctant Stripper

by Lady Alice McCloud

  ‘Ah, Fleurette,’ Monsieur Brochon declared. ‘There you are. We are taking Chastity upstairs for a while, just to see if she lives up to her name, which I suspect she does not.’

  He favoured Thrift with an oily wink as he spoke.

  ‘Enjoy yourselves,’ M’selle Laroche responded, ‘and I shall have refreshments ordered to my box for when you are done.’

  ‘Splendid,’ Monsieur Brochon answered, ‘and after all, we wouldn’t want to miss the rest of the show.’

  ‘The rest of the show?’ Thrift queried.

  ‘Certainly,’ M’selle Laroche said in surprise. ‘This is the interval, my dear. As I was saying, gentlemen, this is her first night.’

  ‘Then we shall make it one for her to remember!’ Monsieur Brochon declared. ‘You, girl, a bottle of Champagne to the director’s suite, and be quick about it.’

  The girl he had spoken to was Georgette, who was nearby with her back turned to them, sipping at a glass of Champagne. When she failed to respond Monsieur Brochon followed up his order with a stinging slap to her rump, laughed when she spilt her drink down the front of the pretty blue corset that was her only garment beside stockings and tiny, bright blue pantalettes, then repeated the order. Georgette smiled, apologised, bobbed a curtsey and shot Thrift a brief but very meaningful glance before hurrying away.

  ‘Off we go!’ Monsieur Brochon said happily and Thrift found herself led away.

  She was taken upstairs by the main staircase, to a large, well appointed set of rooms on the second floor, directly above the entrance and looking out over the Rue des Branleuses. The men seemed in no great hurry, settling themselves into armchairs and sipping their drinks as Thrift stood awkwardly to one side, awaiting instructions. A small cedar wood box stood on the table beside Monsieur Brochon and he opened it, revealing a double row of fat, brown cigars.

  ‘Ah ha, Habanas! Just the thing,’ he said. ‘Tell me, Chastity, can you do the cigar trick?’

  ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean,’ Thrift admitted.

  ‘You must know it, surely?’ he answered her. ‘But being English, perhaps not. You smoke a cigar in your cunt. Ah, but here’s little Georgette, she’ll show you how it’s done.’

  Georgette had arrived, an ice bucket and glasses in her hands, bumping the door open with her bottom. She’d heard what had been said and quickly put the ice bucket down, curtsied to the two men and made to leave.

  ‘I must attend to our guests,’ she said.

  ‘Nonsense!’ Monsieur Brochon boomed. ‘It will only take a moment, so come along, down on all fours with you and let’s have those pretty pantalettes apart.’

  Georgette gave Thrift yet another filthy look but did as she was told, getting down on the floor in a crawling position and sticking up her bottom towards the two men. Even when she was standing the frilly slit at the back of her pantalettes had hinted at the soft pink curves within, but in her new position it was fully open, showing off the crease of her bottom in every detail, with the pouted rear lips of her cunt on full display and the tight, brown star of her anus winking between her cheeks. Monsieur Brochon gave an approving nod at the sight before selecting a cigar from the box, only to stop at a word from Monsieur Corgoloin.

  ‘The Champagne, Gustave.’

  ‘Naturally,’ Monsieur Brochon replied. ‘Chastity, if you would be so kind as to serve. Don’t worry, Georgette can wait.’

  Thrift hastened to serve the Champagne, fumbling at the wire cage and struggling with the cork, all the while with Georgette still in place, her pert bottom stuck high and spread to the room with every rude detail on display. When the cork did finally give way a gout of wine erupted from the bottle, splashing Georgette’s hair and wetting the carpet. Thrift was mumbling apologies as she poured but Monsieur Brochon waved them aside as he began to explain the trick.

  ‘The art is to draw the smoke in up your cunt, but it does need to be well lit. Now watch.’

  With slow, methodical motions he clipped and lit the cigar, drawing deep to set the tip glowing red hot and puffing out a smoke ring before turning his attention to Georgette. She was already wet, and the base of the cigar slid in easily up her cunt, but the expression on her face suggested that however aroused she might be physically, this was not the way she had intended to spend her evening. Nevertheless, she did as she had been told, contracting the muscles of her cunt to suck in smoke before reaching back to extract the fat, brown cylinder. Again she squeezed her cunt, to emit a perfect ring of thick, grey smoke accompanied by a soft farting noise as her hole closed.

  ‘Excellent!’ Monsieur Brochon declared, clapping his hand. ‘Now you try it, Chastity. Georgette will help.’

  Thrift got slowly to her knees, numb with embarrassment for what she was about being made to do. Positioning herself in the same rude crawling stance Georgette had adopted, she reached back to flip her dress and petticoats onto her back, then to part her drawers and put her bottom on display.

  ‘Stick it up,’ Georgette ordered. ‘I need to get at your cunt.’

  Closing her eyes in a vain effort to fight down her shame, Thrift obeyed, putting her face to the carpet and tucking her back in to make her bottom lift and spread. Her cheeks came open, showing off her quim and anus to her audience. She felt Georgette’s hand on her flesh, spreading the mouth of her cunt, then the cigar, firm and warm as it was eased in up her ready hole.

  ‘Now squeeze,’ Georgette instructed.

  Thrift did her best, tightening the muscles of her sex, once, and then again as the cigar was pulled free. Like Georgette, the air in her hole came out with a soft, wet farting noise, adding to her shame and misery, although she had no idea if she had successful blown smoke out or not.

  ‘Not bad,’ Monsieur Brochon chuckled, ‘for a beginner. Once more, girls, and then I think you had both better attend to our cocks. The show starts again in a minute and it would not do to disappoint Fleurette.’

  Thrift was made to go through the humiliating little routine a second time, and when she turned around it was to find Monsieur Brochon with his cock already out of his trousers. Monsieur Corgoloin was in the act of unzipping himself, while Georgette stood to one side, looking sulky and hesitant.

  ‘I should really be...’ she began.

  ‘Nonsense!’ Monsieur Brochon interrupted. ‘What’s the matter with you tonight, Georgette? You’re usually one of the gayest little trollops I know.’

  ‘I... I’d prefer not to do it in front of her,’ Georgette responded, jerking a thumb towards Thrift. ‘I am senior girl, and...’

  ‘Oh what magnificent conceit!’ Monsieur Brochon laughed. ‘Oh what airs you girls do give yourselves, eh Albert! Now come along, down you go, unless you’d prefer those saucy little pantalettes pulled down and you tail smacked first?’

  His voice had hardened as he threatened the spanking and Georgette was down on her knees in an instant, to crawl quickly across and flop his cock into her mouth. As she began to suck her eyes gave Thrift one last, furious glance, then closed. Monsieur Corgoloin beckoned to Thrift and indicated his own cock, where it lay semi-flaccid on his taut, wrinkly scrotum. Like Georgette, Thrift crawled across and took him in her mouth.

  ‘Now that,’ Monsieur Brochon announced as he retrieved his cigar, ‘is a wonderful sight, two fine young tarts in nothing but their underwear, down on their knees with cocks in their mouths, just as it should be. Hmm, that’s rather good you know, the cigar. Cunt imparts a certain something to the flavour.’

  He continued to puff away as his cock grew in Georgette’s mouth. Her eyes were still closed but the expression on her face suggested that she was sucking on a lemon, and a mouldy one at that. Thrift could not help but feel sympathy, with resentment for her own humiliating situation boiling in her head as Monsieur Corgoloin’s cock began to swell and stiffen, while the fact that she felt read
y for penetration only made it worse. Yet being obliged to suck a man off was the least of her worries, as with the show only half way through it was obvious that giving into sex did not hold out the opportunity for escape from the other girls that she had hoped in would. Instead, she had merely ensured that Georgette would be yet more vindictive.

  Her only chance seemed to lie in pleasing one or other of the men so thoroughly that he decided to take her home with him, and so as she mouthed on Monsieur Corgoloin’s erection she used every trick she knew to make the experience pleasurable for him, while also giving full rein to her own arousal. Once he was stiff she pulled back, fixing her eyes to his harsh, impassive face as she slowly unfastened her dress and the chemise beneath, to allow her to lift out her breasts and cup them in her hands, showing off as she used her thumbs to get her nipples erect. He merely raised his eyebrows a trifle, but Monsieur Brochon was less reticent.

  ‘By Heaven she’s big, like a pair of Provençal melons! I’d love those rubbed around my cock.’

  ‘Let us exchange girls, by all means,’ Monsieur Corgoloin replied courteously. ‘Little Georgette has always been a favourite of mine, for all that she lacks Chastity’s impressive bosom.’

  ‘Much obliged, Albert,’ Monsieur Brochon replied. ‘Come on, girls, turn and turn about.’

  Thrift began to shuffle towards Monsieur Brochon, catching another ferocious glare from Georgette as they passed in the middle of the carpet, at which point Monsieur Brochon spoke up once more.

  ‘That’s a thought. Georgette, give Chastity’s titties a suckle. I’d like to see that.’

  Georgette stopped, her face scarlet.

  ‘But, Monsieur...’

  ‘Do you actually want that spanking, Georgette?’ Monsieur Brochon warned.

  ‘No,’ she replied hastily, ‘but... but please understand what you ask, Monsieur!’

  ‘I want to see one pretty girl sucking on another’s titties,’ he responded. ‘What’s so unusually about that? Dammit, I’ve watched you do it with Fleurette often enough.’

  ‘With M’selle Laroche, yes,’ Georgette answered, more flustered than ever, ‘but that is how she mothers us... how she comforts us after a spanking! I... I cannot, not with Chastity!’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Monsieur Brochon said easily. ‘I shall give you a choice. Let Chastity suckle you, or you can take a spanking, from her.’

  Georgette’s mouth came slowly open, then closed abruptly and with a single, petulant mumble she had bent forward to take Thrift’s nipple in her mouth, sucking so hard it hurt. Monsieur Brochon laughed, and even Monsieur Corgoloin managed a light chuckle as his companion spoke.

  ‘Gently, Georgette, gently. This is an act of love, not of war. Lay your head against her chest, in the crook of her arm and suck sweetly, as if you were feeding on her milk.’

  Georgette responded with an inarticulate grunt but did as she was told, twisting her body to allow Thrift to support her as a mother might support her baby, mouth to teat as she went back to sucking. There was no denying that it felt nice, and Georgette had closed her eyes against her own feelings, while both men were pulling on their cocks in open arousal.

  ‘Stroke her other breast, Georgette,’ Monsieur Brochon demanded, his voice thick with passion, ‘and Chastity, stroke her hair and cunt.’

  Thrift hesitated, but Georgette had put a hand to her breast, squeezing gently, while Monsieur Brochon looked as if he were on the verge of apoplexy. Hoping that it might even be possible to win Georgette’s sympathy, she bent low to whisper an apology into the other girl’s ear, then did as she had been ordered. Georgette gave a weak sob as Thrift began to caress her, one hand stroking at her long, dark hair, the other kneading the moist, swollen flesh of her sex. Monsieur Brochon grunted and a fountain of thick, white spunk erupted from his cock to soil his hand and trousers.

  ‘Damn!’ he swore. ‘And I meant to fuck her tits!’

  ‘Perhaps later?’ Thrift suggested, forcing the words out.

  ‘Can’t be done, my dear,’ he answered her. ‘We must be back to our wives, eh Albert?’

  ‘Indeed we must,’ Monsieur Corgoloin responded, ‘but for the moment, come here, both of you, on your knees. As I have the virtue of patience, it is I who shall fuck in Chastity’s cleavage.’

  Thrift crawled to him, her bare breasts swinging beneath her chest, to fold them around his engorged cock. He immediately began to fuck in the soft, fleshy slide she had made, the head of his cock popping in and out. Georgette had come close, as ordered, and sat watching until he beckoned her.

  ‘Make a cunt of your lips, Georgette.’

  She grimaced but did as she was told, moving in close to purse her mouth against Thrift’s cleavage so that with each push of his cock Monsieur Corgoloin penetrated the seal of her lips. He sighed in pleasure and began to move faster, jamming his erection up and down between Thrift’s breasts and into Georgette’s mouth. Monsieur Brochon looked on with envy but also approval, absently wiping his cock and trousers with a handkerchief as his friend used the two girls.

  Georgette’s spittle had begun to run down into Thrift’s cleavage, making the flesh of her breasts slippery around Monsieur Corgoloin’s pumping cock. He grunted, spunk erupted into Georgette’s mouth, exploded from around her lips and the slit between Thrift’s breasts had grown more slippery still. He grabbed his cock, to finish himself off over Thrift’s chest and in Georgette’s face as both girls rocked back on their heels, then relaxed with a sigh.

  Thrift was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, her belly tight with excitement. She wondered if they would want her to masturbate in front of them, perhaps even have her lick Georgette and vice versa, but Monsieur Brochon gave a quiet cough as he glanced at his watch.

  ‘Fleurette will be expecting us, Albert, but as a final treat, Georgette, you may lick Chastity’s breasts clean. And no nonsense.’

  Georgette had been about to speak, but closed her mouth, leaving her spunk streaked face set in deep consternation as she lent forward. Thrift obliged by lifting her breasts to make it easier for Georgette to lap up the spunk, still hoping to create a bond between them. Georgette took no notice, her sharp pink tongue flicking in and out to lick up bits of spunk until Thrift’s breasts were glossy with saliva but otherwise moderately clean. She also did it so that the men could see, performing for them despite her fury at what she was being made to do, and when she finally pulled back she was smiling.

  ‘Good girl,’ Monsieur Brochon said, and reached out to pay Georgette on the head. ‘There, that was all quite fun really, wasn’t it?’

  All he got in return for his question was a shrug, the meaning unclear although Georgette was still smiling. He laughed and stood up to adjust his trousers, checking his watch again as he started for the door.

  ‘Come, Albert, the performance will have started, while these two, if I know what tarts are like, will want to be alone together.’

  Monsieur Corgoloin responded with a knowing chuckle and the two men walked from the room, taking the Champagne with them and leaving Thrift and Georgette still kneeling on the carpet. Thrift hung her head, fighting her emotions as she spoke in a barely audible whisper.

  ‘If... if you want to do anything nasty to me, do it now.’

  Georgette lifted one delicate eyebrow.

  ‘Oh, it’s like that is it? I suspected as much. No. I want to take it out on you, but I want the other girls to join in, especially poor Narcisse. She was close to tears when she came off.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Thrift mumbled.

  ‘You will be,’ Georgette assured her, ‘but for now, get that big bottom in the air. Come on, face on the carpet, bottom high, knees apart to show your cunt.’

  Thrift obeyed, expecting to be spanked as she once more adopted the same position in which she had been made to smoke the cigar in her vagina. Af
ter what she’d done her apprehension was tempered by arousal, but that didn’t stop her bottom cheeks from twitching as she waited for her punishment.

  ‘It’s a shame they took the bottle,’ Georgette remarked. ‘I could have stuck it up your big fat bottom and given you a Champagne enema. Still, we must think of the carpet, or we’ll be scrubbing at it in the nude until midnight. Which gives me an idea, but for now...’

  Her voice trailed of as she got to her feet, to give Thrift a single, resounding slap across her bare bottom. Thrift tensed, expecting more, but Georgette simply stepped out of her pantalettes and scrunched them into a ball. Walking across the room, the tall girl opened a cabinet and extracted a slender bottle of vivid green liquid, a small quantity of which she poured into her discarded drawers.

  ‘Absinthe,’ she explained, ‘not too much, as we don’t want you drunk, but enough to make you tipsy, and to sting.’

  Thrift had already worked out where the pantalettes were going, and put on a resigned face as Georgette came back. The ball of soggy material was pressed to Thrift’s cunt and up, worked slowly in with Georgette’s fingers until the hole was straining wide but a good half of the garment still hung out. The absinthe immediately began to sting, leaving Thrift gasping and Georgette laughing as she once more slapped Thrift’s bottom.

  ‘There we are, half up you, half hanging out so that everybody can see what’s been done to you. Now, get up, and off with your clothes, all of them. Then we had better join the others.’

  Thrift began to beg.

  ‘Not naked, Georgette, not like this!’

  Georgette’s hand shot out, to catch Thrift a stinging blow across her cheek.

  ‘Strip!’ she ordered.

  Thrift began to undress, letting her clothes fall in a puddle around her feet, even her corset. Georgette watched, near naked herself but still with a sneer of amusement and superiority on her face. When Thrift was stark naked she gathered up her clothes and followed Georgette from the room.