Nightclub

We make eye contact in a crowded nightclub. You're just what I'm looking for. I smile and invite you to my table with a little nod of my head. Your lip curls a little and you look away. I'm stung. I'm used to guys coming over, buying drinks, asking to dance, coming on to me. I take a breath and slip from my stool. You're leaning against the rail above the dance-floor. I sidle up next to you. I want to say something, but I don't know what. You speak first, just loud enough to be heard above the music.

"Hello, slut."

My mouth opens. My cheeks burn. I feel a knot in my belly. And something else. I try to deny it from myself, but I'm aroused. I finally manage a sputtered question, "Wh-what?"

You lean in to speak into my ear, "You heard me. Slut. It's what you are, isn't it?"

"No!" I cry, "I'm not!"

Your hand is a blur and I feel the sting of it burning my cheek before I register the motion.

Angry tears well up in my eyes and I glare back defiantly. But my defiance feels false. Doesn't my little, black dress advertise exactly the kind of girl I am? My tits nearly hang out of its low neckline, its high skirt barely covers my ass. Don't I already feel my body responding, my flesh tingling, a warmth and wet between my legs? Didn't I come here to go home with someone, anyone? You just smirk. My stomach knots up.

Your eyes lead mine to a bouncer by the door, daring me to go to him. He'd believe me. He'd kick you out. But I don't move. I see smug triumph on your face and I drop my gaze to the floor, defeated. My cheeks and ears burn with humiliation, but I want you. In this moment, I want you so badly. I want you to take me home.

You lean in again. I feel your breath on my neck when you speak. It sends shivers down my spine. "Don't lie to me again. Tell me what you are."

"I'm a slut," I murmur, far too quietly to be heard over the music.

You shake your head and make a gesture by your ear.

This time I say it loud enough to be heard, "I'm a SLUT!" A few people around glance at me. My pussy is nearly aching, now. I need you.

You smile. You lean in, "You're worthless fuckmeat! Go out that door," you point, "Wait by the dumpster in the alley. On your knees."

Then you turn away. I've been dismissed. I wait an agonizing moment. I think about leaving. I could just leave. Ignore you. Go home.

But I don't.

I go to the door.

****

It seems like I've been waiting forever. The asphalt of the alley is hard on my bare knees. Then the door opens with a loud clunk and I look up, desperately hoping it's you.

It's not. Two couples exit in a gaggle, hanging off each other. I look away. They see me, and I can hear their reactions, curious and amused. One girl, laughing, calls out asking me, "What are you doing?"

My heart races. I don't know how to answer. "I'm waiting for someone," I finally answer, my eyes fixed to the ground before me. My voice is high pitched, on the verge of tears.

Another girl seems concerned, "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

I shake my head, speak quickly, "No. I'm okay."

"Ah, come on!" one of the guys says, "Let's go! I know a place!"

They pull each other away, exit the alley. "Bye!" the first girl calls back. She's still laughing, "Have fun!"

I shiver. I'm so horny. I wonder if there's time to masturbate. I want to resist urge. What if you came out at that moment? What if someone else did? The thought both horrifies me and serves to arouse me further. I'm still wrestling with the idea when the door opens again.

It's you.

My heart skips a beat. I feel my blush return. I can't meet your eyes.

"Well here you are," you say. Your voice conveys amusement, surprise, contempt. God. Your voice is like chocolate, deep and rich. "Here you are, on your knees, in an alley, waiting for a stranger. You don't even know my name. Still deny that you're a slut?"

I keep my eyes to the ground. I shake my head. Your hand surprises me again, striking me again on my cheek, leaving a deep sting. Tears start from my eyes.

"You will answer my questions with your voice, slut, and you will call me Sir."

"Yes Sir," I answer meekly. It feels right and natural. You stand before me, my face at level with your groin.

"Now answer my question. Do you still deny that you're a slut?"

"No Sir," I pause a moment with my mouth open. I want to say the words, "I'm a slut."

"Tell me, slut, what were you thinking of just now. I saw a look in your eye as I came out."

I blanched, "I- I-"

"Answer me!" your voice has a sharp edge of anger.

The words fall out of me, "I was thinking about masturbating, Sir! I wanted to! So badly!"

You laugh, a bark of contempt. You slide your hand into my hair. Your touch is electric. I look up into your eyes. They're black, so black that I cannot distinguish the iris from the pupil. Your eyes could swallow me. Now your voice is gentle. It seems to come from the earth. "Take off your dress, slut, and give it to me."

My eyes grow wide. My jaw drops. I feel cold horror grip me. My mind stammers. Please don't make me, please. I'll be seen. It's already bad. The horror of it competes with shame. Because I know that want to. I want to do it. I don't know if I can. You speak again in the same gentle tone.

"You have a choice, whore. You can get up and walk away. You can go home and put a dildo between your legs and pretend that's enough. Or, you can take off your dress and give it to me. Then, I will punish you for being slow to obey. Here, in this alley. After that, I'll call for my car. So, what will it be?"

I nearly melt. My heart pounds in my chest. My hands are trembling. I reach behind my back to unzip my dress. I slough it off from my shoulders, let it fall to the swell of my hips, push it to my knees. I have to bend down, touch the ground for balance while I the dress out from under my knees. I feel your eyes on me, appraising my nearly naked body. A strapless bra. Panties. My heels. I look up at you and hand you my dress in a clump. I shiver, feeling exposed.

"Your bra, too. Give it to me."

I look at the door, pleading with my eyes. You watch me impassively. I'm so easily defeated. I reach behind me again and unhook it, slip it from around me. My tits spill out, jello-y, swaying gently. My pink nipples are pointed and hard, the aureolae pebbled, advertising my arousal. You take my bra.

"Good. Now. For your punishment, you're going to clean my shoes." You lean over me and take my head in your hand, "You are going to lower yourself to your hands and your knees and you are going to clean my shoes with your tongue. Do you understand me?"

A little sob escapes my throat.

"Do you want your clothes back? You can take them and go home."

My voice is dry, breathless, "No. No Sir."

"Then get to work you piece of shit."

I wail. I gush. I ache with desire. I lower myself, my face to your shoes. They're soft, worn leather, casual and stylish. They look expensive. I began to lick them, pressing my tongue thick against the material. The leather is sour and dries my tongue.

"Tell me what you want, slut. Maybe if you're good, I'll give it to you."

Oh god, I want you so badly. I want everything. Where do I begin, "I want-"

The ka-chunk of the door interrupts me. I stop and look up, frozen, breathing quick. A couple of guys walked out. Bros, wearing football jerseys and backward caps. They had come out laughing about something, but one of them stops when he sees me and gapes. The other follows his gaze and trails off. I look up at you. You turn and look at the guys. You smile and look back at me.

"Go ahead, slut. Tell me what you want."

I struggle for my voice. I can manage only a single word, strangled and high-pitched, "Cock! I want your... I want... cock!"

You laugh, a rich, throaty laugh, "Keep cleaning, slut. You just might get your wish."

I close my eyes. I cannot bear to look. I lick your shoes and I listen to you speak to the two men.

"What do you boys think? Do you think the slut deserves some cock?"

"Look man," the one begins, hesitant, "We don't wanna..." but his friend interrupts him.

"Yeah!" He sounds brash, arrogant, "Hell yeah! I'll give her cock if she wants it!"

My stomach is a hollow pit but my mouth fills with saliva. I feel your hand in my hair and you pull me up, back to a kneeling posture. You show me off to the two of them, offering me. The eager one is nearly drooling, gawking at my body. The other one is smiling a little, still nervous.

"Oh she wants it, alright," you say, "She's an eager piece of fuckmeat. Aren't you, slut? Do you want to suck some cock?"

My breath is heavy. "Yes," I gasp.

"What's that, slut? I don't think we heard you!" Your tone manages to be both stern and mocking.

"Yes," I say again, "Yes Sir. I'll suck both their cocks." And I knew I would, there on my knees in the alley, like a whore on the street.

You step away as the first guy approaches me. He opens his pants and pulls out his prick, already hard, waggling before my face. He's circumsized. He looks clean and pink. I look up at him. He's laughing, greedy. I take him in my hand guide his cock into my open mouth.

He's warm and salty. I can smell his sweat. Oh yeah, he says. I move in a slow rhythm, wrapping my fingers around the shaft and stroking him in time with the motion of my head. He moans and puts his hand on my head. I pick up the pace. My lips slurp as I suck him off. I can't believe that I am doing this. I close my eyes and let his hand guide me, increasing the pace, slurping noisily. I make little noises of protest when he tries to push too deep, pulling back from him. He doesn't insist, and I wonder if you'll notice that. Will you punish me for it?

He's soon close, so close to coming. I'm moving rapidly, sucking and stroking, milking his cock. He moans and his cock spurts come, filling my mouth with its eggy texture. I hold my head, stroking with my hand, swallowing, looking up at him as he comes in my mouth. He sighs and slips his cock from my mouth. My lips make a kissing noise, suckling the last drop. He passes me off to his friend.

I bend to spit before I start, but I see you. All it takes is a shake of your head. I know what you want. I collect saliva and come into a ball on my tongue and swallow it. I'm a come-eating whore and now it's another man's turn to make use of my mouth. He already has his cock out, hard and ready for me. He's larger than his friend. I slide my tongue thick up and down the shaft, wetting him and then take the head into my lips.

I work the second man's cock more quickly than the first, stroking and sucking, trying to excite him more quickly to orgasm. I press my tongue thick along the base of his cock, and his head up against the roof of my mouth. He moans and grabs my hair, pulling me to his belly, wanting to push his way deeper. I resist but he doesn't relent. His cock slides into my throat. It chokes me, but I have experience with this. Men have wanted this before, and I've learned how. I relax my throat. I let it swallow, massaging his cock. He moans. He grips my head with both hands, holding me still, then he pulls back and then plunges in again, fucking my throat. I let him, catching what breath I can. My eyes water and I struggle not to gag. I hear the door ka-chunk open, but it seems distant; my being is focused on the cock in my mouth.

But in that moment, with a groan, he comes. It spurts into my throat and he pulls out. He holds my head and lets another spurt of come shoot across my cheek. I'm gasping. I feel light headed. He puts his cock away and steps back. I can see five more people, guys and girls. I'm horrified. I raise my arms to cover my breasts. I look away, at the pavement. My knees hurt. I feel come cool and drip from my face. From the group I hear one girl's disgust and disbelief, a man's laughter. I wish that a hole would open up and swallow me. And I'm horny. I wish that someone would fuck me. My panties are soaked.

Then, your voice, "Lower your arms, pig."

I lower my arms to my side.

"Tell us what you want."

My face screws up. My stomach twists into a tight knot. My voice is high, nearly breaking with tears, "I want- I want someone to fuck me."

"Do you now? Well, will show us what you're offering?"

"What- I-" I look at you and I understand. "Yes Sir," I say.

I slide my hands under the elastic of my panties and slip them down. I have to balance on one hand to get them from under my knees. I feel my tits sway heavily, and I finally glance at the gawkers, watching me. I see the disgusted girl right away. Her lip is curled and her eyes are angry. She stares at me transfixed. So do the others. A couple more girls, a couple more guys. The first two guys are still there, too. Perhaps they hope they'll get to fuck me, too. I suspect that before the end of the night, they both will. For the first time I wonder where the end of this will be for me. How low will I sink before the night is over? Is it just this a single, degrading night, or is this the beginning of something more? I feel a sinking horror.

I look away, back to you. I give you my panties. You smile.

"Open your mouth."

I can see your intent. I open my mouth and you stuff in the wad of thin material. I offer no protest.

"All right," you say, "Continue. Show us how you like to fuck."

My head feels light, almost swimming. I turn and bend over, lowering myself to my elbows, lifting my ass high, exposing myself to the crowd. I've always liked it best from behind. I imagine one of the men taking me there, like that, grabbing my hips and fucking me while the others watch, getting excited, pushing me down, putting his weight on me, dominating me. I nearly weep with aching lust.

END OF PART ONE.