Stripping the Tease

Part 6

I pull the lace cup down off her breast a little further. Now I can just barely see the outline of her areole. It’s flushed rosy pink from heat and excitement.

“Or maybe I’ll spare you that indignity for the moment,” I go on, purposely ignoring the look of visible relief in her eyes. “Come to think of it, your panties were feeling pretty hot there for a while. Maybe I’ll just take a closer look there.” With that, I flip around 180 degrees, so now I’m facing her legs, with my ass hanging over her face. Her arms, still tangled hopelessly in her dress, struggle fruitlessly.

Suddenly there’s a sound of knocking on the door. “Hey, everything all right in there?” calls a voice. “People need to use the bathroom here!”

“Sorry,” I answer. “Be a minute.” I motion to Michael and he unlocks the door.

Women, urgently needing to use the facilities, flock in. Michael ducks behind the door, out of sight, just in time. Most of them head straight to the stalls. A couple of them, however, catch sight of Kelly and me, on the floor.

Eyes widen in shock. “What are you doing?” One woman demands. Someone grabs my arm and hauls me to me feet. Beneath me, Kelly struggles to sit up, frantically trying to refasten the zip in the back of her dress. Getting to her feet, she makes a break and runs out the bathroom door.

I shrug to the other women, wash my hands, and saunter out of the bathroom. Michel is waiting for me outside, having slipped out during the rush. Out of the corner of my eye I see Kelly at the bar, downing what looks like a double shot of whisky.

“I think it’s time we left,” I say.

---

In the coatroom I pause for a minute and rest my forehead against the cool, oak-paneled wall.

My breath comes in pants. I can barely contain the pounding of my heart, or the sudden, inexplicable wetness between my legs. My nipples, swollen and sensitive, chafe against my lace bra. All I know is, if I don’t find release soon, I’ll explode.

Suddenly something grabs my necklace, and jerking me backwards and cutting off my air. I land hard on my tailbone, and the grip loosens on my necklace and latches on to my hair. Gulping for air, I manage turn around just enough to catch a glimpse of blonde hair and red dress.

“You weren’t leaving already?” says Kelly, pulling me to my feet. Her breath smells of whisky.

“I think we’ve got some unfinished business,” she adds, half-leading, half-dragging me by the hair back into the party room. I’m too busy trying to get my breath back to resist. People start looking up in curiosity.

“Well, look what’s happened,” she continues. Her voice takes on a smooth, silky drawl. “Not so controlling now, are we?” She yanks my hair, just to make her point. “I’m going to make you go through everything you did to me – only out here in front of everyone!”

Part 7

Through tears of pain I look around the room, assessing my options. There are none.

“Now, where were we?” Kelly’s voice has taken on an alcoholic slur. “Oh yes, you were going to give everybody a show, aren’t you?” Standing there half-strangled by my necklace and gripped by my hair, I’m painfully aware the tables have turned. I can’t anticipate her now that she’s drunk, and that’s dangerous.

Her fingertips caress the top of my shoulder. My skin prickles.

People are starting to turn around. Emboldened, Kelly raises her voice a notch. “How does it feel now?” She slides the open v-neck of my dress a little wider, exposing the bra strap on my shoulder. “Oh yes, quite the little exhibitionist aren’t you?” Her manicured fingernail traces small circles on my bare skin.

Her finger leaves my shoulder and I feel the back zip of my dress loosen slightly. The V across my shoulders widens.

God help me, my nipples are hard.

I scan the crowd, searching for Michael and spot him off to the side, frozen in a stare. His mouth is open slightly, and I see a familiar bulge at the crotch of his pants.

Great. Bloody useless. Whoever it was that said women were fickle has never fully appreciated the vagaries of the male anatomy.

More heads are turning. Another yank on my hair and necklace brings fresh tears to my eyes. The neckline of my dress opens further, exposing the tops of my bra straps.

“Well?” Kelly purrs in my ear. “How do we feel now, dearie? Tell you what, if you beg me real hard – I mean, really, really hard – I just might let you off with some of your self-respect intact.” The dress slips a little further off my shoulders.

“Fuck you,” I manage to cough out with as much dignity as I can muster given my situation.

“Fair enough,” she drawls. “Only you won’t be so defiant once you’re naked in front of the whole room.”

Suddenly there’s a ripple through the crowd. “Hey, I know you!” Heads turn toward the sound of the voice, and a short, rather unattractive woman in an ill-fitting silk sheath breaks through the assembled people. She points directly at Kelly.

“I’ve definitely seen you before!” the ugly woman continues, “you were flirting with my husband earlier!”

“And mine!” adds another woman. Kelly looks around her, beginning to sense the change in the dynamic.

I grab the moment. “Well,” I say to Kelly, still half-strangled, “looks as if you’ve been making quite a reputation for yourself at this party.”

“Shut up!” she hisses, yanking on my hair again, only this time with less conviction.

Ignoring the pain this time I press on. “How many women have you pissed off tonight?”

“Shut up!” she says again. Her voice has started taking on a desperate edge as she senses her control slipping away. “I swear I’ll rip your dress right off!”

“And then what?” I ask. “These ladies here will tear you apart. So you’d better watch your back.”

Her attention shifts slightly and the grip on my hair and necklace loosens for an instant, which is all I need to act. Quickly I twist my body, shifting my weight against hers. Kelly overbalances on her high heel shoes and grabs at my dress for support, ripping it, then crashes heavily into a side table holding the cold appetizers. The table collapses, spilling shrimp cocktail and celery sticks onto the floor around her.

Dazed, Kelly gets up onto her hands and knees and smooths her skirt down over her thighs. One of her shoes has fallen off her feet and she gropes around, looking for it.

I glance down at the front of my black cocktail dress. It’s ripped open all the way down to the waist. “Right, you’re going to pay for that,” I tell her. “That dress was a Versace.”

Part 8

Without further preamble I grab her arm and haul the protesting blonde to her feet, sending her other shoe skittering off in the process. She sways a little standing up, and I wonder if she’s just starting to feel the full effects of the alcohol. Her bra has come disarrayed inside her dress, one creamy beige strap sliding halfway off her shoulder. She makes a halfhearted attempt to pull it back up, then stands there with her arms crossed, unable to meet my eye. It’s obvious the fight’s gone out of her.

“Well now Kelly, it looks as if you’ve alienated quite a few of the ladies,” I comment. “So, you have a choice. Either I turn you over to the ladies – and I guarantee they will rip you to shreds – or you play it my way, and maybe you can come out of this unscathed.”

She says nothing, just stands there, arms clenched across her chest, staring down at her bare feet. They look oddly vulnerable on the cold tile floor.

I sidle up behind her and run my fingertips lightly up her arms, to her shoulders. “How many men?” I ask. “Did you promise them something you didn’t intend to deliver?” She shakes her head, still staring down at the floor.

“Well, you did promise everybody a show, didn’t you?” I purr in her ear, slowly loosening the back zip of her dress. “But this is what you wanted for me, wasn’t it?” The zipper ends just past the small of her back, just barely exposing a small V of lace on the top of her panties where it covers the swell of her ass.

She makes an unintelligible noise. “It’s strange,” I go on, coaxing the top of the dress off her shoulders, “how things never turn out quite the way you expect.” The dress slides down her arms, baring her shoulders and back. She clutches her arms tighter around herself, holding the dress from slipping any lower. “But then again, that’s what makes life interesting, isn’t it?”

She makes no reply, just stands there huddled into herself, clutching her dress to the front of her breasts.

I let my fingers trail lightly down her spine through the opening in the back of her dress. Her skin is soft and warm to touch. She trembles slightly as I fiddle briefly with the clasp at the back of her bra, then continue on down her naked back, to trace along lacy elastic band at the top of her panties.

“Such fine, soft panties,” I murmur. “Expensive, were they?”

No response, just a sniffle and a nod of the head. “You’re just dying to show everybody in the room, aren’t you?”

“N-no,” she whispers dully.

“Funny, you seemed pretty okay with it earlier tonight.” I keep running my finger along the top of her panties. “Well then, we’ll just have to make this a game.”

“Wha-what do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I grin, reaching my hand deep into her dress to squeeze her rump. “I promise we’ll make this very interesting.”

Part 9

“Right then, here are the rules.” I pull my hand out from inside the back of Kelly’s dress and run it around to the front of her pelvis. “We’re going to find out just how many women’s husbands you’ve been propositioning. To make things really interesting, maybe I should raise your skirt one inch for every man, what do you think? Oh, and if you lie, I will also raise your skirt one inch.”

She makes a small whimpering noise. I grip her hips tightly with both hands and pull her against my body. The swell of her rump pushes against my pelvis, sending a jolt of heat spiraling down into my crotch.

“Let’s see… well, we know there’s my date, Michael, right?” I slowly start pulling up her dress with my fingers. “How about that man over there? He’s rather handsome too, isn’t he?” She swallows and nods, and I pull the skirt up another inch, bunching it up around her pelvis in my hands. I point out another man, and another, raising her skirt up inch by inch regardless of her answers, exposing first bare thighs, then the shadowy triangle at the bottom of her panties.

“Well,” I murmur. “You really have been a bad girl, haven’t you? And you know what bad girls have to do, don’t you? Bad girls have to show their panties to the boys.”

With that I slowly pull the bottom of the dress all the way up to her waist and hold it there, bunched up in one hand while my other starts caressing the firm, trembling skin on her belly. With my finger I trace the lace border of her panties just below her navel.

My own head is reeling. She fills my senses. The universe has shrunk down to just the two of us. This moment. The buzz of the crowd has shrunk to mere background noise. I hear only the hitch of her drawn breath, feel only the warmth of her skin, the softness of her hair. Her scent fills my nostrils, a heady combination of perfume and fear. But undercut with something muskier, more primal.

My hand runs experimentally down her belly over lace and nylon, past the swell of her mound.

Yes.

Just as I thought, underneath the fear, the trembling, the humiliation, the front of her panties is already getting warm and moist to the touch. Holding her tighter against my body I ply two fingers between her legs and start a slow, rhythmic stroking.

She cringes against me, trying to pull away from this latest violation, only encountering my pelvis pressed firmly into her buttocks. My fingers maintain their pace, back and forth against the dampening crotch of her panties. Her breath is coming out in choked sobs. And, underneath the sobbing, the beginning of a barely audible panting.

I find the hard little bud of her clitoris and roll it between my fingers like a marble. A moan escapes her lips, unbidden. Betrayed by her body, she moves against my fingers, her own trembling hands clutching the front of her dress over her chest in white-knuckled desperation.

I press my middle finger right against her clit. She shudders.

“Drop your arms,” I whisper, pressing in again.

Slowly she lets her arms fall to her sides. The red dress slips with a sigh into a pool of fabric down round her ankles, leaving her in nude-colored bra and panties, her skin flushed from shame and arousal. Out of the crowd a flashbulb pops.

“Smile for the camera,” I say, tilting her chin up. The camera flashes again, capturing the exquisite spectacle, this would-be seductress, now reduced to tears and lingerie.

I have her literally in the palm of my hand, and victory is mine.

Part 10

But wait, there’s more.

“I’d like to say we were done,” I continue, still gently massaging the now-sodden crotch of Kelly’s panties, “but I’m afraid I’m having way too much fun, don’t you agree?”

No answer, just a soft whimper. “Of course, there’s much more to see.” With my free hand I flick her bra straps off her shoulders, one by one. Her nipples are hardened points underneath the pink-beige lace. My fingers glide softly over them, brushing so lightly I can feel them quiver against the tips, before I slide my hand round back to unhook the clasp.

For a second she arches her back up, as if expecting to hold the loose cups up with only her upturned breasts, then sags in defeat as the lacy bra flutters to the floor.

Her breasts are perfect, round and rosy-tipped. I can’t resist running my hand up from her stomach to caress the soft underside of one.

Keeping my middle finger on Kelly’s swollen clitoris, I hook my thumb into the top band of her panties and start to pull them down, lowering them just enough for me to slip my hand completely inside. Her bare mound is smooth, shaven completely hairless.

Inside her panties she’s soaking wet. Her heat is incredible, matched only by the answering fire between my own legs. Gripping her body tighter against me, I push first one, then two fingers inside her slick recesses. A mere flick of my wrist sends her last remaining garment sliding down round her ankles. She moans again, whether in pleasure or shame I can no longer tell.

My aching nipples press harder into her back. My fingers push into her deeper, harder, finding the places within that only another woman would know.

In spite of herself she’s rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, pressing herself into my hand, grunts of pleasure interspersed between her tears of shame. I can almost hear her thinking: what could be more humiliating than being forced to orgasm by another woman, in front of a roomful of strangers?

And that’s when I withdraw my hand and push her away from me.

She stumbles blindly, chest heaving, body flushed and eyes wild, scarcely able to believe I would deny her this final release. Without its curtain of pubic hair, her engorged nether regions are obscenely visible. The men are staring with open mouths and bulging crotches, some of them idly touching themselves. Most of the women have lascivious smirks on their faces, and I can see noticeably hardened nipples jutting out from more than a few dresses.

All at once Kelly sees the crowd watching her, and makes a frantic effort to cover herself with her arms, wincing slightly as her hand encounters her sensitive pubis.

A tall man walks out from the crowd, bright spots of color still dotting his cheeks. “Excuse me,” he begins, still adjusting his trousers as inconspicuously as he can, “I’m the manager here, and I think it’s time for you ladies to leave.”

Helplessly reeling about in humiliation, Kelly looks desperately at the clothing strewn all over the floor. “But – but I’m – “

“Please,” says the man firmly, pressing some bills into her hand. “Get yourself a cab. On the house.” With that, he takes her elbow and propels her, naked and sobbing, out the door.

“And as for you… ” He turns his attention to me. Suddenly self-conscious, I pull the torn front of my dress together over my chest.

“I’ll take her home,” Michael steps out of the crowd and puts his arm protectively around my shoulders, enveloping me in the warmth of his body. We walk out of the building together, holding each other tightly.

Out on the sidewalk he raises his arm for a taxi, and one comes immediately. I look around for any sign of a naked blonde female, but I see no one.

Safely bundled now in the warm backseat of the cab, Michael kisses my lips, my neck, my shoulders as I throw my leg over his lap and mount him feverishly. Still vibrating from the thrill of public exhibitionism, my clitoris grinds against his groin.

“Take me, now,” I whisper.

His eyes are dark with desire as he reaches behind me and tears my dress to shreds.

END.