The following is a work of fiction and is in no way meant to represent real people or events. It is completely written and owned by me, OfStarsAndDreams.
>>>> My erotic stories are generally written on behalf of others and do not necessarily reflect my own interests, fetishes, or personal history. <<<<
F/m. Small penis humiliation, blackmail, forced/nonconsensual, pantyhose/leotards (on F), clothing fetish, tan/suntan (on F), clothed female nude male, single male, stripping for group/exposure, mocking/harassment/teasing/verbal abuse, forced submission, dehumanization, catty women
Let's begin!
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When I arrived at the address I was uncertain if I'd shown up in the right place. I checked the directions on my phone three times, circling the building uneasily until finally accepting that this had to be the place. It was the only structure on the street - an old unmarked building on a dead end road surrounded by vacant lot and fencing. Of course I didn't want to go in. Nobody wants to enter abandoned run down buildings in the middle of nowhere. But I had no choice.
Someone had dug up dirt on me. I don't know how -- I had made sure to keep all of my little secrets hush hush. But then I got the text, from someone with the screen name sexβ‘kitten. Whoever they were, they'd made it abundantly clear that they weren't messing around. They instructed me to meet them there or they'd release everything they'd found on me all over the net. All over social media, to my coworkers, to my family. Everyone would know.
For all I knew someone was waiting inside to mug me, beat me up, or even kill me. I glanced down at my phone again, my hands shaking. There was a timer on the screen, clicking down minutes. I could see the seconds rolling back, the microseconds, like a stopwatch. I'd been told that if I didn't show up everything would be released when that counter hit zero, like a time bomb, exploding my life to smithereens.
So I really didn't have a choice.
I took a deep breath and pushed open the metal door, the old hinges loudly announcing my entry. What I saw took me by complete surprise. There wasn't a gang of thugs ready to beat me. At least... I didn't think so. It was actually my old coworker. Felicia.
She grinned when she saw me, "Glad you could make it. I was actually kind of hoping you'd chicken out, you know. It's always funny when the guys try to call our bluff. Oh, yeah, I hope you don't mind, I invited some friends along."
She wasn't alone. Lounging about the room -- because this place was something like a living room, with several couches arranged in a circle at the center of a larger empty space -- were a number of women. I quickly counted seven. The whole lot of them looked like dancers or gymnasts, all tight and toned and impressively fit. Their bodies were perfect in all the right ways, with perky breasts and full asses. But that wasn't why I thought they resembled dancers. Rather, it was because they were all wearing these tight, form fitting clothes. Each outfit was a little different, some looking more like figure skaters with long sleeved one-piece leotards riding high up on hips encased in sheer tights, others were in sleek sleeveless numbers or more opaque leggings. One wore a two piece number - barely more than hot pants and a sports bra - over high waisted tights, the sheer fabric clinging to the lines of her golden stomach. Their skin was all like that -- golden and glowing, warm and tanned. Not the kind of fake tan you get with bronzer, but that real sun soaked tint you get from actually being outside, the kind you'd get sunbathing or enjoying a nude beach.
And they were all watching me with the kind of lazy interest I associated with large carnivores.
"So I see you've been a very naughty boy," said Felicia, snapping my attention back to her. I wasn't sure how to respond. It sounded almost like a come on. Why had she called me here? Who were these women?
"Well, as it turns out, my girlfriends and I love finding guys like you. We get them into a position where they can't say no, then bring them here and have our fun with them." The girls giggled at this.
"What kind of fun?" I asked, understandably nervous. Though there was some part that almost felt a sense of anticipation. Did she really mean what I thought she meant? Was I going to get a chance with these beautiful women?