Innumerable times Bill and I promised, threatened and, in the heat of passion, excited my wife with the prospect of making her a stripper. When playing with her or fucking her we'd often talk of our intentions. if only to get her admit that the idea turned her on. Of course, pursuing such a promise anywhere near where we lived was an impossibility. One could never know who among our acquaintances or work colleagues might simply on a lark visit such an establishment and cause us unknown grief and the ruination of reputations. It was also the case, insofar as I knew, that the local clubs in the city were seedy places. Seeing my wife perform onstage might have been a delicious fantasy, but I hardly wanted to put her in a situation where she could experience physical abuse or made to fuck any men who'd threaten one disease or another. Nevertheless, the fantasy persisted and I knew that Betty was now sufficiently submissive that if we set her up to do it, she would comply.
Once again, it was Bill who made the critical suggestion. After confirming that I'd allow her to stip provided her safety and anonymity were guaranteed, he recalled a relatively upscale 'Gentleman's Club' about 75 miles from where we lived. He'd brought a sub there several years ago, not to strip but rather as a step to turning her onto other women . Although the club had to abide by the state's laws about not being wholly naked onstage, he also recalled that after it officially closed for the night, there often were 'private showings'. He didn't know the owner or anyone who worked there, but he was willing to make inquiries.
I gave the green light to proceed since that committed me to nothing, and a week or so later Bill reported that he'd spoken to the owner/manager who told him that if we had someone who wanted to strip, we could bring her over anytime. There was no formal audition, but if she met the 'appropriate' physical requirements he'd set aside a slot where she could go onstage. Her first public performance would be an audition after which both sides could determine if there was any interest in pursuing things further.
Of course, there's no sense in fantasizing about such things if I thought my wife would freeze up exhibiting herself that way. This was not, then, the sort of thing that could be sprung on her as a surprise. So Bill and I debated two approaches: Either bring her to the club with no commitment that she dance and have her do so only if the idea turned her at that point, or talk to her beforehand about it and let her prepare herself mentally for doing so. I opted for the second approach but in a way that still made it a command. Thus, after dinner one day I simply told her "Bill and I will be taking you to a strip club soon to have you perform."
"Are you serious?" she asked, but not in a challenging way.
"Yes ... we've found a club where we are unlikely to meet anyone we know."
"Are you sure you want me to do this?"
"Why not," I answered, "after all, you've already shown nearly as much of yourself as you can in the dresses you've worn."
"I suppose so, but still ... I sometimes fantasized about being a stripper, but thought it was only fantasy."
"Well, if you fantasized about it, then it must be the case that the idea makes you wet. And you and I both know that Bill and I have been able to get you off harder talking about making you a stripper when we've fucked you."
"Yes, you have ... but the idea also scares me. I suppose every girl at some point fantasizes about being a stripper but very few actually do it. Anyhow, do you think I can be as sexy onstage as the girls who dance professionally?"
"Honey, once you get into it, I'm positive you can be as sensuous and erotic as anyone."
That, in effect, concluded our conversation. She hadn't said yes but neither did she say no. I took that to be acceptance on her part to do it and I later communicated as much to Bill. Of course, I still hadn't seen the club and had to take his word for it that it was an appropriate venue for removing yet a few more inhibitions from my wife. We did agree, though, that it would be best to pick a weekday night ... Thursday ... when there wouldn't be many customers for fear that a crowded room of leering men might be too intimidating for her.
Leading up to the chosen night I suspected that my wife had privately practiced her dancing ... a guess that was later confirmed. Bill had also given her several private auditions on the nights he had her alone. In fact, we had by then fallen into something of a routine over the course of her first 5 or 6 weeks as our slut: Bill got her alone at least one night a week, we shared her together either Friday or Saturday (usually at Bill's house), and on two occasions Bill came to our house to fuck her. With my consent he came when we were doing not much of anything and announced he was there to fuck her, whereupon he'd take her to our bedroom, use her for a ½ hour or so, and leave. At least two nights a week she was strictly my sub, required to satisfy me in any way I chose. That included having her spend the evening wearing a pair of fuck me heels, collar and sheer babydoll nitie or thong. I often had her fuck herself or plug her own ass in the living room while I watched. Of course, during the day, she was required to wear her plug whenever she went out. When I fucked her she would tell me how much she enjoyed being a slut, that she craved being a stripper and whore (regardless of the truth of those statements), and how Bill had last used her. Aside from spanking or having her wear her nipple clips, her experience with BDSM was pretty much limited to Bill's bedroom. For reasons I can't recall, pee play seemed to have fallen by the wayside and in the interim there was only one other trip to our favorite restaurant. Alas, our 'friend' wasn't there and nothing more happened than displaying as before. She wore her jumpsuit on that occasion and I decided it was too conservative ... appropriate for traveling on a plane perhaps but not when I wanted her displayed as an unashamed slut. And since we couldn't have her going to the same restaurant wearing one of the same two dresses I decided that another trip to our 'favorite' dress shop was in order.
It was also the case that a return to that store was essential, since, if I really was going to follow up on making her a stripper, she needed something more appropriate than what she owned. She and I went alone without Bill on Tuesday ... I even made it a point of coming home a few hours early from work for that purpose. And of course the store manager, with a broad knowing smile, immediately recognized us. I'd already settled in my mind that the most appropriate outfit would be a long gown, but she needed one that was explicitly slutty and easily removable rather than 'merely' revealing. And although I didn't tell Betty that we were going shopping to find her something to stip in ... only that it was time to augment her wardrobe ... after our last conversation she had a pretty good idea why we were there. Indeed, if she didn't, that quickly became apparent by the gowns I asked her to look at, since none were of the type that could be worn at ANY restaurant or nightclub of which I was aware.
It didn't take long to find one I thought was perfect. I'd seen it the first time we visited the shop, but knew then that it wouldn't be appropriate for her until and unless we had made plans to display her in places other that shopping malls and restaurants. Although actually one piece, it was almost nearly two. First there was the skirt that hung provocatively low on the hips to the point of revealing the crack of her ass with a slit up the front to above the height of her cunt. This in turn was connected by a ring to a halter top (much like the top of a slut's one-piece bathing suit) that tied around the neck and didn't quite cover her tits. Or rather, it covered them but only in a strict legal sense. The gown came with a black matching thong sprinkled with small rhinestones, which was absolutely essential since without it my wife's cunt would be plainly (and at any strip club in the state, illegally) in view. In fact, the only part of the thong that was covered in any way by the dress was the back, and there only that part of it that disappeared between the cheeks of her ass.
