© This is written by me, and can be reproduced for your enjoyment, however not if it is reproduced on an internet pay site, or any other medium; without compensation for me --- the writer.
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This story is fiction. It is meant to be read by adults. Children under the age of 18, please leave. All the characters in this story are of my own imagination, and not real in any sense of the word. Any similarities to that of living people is pure coincidental.
However, one fan of my prior erotic stories, was instrumental in making this story possible. I dedicate this story to her.
Story Summary: De Ann and her husband Trent experience Vegas from the back of a strip club. Used and humiliated, they think their arrival back home in Dallas is the end of their personal nightmare – but thanks to their nosy neighbor, it is just the beginning.
Read on: In these two chapters De Ann gets her fill of healthy cocks, and Trent gets humiliated – and I hope you enjoy this story.
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Chapter 4 ********** Trent's Thoughts ********
While at the same time during the flight home, Trent began thinking about how this weekend all changed for him. Seeing his young beautiful wife dancing on stage, swaying to the music, was too much for him to bear. He couldn't stand seeing her flaunt herself that way. Despite all the pressure he was constantly laying on her to dress and act more sexily, now that she was actually doing it, he didn't like it.
Trent rushed the stage – he tried to call out for her. She didn't appear to hear him. He tried to reach out for her and that didn't work. She just went to the other end of the stage. As he tried to climb up on stage and get her out of there, some muscular dude tackled him breaking a table and spilling a few of the patron's drinks in the process.
The muscular bouncer put Trent in an arm lock that subdued him completely, and rushed him out of the club. "Hey Man, you can't touch the dancers!" he threatened.
"She's my wife for crying out loud. I need to get her off that stage. She doesn't belong in there." Trent demanded as he rubbed his sore arm.
"Look Man, plenty of so-called husbands don't treat their woman right. Your ol' lady wants to dance – that's not my problem. You stopping her from dancing is my problem. I am not having any crazy, jealous husband making a mess while I'm on the job." The muscle bound oaf flatly stated. "You don't have any weapons on you – do you Man?"
"No" Trent shook his head.
"I better check just to be sure – spread your legs and stand still." The bouncer starts patting Trent down, starting at his shoulders, chest, around his back, then down one leg and up the other. He then took the liberty of patting down Trent's crotch. Before Trent could react, the bouncer was cupping Trent's balls and dick, as he ran his hand along Trent's shaft, he squeezed it to determine his length, thickness and even if he was circumcised or not.
Surprised and afraid, Trent jerked backward – just out of reach from the bouncer's robust arms. Trent's eyes showed the fear that his face was trying to hide. He did not like having a guy feel him up. Because it was such a powerful guy – he felt very intimidated by such an act.
"You are harmless!" The strong guy smirked at Trent.
Just at that moment another bouncer came out the door and asked the first one if he had everything under control.
The first muscle dude smiled wickedly at Trent "The way this Man tried to storm the stage, I thought I was going to have a problem. But now that I've checked him out, he's just a weak little Boy!" Up till just then the bouncer had used the term "Man" when talking with Trent. Now he used the demeaning term "Boy" to describe him.
Trent checked out this bouncer just a little closer. Compared to him, Trent was a "Boy" Since he weighed in at 157 pounds, and stood a mere 5' 7" tall, he was ten inches shorter, and nearly 100 pounds lighter than the derogatory bodyguard. This bouncer had a 58 inch chest that was crisscrossed by leather straps over his sleeveless muscle shirt. Below, he wore a pair of leather chaps and his crotch bulged out as if he was hiding a roll of quarters and couple of walnuts.
Trent decided to return inside by saying his wife meant more to him than anything else. But before he could re-enter the club, the second bouncer hit him in the back of the head. Trent crashed to the ground. He was stunned but had not lost all consciousness yet. He remembered them arguing over what to do with him. One suggested that they throw him in the dumpster, but the other said to take him in and someone would know what to do with him. Then he blacked out.
Coming to his senses – Trent found himself in a cold room where everything was upside down. Wait a minute, everything wasn't upside down – his head was dangling over a bench or something. He struggled to look up and around him and he realized that he was bound to a leather covered bench – like a padded gymnasium horse. By lifting his head up he could make out why he was so cold – someone had stripped his clothes off his body and strapped him to this bench. This wasn't good – he began to scream. "Yaaaahhhhhh" he yelled. "Heeeeelllllppppp"
A girl, perhaps a dancer was checking him out. "Tell Marcella that he's awake!" she told someone out of his view.
"Hi there sweetie!" The bubblegum chewing flaming redhead greeted him.
"Get me out of here --- My wife – she's in danger! I must get to her." He yanked on his bonds but they didn't give at all.