Warning: Reader discretion is strongly advised. This is a particularly dark story about sex that is dubiously consentual and impregnation that is nonconsentual written from a male perspective. Many of my stories focus on shame and humiliation, but this one is more brutal than usual.
For most of his life Gary thought that stripclubs were about the saddest place that existed. Poor, damaged women gyrated on a mirrored neon stage for pathetic, desperate men. The strippers showed their customers what they'll never get to taste of an inch at a time, and their customers showered them with a few crumpled up bills for the privilege. Then they both walked away with a bad taste in their mouths, with both of them feeling like they got the short end of the stick. Gary realized that was a suckers game decades ago, but tonight he wasn't here to see tits. Instead he sat in the back of this dive, nursing a watered down mai thai while he watched a bottle blond going through the motions on stage. If anything, he thought, COVID had made places like these even worse than they'd been only a year or two ago. The prettiest women had all fled to OnlyFans, and the crowd was thinner than the hair of the average customer watching the show. It was nothing but the dregs of humanity on both sides of the equation these days, he thought, which suited him fine, desperation was exactly what he looked for when he wasted an evening in one of these little hell holes.
"Care for a dance?" a raven haired stripper asked him as she prowled the darkness looking to make a quick fifty off of her sagging tits.
"Maybe later," Gary answered with a quick shake of his head. He hadn't gotten a lapdance from a predator like that in almost thirty years, when he was too young to know better.
At almost fifty he was starting to show his age, so even half covered in tattoos she was probably still hot enough to be out of his league, but he had the money to afford better pussy without breaking a sweat. That was the reason he visited places like this on business trips: because every woman here was for sale, whether she knew it or not. Dating or sugaring was always an option of course, if he wanted a woman he could take to social events. He wasn't here to show anyone off though. He just wanted someone he could spend the night ruining before his flight out tomorrow, but it looked like that wasn't going to be in the cards this time.
For the last two hours he'd watched a number of women with big breasts and dead eyes take off their costumes a piece at a time to rap songs and rock ballads, and even though the other dozen or so men had enthusiastically helped pay the dancers rent, not one of the strippers had made his dick hard. He'd actually gotten his phone out to call a cab when a girl that actually caught his attention finally came on stage.
"Alright ladies and gentlemen - give it up for the one, the only - SATIVA!" the DJ blasted across the speakers before some pop song he didn't recognize drowned out the weak smattering of applause the audience had offered up. Halfway through her first set he could see that she was the one, even if the other guys here seemed less than interested. In this case it was easy to understand the difference of opinions. Once her top came it became apparent that she had only a very modest rack. They were maybe a B cup or a C cup. It was hard to say from here, but considering all of the other dancers had been D cup or larger tonight it was clear that the audience had a preference and it wasn't her. That suited Gary just fine. He suffered through two more songs before she got off stage giving him time to study her body before she came around to reel some suckers in with lap dances.
"Want a dance Mister?" she asked when she finally reached his table while a red headed felicity danced on stage behind her. He could see she was expecting him to say no. He'd said no to so many of the performers tonight that they'd mostly stopped asking him an hour ago. That Sativa, or whatever her name was, had even bothered to try him knowing that, spoke to her desperation.
"That depends," he said after leaving her in suspense for a moment, "Do you dance in the private booths, or just out here where everyone can see?"
"I dance anywhere you can afford baby." She purred, trying to hide her surprise under a feigned interest in him. "It's not cheap though."
"Everything is cheap, if you've got enough money," he answered, letting that statement hang in the air for a moment. In truth he wasn't wealthy. Not by the standards of the real world. A couple million was nothing these days, but what he had was still enough to buy and sell every girl in the place without denting the limit on his Amex.
Sativa smiled, then took him by the hand and lead him back towards the darkly curtained booths by the stage. Like all the women he'd ever played this game with, she made a big show of it. Like he might be the one guy that managed to get lucky in a place like this. It was like the song said though - there was no sex in the champagne room. In a place like this there wasn't even a champagne room, there was just a spacious naugahyde bench for him to sit on his hands while the stripper flaunted her body in his face confident in the knowledge that he couldn't do anything about it.
"Here's for the dance," he said, offering her a couple fifties as he sat down, "and there's an extra hundred in it for you if you let me get a little handsy during your performance," he offered before sitting on his hands like a good boy.
"Keep the money," she said after thinking about it for long enough to show that she was interested, "and keep your hands to yourself too," she added before she climbed onto his lap and started to sway to the rhythm of some Aerosmith song he was sure that he knew once upon a time.
Gary didn't press the issue and leaned back, enjoying the show. He watched her hips sway and her tits jiggle, and took in all the tiny imperfections that told the story of the sad life that had led her here. He looked past her fake smile and dirty blonde hair to the details that really mattered. He could see the track marks that were old enough to say that she'd been clean for years, and the stretch marks on her belly and breasts that said that she had at least one kid, but possibly two. The lean look of her face and her sad eyes told that life was harder than usual, and she wasn't eating enough. It was that sadness that made his dick hard as much as the way she ground her ass against him. Unlike the other jaded whores in this establishment there was a sweet young girl still buried deep inside Sativa, and Gary desperately wanted to take advantage of her.
He bided his time though, waiting for the third song to reach its crescendo so he could get his money's worth before he spoke again. "If I went for one more round you'd probably make more than you would the rest of the night, wouldn't you," he asked.
"The night's still young, unlike you." she answered, trying to casually swat away his advances, but he could see he'd struck a nerve.
"You'd make even more if you let me tip you like I mentioned earlier." he added, smiling.
