Two Do Ron-Ron 2: Party Doll
I'm Veronica, known to my go-go dancing public as Ron-Ron. I live with my boyfriend of over a year, David, in a beautiful old house in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco, in 1968.
A couple of months ago, David invited our college friend, Gabe, to fuck me while David watched. It escalated into some pretty serious bondage and double-teaming with Gabe and David, all three of us loving every minute of it. Then a third guy—my boss at the go-go club, Chet—was called in to also make use of me, the whole thing was filmed and I ended up pierced in twelve places. Quite a night.
We all thought it was a shame to waste the piercings and the fact that I had totally gotten off on all the dominance and bondage stuff—David said I'd never performed better—so once I healed up Chet started me dancing naked in the back room at his club, Sparks.
I get paid triple for dancing nude, so I wasn't unhappy in the slightest. Also I like to see men watching me naked, imagining what it would be like if they jumped up on the little stage and threw me on my back on the floor, if they mounted me against my will and got off on me in front of everybody. It makes me hot to think about it, and I dance better when I'm hot.
So it didn't totally surprise me when Chet came to me one night after closing. "I have a proposition for you, babe," he said, sitting down on the couch in the tiny dressing room as I toweled off after my shower. "You don't have to do it, but this is a personal request from one of my best longtime customers."
It turned out this guy wanted me to dance naked at his son's eighteenth birthday party, and there was a suggestion that I should be the kid's special present. He was a virgin, and his father thought he would be better initiated into sex by a pussy he knew was clean and safe and talented. He'd never fucked me himself, of course, but he was very familiar with my bare body from his nights at the club and I guess he liked what he saw it could do. Standing up, anyway.
Chet went on to say this guy would pay me a thousand dollars for the weekend, which was a month's salary at the club. Even after Chet's commission, it was still a ton of money, and David and I could really use it, so I said yes, sure.
"That's my girl," Chet smiled, and pinched my bare breast affectionately. "I'll drive you there Saturday afternoon and collect you Sunday night, and I'll also be at the party, so you won't be alone. This is a big deal for you, and I don't want you to get scared."
Meaning, basically, it was my first gig being paid to let someone fuck me, so maybe I'd be nervous. Well, I guessed I was now officially a hooker. But I didn't feel like one. "Just the kid, right?"
"Well, I got the impression his dad wants to try you out first," Chet said a little reluctantly. "Would that be a problem?"
"Not for me," I said, laughing. Over the past month, David had brought home a couple of guys from his stockbroker house, and he'd given them the use of me to sweeten a deal or two. One at a time, of course, on two separate occasions. I'd enjoyed it, and so had they, especially when David tied me to the bed in front of them and watched them enjoy me right back. So this time I was personally getting money for it, no difference.
The next weekend, Chet drove me to a gorgeous estate in the Sea Cliff section of San Francisco, big fancy houses on big plots of land right by the Golden Gate bridge, very exclusive and expensive. As requested by the guy who had hired me, I was wearing a knee-length fox fur coat he'd supplied, my own thigh high boots, and nothing else except a black leather collar and all my piercings, including the labia clip with tiny bells on. My blond hair was loose as usual and falling to my ass.
As I got out of the car, I felt the cold sea air on my bare pussy, and hurried after Chet, who rang the front doorbell and at the same time attached a leash to my collar. "He wanted me to deliver you like this," he said, half apologetically, and I smiled, though I was shivering a little, and not from the sea air.
"Hey, I'm just the present," I said, and felt a thrill: I was an object, a piece of property; I was merchandise being delivered to its owner—a temporary owner, but still I was bought and paid for, and I liked the feeling.
The door was opened by a tall man I recognized instantly from the club, Jack. He was about forty and at least six-four, dark-haired, green-eyed, not classically handsome but ruggedly attractive. As Chet put the leash in his hand, I felt another thrill shoot through me; I felt small and female and helpless in the power of men, and both of them saw it.
"I'll be back later for the party," said Chet, "Enjoy her." Jack smiled and nodded, then he tugged on the leash and led me inside.
I followed him downstairs to a room that had obviously been carefully prepared. Soundproof, no windows, with a huge fur-covered bed in the center of the floor, and various posts and rings and hooks scattered around the walls and floor and ceiling, even a small cage set into the far wall, a few strange-looking pieces of apparatus, of wood and black leather.
"Kneel," he said, and I went immediately to my knees. "I take it Chet explained what the deal is?"
"Sort of," I admitted. "He said you wanted me to dance nude at your son's party, and be his birthday present after you had tried me out?"
"Sort of," he smiled. "Oh, by the way, tonight you address every man here as 'Master'. Now take off the coat."
I slipped the beautiful soft red fox off my shoulders and knelt there naked except for the boots and collar and leash. He walked completely around me, studying me, and I held myself very still and well postured, shoulders back to show off my tits, back arched to show off my well-rounded heart-shaped ass, all my steel shining in the warm lamplight.
"Very, very nice," he said then. "On the bed."
