Thursday morning, it was all Azalea could do to leave her apartment and start her day. Even once she was ready to head out, she debated with herself for a good half hour whether it was safe to take on her day. So far, she had survived, but there had been some terrifyingly close calls, and it was only a matter of time until something disastrous happened, something that could ruin her life or her reputation.
She lifted up her shirt and made one more effort to wrench the shields off her nipples. She grabbed the chains and tugged hard. She pulled until it hurt, and then pulled even harder. She screamed and cursed at them as if they could hear her. But no matter what she did, they maintained their impossibly strong grip on her flesh
But in the end, there was one fear even greater than the fear of humiliation or worse caused by the cursed shields. It was the fear of letting her life fall apart, the same fear of failure, of missed opportunities that had motivated her all her adult life to always be doing something productive. The fear of returning to the poverty she had come from. Sometimes her extreme drive to excel came at the cost of her sanity, but this time the reverse was true. Today, her sanity depended on going out there and doing whatever she could to hold on to everything she had worked so hard for up to this point. Both options scared her, but if her life was going to fall apart, she would prefer that it be for her taking risks, not for her refusal to take them. If she was going to fall, it was better do go down fighting.
As a matter of fact, the day started off extremely well. The shields didn't bother her in class. They only started vibrating during her lunch break, when she had an hour and a half to run back to her apartment. Her workout went similarly well. Her arms and shoulders still were still painful from being forced to over-exert herself on the pull-up bar the other day, but that was the worst problem she faced. Nobody leered at her or tried to sexually harass her. Shortly before the evening class she TA'ed for, a kid she didn't recognize, almost certainly an undergrad, professed his love for her, but that was more comical than threatening. She was feeling generous and rejected him gently, wishing him the best of luck.
Later that evening, as she was preparing to dance at Vaqueras, was when disaster struck.
Thursday night was usually a slow night, but she showed up early to practice her moves and warm up. There were only a few other people at the club when she showed up, and she had the practice room all to herself. This was wonderful, because sometimes pole dancing was one of the best ways to clear her mind, especially without the crowd to worry about. Sometimes it could be a harder workout that CrossFit or Krav, especially when it was done right. Pole dancing had the added benefit that she could throw her clothing off as she pleased.
Today, though, she didn't feel like bothering with clothes at all, so she took off her street clothes right there, folded them neatly, and started her routine fully nude, except, of course, for the pasties.
She had been practicing for maybe ten or fifteen minutes. This was a long time to be pole dancing, even for someone as athletic as her, however she had been so deep in her thoughts that she hardly noticed the exertion. There was something therapeutic about it.
While holding onto the pole with one hand, Azalea kicked one leg high up into the air, and landed her heel on the pole high above her head. She grabbed the pole with her other hand on the opposite side of her upturned leg, and pulled herself closer. As she pulled her hips toward the pole, her legs spread 180 degrees in a vertical split.
She held the stretch for a few seconds, then brought her leg down to switch sides.
But as soon as she started to move, she felt a sudden tug on her pussy lips! She gasped in surprise, and froze with her let still half raised in the air, instantly detecting something was very wrong! Both hands clutched the pole in a white-knuckled grip for support. In this position, it was hard to look down to see what was going on with her lips. Ever so slowly, she started to lower her leg again. As soon as she tried to move her hips away from the pole, she felt that tug increase sharply! It felt like her pussy was stuck to the pole!
"Whoa!" she gasped, and stopped her movement again before she tore something! Her right knee was raised, still mostly alongside the pole.
She took a few breaths, trying to keep herself from panicking so she could act reasonably. First, she needed to see what in the world was going on down there. She made sure she had a very good grip on the pole with both hands, and pulled her hips straight back as far as she dared. She sucked in her tummy and looked down at vagina. Even despite all the crazy things that had happened to her over the last week, she could barely believe the sight! Both her labia majora appeared to be stuck fast to the smooth, metal surface of the pole, stretching out like chewed gum as she tried to pull away from it!
"Shit! Shit! No, no, no, no, NO! God... DAMMIT!" she cursed through clenched teeth. "What the fuck is it now?"
Horrified, Azalea gave a few more, desperate tugs. Each pull stretched her lips to the max, but those folds of skin continued to cling impossibly to the stripper pole. There was no way this should have been happening! There had been nothing sticky on the pole or herself that could have done this. It was like the same inexplicable force that kept the pasties glued to her tits.
Was the curse spreading to other parts of her body now? This seemed like a repeat of the pullup incident from a couple days ago. But if that was so, did that mean she would come unstuck once she wasn't able to hold the position anymore?
She didn't want to wait to see how long she could stay like this. Right now, at least one of her feet was solidly on the ground, although her other leg felt like it was going to start cramping if she didn't find some sort of rest for it. She made one more attempt to lower her leg to the floor. She was more successful than she expected. She had to lean back a little bit, but if she stood on the ball of her left foot, she found she was able to touch the floor with her right. It wasn't the most comfortable standing position. She was forced to stay on the balls of both feet, and her hips had to stay rocked at an awkward angle to keep her vagina facing somewhat forward, but at least it was something she felt she could hold for a good while without problems. The stretchiness of her large lips at least allowed for some freedom of movement.
Great, now what? She tried to think of how she was going to get out of this one, but all she could think of was to keep pulling. So, pull was what she did. One tug after another, she yanked her hips back away from the pole again and again, desperately struggling to pull her vagina off the pole. As her struggle continued, she dared to yank harder and harder, and her lips seemed to stretch farther and farther each time. But no matter how hard she pulled, nothing gave.
After ten minutes of hopeless struggling, she was still stuck fast. This had to be the pasties' doing; there was no other possible explanation. What if this was permanent? Having a couple pieces of metal attached to her body for the rest of her life was bad enough, but the thought of this being irreversible was too horrible to even consider!
Suddenly the door to the practice room opened. Terrified, Azalea pulled herself toward the pole to hide what was going on and looked to see who it was. Thankfully, it was Dakota. Being seen like this by anyone at all would have been humiliating, but if it had to be someone, it might as well be her best friend. There would be no hiding this one, not this time.
"Dakota! Thank God! Shut the door! Shut the door! Lock it!"
"What? What's going on?" she asked, but complied, locking the door shut behind her.
"I'm..." Azalea began, but paused. This was going to sound so stupid no matter how she began! But she didn't see herself getting out of this one without help, so she might as well bite the bullet and do what she needed to do.
If it was going to sound stupid no matter what, then she could at least stop worrying about where to begin. She took a deep breath, and started talking.
"I'm stuck to the pole," she admitted, her voice practically dripping with humiliation.
Dakota's eyebrows raised in confusion. "What? How?"
Though it took all of her willpower, Azalea pulled her hips back to show her friend how she was stuck. Dakota's mouth dropped open in horror!
"Oh, shit! How did you manage that?" Her face had noticeably turned several shades whiter in shock.
"I was doing the vertical splits, and... this... happened. My lips won't come off the pole!" She gave a few mighty tugs to demonstrate, stretching her lips out a good two or three inches.
"Oh my God, stop pulling so hard! You're going to rip something! Here, let me see."
Azalea forced herself to calm down while Dakota knelt down next to her to see the problem up close.
"Sorry, I'm going to have to get a little close here. Let me know if you get uncomfortable, and I'll back off. Oh, Jesus Christ, you poor girl! Is it okay if I touch your lips?. I just washed my hands; I promise they're clean. Maybe I can peel you loose."
"Yeah, do what you need to do," she muttered, defeated.
Dakota started playing with Azalea's lips, trying to see if she could figure anything out. She gave a few gentle tugs.
"Wow, your skin's really stuck! All four lips, it looks like: outer and inner. Does it hurt at all?"
"No."
"Okay. Let me know if it does. Or if you want me to stop for any other reason."
She concentrated closely on Azalea's fused skin. She massaged the skin, seeing if she could peel it off the metal. She pinched one corner of skin and tugged. When it didn't budge, the tried the other outer lip. When that didn't work, she pushed the outer lips apart and tried to work the inner ones free. She worked that way for several minutes, testing every inch of where her skin clung to the metal. Nothing gave. Nothing at all!
In the midst of Dakota's tinkering, she got her face so close that Azalea could feel her gentle breathing on her lips. That, combined with Dakota's gentle tugging and massaging was really starting to have an effect on her. The shields had made her unusually sensitive as it was, and this was the first time in a while anyone's fingers besides her own had touched her there. But most of all, even though what Dakota was doing wasn't even meant to be sexual, her touch was gentler and more caring than any of the men she had ever been with. Before she could even stop it, a sensual sigh escaped her throat.
"You okay?"
"Oh God, I'm so sorry!"
"It's okay, don't feel bad. Not your fault. Just let me know if I do anything to make you uncomfortable, and I'll stop."
"Dakota, I'll tell you! Don't worry!"
Dakota tried for another minute or two, but after trying everything she could think of, Azalea's skin hadn't even begun to peel free.
"Fuck, you're on there good! Maybe we could try something else. I have some nail polish remover in my purse. I suppose that might loosen... whatever is sticking you there. Say, do you have any idea how this happened, do you?"
Azalea sighed, trying to think of how she could possibly explain something that should have been impossible.
