Whatever They Want

Author's Note: This was requested by one of my readers. Read the tags before continuing.

*****

The pole was icy against her skin. It cut through the skimpy clothes she wore like a dart through paper, defeating the purpose of her thong and bikini top, but still she kept moving. Her arms slid along the metal, down her body, across the arc of her hips, then back up again. Slips of green floated toward her, some fell short of the tiny stage. She sank to grab them, another part of her routine, and returned to her dance.

Lily cupped her waifish chest once more. She squeezed the supple, but meagre flesh to invigorate her adoring crowd, who tossed dollar bills to her for the show. Fewer than she would have liked, but complaints were for later. She traced her hands across her lithe form and to her head, drawing attention to her Asian features, the subtle curve to her eyes, the pallid skin and her luxuriously coated rose red lips. Some cheered as she sucked on a finger and slid down the pole.

Calling it a dance was generous. All she did was play to their most basic desires. The lust to stare at a woman, whether they sported pants-staining curves like those before her or not, as they danced along a pole for their arousal. Some had their trousers lowered, hands either buried between their thighs or stroking their own pole in a poor replica of her routine. Lily glanced to her tips for the evening. Time to up the ante.

She turned and poked her hips out as she hooked her fingers in the string of her thong. It clung to her skin like paint, sank between her round cheeks and pressed flush against her pussy. Cheers erupted, some shouted for her to hurry up, others stayed quiet and observed, mesmerised. Her delicate labia peaked out from her thighs. They glistened under the lights trained on her.

More bills littered the stage. Her time was almost up. No sense in holding back.

Lily kicked off the garment and raised it high as she sauntered to the front. She waved it around, teasing the perverts who wanted to smell her. Salty rivulets rolled across her skin, more so around her crotch. They knew it. They wanted it. Dollars flew, some stuck to her sweaty form. She didn't care. Money was money.

Someone tossed a hundred at her. She traced it back and tossed her garment to the bidder, before winking to the losers. No talking on stage, only dance and expression. No one wanted to hear a dancer. Lily turned once more and dropped to the ground, arching her back and pressing her crotch flush to the stage. Her legs curved and accentuated the faint fat on her thighs, pushing against her ass.

"Alright folks! Looks like time's almost up for Thorny Lily!" The DJ announced. Lily blinked as the track slowly died, urging her to do something big, something that would leave an impression. She had something for this. Lily approached the precipice and squatted down. Anyone facing her could see every fold of her fresh-shaved cunt. Two fingers stroked along her snatch, pointing to her ass. She fell back and raised her groin high, pulled her ass cheeks apart and grasped the broad plug buried inside.

Soft moans spread throughout as her audience watched the shameless display. The average strip club would offer a dance, perhaps a hint of pussy in the form of a tuft of hair, but not The Devil's Shakes. Not here in Lilith's Row. If she wished to take someone on stage, Lily could do so. She could fuck in front of all these people.

Her own sigh of desire joined the choir as she spread her hole wide. It opened with ease, revealing inch after inch of the fist-sized toy, its black surface glossy with lube. Six inches of rubber slid free before, with a loud pop, a second ball, thicker than the first, came free. She rolled onto her knees and displayed her gaping anus to the crowd. Several grunted as they came. A splatter of warmth landed on her skin. She ignored the cum and stood, tiny bra stuffed to bursting with money.

Once backstage, she slid into her makeup chair and set her earnings down. They didn't make hourly, but their dances usually made up for it. The problem, however, stared her in the face as she counted her small pile. Next to her, Shana, the most popular dancer, had finished doing so and had several stacks up to her voluptuous breasts. She turned and smiled, before sliding the bills into her bag.

Lily watched her go, captivated just as the patrons had been when Shana had danced earlier. The blame didn't lie solely with her. Shana sported curves to spare, a partial benefit of her Jamaican heritage and sheer dumb luck. She vanished out the door, ass sashaying as she did so. Everything that woman did was erotic, not though effort or intent, and made her the envy and desire of all. Despite that, she never seemed satisfied.

Whatever, Lily decided and went about her own preparations to leave. She gave a cut of her earnings to the house, dressed, a halter top and skin-tight yoga pants, and counted her money again for good measure. It was the middle of the month, when other people still had plenty of their own income saved up. Next week would be worse, and the week after horrific.

Except for Shana. She would make close to the same amount. Everyone came and stayed for her, threw they savings to her, drooled over her. And Lily was one of those people. She may not toss away her cash for the entrancing dancer, but she wouldn't have stayed this long if not for her. Memories of a night they spent together paraded into her thoughts. She grinned to her reflection.

Tonight called for some company. Lily scanned the room, lingering on each girl before giving up. Most were new and exhausted after their own dances. She and Shana were often the closers, mostly to give the newcomers a chance to earn something. The stripper stood and exited, waving goodbye. Most of her colleagues wouldn't be back tomorrow, having experienced how tiring this job could be. Those that stuck to it, though, reaped some impressive benefits.

Lily's heels clicked through the street. Hordes of others strolled by her, they stared and flirted, but went ignored. A few bumped into and felt her up. Another day in Lilith's Row, she thought. A few blocks from The Devil's Shakes, she found her go-to bar; Boozing Bunnies. A tourist, though rare, would assume it was a strip club.

The centre of the room was dominated by a stage with a pole. Girls took turns swinging from, dressed exclusively in bunny girl outfits. All were well-endowed, some almost popping out from their uniforms. Lily went straight for the bar. An older woman tended it, her clothes ill-suited for her MILF figure. Overused laugh lines framed her gorgeous, plump lips and were shadowed by her long silver locks that led into her body, a temple to curves if Lily ever saw one.

"Tough night, hon?" Margaret, the bartender, asked as she handed Lily a beer. She didn't care what kind. Alcohol all tasted the same to her; like bitter bubbles popping across her taste buds. But she appreciated the way it heated her guts.

"Not really. Just looking for some company tonight," Lily said.

"I know that face," Margaret chuckled, "Not very good tips?"

"They're fine. But Shana's still raking it all in," Lily said and shrugged, "Nothing I can do about that though. You and I both know she's irresistible."

"Yeah," Margaret sighed and leaned over, breasts resting heavily on the bar, "I get off in about half an hour. I can keep you company if you'd like?"

"I would," Lily said and moved in for a quick peck on the lips, "Still got that big fucker?" She referred to a strap-on easily a foot in length, and with the girth to match. Her pussy had ached the whole day after Margaret last used it on her, but she adored the sensation.

"Oh, yes. And he's got a big brother now. Horse shaped too."

"Careful, I might make a mess of your barstool."

"Go ahead, I'll make you lick it clean. God knows how many pussies have leaked onto them."

"Hmm, go on," Lily said. Her tongue traced her lips at the fantasy. She pictured it clear as the MILF stood before her. Margaret would have her kneeling here, licking the filthy leather stood until it glistened in her saliva, all the while pressing down on her lower back, forcing her to take a huge dildo up her cunt and keep her ass out, its own hole stretching wider and wider as Margaret pumped her fuller. A trickle of heat escaped onto her thighs. She rubbed them together, hopeful that the barkeep would notice and take pity on her.

Margaret did. Her eyes glanced to the stripper's clear desire, "Here," she said and pulled out an exotic shaped phallus from beneath the bar. It was ribbed and had a line of spines along its top. A knot bulged at its base, where a suction cup laid. Lily stood and applied it to her stool. She tore a hole in the crotch of her pants and sat, moaning as she was filled. People glanced her way, but thought nothing of it. If they did, they found it hot to see a glimpse of her ass through the tear.

"Now stay there. Don't cum. Every time you do, I'm gonna punish you," Margaret said. Her kind demeanour mutated into a warm, malicious smirk, one that promised she would enjoy the punishment as much as Lily would. The slender stripper ground into the toy, savouring how it pressed on her walls like a skilled lover's fingers. The spines and ribs soon put her on edge. Did she dare disobey Margaret? The bartender was watching her intently, already aware of the answer.

Lily arched her back and leaned forward as she moaned in the first pulse of bliss of that night. As she came down, Margaret beamed at her and pulled the girl's chin up, "Good girl." Lily only grinned back as she was released and left to stew in her pleasure, while Margaret continued with her job.

Once she left, a hooded patron took a space beside Lily. The two exchanged a smile but said nothing as Lily rolled her hips, cooing under her breath. A hand clasped her rear. She looked to its owner and saw the hooded figure, who sucked their teeth in disappointment.

"Such a shame," they said. A feminine voice, one higher than anything Lily had heard. She almost sounded like a bimbo, yet her tone carried an intelligence no self-debasing bimbo would have, "You're so eager to please, but have so little to do it with. I can help you there."

"You, hmm, you can?" Lily asked. The woman continued to grope her ass, skilled fingers playing her slight fat like a piano, eliciting soft but beautiful sounds from Lily's mouth.

"Yes." They placed a vial on the bar and slid it over. It was small, no larger than a soda can, but made of crystal so thick it left little room for the dazzling blue fluid at its core. There couldn't be more than a mouthful there.

"Drink this," the woman said, "And you'll be what everyone wants you to be."

"And what's that?" Lily asked, she yelped as the stranger sank her fingers into the rip of her pants, down her ass and curled a digit past her sphincter. A slight burn leaked through her delight, the sign and promise of deeper, thicker penetration. The stranger pressed to the third knuckle and wriggled, manipulating her well-trained walls with delicious dexterity. Another finger poked at her hole, pushed in and moved opposite the other. Lily moaned and pressed her ass out further.

"You'll see." The stranger pulled their fingers free, leaving Lily's hole woefully empty. She whined in need of more, but they had already left. Margaret was busy with a customer trying, and failing to describe the drink they wanted. She was alone with the mysterious vial.

"What everyone wants me to be, huh?" Lily mused aloud and reached between her thighs with one hand, the other grabbed the vile, "That includes me, I suppose." The rent for that month was looking rough. If her prediction for the next two weeks was correct, she would barely make it. And the landlord wasn't one for sexual favours over financial gain. She needed a booster. Something to steal the highlight from Shana.

Something that would put her on a level field at least. Lily glanced to her breasts, down past her honed stomach and to her lithe hips, which were a couple inches shy of her shoulders. Unlike Shana's, who had the opposite. A plump, cushy belly that pressed her chest out and moulded into her stunning sides. Lily pressed harder into the dildo, moaning as she envisioned cupping and kissing that body. With her own curvaceous form.

What harm could it do? Lilith's Row was full of shady people, but they were, at worst, criminal perverts. And that stranger seemed genuinely disappointed by Lily's lacklustre figure. Suppose it worked, she would become the woman of her dreams. If it didn't, then what? She could die, but that seemed unlikely. No one in Lilith's Row killed. They were too busy fucking to do so.

She contemplated the extravagant vial, then shrugged and chugged it as she toyed with her clit. The taste was worse than the beer, but her pleasure overshadowed it. Coolness spread through her, as if pushing out the alcohol in her system, before letting it flood back in. Lily swayed and fell against the bar, her pussy clenched and milked the fake cock. Part of her wished it was real. Her snatch would be a creamy mess by then if it was.

"Had a little much?" Margaret asked.

"Huh?" Lily looked up and to her bottle, found it near empty, then searched for the vial, which was nowhere to be found. Did she pass out?

"While I prefer a sober girl, you could really use some relief," Margaret said.

"Hmm, yeah," Lily sighed, wriggling her hips, and the ribbed dildo inside her. She took a look around. The bar was empty, save her, Margaret and the occasional employee cleaning up.

"Come."

Lily did. Again and again that night. She was a plaything to Margaret's desires, assuming any position she demanded of her, taking any cock she pulled out, eating her cunt until Lily's jaw ached. Tight ropes and chains left marks on her flesh. Red welts lined parts of her back and much of her ass, conspicuous against her pale skin. A collar dug into her neck, attached to a leash that was tied to the bed post.

When she woke that morning, to the smell of a bacon omelette, she still wore the collar. Her body ached and parts of it stung from the leftover abuse, all of it consensual. She rubbed along her naked form, savouring the marks left by Mistress. Margaret, she corrected. Outside of sex, the barkeep was just Margaret. A good friend.

"Hey there," Margaret said as she entered, a tray with a plate and glass of orange juice on it, "Looking sexy."

Lily blew a tuft of hair from her face. It was grimy from sweat and cunt juice, the scents mixed together to create her ideal perfume, though not one she could wear outside.

"Glad you think so," Lily said, tracing a red line over her ass. It wouldn't heal for another day or so. A couple of love bites dotted her shoulders and chest as well. Her nipples were red and swollen. Rope lines coiled around the base of her petite chest.

"Will you be okay for work today?" Margaret asked, setting the tray on the bed. Lily went for it, but was jerked back by the leash still on her neck. She looked to the bartender and whimpered, pouting as a dog might, "Oh, all right." The leash was unlatched.

"Thanks," Lily said and dug in, "I'll be fine. It's not for several hours anyway."

"Honey, it's four o'clock. In the afternoon."

"Oh, shit," Lily groaned. She'd hoped to have a chance to rest, relax and recover for work. A long, luxurious bath would certainly help, "I've done it after worse."

"Really now?" Margaret slid into bed beside her. Lily snuggled in close as she ate, inhaling the mouth watering aroma of sex and food that permeated the bedroom.

"Yeah. I once danced after a bunch of guys hammered me. I was dripping cum all over the stage. Made some good money, but most of it got covered."

"So, what you're saying is I can do whatever I want to you, and you'll just go on?" Margaret asked, smirking mischievously.

"Yes."

That night, she walked out on stage after Shana, covered in writing. A single strip of leather covered her nipples and a mini-skirt, one so short it almost didn't qualify as clothing, leaving the fresh dried black ink on her skin obvious for all. 'I'm your whore. I'll do anything. Cum in here. Jizz vacuum. Use me.' All the lines followed a similar vein. Arrows accompanied some, pointing to her ass and pussy, both of which still pulsed in the aftermath of last night. How hard did Margaret go, rather, how hard did Lily ask her to go?

The crowd cheered as she entered her routine. It was stiffer than before, a repercussion of last night and an earlier session, but her attire did the work. Little was left to the imagination, but enough that money was thrown her way to take it all off. She removed her puny skirt and made sure to show off the marks Margaret had left her.

They loved it. The scribblings weren't simply for show, the marks told them, she truly was a whore. Free to be taken however they wanted. Lily looked out at the patrons. All ears were on her, enraptured by the slut she announced herself to be. Not uncommon, but even in this part of the city, few women went so far. She was their fantasy, except for a simple thing. Her body.

If only it was curvier. If only her tits were the size of melons. If only her ass was like a cushion all its own. If only her hips made doors tricky for her. If only...

When did she start sweating so much? The ink smeared as thick, salty beads trekked across her skin. It was warm under the stage light, and being surrounded by dozens of horny men and women didn't help, but she hadn't experienced it to such a degree. Her body was hot, like she was sick, but still she danced.

The heat turned to a fire in her chest. Not painful, though, closer to a fireplace in the winter. All she wanted was to curl up with it, let the world fall away and enjoy the tranquillity. It spread to her hips, and seemed to pool within her ass cheeks, as if the warmth sought her curves. Her arms and legs continued to move, unaffected, in graceful arcs and curves to entice the eye and libido. The strap around her chest constrained her as she panted.

Her dance must be over soon, she thought with a glance to the DJ. Something was wrong. She sank to the ground, back arched high as if in the throes of climax. She spun around and presented her cunt to her audience, one leg raised. Lily reached down and spread her plump lips.

"Finger it!" Someone cheered. Others took up the chant. Were they encouraging her? No, it was an order. She caught some eyes. They didn't care about her desire at that moment, only that she fulfilled theirs. She slid inside her sopping canal.

Dancing exhilarated her on most nights. Exposing herself to strangers, watching them masturbate to her, lust after a body they thought they couldn't have, it all sent trills down her pussy. But this was on another level. A faint squelch broke above the cheers around her, as her cunt dripped with lust. Her walls were tight around her fingers, almost conforming to them.

Everyone was quiet for a moment.

"Fist it!" Someone, possibly the same person as before, shouted. Lily tried to find them among the crowd, but they were lost in a sea of faces, all enraptured by the sight of her. The burn in her chest persisted, stronger now. The stage didn't feel as flat anymore. Was she that out of it?

Did she care? No. She had craved this level of adoration for so long, to be the centre of attention, of the same level as Shana. Lily stretched her delicate folds wider, slipping another finger inside, one after the other, until her thumb folded in and, with a deep groan of pleasure and effort, it went in. Her snatch had turned white from the strain, its lips thin and taut around her wrist. This wasn't the first fist inside her, but one of the most erotic. Even for Lilith's Row.

A portion of a much larger city, Lilith's Row is the den for every type of pervert around. Tentacle fetishists, futanari, pregnancies, feet, prolapse, even shit - though Lily steered clear of those - were accepted here. More so, no one cared what you do in public. So long as it doesn't hurt them or destroy something, it's fine. Sometimes an outsider cop would do a patrol and try to keep some level of order, but they always gave up in the end.