Chastity Belt
Shoshanna Evers
Georgia Hearn has found the perfect way to make easy cash—performing an interactive BDSM-flavored stage show at the exclusive Gentlemen’s Club. When handsome GC client Jonathan Syler goes up onstage and locks her into a chastity belt, it’s all supposed to be part of the fun. But Jonathan makes it clear he won’t be unlocking her anytime soon.
Now she’s at his mercy—and has no choice but to see him again, since he holds the key to her pleasure. Literally.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Chastity Belt
ISBN 9781419933554
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Chastity Belt Copyright © 2011 Shoshanna Evers
Edited by Jillian Bell
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication April 2011
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Chastity Belt
Shoshanna Evers
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Armani: GA Modefine S.A. Corporation
BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengesellschaft
Diet Pepsi: Pepsico, Inc.
MetroCard: Metropolitan Transportation Authority
Miss Manners: United Feature Syndicate, Inc.
Chapter One
Georgia Hearn sat at the corner table in the sandwich shop and sipped her Diet Pepsi. She had refilled the damn thing so many times she was amazed that they hadn’t kicked her out yet. Making use of the free wi-fi, she stared at her laptop as if it might give her the answer to her prayers. Well, it might, right?
She typed “make money fast” into her search bar and sighed. She probably typed that in at least once a week. All it ever got her was a bunch of scams, several of which she had gamely fallen for. Getting paid to fill out surveys? Check. Run an easy, no-work-involved online store? Check. Stuffing envelopes at home? Assembling crafts? Double check. Or in her case, no check. No money.
Georgia closed her laptop, put her head in her hands and let her blonde hair fall over her face. What was the point? She was broke. Wishing that weren’t the case wasn’t going to help her situation. She needed money—now. She’d been buying groceries on her credit card and that was now officially maxed out. Forget paying rent this month. She shouldn’t even have agreed to meet her girlfriend Casey for lunch, not when she knew she’d have to pretend she just ate so Casey wouldn’t feel bad for her.
“Georgia?”
Georgia pulled her head out of her hands and jumped up to see Casey smiling at her. “Hey there!” Georgia gave Casey a quick hug and sat back down. “Go order your lunch, I was starving so I already ate,” she lied.
Casey rolled her eyes. “Little Miss Manners? I doubt it. Don’t worry about it, lunch is on me.”
Georgia laughed. Casey knew her way too well sometimes. They had been friends since high school and even now that they were both twenty-two and didn’t see each other all the time anymore, Casey still knew the way Georgia’s brain worked. “Casey, I can’t take your money.”
Casey pulled out her wallet and quickly flashed it Georgia’s way. Holy shit. The girl had cash. Lots of it. “Yeah, you can,” Casey said.
“What the hell are you into, Case?”
Casey laughed and bought them sandwiches before coming back and sitting across from Georgia. “This is nothing. I made five hundred bucks last night in two hours.”
“No way.”
“Yes way. I can get you a gig too, you know.”
Georgia’s stomach fluttered at the idea of having five hundred bucks in two hours. She started doing the math in her head. If she could do whatever Casey had done every day of the week, she’d have $10,000 in a month, and in a year she’d be pulling in six figures. “Are you stripping again? Because you know I have the rhythm of someone having an epileptic fit.”
“No dancing.” Casey sipped her soda primly and grinned.
“So what did you do?” Georgia looked at the devilish glint in her friend’s eyes and gasped. “Tell me you are not…an escort!”
“I am not an escort. I work at a club.”
“Doing what?” Georgia took a bite of the sandwich Casey handed her. Delicious.
“It’s a gentleman’s club for men who like things not so gentle, if you catch my drift.”
“Uh, no, actually I don’t. What are you talking about?”
Casey laughed. “I get paid to play with them and to let them play with me. Sometimes I put on a show where I’ll get spanked or whipped in front of them, and if they like what they see I get tipped very, very well. The more stuff I do, the more money I make.”
Georgia’s mouth dropped open. “What did you do last night to make five hundred dollars?”
Casey finished the food that was in her mouth before responding. “I rode the wooden pony for an hour.”
“And the second hour?”
“I just lay on my back with my legs tied open so they could all see my bruised pussy and they walked by me and put money on my belly. Twenties and fifties, even.”
Georgia nodded. She was used to Casey’s outrageous stories. The girl was not shy, that was for sure. “Wow. So what’s that mean, you rode the wooden pony?”
Casey laughed. “It was awful. I’m so sore, that’s why I need you to cover for me tonight.”
“Cover for you? Tonight? Wait, why are you sore?” If it was so awful, why was Casey laughing?
“Imagine straddling a bar in such a way that all your weight falls on your pussy and you can only reposition yourself a little bit each time you go up on your tippy toes and come back down on your pussy again. Up and down, up and down, that’s the ride. It starts getting pretty painful, so the longer I stay on the more money I make.”
Georgia laughed. “You got paid just to sit there for an hour?”
“Hey, it wasn’t like I didn’t earn it. Just try it yourself, you’ll see.”
“Gladly. I could use some easy money,” Georgia said.
“Tonight you won’t have to do anything that difficult. They don’t usually put on the same show two nights in a row. I’m just so sore I really need a night off. So will you really do it? You’ll cover for me?”
“Absolutely.” Georgia smiled at her friend. Things were looking up.
* * * * *
Georgia tugged at the short black leather skirt she had borrowed from Casey’s closet and went up to the large man standing outside the very ordinary-looking storefront. Must be the bouncer. But this place didn’t look like any of t
he clubs she’d ever been to. It seemed so…sedate. After the bouncer looked her up and down, he wordlessly opened the large door and stepped aside. No loud pulsating music blasted out of the club. There was some music, but it was soft, like the ambient stuff they played in elevators in fancy hotels. She walked into a lounge-type area where a bunch of men in expensive suits were sitting around on couches and recliners. Some were smoking cigars. She walked past them, past the bar and the bartender to the back room, just like Casey told her to do. She knocked.
The door swung open and an attractive woman in her forties smiled and gestured for her to come into the office. It looked like Georgia always imagined a hotshot lawyer’s office would look. Leather chairs, lots of mahogany, that sort of thing.
“I’m Mary Ann,” the woman said as she shook Georgia’s hand. “You must be Casey’s friend.”
“Yes ma’am,” Georgia said. “Nice to meet you.”
Mary Ann sat down in one of the big leather chairs and said, “Casey said you’ve never worked at an establishment like GC.”
“GC?”
“Gentlemen’s Club, of course,” Mary Ann said. “We call it GC.”
“Oh.” Georgia smiled nervously. “I may not have experience, but I’m a very hard worker, ma’am.”
“You don’t need to call me ma’am. Mary Ann will do just fine. Tonight we have a very simple, interactive performance for our clients. I’ll be very straight with you and if you’re not interested, now’s the time to let me know.”
“Okay. Mary Ann.”
“All you have to do is lie on a platform with your legs tied open and let our clients perform cunnilingus on you.”
“Cunnilingus?”
“Oral sex.”
“Oh, you mean they’re going to eat me out?” Georgia raised her eyebrows. That didn’t seem like a performance really. “What’s the performance part of it?”
“That’s it. The other clients like to watch a pretty young woman being pleasured. It’s all very sanitary, if that’s what you’re worried about. We keep a roll of plastic wrap next to you and each gentleman is required to use a fresh piece and keep that barrier between you and his mouth.”
Plastic wrap instead of nice, warm tongue? “Eww.” Georgia winced when she realized she’d said that aloud.
Mary Ann laughed. “You won’t even feel that it’s there. We pay you one hundred dollars for an hour of this, and whatever tips you earn on top of that are yours to keep. You can expect each gentleman to tip between ten and twenty dollars after he’s had his turn with you. Of course they are not required to tip anyone but they are, after all, gentlemen.”
“So I gather.” Georgia smiled. “I’m in.”
Mary Ann handed her a single typed piece of paper. “Just sign this and give me your driver’s license to photocopy for our records.”
Georgia signed the paper and dug into her little purse for her ID.
A man walked into the office and gave Mary Ann a kiss on the cheek before turning to Georgia and nodding. “So this is Casey’s friend Georgia, I gather.”
Georgia nodded and put her hand out to the man. “Hello, sir.”
“I’m Vincent, Mary Ann’s husband. We run GC. Geez, you look like a teenager.” He turned to his wife. “Did you check her ID?” When Mary Ann nodded, Vincent turned his attention back to Georgia. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Georgia hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. “What do I do?”
“Just follow me.” Vincent walked back out the office door and Georgia did as he said and followed him to a different part of the club. There was a stage and a bunch of tables, like a dinner theater setup. On the stage was a chair.
“You sit there, in that chair. When the gentlemen come in for the show, I’ll tell you to take off your clothes and you’ll strip onstage.”
“I-I’m not a stripper. I mean, I can’t dance or anything.”
“That’s fine, pretend you’re at home taking your clothes off for a lover. Just strip. Then I’ll ask you to sit down and I’ll get a volunteer from the audience to tie you up. You just have to follow directions. If at any point you are uncomfortable, say ‘umbrella’ and I’ll untie you and send you home. Of course, you wouldn’t have kept your half of the contract in that case, so you would forfeit your salary at that point.”
“Okay.”
“What’s the safeword? Say it.”
“Umbrella.”
“Good girl. Now just sit there and wait for a few minutes,” Vincent said. “We’ll be ready to start soon.”
* * * * *
Georgia sat on the chair trying to look out at the audience, but the spotlight on her practically blinded her. She could hear the men though, talking in deep voices, the ice clinking in their drinks, an occasional burst of laughter. She could smell cigar smoke. She thought smoking inside had been banned—apparently some laws didn’t apply here at GC.
Vincent came onstage next to her and grabbed a microphone. “Gentlemen, your attention please.”
Silence fell over the club. Georgia didn’t know what to do, she was so nervous. One hundred dollars for one hour. That’s what she needed to focus on. A hundred bucks plus tips. She smiled out at the audience even though she couldn’t see them past the bright spotlight.
Vincent came up behind her and put one large hand on her shoulder as he held the microphone in the other hand. “It is my pleasure to introduce the lovely Georgia to the Gentlemen’s Club. Sweet Georgia, please show these fine men that gorgeous body you have under all those clothes!” He stepped aside and gave her a go on now look.
Georgia stood on shaky knees and slowly pulled her low-cut V-neck blouse over her head, revealing her lacy black push-up bra. The men cheered and whistled. She blushed and grinned. No wonder Casey got off on stripping. She’d never had a man actually yell in delight and whistle when she undressed before.
She reached around behind her waist and unzipped the miniskirt she had borrowed from Casey. It was leather and it was tight, so she had to shimmy a bit to lower and then step out of it. The men actually started clapping. “Thank you, you’re so kind,” she said, laughing.
Vincent chuckled and spoke into the mic as she stood on the stage wearing nothing but her high heels, a black thong and her push-up bra. “Can I get a volunteer to cuff Sweet Georgia to the chair, gentlemen?”
She didn’t know how Vincent could see past the spotlight that was so blinding to her, but maybe he was just used to it. He pointed to someone sitting at one of the tables. “Jonathan Syler, I do believe it’s your turn, sir.”
Everyone clapped, which she assumed meant that Jonathan Syler had left his table to join them onstage. She couldn’t make out anything happening in the audience, but then the man came around to the side of the stage. The lighting hid his face, but she could see his form. He was huge—six foot three at least, with shoulders like a football player. Georgia watched with interest as he stepped up the stairs. He was wearing an expensive-looking suit. Maybe he’d just gotten off work and swung by the club on his way home?
When the man stood next to her, she had to crane her neck up to look at him properly. He was gorgeous! He didn’t smile at her though, which was a bit disconcerting, just looked at her with deep brown eyes and carefully took off his jacket. Vincent took it from him, holding it folded over his arm.
“Take off your bra,” the man said. His voice was low, commanding. How old was he? Thirties, maybe? He didn’t look like any of the frat boys Georgia had dated in the past, that was for sure. He looked like…a man. Georgia felt a frisson of awareness in her body as she slowly followed his direction. He nodded his approval when she dropped the bra on the floor of the stage. The men in the audience cheered.
“Very nice, Georgia,” he said. He was talking quietly, for only her to hear. “Now take off your panties.”
Georgia hooked her thumbs under the sides of her thong and drew it down to her ankles, where she carefully stepped out of the panties without taking off her high heels
. Suddenly Georgia was very aware of the fact that she was standing there completely naked on a stage in a room full of men. The testosterone in the air was so thick she could practically taste it.
Her hands were shaking. Why was she scared now? The exit wasn’t more than a few yards away. She could be out of there in a moment if she wanted. And she could always say “umbrella”. She forced herself to take in a long, slow breath and looked him in the eyes.
He smiled then. His whole demeanor changed with that smile. Georgia was so happy to have made him smile that the room of men seemed to melt away, as if it were just her and Jonathan, alone on the stage.
“Lovely,” Jonathan said softly. In a louder voice he said, “Please, sit.”
She sat.
“Spread your legs, Georgia.”
A hundred dollars, she thought. One hundred. Georgia spread her legs, opening her knees without shame. If she thought too hard about what she was doing she would have a heart attack. She just had to stop thinking and enjoy herself. This was the easiest money she’d ever had the opportunity to make—and she had to admit having all of those men watch her was a huge turn-on.
Jonathan knelt in front of her and held his hand out to Vincent, who handed him several leather cuffs. Georgia looked down at the chair with renewed interest—it was a bondage chair. It had places for cuffs to hook on and everything. She had played with light bondage before with past boyfriends and enjoyed it. Just having her hands tied with a scarf, really. None of the guys she had dated really had a lot of experience with that type of thing though.
Jonathan took her ankle in his hand and caressed it gently as he wrapped one of the wide leather cuffs around it, attaching the cuff to one leg of the chair. Georgia felt a rush of wetness in her core as he opened her legs even wider than they were already spread to cuff her other ankle to the opposite leg of the chair. She fought the urge to cover her exposed pussy with her hands.
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