by Paul Blades
Lana listened to the older woman with her full attention. Anything anyone could tell her to help her avoid pain was very welcomed.
“Now get dressed, Lana. We’ll be going upstairs in a few minutes.
The workout was long and hard. Lana felt her muscles turn to rubber. But one of the girls, a pretty Jewish girl from Staten Island, showed her some steps. When they were finished their routines, they all went back downstairs, in the company of a guard of course, and showered. They would change after they had time to rest and eat.
The girls all lay down on cots to take short naps. Lana dozed off and was awoken by one of the girls so that she could eat. Dinner was sent down on a dumbwaiter. It was light, consisting of some cheese, salad and fruit. By the time they had finished eating, it was about 6 o’clock. The club opened officially at 8 and the girls had to be ready by 7:30. They sat at their dressing stations and carefully applied makeup. Yolanda made sure that Lana was properly instructed in what to do.
Each girl had a set of almost scandalously revealing dresses. Yolanda found one that fit Lana. “You’ll probably be measured tomorrow. It’ll take a few days for them to set you up. In the meantime, find a couple of girls your size. They’ll let you borrow. I’ll have one of the guards come down and change your collar and bracelets.”
The girls dressed quickly, yet deliberately. Girls whose décor was not perfect faced discipline. Too many times and you were out.
The dress that Yolanda chose for Lana was bright red. The skirt was made of several layers of light translucent chiffon, barely concealing her legs and the apex of her thighs. It had thin shoulder straps holding up a bodice that revealed most of her breasts. The bodice fit tightly over her chest. “The men will love to watch your tits move in that,” Yolanda told her. “Don’t forget why we’re here. As distasteful as it may seem, it’s your job to make the men want to fuck you. We have a saying. If you don’t get fucked, you’re fucked.” Yolanda gave a little laugh.
Lana was thrilled to adorn herself with sheer black stockings. The silky feel of the nylons was comforting. She tested a few perfumes and selected one that suited her tastes. She painted her lips a bright red to match her dress. One of the girls, a dark skinned, luscious looking, Brazilian girl with wild black curls gave her a pair of globe shaped, gold earrings.
“Don’t lose them, pettita, or I’ll scratch your eyes out,” she said, only half joking.
At 7:15, the girls were all ready. They were all gorgeously outfitted. They checked themselves out in the floor length mirrors. Lana could see why Yolanda had lasted so long. She was graceful and elegant. She had on a yellow shift dress with slits up both sides. It clung to her hips tightly and displayed her long, sultry legs to good effect. All of the girls wore low heeled shoes, colored to match their dresses.
At 7:25, the door to the dressing room opened. A heavy set, bearded man stepped in the room. He was wearing a reddish brown robe. “Everybody ready, ladies?” he asked. His voice was deep with a decidedly American accent. There was a general murmur of assent. “Where’s the new girl?” he asked.
Lana stepped forwards cautiously. “Here I am, master,” she said.
“None of that ‘master’ stuff while you’re in the club. Except for Cholo, of course. You better make sure you’re real nice to him.” The man looked around at the milling crowd of exquisite pulchritude. “The rest of you girls go upstairs. I want to talk to Lana.”
The girls shuffled out quietly. Outside of the dressing room, and until and unless they were entertaining a guest, all the rules of the resort applied. When the door closed, the man sat on a chair and beckoned Lana to approach him.
“Let me see, honey. Turn around,” he instructed her.
Lana did a little pirouette. The skirt swirled nicely around her. Her black stocking, held up by pretty, flowered garters, accentuated the area that they didn’t cover. The light brown skin of her upper thighs and her available sex were readily discernable.
“Nice, nice. By the way, my name is Danny. If you’re lucky, you’ll be dealing mostly with me. I try to be fair and I have no need to throw my weight around, if you’ll pardon the pun.” Lana managed a weak smile.
“That’s my girl,” he said. “Come and sit on my lap.”
Lana obeyed the man’s order and perched herself on his rotund, but muscular thigh. He took the hem of Lana’s skirt and brazenly pushed it up around her waist. Lana was embarrassed at the nakedness of her loins. The act of dressing up had made her momentarily forget that any man on the island had the right to see her naked anytime that they wanted. But having her skirt lifted so casually brought her status as a slave quickly back into focus.
Danny ran his fat hand over her thighs. “Very pretty, Lana. And a pretty little cunt. Make sure you get it stuffed tonight, all right?”
Lana nodded obediently.
He stroked her labia with his fingers. “You’ll have to show me your skills, sweetheart. Maybe I’ll have you brought over early tomorrow. Now I want you to crouch down and suck my cock. Don’t kneel. I don’t want you to ruin your stockings. Not yet anyway.”
Lana slid off of the fat man’s lap and snuck in between his knees. He spread them wide for her and she had easy access to his long, thick cock. She circled it with her bright red lips and, with one hand on its base, pressed her head forwards, caressing it with her tongue. After all the cocksucking she had done while in training, she was overcome with embarrassment to be servicing this strange man’s hardening pole dressed in her finery. It seemed sluttish, like she was doing some guy she had just met in the bathroom of a club back home. She was also afraid that one of the other girls might come in, a fear that was incongruous since all of them were sex slaves and subject to being ordered to perform similar acts at any time. What she did not know was that it was Danny’s regular practice to get a blow job every night just before the girls went on. It relaxed him for the evening. So every one of the girls knew exactly what Lana was doing right now, even down to the position that she had assumed.
The slave girl’s knees were spread wide to maintain her balance, and she could feel cool air running up her skirt, tickling her loins. Danny gave out a low moan as she forced the now hard cock deep into her mouth. Despite Danny’s friendly attitude, she was afraid of him. He was a master, after all, and if he found fault with her, he could hurt her as much as any other.
Lana edged her body closer to the fat man as his cock began to pierce the edge of her throat. She placed her hand on his thigh for balance as she drew her head back and forth, giving the shaft the moist heat of her mouth. She ran her tongue over the cock’s crown and tickled the tiny hole in the tip with the tip of her tongue. Danny placed his hands on her head lightly, not for purposes of control, but rather as a form of encouragement. His breath became heavy and his thighs began to shudder. “Ohhh, yes,” he moaned. “Ohhhh, yeah.”
The girl found herself getting excited in spite of herself. She snuck a hand under her skirt and gently caressed her moistening slit. She moaned faintly as she dragged her lips across the length of the club manager’s hard meat. She felt the man stiffen. With a low moan, his cock began to pulse in her mouth. She could taste his salty discharge as it flooded her oral cavity. “Oh, fuck!” he yelled as his cock spasmed within her. “Oh, yeah! Suck it! Oh, yeah! Yeah!” he exclaimed.
When his orgasm subsided, Lana, after making sure she had consumed every drop of his sperm, let the softening meat slide from her mouth. Danny patted her on the head. “You’re going to do all right, Lana.”
Before he brought her upstairs he filled her in on some basic rules. Don’t talk to the guests unless they talk to you. Let one of the more experienced girls take the lead. No alcohol unless the guest demanded it. Few of them would. Smile, be nice and make sure you clean yourself up after each use. “Most of the girls get two or three customers a night. You’ll probably get more since you’re new. Wash your cunt and ass good before you come back out of the room. And enjoy yourself. Dance up a storm. You
’re a beautiful, sexy, young woman, in the prime of your life. Make it happen. Okay?”
Lana nodded assent. Danny told her to use some mouth spray and then he’d take her upstairs. Each of the girls carried little purses to match their dresses and shoes. In it was breath spray, lotion, lubricant, lipstick, some tissues and a hairbrush.
After Lana had freshened her mouth and straightened her lipstick, Danny led her upstairs. Her pussy still tingled from her oral contact with Danny’s stiff prick. She was slightly ashamed that she could get so excited sucking a stranger’s cock. But as she walked up the stairs behind the heavyset man, she realized that all of her sexual skills would soon be out to the test and that it was probably a good thing that she could get into the proper spirit.
The girls were all waiting around, primping at the mirrored walls or talking quietly. Several had drinks of juice in front of them at the bar. At 8 o’clock sharp the music came on. Some of the girls started dancing with each other. Eventually some guests and a few supervisors wandered in.
The club was small enough so that it did not need a lot of people to feel comfortable. Lana watched as a man picked up one of the girls to dance. It was a meringue, and the girl started slowly, but after a minute, started to strut her stuff. By 8:30 there was a decent crowd. Lana had stood around anxiously. The beat of the music was somewhat comforting as it ran through her. She found herself tapping her toe in time to the Latin beat. Finally, Yolanda came up to her and said, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Yolanda took Lana by the hand and guided her across the room. There were three men sitting at the bar, drinking and joking with one another. They were all in their late thirties and seemed to Lana to be fit and trim. A man with short black hair and olive colored skin got off of his chair and proffered it to Lana. Lana, discomfited by the fact of the man’s deference to her, took the seat anyway. She was nervous. But the man was relaxed and teased her about her shyness. Yolanda had advised her to let the men talk and be pretty, and that’s what she did. The man talked about his business, the golf game today, the weather. All the while, his eyes rested mostly on her proffered breasts. Lana decided to take matters in hand. “Would you like to dance?’ she asked him.
The man, who had introduced himself as Vinnie, led her to the floor. It had become somewhat crowed and bodies were swirling and shaking all about them. The man took Lana’s left hand in his and placed his other hand around her waist and they were off.
Slowly, Lana got into the spirit of the music’s rhythm. The man was a confident and accomplished dancer, and she soon found herself energized. He was handsome and that helped as Lana considered that he would probably want to go to one of the private rooms with her. His hips swung invitingly and his eyes were like blue stars.
After the first song, Vinnie wanted to stay on the dance floor and so they began again. Lana was in near heaven. Her body felt better than it had in weeks. She felt alive, free. Her hot red dress made her feel like a beauty queen. What were Cholo’s words? Yes, a Latina princess. She smiled and laughed as the man and she danced song after song. Her body was sweaty with exertion, but as long as the man could keep up, she wanted to dance.
The club had been transformed from an empty room to a sea of whirling and turning excited people. Strobe lights flashed overhead and the lights on the floor flicked on and off in many different colors. The music was loud and almost deafening. But nobody wanted to talk. What had they really to talk about anyway? Everyone knew that the whole scene was just a charade. But no one cared. It was as if they had been transported to the hottest club in South Miami, or Brooklyn or East Los Angeles. This was not the music of your sophisticated uptown nightclub. It was Latino dance music and it mattered not a whit what the singers said, or the originality of the tune. The beat was all.
After their fifth dance together, Vinnie signaled that he wanted to return to the bar. Lana followed him, breathlessly. It had been wonderful, and her heart still beat hard in her chest. Her body felt exhilarated. Vinnie took a long pull of his martini and Lana sucked down a good portion of her juice. When he had replaced his glass on the bar, he looked at Lana with an appreciative gaze. She could tell that he was saying something to her, but she could not hear it over the music. She leaned her ear over to his mouth and she heard him yell into her ear, “Let’s go upstairs.”
Lana’s heart almost stopped. It was the moment of truth. In a short while she would officially be a whore. Not by choice, but a whore nonetheless. The only difference was that her ‘employer’ was making all of the money. But from what she heard, whores back in the real world paid most of their money to their pimps anyway.
Lana swallowed hard and nodded, ‘Yes’ to her admirer. He took her hand and began to lead her to the stairs. They had to cut through the dance crowd and the jostling of the frantically moving bodies against hers made Lana aware of where they were going and what she would soon be doing.
When they broke free of the crowd, Vinnie led Lana up the steps. The upstairs consisted of a series of fifteen small rooms, each equipped with its own mini-bar, a large king sized bed and a whipping post. One for each slut on duty. The club’s dancing staff consisted of twenty five girls. The ones not on duty in the club were generally either at rest back at the dormitory, or off on ‘assignment’ to a guest or supervisor. On nights that promised to be busy, more, or even all, the girls were added to the shift. There was no order of preference as to which whore used which room, and the patron was permitted to select any that were empty. They were all the same anyway.
The rooms ran around a gallery built up over the lower level. It surrounded the area covered by the dance floor and Lana could look down and see the writhing, dancing people as they walked along it. Vinnie selected the fourth room and opened the door and invited Lana inside.
The closing of the door muted the blasting music. It could still be heard, but it was now low enough to talk. The beat, however, the drumming beat of the percussion instruments, pulsed through the room like a throbbing heart.
Vinnie went to the bar and got himself another drink. Lana stood still, not sure what her next step should be. Vinnie turned to look at her and she returned his gaze. Vinnie was handsome and fit. Black hair peaked out from his robe by his chest. He had strong, but graceful hands. She could do worse, she thought.
Vinnie made the first move. He put down his drink and walked over to where Lana stood. He placed his strong hands on her shoulders and joined his lips to hers. Lana closed her eyes as she felt his hot tongue enter her mouth. Her loins began to tingle as Vinnie’s tongue excited her. She placed her arms around his back and returned his kiss. She felt his hard body rub against hers.
Vinnie’s hands gently grabbed the straps of her bodice and slowly worked them off of her shoulders. As the thin red straps worked their way down her arms, Lana lowered them, allowing the dress to be pulled down to her waist. Her ample, ripe breasts fell free.
Lana had been concerned as to how she would remove her dress. Would he order her to strip, like the slave she was? Or would it be up to her to initiate her nakedness for the man’s lustful eyes? Either way, she would feel degraded and ashamed. But here this man had solved her problem. To show her breasts to him seemed the most natural thing in the world. His hands grasped them, delicately massaging them as his lips continued to inflame her. Her cunt tingled when he ran his thumbs across her stiff, hard nipples.
Now that her hands were liberated from her dress’s straps, Lana used them to push open the sides of Vinnie’s robe. She ran her hands over his strong chest, feeling the well developed muscles. Suddenly, the man tore off his robe. Lana took the opportunity to step out of her dress. She began to lean over to take off her matching red shoes when Vinnie said, “Leave them on,” undisguised passion in his voice.
They fell into the bed. Lana’s pussy was wet and hot. Vinnie pushed her knees apart and poised his manhood at the entrance to her sheath. Taking her mouth again with his, he plunged his stiff rod inside.
Lana gasped when she felt her hot tunnel filled with Vinnie’s hard cock. The man, overcome with passion and excitement, began to pump furiously. Lana, her mind befogged by lust responded, thrusting her hips up hard to meet his powerful strokes. She enveloped him with her arms, pulling his heat into her. Her stocking clad legs wrapped around his back, her bright red shoes dangling in the air, pushing his cock deeper inside her.
When she felt him begin to come and felt his loud moan in her mouth, she came too, a jolt of electricity flowing through her body. She could feel his hot come splash against the walls of her womb. Her pussy gripped his piece hard with each powerful contraction. The beating of her heart seemed to match the tempo of music beneath them. When her contractions ebbed, she continued to grip his cock tightly with the newly developed muscles in her sheath. He groaned once more and then collapsed.
The pair made passionate love for the next hour. Lana took the initiative and drew Vinnie’s cock to hardness with her mouth. For twenty minutes she made him moan and groan as she applied her oral skills to his aching rod. When she let him come, he yelled and shouted his pleasure. He took his turn at her loins, licking her engorged labia, running his hot tongue through the valley between them. He sucked on her clit until she squirmed and moaned in tortuous ecstasy. And then he plunged his hard meat into her, setting off an explosion of passion in her body. Afterwards, they lay entwined, like lovers do. He explored her curvaceous body with his hands, her breasts with his lips. She reached for his cock, but he stilled her hand with his. “Tomorrow,” he whispered. He arose and crossed the dimly lit room to retrieve his robe. His cock hung flaccid between his legs. Before he left the room he gave her a long, lascivious look. “Thank you, Lana,” he said and he left.
Lana rested for a few moments and then realized that someone would have the job of monitoring whether any of the girls were slacking off. She rose from the bed and washed herself in the bathroom, carefully rinsing her pussy in the bidet. She brushed her shoulder length black hair and freshened her makeup. When she had redonned her pretty, red dress, she exited the room to return to the bar. As soon as she opened the door, the intensity of the music struck her. She strutted down the gallery to the stairs, and turning at the top, looked at the frantically gyrating crowd below. She paused to take it in. Her hips seemed to adopt the beat of their own volition.
