John Knuckles appreciation continues this weekend.
A rising political superstar is ensnared in a humiliating web of blackmail - and stripping
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Barbara rifled through the thick packet of papers in her hands and frowned. There was a serious, determined look on her youthful face. Her high heels rested atop her mahogany desk and she leaned all the way back in her leather, executive-style recliner. Her office was by far the largest.
For good reason.
An outsider might naturally assume that she was poring over legal minutia - studying court cases and reviewing new evidence. After all, this was the city's District Attorney office building. Lots of paperwork in law, right?
Despite her young age, Barbara was the District Attorney. The boss. Numero uno. The buck stopped with her.
That's why an outsider might be surprised to learn she was reviewing her upcoming TV appearances and planning dinner-dates with mega-donors. Her paperwork had nothing to do with case law or recent arrests.
"Hmm... the FOX morning show?" she asked herself. "Or maybe that new one on NBC? And the night before... which billionaire's grandson do I have to meet for dinner? Gross - better not be that Wallace boy! Hmm... maybe I can get away with just a cup of coffee the next day..."
Barbara's father was the former Governor. Her uncle was a Senator. Her grandfather was a two-term President. She came from political royalty and she knew how to play the game. Hard ball when necessary. It was the family profession, after all.
And it didn't hurt that she looked the part: a tall, lanky body with long brown hair, a determined face, pouty breasts and piercing eyes. Simply put: She was a knockout. Instead of being even the least bit slutty or bimbo-ish, she effortlessly exuded class and elegance. It radiated from her. Barbara wasn't the bleach-blonde Playboy Playmate with fake tits who had to fuck her way to the top; she was the all-American Princess. Okay, if this were Hollywood, she might not win the part of the busty beauty queen - but this was NOT Hollywood. This was politics. Also known as show biz for ugly people.
A Hollywood 8 was EASILY a Washington 10.
Barbara had IT, whatever IT was. The camera LOVED her, but she was careful not to reveal too much. Barbara firmly believed that a true lady must maintain an air of mystery at all times. There was something almost girlish - virginal and wholesome - about her public image. She was NOT the kind of girl who'd give the paparazzi a crotch-shot when exiting her limo - not in a million years! Other than a flash of her thigh or a fleeting peak of her delicious cleavage (which the political fanboys would drool over on social media sites), she always kept her body covered.
She wouldn't even allow herself to be photographed in a one-piece bathing suit.
But she aggressively pursued photo opportunities with "respectable" media outlets, especially when she could be filmed in an evening gown, or a sexy-smart business suit. The young heiress was shrewd custodian of her glamorous image. Image was everything. And the image she projected was one of brilliance, sophistication and beauty. She could battle like a barracuda - but do it while looking like the woman of your dreams!
And if she played her cards right, she just might end up kicking her high heels over the desk in the Oval Office...
With minimal tabloid attention, Barbara graduated from the Ivy Leagues. Her political connections quickly landed her a plum appointment to a mid-market District Attorney's office. Now she simply had to manufacture a few positive media headlines, avoid any embarrassments, build her donor's list... and then maybe Mayor. Then Lt. Governor. And then...
Big time.
She made her first splashy headline by clamping-down on the city's red light district. Prostitution, strip clubs, gambling... she forced the police to arrest and frog-march all the leading players. After decades of peaceful coexistence, the club owners, patrons, strippers and pimps were now getting regulated out of business - or winding up behind bars.
Worse, Barbara also targeted their side-businesses and peripheral investments. It was having a devastating impact on the owners' cash flow.
Dale Smith owned half the city's tittie bars and massage parlors... as well as numerous other "curious investments" that he preferred to keep off the radar. In his early 40s and slyly charming, he pleaded with Barbara in private office visits to turn a blind eye. (And not only in office visits - in restaurants, community events and dinner parties. Despite occupying different professions - er, more or less - they shared similar social circles. It wasn't a big town.) A pragmatist, he even offered to donate to her Political Action Committee. (An optimist, he also asked her out on a date.)
She turned down the date but accepted his donation - and then prosecuted him anyway.
One year later, he was nearly ruined, but had somehow managed to stay out of jail. Barely. Only a few of his businesses remained open. And the final nail in his coffin was just delivered this morning, when Barbara won a court order to immediately halt work at Dale Smith's chemical plant, finding his alleged work in hypnosis and mind control "less than fully credible," despite Dale's impassioned pleas. He had tied up his last penny in this investment...
And now the once-mighty strip club king was on his last leg. Everyone knew it.
Good. Let him keel over and die. Victory! Barbara was going to use his broken corpse as a stepping stone for better things. Governor, Senator, Vice President...
President!
So imagine her surprise when Dale appeared in her office at the end of the day, his hat in one hand... bottle in the other.
"Well, well, Mr. Smith," she smirked. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Look, Babs -"
"My name's not Babs, you filthy low life! I'm the District Attorney, not one of your skanky sluts! My name is Barbara!"
Dale put the bottle on her desk. "Please, Barbara... please... I know I haven't always been a model citizen, but I'm a legitimate business owner. I'm not just a strip club baron - I invest in real estate, research & development, and honest new ventures that provide real jobs."
"Yes, you have many front businesses," she curtly replied.
"It's not a front!" He pointed to the bottle on her desk. "See that bottle? The chemical plant, the one you just shut down out of spite, had been working on this formula for three years! I've spent millions on the research and development. And now they've done it! I swear to you, it's new technology that will change the world!"
Barbara laughed. "Right. Your magic mind control drink. Get serious, Dale - the court found it was just corn syrup and vitamins. It's a sham."
"If you're so sure, why don't you take a sip?"
The young attorney paused. What the hell, she thought. With her late hours in the office and constant rounds on the cocktail circuit, it had been a struggle to maintain her body (although she was careful to wear clothes that masked her imperfections). Proper nutrition was often neglected. And the court did rule that the drink was harmless...
She downed the bottle in one long gulp. Three seconds went by.
Barbara stood up, stretched her arms out, and declared in a robotic voice: "Oh - no. I - am - under - your - spell. Should - I - undress, - Master? Should - I - get - naked - for - you?"
Dale looked embarrassed. "It... it doesn't work that way."
She exploded with laughter. "No kidding, Sherlock! Now get out of my office!"
Shame-faced, Dale turned toward the door and opened it.
"Oh, one last thing, Sherlock. Everyone! Listen to this!"
He stopped. So did everyone in the hallway and nearby offices.
"As the D.A., I get to be there when we finally arrest you. It's one of my job perks. Not only that, but I also get to be there when we frisk you, strip you and do the prerequisite FULL body cavity search! Can't wait to see that itsy-bitsy little weenie of yours, Dickless Dale! We'll find out EXACTLY what your lifestyle is overcompensating for! And gee, wouldn't it be a SHAME if some of those pictures were somehow leaked to the press? Oh, we can't wait to meet the REAL you! Just some food for thought, Mr. Strip Club King. Now... goodbye!"
With the echoes of laughter ringing in his ears, the strip club king sulked out...
An hour later, Barbara was out of the office and in the parking lot, walking to her new BMW, humming a happy song, daydreaming about the White House. Her ass swayed back and forth...
Dale was standing right by her car.
"You? Get away from my Beamer, you creep," she threatened. "We have nothing further to discuss. For now."
"I know, I know," he sadly admitted. "You win. I give up. But I just wondered, what did you think of the flavor?"
"Flavor? What are you talking about, jackass?"
"Of my drink, I mean."
The young D.A. rolled her eyes and gave an evil smile. But instead of tearing into Dale with a vicious insult, she answered: "It was citric-based and tangy. Very sweet. And a hint of cherry. It was yummy."
Barbara's face looked surprised. She quickly added: "Actually, it tasted like cough medicine. I - I hated it! I knew it was a scam!"
Now it was Dale's turn to smile. "I see. And I was just wondering, why are you such a lying bitch? Are you on the rag, or something?"
The nerve of him!! But instead of slapping him, she answered honestly: "Not until next week. My menstrual cycle is very consistent. My heavy discharge day will be on Thursday."
What did she say?! She put her hand over her own mouth in shock. "I - I have to go!" she cried, reaching for the car door. "I'm getting out of here!"
"Stop. Don't go."
Barbara instantly stopped moving. "Why am I listening to you?! Wh - What's happening to me?!" she cried. The scared heiress looked around: They were out in public. It was early evening. Most of the cars had left the parking lot, but a few were still parked. Every now and then, a person would walk by in the distance. My God!! These were her coworkers... her underlings... her colleagues. The same people she was planning on leaving in the dust!
"H - help!" she yelped.
"Shut up! No more screaming. Speak to me softly. Understand?"
"Y - yes," she whispered, scared out of her mind.
Dale positioned his iPhone on her car so it faced the young attorney. It was recording.
Barbara instantly calculated the implications: "Please, turn that off! No cameras!! Let me go! I - I need to go home! If I'm not home in exactly 15 minutes -"
"Repeat after me, Barbara: Say to the camera, 'I give consent to Dale Smith to film me and record me, and use any of the images however he sees fit. Everything I say and do on camera is out of my own free will.'"
"I - I give consent to Dale Smith to film me and record me, and use any of the images however he sees fit," she nervously repeated. "Everything I say and do on camera is out of my own free will!"
"Dale can upload the videos and pictures anywhere he wants. Even on porn sites," Dale added.
"Even on p - porn sites!" she gasped.
"Good. Now let's do the interview everyone's been dying to hear. Question one: What the fuck is up your ass, you uptight bitch?"
"Nothing is up my ass, you jerk!" she angrily retorted. "My ass is perfectly clean, because I showered after my morning poop, thank you very much!"
She instantly clamped her mouth shut with both hands and stared wide-eyed at the cell phone recording her. What the fuck!! She - she can't talk about her bathroom habits on camera! Dale chuckled out loud.
"Ha ha! Thanks for sharing. Use much toilet paper?"
"No toilet paper. I only use baby wipes. Because my skin is sensitive! Otherwise I - I get a rash. And I - I only needed two. Then I showered." Her entire body was blushing - and she desperately wished she could tie her tongue into knots! WTF?!!! Her carefully constructed image!! How could she say this?!!!! Worst of all... it was the TRUTH!
"Where, exactly, you you get a rash, Babs?"
"Stop! Don't call me Babs, asshole! Dammit! I - I get a rash around my a - a - anus. It - it gets itchy and hurts!" Her faced heated and her eyes were ablaze with rage.
"Ha ha! You're even a pain in your OWN ass! Ha ha! Okay, a more serious question: What in the world do you have against strip clubs?"
"They're gross!! M - Men shouldn't be able to see women like that! Women are to be honored and respected - not treated like a hunk of naked meat!! Besides, a lady should only reveal her private parts to her dearly beloved - certainly not to strangers! Our nudity is an extra-special gift! They're called PRIVATE PARTS for a reason! It's - it's a secret! Because of people like you, we're turning into a nation of sluts and skanks!"
"How puritanical. When was the last time you were laid anyway?"
"It's been five long year!" she wailed.
Had... had it really been that long? Five years??? Her knees buckled... her forehead dampened...
He laughed. "I guess you've been forced to take matters in your own hands... so to speak."
"Yes! I get very h - horny!" Her eyes widened in dread. That camera!
"You do?"
"Yes!!" she admitted, her face bright red.
"How often do you play with yourself?"
"Every day! Always in the morning, sometimes in the evening, too! In the shower! Whenever I can!" The young D.A. felt all her blood rush to her face. No!! Oh, God no!! But she knew it was true: As early as this morning... scrubbing herself in the shower... she woke up extra-early just for this purpose... just so she would have time to give herself a toe-curling orgasm before work.
"What do you use?"
"My fingers! All of them!"
She hung her head in shame. Her face burned...
"Ain't you an eager beaver! Let your fingers do the walking, do you? Our Babs is a dirty little horndog. Who knew? So what do you like to fantasize about, Babs? Let's hear your private fantasies!"
She tried to clamp her mouth shut. No! She could NOT admit this!! Not to him! Not while being recorded!
But she couldn't stop herself from answering: "I - I fantasize about being dominated... of being stripped in public... everyone gets to look and touch my ass, tits and pussy... and then I fantasize of being spanked and - and forced to cum... while everyone watches!"
No!
She closed her eyes and shook her head violently. NO!! This was something she would NEVER admit to ANYONE!!! They could water torture her, and she'd deny it 'til her dying day. But here she was.... admitting it freely, revealing her deepest, darkest secrets to a small town strip club owner...
"Wow!! I didn't see that one coming!" Dale laughed. "Very interesting. Very interesting indeed! So if I told you to strip off all your clothes and spanked you... right now... you'd be into that?"
"Yes!" she cried.
"And if I made you stroke your poor, wet pussy until you climaxed - while an audience cheered... that would make you incredibly hot?"
"Oh, yes!! Really hot!!" She cursed herself and howled in humiliation! "And - and sometimes I squirt when I get excited! I - I squirt a lot! I make a mess!"
OMG!!!! Her deepest secrets!! She was telling him everything! What was wrong with her?! That drink!! It - it COULDN'T be real... could it???
"Ha ha! Babs is a squirter!! That's too much! Well, good for you, Babs."
"Shut up! M - My name's NOT Babs! And - and - that fantasy stuff, I didn't mean -"
"Ha ha! No, a squirter - that's great! Really, squirters are very popular. Some men are really into it. So good news, Babs: If this legal-political stuff doesn't work out, at least you'll have a career option."
"Fuck you!! How - how dare you!"
"A squirter, eh?" he continued to chuckle. "We'll need to explore that more thoroughly. But in the meantime, I'll do you a favor and let you live out your fantasy. Strip. Let's see what the great and powerful District Attorney looks like beneath her clothes."
"Nooooooooo!!!! I - I can't! Not out in public! Not for real! Please!"
But despite her protests, Barbara pulled off her jacket and obediently layed in on the street. She stepped out of her heels. Her fingers trembled...
Dale was holding the iPhone and aiming it at her body.
"No! Dale! Stop! Let's make a deal!"
She unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it off. Her firm bra was tightly pinned to her chest and showed a bit of her fleshy cleavage poking out of the top. Her stomach extended out, showing the beginning of a small potbelly. Barbara's tummy was considerably chunkier than Dale had anticipated.
"Very sexy, Babs! Maybe I can get you a gig in one of my strip clubs! We gotta keep an eye on your beer belly, though. Keep going..."
"Fuck you! And my name's not Babs! Stop calling me that!"
Barbara unzipped her sexy skirt and wiggled her way out, shaking her hips until the skirt dropped to her feet. She was now just in her bra and panties. And WOW... her young, lanky body didn't come even close to matching the airbrushed pictures in Vanity Fair! Pear-shaped and slightly chunky, her heart was pounding a mile a minute...
Her bra: Black and stately. Thick cups. Appeared to be a Wonderbra.
And her panties: Pink. Skimpy. Thong.
VERY skimpy. I'm talking, "fuck-me-now-and-I'll-be-your-whore" skimpy!
But... her ass really wasn't in shape for a thong. Not since those late nights on the cocktail circuit. Maybe not since college. Besides, it seemed so out of character for her!
"A thong?! How come a puritanical nag like you wears a thong?"
"Because I - I like how they make me feel!" she tearfully admitted. "They make me feel s- sexy! I - I like thinking about the pretty panties on my private parts, and how nobody around me knows I'm being n - naughty!"
"You wanna feel naughty? Maybe I can help. Turn around and shake that thing!"
The powerful D.A. turned around and pointed her ass cheeks at Dale. What a sight! Her rear end had a nice round shape when covered - but uncovered, it had its share of blemishes and a bit of thickness...
"Stop calling me Babs! You - you can't make me...!"
Despite her protests, she bent over and shook her ass like a drum! The heiress was waving her bare cheeks as hard as she could in broad daylight! Her pale, white ass rippled and danced in the cool air.
"I appreciate the effort... but Babs... no offense, but you ain't got the body to wear a thong. Your butt is too fat! That's just silly."
"I know!" she growled. God!! He was getting all this on video!! She must DESTROY that iPhone, if it's the last thing she did!! "Of course I know my ass is too fat! I own a mirror, dammit!!" GOD, this was humiliating! "I'm a little bit heavier than usual, that's all! B - but I didn't think anyone would see me like this! Especially n - not you!"
"This ain't your lucky day. Take off your bra. Let's see those nice titties! Fat girls usually have great tits!"
"Noooo! Dale!! Please - I'll call off the investigation - I'll -"
Barbara reached to her back and groped at the clasp. All at once, her bra tumbled to the earth.
And there the Political Princess stood... topless.
She wasn't stacked at all! Her tits were small, thin and saggy. Her nipples pointed down and swayed back and forth. Dale was VERY surprised by the sight. When supported and smooshed up by her Wonderbra, her chest was impressive - full and perky... but naked, her real titties were revealed as horribly undersized and... well... droopy. Skinny.
Almost stringy.
Barbara's eyes read his face, and the young attorney burned with embarrassment. He was sneering at her naked body! Instead of lusting after her, he was sneering! The fact that he found her saggy little titties so bloody AMUSING made her blood boil!
"Uh oh! Problem area! What the fuck is this?! Not Dale Smith stripper material after all, with those saggy little things! Guess I can't hire you. What's your breast size, Babs?"
"Please don't make me say it!" she cried.
"Answer me, Babs."
"32-A! You can't tell anyone! Please! I beg you! I don't want anyone to know that - that -"
"Know what, Babs?"
She burst into loud sobs. "Know how pathetic my poor little tits are!" She couldn't believe she was admitting this! "I - I can't help it!"
"Eh, cheer up. I've seen worse. Mostly on old ladies. Now take off your thong. Let's see what else Miss D.A. is hiding under the hood."
The D.A. looked around. The parking lot was now almost entirely empty...
"Oh, God! This can't be happening!!" Barbara wailed. "This - this is a nightmare!"
She pulled her thong off her hips, down past her thighs... and down to her ankles. Then she stepped out. Her arms were by her sides. Her large hips and thighs shook slightly in the early evening wind...
Dale panned down with the camera to check out his enemy's pussy. Eureka!
She was completely shaved. And very, very pink. Her pusy lips hung low and her rosy little clitty was clearly visible.
The big, bad D.A. was now 100 percent nude. The Next Big Thing was standing outside, in public, as naked as a jaybird. And her actual body did NOT match her Photoshopped image!
Instead of looking like the perfect Princess, she looked like... a chubby housewife! Or a naked aunt!
"What are you going to do to me? I - I need to get dressed," she whimpered, biting her lip. "Please! Have mercy on me!"
He smiled and caressed her face, massaging her neck. Her nipples crinkled and grew... her clitoris began to tingle...
"Hop on the hood of your car, Babs. Spread your legs and put on a show for me!"
"But - but - what if someone sees me?!" She nonetheless perched on the hood of her car and kicked her legs high in the air, posing her body like a porn star. The Strip Club King held out his phone and recorded every scandalous detail - from her rosy clit and gaping pussy to her wobbly little tits to her embarrassing fat rolls. Barbara had never felt so dirty... so used... so completely, unbelievably exposed. Dale even made her get on all fours and bark like a dog while slapping her own ass!
"Arf! Arf! Arf!" she sorrowfully woofed. Slap, slap, slap... OMG!! Barbara's entire body was burning with hatred, fear and soul-crushing humiliation. Tears rolled down her face and a thin line of drool was dripping from her chin. Her poor, stringy tits slapped around wildly. "Arf! Arf!" Slap, slap...
"Good puppy!" Dale laughed, petting her ass.
"Arf! Arf! Arf!" Slap, slap, slap...
He eventually put down his phone and helped the young D.A. off her BMW. For the first time in her life, she was too ashamed to make eye contact with someone!
"Please don't show that video to anyone! Dale! I beg you! I - I'll be destroyed! Let me get dressed... we'll pretend this never happened. Please!" She wrapped her arm around her tits and hid her pussy in her hand, trembling in the evening air.
"Sorry, Babs - no can do. Because of all these recent court actions, my bottom line has taken a real beating. Cost of labor is a backbreaker. And my clubs could always use another dancer... even one with runny egg-tits and a fat ass!"
"N - no!! You can't! A stripper?! Me?! You can't be serious! I - I'll be ruined!"
Several hours later...
Barbara peered out from behind the strip club curtain. The crowd was getting restless. In the audience were men... some old enough to be her grandfather, others young enough to be her boyfriend. OH NO!! There were also a number of her coworkers! The idiot secretaries sitting with those pervy young lawyers - all of whom had resented her! She would ridicule them... browbeat them... rule by fear. That was how she instilled respect.
N - Nooo!!! If they recognized her... if they saw her naked...
She looked at herself in the mirror. She scarcely recognized herself. So maybe they wouldn't either...?
Dale Smith had brought her out to Dale's Watering Hole's always-popular "Amateur Night Tit-Off!"
It was held once a week. Men from all over town would plan their schedule around it. It was THAT popular. The biggest feature was the amateur tit-off: The local "talent" would shake their tits and get naked on stage. Whomever earned the most cheers won $5,000. With the economy being what it is, women with the biggest, most voluptuous breasts would travel a 100+ miles to compete for the jackpot.
Barbara was the last contestant of the night. The main event.
And to her horror, all the women had beautiful, gigantic tits - that jiggled and bobbled to loud screams and cheers! Some of the skanks tried to gain an edge by also showing off their perfect asses, bending over and shaking their derrière for the audience!
The hotter the girl, the louder the cheer.
The young D.A. trembled in fear, as she thought how HER body looked in comparison - and this RIDICULOUS bathing suit that Dale had forced her to wear! It wasn't even a real piece of swimwear! It was like lingerie, with long strings running down from her neck, over her tits, and down to cover her pussy. On the back was a thread-thin thong that did NOTHING to hide her big bare butt.
Her body just wasn't built tor an outfit like this! And she knew it!
"And our last dancer for amateur night," boomed the emcee, "is a total newcomer. Looks like she knows how to party! Welcome her to our club, boys: Miss Babs!"
Barbara nervously stepped onto the stage, wearing high heels and that revolting outfit...
...Unfortunately, this was the kind of outfit that accentuated ALL her flaws: Her tits were flat and droopy in the suspender-like straps, and her giant ass shook like stereo speakers! Her hips jiggled and thighs rippled. She was hideous!
Her tall, lanky frame, small bust and wide ass was built for evening gowns and swanky business suits - not suspender lingerie and a slutty thong.
Barbara smiled weakly and shook her meager tits at the crowd. Her hair was teased and her face was caked with unnatural makeup. She looked like WORSE than a skank - she looked like a skank wannabe!
"According to my notes, Babs works in a law office... I guess she makes coffee for the boys, or something," the emcee said. "She has 32-A tits and likes to masturbate whenever she can. Also says here that she uses baby wipes because of the sensitive skin around her anus and fantasizes about being spanked and dominated. ...Eh?! Okay, that's weird. Anyway, aren't her little boobies cute? Give her a loud cheer, guys!"
Babs smiled stupidly and jiggled her tits... she braced herself for crass cheers and off-color comments... here it comes:
But instead, she was heckled: "Boo! Get your fat ass and titless body off the stage! Boo!"
Flustered, the you heiress didn't know what to do - so she shook her A-cups harder...
"Booo!!!"
"Come on, give her a chance," the emcee said. "Let's see how she looks naked. Maybe she'll redeem herself. Who knows? Babs: strip!"
OMG!! With a lump in her throat, Barbara unhooked her outfit. She... didn't want to. She desperately didn't want to! She would've surrendered all her worldly possessions not to! But she obeyed nonetheless...
The skimpy attire fell apart fast... leaving her all bare.
Completely nude. On the stage. In high heels. Her small, stringy titties, pear-shaped hips, big white ass and shaved kitty! The lights felt so bright. All those eyes, staring at her every last detail. And she saw Dale standing in the back, telling his camera man to continue filming...
And she was going to be President one day!
The audience was quiet at first, soaking in her naked body.
Then, incredibly, the crowd... booed.
They booed! They booed HER!
And they mocked her body: "C'mon! Get her fat ass off the stage! We want someone hot!"
"Look at those saggy titties! I say they're SMALLER than 32-A!"
"They looks like deflated balloons!"
She heard a colleague say: "Hey, she looks kind of like..."
No!!! NOOO!!!!
"Boo!"
"Boo!"
"Whoa!" called out the emcee. "I hear you! And according to club rules, if an amateur gets booed, what happens???"
"She gets spanked!!" called back the crowd.
Barbara's mouth dropped.
NOBODY had told her THAT part of the contest.
Dale walked across the stage and grabbed the young attorney by the arm. "Okay, Babs - listen up: I'm gonna beat your pale ass on the stage, and you're gonna rub your pussy while I do it!" he whispered. "And when I get to the tenth spank, you will have the biggest orgasm of your life!"
"Dale! Please don't!" she whispered back. Tears welled in her pretty eyes. "Not here! Not with everyone watching! Don't do this... in the name of all that's good and holy. Please - please leave me my dignity!"
He leaned right into her ear and spoke so sharply, it made the hairs on her neck stand up: "Stop complaining, Babs. This is your fantasy, not mine. You're the slut, not me."
She shook her head in protest - but they both knew it was true! This - this was SO MUCH like her fantasies - getting stripped and spanked. But those were just silly, harmless fantasies. This was REAL! He - he couldn't do this to her! She couldn't do this to herself! Not now! Not here - in Dale Smith's scummy strip club! Not by Dale Smith! Not in REAL life!
"It's showtime!"
He flipped her over his knee and massaged her pale ass cheeks. She gasped! He spread her wide... so wide she felt the cool air tickle her anus and pussy. A lump formed in her throat. In all her years, she had NEVER been exposed like this! Dale examined her tender asshole with his thumb, rubbing and pushing against her opening. Then he gave his thumb a sniff.
"Good news, Babs! Guess the baby wipes really work!"
"F - fuck you!! How dare you, Dale! My name's n -"
His hands tugged at her tender nips. Hard. Over and over again.
"Ooh! Oooh! Oooooohhh!" Her breathing quickened...
She gaped at the faces in the crowd.
"Ain't it funny how the table has turned, Babs?" he jeered. "Now go diddle your neglected little clitty."
"Yes sir!" she cried in despair.
Her fingers shot down to her pussy, and she began fingering herself lewdly...
One!
The first spank shocked her like an electrical jolt. "Ow!"
Two!
Three!
"My ass! You jerk! Ow!! My ass is on fire!"
She was rubbing, moaning, groaning... her feet were kicking... Dale's pants were getting wet from her juices...
Four!
Five!
Six!
"Oh no! I - I'm getting SO horny!! Damn you, Dale!!"
Her whole body trembled... sweat was raining off her body...
Seven!
Eight!
Nine!
"I'm telling you, this skank looks kinda like... Barbara! From the office!"
"Oooohh!! Oh God!! OH GOD!! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!" she screamed. Her fingers were inside and outside her pussy, pumping furiously...
TEN!!!
He pushed her to the ground.
She rolled on her back, spread her legs, massaged her hairless pussy rigorously, bucking her hips back and forth, rocking for all she's worth -
And EXPLODED!!!
She squirted all over the front row! Those pervy lawyers... stupid secretaries... loathsome low lives... Dale grinning from ear to ear...
No.
No!!!
NOOOOOOO!!!!!!
"Wow... did you see that, folks?!"
The audience erupted into LOUD cheers!!
"This isn't happening!!!!" Babs cried from the floor. Her legs were still obscenely spread, her pussy wide open...
The cheers grew even louder.
Barbara staggered to her feet, her thighs and cunt soaking wet with her juices. She was panting... still woozy from her orgasm.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I do declare, we have ourselves a gusher!" the emcee declared. "And a new winner of the $5,000 jackpot! A Babs in need, indeed! What a finale!!"
The would-be President watched the flashes bursting from the audience's cameras. In a strange way, it reminded her of her dream of being Leader of the Free World - and reporters following her everywhere. She liked that dream. In a haze, she waved and smiled back. She waved, dignified and stately, despite being bare-ass naked and having a visibly leaky pussy.
"Maybe that's why her tits are so puny!" yelled a joker. "She drained 'em dry so she could turn on the water works!"
"OH, GOD!!! WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!!!"
Babs sobbed and ran, butt naked, off the stage, hiding her face in shame! A trail of slime followed her...
Dale grinned. Things were about to get interesting in this town.
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