Chapter 2

We skirted most of the rush hour traffic by staying off the main arteries. I followed him to a fancy looking private club which, according to the almost indiscernible sign beside the door is called Indulgence. I never even knew it existed! I parked beside his Escalade and followed him to the door. It was opened for us and a big, beefy guy welcomed Mr. Voss by name. He barely glanced at me.

We stepped inside and a beautiful young woman in the shortest, tightest, little black dress I’ve ever seen smiled, addressed Mr. Voss by name and asked if he’d like a table for two.

He smiled at her and shook his head. He said, “Three. I’m expecting Mr. Corbet to join us in a few minutes.”

Another woman wearing a sexy dress very similar to the one the hostess is wearing appeared and the hostess told her where to seat us. We followed her through the restaurant, passing tables and booths occupied more often than not by prosperous looking older men. Every now and then I spotted an extremely attractive young woman sitting with a man or several men. But most of the customers are men. We ended up at a small semicircular booth against the far wall. I mentally shrugged and reasoned that at least we don’t stand out. On the other hand, no one’s going to look at us and think I’m having dinner with my father.

At Mr. Voss’ direction I slid into the booth and sat in the center. A waitress appeared immediately. I sat staring down at the table while he ordered a bottle of wine and an appetizer. I didn’t remind him until after she left that I’m not yet twenty-one. He gave me one of those “just how stupid are you” looks but didn’t respond. Instead he said, “A friend of mine is joining us for dinner. I want you to keep in mind that you signed over the rights to your body to me today. If you give me a hard time I won’t fire you. I have other more interesting ways to punish women who disappoint me.”

That pretty much put everything in perspective! I nodded without speaking.

The wine arrived. I waited in silence while they played out the opening ceremony. Mr. Voss swirled the wine around in his glass, sipped it and nodded his approval. The waitress poured a glass for Mr. Voss and then for me. After she walked away I took a sip. I didn’t care for it at first. I don’t drink very often. When I have wine I normally drink white wine. But after a couple of sips my palate adjusted and I found this red wine tastes pretty good.

Mr. Voss rested his hand on my thigh and asked a little more about me. For the first time he asked about my major and what I plan to be when I grow up; computer science and I don’t know.

He asked about my living arrangements and the family from whom I’m renting a room. For some reason he seemed to want me to supply an unusual amount of detail. I described their home, a large, older home on the edge of town. He had a lot of questions about the family I’m staying with. They’re a family of five, the parents and two boys and a girl. The oldest boy is seventeen, the twins are fifteen. The parents are in their mid to late thirties and no, they aren’t the kind of people who might come across any movies I might make. They’re very religious, very uptight.

He asked for enough detail about the people I’m living with that I began to get nervous. His probing questions made me think he’s asking out of more than idle curiosity. He asked a lot of questions about my relationship with each member of the family. The truth is I don’t have much of a relationship with them. I rent a one room studio apartment from them. I have, but seldom use, kitchen privileges. It isn’t very often I can afford real food. For the most part I eat tuna sandwiches or something else just as satisfying. I miss food but I can’t deny that my poverty diet is great for my figure.

I don’t eat my meals with the family. I don’t watch television with them. I occasionally run into them outside when I’m entering or leaving their home but except for those chance encounters I see them only when I pay my rent. My little studio apartment occupies about a quarter of the basement. It’s been walled off from the rest of the basement, finished and furnished moderately well. I have my own tiny bathroom. There’s a connecting door to the rest of the basement through which I can access the kitchen on the first floor if I wish. But I have my own entrance from outside and only very rarely go upstairs. They seem to prefer to make believe I’m not there and I guess I do, too. I like my privacy.

I was getting so nervous about all the questions that I was almost relieved when a tall, thin, middle aged man suddenly appeared. Mr. Voss looked up and nodded. He said, “Hey, Bill. How’s it hangin’?”

Bill leered at me and replied, “It’s still hangin’. This is your new starlet?”

Mr. Voss nodded and poured wine in his glass. He topped off my glass and his own and then said, “Yeah. She’s gonna need some training. But I like her looks, so young and innocent. I think I’m going to make some money on this one.”

Bill finally sat down and slid around the booth until he was sitting right beside me. He ogled me for a minute and then asked, “How old are you darlin’? You look like jailbait.”

I told him my age. He looked at me skeptically, then smiled at Mr. Voss and said, “Damn! The bitch could pass for sixteen easy!”

That’s the second time today someone has called me a bitch. It’s actually one of the milder things I’ve been called but for some reason it bothers me more than when they call me a cunt or a slut. And I’m not even sucking his cock! Or at least I’m not yet. But of course I sat there meekly and said nothing as Bill confidently let his right hand come to rest on my other thigh and took a sip of his wine.

I should have been ... I don’t know, furious, scared, embarrassed. I am some of those things. I’m nervous and I’m most definitely embarrassed. A complete stranger is squeezing my thigh. But I feel the heat building in my belly and between my thighs. I feel the tingling. If I had a choice I’d probably get up and leave right this moment. I’m trying not to be aware of how glad I am that I don’t have a choice. Because even knowing how wrong this is I know this strange situation is beginning to turn me on.

And then Bill turned the thermostat way up. His hand slid down past my knee and then began slowly moving back up my thigh. But this time his hand was resting on my skin, pushing my skirt up ahead of it until I felt his large fingers come into contact with the soft, silky material of my panties. I made no effort to stop him. I didn’t even try pressing my knees together. The truth is I don’t want to stop him. I would prefer that they don’t know that about me. But at the moment I don’t seem to be thinking very clearly and the small amount of alcohol I’ve consumed has very little to do with it.

Bill gently massaged my mound over my panties and as if I weren’t even there he asked Mr. Voss, “Have you fucked her yet?”

Mr. Voss pulled my skirt up on his side, exposing the lower half of my panties before he answered, “No. I had her strip down and suck my cock this afternoon. She says she’s only sucked a few guys off and only let one of them cum in her mouth. After seeing the way she reacted when I shot a load in her mouth I have to believe her. She’s going to need a lot of practice.”

Bill nodded and said, “They can be a lot of work when they’re new. But I’ve always enjoyed breaking them in when they don’t know their asses from a hole in the ground.”

“Yeah. I get a kick out of that, too. This one’s going to be a lot of fun. I like them about this age and I get a big kick out of it when they’ve had so little experience. I showed her that partial list of things she’ll have to do when she starts making movies. You should have seen her face. She doesn’t even know what some of that shit is.”

Mr. Voss smiled at me then but it wasn’t a warm, friendly smile. He said, “Take your underwear off.”

A shiver ran through my entire body and I felt the heat increase under Bill’s fingers where they’re still lightly massaging my pussy. I waited for one of them to stand up so I can slide out and go to the ladies room. No one moved. Mr. Voss cocked his eyebrow at me and asked, “What did I tell you about giving me a hard time?”

I gaped at him for a second or two before it suddenly struck me what he was demanding of me. I gasped and exclaimed in disbelief, “I’m not! You mean ... here?! Now?! I thought...”

“No one asked you to think. Thinking is above your pay grade. Just do what the fuck you’re told!”

I felt as though my entire body was covered with goose bumps as I reached down and worked my panties down and off. They both moved their hands away just long enough for me to remove my panties but as soon as I settled back into my seat their hands returned to my upper thighs and Bill’s fingers began to explore my exposed pussy.

They’re both still watching me expectantly. I looked around at the other customers I can see from our booth. More than a few of them are watching me. They must know what I just did. I turned to Mr. Voss and explained, “I can’t take my bra off without unfastening my dress.”

I’m so stupid! I assumed he thought I’d be able to remove my bra the way I might if I were wearing a loose blouse. He rolled his eyes, telling me without words that he can’t believe I’m intelligent enough to be a college student.

I leaned forward, reached back with difficulty and slid the zipper down on my dress. I couldn’t keep myself from looking around again. Even more of the customers around us have become aware of my plight and are enjoying the show. I swallowed loudly and with shaking hands I pulled the top of my dress down and let it fall to my lap. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life and I’ve experienced a lot of embarrassment lately. I can feel the blood pounding in my ears. I can hear it. I can hear my heart beating a mile a minute as I reach back and my trembling fingers struggle with the clasp on my bra.

My mind did the math with no help from me. There must be at least two dozen people sitting at the tables around us and by now every one of them is surely watching as I bare my breasts in this restaurant or club or whatever it is.

I placed my bra on the seat between me and Mr. Voss and tried not to look like I was hurrying as I stuck my arms back into my sleeves and tried to pull the top of my dress back on. Bill stopped me. He turned slightly in his seat and his free hand cupped my right breast as casually as if the two of us were alone somewhere.

I gasped and then moaned as his thumb and finger clamped down on my nipple. It felt so fucking good! He pulled and twisted and said to Mr. Voss, “Nice tits. Nice nipples. She’s gonna be popular. Sensitive, too; she likes it.”

Mr. Voss nodded and said, “Yeah. I almost told her to fuck off when she called. She was pretty snotty when I met her the first time and she had a long list of shit she wouldn’t do. But she was desperate for money and she did a short scene for me in a movie I made a few weeks ago. I’ve already gotten some feedback on that. People want to see more of her. They like her innocent looks. Everyone loves to see a tight ass little bitch like this getting corrupted.”

For some reason, even hearing those cruel words, hearing that he intends to corrupt me is exciting! But then, isn’t that what I was hoping for when I called and asked him to put me to work?

Mr. Voss pulled the top of my dress back down off my arms again and said, “I like seeing you with your tits hanging out. Leave it like that.”

I almost had an orgasm! And then, a minute later with their hands groping my tits and two of Bill’s fingers buried deep in my pussy I did exactly that!

They chuckled as they watched me recover from a rather strong orgasm. I was still slumped in my seat with both men groping me when our waitress returned with our appetizer. She blushed when she saw me. We both did. But she didn’t say a word.

The men finally removed their hands from my body and picked up their menus. I forgot all about being topless in a public place and the fact that I just experienced an orgasm sitting between two strange men at a restaurant table. I remembered that I haven’t had a decent meal in months. I picked up my menu but my breath caught in my throat when I saw the prices. HOLY SHIT!!

Should I assume Mr. Voss is paying for my meal? I can’t even afford to pay for the appetizer tray she just delivered! I thought about it for a moment and decided he must have brought me here expecting to feed me. If not there’s going to be another embarrassing scene at the end of the meal. Because I’m going to order a fucking steak!

I made my selection and put the menu down. I sipped my wine and nibbled at the variety of finger foods on the appetizer tray. The men left me alone until after the waitress returned and took our orders. Then, once again I became the center of attention. But they didn’t just grope me. Things started getting a little weird.

Bill picked up a deep fried chicken finger and ignoring the sauces provided by the waitress he reached down and slowly inserted it into my drooling pussy. It struck me as an incredibly immature thing to do, the sort of thing you might expect from a warped thirteen year old boy. Not a grown man twice my age!

Both men were smiling at the look of distress on my face as Bill gently worked the almost too warm piece of meat inside of me. The crispy coating was slightly uncomfortable and I couldn’t help wondering how difficult it would be to get myself clean again when they finished playing their puerile game. But I know without asking that nothing which happens in this club tonight is up to me. I can only resolve to be a piece in the silly game they’re playing and think of it as just the sort of thing I might have fantasized about ... even though I know it isn’t. But at least it isn’t painful.

I tried to look outraged, mainly because I’m pretty sure that’s the reaction they’re looking for. But the truth is, as the initial shock begins to fade, sitting here, naked for all intents and purposes, in a public place while being groped by two men I hardly know and having food shoved in my pussy while all around us people watch in amusement is much more erotic than I ever would have imagined. I was so humiliated when he pulled the chicken out of my pussy and placed it to my lips that I nearly climaxed again!

After that they took turns dipping various appetizers into my pussy and either eating them or feeding them to me. It got really strange, and more than a little disgusting, when I reached for my glass to take a sip of wine. Bill stopped my hand halfway and in a concerned voice asked, “Thirsty little girl?”

When I turned my head to look at him he reached up and slipped his fat, greasy thumb into my mouth. We stared into each other’s eyes as he gripped my cheek between his thumb and forefinger like a fish he’d just reeled in and slowly pulled my face closer to his. He glanced up at Mr. Voss, grinned for a moment and then he looked back into my eyes. His lips neared mine and even though his hand remained in the way I thought he intended to kiss me.

Kissing him would have been disgusting enough. But that isn’t what he had in mind. He worked his thumb in between my teeth forcing my jaws to part and my mouth to open even farther. Then I watched in horror as he worked up a big glob of spit and let it fall into my mouth.

I gagged and tried to pull away but he snarled, “Don’t you fucking move, cunt!”

I stopped struggling. It isn’t getting me anywhere anyway. He repeated the process twice more before he released me. I grabbed my napkin intending to spit his saliva out but his hand gripped my throat and he growled, “Swallow it, bitch. Swallow it and thank me for giving you a drink. If you’re still thirsty you can climb under the table. I’ll have to take a piss pretty soon.”

My mind went numb with shock. I swear. There wasn’t a thought in my head at that moment. I stared into his eyes and with a great deal of difficulty I managed to swallow. I think this disgusting act grossed me out more than swallowing Mr. Voss’s cum earlier. But then the strangest thing happened. As images of what Bill just did to me played through my addled mind I felt the tingling in my pussy grow more pronounced. It had been a horrible thing to do to another person. It was degrading, humiliating beyond belief; made all the more so by the fact that we have a rather large, very amused audience.

But, as I sat there with another chicken finger being gently worked into my drooling cunt I found myself thinking about what it would be like if he actually tried to make me drink his piss! I’m all but certain I couldn’t. I’d puke then for sure. But the idea of it! It’s such a horrible concept that my body shuddered in revulsion ... yet inexplicably, I experienced a mild climax as I imagined it.

It wasn’t until Bill began to squeeze the hell out of my nipple that I remembered to thank him for giving me a drink. The men returned to dipping their appetizers in my pussy and eating them. I was finally able to take another sip of wine. I tried not to think about driving home after drinking an alcoholic beverage. I rarely drink, so drinking and driving isn’t something to which I’ve had to give a lot of thought. I’ve always assumed it’s something I’d never do. It could be a problem this evening because I can’t really afford to take a taxi or an Uber; not if I don’t want to give up eating altogether.

Our meals arrived and the two men left me alone while we ate. I’m still sitting in a public restaurant as good as naked but my steak is so good I almost don’t care anymore! I began to notice that both men are checking their watches from time to time. It made me nervous. It’s a reminder that the evening won’t end with the meal. I wonder what will follow. But I’m not too worried. After all, it’ll just be sex, right? And damn! That steak is so good! It’s been such a long time since I’ve eaten a meal this filling and this delicious.

Bill and Mr. Voss talked throughout the meal; sometimes about me, sometimes about business. Bill is apparently in a related business and from what they said I gather they often work together on various projects but I’m unable to decide exactly what it is Bill does from their cryptic comments.

We finished our meal and drank the last of the wine. Mr. Voss asked me if I need to use the ladies’ room. I nodded and he finally let me pull my dress back up over my breasts. I fastened the hook in the back but he ordered me not to bother with the zipper. He got to his feet, glanced at his watch and in a threatening voice he warned me to return within ten minutes.

It wasn’t until I stood up and began walking across the room that I noticed the restaurant has filled up. It looks as though nearly every table is occupied. I’m too embarrassed to look around. I’m still scantily dressed and I know that a lot of the people at the tables I’m passing have seen me sitting between two men old enough to be my father. They’ve watched as I sat there as good as naked and allowed both of the men to grope me to their heart’s content. Those who arrived early enough watched me serve as a dip for the appetizers. Yet as I crossed the room I found myself wondering if ten minutes would be long enough to enter a stall in the ladies room and masturbate!

I decided against it. I’m so aroused I could probably reach orgasm that quickly. But I know I wouldn’t want to stop with just one and I can feel the bits and pieces of our appetizer clinging to the opening of my pussy. They’re uncomfortable as I walk. I’ll need to clean myself out as best I can before returning to the table.

I’m aware of the knowing looks I’m receiving from some of the women when I entered the ladies’ restroom. But I can’t look anyone in the eyes. I dampened a few paper towels and went to an empty stall. I used the toilet and then spent the rest of my time cleaning my upper thighs, my belly and my incredibly wet pussy with the towels.

Mindful of the ten minutes I’d been given to accomplish all this I hurried, fearful of how I might be punished if I’m late returning to the table. While I was washing my hands I heard what sounded like a ship’s bell clanging three times. It’s apparent that the sound signaled something important. The ladies’ room began emptying out immediately.

I dried my hands quickly and followed the herd of very well dressed, attractive young women back out into the restaurant. I think it was only at that moment I came to realize that although most of the men in the place are middle age or older and appear to be very prosperous, almost every woman I’ve seen is around my age or even younger. All are dressed in expensive gowns or the sexiest little black dresses I’ve ever seen. And every woman here is incredibly attractive!

I began looking around discreetly. I didn’t see a wedding ring on any of the women around me! Are these women all mistresses or perhaps expensive call girls? If they are then they must assume I am, too. That bothered me at first. But then I realized that even if they fit into either of those two socially unacceptable categories they’re still a step up from whatever the hell I am. I’m no mistress and I’m not a call girl. I’m not sure if there’s even a category for what I am! If there is a word for a girl like me, though, I’m certain it’s derogatory.

Mr. Voss and Bill stood up as I approached the table. I assumed we were leaving. I was wrong. Without a word we turned toward a door in the back corner. Only then did I notice a steady stream of people from the restaurant entering that door. When we reached it Bill opened it and held it for us. As we passed through, a man standing just inside the door nodded and said, “Mr. Voss, Mr. Corbet, I’m glad you could make it. I think you’re going to find tonight’s show interesting.”

We had entered a theater with amphitheater style seating. It isn’t very large. There are only six rows of seating. But they aren’t theater style seats. Each row consists of about a dozen small, semicircular booths, each with its own small round table. The booths are large enough to comfortably accommodate four people and the tables just large enough for them to have a place to rest the drinks they’re ordering from the waitresses.

Unlike the waitresses out in the restaurant who are all wearing sexy little dresses, these women are only wearing the tiniest of thongs. That should have made me feel better since it’s safe to assume the top of my dress will soon be back around my waist. I won’t stand out as much if my tits aren’t the only tits on display. But there’s more of a sense of ‘anything goes’ in this strange little theater. I don’t know what’s going to happen here but I can see where things could get out of hand. I can’t say why, but I get the impression there aren’t a lot of rules in this room.

Although the seating is quickly filling up, booth after booth in an orderly fashion from the bottom row towards the top, we made our way to the first booth in the first row which had been left open by all the people who preceded us. We are sitting front row center, the best seats in the room! There’s no reserved sign or anything to indicate why anyone would not have taken this booth instead of moving on up to the back of the room. That tells me something about Mr. Voss. I’m just not certain what it tells me.

Bill took a seat at our booth. Mr. Voss seems to be waiting for me to take a seat beside Bill. I was about to sit down and slide into the center without waiting to be told but Mr. Voss stopped me. He held out his hand and said, “Give me your dress.”

I can’t help but notice that there has been a big change in the ratio of men to women in this room. It doesn’t look like there are more than a dozen women in here. I’m not certain if that’s a good thing but I’ve noticed that being humiliated the way I have been this evening is even more embarrassing when I know women are watching. On the other hand, I’ve had a lifetime of noticing that men tend to get rowdier when there aren’t women around to keep things real.

This is going to be embarrassing! It was bad enough sitting in the restaurant nearly naked. But it came about gradually and I was seated at the time which provided me with at least a little protection for what little remains of my modesty. We’re now standing in the front center of this large room and everyone in the room will have a very good view of me removing my dress. I suppose I’d better get used to that. I am, after all, about to become a porn star. I hope it gets easier!