It was Friday night, the end of a great week at work, and I felt like partying. I decided to go all out, hit some of the top clubs, and see if maybe I would wake up to the sound of someone making me breakfast after a night of horizontal mattress dancing.
I rummaged through my closet and found the top I had never had the courage to wear before. It was silver, metallic and shimmery, although there really wasn't much of it—it was basically a small triangle of fabric. It had one tiny strap that went around my neck and what was little more than a string that tied around my back to hold it in place. It left my entire back bare; it hung from my neck over my breasts and ended with a point in the middle of my belly, leaving my navel exposed. It moved easily as I walked, as did my breasts, although it did maintain a semblance of modesty. Anyone could reach up under it and feel my breasts, and it basically depended on gravity to keep me covered. I had bought it on a whim at the insistence of a friend, but had never thought I could wear it in public. Tonight, I was in the mood to strut, and it somehow just felt right.
I tried on various skirts, and settled on a wrap number that was short, and cut on an angle. Wrapped around my hips it left an inverted 'V' shape open in the front, highlighting my legs and making much of my inner thighs visible, especially if I spread my legs too wide.
To finish the outfit, I pulled on a black, lacy thong, and a pair of lace-topped stockings. As the string from the thong settled between the cheeks of my ass, I felt a pulse of arousal in my sex, and thought to myself, "Maybe someone will get lucky tonight, besides me."
Finally, I put on my 4-inch stilettos, since they make my legs look great, but I can still dance in them. They also put me in a real mood to strut. I live downtown, so some of the best clubs are only a few blocks away, and the walk would help to tone up my leg muscles. I looked forward to the kind of attention I would attract when I got there.
When I arrived at Pulse, the closest club, loud music was coming out of the door, and the line-up was already half a block long. I did a full strut to the head of the line, and looked the bouncer in the eye. He looked down my body, then back up, and reached to open the velvet cord. I gave him a wink, and then made sure to put an extra bounce in my walk as he watched me walk in.
At the bar, I ordered a white wine, and then started to wander around the periphery of the dance floor. As the music began to get me in the mood, I started doing a little shimmy and bouncing on my feet. After a minute, I moved to the middle of the floor, and just started to dance with whoever was there. I danced with girls, with guys, and in the middle of various groups. I just lost myself in the music. My arms waved overhead, and various bodies pressed against me. I felt various hands sliding along my arms and my sides, and at one point I had my back pressed hard up against someone, when their hands came up under my top and quickly squeezed both of my breasts. Before I could react, the hands slid back down to my belly, then off to my sides, and the person left. I had no idea whether the hands had been male or female.
I danced for a few more minutes, alternating with more glasses of wine, and ultimately needed to go to the washroom. As I picked my way through the crowd, the press of bodies was tight, and the place was quite warm. My back and stomach were a little sweaty, and I thought the restroom would give me a chance to wipe down a little.
I went into one of the stalls, did my business and pulled my thong back up, then flushed and walked over to one of the sinks. The restroom door opened, and a tall brunette with long hair walked in. She was wearing a blue mini-dress with a deep neckline, exposing much of her upper breasts. She was quite beautiful, with angular features that set off her jawline and her mouth. She stopped for a second, scanning the room; except for the two of us, it was empty. She reached behind her for a moment, and then walked up behind me, and I lifted my eyes from the sink to look at her in the mirror.
"Nice top," she said, flicking her eyes over my back, then back up to mine in the mirror.
Her eyes were a piercing blue, and seemed to lock mine in place as I said, "Thank you." The next words from her shocked me.
"Take it off."
"What did you say?"
"I said 'take it off'."
"I'm not taking my top off for you."
"Well, if you don't take it off, I'll break both of the straps, and take it with me. You'll have to walk out of here half-naked unless you can find someone to lend you some clothes."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because I want to and because I can. And because I like little girls like you. Now get it off before I smack you a few times and tear it off."
The threat of violence scared me, and I reached a shaky hand behind me to untie the bow. I looked again in the mirror, and I could see her getting impatient.
"I said off. Get moving."
I lifted the rest of the cloth over my head, and stood with my arms to my sides, one hand holding the top. She looked over my shoulder into the mirror.
"Put your top on the vanity, and put your hands behind your head."
I hurried to comply, as she reached around me with both hands and grasped my breasts firmly. She whistled once as she massaged them, and said, "Nice tits. You must like these."
Her fingers moved to my nipples, and rolled them between her thumb and index finger. As the pressure increased, and she pulled them harshly out in front of me, I gasped and started to whimper. "Quiet, or I'll give you a reason to cry."
Suddenly, she spun me around, and pushed my ass up against the sink. Crouching, she reached under my skirt and found my thong. She yanked it down to my knees, and shoved her hand back up under my skirt. As she rubbed her hand over my mound, she laughed cruelly, and said, "I thought you'd probably be wet, slut."
Two fingers were rammed into me all at once, and I went up on my toes to escape the sudden pain. She laughed again, and pulled back a little, then shoved back with three fingers this time. I let out a little scream, and she said, "Wait until I get my whole hand in there slut. Then you'll have a reason to scream."
The thought of this cruel woman ramming her fist into me scared me, but at the same time a jolt went through my stomach. I had never had feelings like that, but then I had never had a strong woman simply grab me and begin molesting me.
As her fingers sawed in and out, she moved her thumb to my clit and started rubbing it. She was rough, uncaring of how I liked to be touched. While it was me who was receiving the attention, I got the impression that it was she who was getting the enjoyment.
The combination of the fear and her rough treatment of my pussy suddenly caused my arousal to flare, and I started moaning in a low voice.