Chapter 1

John walked into the strip club knowing exactly what he wanted. He had singles to tip the dancers while he browsed, and fifties for the VIP room once he made his choice. Many of the dancers here remembered him.

He was generous enough with the cash to get away with calling them bitches and sluts, and pushing them around a bit. He never got rough enough to attract the attention of the bouncers, but they sensed barely controlled violence, held in check only by the threat of the much greater violence that would be visited upon him by the hired thugs that guarded the club.

Even so, the girls all knew that if they couldn't find a 'nice' guy who parted with his money more easily, they'd work their way over to John, knowing that a quick hand job or blowjob could earn them a few hundred dollars.

John was in the mood for something new tonight. He scowled and grumbled at the regular dancers who approached him. Then he saw her, the diminutive, shapely brunette making her way around the room.

She wore her hair up, in tight dark curls, and was dressed simply in a short toga costume that barely covered her round ass. She didn't wear the standard acrylic platform heels favored by the majority of the dancers, but instead wore sexy high-heeled sandals that laced up around her legs to just under her knee. As soon as he saw her he knew that he needed to have her.

The DJ announced "Put your hands together for Melissa! Catch Melissa if you want to spend some time in the VIP room. Next up: Pandora!" John's desired objective for the night slid off the lap of the man she had been teasing, and with feline grace and an air of complete self-confidence, made her way to the stage.

Once on the raised, mirrored platform she started to sway fluidly to the music, and unclasped one shoulder of her toga, revealing a perfect, B-cup breast, with a large, erect nipple and small dark brown areola. She swung around the pole a couple times, making eye contact with a number of men, but always coming back to lock eyes with John.

She unclasped the other shoulder and now was topless, her firm breasts bouncing pertly as she danced. She stared directly into John's eyes as she untied the belt that held her costume on, and saw his look of pleasant surprise as she revealed the soft dark hair of her pubic mound as her toga dropped to the stage.

She stepped out of it, spun around and grabbed the pole low, spreading her legs and parting her round ass to reveal the tight pucker as though it were winking at her admiring onlooker.

Twenty minutes later, after a hefty tip with the bouncer secured a few songs worth of privacy in the VIP room, John had Pandora naked on his lap, his face between her perfect breasts, her tight cheeks squeezing the outline of his thick, hard member through his khaki pants.

"C'mon, bitch," he growled. "I came here to bust a nut. Stop teasing and suck my dick so I can head home to my cow of a wife."

"Oh, sweetie," she purred in some vaguely European accent that John couldn't quite place, "I can do better than that ... you don't want to do it here in this nasty place, do you? You could come back to my place, yes? Then you could take me in any hole you want when you bust that nut."

"Seriously? You think I'm going home to some dump with a skanky cunt like you? Give me a fucking break. You'll probably give me AIDS. Then your fucking biker boyfriend will rob and throw me in a ditch. Just suck my dick, you stupid twat."

John wrapped a handful of her thick black curly hair and started pulling her head toward his lap. With the other hand he fumbled with his zipper to try to unleash his stiff dick.

"Okay baby, okay." Pandora managed a faint smile as she slid to her knees between his legs. "No need to push, it's one-fifty for the blowjob, two hundred without a cover."

She unsnapped her little clutch purse as John dropped the four fifties into it. She left it open on the floor, under him, as she unzipped his pants and slid them down around his ankles. His hard, heavy cock slapped his belly as she pulled down the briefs, and she aimed his shiny head toward her glistening lips with one graceful hand.

He was so enrapt by the vision of her beautiful face closing in on his cock that he didn't see her reach back into her purse with her other hand. He was so overwhelmed by the warmth of her breath on his cock that he ignored the jab in the back of his thigh as she pressed the tiny hypodermic needle into his flesh, thinking it must be a flea, an expected nuisance in a place like this.

As the drug ran its course he became putty in her hands. Pandora slid John's underwear back up and pulled up his pants. "I knew you really wanted to come back to my place, baby! Just you wait ... you're going to remember this night forever."

She slipped back into her own costume and coaxed the large man to his feet. He was in a daze, but conscious and following her guidance.

At the entry to the VIP lounge, Pandora reached into her purse and pulled out the $200 John had given, and added another $200 of her own. "This fine gentleman had a bit too much and needs a ride home, Larry," she smiled sweetly at the burly guard. "I'll pull a double shift tomorrow if you get another girl to cover for me tonight?"

"Sure thing, Pandora. Have a good night," He leaned toward John and whispered conspiratorially, "You're a lucky bastard, Pandora is the best piece of ass to come through this joint in ten years, hell ... maybe ever!"

John would have been surprised, if he was in control of his own senses, when the tiny brunette led him to a waiting limousine in the back alley of the bar, said something in a foreign language to the deferential driver, and packed him into the back seat.

The long drive was a blur, coming to end with the passage of the limousine through the large iron gates of a palatial estate secluded in a dark wooded area. Pandora had been whispering in his ear throughout the trip.

By the time she injected him with the antidote to the drug she had given him at the strip club, John firmly believed that he had accompanied the stripper to her home of his own free will, to be the guest of honor at a party she was hosting at her home.

As the limo came to a stop at the top of the long driveway, John had regained his senses, and the sensation of the gorgeous nearly nude woman snuggled close against him, stroking his heavy balls through the fabric of his pants, had aroused his substantial erection again.

"I'm glad you trusted me, John," she whispered as a toga clad doorman opened the limo. As far as John could tell as he stepped out of the car and through the doors of the secluded mansion, everyone here was dressed for a Roman-themed party. Everyone except him. And most of the people at the party were women, beautiful, sultry women of all shapes and sizes.

"You live here? What is this place?"

"I do live here ... this is the Scythian embassy." She saw his quizzical look. "You probably never heard of it, most people haven't. My home country is a small, wealthy city on the shores of the Baltic that recently regained its independence. I am the ambassador's daughter."

Pandora saw the flash of worry and sought to comfort him, at least for the moment. "Don't be concerned, my country is very progressive sexually, as is my mother, the ambassador. And besides, she's out of town, so this is my party night! I make the rules."

As they strolled through the grand ballroom, John's eyes could hardly take in all the erotic sights. All around were beautiful women of all shapes, sizes and races clad either in togas, or nothing at all.

The women moved around the mansion in groups, approaching toga clad men—all powerfully built and heavily muscled. The women would lift the hem of the chosen man's garments to expose his glistening erection, and lavish expert oral and manual attention on him.

It was not unusual to see three, four or even five women kneeling in a tight circle around a single man, spinning him gradually so that they could each engulf his throbbing manhood in turn, the others stroking his strong thighs and chest, or perhaps probing his shapely ass with their tongues.

Some of the women wandered in pairs or triplets between these larger groups, watching the action while playing with each other, deriving their pleasure by watching the spectacle.

John hardly noticed the other men, those not receiving attention from the women. All ages, shapes, colors and sizes, these men were dressed only in broad, flat, natural leather belts that were shaped to completely cover their genitals and asses, and their heads were all shaved bald.

These men moved more slowly among the crowd, never interacting except to serve a glass of wine, deliver a plate of crudités or clean up a spilled drink. At one point John saw one of the bald men being led by a tall, gorgeous naked blonde into a side room, his head held in a subservient position, his eyes downcast, as if he dared not look up at her great beauty.

"We have many more women than men in our country. Those men in exceptional condition, such as you, become our highly desired consorts and enjoy the shared attentions of many of the Sisters of Scythia at once," Pandora explained as she led John into a quiet antechamber. "Other, less blessed men serve us while enjoying the sights, sounds and scents of our nightly gatherings. These less fortunate are happy to wait for the particular, special attentions that our sisters sometimes bestow upon them. So, you see, no man's special resource is ever wasted in our progressive society."

Inside the private chamber that John was led to, two lovely, naked young girls, a blonde and a redhead, awaited the arrival of the hostess and her special guest on either side of a padded massage table.

When Pandora and John entered, the two were leaning over the table, kissing passionately; with the redhead vigorously fingering her partner's sopping pussy. The two girls started with alarm and blushed deeply when the hostess arrived. They seemed no older than eighteen to John, but he was sure he must be mistaken.