Moonshine Dancer

"Mr. Hughes knows," Yvonne said coldly. "He knows that you're putting on shows for the neighbors. His people live in every building of this neighborhood," she answered Fey's question before she could utter it. "The only reason he lets you get away with it, is because you're his star.

"But," her voice turned stern, "don't kid yourself. As soon as someone new comes, someone just as hot and willing as you, he'll... once upon a time," she said with a sad smile, "I was his star; did you know that?

"Guys flocked to see me, because I was so tiny, and lean, and yet able, and more than willing, to penetrate myself with huge dildos and objects... God, Mr. Hughes back then would not dare touch me! And now... well, you saw what he doesn't mind have me go through nowadays."

"I didn't know, I..." Fey stopped and just rubbed her hands together, embarrassed over her complete lack of words.

"It's all right," Yvonne gave her a sad, pathetic smile. "I'm only mentioning it as a warning; no one's safe under Mr. Hughes's reign, Fey. We're all replaceable; you're safe only for as long as you remain his star attraction... same goes with all his employees... the guys you saw today, the ones that did me... once, they were his pupils, got all the good assignments, were the ones bribed from storeowners, the ones leading raids to opposing gangs' warehouses... they were leading charges, taking territories over... they helped Mr. Hughes built his empire...

"And now... they've been delegated in being expendable pawns to his larger scheme; tools he uses, when he wants to punish someone he cares far more about than he does about them. And they're fine with it—and so am I, for that matter," her head hang low. "It's just a game of survival, Fey; we do what we must."

"You shouldn't," Fey pulled her friend's head up with her finger, looking deep into her eyes. "None of us should; we have to... take our lives in our own hands."

"Ha," Yvonne laughed, dryly. "That's a good line, Fey; unfortunately, it's what it'll remain: a line taken from countless movies and novels about rebellions that succeed... but, we're not fancy heroines of a novel, baby.

"We're just trying to make the best out of the shitty cards we were dealt; that's all."

"I won't take it, I won't accept it," Fey said vehemently.

"You will, one day," Yvonne said melancholy; then, abruptly, she kissed Fey and pushed her on her back on the floor, whereupon they were sitting—she pinned her hands down on the cold wooden floor over her head, and sucked on Fey's lips.

Fey accepted the kiss eagerly, wrapping her legs around Yvonne's waist; suddenly, they stopped kissing and simply remained in their position, silently, and lovingly, staring into each other's eyes, saying everything they needed to tell to each other without muttering a single word.

Slowly, Yvonne's lips went lower, planting wet kisses on Fey's neck, shoulders, chest—she paused to suck and lick her nipples—stomach, lower stomach... Fey shivered, when Yvonne's tongue came in touch with her clit and softly swirled, arousing it tenderly and steadfastly... Fey's thighs remained pressed around Yvonne's head, holding her tight in position, as her warm tongue slithered inside of her and rapidly flapped, making her squirm and moan...

Fey was staring at the ceiling with a lustful gaze, biting down her lips, her hands buried in Yvonne's long, black hair, pushing her head closer to her wet pussy, forcing her tongue deeper in...

Yvonne lifted her gaze and smilingly looked at her friend's joyful expression; thusly encouraged, she intensified her licking and sucking, flapping her tongue faster and faster, feeling her friend's convulsions and writhing, as she rubbed her clit with a wide, beaming smile...

A loud scream escaped Fey, when a finger was thrust in her tight asshole... tongue in cunt, finger in ass, a thumb rubbing her clit, Fey arched her lower back, screaming in ecstasy, squeezing her breasts hard, as Yvonne continued working on her with both hands and tongue, deriding joy out of Fey's convulsions... suddenly, Fey erupted in a strong ejaculation, showering Yvonne's face, accompanying her climax with a loud howling...

Yvonne did not waste time and immediately went back to it, inserting her tongue in Fey's still contracting pussy, tasting her and causing even more shivers to traverse Fey's spine, as she now lay down relaxed, her legs spread on the floor, giving full access to Yvonne, who thrust three fingers in her ass, flapping her tongue in her pussy and pounding, and expanding, her asshole, joyous and enthralled...

The second orgasm hit Fey even harder, a phantasmagoria of euphoric fireworks went off in her head and she screamed and squirmed, cum gushing out of her pussy, her legs shaking violently, orgasmic spasms making her stomach contract...

Yvonne then slithered back up to Fey's face, lying atop her, and with a bright smile, and Fey's cum still dripping off her skin, kissed her... and thus they remained for a long time, in each other's arms on the floor, amid the pool of Fey's cum, kissing and staring at each other in silence, suddenly afraid to exchange a spoken word.

* * * * *

Come morning, they walked together to work, dressed in their normal, everyday outfits, avoiding garnering unwanted attention. Stan was waiting for them at the back entrance of the building, his arms crossed around his chest.

"Yvonne," he said coldly—no greetings, no smile, nothing—"Mr. Hughes says, you're working under, effective immediately."

"What?!" Yvonne gasped. "You can't be serious!"

"Do you know me as someone who jokes?" Stan fired back, sternly.

Working under was how everyone in Mr. Hughes' employment referred to the whorehouse, ran by Mr. Hughes, in the basement of the peepshow/sex-shop; it was a delegation, since the women working under were making less money for more, and harder, work.

"It can't be!" Yvonne continued to protest. "I'm still making good numbers on my shows, people attend, I..."

"Boss' orders," Stan dismissed her. "Take the stairs, go down; Hannah is waiting for you—and trust me," he whispered the last part, "you do not want to make Hannah wait, or in any way irritate her."

"This is ridiculous," Fey exasperated, watching in dismay her friend climbing down the staircase. "Is that part of my damn punishment?"

"Don't know; Mr. Hughes doesn't explain his orders, Fey."

"Shit," she sighed heavily; then, with no other options left, she hurried to the dressing room, put on a low-neck, short dress and high heels, and headed to the 'gorilla position', desperately trying to clear up her mind from all despairing thoughts.

She danced for two hours, unable completely to commit, as her mind involuntarily wandered back to Yvonne and the hardships she probably was facing—there were too many tales about the depraved fantasies the whorehouse was there to fulfill.

After the red light signaled the end of her show, Fey rushed out of the peepshow room, eager to go downstairs and check on her friend—even if it would mean additional punishment. She just needed to make sure she was all right... and then, suddenly, she froze, when she caught sight of a blindingly beautiful woman (6'4", athletically built, with big, silicone breasts and a heart-shaped firm ass) standing in the gorilla position, wearing a tight dress perfectly embracing her figure.

She offered Fey a brief, and rather absentminded, acknowledging smile and when the red light flashed she sauntered into the dancing area; Fey had forgotten about Yvonne, about the peril she could be in. She stared at the woman from behind the black curtain, her hand over her racing heart.

The nameless beauty grabbed the pole firmly and swirled around; she wrapped her long legs around it and elegantly glided down, head first, showing her lack of underwear to anyone watching from the booths; she went down on all fours, flipped her long, platinum blonde hair, and seductively licked her lips; she laid down on her back, legs spread and up in the air, as she began playing with herself, teasing her pussy...

A lump blocked Fey's throat... she walked to the back, as far away from the dancing room as she possibly could—she had two hours till her next show—and lit a cigarette.

She dragged long and slow, dense grey clouds emerging from her mouth and engulfing the room, while a dense mist clouded her mind...

"Fey!"

Stan's harsh voice rang brutally in her head, effectively putting an abrupt end to her mental wanderings.

"What?" She barked back at him.

"Mr. Hughes wants to see you, now."

"Fine," she complied without protest—there was no use.

And as she climbed up the stairs, her heart sank; in the six years she'd been working for Mr. Hughes, she had only seen him once, prior to the previous day, when he interviewed her, and subsequently hired her. It was his policy not to interfere with the people working for him, unless absolutely necessary—and absolutely necessary rarely meant something good.

"Hello, Fey," Mr. Hughes got to his feet, when she walked into his office, and offered her a seat. "You seem a bit shaken up; can I offer you anything? A drink, anything?"

"No, thanks, I'm good..." Fey sat down heavily on the leather armchair and crossed her legs high.

"Oh, please... have some of this," he offered her a glass of moonshine. "It's a new batch."

"Thank you," she took the glass and had a sniff... the scent alone was strong enough to intoxicate her.

"What do you think?" He asked, after having taken a seat behind his desk, with wild anticipation in his eyes.

"It's strong," she said, after a tiny sip, "but... good."

"Yeah, isn't it?" Mr. Hughes agreed with a beaming smile. "I'm certainly hoping it'll conquer the market... funny, isn't it?"

"What's funny?" She raised her eyebrow; she fainted interest, knowing perfectly well Mr. Hughes would tell her what was on his mind regardless of how she responded—hence, she figured, why not just humor the almighty boss?

"That my legal business is moonshine," he chuckled genuinely. "My Grandpa—God rest his rebel soul—brewed it during Prohibition; the recipe was passed down on me. Of course, Grandpa's moonshine was like gasoline. I'm fairly certain it could have been used as fuel, too.

"But, we've watered it down a bit, made it more appropriate for today's society; it's funny to think that now I'm selling my Grandpa's moonshine to all the big cities, capitalizing on nostalgia and hipsters' desire for all things vintage.

"God bless their pea-sized brains!"

"It's funny, sure," Fey nodded, nervously twisting on her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs.

"Drink up," he encouraged her. "Might make the news easier to swallow."

"News?" She inquired, her heart immediately sinking.

"I'm sure you saw Irene," he said, his voice abruptly turning stern. "Our newest acquisition, so to speak."

"You want me to teach her a thing or two? The secrets of the trade?" She asked hopefully—perfectly aware it was simply a lost cause.

"No," he chuckled. "There's no need to. She's worked in the best strip joints of Vegas and L.A.. She knows what she's doing, trust me. It's just... I wanted to let you know that Yvonne working under is not part of your punishment.

"We just had to free up some space for Irene and... well, Yvonne's novelty has faded away. Anyway," he quickly added, "there's one more thing. I want you to consider... spicing up your show."

"What do you mean?" She asked, horrified—there was no place for her to consider. It was just Mr. Hughes' polite way of saying 'here's what you're going to do'.

"I had people telling me that yesterday's show with Yvonne was a huge success... as soon as word got out that there was an actual sex show going on, people lined up for the peeping booths, they... my guys had to break up a couple of fights!

"Never before had we seen such commotion for a show; not even when Yvonne first started here, fucking herself with some of the meanest looking plastic dicks."

"So, you want me..." She whispered in surrender.

"Precisely!" He snapped his fingers, with a delighted look in his eyes. "Nothing like yesterday's, though," he hurriedly added. "We'll start you with one-on-one action, simple lovemaking. No rough shit, nothing extreme. Alright?"

"Will... Irene do it too?"

"Of course not!" Mr. Hughes roared in laughter. "Not yet, anyway. She's the novelty, Fey; you know how it works. She's the new kid in the block, the new queen of the show. For a while, she'll attract people just by dancing.

"Sure, eventually, she'll have to accept doing more, if she wants to keep her job... you know?" He winked at her meaningfully.

"Right," she nodded sadly. "I'll do it, okay," she quickly resigned. "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Of course you do," he said, his smile turning wicked. "You can always quit, Fey; I'm a fair businessman, I'm not holding you hostage, or anything! This is a business, not a slave plantation!

"My Grandpa's dad had a slave plantation, actually... somewhere in Mississippi... I still probably own the property, should go check it out, could be interesting to turn it into... oh, I'm sorry," his cold gaze turned Fey's spine numb, "I digress... happens sometimes.

"My only fault; I do love the sound of my own voice and I do have a lot of things on my mind. Anyway, so, you'll do it?"

"Yes, Mr. Hughes," she said with a trembling voice. "Who's going to be my... partner?"

"Hmm," he rubbed his chin, "don't know yet. But, I have to find you one real soon! Let's make your next show your first sex show, shall we? Better go get ready, then. Bye, knock them dead, good luck," he dismissed her and firmly pushed her out of his office.

He slammed the door shut and Fey buried her face in her palms, as she remained alone in the small lobby area. She walked to the rail and looked down at the ceiling window overlooking the dancing area... Irene was putting on a show, dancing in only her heels, kicking her legs, swirling around the pole, blowing kisses to the peeping holes (and Toms).

She sat in the back alley chain-smoking; you can quit, he had said. But, even if she did, what would she do? She could leave the neighborhood, go someplace else, somewhere were progress had been made, to a place not tied down to poverty and desolation by a stern, harsh mafia boss, who loved living in the past...

On the other hand, Mr. Hughes offered safety, a good pay, protection... and she did love her job, at least the dancing part. Maybe, she'd learn to love the new part, too; eventually. She tried to comfort herself, to convince her mind that it wasn't a delegation, just a business response to a rising need for change.

"Come," Stan tapped her on the shoulder, "time for your show."

"Right, okay," she rubbed her closed eyes and dragged one last puff, before crushing the cigarette on the pavement.

"You okay?" He asked her, with some worry apparent in his voice.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Do you know who I'm dancing with?"

"No, no one seems to know," he shook his head. "I guess... you'll find out soon enough."

"Yeah," she frowned and stepped into the gorilla position.

Irene came out of the dancing room, flushed and sweaty.

"Oh, hey," she greeted Fey with a warm smile and they shook hands. "Knock'em dead, honey," she said and patted Fey's shoulder as she walked out of the curtain and into the store, carrying her dress on her arm.

"Thank you," Fey muttered back in a faintly shaky whisper.

She drew a deep breath and massaged her temples; you can do it, you can do it, she silently repeated to herself, desperately trying to wear her wide, fake smile, wishing to look like everything's all dandy.

The light blinked; once, twice... thrice. She stepped through the black curtain, wearing the same outfit from before, and looked about; she was still alone in the room.

Instinctively, and with a vague hope Mr. Hughes had failed to find someone for the show on such short notice, she took hold of the pole and began to dance.

Suddenly, a masked man walked in; she froze as she observed her dancing partner: a bit on the fat side, with a protruding gut and short, fat legs. He was wearing a ski mask and he confidently walked towards her.

"Hi," she whispered to him, curling her lips into a smile.

"Hey," he said coldly and grabbed her ass with both hands, pulling her closer to him.

Fey gasped, but, she had no time to react; he pressed his lips on hers and began sloppily to kiss her, using too much tongue, his mouth wide open as he sucked on her tongue.

She kissed him back, trying hard to gain control of the pace, to slow him down just a bit, to... she lowered her hand and grabbed his hardening cock.

The man moaned in her mouth, as she began to stroke him, feeling him grow in her palm. At least, she thought with a faint rejoice, he's normal-sized, unlike those monsters Yvonne had to deal with yesterday...

He pushed her down on her knees forcefully and Fey took the head in her mouth; she swirled her tongue around the purple tip, looking up in his eyes, then shifting her gaze toward the peeping windows... as she took him in her mouth, bobbing while massaging his hairy balls, she pictured the guys inside the small booths watching, all wanting to come in and have a go at her... better put on a good show, she told herself.

Her lips were tightly wrapped around his shaft, as she bobbed her head, running her soft lips along the rod, holding him down her throat, while still massaging and tickling his balls, until she had to pull back for a brief breather...

Suddenly, he pulled her hair hard... and began shoving his dick down her throat, causing his balls to slap against her chin. He pushed her head against his crotch, holding her firmly there, forcing her to keep him down her throat until her slaps on his thigh grew too demanding to ignore.

She looked up at him with watery eyes and discerned a sinister smile forming underneath the black ski mask; then, he went back to roughly pounding her throat, while his moans intensified in length and volume.

After a long, hard pounding, he pulled out and Fey heaved, completely out of breath, with drool dripping down her chin. She coughed, then looked up at the man, who was staring at her with fascination, and a bizarre glint in his eyes.

He pulled her up to her feet, by the hair, and pushed her forth, forcing her to grab the pole with both hands; thusly bent she remained, shivering, overcome with excitement, as she stole glimpses of the peepholes, in her head picturing the guys enjoying watching her get ravaged... one hard thrust and he was balls deep in.

She screamed, as his cock stretched her tight pussy; at first, he took his time, with slow, nice thrusts, while holding her waist firmly.

Her grip around the pole tightened, when he increased the pace, slamming her hard, rocking her body forth with every push; she was moaning loudly and deeply, overly enjoying herself—getting soaking wet from knowing she was being watched.

The man, unaware of not being the reason for Fey's excitement, continued to pound her hard. Fey grimaced and moaned loudly, putting on a show for both the man behind her and those watching, exaggerating her enjoyment... a cry of pain escaped her mouth, when the man jerked her hair back violently and compelled her to go back down on her knees.

She opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out, as he jerked off furiously, arching his body backwards... he exploded, a large load of hot, sticky spunk landing all over her face. She tasted the salt in her tongue, swallowed the drops that ended in her mouth, and sucked his cock clean.