Moonshine Dancer

The man hurried back through the curtain, his head hanging low; for a moment, Fey remained on her knees, befuddled. The red light did not blink; she was to remain for the full two hours, no matter how quick the man was... and thus, she went back to dancing, still wearing her dress, which now sported some cum stains, and eventually brought herself to a climax, while the man's jism dried up on her skin.

After a quick shower and having put on her everyday outfit, she walked out in the back alley; sitting there in the corner, sobbing, she saw a balding man. She tapped him softly on the shoulder as she passed by him and she gasped, faintly, when he lifted his head and revealed his bloodied up mouth and broken noise... she offered him a sympathetic smile, then hurried away.

* * * * *

"So," Fey asked Yvonne, after pouring two glasses of Mr. Hughes' new moonshine, "how are things under?"

"Wonderful," Yvonne scoffed. "It's... yeah, fucking marvelous."

"That bad, huh?" Fey's face darkened.

"Even worse," Yvonne nodded, with a pathetic smile. "Basically, it's a whorehouse for the seriously perverted and demented—it's one of those things no one talks about, for obvious reasons. Almost nothing's off limits; exceptions being anything that may leave permanent scars, or serious injury."

"So, what happened today?" Fey inquired; a sip of moonshine lit a scorching fire in her gut.

"Trust me," Yvonne said after swilling down her own glass, "you don't want to know." She looked away absentmindedly and her blank gaze drilled a hole in Fey's soul.

* * * * *

Days turned into weeks; every day, twice (and sometimes thrice) per day, Fey walked into the peepshow area and men walked in—sometimes two, other times up to ten per show—fucked her, then walked away. Stan had informed her that attendance had increased for her shows, quite significantly.

This, consequently, meant she'd avoid working under for a while longer; of course, she knew that eventually she'd end up there, alongside Yvonne... someone would arrive to dwarf Irene and she'd be the next to go... very few women had managed to gain a permanent place in the rotation and those who had were the novelty acts—whether they had a very specific body type (humongous breasts, or ass) or were willing to perform acts no one else would (one woman had three shows per week with a Great Dane), they were too precious (and niche) to let go.

Fey, however, was adamant in her refusal to significantly alter her body, or perform deviant acts, just to secure her place; if, when, she was transferred to the whorehouse, she'd... quit? She didn't know; Yvonne's descriptions, however, and, particularly, her blank gaze had strengthened her conviction that time had come to move on... eventually.

Dressed in thigh-high boots and an elegant, satin dress with a deep neckline and a high slit that reached up to her ass (and no underwear) she walked in the dancing room and commenced swirling around the pole, the initial routine to get the spectators' blood boiling in anticipation... she constantly stole curious looks of the curtain, wondering, like always, who'd come through...

She gasped and remained frozen still on her knees, her arms high above her head embracing the pole; Irene walked in with a debonair look she never had before seen in her, naked but for gold high-heel platforms and a monstrous strap-on longer and thicker than Fey's forearm.

It was Irene's overall sight, however, that had rendered Fey utterly and hopelessly speechless (and breathless); she approached her steadfastly—with a sadistic smile brightening her face up—holding the heavy plastic cock straight up, and rather threateningly, and all Fey could think of was how Irene resembled an ancient goddess, Aphrodite turned cruel from life's hardships.

"Come on, get to it," Irene said harshly, slapping the dildo across Fey's face, wiping thus off her mesmerized look.

Without a word, Fey opened her mouth wide and took the tip of the light-purple dildo in; it could barely fit, yet Irene forcefully pushed it deeper in, swaying her hips rhythmically... Fey's mouth was fully stuffed, but, Irene did not seem to notice, nor care.

She simply continued pushing, gradually burying more and more of the humongous plastic cock down Fey's mouth and throat, going deeper and deeper... quickly, tears welled up in Fey's eyes, as she choked on the monstrosity; all the while she focused her stare solely on Irene's cold, lovely honey-colored eyes, momentarily even forgetting they were being watched by paying customers that didn't like feeling completely neglected.

Irene continued pushing the dildo down Fey's throat, having forced half of it down and finally meeting unbeatable resistance; instead, however, of slowing down, she fastened the pace of her slamming, driving the cock harder and harder down Fey's stuffed throat; Fey gagged and choked, tears had glazed her eyes and she tried to direct her glance toward the peeping windows, imagining the men behind the one-way windows masturbating to the sight... and yet, for the first time, her wetness was not a result of being watched.

Suddenly, Irene pulled the cock out of Fey's mouth; Fey heaved, quickly trying to catch her breath while suppressing her gagging... Irene knelt down and they were face-to-face; Irene's beaming eyes warmed Fey's heart and she offered her an exhausted smile...

Irene pressed her lips on Fey's and they locked in a passionate, fiery kiss that caused Fey's heart to skip a beat... eagerly, she grabbed Irene's firm ass, squeezing the cheeks, while she sucked on her tongue... Irene's hand was on Fey's already on fire pussy, her fingers hard, but tenderly at the same time, spreading and rubbing her labia, her thumb on her clit, rubbing circularly.

Fey squirmed and a smile broke on her face while they were kissing; a soft moan escaped her mouth, when two fingers slipped in her... quickly, the two fingers turned into four, and Irene shoved her hand deep in Fey, stretching her... preparing her...

And Fey did not mind; she loved the intensity, as she caressed Irene's ass, her fingernails gently digging into her soft, smooth, white skin... the pounding turned even harder, rocking Fey's body violently, as Irene's smile turned sinister.

The kiss was stopped abruptly by Irene, who then forcefully pushed Fey on her back. She picked her legs up on her shoulders and slapped the heavy dildo on Fey's stomach, before she rubbed the thick, mushroom tip on Fey's wet labia...

Irene began to push, biting the corner of her lips... the head was in and Fey was writhing and screaming, it was far too thick, far thicker than anything she'd ever tried before... and yet, one brief look at Irene's beautiful facial characteristics was enough not completely to eradicate the pain of being stretched out but to at least minimize the painful impact and instead let her mind focus on the pleasure, on the... magnificently bizarre sensation of being thusly used and stretched.

Half the dildo was in and Fey was already beyond well-stuffed... and yet, the harshness and coldness of Irene's eyes told her she was not done yet; Irene was thoroughly enjoying it, and subsequently Fey found herself immensely enjoying the abuse despite herself.

Irene pushed harder, deeper... "too deep," Fey moaned heavily, as Irene buried more of the plastic monstrosity in Fey's stretched cunt, pounding hard and with every long thrust driving more inches of thick, heavy plastic in Fey... "shut up and take it," Irene commanded Fey in a cruel, cold tone... even her tone, the cruelty of her voice, turned Fey on even more, bringing her closer and closer to climaxing, numbing her mind and body, as her toes curled in the boots and her legs were shaking uncontrollably...

It was a realm of pleasure hitherto completely unknown to Fey and she was loving every moment of this hard abuse... and knowing people were watching her being brutalized simply added to the overall experience... fireworks exploded in her head, spasms overtook her stomach and her leg-muscles contracted wildly, when she came screamingly... could the spectators understand she was not faking it this time, unlike the past few weeks?

Irene could tell she was not; she pulled out, leaving Fey's pussy gaped and gushing... her smile broadened and brightened... she went down on Fey and commenced eating her out, flapping her tongue inside Fey's still convulsing cunt, sensing her trembling and writhing, her eyes beaming with satisfaction.

And Fey kept her legs spread wide open, lowering her dress underneath her breasts as she began to rub and twist her nipples, while moaning low and deep; Irene then unzipped Fey's dress and violently pulled it off of her.

She then sucked and bit Fey's breasts, once more rubbing the dildo on Fey's soaked, gaped cunt... lying atop of her, now pressing her lips tight on Fey's, she shoved the dildo in once again... and this time it went in with ease, gliding deep, and she slammed the plastic cock hard in Fey's cunt, while kissing her and fondling her breasts.

Fey wrapped her legs around Irene's thin waist, tight, pushing her even deeper in her, wishing to feel Irene's body glued to hers... a sudden desire waking up in her for them to become one, one body giving and taking at the same time, as their kiss intensified and from cruel (and somewhat mocking) it became real, actual passion demonstrated from both parties.

Irene's hitherto cold, impassionate gaze warmed up, as she stared dead into Fey's watery, adoring eyes, while the pounding ensued, albeit this time it was slower, more methodical... the plastic cock driven deep and hard, but, the thrusts contained compassion, a desire to cause an even stronger and more intense orgasm than the one before...

It came, the orgasm, and Fey cried out in sheer pleasure; Irene pulled out, still lying heavily atop Fey, kissing her on the neck, the shoulders, the breasts, while Fey screamed and squirmed, cum gushing out of her cunt...

With quick, yet thoughtful, moves, Irene got up and unstrapped the dildo from her waist; Fey watched under her blurry eyesight, in orgasmic fascination, Irene sitting on her face—her shaved, soft pussy right on Fey's mouth.

Immediately, Fey stuck her tongue out and let it slide in Irene's pussy, tasting her sweetness; and Irene put on a final show for the spectators, as she grinded her crotch against Fey's mouth, following the movements of Fey's tongue, while she pressed her breasts and rubbed her nipples, moaning loudly—and Fey could tell the moans were only partly real, which only increased her determination to do better, as she flapped her tongue faster inside Irene, having taken a firm hold of Irene's ass, slowly letting her fingers go near her tight asshole...

Fey teased Irene's ass, rubbing her finger lightly around her anus ring, thoroughly enjoying Irene's soft squirming, while she continued to move her tongue fast and circularly deep in Irene's wet pussy; Irene's moans grew louder, and more sincere, and she intensified her grinding on Fey's face, glazing her with her wetness... Fey's pussy was once more on fire and she pressed her thighs together, trying thusly to rub herself, clenching and unclenching her muscles...

She felt Irene's convulsions, as she writhed and fell forward, panting heavily and loudly; Irene ejaculated all over Fey's face in an intense moment, showering her with cum... and Fey could not help but smile at her accomplishment, having turned Irene's initially fake moans into a real, strong orgasm, while she continued sucking on Irene's convulsing pussy... Irene climbed off of Fey's face and for a moment remained sitting on all fours on the floor, heaving...

Fey turned her head sideways, gazing with sheer satisfaction at Irene, and moved her hand down to her clit, rubbing herself hard, masturbating to the sight of sweat-covered Irene panting on the floor... "fuck," Fey sighed and came for a third, and final, time... The red light blinked and they helped each other out of the dancing area.

"Look, Irene, I want to..." Fey tried to initiate a conversation.

"Job well done, don't you think?" Irene winked at her—interrupting Fey mid-sentence—and hurried to the dressing room, leaving Fey naked and aghast in the dark gorilla position, while Beth (a nearly 7-foot redhead dressed all in leather) walked past her carrying a small bag filled with whips, toys, and chains.

* * * * *

"It's time for us to go," Yvonne said sternly, as she and Fey were in Fey's apartment, drinking moonshine. "I can't take that fucking whorehouse anymore. Do you know what happened to me today? A fat, disgusting slob came, wanting to sit on my face... the fucker wanted to...

"Fey?" She poked, hard, Fey's shoulder. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Hmm?" She shook her head and turned her dreamy gaze to Yvonne. "Yes, of course! You were talking about... your day, that client..."

"Right," she rubbed her eyebrows. "Did you hear the part of us having to go?"

"Go? Go where?" Fey asked, suddenly more alert.

"Away, damn it!" Yvonne exploded; then, she cleared her throat and lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper—after all, even walls have ears.

"No, no, we can't, we..." Fey shook her head in protest. "Why would we go? Where would we go? We're safe here, we're..."

"A guy shat in my mouth today!" Yvonne said enraged. "And I could do nothing about it, except take it. Do you understand that? And I was only allowed a fifteen-minute break to wash up and rest, before I was thrown back in my room, so that another filthy pervert could come and violate my ass with three toys the size of my fucking arm.

"I don't know what you're thinking about, where you're at mentally, what you want, but, I'm not going to take it any longer. I'm done," she spat.

"Look, Yvonne," Fey took Yvonne's hand in hers, "I get it, okay? But, I just can't... I don't know..."

"Honey," Yvonne's voice turned softer, "you're scared; I get it. I was too... still am, damn it. It's just... as I've told you, one day, you'll be taken to the whorehouse too... and... quite frankly, I don't want you to go through the same shit. Okay?

"I don't think you could ever take it, and... we both deserve better, don't you think? Is being a peepshow dancer in a secluded neighborhood—ran by a demented mafia boss, who still thinks selling moonshine is a good idea—your lifelong dream, all you want to be?"

"No, I... I don't know," Fey closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead—it was now Yvonne who was holding her hand.

"What happened today? You were also getting sick of all this... sick of all the guys coming in to fuck you..."

"It's... nothing," she sniffled and lifted her watery eyes to look into Yvonne's. "Maybe, you're right; maybe, we should just quit."

"Quit?" Yvonne chuckled, dryly. "You don't just quit on Mr. Hughes, honey."

"But, he said..." Fey protested.

"Yeah, I know," Yvonne nodded. "He says that to everyone; 'I'm not running a slave-market, that was my Grandpa's Grandpa business, everyone's free to quit, to do what they want,' blah blah blah," Yvonne's attempt to smile failed miserably. "It's just what he says to make you stay, by making you believe you have a choice.

"I know three people who actually quit; few days later, they were found dead in some dark alley... their bodies disfigured from whatever hellacious torture they were put through before... I shouldn't know that, no one should know that, but... word got around... some guys talked, some girls heard... more people were punished, for knowing, for spreading the word.

"It's how Mr. Hughes works, Fey," she said with a mellower voice. "You can't quit on him, he doesn't like it. And, when he doesn't like something, he makes sure it doesn't happen; a very simple way of thinking, yet, highly effective."

"I don't know," Fey said, absentmindedly... then, abruptly, her eyes beamed. "Okay, yes, maybe we should just go," she added, in an animated voice.

* * * * *

"Irene," Fey tenderly grabbed her from the wrist, stopping her, "I need to talk to you."

"Oh, sure," Irene giggled with a shrug. "What's wrong?" She asked impatiently, when Fey remained silent, mesmerized.

"Right," she shook her head violently. "Look, I just wanted to ask if... wanted to let you know," she stumbled on her words—in her head, she had practiced the speech so many times, she thought it'd be easy-peasy, but... as she stood there, staring at Irene in her short, checkered skirt and white shirt warmly embracing her breasts, her erect nipples visible under the thin fabric, nothing could come out of her mouth but a soft sigh.

"Fey," Irene said coldly, "spit it out; I'm on in ten minutes. What is it?"

"I just wanted to say... thank you for last time, for..." she blurred out, unable to utter the practiced words.

"Oh, don't fret over it, it was fun," Irene chuckled, more relaxed. "Just... don't overthink the whole thing, okay? It's just a job, after all."

"Right, yes, of course," she tried to smile, but, the dagger in her heart had already been twisted. "One other thing," she said, when Irene turned about, ready to leave. "Come with me."

"Where?" Irene lifted an eyebrow, curiously scanning Fey, who had crossed her hands behind her back, gently swaying in anticipation. "Look," Irene continued, in a harsher voice, "I don't know what you think that one time meant, but, I can assure you, it meant nothing.

"It was just work; I was told to do it and I did. Granted," she offered Fey a bright, heartwarming smile, "I did enjoy it, but... it doesn't mean anything. If asked, I'll do it again, and that's all there is to it."

"I see," Fey lowered her gaze, a lump blocked her throat. "All right, it's... fair," she combated the welling tears. "I just wanted to let you know that... look," she lifted her gaze, with more confidence, despite her racing heart—she explained to Irene the rules of the game, the demotions, what's to follow, describing Yvonne's fall to the whorehouse, her own fall... inwardly praying Irene would see the ugliness of it all and... what?

"I'm not going anywhere," was Irene's cold, scornful reply, when Fey concluded her tale by asking Irene to join her and Yvonne out in the real world. "I don't care if your friend is now working under, forced to eat shit by men, I don't give a damn, if you once were the star attraction and now have to get fucked daily just to avoid going under too.

"I'm not losing my spot, I can promise you that. I'm earning more than I did in Vegas, or L.A.; hell," she chuckled, "I'm making more than when I was an escort in New York. So... go, make your grand escape, see how the rest of the world treats you.

"I'm staying right here. Now, I have to get to work; people are dying to see me dance," she winked with a sardonic smile at Fey and rushed past Fey, not giving her a chance to rebuke—Fey remained still, helplessly staring at Irene's swaying hips till she walked out of her sight.

* * * * *

"When are we going to do it?" Yvonne impatiently asked, swirling the moonshine in her glass.

"I don't know," Fey sighed. "Soon, I guess; I just..."

"What's holding you up? What is it that makes you want to stay? Seriously, Fey."

"Nothing, I'm just... scared. Is that so wrong?" She protested.

"No, honey, it's not," Yvonne's voice quickly mellowed down. "It's perfectly normal; few people are truly fond of drastic changes, but... we have to do it. We'll make it, we'll find a better life; this, I promise you."