Shimmy Shack

[This story contains themes of nonconsensual / reluctant, coerced, rough sex and humiliation.]

Chapter 1

As she shifted awkwardly in her bus seat, Cyndi found herself feeling a little over-stimulated. A week earlier her best friend Jenn had talked her into getting a full Brazilian wax so that they would look good in their bikinis when they went to Fort Lauderdale. Now Cyndi was feeling a bit silly and a bit embarrassed at the decision. Nevertheless, as the bus rumbled and shook, she seemed to feel every little vibration. In fact, she was having a little difficulty focusing on anything without being distracted by the feeling of her bare pudenda being caressed by the silky fabric of her thong.

As the bus got close to the club where she worked, Cyndi found herself thinking about her boyfriend. She wondered if she was doing the right thing staying with Tommy. They'd been living together for about 6 months. Tommy was damn nice to look at, and very sweet to her. Even so, she wasn't sure if he was motivated to do much besides smoke weed and play video games. He looked good in his jeans though, and she liked his eagerness to make her happy in bed. That last part kind was definitely in the plus column. Still, he was a bit simple if she was totally honest with herself. She hated to think badly of him though. He'd always treated her well, and never argued.

Unhappily, Cyndi forced her mind into business mode. She was about to be on the clock, after all. No time to think about her boyfriend or her sex life. Best to keep your head in the game if you're a young woman serving drinks to a bunch of horny, lonely guys in a strip club.

Cyndi hit the time clock as she entered the employee entrance to the Shimmy Shack. She had been working there a few months and had almost gotten used to the weird routines and absurdities of a "gentlemen's" club. This was the kind of place where lonely guys paid to watch girls dance their way out of cheap costumes and where grooms-to-be agreed to be humiliated on stage for the entertainment of their horny, drunk-ass friends. Cyndi had no interest in dancing on the stage but found that she could make a decent dollar carrying trays of watered-down drinks to the customers. While she did not wear a stripper costume, Cyndi did change into something sexy to keep her tips worthwhile. After she hit the clock, she went back to the lockers and changing area to get into character.

While the dancers got into their outfits, Cyndi peeled off her jeans and slid into a mini-skirt and crop top that would show the underside of her push-up bra if she reached above her head for anything. She was wearing a Day-Glo orange striped thong underneath her mini skirt and a lacy bra that really showed off her boobs. Not that she had to try. Her perky C cups on her slight 5' frame often made even the most dignified man freeze in his tracks to try and sneak a second glance. The panties glowed neon whenever the black lights in the club shown on the material. Sometimes the side strings peeked out over the top of her skirt, and if she bent forward in the slightest a customer might catch a glimpse of the thong from another angle. In this outfit, she was quite the cock-tease. Of course, the idea was to keep the customers teased and turned on, even though Cyndi would not be giving them anything but their drinks. The more they liked her, the more they tipped.

Cyndi had started working at the Shimmy Shack to help pay her tuition, and even without dancing, she brought in at least $250 a night in tips. It wasn't a bad way to make some money and she wasn't bothered by the scene there. Sure, if you paid too close attention to what was happening, it could get a little embarrassing sometimes. For example, you might feel chagrined if you noticed the exact moment when a customer got a little too excited during a lap dance, or if you watched just how lonely and desperate some guys were. Tonight was no different. Best not to pay too close attention to what happened in the shadows.

Up on the stage "Anastasia" was working to some Chris Brown song and just about to pop the snap open on the back of her brassiere when Cyndi noticed a commotion towards the back corner where Joe (the owner of the club) usually minded the store. Anastasia playfully caught her brassiere, clasping the fabric over her tits with both hands as she also glanced over towards Joe's corner.

Joe was a disgusting man. Let's just get that out of the way. He looked like a thug. He smelled like stale beer and old cigarette smoke and was always past-due for a good hot shower. Pushing 55 and old enough to be her father, he looked like he had been athletic, maybe a football player, when he was younger, though she doubted if he ever exercised anymore except to smack around his girlfriends. He was mean and cruel. When he wasn't bullying the girls who danced at the club he was bullying the other employees. When he wasn't bullying his employees, he was working other action on the side. Joe was the kind of cruel loser that Cyndi would want to mock, saying he was compensating for a tiny dick, but try as she might to pretend otherwise, she knew this not to be that case. Much as she was determined never to glance in that direction, it was difficult not notice his package. Plus, there were the knowing looks from his "girlfriends" that betrayed a hint of fear at his size. Or maybe he was just a sadist in the bedroom. Rumor was that he had a metal piercing in his dick, a little cross bar through the frenulum of his penis. Cyndi had also heard rumors that he was involved in some kind of minor organized crime, but she really did not care and did not want to know.

Cyndi finished delivering some Long Island Iced Teas to table 14 and glanced back towards Joe's corner and saw ... her younger brother Andrew rushing past with his hand held at an odd angle and tears in his eyes. Luckily Andrew did not notice Cyndi, as he had no idea she was working there. Her heart felt suddenly heavy and tight. Andrew was her only sibling. What the hell had happened to him and what did it have to do with Joe? She loved Andrew and would do anything to protect him, though he often made that quite difficult as he was prone to really terrible decisions - even for a 18-year-old boy. She was frozen with fear and anxiety.

Slowly she turned. Not knowing what else to do, she shuffled heavily towards Joe's corner. As she approached, she heard his chuckling. "What the fuck do you need from my life, little girl?" he grunted.

"uh ... uhh ... Uh, Joe ... Mr. Havelock ..." she stammered, her eyes starting to glisten with tears.

"Yeah, yeah, haven't got all night girly. What is it?"

Cyndi took a deep breath. "Uhm, that young man ... Andrew ... that was my baby brother."

Laughter. Why were they laughing? It felt like being kicked in the belly.

"That young man doesn't know shit about betting on football." More laughter.

"Andy owes you money?" she implored.

Joe nodded, "He owes me $4,000 by tomorrow if he doesn't want any more fingers broken. Hope he's not planning on playing piano any time soon." Vicious rolls of laughter from figures in the shadowed booths around Joe.

Cyndi felt as though the floor was moving under her. Her sweet baby brother was in pain and was going to have a lot more if he didn't come up with $4,000 immediately.

"Mr. ... Havelock ... isn't there anything I can do? That's my baby brother," she begged. Her question was met with a hollow silence that lay there for a painful pause. Now the tears were rolling freely, though she wiped them away. Finally, he replied "You could give me $4,000 I suppose. Do you happen to have $4,000 in those little orange striped panties?"

"No, but I'll give you what I have, and I will work as hard as I can to make the rest" she pleaded, knowing how pathetic she sounded.

"Princess, you ain't making four grand hustling trays of drinks to these losers. You shimmy out of that skirt and give a few lap dances and you just might pull in $2000 in a night ... on a very good night and if you work very, very hard. Even so, that idiot brother of yours will get another finger broken each day he is short. And if he tries to hide from me it'll only be worse. I don't play games with deadbeats. Honestly, you're better off not trying to help this loser. Let him figure out himself what a bad gambler he is."

Fear shot through her like an electric current. She was almost unable to speak, she was so terrified for her younger brother and repulsed by the animal that her boss had turned out to be.

"I ... I'll dance" she stammered, though she sounded utterly unconvincing.

"You'll dance? You ever dance before? Ever take your top off and show your tits to a bunch of lonely, middle-aged guys for tips? Ever give some guy a lap dance for $20 a song? You have any idea how to make money as a dancer? I won't stop you from trying, but there is a learning curve." He was talking a little more slowly and with a deliberate intensity as his eyes studied her like prey before a hungry wolf.

"I'll make it easy on you. You dance for me right here, right now and I will give you a nice tip. A very big tip." A smattering of laughter from the men in the booth around him followed his last few words.

Oh god, was this really happening? If only Cyndi could stop the tears, she wouldn't feel so humiliated and stupid ... She was so nervous she felt that she might lose control of her bladder. That wouldn't earn any tips unless he was into some bizarre shit.

No, Cyndi had never stripped. Never pretended she was a stripper at home, alone in front of a mirror. Never danced seductively for a boyfriend. Even so, she was making up her mind, determined to do whatever she needed to help Andrew. As the next song began, a slow thumping bass line, she closed her eyes and tried to let go a little. Cyndi tried to remember what she had watched all the other girls do on the stage every night. She began to sway her hips, a little clumsily at first, and slowly began to run her fingers up her thighs, and up her belly as suggestively as she could. Then she opened her eyes and looked into the pitiless eyes of the bully in front of her, determined to take his money, willing him to want her.

"Yeah baby! Work it you little slut!' one of Joe's associates jeered. Joe laughed and threw a crumpled-up single at her feet.

Ugh! A fucking single. Humiliation stung as Cyndi continued to try to find the groove and turned to flash her bottom at him with a swish of her skirt. She rocked and swayed, and played with her crop-top, flashing more and more of her naked belly and her lace cupped boobs, trying to remember the moves she's seen on the stage every night. With an awkwardly forced flourish she whipped the crop top off and spun around. Next, she began to slowly peel out of her skirt, hoping vainly this would be enough. Another crumpled single landed at her feet.

Asshole. Fucking asshole. More laughter from the nearby booths. OK. So be it. Cyndi continued to dance and tease as best she could, though she was a true novice. Finally, she unsnapped her bra as Anastasia had done, while clasping her bra tightly to her chest with her other hand. She leaned close to Joe, leaning over and slowly letting her breasts spill out of the cups, finally letting the bra fall across his knee.

As Cyndi swayed topless in front of him, Joe's cold, hard eyes slowly took in every inch of Cyndi's naked flesh. Joe's face did not betray the pleasure he felt as his eyes devoured her. Cyndi had porcelain skin and pouty, sweetly natural breasts that somehow seemed to be looking up in greeting. She had deliciously large, puffy areolas accented by nipples that pointed impossibly skyward. When Cyndi ran her fingers over her breasts in imitation of the other dancers, the men watching her fought the urge to start touching their own cocks.

Cyndi had no idea just how stunning she looked standing there before Joe, half-naked. Even so she felt a flush of excitement mixed with terrifying vulnerability as she sensed the power she held over those staring hungrily at her.

More bills started falling on the floor near her feet. Cyndi stepped back slightly and nervously tried to make herself look into Joe's eyes in a flirtatious way as she swayed and danced topless in front of him. She slowly ran her fingers up her belly until her hands were cupping her breasts and ran her tongue over her lips for Joe's excitement. Gotta do this right, y'know? She continued to fondle her right breast, toying with her excited nipples, as her left hand reached between her legs suggestively. After giving Joe time to ogle her breasts Cyndi turned, letting him get a good at her ass. Now she was wearing nothing but her shoes and her striped thong.

"Ahem ... his is an all-nude club, kitten" Joe hoarsely intoned.

Cyndi was mortified, remembering the Brazilian wax. She felt stupid for having been talked into it, uncomfortable at the thought of how much her bare sex might excite Joe and his hangers-on. She hoped they did not laugh at her. She hoped she did not look ridiculous. God, she hated him, but was determined to give him what he wanted. Cyndi continued to sway her hips and bottom invitingly in front of Joe and then bent over, placing her palms on her knees, arching her back with her round bottom turned towards the man.

Cyndi paused nervously and then slowly hooked her thumbs in the strings of her thong, and with trepidation began to slide the strings down over her hips, as the center piece of the thong clung embarrassingly to her pussy. When it finally sprung free, she felt cool air brushing lightly against her bare skin. She felt a surging mixture of humiliation and exhilaration. Her bare pussy was totally vulnerable, and growing excited as well. Confusion taunted Cyndi as she was very aroused.

Never mind. Cyndi had to stay focused so as not fall apart. She continued to rock her hips, letting Joe get a nice view of her pussy, even running her fingers lightly over herself to hopefully please him. She was embarrassed to notice how wet she was becoming from the sexual pantomime, repulsed though she might be by the cruel bastard watching her. Joe was getting quite a show. Her physical arousal was visible. The lips of her sex were glistening and swelling slightly.

Suddenly she felt a cold slap as the contents of Joe's nearly full beer sloshed over her backside. Nearly a pint of cold, foamy beer had collided with her exposed pussy. Startled she gaped over her shoulder as her face reddened. She felt wet, cold, ... and embarrassed. But strangely excited as well.

"Linda, clean her up, would you? Lick up that beer!" Joe snarled. Linda was a cute, pint sized blond from Alabama who was a few years older than Cyndi, and who was known for the "lesbian" shows. "It'd be my pleasure, sugar," Linda said as she sauntered over to Cyndi, frozen in her extraordinarily vulnerable position. Linda pressed her palms on Cyndi's upturned buttocks, gently spreading Cyndi open with her fingers, before she obediently and thoroughly licked the beer from Cyndi's ass and pussy with her soft, warm tongue. She let her tongue explore just a little between the lips of Cyndi's sex, and as her tongue slipped inside for a lingering moment, Cyndi felt the vibration of Linda moaning softly.

Cyndi's eyes were wide with shock as she remained bent over with her ass in the air and another woman's tongue inside her pussy. Then as Linda finished, Cyndi realized with further embarrassment that she was disappointed that Cyndi had stopped tonguing her so soon. Cyndi slowly stood up straight again and turned with fresh tears of humiliation in her flashing eyes.

"Come here" Joe said in a low but authoritarian tone. You've earned this. She stood completely naked in front of him as he pressed three one hundred-dollar bills in the palm of her hand. She began to cover her breasts with her other hand, but he snatched her hand away, gripping her wrist almost painfully. She winced as he said, "I'll pay you $500 right now for a lap dance, but you better make it worth my while."

Chapter 2

Cyndi's throat was dry, and she was shot through with anxiety and desperation. Her legs felt like they might collapse beneath her. Making $4,000 hustling dances from the regular customers was going to be embarrassing, difficult work. Why not take another stack of hundreds from this asshole? She noticed that Joe's three friends were now getting excited by the scene. I guess it wasn't every day you had some 19-year-old bar-maid "pop her cherry" at stripping for your entertainment. The losers sitting there with Joe were all looking at her with a hungry, slack-jawed expression; like dogs waiting for a bone.

Cyndi noticed that two of Joe's stooges seemed to have girlfriends leaning on them as well. One of the girls was a very pretty brunette with her hair trimmed very short, almost shaved. She wore several earrings in one ear lobe. Cyndi thought she remembered the girl's name was Rachel. Rachel seemed intimidating because she was about 5′7″ and very fit. At any rate, the small audience around the booth was looking a little turned on. At least one of the men was visibly aroused.

Cyndi took a couple of steps back and bent over to reach for her thong wadded up on the floor, since lap dances were never "all-nude." She was again helplessly battling her own thoughts, when Joe's harsh voice cut through "oh you won't need your panties darlin'. This is a special dance for me personally."

Cyndi froze, bent at the waist, hand outstretched.

Shit. This motherfucker.

Slowly, she straightened again and faced Joe's feral eyes and leering mouth. Cyndi walked utterly naked before him, feeling exposed, embarrassed, though strangely excited. Somehow, she felt that she had a kind of power over Joe. As a Li'l Wayne song started to play she nervously forced herself to imitate what she had seen so many other dancers do. She placed her hands on the arm rests of his chair, tried to look lovingly into his filthy gaze, swayed gently to the beat, letting her breasts sweep so close she could feel his foul breath on her skin. She flinched as she felt Joe's tongue teasing her nipple. Her eyes flew side to side. No bouncer would rescue her. Without warning she felt the rough palm of his hand slap her bottom with stinging sharpness.

"Just keep dancing, you stupid cunt" Joe grunted so low the others would not hear. "Keep dancing before I slap that pretty face of yours."

Joe's shockingly cruel threats, language, and bold lack of restraint or inhibition in taking liberties with Cyndi ratcheted up her fear as well as a peculiar mix humiliation and arousal. She was turned on as well as afraid.

Cyndi knew the next part of the lap dance involved letting her breasts and bottom rub against Joe's crotch. The idea was to get the customer excited, so they keep handing you twenties for as long as you can keep it going. The thought of her bare skin against this creep was both awful and stimulating; but turning back now seemed less and less of a possibility.

Once again, Cyndi steeled her nerve and went forward, the only way possible. She dropped to her knees and pantomimed a girl about to give a blowjob, the way she had watched the others teasing their customers. With grim determination she brushed one breast and then the other against the straining denim of his crotch. Hating herself and hating him she let her breasts fall to either side of his bulge, and rhythmically massaged her chest into him in a way that would have made very short work of her boyfriend, Tommy. She could have sworn there was heat emanating from the growing hardness in Joe's jeans. Much to her chagrin, she found herself acutely aware of both the hardness and girth she felt pressing into her bosom.