My Queen

The message was cryptic, yet blunt: Home. 6:30 pm. Red room.

I certainly understood what it meant but the mystery was to wonder what Mistress had in store for me...I glanced at my watch….in seven hours. I felt a stirring between my legs. The red room meant a session of some sort. But what? I thought back over the week and couldn’t think of any indiscretions I needed to atone for. No tasks or chores I’d left undone. Life had been rather mundane recently. No sessions, just work and routine. I performed my rituals faithfully, attended to Mistress’ needs and demands in both a dutiful and expedient manner.

With a sigh, I set my mind to the task at hand, and tried to immerse myself in work. However, devising market strategies was less intriguing than trying to anticipate what Mistress might be planning. Quitting time could not come soon enough.

I left the office feeling light headed and somewhat giddy. While I lived to serve Mistress, for indeed, I had devoted my life to being her humble servant and plaything, having sessions with her were both exhilarating and grounding. They completed the package.

The time it took to navigate traffic until I finally pulled my car into the garage was filled with mild anxiety coupled with excitement. At a flashing red stop light, as I brought the car to a standstill, I let my right hand briefly rest between my thighs. My cock was straining against it’s stainless steel cage. 

Would Mistress let it out? Would she let me cum? I closed my eyes for a brief moment as I imagined the feel of her silky palms caressing the shaft.

I opened my eyes at the sound of an impatient car horn. With a low moan I pressed on the accelerator and exceeded the speed limit to get home sooner.

Once inside the neat and organized garage, I hurriedly removed my clothes then donned the loose muslin tunic I was required to wear. It barely covered my ass. It gave me a false sense of modesty as in reality it made me feel just as vulnerable as if I were completely nude.

My footsteps were silent as I padded though the tiled kitchen, though the family room and along the hall until I reached the red room door.

I knocked.

Silence.

“Enter."

My hand trembled slightly as I turned the nob. I stepped over the threshold and entered a place where dreams and fantasy combined with anticipation and elation.

As my eyes grew more accustomed to the dimmer ambient light, I could see Mistress sitting on her throne, clad in a long flowing gown. The look was majestic, yet her expression gave nothing a way. I glanced around the room and feel slightly deflated as nothing seemed out of place as if in preparation for use. There was still no clue as to why Mistress required my presence in the red room.

I hurried over to her and dropped to my knees and placed my hands behind my back in obedient deference. I glanced up and whispered, “I am here on your orders, Mistress, how may I serve you?” I lowered my gaze and waited for her reply.

As I waited, I looked at her bare feet and thought I ought to offer to give her a new pedicure soon.

“Well, little bee,” she began, and I felt a strong jolt of relief flow through me, for Mistress had a variety of ways of subtly letting me know a little of her plans. She would use certain words or phrases, or wear certain perfume that would cue me as to what direction our sessions would likely take. When she called me “little bee,” I knew she was in a pleasant state of mind and the session would more enjoyable than painful.

“Present yourself to me,” she ordered.

“Yes, Mistress,” I replied and immediately sprang to my feet and planted myself in front of her with my feet at shoulder’s width and my hand hands clasped behind my back. I kept my head bowed and could feel the weight of my cock cage more defined as my cock involuntarily began to strain against it.

I stifled a moan when I felt her cup my testicles in the palm of her hand. It wouldn’t do to show her how much I longed for her touch. All resolve left me when the sensation of her fingernails scraping them and the underside sent shivers down my spine. I gasped, “Oh, Mistress!”
My heart swelled when I saw the corners of her lips lift into a slight smile.

“Begin.” She commanded

I looked directly into her blue eyes. “I am your humble servant, Mistress,” I began, “I exist only to assist as you desire, to please you as you wish...” as I recited, I began to get the familiar, warm, fuzzy feeling flowing through me. It made me feel at peace with myself and my place in her world. “I belong to you, and only you, Mistress. You own me. My body. My mind. My heart. My soul. I am yours, for you do use as you see fit.” I breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. I felt engulfed in a cocoon of calmness, knowing Mistress took her responsibility to me as devoutly as I gave her complete control of me.

“Well done, little bee,” she cooed. I shivered with pleasure. Any little bit of praise from her had that effect on me.

I watched as she removed the silver chain from around her neck. It held a small brass key. It was key to all that bound me to her, both tangible and intangible. That small brass key open both the lock on my cock cage and the ceremonial collar I wore to all our lifestyle gatherings.

I tried to contain my excitement as Mistress fitted the key into the lock. My skin broke out in goosebumps she fondled my testicles, squeezing them, then tugging. Her fingers worked their magic as my cock tried to respond but met the resistance of steel bars. I whimpered. I ached for her touch. 

When I heard the click as the key disengage the locking mechanism, I gasped. So close to the bliss only she could provide.

Then she was standing beside me. Her fingers followed the lines of my goatee, across my upper lip, along the edges of my mouth. I closed my eyes as her thumb caressed my lower lip. Her voice, a soft and low whisper told me, “You are my little bee. I own you.”

“Yes, Mistress. Make me yours.” I gasped.

She released the lock and took off my cage. A chuckle escaped her as my cock found a life of it’s own and instantly began to grow and get hard. My breath caught on an inhale as her fingers curled around my growing shaft and squeezed it tight. Her touch had the desired effect. My cock swelled and hardened.

“Oh Mistress!” I breathed and tried to steel myself. Mistress could torment me for God only knew how long or she could make me cum in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t know which until it happened. Worse, she could deny me the pleasure as she controlled it. Owned it all.

Using the hand that still gripped my hard cock, Mistress began to squeeze and stroke the shaft in a firm, smooth, repetitive fashion. The sound of friction resonated in the room. I rocked slowly back and forth in time with her strokes. I was sinking fast. My mind soaking up the sensations flooding my body. I could hear Mistress breathing softly.

“Mine.” She murmured. “My toy.”

“Yes, Mistress. Yours. Only yours.” I gasped as sensations continued to build and flood my mind and my groin. The ache was real. My skin felt both hot and cold. My mouth went dry. My knees felt weak.

My hard cock throbbed. The tip had started to glisten as precum had begun to flow. My balls felt as heavy and hard as my cock. No...I amended. As hard as Mistress’ cock. It belonged to her. While she owned it, I was the lucky recipient of any pleasure that was afforded it. I groaned loudly when Mistress caressed the underside of the head. Her fingers found the spot that cause my balls to pull up and my hips to want to thrust. My heart was beating harder and my breath coming faster. My entire body began to tense as I felt the building urge.

“Ohhhhhhh Mistress,” I gasped, “Please. Please let me cum.”

Her chuckle made me groan.

“Not quite yet, my little bee.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I gasped and forced my mind to wrestle control of my urges. I began to pant in an attempt to harness my dwindling will power. My cock was throbbing. My balls were aching.

When Mistress began to press her palm against the wet tip I was sure I was going to lose it and cum in her hand. I gritted my teeth and tried counting backwards from one hundred. My thighs burned as I struggled to keep from thrusting against her hand. I bit my lower lip.

I was close to losing the battle. I knew the consequences would be grim if I did. My mind battled against my body. I wanted to please Mistress, not disappoint her.

“Mistress!” I cried out. “I beg of you! Please! Let me cum!”

“Hang in there, my precious little bee,” she murmured. “Just a bit longer.”

“Ohhhhh Mistress!” I gasped “I’m trying!”

She squeezed my cock hard. Released. Squeezed again.

I let out a loud wail of frustration.

In a barely inaudible voice, she said, “On three.”

Through clinched teeth, I groaned, “Yes, Mistress, please!”

“One.””

She squeezed tight. I groaned.

“Two.”

I hissed through my teeth.

“Three. Cum for me!”

“Yessssssss!” I exploded. All that pent up tension flowed out of my cock in a thick stream of hot cum. Mistress had a crystal bowl to catch it in.

“Good little bee,” she cooed as my cock continued to pump out cum. She milked my cock as I grunted uncontrollably.

Spent, I looked at her and gasped, “Thank you, Mistress. Thank you.”

She gave me one of her crooked little half smiles. “You aren’t finished yet,” she reminded me and handed me the bowl.

“No, Mistress, I’m not.” I took the bowl of my cum from her. “Your cum must not be wasted,” I said and lifted it to my lips and drank the contents.

“That’s my good little bee,” she said as she patted my cheek and smiled. “Now, clean up and lock my cock back in its cage. I want dinner in an hour.” She turned and headed toward the door.

“Yes, My Queen,” I called after her, a huge smile on my face and a warmth of emotion flooding through me.

Denial

My little slut finds himself naked and straddling a hard, wooden chair, facing backwards. He is tied with rough, abrasive ropes around his arms, upper torso, and the slats on the back of the chair. His feet are secured to the front legs of the sturdy chair.

His cock and balls are dangling off the edge of the chair and his chest is pressed so tightly his nipples protrude through two upper slats. He is gagged, but can see and hear.

I enjoy looking at my handiwork. I know my pet is slightly uncomfortable by the rough bonds, but I also know the harsh, unfamiliar sensations will also enhance his experience.

I move to stand behind him. My hands moving slowly, lightly over his shoulders...and I can feel his skin react to my slight touch. I lean forward and whisper...are you happy to be back, slut? I smile as he indicates an affirmative with the rapid bob of his head. "MMMmmmm," I whisper. My fingers knead his shoulders for a minute or two and he jumps as my nails scrape across them and down his rope bonds down to his ass. I knead his bum cheeks with the tips of my nails and chuckle as he squirms while I play with his plump cheeks.

"Did you miss m?" I ask as I rake my nails along his outer thigh as I move around to face him. A chair had already been placed in front of him.

"Mmhmmhg" he responds again as he nods.

I sit on the chair and look into his eyes. The look I see is one of longing. My slut is begging me with his eyes to use him. He knows it will be solely for my pleasure.

His nipples are hard little nubs protruding through the chair's slats. I rub my tongue along my upper teeth as I contemplate my next move. I can use clamps on them. I can squeeze and twist them between my thumb and forefinger. I can flick at them with my tongue.

His eyes never leave my face. He pants through his nose...he's getting aroused. His cock is doing its own little dance between the stats...filling the narrow space as his excitement grows.

I reach into my pocket and put out a pair of nipple clamps with chains attached to both a weighted ball stretcher and a longer one with a clamp on the end.

My slut's eyes fill with a look of trepidation as he watches me apply  the ball stretcher around his testicles. He moans despite himself as I scrape them with my nails. I know what he likes. I cradle his balls and the stretcher in one hand as I attach the longer free chain to a clip on my heavy chain necklace.

Lastly, I attach the nipple clamps to his pert little nipples. He yelps through his gag as the first one pinches around the nipple. I smile at him reassuringly as I attach the second.

When I lean back in my chair his eyes widen as he realizes the chain is intended to pull on his nipples. I lean back farther and he moans. I rock back and forth...the chain plays pushme/pullyou with the nipple clamps. All the while I am lightly stroking the top of his cock.

My slut closes his eyes as his mind begins to absorb the different sensations. He moans softly through his gag. I begin to stroke his cock with more pressure...it is hard in my palm. My slut tries to thrust, but his bounds prohibit movement. He grunts. I smile. He's frustrated. It's been a long time since we played.

I wrap my fingers around his cock and squeeze it...and let his balls with the weighted ball stretcher roll off my palm. He jerks as his  balls fall and then swing free pulling on his nipple clips and stretching the balls. He moans and pants and slowly settles into groan and moan routine as I stroke and tease his shaft into a hot, throbbing rod. It is dripping in precum and my slut is rolling his head back and forth as I continue to rock back and forth, the chain tugs at his nipples, as I stroke and squeeze the hard shaft between my soft palms.

"Don't you dare cum," I tell him. He tries to respond...his mind is gone...he can only feel..he tries to thrust..he moans loudly....sweet music to My ears.

I feel the tension. He's about to cum...he wants to so badly. Every fiber in his body is stretch taut.  I immediately let go of his cock.

An animalistic wail pushes past his gag. his frustration is palpable, his cock is throbbing...still fully loaded. I remove the nipple clamps, the chain from from My necklace, and lastly the heavy ball stretcher. I massage his testicles and my slut whimpers, His eyes are as moist as the head of his cock.

I untie his feet, and then the ropes around his torso. Lastly, I remove his gag and tell him he is my good boy and that I am proud of him,

I help him to his feet, and lead him to the sofa were we sit and I cover him with a blanket. We cuddle and I whisper words of comfort and praise in his ear. Gently rubbing his back and caressing his face...Telling him he belongs to Me.

The Bondage Chair

Work had been especially trying all week and the stress was getting to me. I needed to way to unwind and had been unable to find a suitable way. Then it came. A text that instructed me to go to her. She had something to show him, it said.

I could feel my heart skipped a beat, then speed up as all sorts of possibilities began to form in my mind. She had talked of getting some new toys. Was that it? My cock stirred as I let my mind take to her play room. The first time I was had been amazing. I knew I had to g as there were so many ways for her to help me to unwind there. The bench. The St. Andrew's Cross. Her wall of chains. Floggers and whips and things I had never dreamed existed. The exam table. I never knew what would be in store for me there as her creativity seemed boundless and the more I thought about her and the play room, my cock got harder I knew I would go to her and do anything she wanted

.

When I arrived, she greeted me at the door barefoot and wearing a silky black negligee and a satin scarf around her throat. With a wicked smile, she leaned over to kiss my cheek and whisper, “Take your clothes of here. Now.” 

Here? By the front door? My heart started pounding again. This was new. Usually she had me strip in the playroom while she watched from her throne. I swallowed hard. “Yes, Ma'am,” I choked out. I slid out of my suit jacket and took it from me and placed it on a hanger then hung it on a hook by the door. I kicked off my shoes and glanced around, wondering if she'd had guests and this was a way to humiliate me in front of them. I unbuttoned my shirt and as soon as my chest was exposed, she raked her nails across it and my cock instantly jumped. I was so ready for this. For anything she had planned. My shirt fell to the floor with my pants and boxers quickly following them. My cock was hard and starting to ache already and I'd barely walked through the door. As soon as I managed to get my socks off, she grabbed my cock and with a firm grip that made me groan, she lead me through the to the playroom, leading me like a dog on a leash. 

Outside the play room she stopped and let go. I moaned softly as she did as I enjoyed the feel of her firm grip. It felt like I'd lost something important. The she took the scarf from around her neck and placed it over my eyes and tying it behind my head. It was still warm from her skin and I could faintly smell her perfume...Opium and I knew that meant she definitely intended to do wicked things to me. I smiled and took in a deep breath as I tried to ready my senses for the assault on them that was sure to follow. 

“I have something new I want to try out on you,” she said in her soft low voice and took me once again by my cock.

“Yes, Ma'am,” I said and shuffled along behind her. I tried to get my bearings as we entered. To the left of us was where her cross and bench were. The wall straight head had a rock facade and chains hanging at various levels from eye bolts in the wall. I knew there was a suspension bar hanging from the ceiling attached to a pulley system. The right side of the room hosted a medical station which I had yet to experience. I had no clue what kind of games she played there.

We veered right and I felt a lump form in my throat. When she stopped, I was sure it was short of the medical station. She stopped abruptly and I nearly bumped into her. Her hand, still around my throbbing cock squeezed it tight and I moaned. I was aching now. Anxious and aching.

When she let go, I want to cry out, “NO!” but didn't dare

.

“Turn around and back up slowly,” she told me.

Complying, I turned around and backed up slowly until I felt something hard behind me.

“Sit.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” I said and slowly sat down, my hands at my sides to feel for the edges and found myself seated on a rather narrow padded seat and leaned back. I could feel something brushing against my outer thighs but couldn't fathom what it might be.

I could sense Mistress in front of me and then her hands were rubbing the tops of my thigh. She patted the left one and said, “Lift it,” I did and she guided it upward and outward until she laid it on a padded shelf and then repeated for the right one. Then she lifted my right arm and raised to shoulder level and I could feel something padded against it before she strapped first my wrist and then my bicep firmly against this invisible arm-like thing. She did the same to my other arm. I could feel the adrenaline beginning for flow as she tethered me to this thing.

Mistress raked her nails over my chest repeatedly, in such a way that the sensations seemed to flow directly to my cock which by the feel of it must have doubled in size since I arrived. I could feel it twitching with each and every scrape of her nails. I would have welts later, of that I was sure. The she placed a strap across my chest so there was no way I could lean forward.

A loud gasp escaped me as I felt her nails raking the insides of my thighs. Part of me wanted to snap them closed because she was starting to stir a deep and mostly hidden need in me. A need to be used and taken and controlled. A need I kept hidden in my everyday life. Her nails raked down legs and then I felt strapes being applied to on ankle and then the other.

“You belong to me,” she whispered and her nails turned to fingertips. Feather light strokes along my inner thighs sending shivers through me and her words rang loudly in my mind.

“Yes, Ma'am. I am yours,” I gasp as her fingertips continue their caressing of that sensitive skin.

Then I felt straps being secured over my thighs. Oh my God, I thought. What IS this contraption she's got me tethered to?

I felt her lips on mine and my mouth opened eagerly to allow her access. She swooped in and her tongue ravaged my mouth while I was helpless to stop her. Which of course, I didn't. I wanted her to take me any way she wanted. I wanted to feel her hands roaming over my heated skin. I wanted to know her intimate touch. I wanted her claim her property.

She whipped the blind fold off and I blinked even though the room was dimly lit with candles and wall sconces. I glanced down and realized I was tethered to a bondage chair, similar to the St Andrews cross but with a crucifix for the arms and thigh rests to keep my legs parted and my cock and balls just hanging off the edge of the seat. I couldn't remember a time where I felt more exposed and more vulnerable. Not even on her bench. I looked up at Mistress and through her smile was reassuring, I still felt apprehensive. I tried to remind myself that this was what I wanted. What I dreamed about. Longed for.

When Mistress stepped between my legs I couldn't contain the excitement rippling through me that easily replaced any fear or apprehension. She leaned against me as she reached for something on the shelf behind us. Her breasts crushed my face and I inhaled the scent of her. When she backed up, I closed my eyes in disappointed but that quickly turned to shock as she rubbed some cold and wet on on my nipples making them stand at attention. I glanced downed to see her swirling ice cubes over them. Then to my utter surprised she attached a little suction cup to each one. I winced as she squeezed the yellow tubes and they pulled my nipples into them. While it wasn't exactly painful, it was a bit uncomfortable. She then ran the ice cubes over my heated chest, abdomen and I shivered as the ice water ran in small rivulets down to my cock and dripped off either side.

Mistress stepped away and out of my line of vision. I could only wonder what she might do next. I still felt exposed and vulnerable and totally out of control. Part of me wanted to beg her to stop now. To tell her I didn't think I had it in me to let her continue. But, I knew I wouldn't. That I couldn't. I wanted this more than the air I breathed. I wanted her to do as she wished with me. I wanted to experience every nuance of her abilities and the deviousness of her mind.

That nearly changed when she returned carrying a flogger with dozens of medium length tails in some kind of black leather. She trailed the fall along my chest and shoulders and I was surprised at how soft the leather felt. It felt light, almost like a feather duster. Yet, when she stepped back and swung it toward my cock I winced but then gasped as it wasn't a harsh feeling at all but rather a soft thud that actually caused my cock to throb for want of more. She swung it up and down numerous times against my cock and balls and I moaned as the soft falls seemed to envelope me in a momentary cocoon. My cock was aching. I wanted to feel her touch now. 

When she grasped My cock in one hand I let out a relieved groan. It felt so good to have her touching me. With a quick flick of her wrist, she flicked the flogger upwards and jiggled the suction cups attached to my nipples. I yelped as the pain I hadn't expected coursed through me and settled as a odd sensation in mycock. 

Mistress pulled up a stool and sat between my legs, then placed the flogger across one thigh. She began to massage my cock with her fingertips, dancing them up and down the length teasing me, making me want squirm and wriggle underneath her touch, but this chair contraption held me rigid. Then she poured oil into her palm and rubbed her hands together before finally beginning to stroke me. I groaned in relief and pleasure. Her sure hands moved quickly hand over hand and it felt as if she were pulling my cock off my body but at the same time I loved the feeling. She made my cock rock hard. It throbbed as she continued to stoke and tug, stoke and tug. I was wanting to cum desperately at this point but it was as if she knew it and would slow down.

She looked into my eyes and it was as if she knew my deepest desires. To my surprise, she rose and lifted one of her legs and straddled one of mine and then the other. Standing over me like that made me realize how completely I was in her power now. Then as she lowered herself, guiding my cock inside her I think I let out a primitive wail. It felt so good being surrounded by her soft, moist flesh. She wiggled a bit as she settled her self on me. I ached to hold her but everything we did was on her terms, not mine. I was helpless. I could do nothing to help. 

Mistress bounced a little and I groaned. She started to ride me, slowly at first, and then faster. I grunted and tried to thrust but movement was impossible. As she built up momentum all I could do was lean back and let her. My cock was sliding in and out of her as she rode me. Groaning as I felt the need to cum get stronger and stronger and then she's slow to an near halt, merely rocking back and forth with her hands on my shoulders. 

I stared into her eyes, unable to contain myself and pleaded, “Please....please....let me cum, Ma'am.”

She smiled at me, it was a wicked, devious little smile, one that should have prepared me that something else was coming, but my mind was on my aching, throbbing cock and the desperate urge to cum that was becoming overwhelming to me.

Mistress started to ride me hard and fast. I wasn't going to be able to keep from cumming much longer. “Pppppplease,” I gasped.

Just when I thought I couldn't help myself she whispered in my ear, “Cum for me,” and yanked the suction cups off my nipples.

I screamed as I came, buried inside her. I could feel Mistress' orgasm as she clenched around my shaft. The pain shooting down from my nipples intensified my orgasm and it felt like it would never end. Mistress continued to ride me until eventually I collapsed against the chair, grateful for the support it offered.

Mistress leaned forward and flicked her tongue against my now overly sensitive nipples and elicited more moans and gasps from me. I felt completely drained. I looked up at her as she withdrew and stood before me. She caressed my face and slowly undid each of my bonds. I felt helpless. Weak and exhausted and yet I had done nothing. Mistress had done it all. I gave her a weak smile and whispered, “Thank you, Ma'am.”

“My pleasure, sweet boy,” she crooned and led the way to her bedroom where I laid down naked and cradled by my Mistress, and fell asleep with her caressing me.

The Cooch Girl

I take a drag of my cigarette, then slowly exhale. The smoke hangs heavy in the still, dry air. After a quick scan of the headlines across the newspaper, I look out over the brown, shriveled corn fields surrounding the lot and wonder if this damn drought and economic depression will ever end so I can go back to a normal life. I wonder if I’d even know what normal is again.

 

“Cleo!” Bambi sticks her head out the back flap of the tent. “Get a move-on, girlie! Jimmy’s gettin’ antsy and wants us girls out on the bally.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” I tell her. “I’m coming.” After taking one last drag, I toss what’s left of my cigarette in the dirt and grind it out. I leave the paper on a table, then turn and slip into the tent. I pause long enough in the dressing area to check my make-up and costume.

 

I can hear Jimmy barking directions out front and I grimace. He’s always like this the first show after a set-up in a new town. It’s not like we don’t know the routine. I climb the steps to the inside stage and step through the curtains to the outside bally platform. It’s hot even with the sun beginning to sink beneath the horizon. Dust clings to the clear light bulbs strung high across the front of the platform.

 

“Ah, there you are, Cleo, darling,” he drawls and I’m not sure if he’s being sarcastic or not. He struts over to me and walks around me and arranges my skimpy, sequined belly dancing bra top over my ample breasts and chides, “Now, now, Cleo, you know better than showing off your gorgeous titties before the show.”

 

“Whatever, Jimmy,” I say and give a couple of hip tilts making the fringe on my skirt separate and expose my bare leg. “I thought you wanted to clean the midway.” I wink at Bambi over his shoulder and she giggles.

 

He shakes his head and then barks, “Alright ladies, to your places!”

 

There are six of us girls. We spread out on the platform. Bambi, in her short 1920's backless, beaded flapper dress and I in my skimpy Turkish belly dancer’s garb are in the middle, with Jimmy in his tuxedo between us at the microphone.

 

His voice, deep and resonating, booms over the midway and draws gawking rubes who start to gather in front of the bally. “Citizens of Goodwill, let me draw your attention to an array of lovely ladies whose mission it is today is to delight and amaze you with their many charms.” Jimmy turns and waves an arm in a gesture that encompasses us all and we dutifully smile and wiggle our bodies at the crowd.

 

I decide to break routine and start blowing kisses to the audience. I catch Jimmy’s eye and wink at him. He frowns at me but continues his spiel.

 

“Our sweet, little Bambi here will endear herself to you with her version of the Charleston, just wait until you see her swing!” Jimmy does a theatrical roll of his arm to introduce her. Bambi does an adorable little curtsey.

 

Then he walks up and down the line introducing all the girls and finally comes to me and says, 

“When our lovely Cleo performs inside our tent for you, you will be amazed and confounded at her ability to wiggle and shake!”

 

He turns to face the large crowd in front of the bally and booms in his mesmerizing deep voice, “That’s it girls. It’s show time! Take it back inside. Folks, buy your tickets here and over there, and follow the ladies to the tent. Go now!”

 

From the other side of the curtain, we can hear a scuffling of feet as the crowd shuffles toward the ticket sellers and we scramble to the vestibule that keeps us out of sight until it’s time for each of our acts. I’m last on the line up since Jimmy thinks I have the most enticing act and can generate the most interest in getting the crowd to pay for the blow-off acts.

 

Louise is first. Her stage name is Lotus Flower and I watch her through a crack in the curtains. She’s dressed as a Geisha girl and is swaying to an oriental tune. She slowly opens her kimono and the men start hooting and hollering. With a teasing look, she closes it and gets shouts of “NO!” and “Take it off, baby!” After a series of false starts, Louise sheds the kimono and is down to just a g-string and heels. While she does a shimmy and her breasts are bouncing all over the place, Jimmy pipes in with an insinuation there could be more to see in the after show blow-off.

 

In the middle of the third act, Jimmy breaks in to remind the crowd that touching the dancers is off limits and the next time someone tries, the show is over and there would be no refunds.

 

Bambi comes up beside me and peeks through the curtain.

 

“The rubes are a rowdy bunch tonight,” she says and I can hear the concern in her voice.

 

“Yeah,” I concur, “but you can bet Jimmy and the boys are on top of it. You know how protective he is of us.

Bambi wraps her arms around my waist and rests her chin on my shoulder. She whispers, “Maybe so, but I don’t think I want to turn any tricks with this crowd. I’m not even sure I want to do the blow-off.”

 

I secretly agree with her, but money is money and I want to make as much as I can while I can.

 

“That’s up to you, honey,” I tell her, “but you better square it with Jimmy before he makes appointments for you.”

 

I cast my gaze over the crowd. Dozens of thin, dried-up farmers dressed in dirty shirts and overalls crowd around the stage gawking at semi-nude women. Their faces are like weather worn leather--- parched and cracked. Only their eyes dance with an excitement I doubt they’ve felt in long, long time, living as they do, in this withered, god-forsaken place in Oklahoma.

 

The record player starts playing the Charleston. “Sugar,” I tell Bambi, “you’re up.” I turn and give her a hug and a gentle shove towards the stage entrance. “It’ll be fine.” To myself, I say, I hope.

 

Jimmy’s baritone introduces Bambi and she skips onto the stage smiling. Her routine is exaggerated and she flounces over the stage with wide kicks and bouncing breasts. When she unfastens her dress and tosses it aside, the crowd roars in approval. Then she squats and does that knee wagging, hands crossing Charleston thing. The crowd pushes closer to the stage.

 

The natives are restless. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I can tell Jimmy senses it too because I see him signal to a couple of the boys---big, muscular men who keep things orderly---and they move in front of the stage with their baseball bats at the ready. This crowd could turn ugly and I have yet to do my act.

 

I’m waiting at the side of the stage when Bambi comes scurrying off. She’s wide-eyed and pale. “Oh, shit,” she gasps. “I thought they were going to rush the stage, Cleo.” Her voice quivers.

 

I give her a hug and say, “But they didn’t, did they? Jimmy’s on top of it, like always.”

 

I let go of her and step toward the stage. She grabs my arm and looks at me with a desperate, wild look in her eyes. “Don’t,” she says, “don’t go out there.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” I tell her and gently remove her hand. She’s left red marks on my forearm.

 

Just when I expect Jimmy to announce my act, I hear him talking to crowd.

 

“Now, gentlemen,” he says, “I’m going to have ask you to step back from the stage. Our little Cleo doesn’t like to be crowded while she performs and I know you want to see her wiggle and shake her exquisite feminine form for you.”

 

I peek through the curtain and see him striding back and forth across the stage. He’s puffed up and looks downright menacing even as he smiles at the men. They’ve backed away from the stage. The boys and their bats have room to keep them at bay.

 

Jimmy continues to talk and the tension in the air dissipates then he cues the music. I smile. Good ol’ Jimmy, he’s giving the masses a breather to calm down.

 

“And now,” he booms, “heeeeere’s Cleo!”

 

I enter the stage on my tip toes and begin to belly dance in time with the music. The farmers start clapping and whistling. My hips shimmy and vibrate as I snake my arms across my chest, then up and down and out to the sides. I turn around and do hip drops—swinging my hips back and forth in rapid succession. Shouts of “Oh yeah!” and “Shake that ass, sweetheart!” ring out from the crowd. My abdomen undulates as I tiptoe forwards and backwards on the st

age. I do hip thrusts as I unfasten my bra top and then do shoulder dips after my breasts are freed. There are more wolf whistles and guffaws. When I turn around and shimmy my hips someone yells, “Oh fuck, I want a piece of that ass!” For a few more minutes I jiggle and wiggle all the while keeping a close watch on the cheering crowd. They’ve inched closer. When the music ends, I give the audience a wave and a smile and run back behind the curtain.

 

Jimmy is giving the after show spiel for the blow-off. “As I mentioned earlier, gentlemen, some of the ladies have an encore but as it isn’t part of the regular show, there’s an additional charge if you’re prepared to indulge yourselves.”

 

There are some loud complaints, and then Jimmy says, “I know, I know. I completely understand, but you kind gentlemen must agree, these ladies are certainly worth the price. It’s a mere dollar for the sight of a lifetime!”

 

Bambi comes over to me with a wide-eyed look of surprise on her face. I smile and nod. “See, I told you Jimmy’s looking out for us.” I hide my own surprise. Jimmy has doubled the usual ding fee. 

“He’s thinning the crowd out, because he knows most won’t pay that much,” I tell her.

 

“I’ve got to get ready,” I say and start back toward the dressing area, then pause and look back at her. 

“You don’t have to, you know. Jimmy will understand. Especially with this crowd.”

 

She nods, but I have no idea what she’d decided as I hurry off.

 

By the time I get back to the stage area, wearing a short, see-through wrap, the boys have collected the ding money and cleared the non-payers out of the tent. Three of the other girls are also dressed like I am. Bambi isn’t. I peek out front. The crowd has been reduced to about a quarter as many.

 

When Jimmy asks, “Who’s working after the show?” I turn around and say,”I am.” Three of the other girls also confirm they are, but Bambi isn’t one of them. I don’t blame her.

 

“Okay,” he says. “We’re going to do the blow a little different tonight. I don’t want you all out there at once. Improvise your routines. Utilize the snorting pole. Tease the bastards, but stay away from the edge. Louise, you’re up. I’ll cue you when to come in and when you’re done.”

 

He walks out to the front and cues the music and then Louise. I don’t watch.

 

The sounds of the midway filter through the tent and I can hear the sounds of the carnival: the organ music of the carousel; the squeals of children; the call of talkers; laughter. It occurs to me that I can’t remember the last time I actually laughed with sheer amusement.

 

“For our finale, I present to you, Cleoooooo!” Jimmy introduces me and I shake off my reverie and run out onto the stage. I flutter my wrap and let the audience see I’m butt naked under it. They clap and hoot. I do some acrobatics, cartwheels, splits, showing the men what they paid extra to see: my cooch in all it’s bushy glory. I do high kicks holding on to the snorting pole. My grand finale, though, is when I lay on my back, spread my legs and raise my hips directly in front of the audience. I wait and then squeeze my pelvic muscles and shoot a ping pong ball at the stunned men. I leap to my feet and dash off stage.

 

There is a hush, and then I hear: “Holy shit.” “How’s that even possible?” “Fuck.”

 

I’m in the dressing area sittin at a vanity and touching up my make up when Jimmy comes in. He puts his hand on my shoulder and meets my eyes in the mirror.

 

“Some show,” he says.

 

“Yeah,” Still meeting his eyes in the mirror, I ask, “So, how many you have lined up for me?”

 

“Six.”

 

I nod.

 

“I want Bull outside your tent. Just in case.”

 

“Fine.” I start to apply red lipstick.

 

“Cleo,” he says, but I interrupt him. “I know, Jimmy. I know.”

 

The cooch tent is in the livin’ lot, at the back of the carnival. Inside, there are six cubicles with a cot in them and a curtain across the makeshift doorways.

 

In front is a group of men milling around. They know why each of them are there for...waiting for their turn to fuck someone. They are antsy, and I assume most are already hard. I wonder how many of them have wives and family waiting for them somewhere on the midway, with no idea what their husbands and fathers are going to do.

 

The other girls and I slip in the back way, unobserved while Jimmy and Bull, the biggest and brawniest of the boys, go to the front. Jimmy sorts out who’s going to which girl and escorts them inside. It’s not long before the sounds of grunts and exaggerated moans can be heard and one by one, men leave in a hurry with their hats pull low over their faces.

 

The last man I see is a scrawny, ugly one with three missing front teeth and pig-like eyes.

 

I hand him a condom and he gives me an odd look.

 

“I ain’t wearing no rubber to fuck a whore,” he says.

I look at him and shrug. “It makes no mind to me if you fuck me or not. You’ve already paid. But you aren’t fucking me without one.

He spits on the ground. “I done tol’ you. I ain’t gonna do it.”

 

“Fine,” I say, “I’ll just call Bull in here, and he’ll toss your ass out like the trash you are.” I smile, but I don’t feel it reach my eyes.

 

His eyes narrow and he swears a string of vulgarities that in my other life would have made me blush. 

Now, I just look at him and wait.

 

“You fuckin’ bitch.” He slides his overall straps off his shoulders and fumbles putting the condom on a penis that is as scrawny as he is.

 

While he grunts and pokes me with his pencil dick and I pretend to enjoy it, an unexpected tear trickles down my cheek and I wonder when this became normal.

© October 2, 2012 All Rights Reserved