Stripped and Teased at the Party

The biggest surprise was how much I enjoyed being on show.
I was his whore, paid by the hour to be whatever he wanted me to be, to do whatever he wanted me to do. Since I arrived, he’d had me wait in his bedroom dressed in pearls and heels but nothing else.

I waited, anticipation tingling in my belly. A person could get used to anything, but I wasn’t there yet. I was a good girl at heart, I told myself, a good girl with a soul-crushing credit card bill. Sweat dampened my armpits, my palms, and the bottoms of my feet as I heard guests arrive. Guests? I hadn’t expected that.

Soon his home was bustling with people. Fragments of their conversations floated to me. I heard talk about weddings, babies, work, and family. For a moment, I was brought back to those guilty hours I spent hiding on the second-floor landing, listening to my parents and their friends talk and laugh when there were parties at our house. I had the same feeling: like I was somewhere I shouldn’t be, like I could get into trouble if I was caught, but the risk was a part of the fun.

After almost two hours, the door to the bedroom cracked open and light spilled in. Fear caught in my throat, and I only breathed when I saw it was Alex, my client. Though his features were obscured in the shadows, the silhouette of his face hinted at his classically handsome appearance. He stepped into the dark room but didn’t close the door all the way. His tall frame threw a long shadow in that triangle of light.

“Madison,” he said, holding out his hand. “Come with me, please.”

My whole body tingled at his low, serious voice. My instinctual response to his masculine voice was to take the strong hand he was offering me and follow him where he led, but the rational and emotional side of my being realized that danger and shame waited for me on the other side of the door.

“I can’t go out there,” I hissed. “Please. How about a nice blowjob right here.”

“You are a whore. My whore. Please, come with me.”

What he didn’t know was that I wasn’t a whore. A whore could walk out naked into a room full of people and have fun with it, but I was just a girl with debt pretending to be a whore. Still, I couldn’t run away from every job that debased me if I ever wanted to make any money.

Sighing, I acquiesced.

Taking his hand, I allowed myself to be led out of the bedroom. My heart raced so quickly at the thought of everyone’s eyes on my naked body that I felt almost lightheaded, like I was floating down the hall and into the kitchen.

When I entered the main room, I silenced it. Within seconds of my entrance, conversation dried up and all his guests stared at me. Except for a few quick glances, I kept my eyes on the ground, but I was able to see polo shirts, sundresses, blue jeans, blouses. I saw white wine and IPAs. This was not some underworld event, it was not a trashy booze-fest, a bachelor party or an investment banker’s birthday.

Alex’s party was an ordinary group of friends getting together for a couple of drinks on a Saturday night. They had kids home with a babysitter; they’d driven here in sedans; they’d brought cheese dips and guacamole and were drinking wines that weren’t the cheapest in the store, but firmly in that middle tier.

I’d been to parties exactly like this, and now I was standing naked in the middle of one. Although my heart still raced and my palms were sweaty, I was surprised to find that my body was fully aroused, even if my brain hadn’t caught up.

My pussy felt wet and hot. My nipples were rockets launching from my upturned tits. My skin was flushed with heat, my nerves standing at attention. I knew my face was blushed, betraying my embarrassment, revealing the girl I was trying to keep hidden under my whore’s mask.

Alex stood behind me. I felt the rub of his belt against my back, and the swell of his cock against the soft flesh of my ass, telling me that my embarrassment aroused him. He whispered in my ear.

“Do you like how everyone is looking at you?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

I knew it was what I was supposed to say, though I wasn’t sure if it was true. The thrill was so intense that my knees were weak and my body felt like it was going to burst from the inside out. I liked it and I didn’t.

He put his hand under my chin and forced my face up, commanding me to look at his guests. I bit my lip trying to force a smile before finally meeting their eyes. They all looked so familiar, like I could easily have been on the other side of the equation.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his lips caressing my ear.

I felt his hands on my body, teasing me. I rocked against him, unable to avoid being swept up in the sexual tension of the moment. When he pinched my engorged nipple, I squealed at the sudden sharp pain, but it only made me wetter.

“You like that?” he asked.

The silver metal of his watchband scratched my skin as his hand discovered how slippery my pussy was already.

I nodded.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” I gasped. This time I meant it.

His strong, sure fingers continued to bump against my clit while his friends watched. My hips rolled involuntarily, and I knew my body was eager for more, even if my brain still resisted.

I made eye contact with a woman near me who was watching with frozen fascination. I was surprised to find that her look was not judgemental, but almost envious. Her partner stood behind her, and I saw her hand sneak across the front of his jeans, grabbing at the bulge he couldn’t hide.

“I want you to come,” he growled in my ear.

I shook my head, pleading. “No, please.”

His index finger slid over my clit and curled inside me, finding my sweet spot and applying gentle consistent pressure while his palm bumped against my swollen sensitive nub. I squirmed against him, completely at his mercy. With his other hand, he pulled at my nipple until I whimpered and sunk down on him further, unable to resist the temptation to fuck his finger with my slick pussy.

“God,” I breathed, throwing my arm around the back of his neck, tangling my fingers in his soft curls.

“Keep your eyes open,” he commanded.

I struggled to follow his instructions, but my eyelids kept fluttering, and my eyes rolled back in my head with the pleasure of the moment. Desperate to obey, I focused on the woman beside me, noting the way she’d backed against her partner and the way his hand on her thigh had lifted her sundress just enough to reveal a little slice of white cotton panties.

“Come,” he demanded.

I couldn’t help but whimper and whine as I brought myself to an orgasm against his finger, spilling sloppily down my thighs, my face contorted with pleasure. When I had finished, he offered his fingers to me, and I ate hungrily, enjoying the taste of my cum.

As the moment passed, I felt the rush of my own nakedness flood back into my consciousness. Unwillingly, I peeled my eyes open and looked around the room, blushing deeply. I wanted to run back to the bedroom and hide, but Alex’s hand on my arm held me steady.

He grabbed a glass of wine from the counter and held it up for a toast.

“To my wife on her thirtieth birthday,” he said, letting me go, aiming his glass at me.

The room erupted around me, filling in the awkward silence in a rush. “To Madison,” they shouted in unison.

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