Thursday’s Sticky Note
I did as I was told.
It was an east side strip club, on the other side of town. It was unlikely that there would be anyone that knew either of us. Unlikely, but not impossible, so in addition to being in public, there was an extra element of fear.
I arrived at exactly 12:00, or as she had told me, high noon. It was a Thursday and probably the typical Thursday noon crowd. A combination of perverts, alcoholics, businessmen, and construction workers. When I walked in, wearing the tight gray pants my mistress wanted to see, it felt like everybody in the place could see the outline of my cock cage straining against the tight microfiber pants. I sat down quickly, assuming a position close to the stage, where a woman was spinning around the brass pole, her platform heels coming close to my face. I ordered 2 beers from the waitress.
I pulled out the money I was told to bring and started giving it to the dancer. She put her chest in my face and then slid back and opened her legs and ran her fingers over the neon orange g-sting bottom that was the entirety of her costume. In the state I was in, it was tough to pay attention. What I really wanted to do is look over my shoulder at the front door and see if my mistress had arrived yet.
The waitress delivered the beers and I paid in cash. There would be no credit card receipts from here. As instructed, I didn’t take even a sip from the bottle of beer. I was to wait for permission. Waiting for permission was a common theme for me these days. I didn’t have permission to drink the cold beer, so I watched the two bottles sweat in front of me, one my flavor, and one hers. I didn’t have permission to have a hard-on, so I watched the dancer with my cock in the cage. But my balls didn’t understand permission. They sent signals to my brain and to my cock that we should have a hard-on. They tingled with the message that reminded me that I like legs, and high heels, and breasts attached to a women who could shake her ass like she wanted you to eat it. But I couldn’t get hard in the cage. I could probably start leaking out of it. I worried that my gray slacks would develop a wet spot, since my keyholder told me not to wear underwear. She told me that she wasn’t going to either, so it would be fair.
Then the door opened behind me, letting in the midday light into the dimly lit bar. The hair on my arms stood up in nervous excitement. It’s the nervous excitement that drives me crazy. Knowing that a beautiful woman is in control of you. Knowing that she loves to play with you, loves to tease you, loves to use you as her sex toy, loves to show you off, loves to humiliate you if necessary, but mostly she loves to wield the power she has over you. I want to give myself over to her desires and needs. The electricity of being under her control is mind-altering.
And it is her walking in this time. God, she looks great, I think. She looked right past me like I wasn’t there. She smiled at some of the guys drinking their lunch at the back tables. Her blonde hair was styled perfectly. She was wearing a white tank top that showed off her strong tan shoulders. She wore a gray pencil skirt, and I assume, no panties. She was wearing stockings though and her calves looked amazing as she walked across the room in the black high heels I was ordered to buy for her. She walked past me like I wasn’t there and then went to the other side of the stage, sitting opposite of me. She smiled at the dancer, put her purse on the floor and then finally, finally, as I longed for her attention, looked at me.
She didn’t smile. She just stared. And I just about trembled.
The dancer came over to her and did the typical strip club dance for a dollar. It was incredible to watch my mistress watch a woman dance in front of her. I was so jealous of both of them. As the song ended and the dancer pulled her g-string, requesting a tuck, my mistress leaned in closer and spoke to the dancer. The dancer then came over to me and said, “She says you owe me $20.” I quickly fumbled for my wad of cash and pulled a twenty dollar bill and held it out between two fingers. The dancer said, “She said you have to put it in your mouth.” I put the bill between my teeth and strained forward, thinking that I would at least get the pleasure of putting the bill in her g-string, but the dancer started to leave me, she said, “You’re supposed to hold it there until I get back.”
And then the dancer went to the other side of the stage, flipped down on her belly and put her ass up in the air in the general vicinity of my beautiful keyholder. I could see my mistress’s face over the dancer’s ass and they both stared at me smiling, as I stupidly held the cash in my teeth, a symbolic erection for the one I couldn’t get under the table.
Feeling foolish, I was relieved when my mistress spoke again to the dancer and the dancer came over and put her ass in my face, grabbing the twenty with her ass cheeks. The dancer said, “She wants her beer.” So I started to hand the dancer the beer to deliver and my mistress shook her head no, and then made the universal sign for walking with her fingers and she pointed the way around the stage.
Oh, fuck, i thought. My balls were about to burst and I know I was leaking. But I stood up and grabbed both beers and walked around the stage. When I got there, I set her beer down in front of her, and said, “May I?” indicating the chair next to her. She thanked me for the beer, but said, no, I needed to go back to the other side. I walked back quickly trying to ignore the guys in the room looking at me like I just got shot down. I sat back down in time to see my mistress talking again to the dancer. I was scared of what could be next. The dancer just looked up at me and smiled as she sauntered to the pole and swung around a few times.
She came over to me and said, “It’s my lucky day. She says you owe me $20 more.” I took another twenty and put it in my teeth. “No,” the dancer said, “I want you to tuck it in your waist band.” So I scooted the chair back a little and put the bill in my waist band. The dancer was kneeling on the stage and leaned over my lap, putting a hand on each thigh, dangerously close to my balls and cock cage. Her long black hair fell into my lap as she pantomimed giving me a blow job. Again, I was looking over her ass at my mistress, who had a sly grin on her face, as she enjoyed my torment. The dancer came up with the $20 in her teeth and tossed it toward the pole. She put her hand out and said, “She says you have a key for her and I can deliver it.”
I pulled the leather necklace out of my pocket. The single silver loop had a small padlock key on it. I placed the necklace in the dancer’s hand. She looked at it. “What’s it to?” she asked. I panicked, not wanting to tell the truth. My stomach flipped as I hesitated. I said, “My heart,” and tried to smile like I was comfortable. The dancer laughed as she stood up and then looked down at me and said, “I don’t think so.”
She delivered the key to my keyholder, who stretched it out in front of her. My mistress did that sexy move women make when they flip their hair aside to put on a necklace. Then she reached behind her bare neck, the bare neck I so badly wanted to kiss and lick and bite, and she clasped the necklace together. Then she adjusted it in front, so the ring and the key sat perfectly on her chest. She smiled at me and I felt good, the nervousness washing away for a second, knowing that she was pleased with me. She took a long slow draw on her bottle of beer, never losing eye contact and it was the most sensual sip of beer I had ever seen. When she finished she held out a finger and motion for me to come over.
I walked around the stage, past where the dancer was putting on a show for a couple of other patrons. I started to pull out the chair next to my mistress, when she stopped me and suggested that I ask permission. Fuck, I thought was she going to turn me away again? I said, “May I please sit down next to you?” She looked at me like I had made a mistake. “How did you address me?” she asked. I had forgotten something. So I repeated the request, even more scared that I would be sent back. “Mistress, may I please sit down next to you?” She waited a full two seconds staring at me and the she said that I could.
She asked me how I was doing and I told her that I was so nervous I am shaking. She patted me on the thigh and said, “You’re doing fine, my pet.” I loved it when she called me “my pet.” And then her fingernails ran to the inside of my thigh and brushed against my balls before running back down my thigh. I took a big swig of beer to combat the excitement.
We watched as the dancer came back to the pole in front of us,
“Do you like her?” my mistress asked.
Again, I was uncertain how to answer. The dancer was strong and had nice legs. Too many tattoos and the dirty feel of a Thursday afternoon stripper. But she could move her ass in a sexy way and had seductive eyes that at first looked like she liked me, but since my mistress’s arrival now looked like they mocked me. Both of which I enjoyed. But I didn’t know what my mistress wanted me to say. I reached for an answer.
“I think she is like your riding crop, mistress. Both sexy and painful, but mostly a tool for you to use as you please. I am enjoying the way you are using her.”
My mistress nodded her head, apparently pleased with the answer.
“Is she turning you on?”
“No, mistress,” I said truthfully, “you are.
My mistress smiled again and took another drink as she watched the dancer and slid her hand up to my cage. Feeling the package, bound tight.
“Good boy,” she said. “I think it’s time for a table dance.”
(to be continued)
