STORY: The Stripper Detective - MM/f, BDSM
John Simmons
her lust by stripping and selling her body to wealthy customers. But
sometimes she gets more than she bargained for.
She let Nolan drop her off and strode briskly into the lobby of her
apartment.
Bernie Robinson raised his eyes from the newspaper as she entered, and
she saw them widen appreciatively. She couldn’t help grinning, enjoying,
as she always did, how men reacted to the sight of her, especially in a
short skirt and tight top.
"Ahh, good evening Detective Tam," he said.
"Hi Bernie," she said.
"On hooker patrol again?"
"John patrol, you mean," she said with a grin.
"I bet you caught a passel of `em."
"I was reeling them in left and right," she said, passing his desk and
heading for the elevators. "Men are so cheap."
"We are that. S’long as you got the right bait," he said with a big
smile, his eyes never leaving her.
"Like my bait, Bernie?" she asked teasingly.
"Oh yes, ma’am!"
She laughed and pushed the elevator for twenty six, then backed up and
looked up to the corner, blowing a kiss at the camera there, knowing
Bernie would be watching her. Not only watching her, she guessed. He’d
tell Joel when he came on at midnight and probably show him the video.
I am so hot, she thought with a smug little smile.
Ten minutes later she was in jeans, a tank top, and tennis shoes heading
back out. It was almost midnight, but the night was still young as far
as she was concerned and she had the next day off. She took a cab
downtown, then walked the last few blocks. It wouldn’t do to have anyone
make any connection between where she lived and where she - sometimes -
worked.
She showed her key to the doorman and he stepped back a pace as she
crossed the lobby. Seventy flights up the polished glass doors on the
elevator opened to the seductive music and the recessed lighting of one
of New York’s more exclusive drinking clubs. The Pioneer Club was an all
male, all white bastion of old money. The yearly club fee was fifty
thousand dollars, and the cost of drinks and food hardly bore thinking
about.
The rug in the lobby was deep, plush red, the walls gleaming mahogany.
She passed the wide open door to the club and went in through the
employee entrance, and then down a back hall to the dressing room.
"Li, you’re late," Cheryl said.
"Almost late. That’s not the same thing," she replied.
"If you’re not on stage in five fucking minutes it’ll be the same
thing," the older woman snapped.
‘So bitch at me then," Ming said over her shoulder, stripping off her
tank top.
She stripped off her jeans and sneakers, hurriedly brushed out her hair,
then pulled it back into a pony tail behind her. She opened her locker
and took out her blouse and long skirt, stuffed her feet into white
socks, and then shrugged on the shirt and blue skirt. Karen helped her
put her shoes on while she was fumbling in the locker for her glasses,
then she snagged her blouse and hurried around to the rear of the stage.
Dana came through the curtains, naked of course, carrying her schoolgirl
outfit and gave Ming the briefest nod before Ming passed her by and
strode out onto the stage.
The club was dimly lit, with small oak tables circled by comfortable
padded chairs. The rug was deep blue, the walls dark oak. It was all
very - tasteful, and even the music was slower paced, and quieter than
any of the strip clubs Ming had been in.
But the principal was the same.
The music held a steady, no nonsense drumbeat. And she all but marched
across the stage, swinging her hips in time to the music, frowning out
into the all but invisible audience, tossing her head arrogantly,
sniffing in disdain as she moved around the circular stage. At
twenty-five, she had long learned what turned people’s cranks, and was
quite certain these rich old men had seen plenty of snotty, oh so polite
young businesswomen in their time. And, of course, there was the Asian
thing, the mysterious oriental girl with her presumed chastity and
enthusiasm for hard work.
Oh yes, she had their attention as she made a dance of head tosses, hair
swinging and hip rolling, all with a haughty look on her face.
And then the music changed and she flung back her arms. Her blazer
slipped quickly over her shoulders and down her arms, and she swung her
body, tossing it at the stage. Her hips rolled more seductively now, and
she ran her tongue across her lower lip as she leered at them. She
reached behind her and undid the pony tail then, as she shook her hair
out, tossed the plastic glasses at the curtain.
She taunted them with each button she undid down the front of her
blouse, then, instead of removing it, let her skirt slide down to her
feet and stepped on the heel of her shoes to kick free of them at the
same time.
Now clad in the long white shirt and white socks, she pranced girlishly
around the stage, but not for long, because Dana had just done the
schoolgirl bit. She teased them but half opening the shirt repeatedly,
then, as she had done with the blazer, threw her shoulders back and let
it spill down her arms and off. Now she was clad in just her tiny white
lace thong and half bra. She pranced about, then found the bar and swung
around it. She undid the bra and a shudder went through her as her
breasts were bared to the room, full and firm and a soft golden as the
spotlight followed her movements.
She backed against the bar, sliding her hands slowly up her body, up
through her black hair, then up the bar behind her, arching her back,
grinding her hips at them as she looked seductively out at the audience.
She twisted, grinding her pelvis against the bar, feeling the cool steel
sliding up between her breasts as she sank down onto her knees, then
onto her back, rolling over on the stage.
She pushed her bottom up, then let it sink as she pushed her front up,
letting her body undulate before them. Her heart pounded now as her
pussy throbbed with growing power. She had a small metal screw beneath
her tongue - one she always had to be careful not to swallow. Now she
took it out without the audience noting, and reached up the bar. Their
eyes were on her bottom as she swung it from side to side, and none
noticed her fingers inserting the small screw in a tiny hole in the bar.
She turned, waggling her tongue at them, then turned again, jumping up
and gripping the bar high, pulling her body several feet into the air,
then turning with much practised ease and letting her head and shoulders
drop down as she gripped the bar between her legs and thighs. Now upside
down, she squirmed on the bar, letting her belly and thighs feel for the
screw. She found it, pushed herself up slightly, and hooked it beneath
the waistband of her thong.
Then slid slowly down the bar, letting the screw peel her thong off as
her hands reached the floor and her body bowed back to slide along it.
Naked! She basked in the knowledge. She was naked before a room filled
with men, all of them staring at her. She slowed her movements, rolling
her hips, tossing her hair. The fact she had no pubic hair made her feel
even more exposed as she strolled fluidly across the stage.
Oh if the guys at the station house could see her now!
She slid to all fours, crawling, cat like, towards the bowl like bath at
the front of the stage. She let her body slide over the rim and down
into the curved plastic bottom as the small jets of water sprayed up
over her. She rolled over and let her legs spread as the warm water
flowed over her shoulders, arching her back, and running her hands
languorously over her slick, wet skin.
She sat up, letting the lights play over her wet, glistening body. She
shook her head playfully, showering some in the first row with water
droplets, then rose on her knees, caressing her body suggestively,
rolling her hips. There was a small plastic "stool" at the centre of the
"tub" and she sat in it, legs spread, head and hips rolling to the
music, fingers moving through her wet hair.
And then she was up out of the tub, strolling along the stage, water
dripping down her body. She reached the bar again, removing the screw -
so the next girl wouldn’t bitch - letting her wet, naked body undulate,
pushing her bottom out, then twisting around to hold the bar against her
back.
And then she was done, prancing across the stage to the curtain amid the
applause.
"Nice show," Cheryl said, slapping her wet bottom as she passed.
Ming yelped and gave a little jump, but only glared as she took the
towel Brandy tossed her and began to dry off.
She had been working at the Pioneer club for two years. She only worked
a few hours a week, if that, enough to safely exorcise the wild sex heat
which built up in her body without fear of getting a reputation among
the people she worked with. The club liked it as well. It wanted
variety, but it wanted people it could rely on for their discretion. She
was a known quality, and a nice change from the many blondes who pranced
across the stage.
"Room Nine," Carol said. "Don’t bother to dress."
Ming snorted, and picked up a hair dryer. She quickly and roughly dried
her hair, brushing it back furiously as the hot air howled.. She pulled
on a thin, black silk dress which fastened up the side, then hurried up
the hall.
The only rule about contact with the members was discretion.
She pushed open the door and dropped the smile from her face.
His name was Carruthers. He did not want her to smile. He wanted her to
cry. The man was a racist and a pig and she heartily disliked him. Yet
he reminded her too much of the British man who had taken her virginity,
and a dark side of her found her loins growing moist and heavy at the
sight of him. Her nipples were instantly erect against the thin dress,
and she dropped her eyes in pretended shame as he pushed the door closed
behind her.
"Hello, little slut," he whispered, his hand running over her body.
She did not reply, keeping her head downcast. She knew he did not want
her to talk.
"I’ve brought a friend for you," he said.
This did cause her to look up, and she gasped in surprise, not having
seen the other man. He was very large, with a shaven skull, a fat,
squashed nose, enormous shoulders, and a gap toothed grin. He was also
blacker than her hair.
All in an instant she knew what Carruthers intended. He would have the
Black man take her, enjoying himself at her presumed debasement. To a
man like him having a big Black man take her wold be almost like seeing
her being used by an animal. In truth, there was something to that in
her own culture, for there was little respect for Blacks among Asians,
and even against her will she felt herself instinctively reacting to that.
It would be degrading to let a black man have her. She knew that was
foolish but that was a simple fact of life for a girl raised in Hong
Kong, however sophisticated. And yet the thought of giving herself to
such degradation made the heat flare within her lower belly. To be used
by this man, this brute of a Black man, while Carruthers watched - . She
shuddered in helpless arousal.
But she did not show it. Instead she lowered her eyes and shook her
head, backing away.
The Black man moved behind her, and she gasped as he gripped her hair
and forced her head back.
"Gonna fuck you, bitch," he breathed in her ear.
Her hands instinctively reached up behind her, grasping at his wrists,
and he seized them, pinning them together behind her head and easily
holding them in place with one hand, a hand which also tugged at her hair.
Her back arched, she moaned softly as Carruthers sat to watch the show,
her chest heaving as she stared at him, as the Black man’s other hand
came around her to run slowly over her chest and knead her breasts.
He undid the clips at the side and the dress came open to reveal her
golden body. A bolt of raw lust ran up Ming’s spine, and she barely kept
herself from groaning aloud as one of the Black man’s big hands slid up
and down her body. His hand was warm and rough.
He kneaded her breasts roughly and pinched her nipples between his
thumbs and fingers, then ran his hand down between her legs, stroking a
sausage like finger along the length of her warm, moist sex.
He drew his hand back and pulled at her dress, drawing it off her arms
while shifting his grip to her elbows. She groaned in pain as her
shoulders were forced back, but made no protest. She had never spoken to
Carruthers, not a word. He wanted it that way.
The Black man produced a silk belt and Ming felt the smooth material
wrapped around her arms, forcing them back harder. She felt the loop
tighten, and moaned as her elbows pulled back further and further,
finally pressing together. The knot was tightened, and then another loop
went around her arms beneath her elbows, firmly binding them together. A
final loop went around her wrists, joining her hands, and then he seized
her hair, forcing her head back roughly, turning her, bending his own
body forward to mouth her breasts.
She gasped softly, trembling in his powerful grip as his lips moved over
her breasts, his tongue lapping wetly at nipples which crackled with
sexual electricity, his teeth digging into her flesh as he sucked hungrily.
He picked her up as though she weighed nothing and threw her onto the
bed. He strode forward, peeling off his shirt, then shoving down his
pants. He was enormous, she saw, with wide, excited eyes. But of course,
Carruthers would have insisted on that to whomever he had hired the man
from.
The Black man grinned lewdly at her as he moved to the edge of the bed.
He gripped her thighs, his enormous hands all but encircling her legs,
and forced them casually and painfully wide, exposing the narrow slit of
her sex.
"Goin’ fuck you, bitch!" he spat in an accent she was sure was for
Carruthers benefit.
There was something obscenely degrading about the two of them performing
this filthy act for the benefit of the old racist. Yet despite her
indignation at the thought it only made her more aroused, and she let
her body tremble as she looked at the man, gasping as she saw the size
of the cock he pressed against her.
Yet his cock glistened, and she knew he had oiled it, and as he rubbed
the head along her pink flesh she felt a sense of relief and renewed
heat, grunting as he pressed himself against her, as her pubic lips
spread wider and began to ache at the pressure.
"Fucking bastard old racist," she gasped in Cantonese.
The cock pushed into her, and she groaned aloud as her sex lips strained
to envelope the mighty girth of it. She felt it pushing deeper, sliding
slowly in and out as the man worked her pussy open. The oil helped, as
did the sex heat filling her, but he was still enormous, and she was a
slender woman who had never borne children. The pain threatened to
overwhelm the pleasure and heat for a time, but as he worked himself
deeper it began to fade, and then there was only the heat.
Carruthers watched with obvious vindictive excitement, and her mind
burned with shame and excitement that she would let him so degrade her.
The Black man’s cock continued to pump slowly as he worked himself even
deeper, and she felt herself cramping and aching as the head of his
uncircumcized cock drove to the very limit of her elastic pussy - and
continued.
"Oh fuck!" she gasped in Cantonese. "Fucking old pervert. You only wish
you had a cock like this!" she gasped.
She rolled her head to stare at him, knowing he would like the sight of
her spitting insults at him - so long as he didn’t understand them.
"Bastard! You can’t fuck a girl properly, can you!" she gasped. "Tiny
cocked white man!"
She groaned again, twisting and writhing as the Black man thrust himself
mercilessly up into her body. Did he know it was an act, she wondered,
or did he simply not care? She was bound tightly, completely at their
mercy. They could do anything they wanted, hurt her, and she could not
protect herself.
The thoughts were like oil on the flames consuming her body, and her
back arched helplessly as the Black man finally buried the last of his
mighty cock inside her quivering belly.
"Yes! Fuck her! Pound her!" Carruthers growled.
He didn’t, which led her to believe he was much more than the dull
street thug he was pretending to be. Instead he lifted her upwards. His
big hands still held her thighs in a tight grip, and he pulled on them,
holding them wide, raising her hips and bottom up off the mattress,
forcing her slowly up and down on his cock, displaying his strength and
power and her helplessness.
He began to move more quickly as her sex adjusted to the size of him,
and then he slid forward atop her, all but covering her body with his,
her legs sticking out helplessly to either side as she groaned under the
heavy, male weight, his musk in her nose, his breath against her cheeks
as he began to thrust more sharply.
The thrusting made her ache, but in a delicious, terrible way. She
gasped and groaned with every hard thrust, with the sharp, bruising ache
of his cock as it punched at her insides. His hands moved through her
hair and forced her head back, his big mouth coming down on hers, his
tongue thrusting into her mouth as his hips began to work faster and faster.
She responded with helpless lust, her tongue pushing up against his, the
two of them twining together as his muscled bottom rose and fell faster
and faster and she was battered beneath him.
Her gasps rose to soft cries of pain and pleasure, his cock pounding her
in a gloriously brutal manner.
He drew back, panting, eyes dark with hunger. His hands moved roughly
over her body, kneading and squeezing her breasts, then down onto her
thighs, forcing them painfully wide, turning her body slightly so
Carruthers could have a better view. And then he resumed his hard
stroking, kneeling between her legs, holding his body off hers by
pressing down on her thighs, his cock slicing back and forth through her
aching pussy lips as an excited Carruthers looked on.
There was a freedom in being able to speak without anyone hearing. Oh
they could hear the words, of course, but they would know nothing of
what she said.
"So good!" she gasped. "Oh fuck! Oh fuck it hurts! Oh God it’s so deep!
Fuck Carruthers, you bastard! Fuck me, negro! Ram it into me! Kill me
with your giant Black cock!"
Her head thrashed and twisted from side to side, her hair spilling back
and forth over her face as she gasped and moaned and writhed to the hard
pounding. She would be bruised tomorrow, would find it hard to walk
straight, but for now it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the
glorious fucking she was being given.
"Ahh, fucking hell!" she gasped, her insides both aching and burning.
"Fucking Hagwei! Rape me, Hakui so the Gwai Lo can feel like a man!"
Neither would understand the derogatory Cantonese terms for Blacks and
Whites, yet it was wild and thrilling and daring to shout them into
their faces. She clenched her teeth and arched her back violently, then
cried out as she came, her insides battered and bruised, flaming around
the hard black cock pounding up into her belly.
The Black man’s hands tightened on her thighs and he forced them up and
then back, jamming her knees against the mattress on either side of her
chest, leaning his body in as he continued to hammer himself against
her, his cock like a spear driving painfully deep into her sex.
She stared up at him through glassy eyes, still shuddering and writhing
to the power of the orgasm twisting through her mind and body. He
leered, forcing her legs back still farther, gripping them behind the
knees, then sliding them down to her ankles. He leaned over her, his
heavy body forcing her feet back over her shoulders, back against the
sides of her ears.
And then he began slam his body down against her with seeming total
abandon. Carruthers punching his fists enthusiastically into the air
before him as the heavily muscled man crushed the slender girl beneath
him, her endless gasping warbling groans and cries filling the air as
the bed creaked beneath them.
"You like that nigger cock, baby!?" the Black man gasped. "Fuckin chink!"
He lowered his mouth to hers, biting at her lips and tongue, thrusting
his tongue into her mouth as his hips hammered wildly down against her
upraised bottom.
The orgasm which had been spiralling downwards exploded anew. Ming had
only a moment to realize, with a dazed delight, that for one of the few
times in her life she was going to experience multiple orgasms, when her
mind was shattered by the concussion force of sensory overload screaming
through her mind. It shook her like a rag doll, and the white hot fire
of orgasmic pleasure burned through her blood and bone and sinews,
soaring, falling, then soaring again.
She groaned weakly, her glazed eyes fluttering through the screen of her
own hair as the Black man drew back. She lay exhausted on the bed, chest
heaving, skin gleaming with sweat, bruised and battered and dazed, her
legs spread wide.
"Did you like that gentle love making, my dear?" Carruthers asked in
smug delight.
"Gwai Lo," she panted.
"I’m sure that’s not very complimentary," he said with a chuckle.
"It’s Chinese for white nigger," the Black man said. "Or the equivalent."
"Do tell?" Carruthers seemed amused.
"Those other things, Hagwei, Hakui, they’re just plain old nigger."
Ming squirmed in embarrassment as the man looked down at her, gasping as
he grasped her hair and half dragged her out of the bed to stumble on
her knees at his feet.
"Well, how rude of the young lady," Carruthers said. "I’m sure you’d be
justified in punishing her for her harsh words."
"You think so?"
He lifted her arms up high behind her, forcing Ming to bend deeply,
gasping as her shoulders ached.
"Maybe you’re right."
The room was fully equipped for any kind of activity the members might
choose to engage in, and that included the thin chain the Black man
clipped to the silk binding her wrists, and the ring in the roof he slid
the chain through to force her arms up even higher and hold her in position.
Ming hadn’t bargained on this, and panted wildly as the man took a long,
thin quirt from a cupboard and swung it back and forth several times.
She did not like pain, and did not normally accept it from any of the
men who purchased her services. Yet such was her embarrassment and
discomfort she did not feel able to protest. She had been so overcome by
the man’s act that she had been sure he was an ignorant thug who could
not possibly know anything about her language.
Carruthers smirked at her as he rose and moved before her. Ming’s head
hung low, her tangled hair a curtain around her face. He slipped his
fingers through her silken hair and then yanked it up, lifting her head.
She cried out in pain, but an instant later he thrust his cock through
her open lips and over her tongue.
"Suck," he growled.
A shudder passed through her body. It was like old times; helpless,
used, and who knew what they would do to her?
She heard the quirt cut through the air, then felt the Black man’s hand
moving over her bottom. An instant later she heard it again, and her
eyes bulged, her body jerking forward as she screamed into Carruthers’s
cock. The quirt sliced across her bottom with stinging pain, and her
feet danced awkwardly on the rug as Carruther’s drove his cock forward.
Her tongue spasmed like a butterfly against his cock as Carruthers
pushed deeper into her mouth, and she gagged and choked as the head
pushed against the back of her throat. Another stinging bow from behind
made her cry out, the sound heavily muffled around the cock filling her
mouth. Her breasts wobbled and shook beneath her, and Carruthers reached
down to roughly fondle and squeeze one before returning the hand to her
hair.
Another slice of the quirt across her helpless bottom sent pain ripping
through her body. At the same time Carruthers gripped her hair in two
tight fists, one to either side of her head, and luged forward. She
gagged briefly as the spongy head of his cock slid across the little gag
thingee at the entrance to her throat, but the sharp, stinging pain from
behind momentarily distracted her as he head popped past and the shaft
began to follow.
Because of the position of her head his cock had a straight line right
down her throat, and Ming stared in shock at the sight of it sliding
forward into her mouth. Her throat felt completely blocked, bulging out
uncomfortably as the spongy head slid deeper and the shaft made the
slick, narrow tube strain and stretch.
And then her face was being ground into his groin, her nose crushed
against his flabby belly as he pushed the last of his cock through her
lips. A part of her was filled with shocked, heady excitement at taking
his entire cock down her throat even as she fought to control her body’s
instinctive responses. More sharp, stinging blows across her bottom
helped to distract her as Carruthers ground her face into his pelvis,
fingers tight against her scalp, twisting painfully at her hair.
His cock drew back, and her eyes became crossed as she tried to focus on
the glistening, spit wet shaft sliding out of her mouth, watching in
dazed amazement as more and more of it appeared, knowing it had all been
in her throat.
It pulled free and she coughed and gulped in air as saliva dribbled out
of her mouth. He chuckled in amusement, rubbing the spit wet cock over
her face as he held her head steady. Another blow from behind made her
cry out, and he seized on the distraction to thrust his cock back into
her mouth. He jabbed it against the insides of her cheeks several times,
toying with her, then at another blow thrust it firmly into her throat
and buried it in a single long stroke.
Then he began to thrust, pumping his cock up and down in her throat. The
Black man gave her bottom a final painful stroke of the quirt, then
threw it down and stepped closer behind her. She groaned soundlessly as
his hands gripped her thighs and forced them wider. This put more
pressure on her aching shoulders as her arms threatened to tear loose of
their sockets.
He had obviously become aroused by lashing her bottom, for she felt his
erection thrusting up into her sex once again, thick and hard and long
as it drove deep into her gut and began to pump, to match strokes with
Carruthers. She felt his hands beneath her, enveloping her breasts,
squeezing them up against her ribs, fingers digging painfully hard into
the tender flesh as he began to hammer himself into her from behind.
"The little chink has a tight cunt," he said.
"Then use it," Carruthers grunted, pumping steadily in her throat.
Black dots began to sparkle before Ming’s eyes as her chest burned from
lack of oxygen. Her eyes began to flutter and she swayed between them,
but then Carruthers pulled his cock free and she coughed violently and
gulped in deep breaths of air, gasping and moaning as her body was
rocked by the violent impact of the Black man’s hips against her bottom.
She almost didn’t notice it when Carruthers, pumping his fist over his
cock, sprayed his juices over her face.
He stepped back, panting, and the Black man seized her hair, yanking it
up and back painfully as he redoubled his efforts. Her entire body was
shaking violently as he pounded himself against her, and she cried out
repeatedly as his thick cock punched deep into her belly.
"You like that, bitch?" he growled in Cantonese. "You like that nigger
cock up your tight chink cunt?"
Ming could only gurgle and moan, the flames of sexual heat licking at
her mind as her eyes rolled back and she came again, the world all but
disappearing under a shattering haze of sensory bliss.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
From the ebook: The Detective, by Argus
Argus books have been published in paper form by Virgin Nexus, Silver
Moon, Star, Olympia, Chimera, and Beeline. His ebooks are available for
download at http://www.ebookblue.com