I'm not dead yet ....

[Dr Charles Forbin]

The Mistress and I are following two different paths now..she is focusing on her music having severed her official connections to the Bank, and I have moved into the legal field .... 

There are still stories to tell... and it's time to start telling them again ...

All She Wants to Do Is Dance

Working in a different part of the Bank than the Mistress has made our contact somewhat more limited than in the past when I was working as her personal assistant, but time moves on and so must we.

She had in fact been traveling to a series of financial conferences due to the major financial meltdown of the previous year, so even our occasional dinners had been subject to the “Affairs of State” rule.

What’s that you ask?

If you’ve ever seen the film Blazing Saddles, you’ve seen a segment where Mel Brooks is hitting on his secretary and is interrupted in order to sign some documents.

“I’m sorry my dear, but affairs of state come before… affairs of state.” he apologizes as he signs the documents.

In all of my years of service to the Mistress, we have lived by that rule. If work is a higher priority, it gets priority and neither one of is upset or offended as long as the rule is specified.

When I transferred to the Transglobal Insurance division of the Bank, I had more call to use the rule than when I worked as her assistant, but even then I tried to use it sparingly.

In any case it had been a month or more since I had seen the Mistress and I had been considering dropping by the house when I got an email from her suggesting I pay a call to one of the local strip clubs.

Now that fell into the damned if I know why category, but it’s not the sort of thing she would suggest without good reason, so that night I did as she suggested and drove to a club on the far side of the City.

I’ve been a patron at one of the best known clubs in the City, the Mitchell Brothers O’ Ferrell and as some of you know, I even know a dancer or two who work there so strip clubs aren’t exactly a new venue for me.

This one didn’t look any better or any worse than others I’ve been in, although the parking attendants were far more professional than I’ve encountered in the past.

Entering the club I was asked for a small cover change and then buzzed into the main club area.

It featured a main stage and runway in the center of the room and a smaller stage against one wall. There was a roped off VIP area, which I avoided, not being inclined to pay more than I needed to for the show.

I found a table near the main stage and ordered coffee from the waitress and settled down to watch the show.

It was entertaining for the most part, although I had to focus on not cataloging the boob jobs. I’m just as happy to have a small busted girl get up and dance rather than watch her artificially enhanced sisters.

One girl in particular brought the words of Luke Skywalker to mind.

“Look at the size of that thing!”

The DJ did a good job at keeping the music loud, but not so loud as to make conversation impossible and soon he announced a two for one lap dance special.

The girls flowed onto the floor and in a steady progression asked if I’d like a lap dance.

My answer was consistently and politely “No”, but only because I was sure the Mistress hadn’t sent me there for just some bounce and tickle.

Then again she might have.

About an hour passed, pleasantly enough and one of the dancers, Manuela had made a couple of stops at my table to suggest a lap dance and took no for an answer well. Well enough in fact I was beginning to reconsider the decision.

She was a dark-haired Latin girl, older than the rest with a nice set of tits, erect nipples and still a trace of an accent in her speech.

“You’d like a dance with me, I can be very nasty,” she purred.

“I’m sure you could be. But could you be nasty enough?’ I teased.

“Try me and find out.”

Before I could reply to that the DJ called out a new girl named Gabrielle. I turned my attention towards the stage and then moved to a seat at the tip rail.

It was the Mistress.

She was wearing platform heels, and a black wraparound dress. Her hair was pulled back and she looked as she did when I first saw her.

The years dissolved away as she strutted to a piece called My Angel Put the Devil In Me, pulling the top of the dress down and teasing me and then whipping the dress off and throwing it aside as she mounted the brass pole at the center of the stage and launched herself into the air, and then hung from the pole upside down, twirling down it slowly and gracefully, giving all of us watching her full attention on each revolution.

Each time she looked at me her gaze intensified and she smiled as I threw dollar bills onto the stage.

She swept them aside as she came down to stage level and paused on all fours and looked at me with the passion of a wild animal, radiating a raw sexuality that time had clouded from my memory.

She turned away and made a clawing motion towards another man sitting at the far side of the stage, and moved panther like towards him causing him to flinch and drop a handful of bills before her.

As the song reached its climax she rose to her feet and changed from an animal to an Amazon warrior surveying her male captives, the same animal like power in her movements.

She stepped back into the shadows at the rear of the stage leaving the money like windblown leaves in her wake and I took a few moments to collect myself.

This was the Mistress Minx of old, the one who had taken me by force from the world and molded me into her tool and in that remaking, restored purpose and passion to my life.

I sat waiting for her to reappear on stage, needing to see her again in her wild state, divorced from the rules and protocols that ruled both our lives now, the mundane things shed for a time.

The only chains I wanted on me were the ones she had placed in those early days.

She returned to the stage to the XXX version of Fetish by Joan Jett just wearing the shoes and nothing else.

She once more mounted the pole, pressing it again her pussy and I could see a slight sheen of moisture on it as she moved against it, thrusting against it in rhythm to the beat until she once more slid to the stage floor and then rose to her feet and bent towards one patron and played with her breasts while her ass wiggled as it faced me and she tightened and loosened her asshole making me hunger to put my face in it.

She took a hand and passed it between her legs and looked through them and smiled a knowing smile at me before rolling over and shaking her ass in his face while she teased her nipples for me.

She knew the effect she was having on me and every man there and a few of the girls as well and relished it as she rolled on the stage under our gazes and absorbed our attention.

The song ended and she rose and gathered the bills that had been thrown onto the stage and her dress and withdrew backstage.

I moved back to my original table and signaled for another coffee and sat there struggling with the desire she had enflamed in me.

The DJ indicated another 2 for one lap dance and I prepared one more to say no to the girls.

I was beginning to identify with a line from a Martin Woodhouse novel - “I’d spent the evening saying no. I’d said it about as often as a virgin at a hunt ball and it was getting to be a reflex.”

This time however I didn’t get a chance to say no as the Mistress walked up, this time wearing a red sarong and asked if I would like a lap dance, but with the undercurrent of I would like a lap dance in her tone.

I followed her to one of the curtained area in the VIP section and she ordered me to sit down with my hands behind my head, fingers interlaced.

“No touching,” she warned. ”It’s against the rules.”

“Yes Mistress,” I stammered. “What are you doing…”

She stopped me with a gentle hand again my lips.

“Hush. Spoilers.”

The music started and she slowly removed the sarong to reveal her beautiful breasts, the nipples hard and erect. She had the glow of power in her eyes, the power a beautiful woman has over any man she desires.

And in those eyes I saw a desire for me, a desire beyond the service and love I had given her over the years.

She stood on my thighs and turned around, sliding her precious ass across my face, pressing her pussy into it to allow me to smell her essence and feel the heat from it.

“Yes my pig, smell me. Feel my wetness in your face,” she said stepping off me and then grinding her ass into my crotch.

“Oh yes Mistress,” I moaned.

“You’ve missed this haven’t you?” she said as she thrust her breasts into my face. “So have I.”

She stepped back and teased me with a pelvic thrust as the music stopped. She smiled as I caught my breath.

“Ready for another one?” she teased with a shake of her ass at me.

“Oh yes Mistress,” I agreed as the next piece of music started, which to my great delight was what I think of as the titty bar version of the Pink Panther theme.

She once more stood upon my thighs and waved her ass in my face, this time ordering me to kiss it.

I did hesitantly at first and then with more confidence as she spurred me on.

“Yes worship it like you mean it pig. Show me how much you love kissing my ass. I know you want to lick my pussy and asshole but you can’t do that here. I want you to think about it thought. Think about putting your tongue in my nice tight asshole and tasting it.”

I moaned as she reached between her legs and grabbed my nipples and pulled.

“Yes pig, open your mouth for me,” she commanded and releasing my nipples leaned back and let a trickle of piss flow into my waiting mouth.

“Drink it slave and remember how you begged to taste it that night before the naked stars when you accepted your place with me.”

The memories of that night flooded back. The club. The torment from Lydia on stage. My Mistress comforting me. The stars above us and the offered goblet of her golden wine.

“You are mine to do with as I desire,” the Mistress said stepping down and staring into my eyes and using her power, that Voice that put me under her total control. “I am your Mistress and I own you. As you were reborn by my hand, I have been reborn myself into my previous incarnation as when you first met me. You will serve me as you did then. Do you understand?”

“Oh yes Mistress,” I sighed.” The good old, bad old days.”

“Yes my precious pig. But it is time for us to go,” she instructed, gathering the sarong around her again.

I stood up and she led the way out into the main club and presented herself at the bar where the girl behind the counter collected the fee for the lap dances. I took my change and pressed it into the Mistress hand and thanked her for the dances, knowing that the words had a deeper meaning for both of us.

As I started to leave I was intercepted by Manuela who tilted her head back towards where the Mistress was still standing.

“You were waiting for her?” she asked.

“Uh, yes. Sorry about that,” I mumbled in embarrassment.

“That’s all right. Would you like a dance with me now?”

I looked back towards the Mistress and caught her eye. She smiled and indicated it was all right with an inclination of her head towards the VIP area we’d come from.

“Sure, why not?” I agreed and followed her to a different alcove than the one the Mistress and I used.

Ok, she was definitely nastier than a regular dance at a club like that, but didn’t hold a candle to the Mistress for style.

I did however get a good long suck on her nipples, making her shiver. She wanted to be touched and groped and the hell with the rules.

Well always oblige a lady.

After the song ended, we went back to the bar and I pad for the dance and tipped her as the Mistress in her guise as Gabrielle returned to the stage and gave her all.

I dropped my few remaining dollars on the stage and walked away thinking of the lyrics of the song she was performing to.

She wants to party

She wants to get down

All she wants to do is

All she wants to do is dance

And make romance.