Rich Girl Has To Sell Assets
JUST CALL ME NOCTURNE. I grew up in an affluent suburb as the pampered daughter of the richest man in town. I wanted for nothing material.
If the other little girls had one fancy dress, I had ten. When the other little girls wanted an ice cream cone, I wanted Hagen Daaz. By the time I graduated from high school, I had become the total rich bitch.
I was planning on spending my last summer before college lazing on the beach at either La Jolla or perhaps a resort on Wailua Bay in Hawaii. Of course, I would need a complete new wardrobe for the trip and enough spending money to hit the hot spots at night.
My father suddenly barges into the house one afternoon. He tells me the authorities have found out what he's doing. Apparently what he's doing isn't legal. He tells me that I have an hour to pack and leave. If they find me before I get away, they'll seize everything my father and I have. There'll be a long, nasty trial and an even longer life of poverty for both of us.
I quickly gather what I can and stuff everything into a Mustang convertible.
Daddy says the Mustang is the only car they can't trace. Daddy gives me all the ready cash he has, which amounts to a little more than $1,000. He tells me that, if I use a credit card, they'll use the charge records to trace me. If I try to use my checking account, the checking account will be soon frozen and also they'll trace me by the bad checks.
I try to talk Daddy into leaving with me. We can go some where and hide.
Daddy tells me, "With only $1,000 I can't make a living. I'll stay here and do what I can. You need to run as far as you can."
I say goodbye to Daddy and leave. I'm driving down the back road and just turning the corner when several official looking cars pull into the driveway to Daddy's house.
I drive for a while, mainly using secondary roads, obeying the speed limits and kind of just keeping out of sight. As I drive, I think my situation over.
Why did Daddy not at least take one of the other cars and run? OK, they can trace the car and he would have had to abandon it. However, Daddy can start back up again after he abandons the car. However, whatever it is that Daddy does requires a lot of money. If all Daddy has is $1,000, he can't make it. Thus, he decides to give his daughter a chance to live her life. Good old Daddy!
Wait a minute! What the hell am I going to do? I'm trained to be the pampered wife of a rich man. I can do nothing that'll earn me a living. However, Daddy wouldn't send me away if there's no hope for my future. Whatever his faults, he's always taken care of me as best he could. Thus, he can see a way for me to survive, even if he didn't tell me how. If I'm to survive, I have to earn a living. I just have to figure out what I can do to earn a living.
I stop at a place just before the junctions with the big highways. I get the car serviced and filled with fuel. While I wait, I go into the restaurant that's part of the same complex. I'll charge the car service and the lunch on my credit card. They can trace the use of my card to the complex, but that'll really tell them nothing. I'm already learning to be a miserable little thief and I'm not yet an hour away from home!
I get a salad and iced tea and start to list everything I can do. I can sing a little, dance a little, run a house with servants, shop for the latest in expensive fashions and a few other things that are of no earthly use. I can't start up a rich lady's shopping service with only $1,000. I can't trap a rich husband with only $1,000 to work with. I can't sing well enough to earn a living at it. I can't dance well enough ...
All at once, it hits me like a hammer! I can't dance well enough to earn a living at it. That is, I can't earn a living dancing with my clothes on. However, if I'm to strip or dance nude, who'll care all that much about my dancing? I can see that I'll have to live like a common whore. Why did Daddy not have me stay with him and we could try to make it back to the top after they take everything they can find? Daddy must have hidden some money somewhere and we could use that to start.
I slowly come to realize that they're going to put Daddy in prison for his crimes. They'll not let Daddy out of prison for a long, long time. Even if he has money hidden, the government will probably find it, over time. In any case, by the time Daddy gets out of prison, he'll be old and so will I. I suddenly realize why Daddy didn't discuss my situation with me. He couldn't bear to tell me the awful truth.
I redo my inventory. I'm five feet six inches tall, with a slender, toned body. I have natural blonde hair and a fairly nice set of round breasts. The boys back in high school used to stand in line to try to get dates with me and I never put out, well almost never. In any case I have the kind of face and body that boys like.
There's a big city not too far away; however, the police will probably look for me there. Then I remember that Daddy had taken some clients to a place down the highway a bit. He had dropped a packet of matches and I remember that the place is called The Pussycat Lounge. Daddy had been angry about me finding the matches and he told me that one of his clients had brought the matches with him and the place was basically a high class whore house.
I finish lunch and I get my car back and drive on. As I drive, I try to convince myself that I can just dance and make enough to live on until I can figure out what else I can do. I gradually come to realize that there's nothing else that I can do well enough to make a living. I can dance nude, but it won't end there. The one thing that I really have to sell on a continuing basis, well I'm sitting on it.
I get to The Pussycat Lounge just before dark. I brace myself and walk into the place, feeling like a whore. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other and telling myself that it's better to live as a whore than to starve to death
There's a girl setting up the bar. She looks annoyed and tells me they're not open yet.
I tell her, "I'm here looking for a job."
The bar girl tells me, "Well then, you'll have to talk with Andre." She points me toward a door.
Behind the door, Andre is a tall, nasty ass hole of a type I never would have dealt with back when I had a choice. He wants to know if I have any experience dancing.
I have to tell him no.
Andre takes a long look at my face and tells me that he normally doesn't hire girls with no experience. However, he's shorthanded for the night and he's willing to give me a chance. He tells me to take off my clothes.
I look around for the bathroom or whatever, so that I can at least take off my clothes in private. Alas, it's not to be.
Andre tells me, "Hey, don't look around, just strip."
I take off my clothes as calmly as I can and stand nude in front of Andre.
Andre looks me up and down and tells me to dance a little.
I do a few steps and he slowly shakes his head no but then says, "You'll do, at least for tonight." He then tells me, "OK, first you'll need to shave off the fur. Tonight, you'll dance nude for the customers. If any customer wants you, you'll fuck the customer. Do you understand?"
I gulp and say that I understand. Inside I realize that I understand all too well what I'm getting myself into. However, the specter of starvation is even scarier than selling myself.
Andre hits the intercom and calls for one Desiree. He also says something about a wild girl.
Desiree appears with some tools. I'm told to lie on a couch and spread my legs.
I can't believe that it's happening to me. I'm naked, in front of a man and being shaved still more nude.
Desiree calmly begins to shave my bikini area. The shaving is done while Andre looks on or at least while he does some paperwork without paying a lot of attention to Desire and me.
When the shaving is done and I lie with my bald pussy spread, Andre comes out from behind the desk and takes off his clothes. He puts on a condom and mounts me like I'm a piece of meat or something.
Andre has a good sized cock and he fucks me hard and deep.
I'm scared as hell, but I do the best I can. I figure that I'll have to fuck well enough to please the customers and that I'm being given my final exam.
Andre works me over good. He knows more about fucking a girl than any of the boys back home. He uses every bit of my pussy and moves both of us around just enough to vary the angle for each stroke into me. I can feel him deep inside me and, normally I would have been so damn excited I would have climaxed right away. The whole damn thing is so very strange and so scary, however, and I just keep responding as best I can. I have to please Andre. Otherwise, I won't get the job I have to have to survive.
I do begin to get excited and I clamp down on Andre's driving cock and he climaxes. I can feel him tense as he shoots his cum into the condom. I do remember to help him, by milking his cock with my internal muscles.
When Andre is finished, he pulls out of me and tells me, "You were OK." He then tells me, "You'll work tonight. You'll get 75% of your tips and 50% of your fucking money. You'll fuck anyone who pays the fee. You'll damn well have an orgasm for each guy who fucks you and the fake had better be damn good. If there's trouble, Taffy will take care of it." He finishes by saying, "Oh, you're to clean the mess off the couch before you go." He throws me a roll of paper towels and a spray bottle of cleaner.
I'm so damn shocked I can't even react. In a few short hours I have gone from pampered rich bitch to probationary whore. However, I'm even more scared that I won't make it as a whore than I am that someone who knows me might wander into the place and see me.
Andre tells me, "Clean up the couch first, then get dressed and report to Desiree." With that, he turns and goes into his bathroom to get himself cleaned up.
I mechanically begin to clean the couch. I'm so numb I didn't really think about my being nude in an office where anyone might just walk in.
When I get the couch finished, I walk over to my clothes and start to dress. I'm just slipping into my pantyhose when Andre comes out of the bathroom.
Andre takes a quick glance at me and tells me, "You're to keep your pussy shaved clean at all times. You're to get some stockings from Desiree, instead of that pantyhose shit."
I finish dressing, still in a state of shock.
When I finish, Andre glances at me, then at the door to his office. My interview is over. My self respect is also pretty much over.
I stagger out of the office and go to find Desiree.
Desiree sees that I'm a real newcomer and she sits me down and tells me how things work at The Pussycat Lounge.
I'll dance nude for the customers. I'll always have my pussy shaved clean with no stubble. I'll always wear a garter belt and nylons at work. If the nylons get torn up, I'll have several pairs on hand, The Pussycat Lounge doesn't have girls wander around with nylons with runners or with tears in them. Some of the customers will demand that I wear nylons while they fuck me and that's $25 extra per fuck. The customers pay the Bartender before I take them into the back room. I can still get a tip from the customer in the back room. When I get the high sign from the Bartender or the Stage Manager, I take whoever the waitress brings me into a back room and fuck his brains out. Taffy will be watching and make damn sure the customer stays in line. If the customer gets out of line, Taffy will handle it. By the way, I'll fuck Taffy, maybe once a week to make sure that Taffy has my best interest in mind at all times.
Through my shock, I manage to ask, "Who's this Taffy?
Desiree waves over a large, brown man.
Taffy is a Samoan. He's maybe five foot ten inches tall and maybe that wide. He's not fat.
Taffy gives me a big smile. He tells me, "Taffy take care of the girls all the time."
"Sometime the girls take care of Taffy."
"You got trouble, Taffy be there for you." With that, Taffy turns and he's gone.
Desiree tells me that Taffy is my only defence against a nasty customer. I'm not to worry because Taffy can handle the biggest, meanest customer.
I ask, "Just how big is Taffy?"
Desiree looks at me then tells me, "Taffy weighs a little under 300 pounds. You're not to worry, Taffy takes it a little easy on the Pussycat girls. However, he still wants all his pussy."
Desiree then tells me that I need to dance. However, first I'm to take off my dress so that she can better see what I'm doing.
In a desperate attempt to retain a little dignity, I tell Desiree that I'm wearing sheer to the waist pantyhose.
Desiree sighs and tells me, "Not to worry. You'll work nude all the time and don't worry about the men seeing you, they see that all the time anyhow."
OK, I'm not a girl anymore. I'm just another shaved pussy. I think for just a moment that maybe starving to death wouldn't be all that bad.