"Let's give them something to remember," Austin tells me, and then leans into me and, running one hand through my hair, whispers. "I sure am going to give you something to remember," he says, and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Grinning, Austin turns on his heels and walks to the edge of the stage. He opens his arms and looks up and, even though I can only see his back, he looks like a God to me.
Moving slowly, he takes his hands to the collar of his shirt and, grabbing it, he pulls on it harshly. The moment he does it, there's a loud sound coming from the speakers, the deep rumble of the bass and drums as a sensuous music starts. The crowd buzzes with excitement as the buttons in his shirt pop out, baring his ripped pectorals and hard wall of abs. I can't help but walk toward him and, before I can stop myself, I'm pressing my body against his, my eager fingers resting right over his abs and slowly running all the way up to his pecs. The crowd cries out, the women trying to live through me as I feel Austin's body; they're probably thinking that I'm part of the show. They have no idea that this whole show is meant for me.
I run my fingers down the side of Austin's body and, when I meet the hem of his pants, I slide my fingertips over his leather belt and only stop when I find its buckle. My fingers work with precision as I open it and then pull the belt out from its loops. Folding it upon itself, I snap the two ends together with a dry sound, and then hand the belt to Austin. I don't know why, but I want him to use that belt on me … Exactly how, I don't know. He takes it from my hands, and then my fingers go back to the front of his pants; I pop out the button on top, but before I can grab his zipper and pull it down, Austin turns on his feels to face me, the folded belt still in his hands. The look in his eyes makes my insides clench, and my heart starts racing at a furious pace.
"Sit down," Austin tells me, and I raise one eyebrow at him. Sit down where? But I don't need to ask him that: one of his male dancers-one of his Cobras-steps onto the stage and places a chair right in the middle, one of the spotlights aiming straight at it. I grin, anxiety eating my heart out, and walk toward the chair. I sit down and wait patiently as Austin walks toward me, my eyes never leaving the belt he has in his hands.
Letting go of one end of the belt, he lets it fall until it almost touches the floor. Then, lifting it up, he brushes it against my knee and slides it up until it meets the hem of my dress. Using it to push my dress up, he bunches the fabric up until he manages to get a glimpse of my (completely drenched) black lace thong.
Then, he goes around the chair and positions himself behind me; the end of the belt is on my knee again, but this time he slides it up over the fabric of my dress, only stopping when its leathery end is nestled right in my cleavage. I'm breathing hard now, anxious to feel the warm touch of his fingers on me and not the cold one from his belt, and as if he can read my mind, that's exactly what he does.
He hangs the belt on the chair and, placing both his hands on my shoulders, pushes the straps of my dress down my arms. The fabric hangs limply over my tits, revealing the outer edge of my bra, and he lets go of it. He's going for a slow boil, and I can already feel the atmosphere in the whole bar changing. What's happening here? I can almost hear the dozens of women looking at us wondering. They're confused and horny, and completely unable of taking their eyes off of Austin and I. They're in a trance, and we are the pendulum drawing them into dreamland.
"What are you doing, Austin?" I ask him, my words drowned out by the loud bass coming from the speakers. Still, he hears me and leans into me, a whisper in his lips.
"Just wait and see," he says, "I'm going to show you what Python is all about." That makes my heart tighten up inside my chest; what is Python all about, after all? It's not really a bar, and it's not really a strip club. The place where dreams come true, one of the signs over the entrance reads, but what does that even mean? Sure, I like hot guys as much as the next woman, but what is all this conversation about dreams?
He walks around the chair once more and, now facing me, he grabs me by the hand and pulls me up to my feet. Then, before I can react, he grabs me by the hips and places one forearm across my lower back, forcing me to bend over; my hands go straight for the chair and I support myself there. I don't even move as I see him reaching for the belt; I just grow wet, my juices soaking my thong and starting to drip down my thighs.
He places the tip of his fingers on the back of my knee, and slides them up until he's touching the hemline of my dress. Then he lifts it up quickly, throwing it over my waist and baring my ass cheeks. Oh, God, I can already see where this is going.
Folding the belt again, he runs the leather over my ass cheeks and my crack, and then he takes it off of me. I close my eyes, bracing myself for the impact, but it doesn't come. Only when I relax my body and open my eyes to see what's happen, do I hear the whistle of the belt cutting through the air, and then I can't stop myself from moaning as the leather lands dryly against my bare ass cheeks. I'm grabbing the chair so harshly that my knuckles are turning white. Then, I hear that whistle in the air again and clench my ass.
"Fuck," I moan loudly, my voice quivering and blending with the dry sound of the leather smacking my ass. Austin isn't holding back, even though he isn't really smacking me with all his strength, he's not being gentle about it either. And, God, I just love it. There's something about bringing a little bit of pain inside the bedroom, or, well, the stage. I know that not all women enjoy it, but I've always loved to roughen things up a bit. "Harder," I tell Austin, looking back at him with a devilish grin on my lips.
"Harder it is," he grins back at me, lifting his arm and then lowering it, the belt firmly clenched by his closed fist. I face forward and grit my teeth, a violent shiver going up my spine as I feel the pain of impact. By now, my ass should be covered in strips of burning red, and I get even wetter as I realize that every single woman inside Python would trade places with me in a heartbeat, and all just for a chance to be closer to Austin.
I cry out loud as pain stings me again, but this time he isn't using the belt to smack me; no, he's using his open hand. He smacks me again and again, the rhythm of it keeping up with the steady beat of the music. I'm moaning like crazy, my voice quivering as I feel my nipples screaming to be set free from my bra, my pussy desperate to get rid of the thong.
"Stand up," Austin whispers, and my body obeys. I stand up and turn on my heels to face him; with a smile, he throws the belt onto the floor and then, placing both his hands on my shoulders, pushes me back. I sit down on the chair as the music kicks into high gear, and Austin places both his hands on my knees and forces me to spread my legs. Standing up, he lifts his right leg and places his shoe right between my legs. I move as if I'm in trance, reaching for his shoe and untying it. I take it off, and then he switches legs and places his left foot between my legs. I do the same, untying his shoe and taking it off, and it seems that with every piece of clothing that comes out of Austin's body the crowd goes crazier and crazier.
Taking the lead, I reach for his waist, allowing my fingers to slide down to his crotch, and I flatten the palm of my hand against his hard on. His thick shaft is already pushing against the fabric of his pants and against my fingers, and so I do the next logical thing: I pull his zipper down. The moment I do it, his hard cock pushes even more fiercely against his boxer briefs and I have to take a deep breath to stop myself from pulling both his pants and underwear down to his ankles. We're on stage, right? So let's put on a show for all these women.
I take my fingers back to his waistline, and slide them around it until they're resting over his ass. Hooking my fingers on his pants and boxer briefs, I start to pull them down, baring his ass to all the horny women in the audience. They whistle and shout, going completely berserk as I reveal more inches of his body. Then, moving quickly, I push it all down to his ankles, his cock springing free right in front of my face.
Austin steps out of his clothing and then, picking up his boxers from the floor, throws them into the audience. I can only see shadows and silhouettes, but judging from the anxious sound from the women in the crowd, I know that some lucky girl has managed to snag Austin's underwear. Swear to God, women can be raunchier than men.
Facing the crowd, Austin walks to the edge of the stage again and pushes his ruined shirt down his arms. The crowd gasps as he opens his arms and throws his head back, revealing his naked body in all its glory. Some of the women get up from their seats and walk up so that they can take a better look at Austin's gigantic cock. From the corner of my eye, I see some of the security guys getting up from their discrete corners to position themselves between these women and Austin, but he just waves the men away. This is a women's club, and Austin wants them to be as wild as they want to be. And that's exactly what they do; they go to the edge of the stage, reaching for Austin and cry out in delight as they manage to brush their fingers against the naked skin on his legs.