The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Christine was in the small meeting room, sitting at the desk, naked from the waist down. It had almost become her room. Greg had told everyone else that she needed it for some special projects she was working on for him. Tania wasn’t the only one who asked what they were. Some of Christine’s colleagues were starting to give her odd looks. From the number of times her boss would come into the room, shut the door behind him. Did they think she and Greg were having an affair?

That was silly. If they were having an affair they’d meet outside of work. A hotel. Her place. Not some meeting room where’d he just bang her as if she was some slut.

Was she just some piece of office meat?

Christine didn’t think she was but she didn’t care. Just sitting there, half-naked, brought a wash of pleasure over her exposed skin, sent it snaking through her body. If she was naked she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. She gasped every time she thought about how exposed she was, the sensation ending in a pure delicious pulse in her denuded pussy.

It was so good.

She was still meeting with her colleagues. Tania most of all but others as well. Christine would be naked from the waist down, protected only by the desk, her arousal building as their eyes fell on her, barely holding it in check until they left, her arousal leaking to pool underneath her, cumming as whoever she’d been with left the room.

She couldn’t get enough of it, the thought of her bare, naked, flesh, exposed to them. It was all she wanted, all she needed.

Almost, anyway. She wasn’t naked for them. They couldn’t really see her. Couldn’t watch as she slowly slipped out of her skirt, let it slide down her legs. Couldn’t watch as her thumbs hooked into the waistband of her panties. As she slowly eased them down, stepped out of them, careful to make sure her high heels didn’t catch. They couldn’t see her bare flesh.

If they could see all that, see her, it would be so much better.

Of course for Greg she was much more than half-naked. He fucked her, almost every day. Sometimes twice in the same day. Christine didn’t object. But it wasn’t the point. She didn’t want him. He wasn’t a particularly skilled lover. That wasn’t what made her cum. Which she did, every time, smothering her cries so their co-workers wouldn’t hear her. It was that she was so exposed to him that gave her orgasm after orgasm. She’d take off her blouse, her bra (she’d worn one that day, which she didn’t always now, so delicious for her breasts to be exposed under her blouse), loving the feeling as the fabric slipped off her skin, better than any lover’s kiss, her need to take her clothes off, to be naked, making her gasp. She’d stand there, in front of him. Naked. His eyes on her, the feel of his gaze a caress, her first orgasm crashing through her before he entered her.

The sex itself barely tickled her arousal.

Being fucked by her boss was simply the price Christine paid to get what she needed. What she wanted. She wanted it now.

She wondered if Greg would be seeing her soon. He hadn’t visited her at all today. He was in some meeting. Maybe it would be over soon. Christine’s skin itched underneath her blouse. Her hand twitched as she fought to keep it from her clothes, the need burning through her. She wanted to take her clothes off, to be naked. Not for Greg, just for someone. He was just convenient. Anyone would have done.

Am I that much of a slut?

For a moment Christine imagined someone else coming through the door. Ordering her to strip. Letting her strip. Letting her expose herself.

With a feeling that was half-sinking, half-soaring, Christine realised that she would. It wouldn’t matter who it was. She’d do it. She’d need to do it. She wouldn’t be able to stop herself. Wouldn’t want to stop herself. She could imagine it now. Undoing her buttons, one by one, letting her blouse fall to the floor. Shimmying out of her bra. That other person’s eyes would be on her. Drinking her in. Possessing her. Taking everything she was. Everything she had. Being naked in front of them.

Exposed.

The thought itself was almost enough to have her cumming. She could reach under the desk. One flick of her clit, two at most, and she’d be cumming and cumming and cumming.

No, that voice in her head told her. That wasn’t how she got to cum. Not anymore. She only came when someone saw her. Even though she still stripped off in front of her mirror at home, enjoying every moment of it, she hadn’t cum like that for weeks. Now she only came at work. When Greg saw her. When one of her other colleagues left, Christine desperately hanging on so she wouldn’t cum in front of them. She needed someone seeing her.

It was better that way.

So she couldn’t touch herself. That was wrong. Putting her hands in the way would block someone’s view.

She hadn’t touched herself like that for weeks.

But she needed to cum. Christine wanted it so bad she could hardly think, raw need burying her thoughts. The idea of taking off her clothes was a living thing, writhing in her mind, her skin itching as her thumbs slid anxiously over her fingertips. Arousal was pouring through her, pooling underneath her naked arse.

Maybe Greg would come in soon. Maybe he’d finished that meeting.

She heard his voice. “Goodbye Miss Goddard. We’ll have that contract ready for you soon.”

Yes! Christine thought excitedly. She could hear footsteps approaching the room. Maybe now she could get what she wanted. She’d could taste what it would feel like to slip her blouse off. Her hand flew to the top button of the garment. Undoing it front of him would be like warm kisses on her centre.

It wold be better than that.

It always was.

“Well look at you,” the woman in the doorway smiled as she closed the door behind herself, Christine froze, the button half-undone.

“Who, who are you?” Christine asked nervously. She didn’t know what to do. Her hand stayed at the button. So much of her wanted to undo it, and another, and another. In so many ways it didn’t matter who this woman was. Whoever she was she could see Christine. If the desk wasn’t in the way she’d see Christine from the waist down.

Naked.

“Don’t you remember me?” the woman pouted, theatrically. Then she smiled, her look suddenly mature. Christine sensed layers beneath that smile. “It doesn’t matter. Stand up.”

“What?” Christine couldn’t believe what she was hearing. If she stood up then the woman would see that she was half-naked. Christine’s pussy pulsed at the thought. It would be so good. Someone else seeing her. Actually seeing her naked. But she couldn’t. Who knew what the woman would say. Would do. Christine couldn’t take that risk, no matter how much she wanted to. She had to stay where she was.

Christine stood up.

What?

Fear and arousal warred within her. Now that she was standing up she couldn’t move. Waves of pleasure were shooting through her as the woman’s eyes slid leisurely over her body, Christine quivering in response.

“Now let’s see the rest of you.”

A thought started to form in Christine’s head, was squashed before she even knew what it was. The fear vanished with it. The woman had told her to strip. It was what Christine wanted. What she needed. She couldn’t stop herself. Not when she had the chance to be naked in front of someone else.

Her hands were already on her buttons. She didn’t know whether she’d told them to do that or not. She undid one button, then another, her breath catching as each button slipped from its place. As her blouse gaped open, her skin revealed.

Christine’s eyes were half-closed, a moan escaping her lips as her blouse slipped from her shoulders. The sensation as her bra joined it on the floor it was like dozens of kisses on her breasts.

It was better than that.

She was standing there, naked. In front of this woman, this stranger. She’d never been naked in front of a stranger before.

It felt so good, hot and liquid, the pleasure cascading through her, washing away any hint of fear, of hesitation.

Christine was so close to cumming. She wanted to. Needed to. Someone was seeing her. Had watched her remove the last of her clothes. She was exposed. Her hips yearned to jerk forward. Her pulse was pounding in her ears, her breasts aching, wanting the woman’s eyes on them, every piece of her body clamouring for the woman’s attention

But Christine couldn’t cum, no matter how much she wanted to, even if it would only take the merest touch on her clit. Her clothes discarded her arms had fallen to her side, movement impossible again.

“Are you sure that you don’t remember me?” the woman asked as she slowly circled Christine. She was small and lithe and beautiful as a china doll. Younger than Christine and with pale blonde hair that was almost white. She was dressed in a smart blue skirt suit, its professional edge belying her apparent youth. Now that Christine looked at her she was familiar.

“Alice! You, you… What did you do to me?” Christine remembered now. That friend of a friend in the bar the night it all started.

“Just a few fun little tweaks,” Alice smiled. “In the bar. When you were having lunch. At the clinic.”

Christine could remember now. The girl drinking coffee as Christine had lunch. The other blonde in the waiting room before her appointment with Lisa. Other times that she half-remembered.

“Not just you. That girl in the clinic. Mmm, she does know what to do with that tongue doesn’t she?” Alice closed her eyes for a moment. Then she opened them, clear, blue pools regarding Christine, almost infinitely deep, the touch of their gaze a physical sensation, like delicate fingers caressing her, fire erupting from each piece of her skin they touched. “What was her name? Leslie? Lauren? Oh, Lisa. That’s right.”

“And your boss of course. Where do you think this desk came from?” the diminutive blonde asked as she hopped up on the imposing piece of furniture, her feet swinging in the air, heels gently clicking the front of the desk, the wood that had protected Christine from the gaze of her colleagues.

Nothing was protecting her now.

Alice smiled at her. It was a friendly, open smile, her blue eyes twinkling with mirth as she continued. “Why do you think he’s been fucking you rather than throwing you out on your ear?”

“What have you done to me?” Christine could hardly believe it. It was Alice. It had to be Alice. All of it. What she’d done. What she felt. Christine’s thoughts raced. It had all begun when Alice had said that word to her. Exposed. A delicious quiver ran through at the mere thought. She was so turned on. She shouldn’t be. She was. “Why?”

“Because I could,” Alice smiled, and now there was something in that smile that had Christine wanting to run far, far, away. “Because your boring little life needed changing. And because it’s fun.”

Christine opened her mouth to say something, to beg the shorter girl to leave her alone, but then Alice held up a finger. Christine could feel it on her lips even though it was feet away. “Shh. Don’t think so hard. Actually, don’t think much at all. Just think about what you want.”

Christine’s thoughts stilled, narrowed down. She was naked in front of this woman. She was naked in front of someone. It felt so good, passion and need and desire making her skin burn. She almost wanted to put her clothes back on just so she could take them off again.

Alice’s smile turned innocent, her head cocked to the side just so, the girl looking so cute it hurt. “I’d say you’re just about cooked now. I could tell you that you could have fought the addiction I gave you. That a strong-willed person could have beaten it. But I’d be lying. You’re hooked.”

Something in Christine’s head was trying to form words, trying to think. Christine barely noticed it. She didn’t understand what Alice meant, the words washing over her, her thoughts smoothed away. All she could think about was how good it was to be naked in front of this woman. How much she wanted to cum. How close she was to cumming, every nerve in her body singing.

Alice’s eyes swept over Christine’s body, Christine’s knees going weak as her arousal spiked. This was how she wanted to be, naked, exposed. Someone seeing her. She needed it. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t fight it. Fighting it would have needed thoughts she wasn’t capable of any more. And in the end, she didn’t want to anyway. She just wanted to be naked and cum.

Christine moaned in need, her centre trembling, her crest so close she could taste it.

“Now,” Alice continued, ignoring Christine’s pleadings. “You can answer this. Have you ever been with a girl? And don’t count Lisa. You didn’t do her.”

The fog over Christine’s mind lifted, just a little. Just enough to make sense of the question. “No,” she replied. It was all the question needed, so she didn’t say any more.

“Oh good,” Alice smiled, lifting herself off the desk and hiking her skirt up to reveal a pussy just as bare as Christine’s. “I do love being a girl’s first. You know what to do,” she added, one delicate finger indicating her centre.

The fog swirled again, blanketing Christine’s thoughts. She couldn’t speak, words lost to her. Her mind was a white expanse. Empty. So empty she couldn’t tell whether it was large or small. Could barely understand the concept of size. But somehow she knew what to do. Shaking, Christine took a few steps towards the desk, dropped to her knees. She leant in, the scent of the girl’s musk filling her nostrils.

Two words formed in the blank void of her mind.

No, I.

She wanted to be naked. She didn’t have to eat a girl out to be naked. She was straight.

“Oh, aren’t you fun?” Alice grinned happily. “So dedicated. So fixated. Don’t you worry about it. You do what I want and I’ll get you what you want.”

The few thoughts in Christine’s head smoothed away, vanished, evaporating in the fog. What she wanted didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what she thought she was or she wasn’t. Right then she couldn’t think enough to know what she was. She was doing this. She had to. She needed to. She was naked, servicing this girl and that was turning her on so hard. She was going to cum.

“Not yet you don’t,” Alice chided.

Christine mewled in disappointment. She could taste her orgasm. Like she could taste Alice, her tongue sliding along the younger woman’s opening, the contact sending electric waves through her, her pussy clenching. Cautiously her tongue slipped inside Alice’s folds, lapping at the other woman, her taste sweet and tart. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant. A thin bead of worry crept into Christine’s mind, almost a coherent thought. Was she doing it right?

The thought slipped away. From the noises Alice was making it seemed that she was doing something right. And if she kept it up maybe Alice would let her cum. Christine was so close, she was riding the edge, her crest a heartbeat away.

“Oh, just there,” the shorter girl cried. “Deeper. Yes, Like that. God. Now my clit. Not that hard. Like that. Fuck, yes.”

Christine felt Alice shudder beneath her as the girl came. Then Alice’s high heels were on her shoulders, pushing her away. Christine lay sprawled on the ground. If she could think she might have been aware of how vulnerable the splay of her legs made her. Might have liked being that exposed. Instead she rose back to her knees and leaned in until a single delicate finger on her forehead stopped her.

Alice hopped off the table and smoothed down her skirt, an innocent smile on her pretty face.

Christine’s need roiled within her, like a caged animal straining to break free.

“Not bad for a first time,” Alice mused, bending down and tapping Christine on the nose. “You’ll learn. Now put your clothes on.”

Christine whimpered in disappointment. Even without thoughts she could want. She wanted to cum. Needed it. Her pussy was dripping. She needed release.

“We’ll need you a little aware, won’t we?”

Christine knew where she was. Naked. On her knees. Being naked in front of this woman was stoking her arousal higher and higher. Her hands were shaking. Just a little touch would be enough. Maybe if Alice’s gaze swept over her one more time.

“Get dressed I said,” the younger woman snapped, anger flashing in her eyes. “You’ll get to cum when I let you.”

Dumbly Christine did as she was told, then stood in front of the waif-like blonde. She still wanted to cum. Maybe if she took her clothes off again she’d cum. But she knew that she wasn’t allowed that.

Not yet.

“Pick up your purse,” Alice ordered. “Don’t worry about anything else. You won’t be coming back. But there’s no need to say goodbye.”

Christine struggled to make sense of Alice’s words. She wouldn’t be coming back? Something was wrong with that. She worked here. That meant she had to come back, didn’t it? She shouldn’t be listening to this girl. Shouldn’t be doing what she said.

Shouldn’t want to just take her clothes off again.

But she did. It was all she wanted.

Maybe then she’d get to cum.

“Follow me,” Alice ordered.

Christine did as she was told. Not responding when she heard Tania call out to her. She couldn’t understand the words her colleague was speaking. Couldn’t put any together in return. That would have required far more thought than she was capable of. All she could do was follow Alice, her eyes glued to the shorter girl’s back. And fight the urge to take her clothes off.

Because Alice didn’t want her to take them off right now.

“No more thoughts,” Alice said once they were in the back seat of a car, Christine kneeling on the floor. If Christine had been sufficiently aware she might have realised how expensive the car was, that it was a limousine. She didn’t realise that. Right then she barely knew her own name. After Alice’s words she didn’t even know that.

“Welcome back,” Alice grinned.

Christine looked around. She didn’t know where she was. Didn’t remember getting there. She’d been in a car and…

Nothing.

Hadn’t she been at work? She could just remember Alice saying something about leaving, not coming back. It seemed so long ago.

That couldn’t be right. Christine had to go back to where she worked. Where she…

Christine couldn’t remember what she did there. Couldn’t even remember what her work was called.

Or where it was.

Panic rose in the blonde. She should remember where she worked. What she did. That was important. Her tongue flicked over her lips, words struggling to escape.

“Shush,” she heard Alice say. “Don’t worry about it. There are some things you don’t need to remember. This place is what’s important to you. You’re a smart girl. You’ll work it out.”

Christine’s emotions calmed, a smile forming on her lips. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t remember where she used to work. It wasn’t important. Here was important.

The only thing that was important.

But if this place was so important then she should probably try to work out where she was.

The pair were standing somewhere that almost looked like the wings of a stage. Cautiously Christine peered around the edge of the curtains. It looked like she was in some sort of club. There was a bar over to one side of the room, chairs and tables scattered around. But it didn’t look like any sort of club Christine had ever been in. There were more stages than the one she was on. The others were smaller, little better than raised podiums, some of the chairs and tables arranged around them. And on each of the podiums was a pole.

There was a pole on the main stage as well, bright and metallic.

Oh.

“I said you were smart,” Alice sniggered.

How does she know what I’m thinking?

The fog that had been in Christine’s mind was almost gone now. But in its wake were holes. Parts of her memories, parts of her, simply gone.

The parts that weren’t important.

It was Christine’s voice. In her head. She trusted that voice. Believed it. If the voice said that the parts of her that were missing weren’t important then she was happy to believe that. But she wasn’t sure that it really was her voice.

“Definitely smart,” Alice mused.

How Alice knew to say that wasn’t important either. What was important were the stages. What they meant. What Christine could do on them.

“Do you want it?” Alice asked.

Christine blinked. It was a genuine question. She could say no. She could walk away. Somehow she knew that Alice would let her.

Or she could stay. She could walk out on that stage. Do what she wanted to do. Undo the buttons on her blouse. The zipper on her skirt. Feel the bliss as the fabric slipped over her skin, revealing her.

Her breath caught in her throat. How could she say yes? Christine knew what it would mean to say yes. What it would mean she had become. She couldn’t do that.

She could imagine her skirt slipping down her legs, the electric fire that would pour through her.

She wanted it.

She could be in her underwear.

She needed it.

She could be in less than that.

It was what she craved.

It didn’t matter what she thought was right. What it would cost her. Her body was quivering with need, her mind on fire. She had to do this, couldn’t bear the thought of not doing it.

Part of her wanted to turn away. Somehow she knew that if she walked away she’d regain what she’d lost, those memories, those holes in her mind. But she couldn’t. Even for that, she couldn’t. The idea of being on that stage, taking her clothes off, was too much for her to resist. The idea was taking over her mind, pushing out everything else, the desire singing through her. There was nothing else. Just the need, hot and demanding and alive. She was so small beside it. So weak.

“Well?” Alice asked. “Do you want to?”

“Yes,” Christine breathed. She couldn’t have said anything else.

“Go on,” Alice gently encouraged her.

Nervously Christine took one step onto the main stage, then another. She wanted to do this, reluctance was the furthest thing from her mind. Her anxiety sprang from how much she wanted it.

With each step her awareness grew, the last little pieces of the fog drifting away. Christine realised that she and Alice weren’t alone in the club. People lined the bar, lounged in the seats. The place was packed. She didn’t know how she’d missed that when she’d first looked out.

It didn’t matter.

“This is what you want,” Alice called from the wings, just audible over the noise of the club.

It was true, need boiling deep inside Christine. She knew what she could do on that stage, her skin aching to be free.

She took another step.

Christine realised that she wasn’t wearing her office outfit. Oh, she had on a skirt and a blouse. But the white blouse was so tight across her chest it almost hurt and the dark blue skirt was so short she couldn’t have bent over without flashing everyone. She had five inch high heels and glasses without any lenses.

She didn’t know when she’d changed clothes.

Somehow she knew how to walk in those shoes. It was there, in her mind. Filling one of the holes left by what was gone. She could imagine those holes being filled. Like a dozen cocks thrusting into her mind. Like a dozen tongues exploring her pussy. Like a million eyes on her naked skin.

She almost came at that last thought.

A voice crackled over a PA system. “And for her first time at the Playhouse, please welcome Crystal.”

For a moment Christine wondered who Chrystal was, her eyes flicking to the other stages. There were girls dancing on some of them but she realised that none of them were Chrystal. That’s me, silly. Her stage name was Crystal.

Something else to fill one of the holes in her mind.

And of course she wouldn’t use her real name. Not when was about to, to. Christine’s breath caught in her throat. She drank in the stage, the pole, the lights, the calls and shouts of the crowd.

Oh god, I can’t.

Alone at home, in the small room with the desk in front of her, even what she’d done with Greg, that was different. It had been so good. But even in the office it had been only one person at a time. Hidden away. Secret. Here there were so many men, so many eyes on her.

She’d have no secrets.

Electric bliss shot through Christine. She hardly dared believe that it was true. She was on this stage. She was going to take her clothes off.

Expose herself.

Her pussy burnt, melting and slippery with need.

Like her mind.

Christine covered the last few steps to the pole in a rush, lazily swung around it, letting one long leg stretch out.

How do I know what to do?

That was a silly question. Of course she knew what to do. The knowledge filled yet another hole in her mind.

But I’ve never done this before.

Even as the thought formed, as Christine danced across the stage, as she teased the hem of her skirt higher, as she felt those eyes on her, she knew that wasn’t right. Her mind flashed back, to earlier that day.

Yes, it is the same day. She knew that, even though there were hours gone that she’d never get back. Standing in the wings Alice had been wearing the same skirt suit, from the workplace Christine could barely remember.

Christine had already danced on this stage, in front of Alice and the owner of the club. So desperate. So eager to please. And somehow she’d known what to do. Teasing as she revealed herself, every garment removed a seduction, her need and arousal building as each one dropped to the stage. Until she was revealed. Naked. Exposed. Wanting to cum, needing to cum. So close.

And with every garment Christine had removed a hole had formed in her mind. Something gone, lost, memories, feelings, inhibitions. So lost that Christine wasn’t sure what they’d been. She was having to guess from the shapes left behind. So many holes in her mind. Maybe more holes than she had clothes. Pieces missing. Holes to be filled. Christine liked that idea. Some of them were already filled. With how to move on this stage. How to bend and twist her body, teasing. Knowing what the audience wanted.

But not all the holes were filled. Christine wondered what would go in to them.

She didn’t spend much time on it. It wasn’t important. What was important was taking off her clothes and cumming. How blissful that made her feel.

She hadn’t cum at all that day. Not that afternoon on the stage. Not at work, in the room, with Alice.

She couldn’t remember what the room looked like, something else gone from her mind.

That didn’t matter. What mattered was that she wasn’t naked. Yet. Need flared through her, hot and demanding.

Christine knew what to do. She undid the top button of her blouse before leaning right over, letting the crowd see straight down her cleavage, flinging her head so the ponytail her long blonde hair was held in whipped around and around.

The knowledge was there just when she needed it, seeping into her, seeping into her head.

Into the gaps were other things used to be. Useless things, gone and forgotten, like where she used to work and what she did there and so much more. She’d worked in an office, she could vaguely remember that. She must have had years of education to get there. That was gone now. Its absence had left some of the holes in her mind. You didn’t need a degree to know how to take your clothes off.

Even in the way Christine knew how to remove them.

Christine was pulling the sides of her blouse apart, her skin on fire as she teased and tempted. She could feel the eyes of the crowd on her, urging her on. She wanted to show them everything. Wanted to rip her clothes from her body.

But that wasn’t what she was meant to do. And the wait was turning her on harder and harder, her centre wet and hot and slippery and oh so needy. The eyes of the crowd teased at her, like a skilled lover playing her body, like a hundred delicate fingers.

Christine knew how to hold those eyes. She didn’t care what she’d lost to make room for those skills. Anything was worth this, her mind fogging with bliss.

She ran her hands down one leg, slowly, then back up, oohs and aahs urging her on as her hands drew her skirt up just far enough to show what lay underneath, the thought of the crowd drinking in her naked thigh made her eyelids flutter in need.

And she did need this. She couldn’t live without it. She couldn’t help herself, the urge was too strong. To expose herself, let them see her. She couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t want to.

Christine had no idea why she’d want to do anything but this.

She teased the skirt higher, bliss flooding through as the material slipped across her skin, exposing more of her. The crowd could see her panties, nothing more than a g-string. They could see so much of her body now. Could they guess that underneath that little piece of cloth she was totally denuded? Christine hoped so.

She could remember how her centre had got that way. She could remember Lisa. Those memories were still there.

And the knowledge of what Lisa would do to her every time Christine went back to the clinic. Both with the laser and with her tongue.

Christine quivered deliciously at the thought.

Her blouse was gone now, a moan escaping her lips as it fluttered to the floor, her bra-encased breasts displayed for all to see. Christine wondered if the audience could see the flush suffusing her cheeks. A flush she was sure was spreading down to her chest. She needed to show them her chest. Her tits, her boobs. She didn’t care. Whatever her audience wanted to call them was fine by her. She wanted to show them everything. She was just there for them to look at, the thought almost enough to make her cum.

But she had to show herself properly. It was the difference between an adolescent fumble and what a gifted lover could give her. You might cum the first way, but the second was so much better. Christine knew that she could just rip her clothes off and cum. But what she was doing was seduction. Letting those eyes see her. Piece by piece. Giving herself to them. Letting them have her. All of her. She knew how to do it.

Christine didn’t even remember what she’d lost now.

All that mattered was that she could be exposed in front of so many people.

She knew what that meant. Up on stage, taking her clothes off. She was stripping. She was a stripper. A hot, needy, stripper. And that was right. It was what she was supposed to do. Strippers got to expose themselves. It was what she wanted. So what else would she be? Why had she wasted so long pretending that she could be anything else?

Maybe it was what she’d always wanted to be, any other ambitions lost in another hole in her mind.

Her skirt was next, the zipper slowly lowered, down and then a little back up, in time with music, thrusting her left hip at her audience. She was smiling, seductive, teasing. She loved this. It was all she wanted.

Christine threw her head back as she let the skirt slip to the stage. Moaned. Not because of the cries of appreciation. But because it meant they could see so much of her. Because of how it had felt sliding down her legs.

The audience’s eyes were like kisses on her skin, burning through her. Was there a damp patch on her panties? She was so wet, so needy. She wanted this. Her arousal had to be visible.

She approached the edge of the stage, every step a strut, her movements designed to draw the eye to her body.

Keep those eyes right where she wanted them.

Slowly she undid her ponytail, shook her head, felt her breasts jiggle where they still lay in her bra.

Christine leaned over, her body quivering as she felt bills thrust into her bra and panties. One of them tickled just above her clit, the feel of it brushing over her denuded skin almost enough to set her off.

But she wasn’t finished yet.

She spun away from the crowd, danced over to one of the poles, tossed her head back as she thrust her body against the rigid metal, slid down, knees bending, her calves so stretched in her high heels. She ground her centre into the pole, liquid arousal coursing through her. She was so exposed, so many eyes on her, she could hardly breathe, her back arching.

Christine stood, smiled seductively out into the crowd, her hand reaching for the clasp on her bra. Slowly lowered the garment, let the edges of her areola slip into view. The money that had been thrust into the cups fluttered to the stage. It didn’t matter. She could pick it up later. Somehow she knew that too. It was hers. For what she’d done. For what she was doing. For what she would do.

Payment for what she loved doing. What she’d always wanted to do. What could be better?

They could see her breasts now. Their gaze was like kisses on her naked flesh. They had to be able to see how erect her nipples were. Could they see how flushed her tits were? Her breasts were hot and aching and she was so close, so many eyes on her, her hips thrusting back and forth, her need a living thing.

Christine strutted back to the pole, wrapped herself around it, slid down, the bar pressing between her breasts, her centre grinding against the metal through the thin fabric of her panties. Then up, and down again, the shouts of the crowd making her head spin, heat spilling through her as she knew they were watching her.

Her hand flew to her panties. She could take them down, show the crowd everything.

Be totally exposed.

Christine stepped back from the pole. Her fingers brushed over the front of her panties, sparks shooting from her touch. She could touch herself on stage. It was the only way she ever would. When someone was watching her. When they wanted her to do it.

Christine knew that she’d never masturbate in private again.

It was another thing that took the place of something she’d lost.

She knew that every eye in the place was on her now. Seeing her. Drinking her in. She was so exposed. Her naked breasts, her thighs. All she had on was the g-string and her high heels. They covered so little. It was so good, raw arousal blurring her vision, her centre clenching in need, her breasts aching. Her fingers pressed over her centre, that bill slipping a little lower to brush her clit.

She knew what she had to do.

She hooked her thumbs in the elastic of the g-string, edging it down in time with the music, slowly, teasing, the calls of the crowd urging her on.

Christine’s lips fluttered as the last pieces of her came into view. Her most private places. She was giving them to the crowd. Giving herself to them. Letting them see her. She couldn’t hold back, didn’t want. It was everything she wanted.

Easing the elastic over her hips she let the skimpy garment sink to the floor.

Christine came, stars exploding in front of her eyes, her hips gyrating back and forth. She was naked, in front of so many people.

Exposed.

But Christine knew what she had to do, even as the aftershocks crashed over her. She picked up the money strewn over the stage. Picked up her discarded clothes.

And headed off the stage.

“You’re a natural,” Alice smiled, laughter dancing in the shorter girl’s eyes. “Now come on. We need to get you cleaned up. You’ve got a private show to give.”

It didn’t matter to Christine that soon she’d be putting her clothes back on. That just meant that she’d be able to take them off again. And again. So many times. This was her future now. It was what she wanted. What she needed. To take them off. To be naked.

Exposed.

The thought was almost enough to have her cumming again.

Almost.

She needed to be naked and exposed for someone before she could cum.

It was alright. Christine knew she’d cum again soon.