Rachels Cocktail Party
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Rachel's Dare - Part 4 free porn video
The music cut through the red-tinged light of the strip club, sending a shiver down my spine as we both entered. The man at the door - topless and in tight pants - had talked to Rachel for a short while, before gesturing at a tall, blonde woman who stood behind the bar. The woman was busy observing the rowdy patrons of "For Her Eyes Only", keeping a keen eye on proceedings, and not bothering to look in our direction.
All the way over from the sports bar, I'd held on to the faint hope that the manager of the strip joint wouldn't be interested in Rachel's proposal. I was in decent shape and - as Rachel has said only a few days ago - I wasn't unattractive. I wasn't Chippendale's material though, and I certainly didn't have the moves that some of those male strippers would be able to pull off.
My nerves were pretty much shot as we'd arrived at our final destination, and Rachel had enquired as to where the manager was. I'd tried to smile at the doorman, who'd managed to take that in entirely the wrong way and had given me a playful slap on the ass.
Rachel had at least given me my normal clothes to wear on the walk over. I didn't know whether that was out of compassion, or to make the gulf between what I wore into the bar and what I'd end up wearing at the bar even more immense. Whatever the intention, I already felt naked even though I was still fully dressed.
The thought occurred to me that if this is what I felt like now, that the actual strip itself would be completely uncharted territory. I'd undressed in front of girlfriends before. Heck, I'd been naked in front of Rachel in a public park at 5:30am on Thursday morning. But that was somehow intimate, strangely private and gradual.
Now, I was going to have to dance in front of a horde of lusting women, all baying for me to take off my clothes. That, I reflected to myself, was the very definition of pressure.
I knew that I'd be only stripping down to a thong. Strangely, that still didn't overly help. I also knew that Rachel had one final dare after I'd stripped to the thong. It was optional she'd said, although the way she said it, I had to wonder at just how optional it would turn out to be. Not to mention, just how daring would she challenge me to be?
As I looked at Rachel, I realised my problem. The problem wasn't that I was physically trapped. I could turn and walk away at any time, in theory at least. The problem wasn't that I was emotionally blackmailed. Rachel, for all her teasing and banter, wouldn't release the naked pictures of my uncovered face, at least not widely. No, the real problem was Rachel. Rachel could make me do anything. This amazing, adventurous woman could convince me do everything. Not through physical force, but simply by being a force of nature. We weren't even sleeping together.
Bizarrely, I wondered if her now-gay husband, Dave, ever regretted separating from Rachel. It was unfair, I knew, to think that. It couldn't have been easy on him - finding out his true feelings, and finding out that his true feelings meant he could no longer emotionally commit to a crazy, zany, amazing wife.
I had to remind myself, the Rachel I now knew was born out of the crucible that was their amicable break-up. As I walked in to accept my fate, it occurred to me that I was here now because a man had discovered he was gay. In my frazzled state of mind, I couldn't be certain that this qualified as being ironic, but it certainly seemed like it deserved the title.
The strip club was already alive with women mingling about and occasionally calling out at a huge, strapping man who was gyrating, nearly naked, around a pole on the stage. A fireman's outfit had already been ripped off and left lying around, while the stripper went though his routine.
As my eyes grew accustomed to the light, I could tell there were several hens' parties in attendance tonight. Great, I thought, just my luck. I had thought maybe, just maybe, Sunday would be a slow night. I had no idea why I thought that might have been the case. Didn't these people have jobs to go to on Monday morning?
The music pumped through the speakers, creating an animalistic vibe that worked up the audience even more. As I stood, rooted to the spot, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Rachel was now in deep conversation with the blonde woman behind the bar. This was it, the moment of truth. I was confused to find myself conflicted on how I wanted their conversation to play out.
As I looked on, I saw Rachel point me out to the woman who seemed, even at this distance, to have a doubtful expression on her face. Sensing the tide was beginning to go against her, Rachel seemed to decide to bring out her trump card. Summoning her phone from her bag, I saw her tap away at the screen for a moment or two, before showing the blonde-haired manager something. The woman seemed to arch an eyebrow, and purse her lips in a thoughtful expression. I knew what Rachel was doing. My naked photos were clearly getting another outing.
Looking back at me, and then switching to the phone once again, the blonde manager seemed to reach a decision, and gave a few animated directions to Rachel, before ushering her away. My heart raced as I saw the satisfied expression on my friend's face. That could only mean one thing.
Tonight, I would strip.
*********
Claire handed me the policeman's hat to put on, and gave me a supportive look. After Rachel had returned, she quickly filled me in on what Rachel and Claire had agreed on. At least I wouldn't need to wait long. Claire, the manager, was happy to slot me in next, once the current dancer had finished his routine and whipped the crowd up into a frenzy. Rachel and Claire had discussed possible outfits, and both felt that I'd look pretty good in a policeman's outfit.
I was quickly escorted into the changing rooms, taken away from the strobe lights and estrogen-fuelled environment in the main bar, with only the sounds and suggestions of the women's encouragement still ringing in my ears.
The policeman's outfit was admittedly made for someone with perhaps a more chiseled physique than the one I currently boasted. However, I managed to slip on the trousers, belt, and shirt without anything looking too obviously out of place on me, and now I stood in front of the curtain to the main stage.
My heart was pounding away. Even with the music blaring away on the other side of the curtain, I could hear the blood pumping around my body, and every second now could be the second when the other man finished. The second when my turn started. I closed my eyes at that thought, and didn't really hear too much of what Claire was trying to tell me.
She was trying to give me some tips, at least that's what I thought. The thong that barely covered my crotch under the trousers felt like it was two sizes too small. I kept repeating the mantra: "I get to keep the thong on, I get to keep the thong on." Through it all though, the nagging doubt crept into the forefront of my mind - what is the final dare that Rachel will challenge me with?
As I stood, transfixed by the music and the moment, I was dimly aware that Claire was now tapping me on the shoulder. She was waving a piece of paper in my face, and as I tried to focus on it, she leant in and spoke directly into my ear.
"It's from your friend," she explained, "your friend said to only read it when you're down to the thong."
Claire paused, visibly checking me out at the point, and her facial expression seemed to suggest she was actually mildly impressed. Whether that was with my body, or the fact that I was seemingly going through with this, wasn't clear. I decided to go with "she's impressed by my body", and tried to pump up my self-confidence with every mad thought that I could grasp at.
The cheering by the stage seemed to intensify for a moment, and reach a crescendo of whooping and hollering, before the the curtain was suddenly pulled back. The man who'd gone out as a firefighter came back as a perfect, naked specimen of manhood. It was enough to make some feel inadequate in comparison. He winked at me as he went past, and Claire gave him the thumbs up too.
Through the curtain, I could see the smoky environment beyond. It seemed like the audience had doubled since we'd arrived - although that barely seemed to make sense. The women near the stage were in a partying mood, and some were even doing a little dancing by themselves. On either side of the stage, there was clearly a woman dressed in a slutty wedding dress, out with her friends on one last adventure before marriage. Two hens parties, both seeming to compete with each other as to who could be the most suggestive.
Claire seemed to be keeping an eagle-eyed on events, making sure that everyone had fun without getting completely out of control. As the previous music died down, she firmly took me by the hand, and lead me out on to the stage. Speaking of being completely out of control, I could already feel the embarrassment welling up, consuming me from this inside out.
As we arrived at the centre of the stage, Claire produced a microphone from out of thin air. With the well-practiced gestures of a born announcer, she briefly silenced her audience.
"Ladies!" she said, instantly holding the attention of her crowd, "We've got a first here at 'For Her Eyes Only' - a special event that has never happened on this stage before!"
She firmly lifted my arm up, as if announcing the winner of a boxing fight.
"We have here today, a man who has lost a bet!"
The crowd really did hush at that, and only a few whispers could be heard.
"A man who has lost a bet, and who must now, of course, pay the price. You see, ladies, this man thought he could win again a woman!"
The crowd laughed at that, and several women shook their head disbelievingly.
"So do you want to know what his penalty is?" Claire asked, pretty much rhetorically.
The unanimous decision from the audience was a very decisive "yes!"
"Well, tonight, this man will dance for you!" The crowd cheered at that. "Tonight, this man will strip for you!" The crowd hooted and hollered at that. "Tonight, this man will be reduced to only wearing a tiny thong... for... your... eyes only!"The crowd laughed at that, although more than a few women openly questioned the need for the thong to remain.
"It's now amateur night at 'For Her Eyes Only', so... let the embarrassment... begin!" Claire signed off with a flourish, and gave the gesture for the sound technician to start up an appropriate song. As she headed off the stage, Claire gave me a playful nudge, before grabbing a healthy amount of my ass in her grasp. Holding on for a few seconds, she gave me a good squeeze before finally retreating and leaving me alone. Alone on the stage, heart racing, head pounding, crowd baying.
As the music kicked in to action, my eyes zoned in on Rachel. She'd been given a prime position at a table right in front of the stage, and had a look on her face that spoke of her own conflicting emotions. Part of her was clearly looking forward to the show I was about to have to put on. As I stared at her though, I sensed something else going on in my friend's mine. A desire, not directly of me, perhaps, but more of the situation I was in. With a jolt, I realised that part of Rachel wanted to be the person made to strip down to her thong. Part of Rachel wanted to be the one completely pushed out of her comfort zone.
As I broke eye contact with her, part of me accepted the humiliation and the embarrassment on her behalf. Jerkily, and completely at odds with the music admittedly, I began to tug at the buttons on my shirt.
The blue police shirt twisted and moved on my body as I tried to throw in a few gyrations. I was almost glad that I was up here on stage rather than having to watch this from the cheap seats. I knew that my moves weren't quite the powerful thrusting motions that my predecessor had made.
However, as the third button came undone, and I pulled the material apart a little to reveal my chest, I realised that the crowd was amazingly into the entire thing. I didn't know whether they were feeding off the vulnerability that I could feel radiating from me, or whether it was just the variety that they loved. Either way, one of the hens parties broke into a raucous chant of "take it off, take it off."
With the music beginning to direct me, and the chant reverberating in my mind, the fourth and fifth buttons came off, and I then proceeded to rip the remaining buttons off, and flung the shirt wide open. My chest and abs finally revealed, the audience reacted with massive applause, and I saw Rachel give me a simple wink. I knew what the wink meant. In one small, simple gesture, my friend had said, Great start, nice body, good effort. Now, how about you hurry up and work on those trousers next?
I went over to a pole, and did what I hoped would come across as a few sexy dance moves, clumsily turning around and holding on to the pole as I shoved my ass towards the audience.
Even over the loud music, and my own insane thoughts, I heard more than one woman make suggestions on where those trousers really belonged. Turning back to face the women, I leaned against the pole, and ran a hand over my chest, before pushing it down the front of the trousers. At that provocation, one of the women in a wedding dress tried to stand up on her table, and throw her tiara at me, asking me to come and return it in person. Thankfully, one of her own party gently coaxed her down with a grin on her face.
Rachel's eyes never left my hand as I gently inserted it into the trousers, and used it to slowly, inch by agonising inch, undo the zip. There was also the small matter of the belt, and I was conscious too that the belt was home to a pair of handcuffs.
With the zip completely undone, I moved my hand up to the belt buckle. I knew that when the trousers came off, then the only thing protecting my manhood was the world's smallest thong. While I'd been caught up in the moment, taking off my shirt and my trousers, I also knew I was careening out of control towards the ultimate moment of truth.
Seeking to postpone that moment just a little longer, I undid the belt buckle, but then left the belt on. Instead, I reached for the handcuffs, and detached them from the belt. I walked around the stage, attempting a strut, but perhaps falling a little short of any impersonation of supreme confidence. As I walked around, I played with the handcuffs, twirling them around, and pulling at them, pretending that my hands were trapped in them.
As I passed several tables, I was mildly shocked at some of the suggestive comments that were being sent my way by seemingly respectable ladies. Finally arriving in front of Rachel, I played with the handcuffs for a few more moments, before then tossing them gently in her lap. She caught them effortlessly, without ever breaking eye contact with me.
Devoid of any toys now, I blinked a few times and realised that this was finally it. With a deep breath, and with no real sense of composure, I slowly slipped the belt out of the trousers, and then dropped it to the floor. The trousers, already unzipped, began to slide down past my hips, and the women got their first decent look at the thong that hardly covered my erection. The cheers intensified, and a few dollar bills all of sudden floated my way.
Partly to give them a show, but also partly to ensure I didn't have to look too hard at my audience, I spun around. Bending over, my ass facing the masses, I guided the trousers down to my ankles and half-stumbled, half-stepped out of the now-crumpled pants.
The cheers were now deafening, and I slowly stood straight again, feeling the stares of dozens of women burning into my backside. I'd been naked in front of Rachel a few mornings ago, but I'd never felt as exposed as I did now.
I didn't turn around immediately. In fact, my eyes were closed for several seconds, as I contemplated just running off the stage. Part of me could see Rachel however, even though I had my back to her. Part of me saw I woman I didn't want to disappoint. As I summoned the courage to turn around, I reached for my hat, and took it off my head. Placing it over my nearly-exposed crotch, I then accepted my fate and spun back to the front.
The ploy with the hat brought cries of friendly disapproval, and several women beckoned me to throw the hat to them. As the seconds passed by, and the chanting resumed, I knew this hat was only going to one person.
Walking over to where she sat, I stepped down off the stage. Her table was only a metre away. As I stood in front of her, I gave her a nervous smile and then, admittedly with great reluctance, removed the hat and placed it directly on her head.
The crowd erupted as I was left standing in my thong in front of them. As my cheeks reddened, and my ears burned, I was at least treated to a gorgeous smile from Rachel.
I returned to the stage, as I knew I had to, and stood stock still, naked except for a tiny black thong, on display for a host of women I didn't know.
It felt like minutes passed as the music continued. I didn't try and dance any more, I just stood and received the hoots, hollers and clapping that the women treated me to. I'd lost, and this was my penalty.
I sought out Rachel's eyes one more time, but as I found them, I realised that she was no longer looking at me. Slightly confused, I followed her gaze to where she was looking, and realised that she was staring at a piece of paper that had fallen out of my trousers. The paper that Claire had given me before the strip. The paper that had Rachel's final dare on it.
Holding my breath in fear, panic, and anticipation, I realised that Rachel was telling me that it was very definitely time for the final act.
I found I couldn't control my arms for moment, and struggled to bend down to where the paper rested. I did eventually manage it though, and on the second attempt was able to pick up the note. Straightening up, I delicately unfolded the note, and tried to focus my eyes on the writing. That was far easier said than done in the current environment, and in my current state of undress. As I blinked and peered, the words did begin jump out at me though. I felt like me heart skipped a beat and my mouth went completely dry as I finally got the gist of what was being said.
"Dear Peter," the note started, "good on you for stripping down to your thong. You can leave now, and we'll head back to the hotel. Sorry, Claire's keeping your clothes until tomorrow, so you'll have to walk back in just that thong..."
My eyes went wide at that, and I threw a panicked look at Rachel.
"However," the note continued, "should you feel like taking that thong off, and using the handcuffs, I'd be happy to give you my coat to wear..."
I closed my eyes and realised the enormity of what I was being asked to chose between. Be nearly naked for the entire walk back to the hotel, for the sake of preserving a shred of decency in this club; or be fully naked and restrained here, for the sake of some decency out on the streets.
Rachel had a raised eyebrow, and when I looked out again, I could tell she was trying to get a sense of what I would do.
Run, I half-thought to myself. That's what I could do. There was no running from Rachel though. I breathed in and out, blocking out the world around me, trying to calm myself into some semblance of control. With one final intake, I realised the choice I'd made.
Hesitantly, disbelievingly, I place my hands on the sides of the thong. Sensing what was about to happen, the crowd went wild with applause, and to a thunderous ovation, I dropped the thong to my ankles.
I was now nude. Naked. Exposed. Embarrassed. Aroused. Erect. And way, way, way out of my comfort zone.
Rachel herself was now applauding too, and had a strange smile on her face. She began to slowly stand out of her seat, and retrieved the handcuffs I'd given to her earlier. She gave a signal of some kind to Claire, and the manager was already on her way to the stage to join me.
I wasn't unhappy to see her. I was completely on display in front of a crowd of strangers, and having anyone else on that stage was some strange comfort. She quickly moved in and raised my arm up, as she had done before, a lifetime ago when I'd had clothes on.
"Ladies!" she cried, once again demonstrating the unerring ability to control a raucous crowd, "Ladies, let's give it up for our fantastic new performer!"
The audience erupted once again into applause and whistles, and appreciative comments.
Claire let the crowd go on for a few moments longer, before magically silencing them with a wave of her hand. "And now, Ladies," she continued, "now we have an additional treat. Our brave man here has accepted a final dare. A dare to be handcuffed to the pole for five minutes!"
I flashed back to the third penalty that I'd narrowly avoided on our walk together, all the way back on Thursday morning. I remembered the words Rachel had whispered in my ear. I'd almost lost it when she'd told me that she'd thoughtfully brought some handcuffs with her in the car, and asked if was I up for being restrained to the lamp post for, well, for a while.
She'd whispered about how she would place the key on a chain around my neck, and that she was totally confident that I'd find some nice woman that I could talk into letting me out of the handcuffs.
I visibly gulped at that memory, and at what she was asking of me now. Five minutes! Five minutes would feel like an eternity. I wondered if it was too late to pull the thong back on, but I knew there was no point in that. What was done was done.
Rachel joined us on the stage, and made a show of displaying the handcuffs for the women's approval. The approval was quickly forthcoming, and I found myself gently led over to the pole. I felt the situation spiraling out of control as my hands were guided to behind the pole, and the handcuffs quickly and expertly applied. Suddenly, within the space of seconds, I'd gone from standing in a thong in front of women, to now being pressed against a pole with my hands restrained behind me.
My fully erect penis was hard as it had ever been in my entire life. I was having fond memories of the thong now, and was beginning to seriously wonder if I might actually be able to stop myself from ejaculating in front of everyone.
"Oh God," I muttered to myself.
Rachel leant in and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. Then, as she stepped back, it was Claire's turn to face me. She had something in her hand, and as I forced myself to look at her, I realised that what she held was a blindfold. She was offering me a large, black blindfold.
I looked at it uncomprehendingly for a short while, before nodding my head in acceptance. Wordlessly, she placed the blindfold over my eyes, and secured it behind my head. I could feel the material covering nearly half of my head.
The world went dark, and now the only thing I could sense were the tumultuous sounds of the club, and the absolute certainty that everyone was looking straight at me.
"Ladies," I heard Claire called out, "now who wants a photo with our star of the hour?"
"OH GOD!" I thought.
*****
For the next five minutes, I stood helplessly by the pole, hands securely fastened behind me. I couldn't cover up, and my manhood was at the mercy of every woman in the building. On several occasions I could hear cameras being produced, and at least one woman came up to me and draped her arms around my shoulders. I even half-imagined the faintest breeze on my cock at one point, and wondered if someone was kneeling down, pretending to give me a blow job while someone else took a photo.
I sensed that Claire was hovering by me, making sure that things didn't go too far, but even so I knew that the photos of me in the park would now have some company on the internet before the night was out.
For five full minutes I was the sole exhibit on the stage, and I felt people posing around me as the cameras whirred away. Nobody disturbed the sanctity of my blindfold, and for that at least I was grateful.
After what seemed like an hour, I suddenly felt a small bit of pressure of my wrists, followed by the sound and sensation of the handcuffs being removed. I rubbed my wrists briefly, and then started to remove the blindfold. I stopped though, as it occurred to me that cameras might still be on hand.
"Is it safe?" I asked, not sure of who was around to answer.
"Yes," said a voice in my ear, "it's safe." The voice was Rachel's and had a deep warmth to it, "You did well. Very, very well."
I removed the blindfold and looked at her.
"Hotel?" I said simply.
"Hotel," she replied, with equal simplicity.
I looked around the stage, but couldn't immediately see the thong. Noticing that I was obviously looking for the tiny underwear, she gave a quick laugh.
"Oh, don't worry about that," she said, with a sparkle in her eyes, "You can have my coat. You've clearly earned it. Anyway, I can walk back in what I've got underneath."
I looked at Rachel gratefully, and waited for her to remove the coat. She stepped back from me. Reminiscent of a trip in the lift that we'd taken only two days earlier, she started to slowly tease back both sides of the coat, pulling one side apart, before closing it and opening the other side.
As I focused my eyes, I was stunned to realise what Rachel had done. While I'd been handcuffed and blindfolded, it seemed Rachel had paid another one of her famous trips to the ladies room. Underneath the coat, clinging seductively to her body and accentuating all of her curves, was the sexy wonder woman outfit that I bought for her.
I couldn't speak. My mouth opened but I could form no words. She simply looked amazing. An ample amount of skin was on show, and even though her breasts and crotch were covered, her appearance would fire up the imaginations of every man who saw her.
She handed me the coat. I didn't react for a moment, so she pressed the coat into my unresisting hands while I dumbly stood there, still naked, and no longer aware of my surroundings.
Rachel laughed, and as I slowly returned to my senses, I couldn't help but laugh with her.
She gave me an almost shy smile, and a small twirl. Biting her lip, she seemed to want me to say something.
Summoning the full weight of my extensive University education and vocabulary, I was able to string together three words in a semi-coherent sentence. "You... look... wonderful!" I managed.
Rachel laughed again.
"Well then," she said, a thrill evident on her face, and a sense of daring in her voice, "Guess it's time we go for another walk then."
[To be continued in Rachel's Dare - Part 5 - in late May 2015.]
All the way over from the sports bar, I'd held on to the faint hope that the manager of the strip joint wouldn't be interested in Rachel's proposal. I was in decent shape and - as Rachel has said only a few days ago - I wasn't unattractive. I wasn't Chippendale's material though, and I certainly didn't have the moves that some of those male strippers would be able to pull off.
My nerves were pretty much shot as we'd arrived at our final destination, and Rachel had enquired as to where the manager was. I'd tried to smile at the doorman, who'd managed to take that in entirely the wrong way and had given me a playful slap on the ass.
Rachel had at least given me my normal clothes to wear on the walk over. I didn't know whether that was out of compassion, or to make the gulf between what I wore into the bar and what I'd end up wearing at the bar even more immense. Whatever the intention, I already felt naked even though I was still fully dressed.
The thought occurred to me that if this is what I felt like now, that the actual strip itself would be completely uncharted territory. I'd undressed in front of girlfriends before. Heck, I'd been naked in front of Rachel in a public park at 5:30am on Thursday morning. But that was somehow intimate, strangely private and gradual.
Now, I was going to have to dance in front of a horde of lusting women, all baying for me to take off my clothes. That, I reflected to myself, was the very definition of pressure.
I knew that I'd be only stripping down to a thong. Strangely, that still didn't overly help. I also knew that Rachel had one final dare after I'd stripped to the thong. It was optional she'd said, although the way she said it, I had to wonder at just how optional it would turn out to be. Not to mention, just how daring would she challenge me to be?
As I looked at Rachel, I realised my problem. The problem wasn't that I was physically trapped. I could turn and walk away at any time, in theory at least. The problem wasn't that I was emotionally blackmailed. Rachel, for all her teasing and banter, wouldn't release the naked pictures of my uncovered face, at least not widely. No, the real problem was Rachel. Rachel could make me do anything. This amazing, adventurous woman could convince me do everything. Not through physical force, but simply by being a force of nature. We weren't even sleeping together.
Bizarrely, I wondered if her now-gay husband, Dave, ever regretted separating from Rachel. It was unfair, I knew, to think that. It couldn't have been easy on him - finding out his true feelings, and finding out that his true feelings meant he could no longer emotionally commit to a crazy, zany, amazing wife.
I had to remind myself, the Rachel I now knew was born out of the crucible that was their amicable break-up. As I walked in to accept my fate, it occurred to me that I was here now because a man had discovered he was gay. In my frazzled state of mind, I couldn't be certain that this qualified as being ironic, but it certainly seemed like it deserved the title.
The strip club was already alive with women mingling about and occasionally calling out at a huge, strapping man who was gyrating, nearly naked, around a pole on the stage. A fireman's outfit had already been ripped off and left lying around, while the stripper went though his routine.
As my eyes grew accustomed to the light, I could tell there were several hens' parties in attendance tonight. Great, I thought, just my luck. I had thought maybe, just maybe, Sunday would be a slow night. I had no idea why I thought that might have been the case. Didn't these people have jobs to go to on Monday morning?
The music pumped through the speakers, creating an animalistic vibe that worked up the audience even more. As I stood, rooted to the spot, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Rachel was now in deep conversation with the blonde woman behind the bar. This was it, the moment of truth. I was confused to find myself conflicted on how I wanted their conversation to play out.
As I looked on, I saw Rachel point me out to the woman who seemed, even at this distance, to have a doubtful expression on her face. Sensing the tide was beginning to go against her, Rachel seemed to decide to bring out her trump card. Summoning her phone from her bag, I saw her tap away at the screen for a moment or two, before showing the blonde-haired manager something. The woman seemed to arch an eyebrow, and purse her lips in a thoughtful expression. I knew what Rachel was doing. My naked photos were clearly getting another outing.
Looking back at me, and then switching to the phone once again, the blonde manager seemed to reach a decision, and gave a few animated directions to Rachel, before ushering her away. My heart raced as I saw the satisfied expression on my friend's face. That could only mean one thing.
Tonight, I would strip.
*********
Claire handed me the policeman's hat to put on, and gave me a supportive look. After Rachel had returned, she quickly filled me in on what Rachel and Claire had agreed on. At least I wouldn't need to wait long. Claire, the manager, was happy to slot me in next, once the current dancer had finished his routine and whipped the crowd up into a frenzy. Rachel and Claire had discussed possible outfits, and both felt that I'd look pretty good in a policeman's outfit.
I was quickly escorted into the changing rooms, taken away from the strobe lights and estrogen-fuelled environment in the main bar, with only the sounds and suggestions of the women's encouragement still ringing in my ears.
The policeman's outfit was admittedly made for someone with perhaps a more chiseled physique than the one I currently boasted. However, I managed to slip on the trousers, belt, and shirt without anything looking too obviously out of place on me, and now I stood in front of the curtain to the main stage.
My heart was pounding away. Even with the music blaring away on the other side of the curtain, I could hear the blood pumping around my body, and every second now could be the second when the other man finished. The second when my turn started. I closed my eyes at that thought, and didn't really hear too much of what Claire was trying to tell me.
She was trying to give me some tips, at least that's what I thought. The thong that barely covered my crotch under the trousers felt like it was two sizes too small. I kept repeating the mantra: "I get to keep the thong on, I get to keep the thong on." Through it all though, the nagging doubt crept into the forefront of my mind - what is the final dare that Rachel will challenge me with?
As I stood, transfixed by the music and the moment, I was dimly aware that Claire was now tapping me on the shoulder. She was waving a piece of paper in my face, and as I tried to focus on it, she leant in and spoke directly into my ear.
"It's from your friend," she explained, "your friend said to only read it when you're down to the thong."
Claire paused, visibly checking me out at the point, and her facial expression seemed to suggest she was actually mildly impressed. Whether that was with my body, or the fact that I was seemingly going through with this, wasn't clear. I decided to go with "she's impressed by my body", and tried to pump up my self-confidence with every mad thought that I could grasp at.
The cheering by the stage seemed to intensify for a moment, and reach a crescendo of whooping and hollering, before the the curtain was suddenly pulled back. The man who'd gone out as a firefighter came back as a perfect, naked specimen of manhood. It was enough to make some feel inadequate in comparison. He winked at me as he went past, and Claire gave him the thumbs up too.
Through the curtain, I could see the smoky environment beyond. It seemed like the audience had doubled since we'd arrived - although that barely seemed to make sense. The women near the stage were in a partying mood, and some were even doing a little dancing by themselves. On either side of the stage, there was clearly a woman dressed in a slutty wedding dress, out with her friends on one last adventure before marriage. Two hens parties, both seeming to compete with each other as to who could be the most suggestive.
Claire seemed to be keeping an eagle-eyed on events, making sure that everyone had fun without getting completely out of control. As the previous music died down, she firmly took me by the hand, and lead me out on to the stage. Speaking of being completely out of control, I could already feel the embarrassment welling up, consuming me from this inside out.
As we arrived at the centre of the stage, Claire produced a microphone from out of thin air. With the well-practiced gestures of a born announcer, she briefly silenced her audience.
"Ladies!" she said, instantly holding the attention of her crowd, "We've got a first here at 'For Her Eyes Only' - a special event that has never happened on this stage before!"
She firmly lifted my arm up, as if announcing the winner of a boxing fight.
"We have here today, a man who has lost a bet!"
The crowd really did hush at that, and only a few whispers could be heard.
"A man who has lost a bet, and who must now, of course, pay the price. You see, ladies, this man thought he could win again a woman!"
The crowd laughed at that, and several women shook their head disbelievingly.
"So do you want to know what his penalty is?" Claire asked, pretty much rhetorically.
The unanimous decision from the audience was a very decisive "yes!"
"Well, tonight, this man will dance for you!" The crowd cheered at that. "Tonight, this man will strip for you!" The crowd hooted and hollered at that. "Tonight, this man will be reduced to only wearing a tiny thong... for... your... eyes only!"The crowd laughed at that, although more than a few women openly questioned the need for the thong to remain.
"It's now amateur night at 'For Her Eyes Only', so... let the embarrassment... begin!" Claire signed off with a flourish, and gave the gesture for the sound technician to start up an appropriate song. As she headed off the stage, Claire gave me a playful nudge, before grabbing a healthy amount of my ass in her grasp. Holding on for a few seconds, she gave me a good squeeze before finally retreating and leaving me alone. Alone on the stage, heart racing, head pounding, crowd baying.
As the music kicked in to action, my eyes zoned in on Rachel. She'd been given a prime position at a table right in front of the stage, and had a look on her face that spoke of her own conflicting emotions. Part of her was clearly looking forward to the show I was about to have to put on. As I stared at her though, I sensed something else going on in my friend's mine. A desire, not directly of me, perhaps, but more of the situation I was in. With a jolt, I realised that part of Rachel wanted to be the person made to strip down to her thong. Part of Rachel wanted to be the one completely pushed out of her comfort zone.
As I broke eye contact with her, part of me accepted the humiliation and the embarrassment on her behalf. Jerkily, and completely at odds with the music admittedly, I began to tug at the buttons on my shirt.
The blue police shirt twisted and moved on my body as I tried to throw in a few gyrations. I was almost glad that I was up here on stage rather than having to watch this from the cheap seats. I knew that my moves weren't quite the powerful thrusting motions that my predecessor had made.
However, as the third button came undone, and I pulled the material apart a little to reveal my chest, I realised that the crowd was amazingly into the entire thing. I didn't know whether they were feeding off the vulnerability that I could feel radiating from me, or whether it was just the variety that they loved. Either way, one of the hens parties broke into a raucous chant of "take it off, take it off."
With the music beginning to direct me, and the chant reverberating in my mind, the fourth and fifth buttons came off, and I then proceeded to rip the remaining buttons off, and flung the shirt wide open. My chest and abs finally revealed, the audience reacted with massive applause, and I saw Rachel give me a simple wink. I knew what the wink meant. In one small, simple gesture, my friend had said, Great start, nice body, good effort. Now, how about you hurry up and work on those trousers next?
I went over to a pole, and did what I hoped would come across as a few sexy dance moves, clumsily turning around and holding on to the pole as I shoved my ass towards the audience.
Even over the loud music, and my own insane thoughts, I heard more than one woman make suggestions on where those trousers really belonged. Turning back to face the women, I leaned against the pole, and ran a hand over my chest, before pushing it down the front of the trousers. At that provocation, one of the women in a wedding dress tried to stand up on her table, and throw her tiara at me, asking me to come and return it in person. Thankfully, one of her own party gently coaxed her down with a grin on her face.
Rachel's eyes never left my hand as I gently inserted it into the trousers, and used it to slowly, inch by agonising inch, undo the zip. There was also the small matter of the belt, and I was conscious too that the belt was home to a pair of handcuffs.
With the zip completely undone, I moved my hand up to the belt buckle. I knew that when the trousers came off, then the only thing protecting my manhood was the world's smallest thong. While I'd been caught up in the moment, taking off my shirt and my trousers, I also knew I was careening out of control towards the ultimate moment of truth.
Seeking to postpone that moment just a little longer, I undid the belt buckle, but then left the belt on. Instead, I reached for the handcuffs, and detached them from the belt. I walked around the stage, attempting a strut, but perhaps falling a little short of any impersonation of supreme confidence. As I walked around, I played with the handcuffs, twirling them around, and pulling at them, pretending that my hands were trapped in them.
As I passed several tables, I was mildly shocked at some of the suggestive comments that were being sent my way by seemingly respectable ladies. Finally arriving in front of Rachel, I played with the handcuffs for a few more moments, before then tossing them gently in her lap. She caught them effortlessly, without ever breaking eye contact with me.
Devoid of any toys now, I blinked a few times and realised that this was finally it. With a deep breath, and with no real sense of composure, I slowly slipped the belt out of the trousers, and then dropped it to the floor. The trousers, already unzipped, began to slide down past my hips, and the women got their first decent look at the thong that hardly covered my erection. The cheers intensified, and a few dollar bills all of sudden floated my way.
Partly to give them a show, but also partly to ensure I didn't have to look too hard at my audience, I spun around. Bending over, my ass facing the masses, I guided the trousers down to my ankles and half-stumbled, half-stepped out of the now-crumpled pants.
The cheers were now deafening, and I slowly stood straight again, feeling the stares of dozens of women burning into my backside. I'd been naked in front of Rachel a few mornings ago, but I'd never felt as exposed as I did now.
I didn't turn around immediately. In fact, my eyes were closed for several seconds, as I contemplated just running off the stage. Part of me could see Rachel however, even though I had my back to her. Part of me saw I woman I didn't want to disappoint. As I summoned the courage to turn around, I reached for my hat, and took it off my head. Placing it over my nearly-exposed crotch, I then accepted my fate and spun back to the front.
The ploy with the hat brought cries of friendly disapproval, and several women beckoned me to throw the hat to them. As the seconds passed by, and the chanting resumed, I knew this hat was only going to one person.
Walking over to where she sat, I stepped down off the stage. Her table was only a metre away. As I stood in front of her, I gave her a nervous smile and then, admittedly with great reluctance, removed the hat and placed it directly on her head.
The crowd erupted as I was left standing in my thong in front of them. As my cheeks reddened, and my ears burned, I was at least treated to a gorgeous smile from Rachel.
I returned to the stage, as I knew I had to, and stood stock still, naked except for a tiny black thong, on display for a host of women I didn't know.
It felt like minutes passed as the music continued. I didn't try and dance any more, I just stood and received the hoots, hollers and clapping that the women treated me to. I'd lost, and this was my penalty.
I sought out Rachel's eyes one more time, but as I found them, I realised that she was no longer looking at me. Slightly confused, I followed her gaze to where she was looking, and realised that she was staring at a piece of paper that had fallen out of my trousers. The paper that Claire had given me before the strip. The paper that had Rachel's final dare on it.
Holding my breath in fear, panic, and anticipation, I realised that Rachel was telling me that it was very definitely time for the final act.
I found I couldn't control my arms for moment, and struggled to bend down to where the paper rested. I did eventually manage it though, and on the second attempt was able to pick up the note. Straightening up, I delicately unfolded the note, and tried to focus my eyes on the writing. That was far easier said than done in the current environment, and in my current state of undress. As I blinked and peered, the words did begin jump out at me though. I felt like me heart skipped a beat and my mouth went completely dry as I finally got the gist of what was being said.
"Dear Peter," the note started, "good on you for stripping down to your thong. You can leave now, and we'll head back to the hotel. Sorry, Claire's keeping your clothes until tomorrow, so you'll have to walk back in just that thong..."
My eyes went wide at that, and I threw a panicked look at Rachel.
"However," the note continued, "should you feel like taking that thong off, and using the handcuffs, I'd be happy to give you my coat to wear..."
I closed my eyes and realised the enormity of what I was being asked to chose between. Be nearly naked for the entire walk back to the hotel, for the sake of preserving a shred of decency in this club; or be fully naked and restrained here, for the sake of some decency out on the streets.
Rachel had a raised eyebrow, and when I looked out again, I could tell she was trying to get a sense of what I would do.
Run, I half-thought to myself. That's what I could do. There was no running from Rachel though. I breathed in and out, blocking out the world around me, trying to calm myself into some semblance of control. With one final intake, I realised the choice I'd made.
Hesitantly, disbelievingly, I place my hands on the sides of the thong. Sensing what was about to happen, the crowd went wild with applause, and to a thunderous ovation, I dropped the thong to my ankles.
I was now nude. Naked. Exposed. Embarrassed. Aroused. Erect. And way, way, way out of my comfort zone.
Rachel herself was now applauding too, and had a strange smile on her face. She began to slowly stand out of her seat, and retrieved the handcuffs I'd given to her earlier. She gave a signal of some kind to Claire, and the manager was already on her way to the stage to join me.
I wasn't unhappy to see her. I was completely on display in front of a crowd of strangers, and having anyone else on that stage was some strange comfort. She quickly moved in and raised my arm up, as she had done before, a lifetime ago when I'd had clothes on.
"Ladies!" she cried, once again demonstrating the unerring ability to control a raucous crowd, "Ladies, let's give it up for our fantastic new performer!"
The audience erupted once again into applause and whistles, and appreciative comments.
Claire let the crowd go on for a few moments longer, before magically silencing them with a wave of her hand. "And now, Ladies," she continued, "now we have an additional treat. Our brave man here has accepted a final dare. A dare to be handcuffed to the pole for five minutes!"
I flashed back to the third penalty that I'd narrowly avoided on our walk together, all the way back on Thursday morning. I remembered the words Rachel had whispered in my ear. I'd almost lost it when she'd told me that she'd thoughtfully brought some handcuffs with her in the car, and asked if was I up for being restrained to the lamp post for, well, for a while.
She'd whispered about how she would place the key on a chain around my neck, and that she was totally confident that I'd find some nice woman that I could talk into letting me out of the handcuffs.
I visibly gulped at that memory, and at what she was asking of me now. Five minutes! Five minutes would feel like an eternity. I wondered if it was too late to pull the thong back on, but I knew there was no point in that. What was done was done.
Rachel joined us on the stage, and made a show of displaying the handcuffs for the women's approval. The approval was quickly forthcoming, and I found myself gently led over to the pole. I felt the situation spiraling out of control as my hands were guided to behind the pole, and the handcuffs quickly and expertly applied. Suddenly, within the space of seconds, I'd gone from standing in a thong in front of women, to now being pressed against a pole with my hands restrained behind me.
My fully erect penis was hard as it had ever been in my entire life. I was having fond memories of the thong now, and was beginning to seriously wonder if I might actually be able to stop myself from ejaculating in front of everyone.
"Oh God," I muttered to myself.
Rachel leant in and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. Then, as she stepped back, it was Claire's turn to face me. She had something in her hand, and as I forced myself to look at her, I realised that what she held was a blindfold. She was offering me a large, black blindfold.
I looked at it uncomprehendingly for a short while, before nodding my head in acceptance. Wordlessly, she placed the blindfold over my eyes, and secured it behind my head. I could feel the material covering nearly half of my head.
The world went dark, and now the only thing I could sense were the tumultuous sounds of the club, and the absolute certainty that everyone was looking straight at me.
"Ladies," I heard Claire called out, "now who wants a photo with our star of the hour?"
"OH GOD!" I thought.
*****
For the next five minutes, I stood helplessly by the pole, hands securely fastened behind me. I couldn't cover up, and my manhood was at the mercy of every woman in the building. On several occasions I could hear cameras being produced, and at least one woman came up to me and draped her arms around my shoulders. I even half-imagined the faintest breeze on my cock at one point, and wondered if someone was kneeling down, pretending to give me a blow job while someone else took a photo.
I sensed that Claire was hovering by me, making sure that things didn't go too far, but even so I knew that the photos of me in the park would now have some company on the internet before the night was out.
For five full minutes I was the sole exhibit on the stage, and I felt people posing around me as the cameras whirred away. Nobody disturbed the sanctity of my blindfold, and for that at least I was grateful.
After what seemed like an hour, I suddenly felt a small bit of pressure of my wrists, followed by the sound and sensation of the handcuffs being removed. I rubbed my wrists briefly, and then started to remove the blindfold. I stopped though, as it occurred to me that cameras might still be on hand.
"Is it safe?" I asked, not sure of who was around to answer.
"Yes," said a voice in my ear, "it's safe." The voice was Rachel's and had a deep warmth to it, "You did well. Very, very well."
I removed the blindfold and looked at her.
"Hotel?" I said simply.
"Hotel," she replied, with equal simplicity.
I looked around the stage, but couldn't immediately see the thong. Noticing that I was obviously looking for the tiny underwear, she gave a quick laugh.
"Oh, don't worry about that," she said, with a sparkle in her eyes, "You can have my coat. You've clearly earned it. Anyway, I can walk back in what I've got underneath."
I looked at Rachel gratefully, and waited for her to remove the coat. She stepped back from me. Reminiscent of a trip in the lift that we'd taken only two days earlier, she started to slowly tease back both sides of the coat, pulling one side apart, before closing it and opening the other side.
As I focused my eyes, I was stunned to realise what Rachel had done. While I'd been handcuffed and blindfolded, it seemed Rachel had paid another one of her famous trips to the ladies room. Underneath the coat, clinging seductively to her body and accentuating all of her curves, was the sexy wonder woman outfit that I bought for her.
I couldn't speak. My mouth opened but I could form no words. She simply looked amazing. An ample amount of skin was on show, and even though her breasts and crotch were covered, her appearance would fire up the imaginations of every man who saw her.
She handed me the coat. I didn't react for a moment, so she pressed the coat into my unresisting hands while I dumbly stood there, still naked, and no longer aware of my surroundings.
Rachel laughed, and as I slowly returned to my senses, I couldn't help but laugh with her.
She gave me an almost shy smile, and a small twirl. Biting her lip, she seemed to want me to say something.
Summoning the full weight of my extensive University education and vocabulary, I was able to string together three words in a semi-coherent sentence. "You... look... wonderful!" I managed.
Rachel laughed again.
"Well then," she said, a thrill evident on her face, and a sense of daring in her voice, "Guess it's time we go for another walk then."
[To be continued in Rachel's Dare - Part 5 - in late May 2015.]
Madison
- 17.02.2020
- 29
- 0
- Category:
- Exhibitionism
