Hot Mom An Uber Driving SlutChapter 11
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Same Day – June 1st, 2019{br}
When they arrived at the Landing Strip, the back parking lot was mostly empty. The only people there were a few dancers and employees. There was a back entrance for them.
Just as they did every day, the girls were expected to get out of the car with nothing on but their leather collars, a skimpy pair of white cotton panties, and a pair of high heels. Melanie carried their shared makeup caboodle.
Usually, there was something clever and naughty written on the panties.
Melanie’s panties said “Caution Severe Camel Toe,” and she had them yanked up so that her camel toe was quite easily visible through the panties.
Nicole’s panties said, “Punish this pussy!” and she hiked hers up into her crotch. The back of her panties was a single strip of cloth that ran down the middle of her asshole nub.
Savannah’s white panties were decorated with a fresh reddish-pink beet that looked like an asshole in the back of her panties. The caption read, “Is Booty Hole a vegetable?”
Brock and Jonathon usually left right after the girls got out of the car and strode across the nearly empty parking lot. They weren’t legally permitted to walk outside topless, but in this part of town, no one was going to stop them. Today they came with the girls because they had been summoned once again to Danny’s office. They were apprehensive about what they’d find there.
The Landing Strip has a wooden fence around the dumpsters in the back, which opens up on both sides. Employees have to pass by the ripe pissy-beer swill smelling garbage to go inside through the backdoor. The assault on your nose before you enter the den of inequity is like a slap in the face to prepare you for what you may find inside.
There are cameras all over the place, and the door is heavily reinforced so that people can’t just walk if they don’t belong there.
Today, a girl was standing outside waiting for them. She wore a tank top and shorts and had her hands on her hips. “Look who decided to play drag-ass! Get those panties off and in your mouth,” she said. This wasn’t Stormy.
“Yes, Mistress Trouble!” Melanie was the first to bend at the waist and slip out of her panties. She stuffed them in her mouth and let a few inches hang out. She squatted with her hands behind her head as she had almost every day since her new rules went into effect. The other girls promptly joined her in a straight line.
Brock and Jonathon didn’t recognize her, and she didn’t know them either.
“You two brats lost? This ain’t a Pokestop if you are looking to play Pokemon Go. You don’t belong here,” she told them angrily. Trouble had very harsh features. Trouble looked a little female Luis Guzman in drag with small tits and a very wide ass. She had the Warlock tattoo and her dancer name tattooed all over her body in Gangster fonts.
Brock seemed puzzled at first and stuttered a little.
“If you want to stay and watch, then it is twenty bucks each! No touching that costs extra, right girls?” she smirked as she offered Brock’s own mother, aunt, and girlfriend to him as playthings.
“No, these are our girls. We are here to see Danny,” Brock explained.
“They are Stormy’s girls right now,” Trouble could see from the look on the girl’s faces that the younger guys were telling the truth. Trouble is Stormy’s right-hand bitch, and she bossed the girls around when Stormy was dancing or busy with something.
“Go on in,” Trouble pointed to the heavily reinforced employee entrance.
Brock tried to open the door, and it didn’t budge.
Trouble chuckled and told him to pull harder. “You are weak. Put your back into it,” she teased.
Brock tried again and couldn’t budge it.
“The door doesn’t unlock until noon,” Trouble chuckled when she made them fall for her little joke. She turned to the girls and told them that their assholes better be clean enough to eat off. “You girls need to piss?” she asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” the three sluts answered with muffled voices.
“Good, you can hold that a little longer. I want to make you do the pee-pee dance!” she toyed with the girls.
“We were told to drop them off at 11:30 am every day. They can’t even come in until noon?” Brock asked the dancer.
“They tell the girls to get here by 11:30, so they will show up around 12:30, baby!” Trouble was sweetly condescending to Brock like he was an adorable but naive child.
“They stay like this the entire time?” Jonathon was confused.
“No, baby! I make them do naughty little exercises. You know, like Jumping Jacks and deep squats. If a guy wants his dick sucked or something, they do it. If they are good girls, I let them piss before their shift. If not, Mistress Stormy makes them hold it all day,” Trouble said. She had a garden hose in her hand, and she sprayed both boys. She said it was an accident, but it wasn’t. “I also hose them down. You sure you don’t want to pay to hose them down?” Trouble offered.
Brock reiterated that they were his girls. It was evident that Trouble didn’t care. She let them piss outside by the dumpsters and hosed them down all over. She was careful to spray down their pussies and assholes.
Trouble made the girls skip rope together. It was more than just an excuse to see their tits and ass bounce up and down. It helped them with cardio. They thanked her for her attention politely. She let them stretch out on the cold cement slab by the dumpster in the most obscenely vulgar ways. Brock and Jonathon were pleased to see just how limber the girls were. They could bend in the most surprising of ways. It was hard not to get an erection watching them stretch out like this. The girls were used to doing this in broad daylight behind this wretched old downtown nightclub. A few homeless bums watched from a distance, but Trouble wouldn’t let them get closer unless they had money.
A couple waitresses and the female bartender showed up. They weren’t surprised when they saw Trouble teasing the girls. The main bartender looked like a very slutty version of Sarah Silverman. She claimed she heard that so often that she went by the name Sarah now.
“You are Brock and Jonathon? Very cool to finally meet you. Your moms and Savannah talk about you all the time,” Sarah said. The guys were flattered. “We’ve had some pretty weird shit here before. We get swingers who bring their wives in for the day just to watch them dance for other men. We had a girl who was into knives and hung herself from hooks. We had a girl who took a flashlight on stage so that men could see further up her pussy and asshole. I’d have to say these ladies are the craziest ones we’ve ever had,” she said.
“They are slaves, Mamacita!” Trouble said.
“You are a slave,” Sarah replied with a smirk on her face.
“I am a slave to that dick!” Trouble danced in place and then got very close to Jonathon. “I like small boys. They got big dicks. You want to play with me? I’ll fuck you right out here on the hood of somebody’s car. I don’t give a shit,” she said.
Jonathon tried to explain he had plenty of pussy if he ever wanted it.
“You get tired of that home pussy. That’s why men come here. They want to try something new. Once you have been with a thick, Puerto Rican woman, then you won’t want anything else,” she said. She made him look at her huge lips. They were as fat as Nicole’s pussy lips. “You see these? They were made for sucking cocks!” she continued her pitch. “You don’t know what you are missing!” she said.
Trouble wasn’t particularly demanding of the girls. She was more interested in exploiting them to make a little money before their shift started. When the door opened, she told them to crawl on all fours through the club. The girls had to crawl in heels with their panties in their mouths through the kitchen, bar, stage area, and then into the locker room behind Trouble.
Brock asked Sarah if he could see Danny and told her he was told to come by. Sarah said that she didn’t advise them to see Danny because he was angry. He had just lost a lot of money recently, and he wasn’t happy. “Why don’t you give him until about a fifth of vodka and then come see him,” Sarah measured time in how long it took Danny to down a bottle of liquor.
The guys sat in the empty strip club. It seemed pretty sad, dirty, and pathetic when there was no music and no activity. The smell was like if a bottle of cheap perfume collided with a dirty ashtray and landed in a warm bottle of Budweiser. It permeated everything in the bar.
Trouble had all three girls on their hands and knees in the lady’s bathroom. They were going through their morning rituals until Stormy arrived. The girls were expected to dunk their own heads into the toilets. These toilets weren’t exactly sanitary, and it took more than a little self-determination to voluntarily plunge your head into the piss-water and gargle.
The DJ and Stormy appeared with some of the other girls. The DJ looked like Vince Neil on a really, really bad day after being kicked out of rehab. They called the DJ by the nickname “Country” but he looked like an aging 1980s Heavy Metal guitar player.
Stormy was built like an Amazon. She was aptly named because everything about her screamed confrontation. In fact, if you wanted to describe “confrontation” to someone who didn’t speak English, you could probably just show them a picture of Stormy, and they would understand what you meant.
She looked like the actress Mary Waronov in her prime. She was the actress that played in movies like Eating Raoul and many of Roger Corman’s other cult films.
She recognized the boys immediately and went over to where they were standing. They were immediately nervous that she was going to complain about something.
“Relax, I just wanted to say hello. You guys happy with everything?” she asked them nicely. They had expected her to call them names and yell at them.
Stormy initially pretended she thought it was fucked up that the girls wanted her to kick their ass all day at work, but she secretly loved working with them after she got started. The rules for Melanie, Nicole, and Savannah, were common knowledge to the other dancers. A few of the girls thought Management was punishing them, and they behaved for fear they would be expected to follow the rules.
“I’ve really grown to like coming to work. I have customers calling me Mistress Stormy now. I had an out-call the other day, and I just kicked this guy in the balls for an hour, and he gave me two hundred bucks. I would have done it for free,” she chuckled with a grateful look on her face.
“We haven’t heard any complaints about the rules,” Jonathon said.
“That is because one of the rules is no complaining,” Stormy was surprisingly witty. She said she had to get dressed and she’d come back out and sit with them for a while until customers came in.
She went into the bathroom and kissed Trouble on the lips. She kicked Melanie, Savannah, and Nicole between their legs hard on their cunts. “Okay, twats! I see you brought your Masters today. I want you to show them what you’ve learned. I don’t want them to think they aren’t getting their money’s worth when they pay me to babysit you cum-babies! Let’s go vacuum cleaner duty! You have 10 minutes to clean up the booths. If my toe squishes into a wad of cum or I see a single drop of jizz back there, then it will be your asses today! I assure you!” she said. She told the girls they could wear their panties on their heads since no one is here yet.
As absurd as it sounds, the three sexy women accepted the hazing obediently. They wore their panties over their heads like hats. They crawled on all fours into the dark booths where they give lap-dances. There are two rows of booths on either side of the bar. They are dark little booths with a minimal curtain and uncomfortable padding. There is also a VIP area with three larger booths that have couches girls can lay down on and hump a guy. It costs a little more to go in those rooms, but the dances are so cheap and fulfilling that most men never do.
It was like someone lit a fire underneath them when they were given the order by Stormy. They acknowledged it and crawled to the booths areas in their heels. They licked the floor and seats of whatever goop or gooey stuff was there. They were allowed to throw away needles, bits of paper, and general trash, but any cum was expected to be swallowed, and there was lots of it. Stormy walked the area imperiously like a Queen and pronounced it as good as it could be. “You little cunt-squirters must be excited your Masters are here. You are permitted to talk to them, but you need to get ready first. Go put your faces on and clean your selves up!” she gave them permission to get ready with the other girls in the back.
The three of them shared a locker because they had a minimal caboodle. No one dared to touch their makeup because Stormy would have kicked their ass if they had.
These were some of the rules in the club that Stormy enforced. Many of them were there original rules but they have been modified by Stormy. A few of the rules were suggested by the girls themselves. Stormy found that amusing and added them.
All men are Sir, All women are Ma’am, only Stormy and Trouble are addressed as Mistress.{br}
Suck the DJ’s dick at the start of the shift.{br}
Don’t EVER request songs or complain about them. Dance to whatever the fuck he plays.The other dancers notoriously frustrate the dayshift DJ. He is Stormy’s boyfriend. She makes sure they respect him but he is not permitted to give them orders.
“That perverted motherfucker better give ME some fucking orders before he starts playing with you sluts!” Stormy explained her reasoning. She considers the daily blowjob to be fine since she knows about it. The girls suck his dick together lovingly at the start of the shift in the DJ booth.
The sluts are permitted to talk to anyone (respectfully) unless they are Stormy or Trouble’s regulars.{br}
If they are not sure, then they need to ask Stormy. They don’t have to wait until someone talks to them, or they’d never make any money.{br}
Savannah and ONLY Savannah has to offer to suck the bootyhole of any customer she dances for.{br}
The original of this rule is that one day, When Savannah started working there, she was bragging how much she liked to do it. Stormy never forgot that and made it a rule. The DJ sometimes introduces her as “Sassy Savannah, the Booty-Eater! No anus is too heinous!”{br}
The girls must ask permission to piss or shit. They will be given two opportunities at the start and end of their shift.{br}
They are escorted outside by Trouble or Stormy and shit near the dumpster. They aren’t permitted to use the lady’s toilets.{br}
The girls are hosed down at the start and end of every shift outside. They do not use showers and they do not use toilets inside the club.{br}
Stormy was surprised at first when Melanie suggested this rule. Melanie explained that was how it was at home and Stormy was happy to oblige the crazy bitch.{br}
Day shift and night shift save all of their used condoms in garbage bags. These are provided to the girls at the end of their shift.{br}
Brock and Jonathon mixed the wasted jizz from the leftover condoms into the girl’s food frequently. At the club the girls are expected to drip Spent condoms onto a slice of pizza. Mistress Stormy decides when the girls can share a slice by eating it with their hands behind their back at the bar. This is usually done for the amusement of regular bar patrons and dancers alike. Occasionally, the girls are expected to titty fuck a cum covered hot dog. They must lick the tip and eat it end first with their hands behind their back.{br}
No smoking, drugs, liquor, of any kind. Any of that is to be given directly to Stormy - no questions asked.{br}
Any complaining means a toilet plunger up the ass.{br}
At the very least{br}
Panties come off immediately on stage and go in the mouth.{br}
The girls aren’t permitted to sit in bar stools or changes. They stand or ASK permission to sit in customers’ laps. There is no knee sitting. They must sit right on his lap if they are going to sit at all.{br}
The other dancers in the club usually plop down next to a guy or sit on his knee to flirt without asking.{br}
No one fucks with the girls unless Stormy says they can. No hazing, no stealing, no tripping, nothing. If they didn’t serve Stormy, then it might have been open season on them by the dancers. This also goes for customers.{br}
The customers can play with them just like any other dancer (including sex). If one of the customers was to try to burn them with a cigarette or do something rotten to them, then Stormy might break off a foot in their ass. If it were a big guy, then Rocco or Terminator, the bouncers would break a foot off in their ass. It has never been necessary to kick the ass of a customer or a dancer since the very first day of this rule. Most people come there to have a good time and that is what they get.
Speaking of Rocco and Terminator, they might have been twins. The men had no neck and looked like solid muscle. They were full members of the MC and looked pretty dangerous. Rocco sent over a complimentary drink for the boys.
Jonathon had never had a Shirley Temple before. “This tastes like Cherry Sprite!” he said happily.
“Don’t drink that,” Brock took the drink and said that it was Rocco’s joke.
“If someone wants to send me Cherry Sprite, then I’ll laugh until I cry,” Jonathon chuckled but left the drink alone.
The guys watched their mothers and Savannah work the bar with the other dancers. It was very different seeing them in the neon lights dancing to music. The girls often looked very serious on stage and didn’t smile. Melanie reminded them of a teacher who was standing before an audience trying to give a lesson to kids that were only half paying attention.
They didn’t say anything to their Masters. They quietly went about the room showing their tits and asking for dances from the regulars. Most of the early afternoon regulars were there to drink and look at asses. They weren’t there to tip.
Brock could empathize with how grueling it must be to do this every day. Melanie enthusiastically walked up to an obviously uninterested man and propositioned him for a table dance. The dances were full-contact nude anything goes, and it usually did. These men weren’t buying even for a measly twenty-five bucks.
It wasn’t until Melanie finally ended up on a nearby side stage that they had a chance to talk. Melanie’s legs were splayed wide open like a V as she rested on her butt. Everything on her body was visible to anyone who bothered to look, but no one did.
Half-way into the song, a single lone biker walked up like he was doing Melanie a favor. He approached her like she was some lonely old sex-vending machine waiting for him to make a selection. The biker stared longingly into the pink of her vagina and up her ass. He brushed her tits with his rough, oily fingers and then gave her a single dollar. Melanie thanked him profusely like the dollar was the answer to world hunger and the cure for cancer all in one.
“This sucks. How do you make any money?” Brock observed. He had never been in the club for long before. He had no idea it was this slow and tedious.
“I don’t usually make money, Master. I have a few regulars who buy dances, but they don’t come in until a little after 5 pm when they get off work,” Melanie explained it was a waiting game as she remained fully on display for her son and nephew.
“So, this is a waste of time?” Brock was confused. The girls had a quota they had to make every night. They made most of it from driving Uber and the subsequent In-Calls, but Brock didn’t know they made so little.
He watched Savannah dance on stage and swing around the pole like a gymnast. She twisted herself into a pretzel. She winked her asshole at a guy who was as stone-faced as old Mr. Eldridge. She popped her pussy for two guys who shrugged and walked to the bar. She smiled playfully and did this for three songs in a row, and she only made two dollars.
That wasn’t even minimum wage if you averaged it up over the course of an hour.
“So, why do you do this?” Brock asked.
“You told me to, Master,” Melanie seemed confused by the question.
“You danced before Jonathon, and I was in charge. Were you making money then?” Brock was ready to decrease the intensity of the rules if that is what it took to make some money from this exercise. None of the dancers appeared to be making any money.
“Yes Master, I did,” She explained that Danny Lee had told her she had too and so she did. Brock seemed puzzled and wondered why any of the women continued to dance there.
“I can’t say why the other girls are here. They may be stuck or in a perpetual rut for a variety of reasons. I do this because it is what you ordered me to do. If you are asking, do I mind then the answer is no, not at all? I love it,” she said.
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