There we were…me, this man and his running shorts.  I gave a weak, ‘hi.’  His response was even weaker than mine.  But he gave a small smile and motioned for me to sit down.  So I did and he immediately jumped up as if his seat were on fire.  I was so scared, I had no idea what the hell this guy’s deal was.  And a horrible thought jumped into my head: I was about to be murdered in this champagne room and all of my family, college friends, teachers and co-workers would find out that I was moonlighting as a stripper and was a full-fledged dirty freak and my funeral would be empty because of the embarrassment my second job inflicted on all who knew (or thought they knew) me.  But at least my great-grandmother wouldn’t roll over in her grave: my thongs were tiny, but they were clean.

I closed my eyes, waiting for his next move, which happen to be the removal of his running jacket.  Yes, it matched his shorts.  He took a deep breath and stepped toward me.  I was immediately drawn back to a not so fond memory…

During my brief stint as a heterosexual, I engaged in activities that were against my better judgment.  We’re all adults here and we’ve all probably been a part of such an experience in one way or another.  To be honest, even if I were straight, this would be last on my list of sexual favors to perform for my beloved.  It’s just disgusting.  My not-quite boyfriend and I had a discussion one day.  The debate?  Swallow or not to swallow.  Of course, he was for it.  Me, being the complete novice, disagreed.  So I took a poll with several girlfriends.  They seemed to think it was the best thing since sliced bread.  They described what they liked in great detail and I tried to feign interest, but, ugh, why?  But then let’s consider the alternative.  Oral sex with a woman is probably disgusting to some people.  Me?  It’s better than sliced bread and always will be.  So a few nights later I called my non-boyfriend up.  It was around midnight and my roomie was dead asleep and I couldn’t get the thought of this endeavor out of my mind.  If so many women enjoyed it, it couldn’t be too horrible, right?  Don’t knock it ’til you try it and all that.  His response…’I’ll shower and be right over.’  Of course he would.  I prepped myself with some neck stretches and, a friend’s suggestion, mints.  Fast forward to the end result…which took forever, by the way.  Six positions later, who knew one needed this much stamina?  My neck was killing me!  And finally…

Back in the champagne room, I felt the familiar heaving that could only mean one thing…here comes my dinner.  Just like I did all over my non-boyfriend that night so many months prior.  Only I didn’t think this guy would find it as humorous as he did.  The room started to spin and it was so freaking hot in those damn pantyhose!  He couldn’t be serious, could he?  He didn’t know me.  I could have some mouth disease or a propensity to gnash my teeth in tense situations.  He was seriously playing with fire.  I eyed the chilled bottle of sparkling cider as my last and final life line.  I needed it.  Anything to cool me down and delay what I thought was easily going to be my last and final night.  And then he got down on his knees.


I was still clueless.  Was he offering to pleasure me?  Is that what the pantyhose were for?  Protection?  A cheap version of a dental dam?  This dude was clearly off the reservation.  He could have a mouth disease or a propensity to gnash his teeth in tense situations!  But then he scuffled around.  I say scuffle because it reminded me of a crab, but he was on his knees.  And finally, he spoke to me.  “I’ve been a bad boy.  Spank me and tell me what a bad boy I’ve been.”  What the fuck!?  He was dead serious.  I almost laughed out of relief.  For now, at least, I knew his shorts would be staying on.  So I spanked him.  And told him how bad he was.  Now I am no one to judge anyone for having a fetish.  They can be quite healthy.  But that still didn’t stop me from wanting to laugh my ass off.  It took guts for this man to walk into a place and bare something so personal to a complete stranger.  So, in a display of great customer service, I spanked him and I spanked him hard.  Almost too hard.  My hand was killing me because he was a skinny guy with a bony ass.  And I must admit that I think I was doing a good job.  So good, in fact, that he stood up and laid across my lap face down wanting more.

I kept spanking him until I couldn’t anymore.  If someone was outside the room watching and/or listening, they definitely got quite the show.  My dialogue didn’t change.  I didn’t know what leeway I had in being creative so I just stuck to the script as given and that seemed to be just fine.  Finally, time was up.  Leaving the room, I couldn’t believe what just happen.  I had come a long way from the quiet Virginia neighborhood I had grown up in.  And when I got a spanking back then, it wasn’t quite so entertaining or funny, least of all sexual.  Heading into the dressing room I ran into the dancer who had given me the room.  She smiled.  “Going on break?”  she asked.  I nodded.  Absolutely.  If ever there were a time when a girl needed a good drink, this would be that time.  And I knew just the place.

2 thoughts on “No Sex in the Champagne Room, but spanking’s okay Pt. II

  1. Love love love!

    I’m a submissive girl myself, so sometimes when a guy is quite focused on my ass in a private dance (and if he’s very nice!) I’ll encourage him to spank me, mostly just a little but if we’re having a good time, a lot! But I’ve never had a guy ask me to spank him, I would love that. That’s rad, and I hope he came back and saw you again!


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