A "special Club"

It was a Saturday evening.

Our whore sat in an exclusive club for the privileged, exuded its usual magical ambiance. Puffs of cigar smoke filtered the candlelit hues emanating from invisible alcoves. Silky Jazz sounds throbbed and hummed and snaked through the haze… and the dancing whore-girls… their bodies gyrating and swaying… Heavenly, divine, angelic little whore-sluts… giving themselves to us – yes, to us, the guests, their superiors in this world… their sole purpose to entertain, to give pleasure…

The CEO had invited me.

“Wear your most expensive heels,” he had said.

My first weekend visit. A real privilege. Or so I thought.... I just focused on the large envelope of cash I would be getting at the conclusion....

I dined while watching a whore.... She danced for me, petted my feet with her lips. I drank champagne. Too much champagne, probably. She ate my pussy. Good little whore-slut.

The club was busier than during the week: More guests, more whores. Each whore numbered, owned. Eager to please little fuck-whores. I felt majestic. I felt like I was one of the privileged, not just a whore but a whore on the arm of a powerful man who was paying me handsomely to be here?

“sweet slut,” The CEO said suddenly, snapping out of my trance. He had somehow managed to get right up close to me. How had he crept up on my like that?

“The manager needs a favor,” he said quickly. “I have told him the answer is already ‘No’ – but I have at least allowed him to persuade me to ask you.”

I shot a glance over at where I had seen the manager a moment ago. He was still standing there, fidgeting anxiously.

I turned my attention back to the CEO and looked up at him blankly.

“Over there – ,“ he gestured vaguely across the club – “is Mr. Khani junior - the son of the man who owns this bar. He is an extremely powerful and influential man, mainly because of who his father is.”

I nodded even though I had never heard of the man.

“Apparently he’s just passing through, here for a few hours only,” the CEO went on. “He wants you to go over and dance for him.”

What!? Why on earth would he want me to dance for him!? He had the pick of the whores. They were gorgeous. They were available. He owned them! As the son of the owner of this club he practically owned these whores, didn’t he?

“Me!?” I said incredulously. “Why me?”

“As I say, I have already told him that the answer is ‘No’,” he said. “After all - you only dance for me, right? You’re my dancing girl.”

What!? I only dance for him? Where did he get that idea from?

“I don’t mind dancing for other people,” I retorted, watching him raise an eyebrow. “But – well - not here, surely? Not in public, I mean.”

He smiled confidently.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, “and that’s why I told the manager the answer was already ‘No’. I told him that you belonged to me and that was that.”