Dancefloor

The bass vibrated through the sticky floorboards and straight up my legs, a heavy, rhythmic thud that felt like a second heartbeat.

Jennifer dragged me into the absolute thick of it.

The dancefloor was a writhing, chaotic ocean of sweaty flesh, illuminated only by the blinding, erratic slashes of strobe lights.

Panic gripped my throat like a vice.

I didn’t know how to dance.

I had never danced in my life.

I was going to look like a complete, spastic idiot in front of Jennifer, and worse, in front of her ex-boyfriend and her judgmental pack of goth friends.

But as the sea of bodies swallowed us whole, the claustrophobic crush of the crowd forced a sudden realization on me.

Nobody was actually dancing. Not really.

There was no space for footwork or rhythm. It was just a massive, undulating organism of bodies grinding, jumping, and swaying against each other in the dark.

You didn't need skill here; you just needed to surrender to the friction.

Jennifer didn't give me a choice anyway. She stopped abruptly, forcing me to crash right into her back.

The slick, tight vinyl of her mini-dress slid against the rough denim of my jeans.

She threw her hands up, tangling her fingers in her own loose, dark hair, and began to roll her hips to the heavy, aggressive beat. She ground her incredible, firm ass directly into my crotch.

A loud groan tore from my throat, instantly drowned out by the deafening music.

My cock surged to a brutal, aching stiffness.

She was doing this on purpose.

She was grinding the soft, hot cleft of her ass against my rigid erection, showing off what she was giving me.

It had to be her corruption-level kicking in.

The sheer heat of her body radiating through that thin vinyl was intoxicating.

Carefully, I let my hands fall to her waist, gripping the thick leather belt she wore.

She didn't pull away.

Instead, she leaned back into me, tilting her head to the side, exposing the pale line of her throat above that heavy metal choker.

I couldn't stop looking over my shoulder. Through the strobe flashes, I tried to peer through the dense thicket of jumping bodies, terrified I’d see that guy Damian shoving his way toward us with a broken beer bottle.

The possessive, humiliated look on his face back at the VIP table was etched into my brain.

But the crowd was too thick.

We were completely insulated, a hidden pocket of raw, dirty lust in the middle of five hundred strangers.

The anonymity of the dark crowd emboldened me.

My growing confidence hummed in my veins, demanding I enjoy her corruption more.

My hands slid up from her waist, all the way up to her chest.

I grabbed her heavy, massive tits right through the sheer mesh top and the tight vinyl dress.

They were so incredibly soft, spilling over the top of the plunging neckline, filling my palms completely.

I squeezed them hard, kneading the heavy flesh, mashing them together.

Jennifer gasped, her back arching, pressing her ass even harder against my throbbing dick. She didn't push my hands away. She just let her head loll back against my shoulder, a soft, breathless sound escaping her parted lips.

Fuck this was so hot.

Encouraged by her submission, I shifted my grip. I found the hard, pebbled peaks of her nipples straining against the vinyl. I pinched them. Hard.

"Ah! Fuck!" she cried out, the sharp sound cutting through the heavy bass.

Her hands flew down, grabbing my wrists. She ripped my hands away from her tits, her chest heaving as she spun around to face me.

Her blue eyes were wild, dilated, shimmering with a volatile mix of anger and overwhelming arousal.

For a second, I thought I had pushed too far.

I thought she was going to slap me, scream at me, leave me stranded in this sweaty hellhole.

Instead, she grabbed the collar of my cheap funeral-shirt and yanked me down until her mouth was pressed directly against my ear.

"You want to keep doing that? Then we’re going to your place first," she whispered in my ear, her sweet breath sending a shiver down my spine.

My heart hammered.

Take her to my place.

The idea of getting this gorgeous, corrupted goth slut naked in my own bed, of burying my cock deep inside her tight, wet cunt until we were both screaming, was just what I fucking needed.

But then, the cold, paranoid reality crashed down on me.

My place.

If I took her to my apartment, it was over.

The anonymity that shielded me, the mysterious dominance… it would all evaporate.

She would know where I lived.

She would see the mold, the empty instant noodle cups, the pathetic reality of Ron Stuckey.

And that was exactly her game plan.

I could see the cunning, predatory glint in her smoky eyes. She wanted to unmask me.

She wanted to strip away my power by dragging me into the harsh light of reality.

I couldn't let her do that.

The true identity of Ron Stuckey belonged only to one woman, Sandy Dogan.

But I also couldn't let this raw, pulsing sexual tension go to waste.

I nodded, faking agreement. "Yeah. Let's go."

A triumphant, wicked smile curled her red lips. She grabbed my hand and started pulling me through the dense crowd, weaving toward the neon EXIT sign glowing in the distance.

But as we neared the back corridor, away from the pulsing dancefloor and toward the cloakroom, I saw the sign for the restrooms.

I didn't think. I just acted on pure, horny impulse.

I tightened my grip on her hand, planted my feet, and yanked her hard to the left, pulling her off the main path and shoving her through the heavy wooden door of the men's bathroom.

"Hey! What the fuck—" she yelped, stumbling in her high-heeled boots as we crashed into the sterile, brightly lit space.

The bathroom reeked of cheap bleach, stale piss, and vomit. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed aggressively overhead. It was completely empty.

I spun around and grabbed a heavy, wet mop that a janitor had abandoned in the corner, jamming the thick wooden handle tightly under the door handle, wedging it against the tiled floor.

Jennifer backed up until her shoulders hit the cold tiles above the sinks. She crossed her arms under her tits, her breathing shallow and fast.

"What the actual fuck are you doing?" she demanded, her voice echoing loudly in the tiled room. She looked worried, her eyes darting from the barricaded door to my face.

But underneath the anxiety, I could see the flush of heat on her chest, the way her nipples were still rock-hard against her dress.

The corruption event was active.

The public setting, the danger, the taboo….

This was the event.

Or I was going make this the event. Still not really sure how it worked.

"We're not going to my place," I said, my voice low, dropping the facade. "We're doing it here."

Her eyes widened. "Here? In a disgusting men's room? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Take it off," I commanded, ignoring her protests. "All of it. Right now."

Jennifer's jaw dropped. The flush on her chest deepened to an angry red. She pushed herself off the wall, her hands balled into fists.

"Excuse me?" she spat, her voice trembling with indignation. "Do you think I'm just some cheap fucking whore? You think you can drag me into a piss-stinking bathroom and order me to strip like a dog?"

Shit.

I swallowed hard, my confidence wavering.

I had moved too fast. She wasn't fully broken yet.

She was still fighting the app's influence, clinging to the last shreds of her dignity.

"Jennifer, I—" I started, raising my hands, desperately trying to salvage the event.

But before I could backpedal, the heavy wooden door rattled violently behind me.

Someone was trying to get in.

The wooden mop handle groaned under the pressure, bowing slightly.

"Hey!" a muffled, aggressive voice shouted from the corridor. "Open the fucking door!"

It wasn't the bouncer.

It was Damian.

"Jennifer?" Damian's voice bled through the wood, thick with suspicion and jealousy. "Are you in there? Are you okay? Open the door!"

Jennifer froze. Her eyes went wide, staring at the rattling door.

Her ex-boyfriend, the guy she had just humiliated, was standing inches away, demanding entry.

I expected her to panic. I expected her to pull the mop off the door and run back into his safe arms, and instruct the guy to kick my head in.

But she did something very, very different.

Her expression changed.

The indignation vanished and was replaced by something… feral.

"Actually…," she whispered, her voice cracking with raw, unadulterated arousal. "Maybe you are right about me after all."

She reached behind her back and gripped the zipper of her vinyl dress. With one swift, violent motion, she yanked it down. The tight material parted, and she shimmied her shoulders, letting the dress and the sheer mesh top pool around her high-heeled boots on the filthy floor.

My breath caught in my throat.

She was standing before me in nothing but a tiny, black lace thong and her leather choker.

Her massive, perfect tits were completely bare, the heavy, pale globes swaying slightly with her ragged breathing. Her dark, stiff nipples pointed accusingly at me.

"Jen!" Damian pounded his fist against the door, the wood shuddering. "I’m coming to help! Hold on!"

Jennifer didn't even flinch at the sound of his voice. She reached down, hooking her thumbs into the thin straps of her lace panties, and dragged them down her long legs, stepping out of them completely.

She stood totally naked, save for the boots and the collar.

Her pussy was fully exposed, a neat, dark landing strip of hair above swollen, glistening pink lips.

A thick string of clear, wet slick hung from her cunt, dripping slowly down her inner thigh.

She was already dripping wet, completely overwhelmed by the sick thrill of the moment.

"You wanted me naked," she purred, stepping toward me, her bare tits bouncing heavily. "What’s next, sir?"

Author's Note:

My Subscribestar has been now approved and is active!

https://subscribestar.art/drek

This time, I'm all in. My goal is to make writing these stories my actual career, and every single contribution brings me one step closer to doing this full-time. If you've enjoyed my work, I'd love your support!

(Also, I know I've mentioned my issues with the pics in relation to Patreon, but here on Subscribestar, the style and the videos will remain exactly as hyperrealistic as it currently is!)

Here's what I'm offering across three tiers:

Tier One – Read three chapters ahead in all ongoing stories! That's three chapters ahead in Submission Accelerator, My Idle Harem, and The Sweetest Corruption!

Tier Two – Read six chapters ahead in Submission Accelerator and My Idle Harem! You'll read the latest chapter the moment it drops. You'll also get voting privileges on story directions—choosing traits, deciding which heart Ron pursues next, and more.

Tier Three – Everything above, plus access to exclusive short stories. This includes all stories from my previous Patreon run—the Victory Suite Tales 1-7—now revised and updated with AI-generated artwork. Even if you've read them before, I promise that the experience feels fresh. And yes, Tale 7 is finally actually complete! Starting next month, I plan to write a new short story every month exclusively for this tier.

And, just to be clear, I still plan on releasing chapters here for free. The paying subscribers will get the chance to read ahead in the story.

So I'm hoping I'll see you there!