Time for lap dances

Even when her performance on stage was done, the club was still in business. Women still danced, patrons still drank…

And a Waverly that felt like crying, whose body moved without her control, walked in among the patrons in nothing but a pair of pompoms. Belying how she felt inside, she was grinning cheerfully, holding her pompoms over her head and fluttering them, shaking her body while she did.

Her tits jiggled, her ass swayed back and forth, forward and back; she bobbed as though she was at a party rather than undergoing the most humiliating experience of her life.

It was one of the few female patrons that Waverly felt herself gravitate towards first. She didn’t know whether that was something to be glad of. The woman was sat facing the stage, nursing a drink.

“Hey there,” Waverly said. “Enjoy the show?”

The woman looked her up and down, unblinking and uncompromising. Waverly wished she could react somehow; when none of her feelings made it out, they just got all the more intense, unvented.

Embarrassment was too minor a word.

Waverly fluttered her pompoms, then leant forwards, resting one either side of the woman’s head on the back of her chair; it left her unable to cover herself, aiding the woman’s eying of her body.

“Would I be here if I didn’t?” the woman said.

“Want a dance?” Waverly said. She smirked; “On the house.”

“I’m not going to turn that down,” the woman said.

She reached across to put her drink down, looking at Waverly expectantly. Waverly felt herself step back, preparing.

Oh god, this wasn’t going to happen too, was it? Displaying herself for the crowd was humiliating enough, but this… It almost felt worse, more personal. Instead of a myriad eyes on her it was just that one woman, but she couldn’t look away, couldn’t distract herself.

That, and it wasn’t as though the rest of the club would stop noticing her.

She started gyrating shamelessly, starting off with a humiliating mimicry of her cheerleader routine, before transitioning into something more personal. A high kick ended with her leg up over the woman’s shoulder, giving her a direct line of sight to Waverly’s exposed cunt.

Oh god, she was looking at her cunt, someone was looking right at her-

It didn’t get any better when her leg was allowed to descend. Then she just moved closer, turning around, almost sitting on the woman’s lap as she danced and gyrated, giving her a perfect view of Waverly’s ass.

On stage, she’d tried to delude herself into thinking that no one could really see her, that her dancing and throwing her hair around was too fast to let anyone focus on how she looked naked.

Nonsense, sure, but she’d tried to cling to that faint thread of hope. It was too much otherwise.

And with this, instead, there was np way to deny what the woman saw. She was up close and personal with Waverly’s tits, her ass, her pussy, everything she didn’t want people to see.

Waverly felt herself turning around again, still gyrating, moving up and down as she danced, her panty-free pussy right in front of the woman.

“So, how do I tip you?” the woman said, not even pretending to be interested in eye contact.

She lifted a one dollar bill. Waverly felt her body smirk, while inside she just wanted this to be over.

“Use your imagination,” the words slipped out of Waverly’s mouth.

This couldn’t be happening.

Her body moved closer, offering her cunt to the strange woman; while that part of her was more still, as she crouched slightly, her tits still shook appealingly.

No matter what Waverly thought, no matter how she tried to control her body, she couldn’t even slow her dance.

The stranger’s hand came to rest on her inner thigh; Waverly wanted to react, but instead she just shook invitingly, throwing her head back and pushing forward as the hand, and a folded dollar bill clasped between two fingers, moved higher.

The woman’s fingers were only inside her for a moment, but they left the bill behind. Waverly squeezed to keep it in place for a little longer, thanking the woman by dancing extra close.

She didn’t know which was more humiliating. If she faced the woman she gave someone a close-up view of her cunt, a sight no one but her girlfriend should see.

But when she looked away and shook her ass for the woman, she saw the rest of the club; people who’d admired her performance on stage, or- oh god, people that knew her from Purgatory that would line up to see her like this.

Waverly slapped her own ass, close to the woman’s face, gasping for her benefit.

She bent over, then snapped back up, shaking her pompoms again in a grand finish to the dance. She hadn’t even pretended to cover herself at any stage, for the sake of modesty or for teasing.

Then she strode away, ass swaying as she walked and each footstep to the beat of the music. She only slowed to turn and blow a kiss, winking.

Something in her was loving the attention, the exposure. Meanwhile that something left Waverly a helpless passenger as her body was paraded around, shown off in ways Waverly could never have even imagined.