You'd rather not dance (soft BDSM)

"Maybe not for my first night... ma'am...", you reply, not to sure of yourself. Mrs Amma looks at you, a bit surprised. "Why of course, my boy! Nobody forces you to do anything here. I'm sure Sasha can assure the show, can't you, Sasha?". With a scared look at the spanking plank, Sasha nods and goes to prepare himself for a dance. Mrs Amma moves her impressive stature to the door and carefully shuts it. She is dashing and impressive, you think to yourself. Her dress is impeccable, a long piece of black fabric which hangs slightly behind her, but leaves her shoulders bare, as well as most of her back. Her cleavage is deep and her chest very visible. All of this is magnified by an intricate and delicate hair knot, which twirls and turns in very sophisticated ways. Her clothes fit perfectly with her overweight silhouette, and since she is turning her back at you, you can see that she makes very little efforts to hide her amazing butt. She does not seem to care. Overall, she is elegant, sophisticated, and dashingly sexy. She gives out an aura of self-certainty, authority, and, you realise shivering, something more chilling. There is something predatory about the way she moves, the way she looks at things. Behind her smile and good manners, you can feel a craving far stronger than you have seen in men or women thus far. She turns back and looks at you, you barely manage to withstand her look for a few seconds before failing. You can feel her smirk as she walks back to the desk. She has not locked the door. She knows that whatever happens here, nobody will dare disturb her.

"Come over here, sweetie". Although she has spoken softly, her words make you jump like an electric discharge. She sits at her desk once more, very calm. You make a few step to the guest's chair. "No", she stops you, "that is for visitors. You are not a visitor, are you?" She doesn't let you reply. "Come here, stand next to me. Yes, good boy". She has not moved. You know she has been watching you. She made no effort to hide it. You feel ridiculous next to her, and you blush very hard. She has not stopped smirking. Her voice is very soft when she starts speaking again: "What did you see, coming here, sweetie?". She expects an answer, so you say that you find the club very well-managed, the boys cute, and the clients satisfied. "If I were a Trumale, I would spend many evenings here, lady", you would like to say, but it is absurd to compare yourself to a Trumale, you know that. She seems happy enough of your praise, but her voice is very cold when she starts talking again.

"Yes. And you know why everything is working so well?" This is not an actual question, you know it, "It's because when I tell some boy to get on the stage and move his cute little ass for the men, he obeys. When I tell a boy to go sit on a guy's lap a whole evening and get groped while the guy orders champagne, he does. When I tell a pretty little thing like you that he must go and spend the evening grinding on a huge cock for a shitty tip, he goes. With a smile on his face, and a thank you sir for the pleasant evening". You are frozen. She had raised her hand to your back, kindly, but she will not let you move back. "And you want to know why? Because you like that. You can go, walk out the door, find another job. But you enjoy it. You'll enjoy it just like the others. And you'll enjoy that just like the others". She slaps your ass firmly. The slap was not soft or gentle. Her hand rings on your ass and the slap actually hurts. You gasp. She is not smiling anymore. "That will remind you why you are here, and that you are a part of my nicely-managed organisation. Will it not?". You don't reply, you just nod, when another slap arrives on your ass. And another, and another. She doesn't even try to undress you. She stops when your ass hurts like never before, your face is red and you're almost crying. She's smiling once more.

That evening, she tells you to go to room 202. Mr Napolitanos wants a cute boy to grind on him, like every week. You spend an hour in your underwear, his cock between your buttcheeks, rubbing, coming, and going, moaning and panting, until he finally unloads all over your panties, and slides a note in your ruined underwear. There's not even enough to replace them. You smile, and thank him for the pleasant evening, before coming back home.