You agree

Mrs Amma is not pushing you, but it would not hurt to make a good first impression. You nod: "No problem Ma'am!" She smiles at you: "Well that's the sort of stuff I like to hear sweetie. Off you pop, ask Sasha to show you the way, he'll find you more... fitting clothes." As she ends her sentence she pushes you gently toward the door with a gentle pat on the butt. You can catch the glance she gives to her spanker and cannot help wondering what the one who was in the office behind you did, except perhaps just having the right shape and having caught too much of her attention in the past... But you are pushed gently to your job and Sasha very professionnally pitches you on the way: "The clients are demanding, I hope you don't mind being called names. Oh and they usually like private sessions. No sex though. And no lovers. That's only if Ma'am authorises it. She's very strict about that." as he talks you are walked in a corridor where a few Pleasureboys relax, separated from the main room. "You can put on anything you like here," explains Sasha, showing a big wardrobe, "It's basically tip-based technology: the more tips paid, the more the things falls apart. One of Ma'am's ideas. She gets a lot of them."

The thing is huge and diversified as hell. From bridesmaids' dresses to bunny suits, along with a huge variety of corsets, babydolls, tube skirts, mini shorts, hugging fishnet tuniques, simple silky suits, light as a leaf and ready to fall as soon as put on, and more freaky things too, things with hooks and ropes, heels with locks and other twisted ideas of the mind, all very tight, very hugging, and made to get the most fragile and curvy style out of each Pleasureboy. Sasha gets your surprise: "We make a lot of cash, here, we have great facilities." He helps you around, insisting that you value your innocence: "They don't know you. When they're gonna see the new doll in town, they're going to get mad for you. This may be the most cash you ever make here!" he giggles. He holds you a small purple squared miniskirt and a tie top, with assorted white panties and stockings, and of course a pair of heels. "There, you see, it's not too bad!", he exclaims once you're dressed up, "A true well-born girl. Don't worry, it's set so the tips won't take your undies away." The skirt is soft and feels new, but with the composure you have to keep with your heels on and the size of the thing, your lower butt will be visible at the slightest bend. "That's exactly what they'll be looking for tonight," he giggles. Very anxious, you get toward the stage, and when you look back he is already gone.

The stage overlooks the entire room and its two floors. In front of you, behind a shiny and blinding light, you can guess the room, the huge bar at the back with the hostess and their helf unbuttoned shirts, sharing champagne with men in suits and ties, the tables where as far as you can tell more than one Trumale has a small bubble-butt Pleasureboy on his knees and is gently teasing him, and of course the space in front of the stage, where they wait for you. They catcall you and whistle as you make your entrance in the silence and your name is called, assorted with "Our brand new acquisition, just for you gentlemen!" The eyes are peeling the clothes off your body. The music begins, as you have your back on the big pole in the middle of the stage. Pole dancing is a basic skill every Pleasureboy learns, of course, which makes perfect sense provided how the industry is flourishing these days. You twist and turn, arching and bouncing, and the crowd actually is getting excited. After half a minute your skirt is shorter by half, pieces of fabric falling apart as your tips increase. You focus on your dancing, but you cannot help noticing that beyond the yelling and whistling men are two quieter characters, both of them elegantly dressed: a man, pawing half-mindedly a young Pleasureboy while looking at you, and a classy woman. Both of them are clearly ready to tip you off, but you turn and can't see which and... you're naked.

You're entirely entirely naked. The tie top's remains fall at your feet along with the skirt and, to your surprise, the panties and the rest as well. Someone has just given that big a tip? you think as you remember Sasha's promise that you wouldn't be entirely undressed... The crowd has gone wild in the meantime, and you try to make your best impression. A few twirls, a few getting on your fours, looking at the crowd... From the top balcony Mrs Amma is extremely, extremely pleased, clearly. You finally manage to make your escape from the stage, under the applause.

Sasha isn't there for you to unleash your furor, and as you pass on a little black dress and tie back your hair in a blonde ponytail you enrage by yourself. What an asshole! A slight slap on your butt brings you back to reality. It's Mrs Amma. "You have been soooo perfect, dearie! I'm very glad." She pats you gently on the head as you feel a strange rush of thankfulness and, yes, a little pride. "Now, there was a very well-off lady and a gentleman who wanted to see you a bit privately to... congratulate you. Would you kindly?" she asks, a hand lazily rested on your hips...