hexidous

[hexidous]

I just wanted to give a quick update to anyone following the Silk and Sweat series-

I’m going through a pretty rough time right now and I don’t know when the next chapter will be up but it is not abandoned. I know where I want the series to go, but unfortunately it doesn’t line up with my mental state at the moment.

I am working on something a lil weird though 😇

[hexidous]

Hi! As a current dancer, I really love Silk and Sweat. Are you a current/former dancer as well? Your depiction of the club was great! And the spice was good too 🌝

Yes!! I was hoping some fellow dancers would read and catch the finer details lol

[hexidous]

i love ur silk & sweat series!

I’m so glad you’re enjoying it!! Next chapter is a bit heavy for Joel and we know our boy fucks his feelings away

[hexidous]

Echos

Part III of Silk and Sweat

Series Masterlist

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Summary: After your last encounter with Joel, you can’t stay away. The question is, can he?

Warnings: Depictions of stripping, degradation and praise kink, rough handling, daddy/sir usage, unprotected PIV

Word count: 4.1 k

-

Now that Joel had your number, every vibration of your phone sent a pang of hope through you.

You try to get the brooding, statuesque man out of your mind but it proves to be an impossible task. Days pass and your thoughts are consumed by him. Joel has become your new addiction and you needed a fix.

It’s early in the evening and you weigh your options. You wanted Joel to reach out first, to need you as desperately as you needed him. At the very least you wanted to hold out until the weekend, but your desire for this man is unlike anything you had experienced before.

You put your bag together and eagerly head to the the club. You spot Joel’s car and feel your heartbeat.

He’s standing in his usual spot and you smile, slowing down as you pass by.

“Hey, Joel,” you greet.

“Hey,” he replies curtly, barely looking up from the clipboard in his hands.

You were hoping for a warmer welcome but didn’t think much of it. You two were meant to keep a low profile after all.

The night trudged on slowly. You were having a hard time feigning interest in the men you spoke with and it was evident by the lack of cash in your wristlet. You snuck glances at Joel every now and again, disappointed to not once meet his gaze.

Did he regret what happened? Is he just not interested anymore?

Tommy calls you to the stage and you’re wrought with nerves, suddenly anxious at the thought of Joel seeing you dance.

“Got a special set queued up for ya, superstar,” Tommy tells you with a wink.

“Thanks,” you tell him with a smile and take a deep breath.

You hear a familiar gentle pattering of drums as you make your way onto the stage.

White Rabbit.

You’re grateful for a song you know well as you begin to slink around the pole, your movements becoming more sensual as the song progresses.

You strip your little sage green dress off, tossing it toward the heavy red curtain for easy retrieval. The men sitting stage side begin to hold their bills out, beckoning you to come closer.

You slink toward them and sink to the stage floor, pushing your breasts together and leaving toward them as you collect their bills. You writhe your body, arching your back and displaying your curves. They stare at you like hungry, wild animals. There was only one man you wanted to stare at you like that though and he seemed utterly disinterested.

Shifting your eyes, you scan the room until you settle on Joel’s unmoving figure. The breath you take hitches in your throat when your gaze meet his.

The song fades into another 60s psychedelic tune. You return to the center of the stage, spinning deftly around the cold, silver pole. You close your eyes and channel your insatiable lust for the hot and cold man you’ve quickly become obsessed with.

Each time you sneak a peek in Joel’s direction you find his eyes on you. He looks away when you catch him now. With regained confidence, you dance across the stage, attracting more men to come up and hand you money.

Your set is close to wrapping up and when you take another glance in Joel’s direction he’s nowhere to be found.

Amber waits for you to make your way through the curtain she holds open, waiting for you to duck through it, her signature stage smile plastered on her perfectly made up face. She gives you a friendly wink as you move past her.

“Knew that’d get him,” Tommy mutters with a soft chuckle as you walk past. Your head whips toward him, eyes impossibly wide.

“He told you?” you hiss, craning your neck behind you, assuring no one was around to hear you.

“Didn’t have to, he can’t hide shit from me,” Tommy admits with a smirk.

You hadn’t expected to interact with Tommy so you were clutching your dress to your bare chest to keep a semblance of modesty, as if he hadn’t just been feet from your mostly naked dancing body.

“Don’t worry darlin’, secret’s safe with me,” he assures, miming zipping his lips and tossing the key.

You don’t say anything more before turning and heading into the dressing room. You put your dress back on and freshen up a bit before returning to the floor.

Joel stays in his office for a while, the bouncer taking over in keeping an eye on the girls and collecting dance fees. You hadn’t interacted with him much, he was a quiet, foreboding presence. He was younger and larger than Joel but you felt much safer when it was Joel keeping a watchful eye on the club. Most strip club managers you had interacted with were sleazy, greedy assholes who didn’t give a fuck about any of the girls. Joel was so different from them. You wondered what lead him down this path.

-

You tried your hardest to fake enthusiasm toward the dull men you spoke with, earning yourself a few more dances than you had earlier in the evening.

Joel finally emerged from his office as the night was coming to an end. Every other dancer was hustling like no tomorrow, either in a private dance room or working hard to get there before the night ended. You, however, couldn’t be bothered. You were done talking to boring assholes, only wanting to give your time to one man.

Sucking a breath in to gather courage, you made your way to where Joel was standing.

“I forgot to fill out that paperwork, need me to do that tonight?” you ask coyly, looking up at him.

“No, I found it. You’re all set.”

You try to conceal your disappoint but undoubtedly fail. “Oh. Okay, great.”

You feel your face grow hot and your throat tighten a bit.

You are not fucking crying in the club, you think harshly.

There’s a half hour left in the night. You could leave early but Joel would know why and you refused to give him that.

You see a man sitting alone and decide to approach him.

“I’m horny and a little angry and just need someone between my legs right now. Can that be you?”

The man looks at you with a bewildered expression, taken aback by your blunt question. “Uh y-yeah,” he stammers out. “How much for the rest of the night?”

“Three fifty,” you respond sweetly.

He pulls the bills out of his wallet, handing you four hundred even. You put it away, if he wants

his change he can ask.

You saunter up to Joel and hand him the clubs cut before leading the man back to the private room.

“Here are my rules,” you tell him before you begin. “You don’t touch me, I touch you. If you’re good, I might put your hands on my body, but they will not stray from where I allow. All clear?”

“Yes,” he responds eagerly, hands locked at his sides.

You’re a little more gratuitous with your movements in the VIP rooms, secluded little spaces for those who pay a premium price. You slither up and down his body to the beat of the music, rolling your hips over the erection straining in his pants. You close your eyes and imagine it’s Joel’s. You were hurt by his words but there was no question that picturing him made dancing for other men much more enjoyable. Though this man was dwarfed by Joel in every sense, so your imagination could only do so much.

After a few songs, you take the man’s hands from their locked position on either side of him, bringing them to rest on your hips. They slowly begin to slide up the curve of your waist and you shoot him a warning look. Half hour dances were a bit of a pain to give, but you had long since perfected the art of building the tension to keep it titillating. Give too much at once and men become over eager, trying to take more than you allow.

You eventually tire of his hands at your hips and slide them up your waist like he had tried before. You let them settle cupping the underside of your breasts. You didn’t mind the flesh being cupped or squeezed but you absolutely hated a customer touching your nipples. Not many men were allowed to touch your breasts at all in the club but with what this man had paid and how well he was complying with your rules, you decided to allow him this.

You softly bounced your ass on his lap until you heard the tell tale knock on the wall beside you, Joel letting you know you had completed your time allotment.

“Well that was fun,” you tell the man as you dress yourself. “Thank you for seeing the evening through with me.”

“Pleasure was all mine, sweetheart,” he tells you with a polite nod.

“Yeah, I could tell,” you say with a wink.

The club is mostly empty as you make your way back to the dressing room, your dance having extended a hair past close. You feel the urge to take use of the shower. They were the nicest you’ve seen at club, completely private and felt almost closer to one you would find in someone’s home.

“Does anyone mind if I take a shower?” you ask the room out if courtesy. It was common for seniority to be somewhat of a hierarchy in strip clubs, and as the new girl it had always proved to be smarter to respect it. It’s a rough line of work and dancers tend to have the backs of who they know, regardless of reason.

No one responds but a couple girls shake their head ‘no’ so you make your way toward the closest of the two.

“I’d need a cold shower too if Joel looked at me like that,” Tiffany quips, earning a huff of agreement from another dancer who doesn’t bother looking up.

“I’m taking a hot shower because I haven’t done this shit in years and I’m in pain,” you manage to retort, figuring any sort of denial would be too obvious.

You shut the door behind you and lock it, relieved at the first ounce of privacy you’ve had all night. Digging the travel sized soaps out of your bag, you turn to switch on the stream of water.

The smell of your body wash wash melds with the steam, forming a soothing cloud around you. You wash and condition your hair slowly, outside world gone for a fleeting moment.

You know you can’t stay in there forever though so you shut the water off and finally realize that you don’t have a towel.

“Hello?” You cry out. “Is anyone still here?”

No one responds so you brace yourself for the awful feeling of getting dressed while sopping wet.

You know one person is still here, a voice sings in the back of your mind.

Before you can talk yourself out if it you call Joel, who answers on the second ring.

“Are you ok?” he asks in a concerned voice.

“Fine. Forgot a towel. Are there any spares?”

“Uh, yeah,” he answers with a quiet cough.

“I’m in the first bathroom if you’d be so kind.”

“Sure,” he mutters before hanging up the phone.

It’s not long before you hear a knock on the door.

“It’s open,” you call. It wasn’t like Joel hasn’t seen all of you already.

But he still only reaches an arm in, towel hanging from a large hand. You let out a soft sigh, missing the way those hands felt on your body, as your wet feet slap across the floor.

“Thanks,” you mutter, grabbing the towel.

“Sure,” he replies curtly before quickly shutting the door.

You towel your body off and catch a whiff of it as you bring it to your hair. You briefly bury your nose into the soft cotton. It was definitely Joel’s towel, not just one hanging around the club. Imagining it wrapped around his large frame had you melting a little.

You changed into loose cotton shorts and a t-shirt, leaving the dressing room with damp hair.

You make your way toward the office, your house fee and Joel’s towel in each hand.

“Thanks for the rescue,” you tell him, handing over the money. “Want me to wash this?”

“No that’s fine,” he tells you, grabbing the damp material from you.

“So are we going to pretend like nothing happened?” you ask, trying to keep an even tone. “It’s fine if that’s what you want, I just want to be on the same page.”

“I don’t want that,” he answers to your surprise.

“Then what do you want?”

Joel pauses for a moment. “I’d like to be balls deep in you right about now if we’re bein’ honest here, honey.”

“So what’s stopping you?” you ask innocently, playing with your damp hair.

“You’re young enough to be my daughter, for one,” he mutters. “And I’m your boss, I don’t want you feeling pressured into anything.”

“You’re my boss like three times a month,” you remind him. “I don’t feel pressured at all. Just come sit down with me, we don’t have to do anything, but we can see where it goes.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fuckin’ customer,” he snaps, finishing the sentence with a pointed use of your real name.

“Not trying to,” you say, raising your hands.

Before you can register it, he’s grabbing you by one of your wrists and dragging you back to the lavish bottle service area. The red lights of the club are still on, casting Joel in a devilish glow.

He’s still got a vice grip on your wrist as he pulls you into his chest, dipping down to capture your lips in a hard kiss. You open your mouth, wanting more. Without waiting, he thrusts his tongue in, sending a wave of intense need for him through your body.

Joel shoves his hand behind the waistband of your shorts, running a finger up your slit.

“Jesus Christ, how are you already so wet?” he asks breathlessly, slowly running his finger through your folds with feather light pressure.

“Please,” you whine, squeezing your thighs together to force his hand to make deeper contact.

“I don’t think so, little girl,” he growls, ripping his hand away. “You wanna fuck a man old enough to be your daddy?”

“Yes, sir,” you say breathlessly. “Please.”

“Then you best behave,” he warns, wrapping his slick fingers firmly around your throat. “You take what I give you, and only what I give you, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you repeat.

“Get undressed and lie down,” he commands.

You quickly toss your loose top and shorts off, naked underneath. You make your way to the long, black leather couch and lie on your back, watching Joel with wide eyes.

“That’s my good little slut,” he hums, palming his erection imprisoned in his pants.

He makes his way over to you, his eyes raking down your naked figure with an intense fire behind them. You just barely part your legs, silently begging to be touched.

“You that desperate to be touched?” he asks with a smirk.

You nod your head, widening your legs a little more with a slight arch of your back.

“Go on then, touch yourself.”

You let out a small huff but do as he says, running your hand over your wet lips just as Joel had before. You circle your clit as you take in his brooding figure looming over you, drenched in the dim red lighting.

“Feel good?” he asks, undoing his belt.

“Not as good as you, sir,” you admit.

“Oh I know, baby,” he taunts, placing his belt on the low, glass table in front do you. “You wanna see Daddy’s cock? Will that make it feel better?”

“Yes, please,” you pant. He stays motionless, staring down at you expectantly. “Yes, daddy, please let me see it.”

“Since you asked so sweetly.”

Joel undoes his pants, pulling them down with his underwear, just enough to let his massive cock spring free. You feel another rush of wetness, dripping down onto the couch below you.

He begins to slowly stroke his cock, nearly hypnotizing you. The feeling of touching yourself does in fact feel better as you watch Joel pleasure himself.

“You wanna get daddy’s dick a little wet?” He asks.

You gather the wetness between your legs with four fingers, holding them inches from Joel’s cock. “Like this?”

“Like that, sweetheart,” he assures you.

You start at his dark pink tip, closing your hand around him before working your way down, reveling at the ridge his large head creates as it meets his tan shaft, anxious to finally feel it inside you. Your hand reaches the dark hair at the base his shaft and you pull your hand upward.

He grabs you by the wrist, pulling your hand off of him. “Did I say you could do more than wet it?”

“No, sir,” you reply a little nervously, wondering if he’ll punish you for the small transgression.

“Hold your hands above your head,” he commands.

You do as he says, watching as he kneels between your parted thighs. He starts stroking himself again, eyeing your glistening pussy.

You ache for his touch, feeling absurdly empty and your walls tightening in desperation.

“Is it hurting yet?” he asks, as if reading your mind. Or your pussy, rather.

“Yes, daddy,” you answer. “I need you.”

“I know you do, baby.” Joel brushes his fingertips down your thigh, a shudder leaving your body. He glides his fingers around your outer lips, teasing you cruelly.

“Please, daddy, what do you want me to do?” you beg, hoping he takes pity on you and gives you something, anything.

“You’re doing exactly what I want, baby girl. You’re being so good,” he says softly.

Joel continues running his fingers over your body, tormenting you with light touches. He ghosts over your nipples and you arch your back into his touch.

“You tryna take more again?” he asks, taking his hand away.

“No, daddy,” you respond, shaking your head.

“And now you’re lying? You were being so good,” he admonishes with a click of his tongue.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to,” you whimper.

“You wanna be such a desperate slut for my touch, I’ll give it to you,” he growls, his lips curling into a combination of a smirk and a snarl. He pulls his hand back before bringing it down on your cunt, the wet slap echoing through the empty club.

You cry out in pain and pleasure, relishing the brief and rough touch.

Before you can register his movements, you feel Joel slam two fingers into your aching pussy, the pads of his fingers massaging the sensitive part just past your entrance as he sets a brutal pace.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, writhing below him. “Please, daddy, I need more. Need your cock. Please,” you babble, your eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

“Can’t do that, baby,” he grunts. “Take it or leave it.”

“Why not?” you whine, surprised that he doesn’t stop fucking you with his fingers at your petulance.

“Don’t got condoms here,” he says gruffly.

“I’m clean and on the pill,” you assure him. “I haven’t had sex in nearly a year and I got tested six months ago.”

“God damn it,” he grunts, getting off the couch. “Why the fuck can’t I say no to you?”

You watch in awe as he strips before you, taking in his fully naked form for the first time. His shoulders and chest matched his strong, muscled arms, a smattering of hair sprinkled across his chest, becoming more dense down his abdomen and meeting the bush of dark hair that settled at the base of his immaculate cock. His torso had a bit of a softness to it and you loved it, the physique of a real man.

“You look so good, daddy,” you pant, your eyes unable to settle on any one part of him. “I want you so bad.”

“Turn over,” he commands.

You do as your told, spreading your knees as wide as they can go on the couch and laying your forearms out in front of you.

Joel grabs one of your ass cheeks roughly before smacking it. “Good girl.”

He settles behind you and lines himself up, sinking into you with a single, hard thrust.

You hear him grunt behind you as he sets a brutal pace, his balls slapping perfectly against your clit with each pump.

The sounds of your moans and his body roughly slamming into you reverberate throughout the club like a new, filthy set list.

You peek over your shoulder to get a look at him. The coil in your belly tightens as you take in his large hands gripping your hips tightly, pulling you back to deepen his thrusts, the muscles in his arms flexing with each move.

His thrusts stutter as he repositions himself slightly, keeping one knee on the couch and bringing the other one up as he puts his foot beside your arm, giving himself better leverage. He regains his unforgiving pace, hitting somehow deeper within you. You arch your back even more, somewhat painfully, to try and take him all in.

You watch as his large, hairy calf flexes with each move. The position brought something feral out of you, feeling completely dominated by this man, claiming you as his even if just for this moment.

He pulls out of you and you gasp from the sudden loss of him. He manhandles you, flipping you back into your original position on the couch. He leans down and finds your entrance with the head of his cock, pushing it in and filling you to the brim.

He rests his weight in his forearms, snapping his hips into yours, angling his thrusts upwards. You cry out and grasp his firm biceps. The stimulation of your clit and upper wall of your cunt almost too much to bare.

It doesn’t take long before you feel the intense pleasure of your ecstasy climbing to a peak.

You look up at him, his brows furrowed and forehead beaded with sweat. His dark eyes lock with yours, adding to the ascent.

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum,” you tell Joel in a breathy whimper.

“You wanna ask nicely, baby?” he grunts back.

“Can I please cum on your cock, daddy?” you beg, unsure if you can hold your orgasm off any longer.

“Good girl,” he groans, screwing his eyes shut with an intense focus. “Cum all over daddy’s cock. Let me feel it.”

Joel doesn’t falter, keeping his pace even to bring you over the edge.

You clench down around him, feeling the intense release wash over you. He continues to thrust into you, riding your orgasm out for as long as it will last. When you finally begin to come down, breathing slowing and muscles relaxing, Joel lets himself seek his own release.

He thrusts just a few more times before pulling out and cumming immediately with a loud moan.

He strokes his cock as he paints your soft skin with hot semen, until it’s only seeping out, covering his knuckles.

“I’ll be right back,” he says before exiting the room, leaving you lying naked and covered in his cum.

He returns with the towel he had lent you, fist wiping between your legs. The damp towel is cool and soothes your sensitive skin as he cleans you. He finishes wiping your stomach down thoroughly before folding the mess into the center and setting the towel down.

You both redress in a calm silence, at ease now that you had finally fully experienced one another.

Joel walks you out to your car, once again making you promise to text him when you’re home safe.

Your thoughts are somehow both calm and racing as your drive home.

You worried that he would resent you for pressuring him into fucking without a condom, even when he was the one worried about pressuring you.

Would he want to see you again? Or did he just need to scratch an itch?

You felt like it was more than that, but he was a difficult man to read.

You finally make it home and pull your phone out to text Joel.

You: Home safe.

Your phone buzzes in response after less than a minute.

Joel: Thanks for letting me know.

Joel: And for tonight.

Your heart fluttered as you read his simple but sweet texts.

You: Anytime

Casual, you think, but conveying willingness to see him again.

Joel: Somewhere other than the club maybe? Not that I mind cleaning your cum off the couch, but I’d rather just change my sheets.

Your whole body vibrates with happiness at the thought of Joel wanting you to come to his place. At his place.

You: I’d like that.

[hexidous]

This gif I accidentally added while setting up for S&S part III gave me an… interesting idea

Reader might get a train run on her. Whoops.

Silk and Sweat part III will be posted tomorrow at the latest. Read part I and II if you haven’t yet! Stripper reader and manager Joel can’t ignore the sexual tension.

Series Masterlist

[hexidous]

An appreciation post that Joel Miller’s big dick is not just a head cannon

[hexidous]

Summary: After years of working toward establishing a career, you still struggle to live comfortably on your own. You decide to try dancing again but are thrown for a loop when you meet your new boss.

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Part I- Silk and Sweat

Part II- Pretty As You Feel

Part III- Echos

[hexidous]

Wow I love this, good morning to me 🫠

Me: What would happen if I slowed *that moment* down...

Me: 👀👀👀 And um...what if I, um, looped it?

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵 I...am having THOTS...and thinking about...SITUATIONS...and I... 😵‍💫

Pedro Pascal as Joel Miller in The Last of Us, HBO (Episode 9)

[hexidous]

Pretty As You Feel

Part II to Silk and Sweat. I highly recommend reading part I for context.

Series Masterlist

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Summary: You find yourself back at the club Joel manages and try your best to seem unafflicted. As hard as you try, you may end up playing it a little too cool.

Warnings: Depictions of stripping, general adult content, oral sex, fingering, spitting, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, the holy trifecta, praise Joelsus

Word count: 4.4k

-

Slowly sinking down into the epsom salt bath you drew, you feel your tense muscles begin to relax in the hot water.

You imagine Joel behind you, enveloped in his strong embrace. His touch lingered on your skin, your nerves still whirring from his strong hands.

Enough, you think.

You had a rough night and he helped you get through it. Nothing more.

Unfortunately, you were used to men feeling entitled to your body because you chose to put it on display. They pay for a show and get angry when they want more.

When you were young and new to the life, you developed your own mantra to cope with the way you were treated.

What happens to Starla doesn’t happen to you.

What happens to Starla doesn’t happen to you.

You repeat it over and over, distancing yourself from the woman you pretend to be.

It works when it’s a random, rowdy customer causing you to question whether or not the money is worth the shit you put up with. It doesn’t work with Joel.

The way his face contorted into disgust and rage as he pulled that pathetic man off you flashes behind your eyes as you try to relax. How he beat a man bloody for you with ease, seeming to be holding back still.

You think of his face donning a similarly intense look, possibly indecipherable out of context, as he slammed his thick fingers into your desperate cunt.

Joel was a man no little mantra could force out of your head.

-

You mindlessly worked on whatever jobs came in, the days coming and going in a dull blur. A week went by and you had only petty design jobs coming in, alongside the occasional copywriting gig you’d pick up eagerly.

It wasn’t enough to pay the bills.

You trudged through five thousand words about cooling units and designed a logo for a shitty tech start up before calling it a day. Well, your day called itself because you didn’t have any more work to do.

“You got any rent money this month?” You ask the bemused cat laying on your desk, stopping mid lick of her belly to stare at you. “No? Shocking.”

You scratch behind her little ear before getting up from your chair. “I guess only one pussy is bringing home some money tonight.”

You start to put a bag together, rifling through folded dresses.

Which one would Joel like the most? You find yourself asking.

He strikes you as a man who likes a tasteful woman, not one eagerly putting everything on display. Obviously you didn’t have any modest dresses to wear, but you opted to toss in a few of the less skimpy ones.

Trying to breathe through your nerves, you watch as the bright red sign comes into your view. You park off to the side and grab your bag, clutching the strap tightly.

Play it cool, you warn yourself.

You greet the host at the front desk as you walk past her. You arrive a little later this time, the club already bustling with movement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got superstar Starla in the house tonight,” Tommy teases in his sultry club DJ affectation.

Joel’s head snaps up from the clipboard he’s holding. You smile and shake your head at him with a roll of your eyes, conveying your disbelief over Tommy’s silliness.

“Glad you decided to come back,” he tells you as you pass by his preferred spot on the floor, tucked away between the bottle service section and private dance room.

“My bank account didn’t give me much of a choice,” you half joke with a shrug before heading to the dressing room.

You don’t feel the need to find an isolated section this time. You take a seat at one of the many chairs lined up facing the stretch of illuminated mirrors. A couple other girls are seated along the row and a few flitter behind you, going to their lockers or on and off stage.

You slip your clothes off, folding them neatly and setting them on the counter.

The dress you decided on for the evening was short and black with long sleeves. The top came down to just low enough to tease at your cleavage. The dress was tighter on you than it used to be, but it hugged your curves nicely. There wasn’t room for a bra beneath it, but the back of it looked much better without one. It was a thick lace pattern, tightly woven flowers and loops dancing down your back, coming to a V-shape at the lowest point of your back. You strapped on some matching black shoes, grabbed your wristlet, and stashed everything else away in your locker.

You make your way through the narrow dressing room and walk up a few stairs leading to the hallway behind the stage, ending with the DJ booth.

“Ready for my spotlight,” you tell Tommy, poking your head into his booth.

“Here’s my superstar!” He bellows happily. “The night can finally begin.”

“Do I have to pay you up front to not torment me?” You joke.

“That was just a little first day hazin’,” he assures with a sly grin.

You turn from his booth and walk back down the dimly lit hallway, toward the pulsing red light of the club.

You exit just beside the stage, taking a good look at the dancer occupying it. She’s naturally brunette with blonde bangs and chunky highlights. Her face dons multiple piercings, one at the center of her bottom lip, a stud on her high cheekbone, settling like a sparkly little tear, and many in her ears. Her tattoos were all black and ornate, slithering across her body, perfect with her fluid, sensual movements.

You take your eyes away and head to the bar, turning slightly to continue to watch the dancer on stage.

Tommy’s voice dwarfs the song playing as it reaches an end. “Give it up for the fine, the feral, the absolutely fierce Fiona!” He bellows enthusiastically. “Now don’t be too scared gentlemen, she don’t bite… much.”

You’re ready for your first drink so you wave to the first man you see walk through the club like an old friend.

“I feel like it would be hard to forget a face so beautiful,” he says, putting a hand on the back of your chair. “But I’m terribly sorry to say I don’t remember you.”

“Oh you don’t know me,” you admit, pretending to look bashful. “But I’m new here and wanted someone to talk to.”

“Well I am honored you chose me,” he says politely before holding out his hand. “David.”

“Starla,” you tell him, shaking his hand softly.

“Oh come on, honey, I know your name ain’t Starla.”

“Look where you are, David,” you poke. “What did you expect? For me to say, ‘Hi, I’m Annie Mae, just a simple girl lookin’ for a husband.”

“Shit, you got me there,” he says after a beat, holding his hands up and feigning surrender. “So, you want a drink, Annie Mae?”

“Why, I’d love one.”

-

You don’t rush things with David, you know you’re not far off in rotation and it would be nice to have someone stage side for you.

Sure enough, you hear Tommy call you up for the next song as he transitions the music.

“Come see me up there?” You ask as you finish your drink and grab your small sequined clutch.

“Of course, darlin’,” he promises with a smile.

You take long strides to the DJ booth,

“Hey,” you say, getting Tommy’s attention. He turns to you but you cut him off before he can deliver whatever cheesy line he’s churning. “I know it’s not typical strip club music, but can you play Jefferson Airplane’s Somebody to Love?”

“Oh, my brother will love you for that,” he tells you. You cock your head, wondering if his brother was in the crowd, maybe David, but don’t think much of it as he starts to call you up.

“Alright gentlemen, get ready for the sensational, sensual, downright sinful… Starla!”

You take your cue and fling the curtain back dramatically as soon as the song begins.

You know the song well, adjusting your movements from soft and flowing to harsh and abrupt as the melody changes.

You climb the pole deftly before snaking around it and then finally dropping down down into a split on the floor.

Your eyes, I say, your eyes may look like his

You swing your leg around to face the small crowd and bend your knee slightly. You’ve got one hand gripping the pole beside you for leverage as you arch your back and lift your ass, rolling your pelvis slowly. David’s eyes are locked on you. Your gaze moves to the left, unable to help yourself.

Joel’s eyes are locked on you too.

You don’t break your stare until you see David making his way toward you. He sits beside he stage and you crawl toward him, flipping your hair dramatically before rising to your knees, playfully toying with your breasts. You shimmy your hips and bounce up and down like you’re riding an invisible ecock. He slips a twenty in the waistband of your thong as you hold it out. You snap it back and give him a wink.

You casually turn your head toward Joel and find him still staring. Your heart rate picks up, despite already thumping hard from your dancing. He had never watched you so brazenly.

You finish your song and thank David. You try to focus on steady breathing, fluid movements, and not looking back at Joel.

A few more men come up to tip you, though not quite as generously, until finally your set ends.

“I told you he’d like it,” Tommy jeers from his booth. You walk toward him, quickly throwing your dress back on and adjusting your suffocating tits.

“Who?” You finally get to ask. “David?”

“No,” he scoffs. “Joel. Didn’t know he was my brother?”

“Huh. I guess not,” you say in a flat voice, trying not to give hint to any emotion.

“Well you did the song justice. He doesn’t usually watch the girls on stage.”

You try not to blush or seem like you care at all, giving a quick, “Hmm.”

“Probably just zoning out, thinking about getting high in the basement while our parents were at work. I’d hear that shit blasting all the time,” he says with a laugh.

Your stomach drops. Maybe he hasn’t been staring at all, just lost in thought. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

“I used to barge in, asking him why his room smelled so bad," Tommy laughs. "He'd get so mad, moodier than any teen girl."

You smile at the thought of Joel as an angsty teen. "Well I better get back. Think I got something real special with Dave out there."

"Get 'em, superstar," he calls out as you walk away.

-

You get a few dances out of David. He tries to get your number or buy you another drink, but you decline.

When you emerge from the private dance room, you're not really sure where to land next. It's slim pickings with most of the men already occupied.

You hear your stage name called by one of the girls sitting at a table of dancers. You walk over and sit down at an empty seat.

“It is Starla, right?” A pretty brunette asks. You nod in response. “I’m Tiffany.”

You exchange pleasantries with the women. You’d known almost all of their names already, it was easy when you heard Tommy announcing them every 10 minutes. But it was nice getting to know them, feeling like less of an outsider.

You chatted casually with the group, tipping them off to the still seated man you had just danced with.

“He just wants to think he has a chance in hell,” you scoff. “Easy money.”

One of the girls, a petite woman named Amber, stands up from her seat and makes her way over to him.

“God damn Joel looks sexy tonight,” Tiffany huffs from across the table, her eyes settling just over your shoulder. “He doesn’t even have to fuck me. Just spit on me. Anything.”

Tiffany notices your silence among the other girls agreement and calls you out.

“You seriously don’t think so?” She asks incredulously.

“I mean, he’s alright,” you lie.

“Right, you’re into Tommy,” she prods teasingly.

“No I’m not,” you scoff.

“He’s fun, but he’s easy,” Tiffany laments. “Joel is a challenge and fuck if I don’t love a good challenge.”

You try to quell the jealousy that begins to brew in your gut.

“Tommy will fuck anyone and Fiona will fight anyone,” another girl says with a laugh.

“They’re fucking but not exclusive,” Tiffany explains. “Doesn’t stop Fiona from losing her shit though.”

“Remember when Valerie blew him in the DJ booth? Bitch went full Monday Night RAW,” a tan, dark haired woman called Raven recounts, evoking laughter from the small group.

“You might want to keep it on the low, Starla,” Tiffany warns. “Fiona’s already caught whiff of you two.”

“Hand to god, nothin’ to smell,” you swear. You weren’t eager for Fiona to hate you but you were comfortable knowing no one had any idea of your infatuation for Joel.

“He’s got a nice dick,” Raven says with a shrug, a couple girls nodding in agreement.

“Before Mary Jane left she told me that Tommy is big but Joel is huge,” Tiffany admits. “Lucky bitch.”

Your cheeks run hot again as you picture Joel’s intimidatingly large bulge inches from your face. You also can’t help but angrily think who the fuck is Mary Jane?

“Well this has been informative, thank you ladies,” you tell the group as you rise from your seat. “But I better go find someone who’ll help my poor landlord pay off his Ferrari.”

-

The night is winding down to a late end. You hear Tommy play Closing Time as he tells the customers they don’t have to go home but they can’t stay here. It seems very on brand.

“Starla,” you hear Joel’s deep voice call to you. Your pulse quickens and skin becomes tingly from the mere sound of your stage name on his tongue. He continues once you step closer, “I must have tossed your paperwork by accident. Can you hang back for a bit?”

“Yeah, sure,” you tell him, unsure why it couldn’t wait another day. Not that you mind.

You’re slow to get everything together, taking your time organizing your bills and bag. It may just be missing paperwork, but you wanted the club to be empty on the off chance something more may happen. You give it another minute after the last girl leaves the dressing room before making your way to Joel’s office.

You knock lightly on the open door to announce your presence. He turns around and stares at you with an intense look written across his handsome face.

“You wanna suck my cock?” He asks, his demeanor taking a 180 since he last spoke to you.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah,” you reply, stunned. “I really do.”

“Tommy seems to think you wanna suck his,” his gravely voice speaks with a snarl. “That true, too? You just another slut tryna fuck every man who won’t pay you for it?”

“Nope,” you reply cooly, forcing your tone to stay even as your heart tries to escape your chest. “Just a slut who can’t stop thinking of you every time she makes herself cum.”

“Christ,” he mutters, running a palm over his growing cock. Your rapid heartbeat moves lower.

“May I?” You ask innocently, taking a tentative step forward.

“No,” he barks. You take a startled step backward.

He stands up and closes the distance between you two, towering over you now that your seven inch heels are replaced by a pair of comfy slip ons. His broad chest heaves as he stares down at you, the look in his eyes almost scaring you.

Joel brushes past you, leaving you alone in his office.

“Anyone here?” He bellows out to the empty club.

He’s met with silence so you follow him out.

“Wait here,” he tells you as he walks toward the club entrance. You hear the heavy lock fall into place.

Your head is swimming with anticipaion as he stalks back to you. Hell, your panties are too.

“Move,” he commands, pointing to the bottle service area. You do as he says, walking up the few stairs that lead to the semi private area.

The open facing entrance had the trademark red silk curtains strung open. Joel pulls them closed, leaving only the light filtering through the top of the curtains and three quarter wall to illuminate the small area.

“Alright,” he says, facing you. He rubs his hand over the thick cock straining against his pants. “Y’say you want it so damn bad, better make me believe it.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, biting your lip with anticipation as you take him in.

“Excuse me?” He says with a cocked brow, bringing his hands to his hips.

“I will,” you assure in a breathy voice. His brow stays cocked. “Sir,” you add meekly.

“Atta girl,” he says, his gravelly voice sending chills down your spine.

You slowly sink to your knees before him, looking up to meet his dark gaze.

Your hands shake as you bring them up to undo his belt. You don’t think you’ve been this nervous in front of a man since you were a teenager.

You reach into his soft, elastic boxer briefs and grasp his heavy cock, barely able to fit your hand all the way around it.

Your eyes widen as you take him in. His cock is literally mouthwatering. You press your tongue flat against his thick head, precum already beading at the top. You let your pooling saliva run down his shaft before tracing your tongue over the vein that runs down the length of it. You pump his dick slowly with one hand and while sliding his underwear down further, freeing his balls. You duck your head low and bring them into your mouth, gently licking at them.

You hear Joel groan quietly from above you. You look up to find him peering down at you. “Such a good girl,” he says breathlessly.

His praise sends warmth through your entire body. You return your mouth to his cock but gently cup his sensitive scrotum, squeezing lightly. Your jaw feels tight trying to fit his entirety into your mouth without accidentally scraping your teeth against him.

You remember Tiffany’s words from earlier and think how you love a good challenge too. Especially ones that paid off.

You feel the head of Joel’s cock reach the back of your throat and you gag a little before forcing a deep breath in through your nose. You do your best to relax as he starts to thrust his hips up into you, meeting your eager movements. Your free hand grips him at the base, gliding in time with your mouth. You use your thumb to add pressure to the underside of his dick, mirroring the action with your tongue as well.

Moans are escaping with his deep breaths. You look up again and see his eyes clenched shut and his mouth agape. The way his brows furrow and lips curl into a snarl the same way when he was enraged and aroused turns you on endlessly.

You quicken your pace, aching to feel him come undone.

“Wait,” he says weakly, getting closer. “Stop, stop, stop,” he pleads in quick succession.

But you can’t. You’re too drunk off his pleasure to ever quit.

His orgasm spills over, unleashing hot spurts of cum onto your tongue. You swallow him without hesitation.

You tilt your head up, pleased with yourself, but he’s not blissed out like you were hoping.

He seems… angry. Or turned on still. It was really fucking hard to tell.

“Thought I told you to stop,” he snaps.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mewl.

“Sorry,” he scoffs. “Get up.”

You stand to face him, searching for something other than anger in his expression. He grabs you by the back of your hair, yanking back roughly. You let out a gasp.

“Since ya like swallowing so damn much.” You watch in awe as he spits directly in your open mouth. It partially paints your puffy, sensitive lip. “There you go.”

You swallow his saliva, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. It’s ironically the closest thing you’ve had to a kiss with him.

“Don’t I get a thank you?” He half questions, half demands in a harsh tone.

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him softly, giving your best innocent doe eyes.

“I guess you didn’t want my cock buried in that pretty pussy, huh?” He taunts.

“I want it so bad,” you whine, “but I wanted to make you feel good.”

His expression softens. “You did, baby,” he says, moving his hand to cup your cheek.

Your heart swells at the pet name and newfound tenderness.

Joel moves his hand again to lift your dress and dip past the waistline of your panties.

“So wet from sucking my cock,” he hums. “I should just leave you like this. Aching for me.”

You don’t want to beg but you shake your head quickly.

“You need to be punished somehow, sweetheart.”

“However you want,” you pant desperately.

His eyes fall on the couch behind you. He takes a few steps before turning to sit on it. He extends a hand out to you.

Tentatively, you make your way toward him. He holds your hand in his as you stand between his open legs, feeling a shyness take over.

“Over my knee, baby,” he tells you.

You turn to the side and bend forward until your hips are resting on his strong thigh and your forearms are resting on the couch. Joel yanks your underwear down swiftly.

Before you can brace yourself you hear a loud smack and feel the sharp sting of his hand. You hiss through your teeth, wondering how many more you have left.

He slaps his hand down again in the same spot, causing you to yelp this time. As he continues, the pain begins to mix with pleasure. You keep yourself from rubbing against his thigh without his permission.

He delivers another blow and you moan loudly. “Fuck, Da-“

“Say it,” he coaxes. “Who am I?” He asks with another sharp slap.

“Daddy!” You cry out, tears threatening to spill over.

He lands one more smack before switching to a soft caress. Your skin is so sensitive, it sends a harsh shiver through your body.

“Your ass looks so pretty covered in my handprints, baby,” he says, continuing to run his fingers lightly over the reddened skin. “You did so good for me.”

“I’m sorry you had to punish me, Daddy,” you sniffle, the tears finally coming down.

“Come here,” he tells you, repositioning your body to face him, straddling his thighs. You study his face in the dim lighting. His eyes always looked a little pained, you realize. Deep set lines etched themselves in his forehead over the heads, softer ones around his eyes. Your gaze wandered over his prominent nose and strong jaw, covered in graying, patchy scruff. He’s not your usual type and yet you couldn’t think of a man you’d ever found more attractive. Your eyes landed on his full lips, dying to kiss them.

He doesn’t leave you wanting for long, closing the gap between your faces. His lips felt somehow softer than they looked against yours. You part your mouth eagerly and he takes no time to enter your mouth. His tongue expertly licks at yours. You moan desperately into his kiss, grinding your drenched pussy into his half hard cock.

“Please,” you beg him.

He chuckles gently at you. “You’re expecting an old man to fuck like a teenager.”

You let out a huff, wishing you had listened to him.

“I won’t leave you hanging, sweetheart.” He brings his hand down between you, rubbing your clit with his thumb for a moment before pushing two thick fingers into you with ease. “But you gotta get yourself off this time.”

You start slow, dizzy with lust as you move yourself up and down on his fingers. He curls them slightly, hitting your sweet spot perfectly.

“That feel good, baby?” He purrs.

“So good, Daddy,” you answer, quickening your pace and grinding down on his palm.

He brings his free hand up, pulling the straps down on your dress. He ducks his head down and his mouth is at your chest, surely salty from sweat. He licks and kisses over your breasts before dragging his nose up your neck, inhaling your musk.

The simple movement send you that much closer to the edge, the pleasure threatening to bubble over at at moment. You chase your release, bouncing and grinding on Joel’s hand while you think about the orgasm you gave him moments ago. The twisting coil in your center comes free as you cum on his fingers with a loud cry.

“Good girl,” he praises in a strained whisper before planting a warm kiss on your forehead.

You come down from your high with shaky breaths. He takes his fingers away, wiping them on his already ruined pants.

You throw your arms over his shoulders and bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, trying to burn it into your memory.

He lets you stay that way for a while, running his hand up and down your back.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs in your ear. “We gotta go.”

You hate that you have to leave. You would sleep at the club if it meant spending more time with Joel. But you relent, climbing off his lap and retrieving your underwear.

Joel is first to exit the room, you follow slowly behind and see him emerge from his office with your bag in his hand. You hold your arm out to take it but he ignores your gesture, carrying it for you as he walks you to your car.

Yours and his are the only two left in the lot, well beyond close.

“Text me when you get home,” he tells you, giving you your bag back.

He pulls his phone out and hands it to you for you to put your number in. You enter it in alongside your real name and save the contact.

“I will,” you promise. “Goodnight, Joel.”

He bids you goodnight with another kiss on the forehead.

It’s late and you are beyond exhausted when you reach your apartment. You pull your phone out and see one new message from an unknown number.

Joel Miller

You smile, and send him a quick text back.

Home.

[hexidous]

Man I’m struggling out here tryna write something sexy when there’s literally no enticing word for a man’s balls

[hexidous]

Silk and Sweat

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Summary: Your apartment in the city is getting too expensive, so you pick up a side job as a stripper. When a customer gets handsy with you, the club manager Joel comes to your rescue.

Warnings: No use of Y/N but you do have a stage name. No depictions of reader’s physical appearance. Reader late 20s, Joel early 50s. Adult themes, depictions of stripping, sexual assault (not Joel), fingering, general horniness

Word count: 4.2k

Part II: Pretty As You Feel

Series Masterlist

-

Deep in the recesses of your closet hid a large box, collecting dust over the years. You had danced throughout college and kept some of your favorite work wears, just in case you ever returned.

You can totally still do this, you assure yourself as you sift through the long neglected contents.

With a huff of determination you put a bag together, setting your bagged heels at the bottom, followed by a few pairs of panties, a couple of dresses and your cosmetic bag.

There were plenty of strip clubs in the area, but you wanted to be sure to choose the right one. You never liked the younger crowds or nightclub-like scenes, the higher end clubs with older clientele suited your needs much better. Sure, they weren’t throwing handfuls of cash or making bills rain down with money guns to impress their friends, but you couldn’t stand dealing with a never ending sea of frat boys and batchelor parties.

You pull into the parking lot of the first club on your list, reading the simple red script illuminated by LED.

Silk Cabaret

You tried to quell your nervousness. It had been so long and you’re terrified they might turn you away in favor of teens and early twenties dancers.

A few words came to mind as you pushed through the doors. Lavish. Ostentatious, perhaps. The red walls were decorated with matching silk, meeting warm stained wood furnishings and accents.

“Hello!” A cute young woman greets you enthusiastically. “How can I help you?”

“Are you hiring dancers?” You ask, trying to project your voice and sound as confident as possible.

“I think so, let me grab a manager,” she chirps before standing up from her spot behind the counter.

You watch her disappear behind the wall dividing the entry room from the main section of the club. She emerges a moment later with a bright smile and cheery, “Follow me!”

You survey the rest of the club as you trail behind her. The bar was a large and L-shaped and tables covered in red cloth. The stage was displayed at the back of the room, a wide oval shape at the base with a short runway jutting out toward the center of the club.

The host leaves you to wait beside a bottle service section for a manager to come speak with you. After another minute or two of looking around, you noticed a figure emerge from behind a closed door.

Your eyes widen without your permission as you take in the man striding to toward you.

“Joel,” he says in a deep voice, jutting his large hand forward.

You try to maintain your composure as he envelopes your hand in his own and introduce yourself with a small smile, waiting for him to continue.

“You been fired from any clubs around here recently?” He asks, cutting right to the chase.

“No,” you reply with a small laugh. “I haven’t even danced in years. But I’ve never been fired, I’m not on drugs, no crazy boyfriend or baby daddy drama. Nothing that’s gonna give you a headache, I promise.”

You notice his lip curl upward in a slight smirk. “Haven’t danced in years, huh? What’s got you back?”

“I take it by that question you don’t pay rent in this city,” you tell him in a slightly amused tone.

“Ok you got me there. So you wanna start tonight?”

“Got my bag in my car,” you respond with a grin.

“We won’t pick up for a while, I can send you off with some paperwork if you want to come back around 7.”

“I don’t mind, it’ll give me some time to get acquainted,” you tell him as you head to retrieve your bag.

You return inside to find Joel now gone and you make your way toward the dressing room nestled behind the stage.

“One last thing,” Joel calls as you pass the now open door of his office.

Mildly startled, you turn to him and tilt your head, silently questioning.

“What’s your stage name?”

You bring your lip between your teeth, briefly wondering if you should assume a new moniker. Deciding against it, a name rolls off your tongue like an old friend. “Starla.”

-

You feel your anxiety laugh at you for thinking you were nervous before. Knowing one of the most gorgeous men you had seen in a long time would inevitably be watching you dance mostly naked would have excited you years ago. Now you feel almost sick as your heart races and and a knot forms at the base of your throat.

You shake your head, trying to force your unbelievably handsome new boss from your head.

You apply your makeup in a section of the bright, mirrored dressing room that’s unoccupied. You paint your eyes and lips darker and more exaggerated than you would normally and blush that looks ridiculous in the glaring light but perfect for both the dim club and flashy stage lighting. After running a brush through your hair, you stand to undress.

Your favorite dress was beautiful, but didn’t provide the easiest on and off access with the lace up back. Deciding to save it for the end of the night, if at all, you don a set made of a long skirt with a slit up the side and a tight matching top that pushes your breasts together enticingly.

You strap your heels on and shove your bag in an empty locker. With a steadying breath, you push through the thick, velvet curtain that shrouded the dressing room from prying eyes.

There was one customer now, chatting with the only other dancer you’ve seen so far. She looks to be a bit older than you, with spray tanned skin and gravity defying breasts.

You stand awkwardly beside the bar, unwilling to sit just yet.

“Hey there,” you hear in a soft, high pitched voice. You hadn’t noticed the bartender make her way toward you until she stood two feet away. “I’m Kenzie.”

“I’m-“ You begin, but catch yourself with a laugh. “I’m Starla. Gonna take some getting used to that again.”

“It won’t take long,” she responds with a knowing smile. “Want anything to drink?”

“I’m alright,” you tell her. Frankly, you’d love a drink to settle your nerves, but you weren’t about to pay strip club drink prices when you know soon enough there will be a room full of men willing to pay them for you.

“It’s on Phil,” she says with a nod in the direction of the man you noticed earlier.

He and the woman talking to him meet your gaze and give you a smile and wave.

“Thank you!” You call over, waving back. You turn your attention back to Kenzie. “Titos and clubs soda it is then.”

Kenzie returns with your drink and you sip slowly, waiting for the action to pick up.

By the time you reach the end, the only other people to walk in were two more girls, chatting casually as they made their way to the back.

“He said he’ll get you another if you’d like,” Kenzie says, grabbing your empty glass.

“I should probably take it slow,” you respond.

“Smart girl. I like you.”

You smile at her compliment and see Joel emerging from his office again, taking a stance beside the vip section. He catches your gaze and gives you a smile.

With nothing else going on you decide to approach him, the confidence of your former persona coming through.

“You look beautiful,” he tells you sincerely. Your stomach flutters and you feel a blush rise to your cheeks. You were used to lecherous compliments at the club, given with a lustful look over your body. But Joel kept his eyes on yours.

“Thanks. I guess I’m glad I didn’t the heart to give away everything when I stopped dancing.”

“What did you do before deciding to come back to this?” He asks, his eyes scanning the nonexistent crowd.

“I’m a graphic designer,” you tell him. “With outsourcing and AI it’s been a nightmare to find reasonable pay.”

He nods empathetically. “I bet.”

“How long have you worked here?” You ask.

“About ten years. I took work as a bouncer after serving in the military. Came here, got promoted after two and… Well, here I am.” He runs a hand through his tousled salt and brown sugar hair.

Before you can say anything else, another pair of girls come strolling by.

“Hi, Joel,” one says, slowly dragging the vowels out before giggling with her friend.

“Ladies,” Joel says curtly with a nod.

“What time does the DJ get in?” You ask Joel nervously.

“About an hour.”

Your stomach drops a bit. You haven’t been on a stage in years. “Do you mind if I maybe do a practice song or two before rotation starts? It’s been so long and I’m a bit antsy to get it over with.”

“Of course,” he answers.

“Thanks,” you turn to make your way over. “Sure hope it’s like riding a bike!” you call over your shoulder as you walk away. You think you hear a chuckle but you don’t dare turn around to check.

The preset playlist cycles through typical 80s hair metal and pop songs. Good to know some things don’t change.

You step through the curtain, thankful the room is nearly empty. Your eyes dart to where Joel was standing and you breathe a sigh of relief to see it empty.

You slowly sway your hips to the beat, grasping the cold metal pole in your hands. You spin around it, rotating your body with quick ease. Feeling more confident, you grasp higher and begin to climb.

The friction is painful between your legs, your thighs no longer desensitized to the intense grip. But you’re doing it. You carefully wrap your body around the pole, losing yourself to the beat as you transition into some basic moves.

You breathe a sigh of relief that your stage time maybe won’t be as painfully awkward as you feared.

You push through the curtain back into the dressing room.

“You’re wasting your time you know,” a girl sitting down to get ready tells you as she smiles at herself in the mirror, applying dark red lipstick.

Your brow furrows as you wait for her to continue.

“Joel Miller doesn’t fuck with the dancers. Trust me, we’ve all tried,” she says with a laugh. “I’m just giving you a heads up before you lose out on money trying to get in his chastity belt.”

“Thanks, but I wasn’t…”

“Mmhmm,” she says with an unbelieving raised brow and knowing smirk before returning to her routine.

-

The night begins to pick up, patrons and more dancers slowly filling the modest space. The DJ arrives and you introduce yourself.

“I’m Tommy,” he tells you with a warm smile. “Anything you like to dance to?” He asks.

“I’m not too picky,” you reply. “But I may have slight PTSD from the song Girls, Girls, Girls so please avoid that one.”

“That’s our promo song,” he says with a frown.

“Oh god,” you grumble. The thought of hearing that song every hour on the hour nearly giving you a headache.

“I kid, couldn’t help myself,” he reveals with a proud smile.

“Thank Christ. I almost quit.”

-

It’s not long before you hear Tommy call you to the stage for the next song. Your nerves are set alight as you make your way through the dressing room and enter the DJ booth.

“Hope you got a good set for me,” you tell him.

“I got you, superstar,” he replies with a wide grin.

You throw your shoulders back and emerge onto the large, glossy wooden stage, heels clicking with each step.

You freeze, hearing the familiar beginning notes of Girls, Girls, Girls and shoot Tommy a death stare. The song smoothly transitions into Alice Cooper’s Poison and you fight a smile as you watch Tommy shake with silent laughter.

You’ve danced to the song plenty of times and didn’t have to think much about your movements, your muscle memory doing all the work. You slowly shed your clothing and give attention to the men at the stage tipping you.

Sitting before a group of transfixed men, you arch your back and spread your legs. Your head comes forward and you lock eyes with Joel, who you hadn’t realized was staring intently at you. As soon as he notices your gaze, he scans the room, looking everywhere but the stage.

You finish your set and grab your money and dress.

“You’re an ass for that, you know,” you tell Tommy with a smile as you head to the dressing room.

-

You slip back into your former routine easily. Approach a man, laugh at his lame jokes, hand out light touches to his arm or knee, seem interested in his boring life.

“I’ve got someone coming in to see me soon, but I’d really love to dance for you,” you deliver your go to line with a purr.

“Can’t be havin’ that,” the man you’re talking to growls, a slight slur to his words. “Want ya all to m’self.”.

“Let’s go then,” you say, forcing out a giggle.

He hands you a few hundreds. “Half hour.”

You approach Joel and hand over the dance fee for the private room.

He nods and marks down the time. You lead the moderately intoxicated man by his hand and he uses his free one to slap your ass.

You turn around and see Joel puffing his broad chest out, ready to make a move. You shake your head subtly, indicating you could handle it.

“You’ll want to behave, baby, I don’t give refunds,” you tell him sternly.

You begin dancing for him in the tiny private space. His suit is rumpled and his drunkenness seems to increase as he sits before you.

Clammy fingers grab at your skirt, trying to pull it off. You bat his hands away, annoyed. “It’s called a strip tease for a reason, have a little patience.”

“You sure are a fuckin’ tease,” he spits.

You turn to face away from him, bending slightly and slowly shaking your ass to hide the look of rage you don’t care to conceal. He smacks your ass again.

“Touch me one more time and see what the fuck happens,” you seethe in his face, unable to contain your anger at the drunken bastard.

“Better make it count then,” he growls through clenched teeth.

More nimbly than you’d expect, he stands up and presses you to the wall, using one hand to cover your mouth and shoving the other down the front of your panties.

You thrash against him but before you can make a move, you hear the curtain rip open. Joel storms in, dominating the small space with his imposing frame. He grabs the man off of you swiftly.

“She asked me to!” He lies in his defense.

You watch as Joel’s nostrils flare, his large muscles twitching. Before you can register it, he’s delivering blow after blow to the man’s face.

“And I’m pretty fuckin’ sure I heard you ask me to do that,” he says in a frighteningly low, steady voice.

He drags the man out and you stay frozen, trying to collect yourself.

Of course this would fucking happen, you think bitterly. You feel a dull throb between your thighs as you think about the way Joel defended you. And of course it would turn me on.

You’re not sure how long you stand there before Joel tentatively renters the room.

“Are you ok?” He asks, his voice soft and low, warming you from the inside like a cup of tea on a cold night.

“Yeah,” you say flatly. “Been through worse. It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he says firmly. “I am so sorry that happened in my club. I should have stepped in when I saw him smack your ass.”

“It’s not your fault. Thank you for coming so quickly,” you reply honestly. “How did you know to get here so fast?”

He clears his throat almost bashfully and looks away. “I was standing close by and heard you yell at him. Heard too much commotion so I came in.”

“So much for not causing you a headache,” you joke, trying to lighten the air.

“You didn’t cause a headache for me, darlin’” he assures. “You wanna press charges?”

“So the law can favor the rich guy over the stripper and he sues you for hitting him? Nah, I’m good.”

He studies your face for a moment. “You ok to go back out?”

“Yeah. I think I could go for another drink now.”

-

The rest of your night goes by with relative ease. You notice Joel’s eyes on you a few times, but when you catch him he doesn’t look away. Silently assuring you that you’re safe under his watch.

What I'd give to be safe under his body, you think to yourself.

"As much as I've loved talking to you," you lie to whoever you're sitting beside now, "I gotta get a move on."

"One more drink," he pleads.

"My boss is kind of a hard ass," you lie again. "He’ll really lay into me if I stay in one place for too long.”

God I wish he’d lay into me, your filthy brain whispers again.

“Alright,” the man relents. “A dance then?”

“That I can do,” you respond, leaving your chair. You see Joel’s eyes fixed on you in your peripheral vision. It drives you wild.

You wait for a new song to come on before you begin to shake your hips between the man’s legs. He’s not terrible looking. Probably around the same age as Joel, but lacking the sex appeal that exudes from the man dominating your thoughts.

You straddle one of his thighs, arching your back and resting your forearms well above his shoulder. You pop your pussy, making your ass jiggle rhythmically. Your center just barely grazes his thigh and you close your eyes, imagining Joel beneath you. You shudder out a breath and change your position. You rub your thighs together, your thoughts of Joel cumulating to a dull ache between them.

The song ends and the man below you seems to notice your desire, mistaking it to be for him. He requests to keep going and you oblige, continuing to picture Joel with every tormented move.

Tommy announces that he’s about to play the last three songs of the evening.

“Might as well see it through to the end,” you whisper.

“Might as well,” he grunts back, adjusting himself in his pants.

You dance for the remainder of the night, collecting the cash from your final customer.

“Will I see you again?” He asks as you redress.

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. “But if I keep dancing it’ll be here.”

“Here’s hoping you do,” he tells you as he stands. “It was great to meet you.”

“Thanks, you too. Goodnight.” You give him a small smile before heading to the dressing room.

-

Most of the girls have left by the time you change back into the dress you wore in. Your face feels heavy with sweat and makeup, so you decide to remove it all before making your way up to the DJ booth. You catch Tommy just as he’s about to head out.

“You know, I debated stiffing you for that stunt you pulled earlier,” you say, handing him a few twenties, tipping more than necessary because you know the value of having the DJ on your side. “But you did pretty good otherwise so I guess I’ll hock it over.”

“Why thank you, darlin’,” he tells you with a little bow of his head. “See you tomorrow?”

“With how sore I’m gonna be? You’ll see me in a week. Maybe.”

“Don’t wait till it hits ya, take an epsom soak tonight,” he advises.

“I think that is exactly what I’ll do.”

You find Joel in his office, sorting through stacks of bills and paperwork, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his strong nose. You thought he couldn’t get any sexier, but here you were, slowly melting from the inside out.

“Hi,” you say softly to get his attention. He looks up at you as hand your house fee his way.

“I don’t want that after what you dealt with tonight,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Like I said, been through worse. Just take it.”

He obliges, setting it alongside the other stacks.

“You can still help me feel better about it though,” you say, drunk off all the attention given to you that night. And the drinks.

“How’s that?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“I don’t like when control is taken from me,” you state. “I hate that his clammy little hands were the last ones to touch me.”

He stares up at you silently. It’s almost imperceivable but you take note of the way his brow furrows and chest rises and falls a little harder.

He doesn’t get up from his chair, but swivels it to face you fully. He takes one hand and places it on the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. He slides it upward at an excruciating pace, causing a shiver to run through your body. “This is what you want? What you’re asking of me?”

“Yes,” you whimper and nod your head. “Please.”

He continues up your thigh until reaching your cotton panties, a much more comfortable switch from the ones you wore while working. He drags a finger around the hem teasingly before brushing his thumb over your clit.

He looks up at you, waiting for your eyes to return to his. There’s a fire in them as he yanks your panties down roughly, causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Shut the door,” he commands. You quickly do as you’re told.

He returns his hand to your center, hissing as he feels the extent of how turned on you are.

“What’s got you so wet, baby?” He asks with a smirk, lightly running his fingers up and down your slit.

“Been thinking about you,” you admit breathlessly. “Couldn’t stop myself.”

He pushes two digits fully into you, eliciting a partly stifled moan. He sets a quick pace, causing your knees to almost buckle.

Joel takes off his reading glasses with his free hand. “Lift your dress,” he commands. “I want to see.”

You lift your dress and watch as he stares at his fingers brutally fucking into your pussy, his other hand returning to roughly grasp your hip. His breaths are more labored and his lips are curled into a slight snarl. The sight sends you closer to the edge.

He feels your walls start to constrict around his fingers and brings the hand on your hip to settle flat against your stomach, his thumb finding your clit and pressing quick circles into it.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, your greedy cunt tightening further, wanting more.

“Shut that pretty mouth if you want me to make you cum,” he warns.

“Yes sir,” you whisper, biting your lip to stop from crying out.

“Good girl,” he praises in a softer tone.

That’s all it takes for the knot in your center to pull itself free, a wave of intense pleasure rushing through you. You bite your lip harder and place a hand on Joel’s firm, muscled shoulder to keep from screaming or collapsing.

You let your hand run down his strong bicep as he removes his fingers.

“On your knees,” he demands.

You readily sink between his legs and eye the massive bulge he has there. You want to reach out and touch it, free it from the strict confines of his pants and take him in your mouth. Wordlessly thank him. You want to fucking worship him.

But you know that you’re not the one in charge, you handed those reigns over to Joel with pleasure.

He brings his wet fingers to your lips and you eagerly take them in your mouth, twirling your tongue around his digits as you suck them clean. He groans, sending another twinge of desire to your spent pussy. You were insatiable.

He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of your hot mouth a few times, transfixed by your soft lips.

He takes his hand away and wipes his saliva on his shirt.

Standing up, his throbbing cock just inches from your face. You look up at him, silently begging for permission to take it out.

“Come on,” he says instead, offering a hand down to you. “I’ll walk you out.”

You take his hand and rise, disappointed.

He’s quiet as he walks you to your car and you worry that you fucked up by asking him to touch you. You were already warned that he didn’t mess around with the dancers. It was a good policy to stick to but you had met very few men working in clubs who had the willpower to follow through with it. Now he probably didn’t want you coming back.

“Thank you,” you tell him as you reach your car. “For walking me out, for saving me from that creep and for helping me feel better about it. I know that’s all it was, I won’t be weird about it. But I understand if you don’t want me to come back.”

He shoots you an offended look. “Jesus, no. You are more than welcome back here.”

He pauses for a moment before opening his arms to you. You shyly sink into them, reveling in how firm yet soft his warm body felt against yours. He pats your upper back, like a dad would to a kid. “I’m sorry again about tonight. Drive safe.”

“Will do,” you tell him before slipping into your car. You watch as he turns to head back into the club, taking in his broad frame with admiration. You were fucked.

[hexidous]

Give And Take

Inspired by the Raider Joel series by @toxicanonymity - Alt version of part 7: Company

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Summary: Joel brings back someone new, expecting to make you jealous. He’s forced to find a new way to punish you when you have too much fun.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, non con, dub con, fingering, scissoring kind of, threesome, FFM, PIV, death.

HC: Joel’s bitch, the bisexual switch

Word count: 1.3k

-

“You’re sick,” the girl whimpers at Joel. “Shoot him!” she demands of you.  “What are you waiting for?? SHOOT HIM!” 

-

"I’ll try to make it good for you,” you say in a half whisper.

You stalk forward, gun heavy in your hand. You look at her, genuinely, for the first time. Her hair looks soft in the dim lighting, her eyes wide with fear. As you reach the dingy cot she kicks at you, screaming, “Get away from me!”

A surge of anger rushes through you. “And here I was going to be nice,” you hiss, subconsciously channeling Joel. You grab her ankle while pointing the gun at her head, slowly moving your fingers up her inner thigh.

“Damn, baby,” you hear him chuckle from behind you.

His words give you confidence. The power you have over her, that he’s given you, sets off a pulse between your thighs.

Well this is unexpected, you think as you feel the familiar dull throb in your pussy. You’re surprised at how turned on you are at the sick scenario unfolding before you.

Keeping your gaze locked on her teary eyes, you strike a quick back hand across her cheek. You climb over her, pressing the heavy, cold barrel against her temple and bring two of your fingers to her lips. “Be gentle, baby, or this is the last thing you’ll do.”

Her face twists in anger as she sucks your fingers, her tongue caressing the slit where they meet. Your breaths become more labored as you feel your wetness begin to drip between your thighs. “Good girl,” you whisper.

You hear Joel move closer behind you, swallowing the distance in two long strides. His fingers seek out your pathetically sopping cunt, groaning as he easily slips two inside.

“Having fun?” He asks, the smile on his face coming through clear in his deep, gravelly voice. He fucks his fingers in and out of you in time with the pace you set your fingers in his prisoner’s mouth.

“Yeah, maybe,” you respond in a daze. He curls his fingers roughly, sending yours in too deep, resulting in a gag from your new toy.

“Do you want to be nice yet?” you ask, feeling your lips curl into a cruel smirk.

She nods enthusiastically, a look of fear and lust in her eyes you easily recognizable.

You pull the gun back from her head. “No sudden moves, ok?” She nods again, her chest rising and falling quickly.

You drag the gun up and down over her clothed cunt as Joel continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. You angle the barrel to push just barely into her covered pussy and drag it up enough to catch her clit. Her breath hitches and she arches her back.

“I think she likes you, baby,” Joel breathes into your ear. He pulls his fingers out and you give a disappointed huff.

You hear Joel’s unzip his pants, pull his cock out and stroke it slowly.

“What do you want from her, sweet pea?” He asks in a strained whisper.

You look down at her, meeting her watering eyes, settling on her trembling lips. She’s terrified of what you may answer. But maybe a little excited. The thought alone sends a twisted chill down your spine.

You stroke her bottom lip with your thumb, entranced by the way she closes her eyes and leans into your touch.

“I want to see more,” you finally reply, eyeing her body, hidden within tattered and bloodied clothes.

“You head her,” Joel snaps, the change in tone and volume startling you both.

She gets to work quickly, shedding her soiled wears piece by piece until she’s completely naked.

“That what you wanted?” Joel growls.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, gliding your fingers over her soft skin.

She shudders as you reach her nipples, so you to pay even more attention to them. You drag your lips and tongue over her breasts as your hand ventures lower.

Fuck, she’s wet, you think as you delicately insert a finger into her pussy. She bucks into your hand, grinding her clit into your palm.

Why the fuck is this turning me on so much, you wonder as you feel your own pussy clench around nothing, weeping for any sort of contact.

“Get on top of her,” Joel commands, noticing your growing excitement.

You mount her without thinking, staring deep into her eyes. Maybe you were trying to make yourself feel better about the situation, but you could have sworn she met your gaze with the same amount of lust.

You have your legs straddling her hips and Joel’s knees pushing her legs further apart from behind you. He lines himself up with your desperate hole and buries himself inside you, pushing you hips down and grinding your clit against hers.

You both cry out from the contact. Joel’s unrelenting pace keeps your desperate cunt rocking into hers, the pleasure undeniable from either party.

Joel’s arm snakes around you and roughly palms one of her breasts, the flesh spilling around his large, dirty hands. You bring one of your own more delicate hands to her other, marveling at the difference in size. You become intoxicated at the feeling of being fucked into another woman. With any other man you’re sure you would have hated this, but as Joel slams into you your entire world is consumed by lust.

You feel a bite at the crook of your neck, Joel’s teeth sinking deep and marking you as his. He strokes the back of your hair before curling his fingers and tugging backwards, exposing more of your neck to him.

He licks a slow line up to your jaw, and with how transfixed on him the woman below is, you know he’s got his intense gaze fixed upon her. You almost feel jealous again but the tightening coil in your center snuffs it out quickly.

You feel the hand tangled in your hair push you downwards. Like dolls he’s playing with, he takes you both by the back of the head and forces your faces together.

You both resist at first until she moans into your mouth and you take the opportunity to lunge your tongue in. She uses her hand for the first time to grip your hair and you brace yourself for a fight, but you’re pleasantly surprised when she holds you closer and bucks her hips into yours.

She thrusts her hips into yours desperately. You reach down and hook two fingers into her wet little hole, giving her what she needs to find her release.

Her moans in your mouth and orgasm against your pussy combined with Joel’s vicious thrusts rapidly send you over the edge.

Joel watches and feels you cum with her and he can’t hold back any longer. He pushes you roughly into your new companion, spilling his seed with a feral grunt and a few more slow pulses.

You collapse beside the woman you hated less than an hour ago. She curls into your side and without really thinking about it, you stroke her hair. You extend an arm for Joel to join you on the tiny, stained mattress.

Instead of collapsing into your arms as you had foolishly hoped, he grabs you by the elbow, cruelly ripping you from your embrace to stand face to face with him.

You meet his eyes, wincing at the fire and brimstone set deep within. In your ecstasy you forgot who you now were. Who you belonged to.

The weight of the situation settles back onto the woman you knew so intimately moments ago.

“No,” she cries softly. “Please.”

“Can’t we let her go?” You ask meekly, tears threatening to run down your cheeks again, the pleasure and torment caused by this man exhausting you to the core.

“She’s seen too much,” he responds coldly. “I’ll give her a nicer end than any of my men will.”

You hang your head, knowing there’s not an argument to be had. Your head is swimming but you faintly hear her try to bargain her way into living a little longer. Her hand manages to grasp yours and you turn to meet her eyes one last time before Joel thrusts a knife into her neck. You hold her hand until it falls limply from your own, watching until her eyes glaze over, no longer registering yours.

He sought to teach you a lesson, and whether it be through jealousy or grief, the message came across loud and clear: You were his and his alone.

[hexidous]

This seems abour right for my first post 🫠

He said 💪