I was standing backstage, breathing hard and shivering, and wondering if I could do this. I needed the money, and but being naked in front of a room full of rowdy male strangers – I wasn’t so sure I could do that.

Then I heard the manager introduce me, getting the crowd going by telling them I was a “virgin stripper” and this was my first time, so they should be sure to encourage me. There were wild cheers from the crowd.

I felt frozen, but forced myself to start to walk onstage…
****

Father died when I was fifteen, and my relationship with Mother was always rocky. But when I was seventeen, she brought someone home. She told me he was my new “father” and I had two, new “brothers”. Things turned ugly quickly after that.

“Father” was a toad. He used to walk into my bedroom without knocking while I was undressing. He pretended to be very pious, but he was said he’d heard I was slut, one who needed correcting. He would pull me over his knees and spank me. It wasn’t hard to notice that his dick was always hard when he did that.

His older son was also a bully. Three years older, and much bigger than me, he was a party boy. He also knew I partied too, and knew that I had sex with some of the guys. Since we sometimes turned up at the same parties, he seemed to think that meant I should be available to him whenever he wanted.

The younger son was much nicer, and about my age, but always horny and kept looking at me in a hungry way. He also wanted to be a priest and didn’t try to force me into anything. But I liked him and gave him what was probably his first blow-job three days before I left home.

Mother always took the side of her new husband and his older son. She said I was enticing them, that I was the slut they said I was. That I was trying to provoke them, I was asking for it. It was my fault. So, since I was legally an adult at seventeen, I walked out, leaving Rotterdam for Amsterdam, and started looking for work.

I answered an ad from a girl who needed to split the rent on her apartment. Right from the start, she was very strict about getting my share of the rent on time, or she’d kick me out.

I got a job as a store clerk, but the money was bad. I got a second job as a waitress, and the fact that I was pretty, and willing to flirt with the customers got me some nice tips – but it still wasn’t really enough. I was getting by, but it was a constant struggle.

I was dating a guy who would occasionally get me work as a hostess at special, catered events, like bachelor or sports parties. I’d wear a tight top, short skirt and heels, because guys like to tip, right? Turned out he also knew the Manager of a “gentleman’s” club, the Club Exotisch (“Exotic”).

One night after a catered party, I was complaining about how money was always short, and I had to find a way to make more. He stopped me and said, “Would you be willing to do exotic dancing? The dancers make pretty good money, especially if they’re willing to do lap dances.”

Besides the strippers at the parties I worked at, I didn’t know anything about exotic dancing, or lap dancing. But I needed money, so I asked him how I could learn more about it.

Two nights later he took me to the club to watch the performances and then introduced me to the manager in his office. The manager acted as if this were a perfectly normal event, and told me that if I was really interested, I should come back the next afternoon.

The next day I showed up wearing a sundress and low heels. After I told the guy at the door why I was there, I was taken to the manager’s office. In addition to him, there was the DJ and one of the dancers, Miriam. After the introductions, the manager looked at me, then asked me to take off my dress.

I was shocked, but he said, not unkindly, that he needed to see if I had what the customers would pay to see. So, feeling I had no choice, I slipped my dress off over my head, and stood there, hugging my elbows, in my bra and panties, feeling scared and awkward.

I’d been naked with men before, but this was somehow – different. But he never tried anything, just smiled and asked when I could start. I said, “When can I get paid?” He smiled again and told me to show up tomorrow afternoon at 16:30 for some instruction. He gave me three songs I would dance to and suggested I familiarize myself with them. He also told me what type of clothes to bring for my act.

Well, the songs were ones I already knew well: “Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress,” “American Woman,” then “Wild Thing” for the finale. They played in succession and represented different stages of stripping, gradually upping the tempo while I took off what I was wearing.

I was incredibly nervous when I went into the club at 16:30 the next day, and completely unsure if I wanted to do this, money or no money.

The manager had Miriam, whom I had met the day before, there waiting for me. She took me through the moves, telling me what the customers wanted to see, and how to mix moves with the music.

Stripping isn’t just about taking my clothes off, she explained, like I did when I was getting ready to get into bed at night. I had to show the members of the audience I wanted them, that they got me hot and horny, to tease them, and convince each one of them I wanted to fuck them if only we got the chance. I was supposed to be the fantasy lover they always wished they’d have: easy, hot, sexy, and ready to fuck if they would just turn me on. And, of course, the best way they could show me they wanted me was with money.

She also showed me how to move close to the audience while I still had clothes on, and bend over so they could stuff banknotes in my bra or panties, sometimes offering them an “accidental” free feel to convince them how much I wanted them to put their hands on me. It was basically a lie, of course, but a lucrative one.

Then she had the DJ play the music, but not too loudly, so she could talk to me and walk me through the process, showing me how to move, how to entice, how to part them from their cash and make them love it.

I was supposed to use part of “Long Cool Woman” as an introduction, basically getting onstage and displaying myself to the men, but fully clothed – or as fully clothed as I could be in the outfit I was wearing.

Then the music would shift into the gutsier, raunchier “American Woman”, when I would start taking clothes off, slowly, teasing them and making them want me. And I’d end with “Wild Thing,” where the point was to get completely naked, show them I had turned into a slut that was waiting to be fucked, and to do so in a way that left them wanting more.

Then I’d leave the stage, reluctantly, clearly being forced away from them against my will.

But most of all, she told me that I should try to create my own style, to develop my own brand, my own story so that I would stand out in the customers’ minds. The real money, she said, was in lap dancing. The stripping was basically advertising for the lap dances, although the banknotes from tips while stripping could really add up if you could get the crowd hot.

Then she had to tell me what lap dancing was, and why men paid so much for one. Basically, lap dancing meant that I sat on the guy’s lap, facing him with my legs spread around him, with my tits in his face, and my pussy grinding into his cock. The only real difference between that and fucking was that he had to keep his clothes on, and he couldn’t touch me or the bouncers would throw him out.

I was supposed to wear a negligée and a thong, which meant I would be pretty well naked while he was fully clothed. Lap dancing made stripping look tame.

I was scared to death at the idea of having make-believe sex with complete strangers, some of whom I wouldn’t like, or who were nasty, or had bad breath. I didn’t know whether I was going to be able to do this. My heart was beating hard, and I was sweating. Suddenly, waiting tables didn’t sound so bad.

And she gave me one final piece of advice: “Make them believe you’re reluctant, scared of going on stage, that you’re being made to do this against your will because you need the money. Then make them believe their cheers and calls are making you horny and hot to have them. And by the end, make them think they’ve turned you into a hot slut, panting and begging to be fucked by them, and that they could do anything they wanted to you, if they could just get you alone.

“You’re new. The regulars haven’t seen you before, and you’re young. It’s a fantasy they want to believe, and if you can sell it, they’ll love it, and love you. It will pay off, you’ll see.”

Then I had about four and a half hours to make myself believe it. My heart was thumping hard in my chest, scared, and telling me to run away, fast. My head was telling me that I needed the money, and this was a pretty easy way to get it.

But I was surprised to find that my pussy was telling me that I wanted to do this. I was incredibly wet, just from the description of what I was going to be doing. My pussy seemed to be telling me that this wasn’t a fantasy, that I really did want all those men to fuck me, and over and over again, even when I begged them to stop.

I was totally mixed up about what I wanted.
****

Finally, at around 22:30 that night, it was my turn to go onstage. I felt like I badly needed to pee, even though I had just been to the toilet. I was shaking, standing backstage, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, and asking myself whether I should just turn and run away, go back to waitressing, or shop work, or anything else but this. My mouth was dry, and my knees felt like they were going to collapse at any moment.

But my pussy was wet.

When I heard the manager announce me as a “virgin stripper,” I knew it was time. When the crowd roared, I forced myself to walk on shaky legs to the curtain, but couldn’t make myself go any further. I was frozen, and couldn’t make myself walk any further.

The roar continued, and then seemed to start to settle down. And I still couldn’t move, stuck behind the curtain, just out of sight, rooted to the floor.

The manager hissed at me, “Go on! GO ON! They’re waiting!”

I couldn’t force my foot to move.

But then I remembered what Miriam had told me about selling the fantasy. I pulled the curtain back just a little bit, and peeked one eye out, looking at the crowd of men. And one woman! When they saw me, they went wild again, cheering and shouting for me to come out and strip.

I dropped the curtain back, and there was a groan. Then I pulled it back some more and tilted forward so that my whole head showed. The roars began again. I know I looked scared because I was, but I was starting to like the noise the crowd was making – it was for me, and it was a thrill unlike any I had ever known before.

I dropped the curtain back again, and there was another groan. Then I pushed one foot and part of one leg out from behind the curtain, and this time the roar was enormous, like a wall of noise. So, rather than drop the curtain a third time, I shuffled onto the stage, hiding my face partially behind a hand, and looking embarrassed and humiliated to be in front of so many men with so few clothes on, because that was part of how I felt.

But the other part was excited. I could feel my cunt lips sliding together, I was so wet, and my not very concealing thong was already damp.

Then, finally, the music started.

I remembered what Miriam had told me, so even though I loved dancing, and usually gave myself over to the music, I made my movements hesitant, awkward, and small, as if I was scared and embarrassed to be doing this.

They loved it, and let me know how much.

So, I started moving a little more freely, starting to let the music take me. The crowd quietened now, as I moved around the stage, remembering that Miriam told me I was supposed to show myself to the crowd.

I danced close to the edge of the stage, looking directly into the eyes of one of the more eager men close to the front. I held his gaze, then, as I got close, I looked down, as if I was embarrassed. He was cheering, so I leaned over to show him my tits inside my blouse – and he pushed a banknote into my bra!

I liked that, it made me feel as if he truly appreciated what I was doing. And I was getting wetter. I kept dancing, turning and twisting, but still keeping my movements relatively small and contained.

Then the music changed to “American Woman”. I stopped as if stunned and just listened to the music for a moment, as if confused.

Then I started to move as if the music was starting to control me. After a bit, I unbuttoned my top, slowly, one button at a time, as if the music was making me hot. As, of course, it was.

When I finished unbuttoning my blouse I just let it hang on my shoulders, swaying open and showing my bra and tits.

I let it start to slip off one shoulder – then caught it, and looked surprised as if it had happened accidentally. The crowd cheered. Still holding my shoulder, I looked at them, then dropped my gaze, as if I were embarrassed, then slowly lowered my blouse, and finally let it slip completely off of me.

I crossed my arms in front of me as if embarrassed to be caught without my blouse, but inside, I was finding this a major turn-on.

Now I was dancing in a bra, hot pants, and a thong.

I twirled around, again letting the music move me, and, while my back was to the audience, I unbuttoned the top button of my hot pants, letting them sag open. Then, when I faced the audience, I noticed the button and quickly clapped my hands over my pussy, not just the buttons to my pants.

I peeked under my hands, looked up at the audience, closed my eyes, tilted my head up, and unbuttoned another button. The crowd loved it – and so did I.

I put both of my hands inside my hot pants and started massaging my pussy inside my pants while continuing to dance.

Now I danced closer to the crowd, and, once I was at the front of the stage, knelt down as if too turned on to be able to stand. I stayed kneeling at the front of the stage, and looked up, briefly catching the eye of the man who had put a bill into my bra, quickly looked down, then unbuttoned the final button of the pants.

I stood up suddenly, but let my pants fall around my ankles as I stood, putting both of my hands to my wide-open mouth, as if surprised and embarrassed.

I stood with my pants around my ankles swaying to the music with my eyes closed, then stepped out of my pants, and kicked them to the back of the stage, simultaneously kneeling in front of the same man, and bending backwards, moving the waistband of my thong towards him.

He pushed another banknote into the waistband – and let his hand linger just inside for a moment. I opened my eyes, looked at him, leaned forward and dropped my hands to the floor so they were beside my knees, and looked him directly into his eyes. I licked my lips, then stood, turned, wiggled my ass at him, and looked down again.

Gradually I moved across the front of the stage, staring at men, one by one, and, when I felt they were responding, leaning in towards them, and usually harvesting banknotes. This was getting to be fun, I was making some significant money – but I was starting to worry that I might cum onstage, I was getting so turned on!

By now, I was wearing just my thong, which was dripping wet by this time. I made sure the men knew it was wet, sometimes brushing it against their fingers after they had stuffed a note inside it.

I turned my back to the crowd, and slowly, very slowly eased the thong down to my knees, then left it there and fell forward onto my knees, then eased the thong over my feet, and tossed it into the crowd.

I still had my back to the audience, but fell forward onto my hands and knees – doggie position – then dropped my shoulders and neck, and arched my back, pushing my pussy lips backwards towards them. They cheered loudly, and I waggled my pussy. They cheered even harder.

Then I spread my knees, slowly lowering my pussy towards the floor until I was lying on my front, with my hand between my legs. I couldn’t help it, but I fingered myself and found I was sopping wet.

I slowly rolled over onto my back, then pushed myself into a sitting position and spread my legs so that my pussy was on the eye level of the audience members in the front row. I leaned forward until my tits touched the stage, then scissored my legs behind me, and pushed myself up so my ass was in the air, then slowly stood up, and walked over to the pole, spread my legs, and rubbed myself up and down its length like it was an enormous cock, spreading my cunt juices over it, then ran a finger along where I had rubbed, and licked it, then put my finger in my mouth and looked teasingly at the audience.

They loved it.

So did I.

It was clear I had found what I wanted to do in life – be naked in front of men. Or women. In public. Or anywhere that would allow me to feel this way. I felt a glow of sexual energy I had never experienced before. I felt adored and wanted. I felt special and sexy in a way I never had before. And I felt something else as well.

I found myself wanting the guy who had first put money in my bra to take me, fuck me, and tell me what to do. I later learned that this is how submissives feel. I discovered that I actually was a submissive, and didn’t know it until finding myself naked in front of a room full of strange and rowdy men brought it to life within me.
****

I did three lap dances that night – on my first night! I’ve done dozens since then, but I remember the second one for a very special reason.

I came while sitting on the customer’s lap.

I didn’t intend to, and I was terribly embarrassed and started apologizing. He shushed me, and told me he felt terribly complimented, and even honored that I would cum for him. He gave me a big tip.

When my shift was done, I gave the DJ, Security, and Bartenders a cut of my earnings. Even with that, I went home with €600 that night – more than I would have made in a month at the shop and more than I would have made in at least two weeks waiting tables. I knew I had found something that would help me pay my rent. And I also learned two, very important things about me.

First, I could be an exotic dancer – a stripper – enjoy it, and be well paid for it. But more than that – much more than that – I found out who I am.

An online dictionary I once checked said that a slut is “a woman or girl who is considered to have loose sexual morals or who is sexually promiscuous”.

So, the second thing I found out is that I really am a slut. Becoming a stripper was when I finally embraced and began truly exploring that. And while I know some people disapprove and may look down their noses at me, there's one other thing I'm sure of.

It's my life, and I'll live it how I want.

© Copyright, J.L. Gainsborough and Nika S., December 2020.
May not be reproduced in any form, or in any medium, without the express, written consent of the authors.