They had been waiting
for the better part of an hour and were on their third round of drinks —
good strong drinks, too, not your usual nightclub pour — when the music
went down and a spotlight was switched on. In the sudden brightness
Annabel could now see that the entire wall behind the stage was covered
by an enormous mirror, which made it seem like there was a second club
over there with identical patrons.
A figure appeared at the
back of the stage and began to walk toward them. It was a woman, of
course — a tall, imperious-looking blonde in her late 30s or early 40s
with the physique and demeanor of an Amazon. Her outfit, a floor-length
fur coat hanging open over a black leather bikini, would have looked
preposterous on almost anyone else. But on her it was staggeringly sexy.
She also wore heels even taller than Annabel’s, but unlike Annabel she
walked with complete self-assurance.
The crowd applauded as
she stood before a microphone at the front of the stage. “Welcome,
everyone,” she said, and there was another, louder round of applause. “How is everyone tonight?” There was a chorus of cheers, yells, and
whistles. “Glad to hear it. Well, as always, let’s begin with the
audience participation part of the show.”
She picked up a glass
bowl that had been sitting on a stool to her left and plunged one hand
inside. After a few seconds she pulled it out and held up a number to
the crowd. “72,” she said.
Everyone in the crowd
looked around to see who was wearing that number. It took Annabel a few
seconds to figure out that it was her. People started applauding as more
and more eyes turned to look at her, and Carla jerked her head in the
direction of the stage. Finally Annabel understood that she was expected
to go up there.
Heart pounding, Annabel
stood up and began to make her way toward the stage. She moved slowly
because she was having trouble walking on the warehouse’s uneven floor,
but it seemed like she was being dramatic, and the crowd ate it up.
There were steps at
stage right and Annabel walked up to them, then paused. They were high
enough that she didn’t feel sure she could climb them. The woman onstage
came over to offer a hand, and with her assistance Annabel was able to
make it up.
The woman leaned toward
Annabel to be heard over the din of the crowd. “What’s your name,
sweetheart?” When Annabel told her she said, “I’m Blair. It’s nice to
meet you. You’re new here, hmmm?” Annabel nodded. Blair took her by the
hand and led her to the other side of the stage. “Lay down for me here,
would you?”
Blair indicated a sort
of platform with obvious places for her head and feet. Annabel stretched
herself out as desired; the surface was hard but not uncomfortable.
Blair lifted Annabel’s hands over her head and bound them to the
platform with built-in restraints. She then maneuvered a few levers and
the platform began to move, lifting and then rotating. When it stopped
moving Annabel found herself upside-down with her feet in the air,
facing away from the audience, but still able to see them in the mirror.
Only the part of the
platform supporting the top half of Annabel’s body had moved, so her loose legs were sticking straight up into the air. But with her yoga-built
core strength she had no problem supporting herself in that position
until Blair clicked each of her ankles into metal cuffs that were
hanging from the ceiling.
Annabel’s dress was
tight enough that even in this position — hanging upside-down with her
legs apart — it hadn’t budged an inch. Blair now began to roll it slowly
up — or actually down — over her thighs. Annabel felt herself being
exposed inch by inch. Soon the dress was up around her hips, meaning
that she was naked from the waist down — or in this position, the waist
up — with her backside facing the audience and her pubic hair clearly
visible in the mirror.
Feeling the blood begin
to rush into her head, Annabel squinted at the mirror, trying to find
Carla and Kim among the crowd. When she finally located them she saw
Carla lean over and whisper something in Kim’s ear, and they both
laughed.
Blair, meanwhile, had
opened a trunk at the side of the stage and begun to rummage through it.
After a minute she emerged holding a metal yardstick. Suddenly
realizing what that meant, Annabel gulped. Seemingly every day she was
debased in some new way. Now she found herself hanging upside-down, her
nether regions exposed, about to be punished in public for no reason by a
complete stranger.
Playing to the crowd,
Blair waved the ruler through the air, watching it bend and bobble. That
looks like it’s going to hurt, thought Annabel; but despite this, or
maybe because of it, she felt her pussy moistening.
Looking over at her
stepdaughter again, Annabel found herself wondering if she’d really been chosen
at random, or if Carla had prearranged this. She never did find out.
.
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