Freebie Ch. 02

There was a general murmuring from all around the room, and as I looked around, extra cash was being placed on tables. Again, one of the stagehands went around counting the money, and again he whispered into the announcer's ear. He then looked across to our table as he announced through his mic,

"Right sir; tell her husband she's on for fifty quid short of three and a half grand. And that's a record for anyone, newbie or otherwise."

Graham got to his feet and walked out into the entrance lobby, and with that the announcer asked who wanted to be next up on stage. Within a minute there was another girl up on stage, and as she began her erotic dance, a gleaming chrome pole descended down from the ceiling centre stage. Once it had completed its descent, she then proceeded to perform a strip and pole dance. After removing each and every item of clothing, she would circle the stage perimeter, displaying her charms, and enticing the audience, to solicit what rewards she could from them.

Graham returned, and told me Gerry was on the phone in the lobby, and he wanted to talk to me. I went out, and a bouncer in the lobby handed me the phone.

"Hello. Gerry; are you there?"

"Yes. Is that you Mary? Are you alright?"

"Yes it's me, and I'm ok. Graham said you wanted to talk to me."

"Well he's just told me what's going on. He says you're with some of his friends, and they're willing to pay you four and a half grand if you let one of them have sex with you."

"It's not quite like that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I'm in a private club, and yes they will pay me if I have sex with a guy, but not that much."

Just then Graham pressed the privacy button on the phone, I hadn't realised he'd followed me out and had been standing right behind me. Then whilst holding the button so Gerry couldn't hear us, he said,

"It's over four and a half grand if you include the money you got for modelling those costumes. And if you don't fuck, you'll loose that money. After all it was Peter's stuff you were modelling, so he should be the one who gets that. So get back on the phone and tell that snivelling creep of a husband it's actually four thousand five-hundred and sixty pounds riding on just one fuck!"

He then released the mute button.

"Mary, are you there?"

"Yes. Sorry, someone was talking to me."

"I thought we'd been cut-off."

"No I'm here."

"You were just saying, they aren't offering that much. Well how much are the offering?"

"Does it matter? Didn't you hear what I said, it isn't just some of his friends; we're in a club. And if I do it, they'll all be watching."

"Well yes. But if they're paying real big sums of money, it has to be worth thinking about."

I couldn't believe my ears. I'd just told him the offer was for me to be fucked in public, and he still wanted to know how much money they were offering.

"The man who they want me to have sex with is hung like a horse. Is that what you want me to do, perform like a whore to earn you some money?"

I listened, but the phone was silent. Then Graham again held the mute button,

"You silly little cow. Do you realise, if you leave here now, you'll go home with nothing?"

"At least I'll have a little of my pride. Maybe I have prostituted myself with you and Peter, but that was to keep Gerry out of jail. But I won't sink that low for the sake of money."

Graham took the receiver from my hand and as he released the mute button,

"Hi Gerry lad. I've been thinking. I know you've been after doing a part-ex with that old heap of yours for some time now. And I know you've been trying to buy Tony's BMW. Well here's my offer, my BM is only three years old, and it's got to be worth nine grand of anybodies money. I'll take your old Audi, and the money your little lady makes tonight, and you can have my Beemer."

There was a pause, and Graham again spoke,

"What's up, cat got your tongue?"

"I I don't know Mr Spencer. I can see I'd be stupid to turn you down, but its Mary, she don't seem keen."

"Come on my boy. It's time for you to grow up. Believe me lad; she's got more cunt there than you can satisfy. And never you mind what she's been telling you; I can show you a video that will prove, once she gets her legs up, she's not bothered who's on top, she fucks like its going out of fashion. Come on all she needs if your consent. You'll regret it if you miss this chance. Ok I'll put the little lady back on."

Then as he passed me the phone,

"Here, I think he wants another word."

"Mary?"

"Yes."

"Did you hear what he said?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And what?

"Well I was just wondering. Is it right?"

"Is what right? Me giving a fucking show on stage with a man called horse, to earn you a new car. What do you think?"

"No Mary. Don't be like that. I mean is it right that once you actually start having sex, it doesn't really matter who's doing it to you?"

Now what could I say to this, if I denied it, I knew that Graham would take great delight in showing all the video and still shots he'd taken of me. And I was also aware, my facial expressions during some of this video would substantiate Graham's claim.

"I can't help what happens once we've started the actual sex. It's just something my body does. But it doesn't mean anything. It's not like I love them or anything."

"I know that, but if once you've started it feels ok, then it has to be worth thinking about. After all, my car isn't worth much over four grand, so if I get Mr Spencer's Beemer; that means your one little sex session will be worth over five grand. Do the maths, that's a grand a minute."

Sarcastically I said,

"It might be if he's finished as quickly as you. But I've seen one of these men performing on stage with a girl. And if this monster is anything like the one I watched, he'll be pounding that giant cock of his into me for a good thirty minutes. Ramming it in and out at least once every second, that's one thousand eighteen hundred times I'll take his length. It's my guess this guy's cock is at least fourteen inches long. You do the maths. That's not even twenty pence an inch!" (Mental arithmetic always was my strong suit.)

"Oh come on Mary. Please. He can't be that big. And anyway, if it's too big it won't go in. You can only take what your pussy is made to take."

"So you want me to go out on stage and let this stranger split me wide open with the whole club watching?"

"Don't say it like that. Just tell Mr Spencer you'll do it, I'm sure he'll make sure you're ok."

"CRASH!"

I slammed the receiver back down that hard it's a wonder it didn't break. I turned and stomped back into the club, with Graham following me. As I sat down I saw Peter giving Graham an inquisitive look, but as there was now another girl on stage writhing around with a lighted candle in each hand, neither of them spoke, but Graham answered with a big grin. Peter obviously understood, as he leant back in his chair, and took a big draw on his cigar, a satisfied smile beamed from his face. Within seconds of us returning to the table, the announcer had made his way around the floor, not on stage, and was sidling up to Graham, who whispered in his ear. Then his face turned to a smile, and off he disappeared into the shadows.

I sat back in a trance waiting for this girl to finish her act, and my inevitable downfall to commence. Suddenly I was aware of someone placing their hand on my shoulder, and as I turned to see who it was the announcer whispered,

"Come with me."

I looked at Peter; as if asking 'should I go with him?' He just nodded and gave me a smile. I rose to my feet and followed him out to the lobby, and then into a side office where he handed me a very legal looking document. As I tried to make sense of the legally worded jargon, he said,

"It's just our standard consent form. If you read it all, and can understand what it means, you'll be the first one who has. It's just covering us in case you suddenly go to the police tomorrow, and cry rape. It basically says you're willingly taking part in a fucking session, with an audience."

"Why do you need that; surely every man out there is a witness to me getting on stage voluntarily?"

"It doesn't really apply in your case, but its club policy, no waiver form, no performance. And that means no money. It's really to cover girls who are roll playing; pretending to be for instance, a night nurse making her rounds on her own, and several patients take hold of her and she gets gang raped. See to be in character, she'll be saying no, and even crying out, 'RAPE! RAPE!'."

"Oh, I see. But I still can't see why I need to sign one."

"Like I said, club policy, no waiver form, no performance; and that means no money."

I scrawled my signature and handed him the form. He slipped it into the desk draw and said,

"Ok, let's get you ready."

As he left the office, I followed but instead of leading me back into the club to where Peter and Graham were I assumed still waiting; he turned the opposite way down the lobby, and led me into a different room. This was obviously a dressing room, as it had five stools, each with its own mirror in front of it, bordered with strip lights. The whole of the rest of the room was crammed with racks of costumes. I say costumes, not like the beachwear ones I'd modelled, these were clothes, but more like fancy dress or theatrical. From what I could see you could dress up as any kind of character you could dream of.

"Why do I need to come in here?"

He didn't answer immediately, but he was busy sorting along a rack. It only took him half a minute to find and pull out a nun's habit. He turned and held it out with his face supporting a big beaming smile.

"There you are. Sister Mary. What could be more perfect? You can go out on stage fully clothed, and kneel down to say your prayers. I'll get Olaf and a few others to dress as soldiers. That way you can fight and struggle as much as you want. The one thing that can screw-up an operation like ours is if a girl like you says she will one minute. And then the next minute, gets cold feet, and backs out when she sees it's for real. This way, we don't have that problem, you've signed to take a fucking, and any cries for help are just acting out the part."

With that he handed me the complete outfit and left the room. At first I was horrified, but the more I thought about my situation the more I felt at ease with it. I didn't have to be a whore, or submit willingly. I could fight like a cat, and Gerry would still get his money, cos I'd get fucked no matter what. I stripped and started to put on all the heavy coarse underwear that came with the nun's costume.

I'd just put the vest/bodice over my head and was busy getting it straight when the door opened and in trouped six men. One of them dashed across and slipped his hand in between my naked legs. I dropped my hands to reach behind me and took hold of his wrist. But another pair of men had joined in, and one each side began to pull my ankles slowly apart. My hands on the intruders wrist were pointless as now my legs were opening, he just slipped his fingers under and up into my pussy.

I pleaded,

"Please don't."

Of course I never expected them to listen, but the big man who I knew was called Olaf, barked out,

"You heard her."

"Fuck you. She's ours for the taking."

The words had hardly left his lips before I heard a frightening,

"CRACK!"

And then seconds later,

"THUD!"

Olaf had struck the man with a blow to the head and he'd dropped like a stone hitting his head on the floor as he landed. Just at that second the announcer came in,

"What the fucks going on?"

"That pig needed some wax clearing from his ears. When he comes around, tell him not to come anywhere near this little girl."

"You big oaf. She's here to be fucked."

"I know that, and I'm the one who's going to do it. But that doesn't mean she has to put up with dickheads like him until we get on stage. She told him to leave-off."

"I sometimes wonder if it's worth putting up with your fucking attitude. I've told you before, once they've signed, they fuck. It's that simple."

He then turned and addressed the rest of the men,

"Now all of you get fucking ready, or they'll be a riot out there as well."

As the announcer left the room I turned to Olaf and said,

"Thank you. But I didn't want to get you into trouble."

"No trouble. Are you ok? You do want to fuck with me?"

I know I didn't, but I had to say yes, otherwise my Gerry would be so disappointed.

"Yes. I'm ok."

"But I could see you were dead-set against it earlier; and that was when you would only have been fucked by me. How come you're now saying yes to a gang rape?"

"Gang rape? Nobody mentioned anything about gang rape."

"Well why do you think this lot are getting all dressed-up?"

"I was told they would be holding me, so it would look like you were raping me."

"You've signed a waiver form and once you appear on stage, not only this lot will follow me, but anyone from the audience. Mark my words, you've created a stir out there, they'll be queuing-up. It's my bet you'll take at least thirty men before you go home."

I was obviously horror struck,

"Oh my god! What can I do?"

"So I can take it from your reaction, you don't want any fucking?"

"Well my husband wants me to bring back the money they pledged, but that was supposed to be for having sex with one man; you."

"That won't happen now. You should have said yes on stage. You won't get a penny now unless you roll-play, and that will be a free-for-all."

"How can I get out now? He's got my signature. What ever I do or say, they can claim they thought it was playacting."

"It won't be easy, but if you trust me, and do exactly what I say, I'll try to get you out."

I looked up at this giant of a man, now in an army uniform, complete with those black markings that you sometimes see on the faces of battle ready soldiers. He looked every inch like a fierce and ungodly animal. My first thoughts were, if I agree to do as he tells me, he's bound to make sure he gets his fuck no matter whether he helps me out of this mess or not. But then I reasoned, if I don't follow him, I'm doomed anyway. So even though I didn't trust him to have my best interests at heart, I reasoned he was my best or only option.

"Please help me; I'll do what ever you tell me."

"Ok, you walk out now, and I'll be right behind you. But what ever you do don't try to make a run for freedom unless I tell you. And if I tell you 'up', as I bend down towards you, you leap up onto my shoulder and hang onto me for dear life. Now let's go."

I got up from the stool I'd been sitting on and began to walk towards the door at the far end of the dressing room, the one I now knew led to the stage. As I glanced back, I saw him pick up a big stout baton, about the size of a baseball bat, and then he marched right up close following my every footstep.

As we reached the curtains, we could hear there was another act already performing on stage, and by parting them slightly, we could both get a glimpse to see how near she was to her finale. As it was, the girl on stage was performing various poses, or moves, with a wand to which was attached a long ribbon which curled and twirled as she went head over heals around the stage. This was the kind of thing I'd associate with a rhythmic gymnast, but as she wasn't wearing any panties, it kind of threw a new meaning on every stretch and tumble. I guess we'd been waiting no more than two minutes before she had completed her act and was taking her bows, and then collecting her money.

Just at that moment, the announcer appeared at our side and asked Olaf,

"Are you ready?"

"We are."

And with that he grabbed the mic from the announcer, and pushed me through the curtains; he continued with,

"But I'll do the introductions."

And as he shoved me out onto the stage and followed closely behind me,

"Go on, but stick close."

I was catapulted out into the spotlight, and as I stumbled past the girl who was returning to the dressing room, I could hear Olaf over the speaker system.

"Right gentlemen. I'm sorry to announce a change to the show. As you are I'm sure aware, little Mary is new to this game, and she isn't yet confident enough to perform. I know you were told different."

At this point the announcer was also out on stage and trying to take hold of the mic. Olaf lifted up his baton, and the announcer seeing he meant business, backed off.

"I know you're all disappointed, and believe me, so am I. But even though she might have signed a consent form, she's changed her mind now. I'm telling all of you; anyone who touches her will be guilty of rape."

By now there were big doormen climbing up onto the stage from all around us, and Olaf was circling around with me tucked in front of him, his free hand high in the air threatening anyone who came close with the big baton.

"Ok, make a way clear, we're leaving the stage."

Slowly the circle of doormen parted, and we gradually made our way to the steps leading back to the floor area. As we slowly made our way forwards, the angry men closed up behind us, and the ones in front begrudgingly parted to allow us through. I never thought we'd reach the exit, but reach it we did, and we were soon outside in the cool night air.

As the door closed behind us, it was obvious we had left via a different door to the one I arrived at, and we were now in a basement car park. I'd expected us to be followed out, but not one head appeared from the door. I looked up at this giant of a man and asked,

"Won't they follow us?"

"Not now you're outside, the form you signed doesn't cover any activity out here."

"Where are we?"

"This is a multi-storey car park. We can use those stairs to get back up to ground level."

With that he walked me across to a stairway, and up we climbed. As we appeared out in the street, the big limo arrived and pulled up alongside us and the door opened. Peter and Graham were in the back, and Graham lent out from the door and began a slow hand-clap,

"Some performance. A costly one; but a good performance never-the-less. Well are you getting in?"

"I I don't know, what are you going to do to me if I get in?"

"Take you home, what else."

I looked past Graham and my question was directed at Peter,

"Can I trust you to take me straight home?"

Olaf put his hand on my shoulder, and before anyone in the car answered, he'd pulled me aside, and stepped in himself. He then lent out to me and gave me his hand to usher me in. As my head appeared in the car, Olaf said,

"You can now."

As I'd said before this was a big stretched limo, and Olaf and me sat with our backs to the driver, facing Peter and Graham. So although face to face there was a good five or more feet between us.

As we dropped back into the seats, Graham looked at Olaf, and said sarcastically,

"Come in, make yourself at home."

Then he added,

"I wanted to have a word with you anyway"

Olaf was not a man to be intimidated, and instead of letting Graham take control of the conversation, he moved forwards to the edge of his seat, and pointed that big baton directly at Graham's head,

"You pig! Men like you make me sick. You bring nice young girl to a shit hole like that, and then force her to behave like an animal."

Graham looked scared, but he did try to regain the situation,

"Now hang on a minute. She came with us of her own free will. We weren't forcing her to do anything. And anyway, who are you to criticise. You would have been the one fucking her guts out."

"Crack!"

I guess there wasn't any real force behind the blow, but Olaf had just prodded his baton into Graham's forehead, and the crack was audible. And judging by the way Graham grabbed his head and dropped it momentarily into his lap, I guess it hurt plenty.