Speaker 1: The music from the lesbian club was still humming in
my sternum when I stepped out onto the sidewalk, fishing
my phone from the back pocket of my cutoffs. Four women,
four older experienced women, who'd bought me drinks, who'd leaned
close to hear me over the music, who'd let their
manicured fingers trail down my bare arm while I smiled
and played dumb. I'd laughed right in the brunette's face
when she'd suggested they take me home. Sorry, ladies, I'd said,
sliding off my barstool, I'm just here to dance. The
look on her face, Claire, she'd said her name was,
had been worth the cover charge. That expression of startled indignation,
the way her companions had exchanged glances. I was still
grinning about it when I heard the van door slide
open behind me. It had been fun teas in a
bunch of older lesbians, as if they could have me.
Then everything changed hands, too many hands to track, one
over my mouth, chemical sweet and damp, another around my waist,
lifting a third gripping my ankle. When I kicked my
phone clattered to the pavement. The van's interior smelled of
leather and lavender, and something metallic underneath sh A voice
murmured against my ear, familiar, Claire. You wanted to play games, sweetheart.
Now we're playing ours. Oh shit. My vision swam distantly.
I registered the van's door sliding shut, the engine rumbling
to life. I tried to scream and produced only a
thin whimper. This is going to be fun, another voice said.
Silver hair glinted in the passing street lights. Patricia. She'd
been the quietest at the bar, watching me with this small,
knowing smile. Weak enough to be compliant, aware enough to
feel everything. Patricia's hand found my jaw, turned my face
toward hers. That's the sweet spot. I couldn't move my arms,
couldn't move my legs, but I could feel. God, I
could feel everything. The van hit a pothole, and my
body swayed, held upright only by the seat belt they'd
strapped across my chest. My tank top had ridden up.
Someone's fingers traced the strip of bare skin above my waistband.
Look at that. A third woman murmured, red hair shaved
on one side, goosebumps. Please. The word came out side
blurred my tongue, thick and uncooperative. Please what Claire leaned forward,
Please stop, Please continue, You'll have to be more specific.
Her thumb found my nipple through the thin cotton of
my top, circled once twice, then pressed down hard enough
to make me gasp, my back arching against the restraints.
She's responsive, The redhead observed, that's good. What followed was
an inventory not of names or faces, those blurred together
in the dim light of the van, but of sensations.
Claire's thumbnail tracing the outline of my clit until the
bud tightened painfully. Patricia's palm flat against my sternum, feeling
my heart hammer. The fourth woman, the one I hadn't
seen at the bar at all, sliding my cutoffs down
over my hips with a clinical efficiency that it was
somehow more terrifying than roughness would have been. She's not
wearing underwear, the fourth woman announced, of course, she isn't.
Claire's laugh was low and throaty. She came to tease,
didn't you, baby. My shorts pooled around my ankles. The
van's ac blew cold across my exposed thighs, spread her.
One of them commanded. The women yanked my legs apart there,
Patricia's finger parted my folds. I wasn't wet, I was terrified,
but my body, my body didn't seem to know the difference.
Sensitive little clit She observed and pinched it between her
thumb and forefinger. The sound that came out of me
wasn't a scream, not yet. It was a choked animal
bleat that I didn't recognize as my own voice. Patricia
held the pressure for three seconds four five, watching my
face contort, watching my hips try to buck away. Please,
she's polite at least. The Redhead had produced something from
her purse, a small vibrator, the kind that fit on
a fingertip. Let's see how polite she stays. When the
vibration touched my nipple, I did scream. I whimpered. The
Redhead just laughed and dialed the intensity up. They traded
me between them like a shared cigarette. Claire pinched my
clit until tears streamed down my temples. Patricia flicked my
nipples with thumb and forefinger, alternating fast and slow, never
letting me predict the rhythm. The Redhead maya, someone called her,
used the vibrator on the sensitive skin just inside my
thighs close enough to make me twitch, never quite touching
where I needed it most. The fourth woman just watched
and licked her lips, and that was somehow the worst.
By the time the van stopped, I was a mess
of involuntary responses, shivering, whimpering, my inner thighs slick with
their spit. Then I realized my keys. They'd taken my
keys from my pocket. The metal shutter of Bella's Pizzeria,
my workplace, rattled upward. The neon sign was off. The
chairs were upside down on the tables. The industrial mixer
stood silent in the corner. This was my domain, my
after school job, the place where I folded cardboard boxes
and made small talk with delivery drivers about the weather.
Now Claire was dragging me across the tile floor while
Patricia preheated the industrial oven four hundred degrees. Patrisha announced,
same as we use for the gluten free crust. Maya
had a pizza base already laid out on the flower
dusted counter, a perfect circle of raw dough, pale and waiting.
Here's how this works, Claire said, gripping my chin. You're
going to kneel, You're going to use that smart mouth
of yours. You're going to eat some cunt, and every
time you bring one of us off, you're going to
spit everything you've collected onto that pizza base. Understand. I
stared at the dough, then at her, Fuck you. The
slap came fast and open handed, snapping my head sideways.
Wrong answer, She pulled me down by my hair. Patricia
was already settling onto the prep table, hiking up her
pencil skirt, her expression one of mild anticipation, as if
she were waiting for a latte. You can use your tongueung,
she said, or you can use your teeth. But I
promise you one of those options ends much worse for
you tonight. If you want to hear the rest of
this sexy story, come back tomorrow for part two. Trust me,
it's going to get a lot filthier. I hoped you
enjoyed today's sexy story. If you love this podcast, leave
an Apple review, Share what sexy fantasies you want to hear.
Maybe we can make your dirty dreams come true. See
you soon,