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  Stripping for Daddy

  Gia Blue

  Copyright © 2011 Gia Blue

  All digital rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

  Cover art © 2011 Gia Blue

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A Coming Together Production

  www.EroticAnthology.com

  Kindle edition

  License Notes

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  About Coming Together: Tabooty

  Coming Together: Tabooty is an ebook line of taboo erotic fiction inspired by Amazon.com's blocking of certain titles due to the fact that they contain incestual relationships. The Tabooty line will feature erotic fiction considered taboo by current social standards. This includes not only incest but unusual fetishes and/or sex with clergy. Regardless of the taboo, all material will involve (a) consensual relationships and (b) participants of legal age. There will be no sexual activity involving minors and no coercion (i.e., blackmail, rape, etc.).

  Proceeds from the sale of Tabooty titles will benefit the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom Foundation (ncsfreedom.org), which is committed to creating a political, legal and social environment in the US that advances equal rights for consenting adults who engage in alternative sexual and relationship expressions.

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  http://www.eroticanthology.com/tabooty.htm

  ~ * ~

  Stripping for Daddy

  I've been on my own since I hit thirteen, walking the streets, doing what I could for money (well, not that) and trying to make my way in the world.

  Alone.

  Course I had parents at some point, but they died when I was eight. Then there was foster care and I finally ran away from the last home when one of the other kids tried to touch me. The "mom" didn't believe me, called me a slut and that had been it. Time for me to go. It'd been my fifth placement and something similar had happened at every one. I'd been over the whole program.

  I've survived, I've thrived, and all with my virginity intact, thankyouverymuch.

  Now, I'm about to apply for my very first job as an adult. Happy birthday to me an all that. I check my watch, a little theme park mouse just smiling at me. I hit eighteen fifteen hours ago and I'm dressed to impress.

  I bought my outfit at the local lingerie shop. The one that caters to local strippers and bored housewives. They take cash and didn't ask questions, which made them the perfect shopping spot.

  I've got break-away clothes, a teeny thong and clear six-inch heels. Cause, clear goes with everything and until I'm making mad money, one pair is all I can afford.

  I'm standing outside Roxy's, staring at the darkened sign. The sexy shape of a woman that's usually neon pink taunts me. Like I'm not good enough to be a Roxy's girl and never will be.

  It's only three and the club won't be hopping, sign shining, until much later this evening. With any luck I'll be on stage, shaking, gyrating and earning tips that'll cover rent for the next few months.

  God, my heart is racing, pulse pounding and all I'm doing is standing on the street in a trench coat and stripper heels. I've done the nude thing before, not for strangers, but I've practiced for some gay friends. They don't get hard watching me, but they always promise that if I had a dick between my legs, they'd be all over my shit. Though it's hard to keep a straight face or sexy pout when all they do is squeal about seeing icky girl parts. But, hey, it's close enough to having guys in a crowd drooling over me…–ish. I probably wouldn't have gotten a better response from them if I'd worn a strap-on.

  But, yeah, I can do this.

  I check my watch and I'm still five minutes early. Fuck it.

  I approach the door, gate steady since I've been practicing walking in these things every day, and knock. It's not long before a big, burly guy pushes it open, looks me up and down. His frame practically fills the doorway, broad shoulders and I realize that the term "barrel chested" would have a picture of him next to the term in the dictionary.

  Big fucker.

  I tighten the tie of my coat around my waist. "I've got an appointment with Jack."

  I smile wide. I've got ID in my purse, just in case anyone questions my age. It's real and everything…This time.

  The guy raises a single, bushy eyebrow but opens the door wider, lets me pass. I skirt by him, careful not to touch. I may want to strip for cash, but that doesn't mean I want to get up close and personal with random people. And until I know his name, he's random…Roxy's employee or not.

  The interior is dim and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the lower lighting.

  "Watch your step, sweetheart. This way." The guy has a gentle voice, deep and smooth and I almost giggle at the absurdity of such a soft sound coming from such a fierce looking man.

  I follow him through the club, weaving around tables and chairs, taking in my surroundings. There're the requisite raised stages and poles, straight-back chairs without arms for lap dances and doorways along the other side that probably lead to private rooms, "champagne" rooms. The space around the stages, perverts row, is cleared out and ready for the night's group of pleasure seekers.

  Which, it seems, is where I'm headed.

  The big guy stops in front of a door marked "5" with a single, swirly golden letter, rhinestones accenting the design. And, hey, it's probably a strip club's definition of classy.

  "Jake will meet you in here. His normal MO is a pole dance, then lap. 'Luck kid." With that, he turns the knob, pushing the door open and leaves me to my nerves.

  The room looks a lot like I thought it would. With its red interior, gold accents and a few areas for armless seating, it's a creepy, yet swank, place. The stage isn't as high or as large as the ones in the main area, but it looks as if there's enough room to get the job done.

  I untie my coat, slip it from my shoulders and drop it onto a seat then approach the stage. One step up and I'm on the shiny, slick surface. I wrap my hand around the brass-hued pole and swing, then wrap my knee and spin, familiarize myself with the space I've got to work on. Not too bad.

  I know I'm good on the pole. Classes have taken care of that. Honest to God pole-dancing classes. I'm ready for this. Roxy's is the premier club, best tips, decent kiddies, and excellent staff.

  I smile at the thought of the "kiddies". It's what peeps in the biz call the customers. They're grown men acting like they're five and begging for a treat, a look, a smile or a lap dance. I'm more than happy to hand some of that over for the right price.

  I've been prepping, researching, for a while. I know what should be charged and Roxy's rates. Money shouldn't be an issue.

  The sound of the door opening yanks me from my practice and I finish my rotation, stop my movement and turn toward the door. The guy there, the man looking me up and down like I'm a treat he'd like to lick, steals the breath from my lungs.

  "Daddy?" Oh, dear God, it's him. Jack Lincoln, the last foster father in my
long string of foster fathers. The one I'd connected with most. He'd treated me like a near adult, one who'd been through hell and lived. It didn't matter that I was thirteen. He'd known what I'd survived and saw me for what I was: a force to be reckoned with.

  He froze, mouth hanging open like a fish. "Holly?"

  I laugh, delighted to see him after all this time, and launch myself at him from the stage. His strong arms wrap around me as he hugs me tight, then pushes me away and holds me at arm's length, looking me up and down. I'm not a kid with a child's body any longer. I've got perky, large breasts, a trim body and a round ass. Basically, I'm a woman men would kill to fuck. Repeatedly.

  "You're all grown up." His smile turns to a frown. "What are you doing here? How have you been? Where have you been? What are you wearing?" His questions fire at me, take me back to the last time I'd snuck out of the house and been caught sneaking back in.

  I smile wide. "I'm looking for a job."

  He quirks a brow and I roll my eyes. "And I'm good. I wandered for a while, lived in shelters, got jobs. Now that I'm legal, I want to make some decent money so I can go to school, get my GED and then on to college."

  He's shaking his head before I finish my speech. "You're not working here, baby girl." Baby girl is what he'd called me for the six months I'd lived with him and his wife, Betty.

  I turn his attention from his denial and on to neutral ground. "How's Betty?"

  I'm being polite. I couldn't care less about how the bitch was doing, but it's a distraction.

  He shrugs. "No idea. We got a divorce. I bought this place." Jake releases me and turns his attention away from me, stares at the carpeted wall. "After you left, a lot of things came to light." He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Including what happened with you. I'm so sorry, Holly. Sorry you went through that and then she was such…"

  "A bitch?" I toss out.

  "Yeah," he barks out a laugh. "She is that." A shake of his head and he's not distracted any longer. "Anyway, you're not working here."

  "Come on, Jake. Let me audition at least, and then you can decide. I promise I'm good. Really, really good."

  "I can't watch one of my daugh-"

  "But I'm not." I cut him off and hop onto the stage. I'm not taking no for an answer. "Turn on the music and you'll see. I swear."

  I bust out with my signature "I swear" just for him. I'd "sworn" about everything when I'd lived with him and Betty. Only, Betty never believed me. Jake always did.

  He sighs heavy and I've got him. Boo-yeah. He glares at me, but moves to the wall with the sound system controls, flips a switch and a sensuous beat fills the room. It's not what I'd perform to if I was on stage, but strippers are also dancers and I need to learn how to adapt.

  I listen for a moment before I move. I've got to mix in stripping off clothes with the pole, a flick and tug of cloth, a seductive smile, sliding the cotton from my shoulders to reveal my tiny bikini top beneath. It barely constrains my breasts, flesh spilling from the sides. I cup my tits for a brief moment and then swing around the metal, show off my assets. On every turn I make eye contact, lick my lips, wink…something to entice him.

  I slow and then stop to peel off another layer, tiny skirt disappearing, leaving me in nothing but a thong and the top. Down to the basics, I focus on my dancing, lean against the pole and touch myself, my breasts, between my thighs.

  My gaze is still on him, on his cloth encased legs spread wide as he slumps in his chair, on the way his t-shirt clings to his muscled chest and the rapid rise and fall as his rate of breathing increases. Yeah, he's affected.

  I spin and my top is next, strings snapping, and my tits are covered by my hands alone. I knead and toy with them, nibble my lower lip and I don't have to fake the pleasure I feel.

  God, I've had a crush on Jake for forever. My first tingle of arousal at thirteen was to the thought of him. What I'm feeling now is way beyond a tingle. My pussy aches and tightens, grows heavy and I know I'm soaking the bit of cloth between my thighs. Prepping me for being fucked.

  Then again, I've never been fucked, so I'm just guessing.

  Yeah, virgin, stripper, whore.

  I reveal my breasts, watch him lick his lips, and I continue my visual foreplay, dance and gyrate, tempt and tease. The music moves me, tugs and pulls my body this way and that.

  I moan, hands wandering over my heated skin, touching those delicate, pleasure-inducing places. I want so damn bad.

  I put a hand between my legs, stroke my folds, pretend I'm masturbating…thing is, I really am. I'm really teasing my clit beneath my thong, toying with the nub while I pinch my nipple and bring my arousal higher.

  More and more I'm giving myself, lost in the dance and Jake's gaze.

  "That's enough."

  I open my eyes, surprised, and a little pissed, that my orgasm was snatched from me. Damn it. I pull my hands from their playgrounds and work hard not to glare at him.

  "I can't hir—"

  "I didn't show you my lap dance." I'm determined. At worst, I don't get hired. But at least I'll get to touch him as an adult, feel him at least once and get him the fuck out of my system.

  "Holly…"

  "Just one dance, Daddy," I drop my voice to a purr. "And then I'll go."

  He drops his head back, eyes closed, for a few moments but he finally looks at me. "Fine. Make it fast."

  I smirk. "I don't do anything worth doing fast."

  I step down from the stage, stalk him, hips rolling and stride full of sex, desire oozing from my pores. I walk around him, trail my fingers over his tense muscles. I lean down and whisper in his ear. "Ready?"

  "As I'll ever be." He grumbles but seems to settle into his seat.

  I spin and swing a leg over his lap, press my breasts forward, close to his face, grind my barely-clad pussy against his lap. I smile at the hard ridge beneath me, the thick cock that seems to be straining toward me.

  I moan and lean close, whisper against his lips. "Very nice."

  "Holly…"

  I keep it up, give myself up to the pulse of the music, rock and hump his dick, arousal flaring bright once again. "Oh, yeah."

  I know it's me talking, but I feel disconnected. I like it too much, get off on touching the forbidden. He's my Dad, but not. It's dirty, but not.

  He growls, hands going to my hips.

  "Nuh uh. Naughty kiddie. Customers don't touch." I grasp his wrists, pull them from my body and drop them at his sides.

  I dismount and turn, give him a nice view of my ass, bend over and gift him with a nice show. I'm nice and tight back there. I work out, make sure I'm gorgeous from all angles, but especially my butt. Men have told me it begs for a spanking.

  Part of me wants Jake to do the slapping.

  I slip a hand between my thighs, stroke myself along my ass crack, down to my pussy before I bend my knees and lower to his lap once again.

  Jake moans, but keeps his hands to himself this time. I lean back, grind against his dick and I'm touching him from shoulder to thigh. "Like that, Daddy?"

  The hard as fuck cock beneath me says yes.

  "Holly…" He gasps my name as I push down, stroke him hard between my cheeks, rock my hips.

  "Want something, Daddy?"

  "Fuck." He spits the word and then his arms are wrapped around my waist, hands dipping between my thighs, fingers easily shoving my g-string aside and he strokes my wet pussy. I arch my back at the lightning that suddenly shoots through me, body shuddering with each stroke.

  "Yeah, right there. It's good, isn't it, baby girl. Pretty little pussy." He growls in my ear, each word corresponding with a circle of my needy clit. He smacks the ball of nerves and I cry out, arch against his hand, back bowed. "Bad girls deserve spankings."

  He pets my pussy, stroking me and it eases the sharp bite of pain. "Please, Daddy. Need it so bad."

  He dips a finger to my hole, circles the entrance before he shoves a single finger deep, stretching my virgin body. I whimper and he
keeps pushing, probably oblivious to the hint of pain that's now clouding my arousal.

  "Tight little cunt, Holly. Not many men have been here, have they?"

  I shake my head. "No one."

  He stills for a moment before he returns to sliding that digit in and out of my soaking pussy, slow and easy now. "No one?"

  "No."

  Jake groans and lays his head on my shoulder. "We should stop, Holly. It…We shouldn't."

  I bear down on him, push him deep once again. "No, want you, want you to fuck me hard and deep. Take my pussy, Daddy."

  His cock seems to grow harder beneath my ass and I know I'm going to do this, let him take me and fuck me and make me a woman. Need it so bad.

  "Don't you want me?"

  "You know I do." He pulls his hand free and I grab his wrist, stop him. "Shh…Turn around baby girl."

  Fuck. Yeah.

  I rise, strip my thong and slip a hand between my legs while he works at his jeans. I bring the other to my breast, pinch my nipple while I stroke my pussy, play with myself. His attention shifts between me and his pants, as if he can't decide which is more important.

  Finally, the zipper is down and that massive cock I've been feeling is free. Its head is an angry red, nice and thick, fat and ready for me. I want that big dick in my cunt no matter how much it may hurt. I want him splitting me and fucking me hard. Just plain want.

  "This is what you want?"

  I bring my gaze to his, nibble my lip. "Yeah. No doubt. I'm a dirty girl and I want my Daddy to fuck me."

  He strokes his cock from root to tip, squeezes just below the head before repeating the move. Up and down, pre-come forming along his slit. "I'm gonna fuck your pussy, Holly. Hard and deep. Sure you want me to be the one that pops your cherry?"

  I take the couple of steps separating us and eye his dick, and yeah, I want it. He moves his hand and I straddle him, bring my soaking cunt up against his hard, hot shaft. He hisses and I moan, sliding my wet lips up and down his cock, rocking my hips, just enjoying the touch.