And the song remains the same

I have been walking the floor, flirting, dancing for almost an hour before you show up, flanked with the men that work for you day in and day out, the ones who are so excited to come to the club.

When you finally walk through the door, it takes all of me to not giggle, to it smile ear to ear at your presence, at just seeing your face. I keep my calm, my heart pounding but my face stoic. You are the calmest of the men around you, and I know it is as much of a farce as my lack of smile. I want so much to run over, to kiss you, to wrap my arms around your neck and show you how excited I am to simply be able to touch you. But this is not the game tonight.

You lead them to sit by the stage, and I angle to get back on the stage as fast as possible. I whisper to this person and that person, making my way into the back. I catch my breath a little as I come out, the lights making it difficult to see your face, which is a comfort as I try and keep my composure.

I hang onto the pole, bending and shifting and caressing it with various curves of my body. I wrap around it, trying to look at anything but you. I look each of the men you brought, still sweaty from a long day or work, strait in the eye. I smile and wink as I bend at the waist completely, looking back between my legs and waving with the tips of my fingers.

I watch as one by one they lean forward, handing and dropping dollars. I finally pull my dress down, and then off, spitting out of it and tossing it to the back where it will be easy to gather.

I finally turn and out of the corner of my eye, see you lean over to the guy next to you, gesturing at me. It takes everything in me not the smile. Though you didn't tell me the details, I know everything which is about to transpire and I can feel my clit start to swell.

You are a salesman, but so am I. The song ends, and I walk to the back and then back out onto the floor. I take the long route to get to you, trying to casually ignore the other men in the club trying to get my attention.

"Evening, Gentlemen." I coo, softly as I walk over, standing between two of your men. "How are you enjoying your night?"

They are polite, resisting the urge to touch, though I have a hand on the shoulders of two of them. "Can't complain. Long day, but we're here."

"Exactly. So can I get you men anything?"

Finally you speak and my heart stops. "Well, this one here was talking about a lap dance. Are you available?" You gesture to the guy next to you, who looks bashful and giddy at the same time. His face is so young, I want to roll my eyes. His face is slightly rounded, which only adds to the confirmation of his youth. You want me to christen your new employee with a very public hard on.

"I am. Would you like to stay here in front of all your friends, or shall we go into that room over there?"

He opens his mouth and you lean over and whisper into his ear.

"No secrets, boys." I make sure to let the tips of my fingers graze your thigh. Even feeling the rough denim of your jeans over my finger tips makes me wet and I shift a bit as I stand.

"Right here would be great." He finally says.

I smile and ask him his name. He tells me with a new found self-assurance in his voice. I almost giggle at the shift, where he attempting to assert dominance. I know I will feel him harden and tremble as I dance, as I grind on him. But he thinks he will control this and I let him hold onto that fantasy for another moment or so.

As I begin to shake and shift my hips, moving into him slowly. As soon as my eyes turn away from you and I bend, I remember how much I love this. I actually love to give lap dances. It's that feeling of being objectified to the point when the object gains control. It gets me wet to feel that slight tremble, that ache of wanting desperately to touch but having to hold back, of willing parting with every dollar to make it go on. His eyes roam freely, and his breathing catches each time I shift. I can feel his chest begin to pound as his breathing becomes increasingly erratic. I can end this for him whenever I choose, and I will choose, but for now I am fully and completely in control of the man and the cock which my ass is against.

When the song ends, so do I and his come down is shown by the quick and heart-breaking fall of his face. I step away and turn around, avoiding your eyes intentionally, but I can feel them on me. I don't want to blush. I want to bury my face in your neck and curl up in your lap. I love when you lend me out, but when I remember that this is what is happening I want to run to you in between each time. I want to know I have been a good girl for you and now you are lending me out again. I want to be reminded that this is where I belong, and each of these landings is just temporary.

But that is not the game.

"Well that was... Thank you." He finally says and all of you laugh a bit. He blushes and turns to the rest of the men, who all appear (and almost certainly are) more seasoned at the experience than him. It is sweet and I am endeared.

I climb off of his lap, trying not to stare at you, looking for approval. Your smile is hidden, but not when I know the corners of your mouth the way I do. I look back to the young man who is still blushing and kiss him on the cheek with a "thank you."

I feel your hand on my arm, just a soft stroke. I shiver. I lean in with a coy "yes?" and you finally whisper in my ear, out of the hearing of the other men, what I have been waiting to hear: You're going to dance for me. And then I'm going to fuck you.

I nod, and stand, taking your hand. I playfully wave to the other gentlemen sitting there, watching you being led away. Thinking they know what is about to happen. But as I lead him, I want to tremble.

We head back to the only room I know doesn't have cameras and as soon as the door shuts, I hear a breath tremble. It takes me a moment to realize it is my quivering lungs.

He is sitting. "Dance for me." I turn and open my mouth to speak but he puts a finger to his lips and I nod. My hips begin to move and his eyes trace my hips, my waist, my tits. They graze my nipples, circling them, and roll back down between my ribs, to my belly button. As my bottoms come off, his eyes track down the curve of my thighs, centering between them.

"I want to see your cunt." I climb on the stage and he leans forward. My crouched knees spread to their widest and I hold open my lips for him. He stares and then looks up. "Are there cameras?" I shake my head, knowing better than to speak. He didn't bring me in here to speak.

His fingers tickle up my inner thigh and it trembles. Until two fingers slide inside my pussy. Then I fully tremble.

"You're soaked." I nod, trying hard not to push against his fingers. My nails scratch the floor of the stage as I try and steady myself. They push inside me over and over, and I begin to drip. Cum drips down on the stage, creating a little puddle. His fingers do not move, and his voice is slow and steady. "Lick it up and then dance for me, baby."

I realize in that moment that I have not been breathing. A little gasp escapes my lips and I nod. He sits back and I fumble a little, as I get on all fours. I know how disgusting this floor is and I make the slightest of faces, which only make him laugh. I open my lips, leaning down as my tongue peaks out. I know the cum and dirt and grit on this floor, and I know that my stomach will turn as it happens.

"Wait, baby." I look up at him, eyes begging. "How awful is it?"

"It's bad, Daddy." I make the slightest of a pout. He smiles and the moment of warmth softens me. In the moments where I am soft, I get nervous. This is when it will hurt the most. "But I'll do it." I put my tongue out and wait for his instructions.

"Come down for me." I nod, grateful. I want to give him everything, including my thanks for not asking me to do it. It only takes me a moment of dancing for him before I am on his lap, turns around, ass nestled in the perfect space his body makes for me. I grind my bare ass against him, only moving with the music in theory.

I want to feel his cock inside me, and I push, rocking in small circles, back and forth. My knees are open, and my hands are on his wrists, which sit calmly to the side. He wants to be served. He wants to do nothing but receive all I have to give. I rock back and forth, stroking his cock with my ass through his pants.

I pull my legs up on the seat,  and stand, turning so his face is at the level of my soaked pussy. He can smell me. He choose not to taste me. My lips are spread, and my clit is swollen, and he is staring directly into the wet, welcoming space which takes his cock over and over and not nearly enough. He is inches away from the pussy that aches to be filled by him. I slowly slide down to kneel until my tits have replaced my cunt and hold a nipple to his lips, which he takes in his mouth eagerly. He tongues my swollen, aching, pink bud of a nipple and I moan. I feel his arms tense and he wants to hold my hips and shove me down on his cock, which is bulging against his zipper.

I lower myself more, my nipple popping out of his lips. I am over him, grinding down on his zipper. I can feel his cock pulse, as I refuse to let my pussy leave the fabric of his pants. I can hear his breath in my eye get ragged as I pump my hips, the way that I fuck him, the way that I want to fuck him. I am soaking his pants with my juices, and I want him to feel it through the thick denim. I want him to be sitting on a puddle of my cum and his.

I have never felt more dominant than this moment. I have never felt like I have the right to get what I want until this moment. And I want to cum so hard it makes him cum. I rock back and forth, pumping my hips, my arm going around his neck to brace on my self. I roll my hips, and find the beat, letting my hips grope him while my shoulders and tits roll slowly for his eyes.

I can feel my cunt twitch as my orgasm begins to build. I pull back just enough to let me clit calm down. I want to drip more before I cum for him. I reach down and plunge my fingers into my cunt with a moan. Juices pour from my pussy as I pull my sticky fingers up, rubbing cum over my nipple. I lift up, my pussy leaving his bulge, just enough for it to reach his lips. He moans for the first time aloud as he tastes my juices over my nipple. I smile.

I lower back down, my hips grinding hard on his cock. The fabric of his pants is soaked, and I know it's made it through to his boxers. I moan softly, pushing my hips harder. I look up at him, my bottom lip trembling. I open my mouth, gasping, wanting to ask, not wanting to speak.

He nods and I cum hard, drenching his cock and boxers and pants. My fingers grip his neck as my head dips back, pushing over and over and over and over again until I feel his hands grab my hips recklessly. I feel him buck forward and a groan moves from the back of his throat. He is cumming. I have gotten what I wanted.

I float back down to earth, resting my light head on his shoulder. He squeezes my hips once. "You're not done, sweetheart." I look up at him, my eyes in a glaze of cum and submission and power and want and love. He pats my ass and I slide aside, off of his lap. "Lick me clean."

I nod as he opens his belt and soaking pants. He stands and I kneel, pulling down his pants and boxers enough to run my tongue up and down and back again. I lick him, tasting my cum enmeshed with his. I stroke his cock with my tongue, letting it run over his balls, finding every drop with my tongue. He pulls back, putting a finger underneath my chin, lifting my face.

"Time to go home." And then he says my name. I smile when he says my name. I have been a good girl, a prized possession. I have performed. I have done well. And now I am grounded.

I nod. I stand. "Lets go home."