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Jeri is 18 and wants to become a famous pornstar, she wants to be the erotic fantasy of thousands of people and she’s willing to do anything to achieve her goals. However, she soon realizes that she needs help and when it comes in the form of Michelangelo, “Mikey”, a much older, unattractive and yet well endowed man, who claims that he can mold her into a star, she accepts it against all reason, embarking herself on a quest to transform into a (erotic) dream version of herself, Jules Sperme, a girl with a tattoo of a giant octopus spreading its tentacles from her asshole, where its mouth is depicted, to her buttocks, lower back and thighs.
Can dreams coexist with reality though?
In this chapter:
As Jeri lets her Jules persona take the wheel and finally make her debut with a porn video that spreads all over the web, everything moves much faster, but with speed comes less control…
Fetishes and WARNING:
Piercings, smoking fetish, dirty old man/young girl, cmnf, exhibitionism, tattoos, ass-to-mouth, spanking.
This story is not meant to give a realistic or accurate portrait of the internal workings of the sex industry, it’s just a fantasy. My first language is not English, so please let me know if I did unspeakable things to Grammar.
He made me
6. Worlds collide
“And now… Giving a new meaning to ‘barely legal’…. Our newest addition and your new addiction… Azure!”
At that, lights became unusually bright, “Criminal” by Fiona Apple started playing and a sexy 18-year-old blue-haired stripper entered the stage. She strutted confidently to the pole on her black stripper boots, in a leather jacket showing her cleavage and a plaid microskirt, adorned with a big studded belt. One half of a broken pair of handcuffs rattled on each of her wrists. Moving sensually with the slow music, holding the pole with her leather fingerless gloves, she let the anticipation of her nudity grow in the crows, winking and flirting with the men who had been attracted by a glimpse of the unusual tattoo of an octopus spreading its tentacles from her asshole to her buttocks and thighs.
Soon her jacket fell, as she faced the pole so that she could show off her beautiful back while she danced around her steel companion, caressing it as the huge phallic symbol that it was. Turning around suddenly and sliding down the pole, she gave everyone a better look of her makeshift bra, cobbled together with yellow tape spelling “CRIME SCENE – DO NOT CROSS”, which however failed completely at covering her pierced nipples. As she began dancing on the floor, a lucky guy bought himself a peek under her skirt, getting a preview of what was coming right next: her pussy apparently was a crime scene too, barely hidden by a flimsy thong made of yellow strip! Now covered only in tape, she flew around the pole, as more eyes landed on her body.
The song changed, the lights dimmed and a reddish light engulfed the girl. Blue handprints appeared all over her thighs and her tattooed ass, faintly glowing in the darkness, dancing with her as she shook and swayed her buttocks. Back on the floor, she was a cash magnet: more bills flooded the tip rail, attracted by her proximity.
As if the men’s desire of crossing the forbidden tape could manifest physically, her top fell, revealing that her breasts had been touched countless times by big manly hands, whose presence had left a blue glowing trace for the police and the customers of the strip club to chase. One of them even violated the house rules and put a rolled bill between her boobs, but the girl showed her appreciation, sensually passing her tongue on her pierced lip and winking at him.
Third song, third surprise. As her thong fell too, she bent with her torso horizontal and she raised her ankle until she was in a vertical split holding the pole. The entire room then saw the jeweled butt plug she wore, as the lights grew brighter. She had shed all of her clothes, but certainly not her enthusiasm, which earned her more tips right until her set finished and requests for lap dances later, when she strutted in the room completely bare towards the changing rooms.
That girl, so sexy and confident, that was me!
Azure, Jules, Jeri, so many names for me, so many identities, personalities and lives! In everyday life they mixed together, mere aspects of the same woman underneath the surface fighting to emerge, trying to adapt to the situation as much as possible, but on the stage, feeling on my skin every stare of Saturday’s crowded room, I felt just one. My sexual energy coursing raw in my veins, unchecked, guided my every movement with the same confidence that one feels in the heat of intercourse.
This was just my third day, but I knew I was born for this! My successful first night, Mikey’s safety-net and his idea of edging before going to work had banished all fears from me and unleashed a wave of creativity. With a pole in my bedroom, bahis firmaları I could learn new tricks and practice new sets, but I also wanted to make my own outfits and make them memorable. So I had spent a good portion of Saturday afternoon crafting a bra and a thong out of the fake police tape I had ordered on the internet, experimenting with knots, glue and whatnot so that they were sturdy enough to endure the continuous dressing and undressing in the club. A quick trip to the city and I also found an old vintage leather jacket and real handcuffs to break and turn into bracelets. The glowing body-paint had been a sort of last-minute idea, spurred by the picture of the classic CSI black light scene evoked in my mind after staring at the yellow tape for so long.
“You are a fucking genius!” Mikey had complimented me, as he groped my breasts with his hands covered in paint to make the prints, “But expect girls to steal these ideas!”
“I’m not going to do this kind of thing every night, anyway, just on Fridays and Saturdays, when the audience is worth it. I already have something in my mind for next week: I want to make a dress out of one of your shirts and play the ‘Daddy’s girl’ angle, maybe sucking a lollipop all the time.”
“Sure, I have a couple that you can destroy. You know, since you are so crafty, we should think to make a more serious designs with proper materials and sell them!”
“Really?” I had asked excited.
“There’s plenty of strippers and sex workers who need to stand out and always look for new outfits. We’ll talk about this when you can sponsor them as a porn star, though.”
So, I was even going to become an entrepreneur! In a distant future, however.
Back to the present, if Friday had been very good at the club, on Saturday I was banking serious money, to the point that the floor manager summoned me in the VIP area stage! It was very different from the one in the main room, because it was at the same level of the floor and so I could be much closer to the customers, for whom I performed in a way more similar to a lap dance than the stage show I was used to, as long as they made money rain. They were way more generous than the crowd on the main floor!
As much as I loved dancing in front of everyone, however, I still had mixed feelings about private dances. Some customers were fun to be with, but others were just boring or annoying. The touching and groping was the same: sometimes it actually aroused me, sometimes it made me feel uncomfortable.
From the female side of human relationships, I had met some other strippers, but, even if they were nice, they mostly kept by themselves. I couldn’t really to put it into words, but talking with Lotus, even though we just exchanged a few words during our joint smoking breaks, was completely different. There was some sense of… Complicity between us, ever since our lesbian private show on Thursday, probably because we had proved to have each other’s back in a situation that had made both nervous.
It wasn’t all good, though. There was a small group of strippers who formed a clique led by Morgan who clearly didn’t like the popular newcomer that kept wearing a buttplug even though the queen bee had forbidden it, as if the bitch owned the place! Nothing really happened but from the way they were staring at me I knew that something was brewing. Well, I was ready!
Anyhow, Sunday was very slow as promised. At opening time the number of customers was so meager that we didn’t even do any stage show, in an effort to push them into buying lap dances. Fortunately there were also fewer girls on shift. After trying, without success, to entice the few guys who had reciprocated my smiles, I went on a smoke break, finding Lotus already there:
“It’s deader than…” I complained, “I don’t even know!”
“Oh, let’s make it a game,” replied Lotus in her trademark flat tone, puffing, “I’ll go first: it’s deader than my parent’s bed!”
I laughed hard at that: she had the perfect dead-pan face.
“Yours too, huh? Ok, it’s deader than my egg vibrator after what I did with it this afternoon!”
Which, by the way, had left me horny as hell, since I didn’t allow myself to cum, as per Mikey’s orders. And I wouldn’t later for sure: there was no way I could reach my quota of 350 dollars tonight and get my reward, especially considering that there was a 2-4-1 special, a real deal for the clients but not for the strippers, who still gave the club the same cut.
“That’s my kind of fun afternoon,” she approved. “Speaking of, it’s deader than my love life.”
“Yeah, you and me sister,” I replied, patting her back.
“Hey, still wanna teach me some pole tricks?” she asked suddenly.
“Yeah, when it’s slow like this you can go on stage and do whatever. One time, I saw a girl making fun of the custies who were not tipping her by reading ‘Moby Dick’ out loud instead of taking off her bra.”
“Are you bullshitting me?” I provoked her, crossing kaçak iddaa my arms and squinting at her suspiciously.
“Scout honor!” she assured, only to add: “Ok, now I am really bullshitting you: I could never be a girl-scout!”
“I would eat all the cookies,” I agreed, extinguishing my cigarette right after her and popping our ritual mint.
Back inside, we went onstage, attracting the attention of a couple of men and fellow dancers. Oddly enough, it felt awkward, out of the context of the usual show. Also, a doubt caught me: was I really qualified to teach somebody something that I had learned only a few weeks earlier? Well, as long as I repeated what Dana had taught me, there would be no harm, right?
That turned out not to be a problem at all: Lotus seemed very wary of the pole, so I had to stick to stuff so basic that even I could teach it. In order to do so, I had to encourage her by guiding all her movements with my hands. She was wearing a fishnet mesh T-shirt dress, so there was a lot of contact between my skin and hers: our practice therefore became very intimate very soon.
“Hey, don’t look around, but we are finally getting some attention,” she whispered, as I showed her how to hold the pole for a particular trick.
She was right: a furtive glance confirmed that now some of the customers had approached the stage.
“Let’s pretend we are together,” Lotus added, “it’ll turn them on!”
I didn’t have time to react that she was french-kissing me. I would be lying if I hadn’t secretly hoped every day since our last time that I would feel again her delicate lips on mine, with our matching mint and cigarette aftertaste.
“Thanks for the help, baby, you are the best!” she then said, for the benefit of our audience.
An appreciative catcall resonated just below us.
“Hey, don’t do that! We are two good girls having a romantic moment and here you are objectifying us!” I jokingly scolded the man standing in front of us who had made the rude sound.
“Yeah, sure!” the guy chuckled, sitting at the tip rail and showing a wad of dollar bills, “How about you go a little bad?”
“Yeah, sorry baby, but my virtue is not worth that much!” Lotus told me, patting on my shoulders, and, with a gesture to the DJ, she had him play a new song.
Not sure what to do exactly, I followed her lead. We danced in front of each other, our bodies grinding and our hands trailing the other’s curves. Our lips met more than once, while we looked at the man lewdly. His money was eloquent enough, as were the stares from Morgan, who was sipping a drink at the bar.
Soon, without needing to say anything to each other, we re-enacted our joint strip-tease and we attracted more people. At the end of our show, we raked a decent amount of cash, but our real profit was the attention.
“So, would you like a private show?” Lotus asked our most generous patron, after we got dressed again on the stage.
“Yeah, but just with you.”
“Sorry babe,” she said, turning her head towards me, with a sensual smile and a wink, as she left the stage.
I pretended to pout:
“I feel so lonely now!”
“Come with me then!” another guy said.
Lotus had once again turned an otherwise boring night around. I didn’t reach my quota and climax that day, but that didn’t matter. On Monday I was off, but I had a date with the future: it was finally time to record my fake sex-tape which, after being “leaked”, would launch my career in porn!
I and Mikey had discussed it in all the details, we had polished fictional Jules’ backstory and finally we had come up with the perfect scene.
The setup: Jules was 18 and needed a job after being kicked out of her parent’s house for her relationship with her fictional boyfriend Cade, played by Patrick, who was 10 years older and dubbed “a pervert freak” for his tattoos, body-mods and piercings. Her parents had hoped to force her to leave him this way, but they hadn’t realized how strong their daughter was. In this sense her octopus tattoo was supposed to be her consequent huge “fuck you” to them. The premise was perfect because it resembled closely what had really happened to me. Of course my character immediately opted for a job as a stripper, she being a slut. Again, easy to play because it was basically the truth.
However, she worked in an unnamed city where strippers do not make much money. This was inspired by Lotus’ real-life experience and served two purposes. The first was providing a reason for her relationship with Cade to end, namely his paranoic suspicion that she offered sexual favors at the club to enhance her earnings: ultimately his jealousy would be why she left him and why he published their sex-tape in revenge. The second purpose was turning Jules to porn in the aftermath, in an effort to make enough money to finally get the breast implants she desired so much, since stripping wasn’t going to cut it.
“Hey, Jeri– I mean, Jules!” Patrick greeted me when I opened kaçak bahis the door.
I couldn’t help hugging him:
“Thanks for doing this, Patrick! I’ll be forever grateful!”
“You do know that I’m getting paid, right?” he chuckled.
“Yeah, but still… I mean, how many people just begin to shoot porn for money if they have another successful business?”
“Wait, you think this is my first shoot?” he frowned a little amused, whereas I was a little bemused:
“No! I used to be a porn actor, you know, when I was a little older than you. I needed money to open my studio. Not that I shot anything big, but I do know my way around.”
Of course! That made so much more sense!
“I couldn’t get a loan, you see?” he went on. “At first, I didn’t really like the idea, but I wouldn’t let that stop me from achieving my dream.”
“Yeah, I know what it feels like,” was my heartfelt reply.
“All in all it was fun, though. So you see: here I am!”
At that moment I felt an attraction to him. The first time I had met him, his facial tattoo and body-mods, especially the stretched lip, had been a little off-putting, but now, with my creature dwelling my ass, I was on his side of the fence in that regard, so to speak, and I saw him as a handsome artist devoted to his craft, but with enough sense of adventure to try new endeavors. This frame of mind would be good for the shot. And perhaps later…
“Stop sweet-talking him, Jules! He’s not a customer!” Mikey boomed. “We’ve got work to do!”
My middle finger answered for me, but we followed him in the house.
Patrick quickly signed his and then headed to the bedroom to get ready.
“Now, this is what we talked about, Jules,” said Mikey with grave tone.
Debt. Apparently there had been a plan all along, which Mikey had shared only when I asked to give my financial contribution to my career’s launch. Had that been a test? That wasn’t clear. However, my mentor was going to become my exclusive agent and charge me for all he had done for me as my “marketing consultant”. The video I was about to record, for example, was to be considered self-promotion and I would pay for its production out of my own pocket. As cheap as he had kept it, it was still a lot of money. Still, I kept thinking that what I was going to earn even only from stripping was a lot of money too, and that would have never happened if it weren’t for that man.
“So, with this I’m relinquishing my soul to you, huh, old pervert?” I joked, to mask my nervousness.
A terrible suspicion of being taken advantage of kept haunting me. On an even deeper level, a part of me was aroused by the idea, the same part that loved to fantasize about him as my pimp.
“Well, considering how ironclad these papers are in binding you to my agency, you might as well see it as me screwing you in yet another position!” he chuckled.
He was Mikey, though, wasn’t he? I knew him, I trusted him. That was all victims of scammers said, however! Well, the truth was that there was no other way forward and I really wanted to go forward.
“Heh, at least you’ll do my taxes!” I shrugged, signing it with a trembling hand.
Now I owed him money, sure, but from my point of view, I would be forever in debt with him anyway. Besides, he allowed me to pay him in as many installments as I needed, without interests. So it was definitely the right move. Yes. Right?
“Good, now let’s have some fun!”
Yes, please! Anything to take my mind off my worries!
Patrick was sitting on my bed, fidgeting with the GoPro Mikey had procured. Ever since I had moved in, the room had completely been transfigured. In one of the first days in my mentor’s house, I had had fun painting the walls lilac, one of my favorite colors. Beside that and a couple of posters of the coralline reef, it hadn’t changed much until recently. My new job required a bigger wardrobe, so I had gotten an old one that I had found in a flea market while I had been waiting to start working. Thanks to a tutorial on the internet, I had refurbished it with an elegant glossy black paint and neon pink lines highlighting its tridimensional details. Mikey had also installed a pole in front of the bed and a huge mirror on the wall opposite it, so that I could practice my moves.
“You sure you don’t need a pill?” Mikey inquired of the tattooer.
“Nah, it’s going to be a short shot and she turns me on as hell,” Patrick replied, with the clear support of his cock, already bulging in his pants.
“Yeah, you are not like Mikey, who always needs help from his special blue friends!” I joked, getting a well-deserved spanking:
“Don’t believe a word out of her mouth!”
“So, are you excited to finally fuck your artwork?” I asked Patrick with a sultry voice, as I grabbed his dick through the fabric of his shorts and added: “Because I’m really curious to know how this ring of yours feels in my ass”!
Actually I was a little concerned about the thick ring that pierced his glans, but I had been stretching my asshole the whole afternoon to make sure I wouldn’t have problems. This was, after all, only my second real dick in the ass!
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