J. Watson - Farm girl in heat

The music was soft and sensuous as Donna Joe danced on a table in the middle of dozens of leering faces. She wore a skimpy blue halter, a pair of briefs and black high-heeled shoes with straps that wrapped around her lower leg. In one corner of the room there was a floodlight that made her body shine with dozens of different colors.

She could still hear Bo's voice ringing in her thoughts. "Baby, I can't put you downstairs. The police would have me locked up in a week. But I've got another place for you, kind of a private party with gentlemen."

This was why she was dancing on a table in the midst of men who wore business suits and seemed to be rich. They stared at her as if she were a piece of merchandise ready to be lifted off of the store counter.

The beat of the music grew faster, and she could feel it coursing through her, turning her into the wild, savage creature that these men had paid to see.

She felt no shame. The past few days had cured her of every feeling of shame. She had been drugged by pure pleasure, and would be willing to do anything as long as she felt that pleasure.

She felt a man's hand touch her legs and looked down. One of the grinning business-types had moved close to the table and started to feel her leg. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tank move toward the main [missing text]. He was very confident as he moved the drunk away and back to his own table. He did it so quickly that few people noticed.

It went on like that for quite a while. She had no idea of how long she'd been dancing when she felt a tap on her shoulder. A gorgeous redhead stepped up on the table and gave her a sympathetic look.

"You've been up here long enough, honey," she said. "Take a break."

She gave the redhead a look of gratitude as she stepped down from the table and fought her way through a jungle of hands to make her way back to her dressing room. She hadn't realized how tiring dancing could be. Every muscle in her body felt tired. She wanted a cool shower and a nap.

Instead, she found a man waiting for her. He was the same one that Tank had led away from her table a few minutes before.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

The man didn't answer, he just looked her up and down with leering eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated.

"I thought I'd sample some of that stuff you were showing off out there," he said.

"You thought you'd what?" Donna Joe asked him. She was shocked. "You get out of my room before I call for Tank again."

"Go ahead," the man said. "That's how I got in here. You've been bought and paid for."

She didn't believe it. She couldn't believe it. Bo wouldn't have allowed Tank to sell her like some kind of whore!

Then she knew it was true. That was exactly what Bo would do. She was simply merchandise, here to be sold when someone wanted to buy – and this man was hot for her.

"Now you be nice," he said. "I paid two hundred dollars for you, and I know you're going to be worth it. I never paid that much for a woman before."

"You get out of my room," she said.

He tried to grab her but she pushed him away. She screamed and starting hitting him, then heard the door open and saw Tank standing there. He had an ugly look on his face as he walked toward her.

She couldn't hit Tank. She was afraid of him. She put her hands to her sides and felt her whole body trembling.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I don't want that man in my room."

She never even saw his fist, but she felt it. The blow smashed the side of her head and sent her spinning into the wall. She tasted the blood on the inside of her mouth.

Tank looked bored. "She'll do what you want her to now," he said softly. "Anything you want."

"Hot damn!" the man said.

Tank walked out of the room, softly closing the door behind him. He wasn't worried about Donna Joe – she would do as the man wanted. He was sure of her.

He was right as she was very afraid of Tank. She turned her attention back to the man.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, a resigned look in her eyes.

"Now you're acting nice," he said. He took a seat in one of the dressing room chairs. "First I want you to dance for me, sugar, just like outside except I want you to take your clothes off."

There was no music but she knew he wasn't concerned about that. He only wanted to see her lush body. She began to sway, and at the same time reached behind her back and unhooked her halter top. She held it to her tits for a few moments before she slowly let it fall away from her twin peaks.

"Jesus," she man said. "My wife sure doesn't have a set like that! Jesus!"

She kept swaying as she slipped out of the panties. He took a long, hungry look at the thick patch between her legs and rubbed his crotch.

"No, baby," he said quickly. "Don't take your shoes off. I like to see a cunt wearing high-heels. It kind of makes my blood boil!"

She nodded and kept the shoes on as she danced for him. He didn't seem to tire of watching her move around the room. She heard the sound of his zipper and looked up in surprise. He had fished his big cock out of his trousers and held it tightly while his eyes watched her.

"Keep dancing, baby," he said.

He was a strange one. He seemed content to beat his own cock while he watched her move. She was tired and wished this was done. She wished she could just tell him to leave, but knew she couldn't. She was too afraid of Tank.

"Yeah, baby," he groaned. "Yeah. Now you come over here."

She went to him and he put his hands on her tits.

God, she moaned to herself, don't let it happen – don't let me feel anything! She could already feel the tight little shivers at the back of her neck and knew it was happening again. It happened whenever a man touched her.

"You feel real nice," he said. "I like touching your titties. You feel real nice!"

He moved his hands over her tits and down to her belly. She had to split her legs as she felt one hand on her cunt. His fingers wiggled between her legs and she shivered.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked. "You like having my fingers in your cunt."

"Yes," she admitted. "I like that."

He savagely crammed another finger into her cunt. She did like it! She liked the way his fingers moved around the inside of her cunt. She liked the way he made her wet and feel kind of weak all over.

"Sit on my prick, baby," he told her. "Sit on my Goddamn hard prick!"

She moved forward and sat on his lap. His cock easily slipped into her tight-fitting cunt as if it had been made to fit.

"Just sit still for a moment, sugar," he told her. "Just give me a chance to feel your hot twat."

She remained still but it was hard. Sitting in his lap excited her. Damn it, she was tired and was supposed to be able to control the feelings in her body, but she couldn't. There was something so wonderful about a man's cock, any man's cock.

"Now bounce a little," he told her. "Bounce while I give your sweet titties a good tonguing."

"Oh God," she groaned.

She started to bounce up and down while his hands stroked her back and ass. His mouth closed over one of her sensitive big nipples. She felt him suck her nipple between his teeth and use his tongue against the ridge. It made her go crazy, and she bounced a little faster.

"You little whore," he grunted. "You know your business. You sure earn your money!"

She didn't like to think of herself as earning money for sex, but that was what she was doing. She was a whore. He had the right to call her anything he pleased.

"Oh Jesus," she groaned. "What's happening to me?"

She was getting wetter, and his cock slid into her a little easier. Little ripples of pleasure pulsed through her body. She felt his prick push deeper into her belly each time he thrust upward off the chair.