For David

Posted by Barbanne on August 07, 2001 at 00:05:56:


Ah the wonders of commerce!
The capitalist ethic.
Let me explain.
If you have something to sell, sell it!
That's what got me the job in the Shinyroku Club doing the cabaret act known as "Oil Kill."
I had backpacked into Japan and then run out of cash.
I am forever running out of cash and this was no exception. I tried waiting table in a Japanese restaurant but it wasn't like the Pizza Palace back home and I stuffed up something cruel.
Out on my ear.
Then I saw the ad for a western girl to appear in a cabaret act at the Shinyroku Club, a club for Japanese gentlemen (and their wives or girlfriends) with a taste for the bizarre. (I didn't know that at the time) I applied for the job and walked it in. Then I had to show up for a rehearsal and found out why not too many other girls had put in for this particular job.
I had to appear in a piece called "Oil Kill"
This little drama consisted of me and a really tall and muscular Japanese girl wrestling on stage, naked and dripping in oil, (vegetable) and after screaming at each other and tearing at each other's hair and gnashing our teeth, she, being way bigger than me, gets me down. Each time she does and I try to escape I slip on the oil and get pinned once more by my pursuer. Lots of dripping fingernails and oily hair and bums and breasts and knees and two rolling, squirming, thrashing nudes. At last she gets me on my back and bites me on the breasts and butt and finally strangles me slowly and sexily and after writhing and wriggling and gasping and groaning I then got to lie sprawled out and "dead" with my spread legs facing the front row patrons and my pussy yawning, slick and gleaming and oily for all to see while she paraded triumphantly around my body.
The guys in the audience loved it!
So did most of the girls!!!!
Then to a thunderous round of applause she dragged my sagging "corpse" from the stage, my tongue hanging loosely from the side of my mouth and my eyes crossed, or shut (depending on how much oil got in them) and my heels scoring two shiny track marks in the oil.
It was OK and they paid really well.
The Japanese girl was good too and we were quite friendly although when she was biting me and choking me she looked terribly fearsome and I looked terrified and squeaked a lot but it was all make believe and then I was really good at being dead.
Nude, limped right out and showing everything.
Oil Kill, quite a show!
It wasn't the only weird act on the bill.
A girl called Ooanna did another turn called Harakiri.
Nude and made up all white like a geisha she used a samurai sword to stab at herself in slow erotic movements and, what the audience couldn't see were these little cellophane bags full of stage blood she had taped everywhere and coloured like her skin, and whenever she punctured one of these blood oozed or flowed or fountained until at last, much perforated and covered in streaks of gore she swooned and was carried from the stage.
They really loved that.
Even more than my dead pussy being hauled away.
The Shinyroku club taught me to make a buck from what I was born with.
Back home I met David.
He, I discovered, was prepared to reward me for fulfilling his fantasies.
His all time favourite was when I play acted a gunslinger for him.
You know, like in the old west.
For this my costume which I dreamed up myself consisted of a pair of tooled cowboy boots, (made in Taiwan) a stetson and a leather gunbelt, you know the type with little leather loops for bullets, (didn't have the bullets) and a holster and replica six shooter. Sometimes I wore a string necktie with a plastic cows horn buckle. Dressed, (or undressed) like this I would do a sort of cowgirl dance around his living room wiggling my ass and shaking my tiny tits and humping my poon at him until when he was sufficiently aroused he would produce his own gun and we would have a shoot out that inevitably led to my clutching my breasts and dropping my gun and going down and out, shot "dead."
Then he would get me by the armpits and drag me around some while I played dead for all I was worth. Sometimes he carried me, but mostly he dragged me and then he laid me out somewhere, often the floor, but also quite often on a bed and then he would fondle me and play with me and my female bits before mounting me and fucking me stupid.
During this game, once I had been shot I was not allowed to display any signs of life at all but had to play dead very convincingly.
I was good at that.
Then one day, after I had been shot down, he carried me right out of the house and put me, naked but for boots and belt, in the front seat of his car and drove me to a cemetery where he laid me out on a gravestone and fucked me there. I was proud of myself and didn't at any stage break out of my being quite limp and "dead."
He liked this so much that after that he would regularly take me, nude and "dead," for a ride slumped and seat belted into the front seat of his car.
I don't know what excuse he had for the cops if they pulled us over but it was going to be interesting. I never moved during any of these drives and if we had been stopped I was determined to just lie there slumped into my seatbelt and open mouthed and shut eyed.
Wonder what they'd make of that?
Tonight he really got excited and humped me furiously after having shot me down DEAD!!!!
Should be worth that Rado watch I have admired for so long.
I have another game in mind for David.
With my makeup pencil I will draw a little snake's face on the tip of his cock and then as I lounge around, after some sexy dancing, in a couple of baubles and some beads and a scrap of transparent material, overly made up to look like Cleopatra he can "bite" me with his death adder (hah hah) and then my killed Egyptian Queen body will be his to do what he wants with.
I have in mind to score a little Peugeot with this act.
Like I said, Ah the wonders of commerce.
Hope you don't think I'm just a gold digger.
Oh no!
Its not just for the money, I'm an artiste.
Tee hee hee hee hee..................