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Always take care of your guests . . .
Part One - Click to view |
Part Two - Click to view |
Part Three - Click to view |
"There is nothing that can be done. It has chosen you. I don't know what you did to catch the attention of this place's all-knowing eye; it can't be good. You think I'm here of my own free will? I'm here because the bar wants me to be." The barkeep looked into Kimberly's pleading eyes but they offered no solace or hope in return. "Just accept your new life. There are much things worse than being a beautiful woman."
She blushed at the compliment, something of a reflex at this point. This body liked being told it was pretty. It awakened some longing inside of Kimberly. Even now, the heat was pulsing, stirring. The club hadn't even opened and she was thinking about the possibility of one of the patrons bending her over in one of the private rooms in the back.
The lingering part of her that was still Erik wished she had never found this place. And yet, it had been such an untapped environment of beautiful women. That night, he had taken three girls to the back room, each one more stunning the the last. The final one left him laying on the couch panting to catch his breath. He glanced to the side and noticed the blue dress lying next to him and tried to get her attention, but she was already out the door before Erik could speak. The silky, clingy material felt so good in his hands. His hands rubbed it again and again, the excitement growing again. But he didn't go out and try to hunt a new girl - this time some compulsion demanded he put the dress on. His fingers trembled as he reached down, trying to resist this unseen force. But it was stronger than he was.
The cool fabric rustled up against his body as the dress fell over his head. Despite his resistance, the garment felt good against his skin. A soft falsetto moan flew from his lips, lapsing into a throaty purr as Erik's fingers pulled the dress down. He shook his head, suddenly aware of thick tendrils tickling his neck. Dainty fingers toyed with the hem before letting it slide over thick hips. There was no underwear against the soft mound between his thighs but something subdued any panic within the new girl. The conflict between male and female struggled inside her mind, but the feminine part was winning the battle. When she stood to leave the room, Kimberly was firmly in control of her - the Erik side now a passenger. The three other girls were waiting outside the room, gathered to welcome her.
"You were chosen and the spirit has made you one of us. We are its caretakers." Even as the woman spoke, Kimberly's mind was being filled with the knowledge needed for her new role. She would seek out the high rollers and keep them satisfied. The hostess of the club would distract men from naive girls. She was an unobtainable fantasy that made this club thrive. Her life as Erik was over, but Kimberly would remain vibrant and youthful as long as the club needed her. During those hours, Kimberly’s control was absolute. In the waning hours after the patrons have left, Erik could influence her enough to try to communicate with the others. They, like the barkeep offered nothing but more rhetoric. Now Erik could only try to hold onto his old memories - if he didn’t, he worried he might give into to Kimberly for good.
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