All images in this fictional work were created by the author. All models in these photos are 18 years of age or older, and are fully consenting participants in the creation of these images.

CHAPTER 4: MANILA*

*With thanks to my editor – Chris6160

My husband, my gorgeous man was sent to Manila on an assignment and sent for me to join him. We rented a small apartment in Makati, a company district of Manila. Initially I spent the first few days recovering from jet lag and in the evenings we would go to a restaurant followed by a bar. Over several nights we visited most of the bars in the locality and what struck me as unusual was that all of them had scantily dressed young women dancing on a stage, sometimes serving drinks. Each of them had something of a brothel feel about them but, as husband explained, this was ordinary of almost every bar. They were not exactly the same as a brothel. Clients were welcome to just drink and were not necessarily expected to pay to sleep with the girls. The girls were expected to sit with the clients if invited, but they were free to decline any offer of paid sex. Any paid sex would be strictly off the premises.

It was a purely chance happening that started the next big event in my evolution of having my body become a eager piece of owned flesh. The bars were all darkly lit and, on returning from visiting the ladies’ room, I approached my husband from behind and sat next to him, stroking his thigh. There was a roar of laughter from the next table; I had sat down next to the wrong man. It was the look in the stranger’s eyes – the sheer lust and disbelief – that made me feel very horny indeed. The exhibitionist in me loved his eyes roaming every inch of my body. I didn’t tell my husband of this when I offered my apologies to the stranger and returned. Somehow, he sensed what I was thinking from my expression. He was thoughtful and quiet for the rest of the evening as if hatching a plan. The idea of being one of the bar girls quickly became a fantasy for me. I did not want to prostitute myself, but the exhibitionist in me wanted to have my body admired and, perhaps, fondled over a drink.

The next evening my husband asked me to change into a sexy outfit before visiting another bar. My husband explained that he had come to know the bar owner quite well and would like me to meet him. I began to develop a slight suspicion that some plan was afoot but I was only too ready to play along if my new fantasy was to be fulfilled. The outfit I chose was calculated to provoke male interest. Below is a photo from my husband’s collection of me in the very same outfit is here for you to enjoy.

On the way to the bar my husband asked if I would like to try being a bar girl for the night. The sly one had realised what I was thinking. I agreed with no hesitation but made it clear that I wouldn’t be eager to leave with another man for money.

When we got to the bar we joined the owner for a drink. I flirted with him outrageously but couldn’t quite discover the courage to ask about becoming a bar girl for a night. Although he clearly found me very sexy, I could tell that it was simply unthinkable for him to ask a customer’s wife to dance in a bar. Fortunately, my husband came to the rescue. The owner was not enthusiastic at first because too many customers would want to take me home, which I would not consent to. Seeing my disappointment and, no doubt, spotting a profitable opportunity he came up with a proposal.

The Philippines Independence Day was about one week away and would be a “special” night. Bar girls would usually wear very little, often just a bikini, but it was illegal for them to be naked. On special celebrations only the girls would, at some time in the evening, strip naked. This would at all times attract a large crowd, bringing sufficient funds to bribe the police. If I could provide some saucy photos to attract customers I could help to fill the bar with customers. I would not be expected to leave with any clients but I would expected to be naked at the appropriate time and to take drinks with customers between dances. It was to be expected that some fondling would occur. I did my best to agree in a calm and dignified manner but inside I simply couldn’t wait for it to happen. Deep inside my feelings and sexual desire were close to bursting. I couldn’t wait to show off my body to an admiring, horny audience and to feel those hands running over my naked flesh. I did notice my husband taking the owner to one side and them both laughing conspiratorially but my I didn’t think much of it.

After a week that seemed to never end the evening finally came and, as it approached, I felt my pussy moisten at the wondered. I think that this is a photo of the outfit my husband chose but I was too horny to notice. It wasn’t gonna stay on for long anyway.

The early stages were quiet and when not dancing I chatted with the other bar girls. By about 9:30 the bar had started to fill and customers continued to flood in. The bar owner took me apart and thanked me profusely for my photos which had attracted so much custom. It was clear from the lewd comments, which I just lapped up, that many had come to see my nude body. The girls were each given a break from dancing to sit and take drinks with the customers but my turn still hadn’t come when the signal came to remove clothing. I carried on dancing naked in the most provocative manner that I could, gyrating my hips and turning my back and bending to provide a view of my pussy.

The bar owner knew his company and signalled me to take drinks now that I was naked. In no time I was bought more drinks than I could consume and hands were roaming over my nude flesh from every direction. This did not trouble me at all. In fact I was trying hard not to orgasm. When one bold individual went a step too far and slipped a finger into my pussy he was able to tell all how moist with juices it was, to the delight of the crowd. All of sudden there was loud shouting and the crowd around me parted. A uniformed policeman had appeared, bringing the bar owner with him. The policeman was young, handsome and clearly worked out in the gym. He looked my body up and down slowly and carefully. I was torn between terror of being arrested and desire. The owner had claimed that I had broken his rules and the law without his consent by removing my clothes and allowing myself to be groped.

After some discussion the policeman was insistent that I must be arrested and kept in police cells naked until a legal hearing could be arranged. I was desperate to avoid such a fate. The bar owner suggested that he should punish me himself on stage. This would set an example to lewd foreigners and provide entertainment to the customers. Like most people I tend to panic when disaster strikes and don’t think straight. With hindsight it had all the signs of a set up. He probably wasn’t even a real policeman but I gladly agreed. There was something in my exhibitionist and submissive nature that thrilled at the prospect of my nude body being punished for public entertainment.

A short while later some equipment was brought onto the stage and my arms were cuffed to a bar above my head and my ankles to hooks on the floor. My nude body faced the crowd about two metres back from the front of the stage, legs aside and helpless. I struggled not to come at the wondered of what was about to happen. I saw the policeman remove his belt, a thick black leather one. He approached and ran his hands all over my body carefully, as if inspecting meat. Unexpectedly he kissed me and my tongue gladly kissed back. “Are you ready?” he asked. I nodded.

The first few blows were to the top of my thighs and then a few to my abdomen. The loud thwacks could be clearly heard by the now silent crowd. I looked down to see the first red stripes on my flesh. The pain was not too bad. I had faced worse and wanted my body to suffer anyway. It did not last long until the crowd started to chant “harder, harder”. The blows continued at a steady pace, to my thighs and abdomen again and then to my breasts. These harder blows started to sting more but the crowd were noisily cheering each one.

After a while the beating stopped. I thought if it was now over. It hurt but it also felt wonderful for my body to be so publicly and cruelly treated; a fantasy made real. Somewhere in the process I came but it was probably unnoticed as I flinched from the blows. However, I was wrong; it wasn’t over. I was turned around so that my back faced the crowd, Shortly the first hard blows fell, firstly on my rear and then on the back of my thighs. I could feel the heat as my buttocks reddened and each thwack could be clearly heard above the cheers. After a while this too stopped. I assumed the beating was over and felt a mixture of relief and disappointment.

I was turned around again to face the audience. I was only at this point that I noticed the whole episode was being put on video and the camera was panning up and down my front to obtain close-ups of the red marks on my body. I didn’t mind; the more people that ended up wanking over my tortured body the better. Again came another cry from the back which spread through the crowd; “whip the pussy, whip the pussy”. He approached me again and asked, “Have you had enough or are you willing to treat the crowd?” I wasn’t sure but I nodded limply. Perhaps sensing my hesitation the blows were softer than before but each strike sent a red hot pain through my labia. I started to struggle more from the pain and it finally stopped. I was left to hang, panting with my body and pussy burning from the whipping. But it wasn’t the pain that counted. I had wanted so much for my naked body to be cruelly treated and I was building up to another orgasm. It could not have been better.

A table was wheeled onto the stage and I was released from my cuffs and was shackled to the table on my back with legs aside. The policeman removed his trousers and underpants and started to fuck me. He was clearly very aroused and attacked with vigour, to more cheering. I could see his enormous cock, erect and ready to ravage my body. I don’t remember ever seeing one quite that long and thick. With hindsight I imagine he was probably a male stripper (hence the police uniform). He didn’t wait. There was no need for foreplay as I was ready for action. There was no hesitation or gentleness. That enormous cock was thrust forcefully and deeply into my wet pussy. Thrust followed thrust quickly and forcefully into my helpless body. Rough sex it was and I was ripe to be helplessly ravaged. I could tell how excited he was from the violence of each thrust. He was a talker too, telling me how sexy it was to whip and then fuck my body roughly.

My body felt tremors of pleasure pulse through it. As I felt the orgasm start my eyes rolled back in their sockets and I moaned loudly. Before long I had the most gorgeous gushing orgasm. I could not remember ever having such wonderful sex. The mix of exhibition of my body, the cruel treatment and the knowledge that I caused so many men to involuntarily ejaculate was almost too much pleasure to take.

Some clothing was found for me and I was finally released, still in the dreamy post orgasm state. I was taken to a back room and given a drink. The bar owner was gushing – the best show he had ever given his customers and would I do it again soon please? Before I could reply my grinning husband appeared to tell me how proud he was of me and my sexy body. At this point I finally realised that it had been a set-up and the policeman was not real. I felt a tinge of annoyance but soon realised that he had helped realise my deepest and most powerful fantasies without me having to accept any responsibility for it. Moreover, so far from home no-one back there would know. We would also receive a copy of the video so that I could re-live the experience and truly see my body abused and beaten without feeling the pain.

I would love to be able to distribute a photo of my performance with you but photography was not allowed. I still have the video though, which was a special arrangement for my husband. This photo was taken at our apartment just before leaving for the club. Unlike me my husband knew what was coming and wanted an image of my soon to be abused bare flesh. Nor would I let him take a photo of my sore and reddened body when we returned to the apartment. I was far too hungry and impatient to be fucked another time.