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From: Delta Venus <delta_venus_x@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Birthday Bash by Delta Venus {exhib}
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Date: Fri, 03 Apr 2009 20:10:02 -0400
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Birthday Bash - a Samantha's Shame Story
 by Delta Venus

Copyright 2009


My name is Samantha, Sam for short. This is another installment in the
journal of my shame that my bitch sister, Betsy, is making me write.
She left me alone for a week or so after the last embarassing episode,
where my embarassment had been controlled by a specially programmed
cell phone (see "There's An App For That"). I welcomed the break, but
in the back of my mind I knew that it only meant Betsy was working on
something diabolical, something significantly more intense than I had
previously been forced into.


My birthday was coming up on Saturday, and I began to dread it instead
of looking forward to it. Most people would be very happy to turn 16,
anticipating that they would soon be getting their driver's license, a
major milestone. I was happy about that, but the lack of abuse from
Betsy leading up to my special day was giving me the heebie-jeebies. I
grew more and more certain that she had special plans for my special
day, and I wasn't going to be happy about them.


My parents threw me a pretty cool party, all my friends showed up for
BBQ, we ate like pigs and swam in our pool. Money has been a bit
tight, so I didn't get a car, like my sister had when she turned 16,
but I did get a key to the family car, and got enrolled in a driver
training class that will help me get my license sooner than I would
have if I had to wait until the fall to take Driver's Ed in school.
After the afternoon was over, and all my friends had left, Betsy
grabbed me and hauled me out to her VW. I knew it! I was in for
another embarassing episode for sure.


We drove to the neighboring town, which I was becoming all too
familiar with, and made our way into the college area. Betsy parked in
front of what looked like a frat house, complete with greek letters
above the door. I could hear a loud party going on inside. I began to
get some serious butterflies in my stomach. What would I have to do
this time? How far was Betsy going to take things? I actually was so
nervous, I didn't get widly turned on like I usually do when I'm about
to be subjected to humiliations and embarassments. I thought I might
be sick. Betsy must have noticed, because she took a moment to
reassure me.


"Don't look so freaked out, Sam. You're not going to do anything you
won't enjoy doing, you fucking slut. I'm not going to get you gang-
banged or anything, you are just going to pay back the football
players that helped out in the park by being a waitress for them at
their party. No worries!" She laughed. Her laugh didn't really set me
at ease, but I did calm down a little bit. Betsy had been good about
keeping within certain limits so far, they weren't the limits I would
have picked given a choice, but they were limits nonetheless and she
seemed to be keeping anyone from touching me. People would get an
eyeful, and I might have to touch myself, but no one had been allowed
to touch me. The skateboard geek who had touched me in the park had
gotten pounded by football players, it was those football players who
were holding this party that I was supposed to be a waitress for.


Thinking about being touched, and how the big ass football guys had
easily crushed the geek who did it, caused a little warmth down below.
I was sure I would be showing off for those beefy, butch dudes before
too long, and while still very nervous, I was falling into my usual
pattern of arousal at the thought of being exposed and embarassed. I
began to blush a little thinking about what I slut I must be to get
turned on as we were walking up the sidewalk to a frat house, where my
sister would basicly be pimping me out. I should still be freaking
out, not getting gooey panties.


The door was open, so we went right in. The place was full of guys who
looked like they played football, they were all huge! The black guy
from the park adventure saw us come in, and hurried over to greet us.


"Alright! Glad you could make it, ladies. Come right this way, and
we'll get you set up."


He led us back into the house, to a spare room off the kitchen, and
pointed out some clothes laying on a table.


"There's the uniform, Betsy. Have her put it on, and get busy." He
started to leave, but Betsy quickly stopped him.


"You don't need to go. Don't you want to see the merchandise?" she
giggled. "Sam, strip your clothes off, and get that uniform on, and
don't fuck around!"


I must have turned bright red. I could feel the heat of all that blood
rushing to the surface of my skin. I hesitated for a moment, and Betsy
slapped my face and barked "Get your fucking clothes off, now, bitch,
and get that uniform on!" I could see that shocked the football player
for a second, and then he seemed amused. He certainly wanted to see
what would happen next, especially if it involved me getting naked. I
took my clothes off in a hurry, before Betsy could really get worked
up. She is scary when she is pissed, and I wanted to get out of there
without having some real serious shit go down. The black football
player was enjoying the view for sure, his eyes travelled my body up
and down repeatedly, slowing to enjoy the curves.


The uniform wasn't too bad. I don't usually wear a bra, because I
don't really need to yet, but there was a black lacy bra, more like a
half-bra. I put that on. There were also a pair of black thong
panties. I pulled those on, too. Then there was a half-shirt tank top,
sort of like the Hooter's girls wear. That went on, and it was a bit
tight, but fit OK. It left the tops of my tits showing while holding
them up tightly, the lines of the bra were quite visible, and my belly
was fully exposed. A short skirt finished off the outfit, and it was
mini enough that if I moved too quickly or bent over at all, my ass
cheeks, fully exposed because of the thong, would be showing. It beat
being naked, but not by a whole lot. I was showing a lot of skin, and
was packaged to show it in a very sexual manner.


"Very nice," said Betsy's friend. "The guys are going to love you.
Now, we aren't serving any booze, so you don't have to worry about
taking orders, or anything like that. Just fetch pitchers of beer from
the keg in the kitchen to the tables and groups of guys that want
them. That's all you have to do. If anyone gets out of hand, just
holler, and I'll take care of it."


"OK, Jerry. Sam may be a silly slut, but I think she can handle that."
said Betsy.


Now at least I knew the black guy's name - Jerry. I clung to it, like
his eyes were still clinging to my cleavage. He didn't want to look
away, and I was glad to have at least one guy I sort of knew here in
this house full of testosterone. The noise of the party was getting to
me a bit, I hadn't seen many girls here, it was almost all big men. I
felt small and vulnerable, and to make things worse, feeling small and
vulnerable added to my embarassment, which of course pushed all the
wrong buttons and made me blush even more than getting naked in front
of Jerry had, no matter how quick it was over. My heart was pounding,
and each beat seemed to rush blood to my pussy, and I felt each
throbbing pulse in my clit. My nipples were straining against the
unfamiliar restraint of the bra and the tightness of the tank top.


To get my mind off my muff, I quickly headed out to the kitchen, and
started in on the job at hand - hauling beer for drunken football
party goers and their guests. If I thought I'd get over being horny,
and feeling vulnerable and exposed, I had another thing coming. All
the guys attention was on me any time I came near, and it was obvious
what they were paying attention to. I rarely got eye contact, they
were too busy looking at everything else I had on display. I quickly
discovered that the line I had imagined earlier, that Betsy wouldn't
let me be touched, was an illusion. These guys were worse than a
boatload of octopuses, their hands were everwhere! The thong left my
ass bare under the skirt, and it was subject to constant slaps,
pinches, and caresses. More than a few cupped both cheeks and pulled
me into direct contact with their raging erections, only thier
trousers and the thin layer of the thong panties separating us.


If it hadn't been for that thong, my pussy would have had numerous
fingers in it, and my tits were constantly being fondled, weighed,
patted, pulled, pinched and kneeded. I felt like my chest was made of
play dough, but my nipples were responding strongly, standing proud
and erect, loving every pinch and pull. I was soaking the thong, too.
More than one guy commented on how wet I was, and that wasn't even
close to the worst of the nasty things they said to me, and about me
to their buddies. They were treating me like a whore, and I felt like
one - a nasty, sexed up tart of a whore who got off on the rough
treatment. The only thing that kept it from being too much was how
busy they kept me. These guys were thirsty, and I was in constant
motion, bringing pitcher after pitcher of beer from the kegs in the
kitchen to the other rooms in the frat house, including many many
trips up and down the stairs to the second floor. Each trip up the
stairs I got whistled at, as the short skirt left nothing to the
imagination of the guys looking up from below.


Betsy finally grabbed me after one of my runs up the stairs, and
hauled me out into the back yard. I was dripping with sweat, which had
soaked the tank top through, so that I looked like an entry in a wet t-
shirt contest, and welcomed the break. A lot of guys watched her haul
me out, and they all followed along. There were already a lot of guys
out back, and they were all facing a small impromptu stage set up
between two patios. Betsy pulled me towards the stage, and I froze and
began to panic! She wouldn't! Oh, god, she would! She practically
dragged me up a short set of stairs next to the stage area, and behind
some curtains that were hanging there. She slapped me so hard my ears
rang. It snapped me out of the panic, but I was trembling. Partly from
fear, partly from excitement. I knew what was going to happen next,
even before Betsy told me.


"You are the night's entertainment, slut. You will celebrate your
sweet sixteen by being a stripper! Get out on that stage, and do your
best to turn all those horny football players on by doing the sexiest
strip show you can. If you don't, I will rip your clothes off myself,
and leave you here all alone. From what I've seen the guys doing to
you already, I don't think you'll stay a virgin for very long if that
happens! Do what I tell you, and you'll get out of here without
getting gangbanged."


What could I do? I was about to faint, but I was also on fire. Betsy
turned on a boom box, and cranked the tunes, and I stepped out from
behind the curtains onto the bare stage, and began to dance. The guys
exploded! Cheers and whistles and stomping and clapping, hoots of
"Take it off, baby!" and cruder suggestions filled the air. I really
didn't know what the hell I was doing, but I tried my best, and the
guys didn't seem to care. I'd seen plenty of strip acts in movies and
stuff, but I had never practiced any of the moves or anything, so I
was awkward and definitely not up to professional, or even amateur,
standards. It wasn't an issue. I was a hot looking 16 year old girl,
very obviously arroused, getting naked, and the guys went apeshit.


The tank top went first, not that it mattered, it was already see-thru
from my sweat. Next was the skirt, and again it didn't really matter,
it hadn't been covering much, and everyone had already seen - and felt
up! - my ass most of the evening. I kept dancing, trying to be sexy,
imitating things I seen in the movies, and I sucked at it. Sucking
made me even more humiliated, and being debased like this in front of
so many horny dicks had my pussy dripping, my heart about to explode,
my nerve endings all on fire.


There had to be fifty guys in the yard, all watching me make a total
fool out of myself. A naked, slutty fool. I peeled the bra off. It was
sticking to my heated, sweaty flesh, and at the first exposure of my
rock hard nipples, the crowd hollered and hooted like a raging animal.
The whistles and hoots made my newly exposed nips even harder, which I
wouldn't have thought possible. I could feel the beating of my heart
in every extremity, especially the sensitive areas. My mind was empty,
I was entirely a mass of raging hormones, lost to lust, completely
abandoned to the twin sensations of total humiliation and total
arousal. I wanted to die, I wanted to run, I wanted to get fucked, I
wanted to cum, I didn't know what the fuck I wanted. I danced.


I don't even remember taking off the thong. I think I remember hearing
an awesome hush, followed by a unanimous cheer, but I wasn't there any
more, so I really couldn't tell you. I was floating in a cloud, a
cloud of firey caresses across my skin. The world wasn't real, and I
was nothing but sensations and sensuality, I no longer felt embarassed
or debased, I had left all that behind, and I've never been closer to
having an orgasm without actually having one. I snapped back to
reality as Betsty grabbed me. She yanked me behind the curtains, threw
the skirt and tank at me, and began dragging me up the rest of the
stairs into the house next to the frat party house. I managed to tug
on the tank, and trip into the skirt as she pulled me along, still
dazed at my almost transcendental experience on stage.


"Come on! We've got to get you out of here. You were too much! You
can't dance for shit, but that was one of the hottest things I've ever
seen. I thought you were going to lay down right there, spread open,
and finger fuck yourself silly. If we don't get you out of here right
now, you are going to get fucked, fucked hard! There is no way those
horny dicks are going to let you escape. Move your ass!"


We hauled ass through the adjoining house, and burst out into the
street.


"There she is!" hollered one of the jocks, and a stampede of guys
poured out of the frat house. We made it to Betsy's VW, and for once
she didn't fuck around about letting me in. We peeled out of there
seconds after we got to the car, we could have set records. Betsy kept
looking in the mirror to make sure we weren't being followed, but the
guys were all way too drunk, and once I was out of sight, they gave up
the chase. She slowed down at the corner, and there was Jerry.


He waved, and hollered "Thanks, Betsy! That was the fucking best show
I've ever seen! Bye, Sam, you are one hot fucking slut! Call me when
you finally decide you want to fuck a man, instead of just teasing."


I don't remember the drive home. Betsy told me I masturbated the whole
way, and that she had to ditch several guys who caught a glimpse of me
in action, the short skirt up around my hips, and the tank top all but
torn off. I wandered into our house, and up to my room in a daze.
Sweet sixteen, and never been kissed - but I had stripped for a whole
frat house full of guys who had felt me up all night. Ashamed and
embarassed at what a slut I was, I nonetheless realized something
powerful about the shame and humiliation.


I really got off on it, and I was ready. This slut wanted to get
fucked.


Happy Birthday!


        DV

http://www.geocities.com/delta_venus_x/

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