Naked Secrets: Julie's Stripped Cover

My wife Julie was working on a graduate school project that was research into strip clubs and the sex industry. She got a job working as a waitress at a strip club to go under cover and interview employees while being inside the organization.

Julie adjusted the thin straps of her sequined top, the fabric barely covering her tits as she leaned over the bar to grab another round of drinks. The club’s neon lights strobed across her skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat from the packed crowd. She’d taken the waitressing gig for research—her sociology professor would be proud—but three nights in, the real education was happening off the books. A regular, thick fingers wrapped around a whiskey glass, watched her with a smirk. "Never seen you before. You new?" Julie flashed a practiced smile, her nipples hardening under the barely-there fabric. "Something like that." She let her hip brush his arm as she set down his drink. Behind her, a dancer rocked her hips on the pole, legs spread wide for the front-row crowd. Julie’s notepad was tucked in her waistband, but right now, all she could think about was the pulse between her thighs. The bass pounded through her, and when the man’s grip slid to her ass, she didn’t pull away. Research, she told herself. But the way his thumb pressed into the lace of her thong felt too good to be academic.

It was 3 weeks into Julie's job at the strip club and she wasn't terribly far along on her research. She had seen the manager fucking some of the strippers prior to their shift to get them "warmed up" for their clients in the VIP room.

The manager’s office door was slightly ajar when Julie passed, the rhythmic slapping of skin and breathy moans spilling into the hallway. She paused, peering through the gap to see him bent over the polished desk, driving into one of the dancers from behind while she clutched the wood, her tits swaying with every thrust. Julie’s breath hitched, her fingers absently tracing her own clit through the damp lace of her thong. Research—right. She should be taking notes. But the sight of the manager’s rough grip on the dancer’s hips, the way he pulled her hair to arch her back… A hand clamped down on her shoulder. "Enjoying the show?" The whiskey-scented regular from the bar smirked, his other hand already sliding under her skirt. His fingers found her slick folds easily. "Seems you’re warmed up too." Julie bit her lip, pressing back against him. The dancer in the office came with a sharp cry, the manager grunting as he finished inside her. Julie’s thighs clenched around the stranger’s fingers—fuck research. Tonight was about something far more hands-on.

The manager had repeatedly tried to get Julie to move on from waiting tables to stripping but she always refused. A couple of weeks later somehow the manager of the club found out about Julie's research project and said she need to commit to the job fully by the end of the week or he was going to have to let her go.

The manager’s grip tightened around Julie’s wrist as he pulled her into his office the next night, the scent of sex and spilled liquor still lingering in the air. His other hand flicked the lock behind them. "You think I run a fucking charity?" His voice was low, rough. "You either work the pole or you don’t work here at all." Julie’s pulse spiked, but she held his gaze. "I told you—I’m just here to observe." "Bullshit." His thumb traced the curve of her waist, dipping under the hem of her top. "You’ve been watching us. You like what you see." His other hand slid down her thigh, hitching her skirt up. "Prove you’re not just wasting my time." The desk was still warm from the dancer he’d fucked earlier. Julie’s back hit the surface as he pushed her down, his belt already undone. The zipper rasped, and then his cock was in her hand, thick and heavy. "Show me," he growled, guiding her fingers around him. Her breath caught. Research be damned—she couldn’t fake the way her hips lifted when his palm cupped her through her panties, damp fabric clinging. "You’re not saying no," he murmured, teeth grazing her neck. "So let’s see how committed you really are."

Julie managed to get out of the office by just giving him a hand job but she knew that if she didn't get her research by the end of the week she would have to make decision. When the end of the week came she walked into his office let her dress fall to the floor and bent over the desk fully naked silently communicating that she was committing and all in.

Julie bent over the desk, skin prickling under his stare. The manager exhaled sharply, his belt buckle clinking as he stepped closer. The rough heat of his palm trailed up the back of her thigh, spreading her open with deliberate pressure. "Smart girl," he muttered, spit-wet fingers dragging through her folds before pushing two inside without warning. Julie gasped, arching as he curled them, the stretch burning sweet. His other hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back. "Still observing, researcher?" She whimpered, thighs trembling. He pulled his fingers free, the slick sound obscene, and replaced them with the thick head of his cock. One sharp thrust buried him to the hilt. Julie cried out, nails scraping the desk as he set a brutal pace—no warm-up, no mercy. His grip shifted to her hips, slamming her back onto him with each snap of his pelvis. The desk shuddered under their weight, her tits bouncing with every impact. "Fuck your notes," he growled, leaning over her to bite her shoulder. "This is your fieldwork now." Julie's vision blurred; her moans came ragged, matching the slap of skin. Research could wait. The only thing that mattered was the raw, claiming drive of his hips.

After the manager fucked her that first time she became his favorite and he would fuck her before every shift. While Julie always tried to close the door he would make her leave it open so everyone who worked at the club would see her being fucked.

The door stayed open, just like he demanded. Julie braced her hands on the desk, the manager’s cock driving into her from behind as footsteps and catcalls echoed from the hallway. Her nipples tightened under the hungry stares of passing dancers, some pausing to watch—others laughing, whispering. "Louder," he grunted, spanking her ass hard enough to leave a mark. The sting made her gasp, but she obeyed, moaning as he fucked her deeper, rougher. His fingers dug bruises into her hips, keeping her spread for anyone who cared to look. A bouncer leaned against the doorframe, smirking as he lit a cigarette. "New pre-shift ritual, huh?" The manager didn’t slow down. "Only for employees who earn it." He yanked Julie’s hair, forcing her back against his chest. "Tell him how much you love your job." Her breath hitched as his thumb found her clit, circling just enough to tease. "I—fuck—I love it," she panted, hips rolling to meet his thrusts. The bouncer exhaled smoke, eyes dark with approval. "Sounds like a promotion to me." The manager’s chuckle was low, possessive. His teeth sank into her shoulder as he came, filling her while the club watched. Julie shuddered, knowing tomorrow would be the same. And she’d take it—every damn time.

As the manager was fucking Julie in her pre shift warm up the Alcohol enforcement officer came in to talk to the manager. Julie tried to stand up and cover herself in embarrassment but the manager held her down and kept fucking her. When he was done he turned to the officer and asked "do you want to have a go?"

Julie’s breath caught as the uniformed officer stepped into the office, his boots scraping against the floor. She tensed, trying to push up from the desk, but the manager’s grip on her hips locked her in place. His cock still buried inside her, he gave a slow, deliberate thrust, forcing a whimper from her throat. The officer’s eyes flickered—first to Julie’s flushed face, then lower, where her body was pinned beneath the manager’s. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. "Just finishing up," the manager drawled, rolling his hips in a lazy, possessive rhythm. Julie’s cheeks burned, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the desk as he dragged his cock nearly out before slamming back in. The officer’s stare was heavy, but he didn’t move, didn’t speak—just watched as the manager fucked her in front of him. When the manager finally groaned, his release pulsing deep inside her, Julie bit her lip to stifle a shaky moan. He pulled out with a wet sound, turning toward the officer with a smirk as Julie’s thighs trembled. He wiped his cock on her skirt before tucking himself away. "Well?" he asked, nodding toward Julie, still bent over the desk. "Want a turn?" The officer’s gaze darkened. He stepped forward, unbuttoning his cuffs with slow precision. "Don’t mind if I do."

While the officer was fucking Julie she was so embarrassed realizing that the manager was now pimping her out. Her research had gone to an all new level as a full blown prostitute. She knew she was going to be whored out a lot now.

Julie’s stomach twisted as the officer’s belt buckle clinked open, but she didn’t dare move. The manager’s hand pressed between her shoulder blades, keeping her pinned to the desk as the officer stepped behind her. His fingers traced the curve of her ass, still damp from the manager’s grip, before spreading her wide. She gasped when he pushed inside—no teasing, no warm-up, just one brutal thrust that made her nails dig into the wood. His uniform pants were still around his thighs, the stiff fabric brushing the backs of her legs as he set a punishing pace. The manager leaned against the desk beside her, lighting a cigarette while he watched. "Good girl," he murmured, exhaling smoke. "Earning your keep." Julie whimpered, the officer’s cock driving deeper with each snap of his hips. The humiliation burned hotter than the stretch—knowing anyone could walk in, knowing the manager would offer her up again without hesitation. The officer’s hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head up. "Look at me," he ordered, voice rough. Her vision blurred as she obeyed, her reflection in the office window showing her flushed face, her skirt shoved up, her body used and waiting for the next man. The officer’s thrusts turned erratic, his grip tightening as he growled, "Take it." She did, shuddering as he came inside her, marking her just like the manager had. When he pulled out, the manager was already on the phone, his tone casual. "Yeah, she’s available. Just tell the bouncer to send ‘em back." Julie swallowed hard. This was her job now.