Sissy Victoria descended into basement of the old Victorian asylum. She had received a phone call from Mistress that she should arrive immediately as her services were required. In the lap dancing club, in the basement. Mistress had ghostly clients that Victoria needed to service. 

The basement of the old Victorian building, that may have been an asylum or maybe a school had been converted into a low-lit, opulent lounge. Plush velvet booths lined the walls, and a single, polished brass pole stood in the centre of a small circular stage. 

The air smelled of cigar smoke, expensive whiskey and sex . 

Mistress emerged from a heavy velvet curtain. She was a vision of severe elegance, black corset cinching a waist Victoria could only dream of, stern obsidian eyes cut through the gloom like a switchblade through soft unsuspecting flesh.

Victoria had been summoned. And she had come. Of course she had. Since the first night Mistress had found her—and saw the potential beneath the fear. 

Mistress Psyche had sculpted him into Victoria, Victoria was Mistress’  creation, her living doll. And tonight, the doll was to perform for a very special clientele.

“They are remnants,” Mistress Psyche said gliding closer to adjust the strap of Victoria’s negligee, to show more cleavage

“Echoes of desire that were too strong to fade with the body. You will make them feel.

A soft, collective sigh seemed to ripple through the room, though the booths were empty to Victoria’s eyes. 

“On the stage. Now,” 

Mistress commanded

 “Start slow. Let them… acclimate to you.”

Victoria’s approached the pole, her reflection a blurry smudge of pink in its surface.

She began to move, a simple rotation around the pole. She let the silk robe slip from one shoulder. The sigh in the room became a murmur, a vibration, that caused  hot tingle to appear as a blush in her cheeks which moved to her hard nipples and spread down to her panties and into her pussy, causing the lips to swell and moisten  

Then, came the first touch.

It was not a hand. It was a presence, a masculine presence that brushed up the back of her thigh, over the curve of her buttock. 

Victoria gasped. 

 

It was like an electric warm tingle affectionate but somehow  endearingly needy. A second male presence joined the first, a colder caress this time, but more manly. It began as an essence . A slight smell of fresh cigars smoke and expensive brandy and  cohered into a firm hard that skimmed over her collarbone, dipping into the valley between her breasts and moving sensually across her breast to her hard nipple and lingering there. 

Mistress Psyches voice cut through the haze like a sharp scalpel dissecting the tendons of a corpse . “They’re just saying hello.”

Victoria continued her dance, her movements becoming more fluid, more suggestive. Curving her back, pushing her big breasts up to the cold pole rubbing the pole suggestively between them as the sensations intensified. 

They became became more intense cupping  her breasts , caressing the wet silk of her panties and squeezing with a pressure that was there and not there. 

Her nipples became harder  and her pussy wetter and wetter as another  presence, cheekier than the first two slid between her legs from behind. An electric buzzing non-corporeal pressure pressed against  her clit through the soaked,silk of her panties. 

Victoria cried out, her knees buckling slightly. She clung to the pole for support.

From the darkness Mistress watched on . Her stern lips softened into a smile of approval . 

The touch between her legs began to move, a slow, rhythmic pulse that brought her to the edge of climax .  She could feel herself growing wetter and wetter the silk clinging to the pert curves of her pussy lips 

The presence at her breast intensified, a mouth like sensation, a soft tongue tingling  her nipple through the silk, pleasurable waves emanated from her nipple straight to her core, her head fell back, a moan of pleasure escaping her lips. This was service. 

This was being of use. The psychology was simple, stripped bare: her validation, her very existence as Victoria, was measured in the reactions she could elicit, even, it seemed from the dead.

The presence  between her legs grew more insistent and seemed to coalesce into the shape of a handsome Victorian gentleman. Victoria pushed back against the pole legs trembling, as her pushed inside her.

It was a fullness sometimes with human  substance and sometimes, she couldn’t tell what it was the hot, penetrating sensation filled her. He began to move, in time with his thrusts a slow, deep, rhythm, and with each ethereal thrust, a corresponding wave of electric pleasure rolled through her. The sensations at her nipples sucked harder. 

She was a vessel, being filled by whispers and echoes of desires long since forgotten. 

Until now. 

Her own hips began to rock, meeting the thrusts, the sensations . The room swam. The blue light seemed to pulse in time with the rhythm inside her as the coil of pleasure in her belly tightened the rhythm building to a crescendo … , and then a new voice, rasped from the darkest booth.

“Enough of the tease, girl. Come here. I require… a closer inspection.”

The ghostly presences withdrew instantly, leaving her empty, aching, and shuddering on the stage.