As I mention from time to time, my Mother was born in The Netherlands where her parents and her sister and her family still live. Over the years we have made an effort to get together every two years, alternating between us going there and them coming here. Now that we are older the participants have changed a bit. The original set of cousins now have jobs and families of their own. This sometimes makes it harder to get away but has also provided more money to fly people back and forth, since more of us work, and there are more people to fly back and forth, given the presence of spouses and a new generation.
There are a variety of cultural differences twixt their family and ours. We are all kind of jocks but I was always amazed at the intensity my female cousins show toward exercise. The Winter Olympics are just wrapping up as I write and the Dutch speed skaters displayed incredible dominance for such a small country. My female cousins don't skate but they do bicycle and their devotion to working out shows in their beautiful bodies, the pride they take in them, and their willingness to freely share them, at least visually.
On the subject of sharing bodies, I know my cousins find Americans rather prudish but I admit it seemed to us that they seemed to spend a lot of time walking around about half-naked, and maybe even more than half-naked. I was somewhat used to this from my mother who retained a lot of the habits she formed growing up. She would sunbathe topless in our yard and nude on her porch. If she needed to undress or change she would undress or change and the audience made little difference. If one of us encountered her when she was naked she would keep right on being naked until it was time to get unnaked, if that's a word.
Given all of this, I was not surprised when we arrived in Delft in the year I turned sixteen for our bi-annual get-together and found that my cousins Eefje and Dieuwke, girls my own age, had taken jobs in one of the kinky clubs in Amsterdam. Basically what they did was welcome people at the front entrance and participate in various entertainments such as wrestling, getting tied up, and being whipped. But mostly they handled the entrance and they invited me to come with them and apply for a similar job for the duration of my visit. The only qualifications needed were to be young and pretty, which I flatter myself I was, and to be willing to take your shirt off, which I also was. So the next afternoon we headed up the A4 to Amsterdam, about 60km away to visit the club.
The club was right off the A10 in the main part of town, a four-story building including dancing, a restaurant, assorted facilities for putting on shows and private, members only, areas where the really serious BDSM activities took place. The clientele included the general public as well as members of the private club. Customers were about two-thirds male with a fair percentage of gays. As this was summer, there were lots of tourists floating in.
Dieuwke showed me the outfit girls wore at the front door: black boots, black boy shorts, black wrist bands, and upper armbands, each equipped with a metal ring to facilitate tying you to stuff, and a black scrunchie for a ponytail so your hair stayed up to show maximum girl. There was no shirt. I met a few of the bouncers who manned the front door, large hairy guys who all spoke English and were very welcoming. Things seemed fine so we went to see the manager so I could be interviewed.
The interview went fine. As I say, there were few qualifications, some of which could not be evaluated while the applicant had her clothes on. I was reasonably personable, reasonably pretty, spoke good English, but nothing else, though that was not a barrier because they all spoke English. As I mentioned, one manned (or girled) the door sans a shirt so it made sense that as a part of the interview I would have to strip to the waist. As I expressed interest in some of the entertainments which were done in the nude, like wrestling, sometimes other girls and sometimes boys, getting hogtied by a professional rigger for the enjoyment of the general public and possibly being whipped, I was asked to strip buck naked.
So there I was, just sixteen, five thousand miles from home with three men at least twice my age whom I had met five minutes ago and I was taking off all my clothes. It was Kafkaesque, but we were, after all in Europe and Kafka was Russian. I think. I maintained a pleasant countenance and as much eye contact as I could to show I was perfectly comfy baring my ass, not to mention everything else, in front of three strange men. I removed my running shoes and socks and slipped off my jeans. I opened my shirt and removed that too. I reached in back and unhooked my bra, pulled it off my shoulders, and bared my breasts, snow-white against my summer tan. The manager smiled approvingly. I'm a big B cup, small C, and my nipples were hard as rocks. Boys usually like my boobs.
Without hesitation, I hooked my thumbs in the band of my panties and pulled them down and I was naked. My bum is small and soft and snow-white like my tits, my hair shaved clean and my pussy lips pink against the white skin surrounding them. I held my head up to belie my nervousness and the heat building in my boobs and my lower tummy just above my bunny hole.
Usually, I love stripping for guys, of course usually they are my own age. When you're finally nude every part of you is offered to them, boobs, pussy, ass, everything. They take with them a little part of you you can never have back. A little bit of your innocence. They forever have an intimate connection with you because they've seen you naked. You can never totally erase the connection you have with him. That he's seen you naked and you've let him into your own private world. I kind of threw my hair back and stuck my tits out and ground my hips a little. I squeezed my thighs together and felt the warm wetness of my cunt and the tightness in my abdomen that, under other circumstances, would lead to my getting off.
The manager stood up and walked around his desk in front of me and looked closely at my body, then slowly circled in back of me and stood there, presumably evaluating my bare ass. I figured this was a part of the interview. He wanted to know if having men stare at my naked body would make me shy. It didn't. Well, maybe a little it did. He reached out and put his fingers lightly on my lower back, then lowered his hand and kind of caressed my bare ass. I stood stock-still. Then he moved his hand up to his mouth and wet his middle finger and returned his hand to my bum. Then slowly he searched the crack of my ass with his lubricated finger, found my asshole and slipped it gently inside me. I tensed a bit but held my ground as best I could. Satisfied he went back and sat down. If it was a test, I passed. I think.
He summoned the rigger. He was pleasant and friendly and wanted to see how I'd react to being tied up. I told him I had some experience being tied but nothing professional. He wanted to do a few simple ties on me with some pieces of hemp he had brought with him. I don't really care for hemp, finding it too scratchy but I had no choice. He had me put my arms behind me crossing my wrists together and taking a three-meter rope doubled over tied my wrists together. Tight. It hurt and as he continued I gathered it was supposed to. Tight or not I could feel my engine rev because now I was sort of helpless to resist with my hands tied.
Next, he did a fairly simple rope bra during which I thought he was deliberately taking advantage of me right there in front of the others. I know the rope bra requires more hand contact with your boobs than a few other chest wraps and I think that's why he chose it but even so he took every opportunity to cop a little feel. Anyway, he put a loop of rope around my body just under my boobs and ran the free end through the bite in the middle of my back. Then he came right around and did a loop up over my boobs pulling it real tight. Doing it that way squishes your boobs together. If you start in back pulling the rope up maybe fifteen cm. then around in front and pull the free end around back and connect with the part that's up that fifteen cm it's a little looser on the boobs but that's not what he wanted. Anyway, my boobs were squished. At least so far he hadn't been able to feel me up.