“Laura’s no good,” he said. “It’s not a stripping name. You can be Kitten Tits.”
“What?” asked Laura.
“Don’t ‘what’ me,” the man replied, irritated. “You’re already late to work. Next time you start at 5 pm, okay? Your name here is Kitten Tits. That’s what you introduce yourself as, that’s what you answer to. You don’t use your real name because you don’t want the customers following you home, okay?”
“Okay,” said Laura. She remembered her rule about calling her breasts degrading names, and wondered if she was allowed to say, “Kitten Tits” or would have to say “Kitten Fuckhandles”. She decided that Kitten Tits was probably okay in the context of her name.
The man looked her over. “I’m Edgar, by the way,” he said. “You take instruction from me. You don’t answer to the other girls, you don’t answer to the customers, got it?”
“Got it,” said Laura.
“You’re dressed okay, so you’re obviously not completely stupid. Take off the shirt and I’ll put it in the lockers for you, and then you’re good to go.”
“Here?” asked Laura. Many of the nearby men were looking at her.
“The whole point is for them to see your udders, Kitten Tits,” said Edgar.
Nervously, Laura unbuttoned her shirt and removed it. Her large, painfully chained breasts came into view. She heard some scattered applause from the nearby tables, and blushed.
Edgar reached out and pulled at the chain connecting Laura’s nipples. Laura squealed.
“What’s this?” he said.
“It’s a decoration,” Laura replied. “I think it suits me, and I like it.”
Edgar laughed. “I think it suits you, too. Alright, you can chain up your tits like a goth if you want. Come on, I’ll show you how to take orders and do bills.”
The man led Laura around the strip club. Laura tried to concentrate on the things she was being told, and not the exposed female flesh around her. On stage, the brunette brought herself to a noisy orgasm, gathered up the money around her, and retreated through a door to what was presumably the backstage. Another girl, a redhead, came out wearing a bra and panties, and began to dance on the pole, slowly peeling off her underwear to reveal her breasts and twat.
Laura was introduced to the bartenders – tonight, a blonde named Kelly and a brunette named Tania, both of them with large fake breasts – and she was told how to greet the customers.
“You’re to say, ‘Hello, my name is Kitten Tits,'” Edgar told her. “And then you tell them something pornographic about yourself, like, ‘I like being fucked in the ass.’ Then you ask them if they like your tits. If they say yes, you say thank you, and if they say no, you tell them you’ll try hard to have worthwhile tits in the future. And then you lean right down so your tits are in their face, and you ask them what you can get them from the bar. They might grab your tits or your ass. They’re not supposed to, but if they do, don’t make a scene, just let the bouncers know afterwards.”
“And they’ll kick them out?” asked Laura.
“No, they’ll make them pay for the privilege. They learn pretty fast that it’s more expensive to grope waitresses than to just buy a lap dance or fuck a whore, and all but the richest ones stop.”
It was incredibly demeaning, but Laura memorized what she was supposed to say carefully, and thereafter she was set loose to start working.
At her very first table, she said, “Hi, my name is Kitten Tits. I like licking pussy. Do you like my fuckhandles?”
The men laughed, and said that they did. “Thank you,” said Laura. She leant over, letting her tits hang down, and almost sighed with relief – the position caused her breasts to not pull at the chain so painfully. She looked at the men. “What can I get for you from the bar?”
And so it went. She went from table to table, introducing herself as Kitten Tits and telling men about her sex habits. “I like fingering my vagina.” “I like squeezing my rapemelons.” “I like sucking on dildos.” She would ask them if they liked her sex-balloons, or her milkbags, and they would mostly tell her they did, and she would thank them. She got to enjoy leaning over to show off her tits because it was the only time they didn’t hurt from the chain. Sometimes men would reach out and squeeze her breasts when she did this. She tried to pretend it wasn’t happening, even the man who gripped both her fuckhandles and started trying to milk her like a cow. She just took their orders, and told the bouncer, and then watched as money would reluctantly change hands. Laura liked that her tits were so expensive to touch. It made her feel valuable.
The hardest part was the other women. Everywhere Laura looked, there were tits, and sometimes cunts. She would brush past the other waitresses, all of them beautiful, and it was erotic every time. She found herself staring vacantly at their tits sometimes when she wasn’t paying attention. And on the center stage was the worst of all. A nude girl rubbed her pussy up and down the stripper pole, leaving it glistening wet with cunt juices. A blonde fingered herself to orgasm while standing. Two buxom nude sluts did a dual act that ended in them 69ing each other in public, eagerly lapping each other’s cunts to orgasm with their tongues. And one dyed blonde naked whore invited a man up from the crowd, and then knelt in front of him and sucked his cock until he came in her mouth.
The last one was too much for Laura. She stared at it, rapt, picturing the cock in Erica’s mouth, or in her own mouth, and when the man came, and she saw the woman’s throat muscles working to swallow the semen, she had to excuse herself and run to the toilets. The stalls of the women’s toilets didn’t have doors, she noticed, but she didn’t care. She was desperate to masturbate. She sat on a toilet, pulled up her skirt… and stopped.
She wasn’t allowed to touch her panties. Not to take them off, not for any reason. She couldn’t masturbate. She looked down at them. They were wet, soaked through with her cunt juices. She squeezed her thighs together, feeling her cunt squelch between them, and it was good, but she knew it wasn’t enough to make her cum. She felt like crying.
“Need help, Kitten Tits?” said a voice. Laura looked up to see Kelly, the blonde bartender, standing in the door and looking at her. Like all the other girls at the Pretty Titty, Kelly’s breasts were bare. They were large and obviously surgically enhanced, with tiny brown areolae and erect nipples.
Laura whimpered. She was humiliated and ashamed, sitting here in the toilets thinking about touching herself. But she was so horny. She did need help. Was that what Kelly was offering her? Laura tried to think clearly but her pussy was throbbing and dripping. She struggled to her feet.
“Please,” she said. “Can you pull down my panties? I’m not allowed….”
Kelly laughed. “I figured you had a boyfriend or something playing sex games with you, from that chain on your boobs if nothing else. We often get new girls starting here on a dare from their guys. He must be really hot to convince you to make a slut of yourself like this.”
Laura said nothing, avoiding eye contact.
“It’s okay, baby,” said Kelly. “I’ll help you out. But you need to know they have cameras in here, and all through the backstage areas. They take money from clients to watch the feed in the private rooms. If you touch yourself in here, or anywhere else in the building, you’ll be giving the clients a show. Do you still want me to help?”
Laura didn’t want to show herself off – but was it any different from the cameras in her home? She had no idea how many anonymous men had already seen her naked, fucking her girlfriend and performing other intimate acts. Would a few more make a difference? And, after all, she was so horny…
“Yes,” said Laura. “Please.”
Kelly knelt in front of Laura, hooked her fingers into the waist of the panties, and pulled them down. Laura’s engorged, soaking wet pussy came into view.
“You’re pretty,” she said, and leaned forward and gave Laura a light kiss on the vulva.
Laura moaned. Oh god, she wanted this big-titted slut to kiss her there again – to lick and keep licking. She wanted to rape her like she did with Erica. The girl’s fake tits reminded her of Candy, and how Candy had made Laura fuck her. Laura hated Candy so much – she wanted to make Candy drink her piss, like Erica had done….
She wasn’t far gone, enough, though to force Kelly to lick her out, though. Kelly had been nice, and anyway Laura needed to keep working here. She just moaned a bit, and pushed her pussy forward a little, hoping Kelly would take the hint and go down on her.
“Oh, no way, honey,” said Kelly. “I’m supposed to be working. You are too, for that matter. Plus I don’t eat carpet unless there’s a guy involved too. Your fingers will have to do.”
Laura moaned in frustration as Kelly got up and left. But at least her panties were down. She sat back down on the toilet and began raping her snatch with her fingers, trying to cum as quickly as possible so she could get back to work. Her mind filled with the image of the slut on the stage swallowing the man’s cum, and she felt herself orgasming within minutes.
The orgasm left her helpless and shaking for nearly a minute. When she had recovered, she licked her fingers clean, did her best to dry her pussy with toilet paper, and then took the chance to empty her bladder as well.
Afterwards she realized she had no one to help her pull her panties back up. The only alternative was undesirable but inescapable – she let her panties fall the rest of the way down her legs, and then kicked them off, leaving them on the floor. It felt extra slutty to just leave her underwear lying there at the base of the toilet, but she wasn’t allowed to touch it, so she had no choice. At least her brain chemistry was returning to normal – no longer overpowered by her need to orgasm.
When she returned to the public areas, luckily Edgar didn’t seem to notice she had been missing, and Laura returned to her work. Her skirt was short, but not too short, and she thought that most of the time no one would have a chance of seeing that she was now without panties. The exception was when she bent over for the customers though. After she told them a fact about her sexual kinks (“I enjoy the taste of pussy”) and asked them if they liked her sex-balloons, there was no escaping the fact that bending forward to show them her fuckhandles gave anyone behind her a clear view up her skirt to her pouty, wet vagina. The first couple of times she did it, Laura reached back to reflexively tug her skirt down, which only drew attention to the situation. She heard wolf-whistles behind her, and blushed a furious red, knowing she’d just shown off her twat to strange men.
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