Tickle Tutor: Collateral #1 'Underbelly'

[TickleMantis]

Tickle Tutor: Collateral



A Short Story Collection From The World of Tickle Tutor



By TickleMantis



M/f

‘Underbelly’





​

If anyone ever wondered why Skip Okrutny had gone grey by the age of forty-two, the sinewy strip club manager simply pointed to his dancers. Plenty of people imagined spending most of one’s adult life around naked young women to be a dream come true. On the surface Skip had no doubt it looked that way, though if any of them spent more than a day or two actually living it they’d soon go grey too. There were the owners, the customers, the bar staff, the bouncers and, of course, the multitude of daily issues that came with each girl.



He’d spend six days a week at Glitter Grabbers if he was lucky. Usually it was seven, and the young ladies who he employed still asked why their silver-haired manager often looked so disheveled. Torn jeans and a black t-shirt, the girls would giggle and tell him he ought to wear a suit like most club managers. Most club managers weren’t mocked as a point of routine, but Skip was never willing to do the kinds of things his counterparts often did to keep their dancers in line. Still, the constant badgering would wear anyone down eventually. He worked hard, a modicum of respect hardly seemed so much to ask.



Eleven years of being walked over, of girls skimming, earning from undeclared outcalls and making any number of outlandish demands. The customers were mostly drunks or loud mouthed frat boys. Bouncers and bartenders would quit because they could make twice as much working over at Long Neck, which was fine for them if they didn’t mind dealing with bikers. At least the owners of Glitter Grabbers were all talk when they had a problem, a pair of Greek brothers who seldom came to town. They phoned a lot though, and Skip once worked out that he spent an average of six hours a week talking or being talked at by one brother or the other. Sometimes both at once.



Adding it all up; the phone calls, the turnover, getting spit on by clientele, the individual dramas of each dancer, the whole picture took it’s toll. It’d been five long years since Skip’s last vacation. Other than the club, he went home to a crappy apartment or to the grocery store. Having real friends was a fantasy. A girlfriend, forget about it. There was no escape, no release, even Christmas Day was spent mopping after the night before. The things he had to do on New Years Day were best left unmentioned. Every day was one list of nagging problems after another, and so it had been for years. That was until Wendy Starr.



Wendy was nothing special at first. A young woman down on her luck, looking to get out of the trailer park, Skip had seen her like dozens of times. She didn’t give as much sass as most girls and as far as the accounts went it never looked like she stole, but the busty blonde did like to show up late fairly often. He’d talked to her, gave her warnings, told Wendy she needed to get to work on time even if the floor was usually devoid of clients at the beginning of her shift. And, wouldn’t you know it, even a sweet natured girl like her ignored him.



Come one Friday, a group of young women from out of town came into the club. A far cry from the grizzled, boozy bunch of men that were usually scattered about, the gaggle of attractive twenty-somethings began throwing money around like they had a limitless supply. Top shelf drinks, VIP booth, private dances, the works. Few things made Skip happy, least of all his thankless life of servitude, but bending over backwards for those particular customers did bring a rare genuine smile to his well-lined face. After their visit many of the dancers still found reason to complain. They’d made great tips, that was true, but what they’d had to do for the money almost hadn’t been worth it, at least according to the girls. Skip felt different.



It was Wendy who’d kicked up the biggest fuss. Hired for an outcall, the newest of Glitter Grabber’s dancers had left with that strange group of affluent guests in their limo. From there she’d ended up in the damn newspaper, and worst of all returned from the whole ordeal without so much as a single dollar to show for it. Ran away from a hefty payday, complained and whined and made excuses, stood right there in Skip’s office trying to justify why they were all out of pocket. All for about the stupidest reason the weary man had ever heard; the clients had tried to tickle her.



Suffice to say, the reasoning was less than impressive. To Skip’s mind if the people with the money wanted a dance, you danced. If they wanted their clits licked then you got down on your knees, and if they wanted to tickle you the you damn well better get to laughing or do a good job at faking it. He’d told Wendy this more or less, the day before she’d gone missing. Maybe he’d reached a breaking point that day, maybe he just wanted to do something for himself for once, but when the flustered girl continued to roll out excuses the exhausted man finally took action. Right there in his office, he started tickling Wendy Starr.



For several thrilling minutes the bosomy girl had squealed and struggled between Skip’s hands. The feeling of her muscles flexing against his fingers, her voice cracking as she begged for it to stop, the sweet song of her erratic laughter, he’d never felt more alive. After so many years around nude girls, seeing the things he’d seen, getting excited in any significant way felt like a distant memory. The erection Skip got that afternoon was something else, a great and glorious throbbing bulge at the front of his pants, the kind of door-knocking hard-on he no longer thought himself capable of.



Two weeks later, the wiry manager had thought of Wendy often. She’d left town or something the following day, and though it seemed ludicrous, Skip did wonder if she’d disappeared because he’d tickled her. He couldn’t quite understand why some girls despised being tickled so much, why they laughed and demanded for it to stop at the same time. It didn’t hurt them, yet there was no doubting it had a powerful effect, even if he didn’t fully appreciate why. It was that easily acquired power Skip was thinking about when he wandered into the dressing room one Wednesday afternoon.



“Finally!” Snapped the new girl the moment he walked through the door. “Take fucking forever, why don’t you?”



Ruby, that was what she called herself on stage, Skip had already forgotten what her real name was. Nineteen years old and full of piss and vinegar, she sat in nothing but red g-string panties and a pair of black high-heeled boots that ran almost up to her knees. A skinny little brunette with ample breasts, she wore her hair back in a tight ponytail as she leaned forward from her stool and fidgeted with one boot. Dallas and Turquoise were there too, one rolling her eyes and the other barely registering that their boss had just entered the room.



A simple ‘hello’, maybe the barest effort of a smile, the most miniscule acknowledgement wouldn’t have killed them. Skip sighed as he looked over the countertop before the well-lit vanity mirror, a mess of hair products, strewn about wigs, makeup and only god knew what else. The lockers and clothing racks were a disaster too, props haphazardly left on the floor and at least half the outfits thrown over the top bars instead of hung back on coat hangers. Wandering down the line of stools, the disgruntled man understood that the girls were not in the most grand of vocations, yet it miffed him nonetheless that not a one took pride in their workplace.



“This what you’re after?” Skip stopped just behind Ruby and held up a small metal clip.



“You know I’m on in ten minutes?” The flippant teen turned back and snatched the clip away.



“Plenty of time to pick different shoes.”



Ruby scoffed sharply. “Are you blind? The foot guy’s out there.”



“I saw.”



“Then maybe I don’t want to wear something he can take off me?” Leaning back down to her heavy leather boot, the snake-tongued girl began repairing the one broken strap. “Fucking creepy ass, he’s always pulling our shoes off.”



“Yeah.” Skip grumbled. “Pays good money for it too.”



Halfway through her DIY fix-it job, the surly teen looked up to stare daggers at her boss. “Then you go shove your feet in his face, okay? I’m not doing it.”



As she turned back to keep fiddling with her boots, Skip felt his jaw tighten. Turquoise was shaking her head gently over to his right. To the left, Dallas had her lips pursed as she held back a smile. He looked back to Ruby, bare back curved forward as she leaned over, arms down passed her knees. Whatever Wendy Starr’s reasons for leaving, the grey-haired manager thought, he’d taught her lesson that day. Then, acting more on impulse than any kind of plan, Skip jabbed his index fingers directly into the sassy brunette’s exposed sides.



“Aiiee!” The haughty girl sprang upright and slapped at the tall man’s hands. “What the fuck?!”



“How about a ‘thank you’?” He said sternly. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to find that specific piece of metal in this part of town?”



“How about fuck you!” Ruby rubbed her sides, looking back over one shoulder with a meaner scowl than ever before.



“Fuck me?” Darting both hands forward, the frustrated fellow dug all ten fingertips into the nubile girl’s ribcage, and clawed wildly. “Fuck you!”



“Eeiiiee!” Clamping both arms against herself, the squealing teen trapped her boss’ hands between her elbows and sides. “Ahahaha! Get off! Eeieha! Stop it! Haahaha! Letmegoho!”



Doubling over toward the cluttered countertop, Ruby’s face twisted between fury and a broad grin she couldn’t suppress. As her hands flailed and her naked bosoms bounced, the spasming girl kicked those heavy boots madly against the carpet. Though she barked demands for a ceasefire, her normally venomous tone now came out as a series of girlish squeaks. Every effort to hold on to her contempt was quickly circling the drain, the laughter she couldn’t control overwhelming any sense of superiority more with every poke.



Drilling his digits deep into the tender spots between each heaving rib, Skip felt the same rush he’d enjoyed two weeks before. In an instant, with a mere squeeze of his hands, the downtrodden man held all the power. A excitable pulse pounded through his loins and he pinched the struggling girl’s tiny body a little harder. She gasped loudly and knocked a can of hairspray from the counter, reaching out for something to hit him with maybe, or just clumsily panicking. Whatever Ruby was trying to do, extending her arm opened up the smooth hollow underneath and Skip immediately raced his fingers up into her underarm.



“EEEIIHA!” Shrieking and snapping her arm back down, the fitful girl rolled hard to her left.



“Where you going, huh?” Following the flustered young woman as she began sliding off her stool, the older man kept two fingers wiggling under her arm while the other hand kept goosing her ribs.



“STOP!” Ruby’s voice cracked right when she collapsed down between her stool and one next to it.



“You want me to stop?” The sinewy man said as he grabbed a hold of her petit wrists and tugged her out toward the open floor.



“Arrgh!” Dragged across the carpet on her mostly bare ass cheeks, the infuriated girl shook, kicked and yanked at her arms. “What are you doing?! Dickhead! Let me go!”



“Oh, so you want me to keep going!” Quite engorged between his legs, Skip leaned over the topless teen and dived both hands kneading into her well-toned tummy.



“Nooohohiieeee!” Rolling violently, the powerless girl threw both her arms down and clutched fruitlessly at her manager’s eagerly pawing hands. “Dallas! Eehahaha! H-help meeeheahaha!”



“They’re not going to help you, are you ladies?”



Neither of the other two women in the room looked terribly keen to get in the middle of it. Dallas, the cheerleader turned stripper who sat in little more than a cowboy hat, had her mouth agape as she viewed Ruby’s indignity through the mirror. Turquoise, the curvy black girl, watched the bizarre events unfold directly, mouth slightly open and her eyebrows raised about as high as she could get them. Skip made a point of making eye contact with both of them and as he did the pair of voyeuristic dancers sheepishly lowered their gaze. He wasn’t just taking out his frustration anymore, a message was being sent and the results were apparently pretty impactful.



“Now you listen to me and you listen good-“ Skip moved himself around, swung one leg over the now blushing teen and dropped down to straddle her hips. “All I wanted was a simple ‘Thanks Skip!’ and you couldn’t even do that. From now on you show me the respect I’m owed or-“

“F-fuck you!” The wincing girl pushed against the carpet as she tried to wriggle out from between the tall man’s knees. “I quit!”



“You quit?” Furrowing his brow, the irritated manager pinched viciously up and down the half naked teen’s sides. “You don’t quit, you do as you’re damn well told!”



Closing her eyes tight, the squealing girl curled upward and bucked beneath her boss. Her boss, that was right, that was the natural order of things, not the other way around. She would listen to him, Skip thought as his erection swelled almost painfully against his boxers, the feeling of her tiny hands trying to pry him off her causing a significant throb. As Ruby fought back against the laughter and kicked awkwardly, the newly dominant man soaked up all the uncontrolled vibrations through his fingertips. Soft, hypersensitive flesh against in the palm of his hands, her slender hips gyrating erratically between his legs, he held his knees like a vice around her and dug his thumbs deep into her abdomen.



“STOP IT! Ahahaha! Off meeeiehehe!” A few strands of hair slipped free of the thrashing teen’s ponytail as she batted helplessly at the much larger man’s shoulders.



“You quit? Is that what you said?” Skip scampered his hands quickly up the scantily clad girl’s convulsing tummy before digging the tips of his index and middle fingers into the squishy sides of her bare breasts.



“Nyaahaha! No! Okayeeeihaha! Okaaayiieahaha!” Wrapping both arms tight around her generous chest, the normally snippy girl hugged herself desperately.



“Okay? Okay what?”



“Idon’tquit! Eeeiehahstop!”



“You don’t? You sure?”



“I’msurahaha!” Ruby strained to get the words out, her cheeks flushing redder by the second as she tried to nod. “I’msure! Pleasehahaha!”



“Finally, some manners!” Burrowing his fingers higher, the victorious man stroked the silky skin of the breathless teen’s underarms again. “You going to keep working for me?”



“Aaiiahahaha! Yesahaha! Yes I swearahaha!”



“Maybe I oughta keep tickling you, make sure you’re telling the truth?”



“Iam! Aheehahaha!” Ruby shrieked, her chin tucked against her chest and a few rouge strands of hair whipping about her miserably mirthful face. “Iprom-ahaha! Iprom-eeiehahehe!”



“You prom? What is that? Prom what?”



“I PROMISE!”



“Well alright then.” Skip slid his hands free and, without making any effort to hide the huge bulge at the front of his jeans, stood back to his feet. “I’m gonna hold you to that, girl. Any more trouble from you and we’ll be having a repeat of this, understand?”



Panting heavily, the disheveled teen no longer had a look of utter disdain in her eyes. “Yes…yes…” She wheezed, arms still wrapped around herself.



“Good, now fix yourself up. You’re on in two minutes.” Brimming with newfound confidence, the somewhat swaggering manager didn’t bother looking back as he exited the room. “And take those stupid boots off.”



Like even the thinnest shred of gossip, word about Ruby’s dressing room debacle spread quickly among the girls. Not a whole lot changed at first, most of the dancers writing it off as a peculiar incident and nothing more. Dallas and Turquoise both had notable changes in their attitudes however, smiling, saying hello and generally being quite pleasant whenever Skip was in the room. Ruby especially performed a complete one-eighty, going so far as to call him ‘sir’ and slip a little extra cash his way over the next few days. By Saturday those random bonuses dried up a little, but a brief one-on-one meeting in the manager’s office quickly had the teen’s charitable side shining brightly once again.



Sunday was Skip’s day off, though he still ended up having to swing by and fix a leaky pipe in the early afternoon. The glorious life of a strip club manager indeed. Back in the thick of it less than twenty-four hours later, Monday dragged by more or less the same as any other. Behind the scenes the club was still a disorganized mess and all but Ruby had returned to treating their manager like he was more an inconvenience in their lives than their exhausted boss. By closing time, with the last customers staggering out and most of the staff gone home, Skip did his final walk around before he too could finally leave.



“God damn it…” He cursed under his breath, one hand holding open the curtain to a private room.



Around the shiny pole, scattered about the velvet-red carpet was a discarded corset, the strings loose and splayed haphazardly about. Looking closer as he stepped between the leather seats either side of the door revealed the rest of a dancer’s outfit. High heels, a colourful tutu, fishnet stockings, whoever had used the room even left their g-string behind.

Seeing himself in the ceiling high mirror opposite, Skip sighed at the sorrowful state of himself. No, the frowning man whipped back toward the curtain, picking up after the girls was where he drew the line.



“Scarlet!” The less-than-amused manager spied his fiery-haired veteran dancer halfway down the hall.



“See you tomorrow.” Without looking back the casually dressed girl threw up a peace-sign and continued her merry way toward the door.



“Did Tanisha leave yet?”



“Who?”



“Turquoise, for Christ’s sake…”



“Oh. Why didn’t you just say that?”



Skip clenched his teeth. “Is she still here or not?”

“I just saw her gabbing with Dallas in the dressing room, I’m sure she’ll be by in a minute.”



“Good, thank you.”



“Uh…huh.” Scarlet made sure to shoot a quick side-eyed glance before continuing out the door.



Sure enough, barely more than a minute later, Dallas and Tanisha came wandering through, both clucking like old hens. Apparently engrossed by their conversation about some stupid TV show, neither the statuesque blonde or her curvaceous dark haired friend deigned to acknowledge Skip’s existence as they walked by. Stood leaning against the entry way to the abandoned private room, the irritable man watched as the two girls continued on without a care, for him or the mess they were leaving behind.



“Tanisha.” The scowling man said sharply, catching the attention of both dancers. “Stick around for a minute, we need to talk.”



“What about me?” Dallas raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow.



“You can go.” Skip waved a dismissive hand at the taller of the two women.



“See ya…”



“Yeah.” Tanisha nodded before giving the plainly irritated man her full attention. “What’s up?”



“Come here, would you?” Pushing back the curtain, he gestured into the six-seat room.



Wide hips swinging as she walked, the slightly chubby twenty-three year old took on an openly impatient look. Dressed for the bus ride home, the girl who called herself Turquoise on stage must have had difficulty finding comfortable clothes for her almost cartoonishly-shaped figure. Perhaps, Skip pondered whimsically as she came closer, that was why Tanisha chose a job where she often got to wear nothing. Tight denim jeans practically painted around her thick thighs, the shortest of Glitter Grabber’s dancer’s full height came in at just shy of five feet tall. A low-cut black top hid at least the lower half of her huge money making bosoms, ballooning cleavage wobbling with every step.



“Okay…” Tanisha said dryly while surveying the small room beyond the curtain. Skip couldn’t help but steal a glance at her very pronounced ass as the buxom girl passed through the entrance. A pair of great round buns that jutted sharply out from the small of her back, a feature that kept more than a few customers coming back to see the notably voluptuous young woman.



“See the problem?”



“I’m gonna miss my bus?” She shrugged.



“The mess, Tanisha.” Skip let the curtain drop behind him as he cast an open hand at the strewn costume pieces. “This was you, wasn’t it?”



“Okay, so?” The busty girl turned toward him. “Big deal, I’ll clean it tomorrow.”



“You’re not scheduled for tomorrow.”



“Fine, I’ll do it now, Jes-“



“You’re missing the point.” Cutting her off midsentence, the much taller fellow took a step closer to his comely dancer. “Probably on purpose.”



“What are you even-“



“You girls.” Skip stalked slowly toward Tanisha, her big brown eyes looking him up and down from under her furrowed brow. “None of you have any respect for this place. You all treat it like it’s your personal playground and some butler’s going to come clean up after you everyday.”

“Okay, so why are you giving just me hell for it?” The buxom girl took a step back and pressed up against the dance-pole. “I ain’t the only one who leaves their shit laying around.”



“I…am no…butler.”



With little more than a foot left between them, Skip loomed over the puzzled dancer. He rather liked the way she looked, annoyed yet mostly confused, full lips slightly parted like they were waiting for something sassy to come out. Nothing clever came, and as the wiry older man savored the mild victory he felt a familiar throb beneath his beltline. A throb of power, of knowing he had all the power and this was the path to more.



“You remember what happened when Ruby talked back to me last week…” Eyes narrowing, the silver-haired man’s voice took on a lower tone. “Don’t you?”



“I…” A worrisome expression crossed her pretty face, and the petit girl looked to the openings either side of her boss as she began to shift away from the reflective chrome pole. “I have…to get my bus.”



“Uh-uh.” Skip moved slightly to his left, blocking the clearly anxious dancer’s intended path. Raising both hands, he wiggled all ten fingers in the air between them. “You’re not going anywhere.”



Her big eyes widening, Tanisha took a stumbling step backward, bumped the stripper pole and side-stepped around it. “Nuh uh, no way.” She waved both hands quickly and continued back toward the wall mirror. “You do that shit with the new girl, that ain’t for me.”



“Oh no?” Working his way around the pole, the advancing man kept his digits dancing. “Suddenly you’re special, are you? Special little Turquoise…”



“Uh-uh cut it out-“ The bosomy girl’s brilliantly rounded ass bumped softly into the mirror. “You better be joking, Skip, I swear.” Examining her options for escape, the shapely dancer’s eyes moved hurriedly to the seats, to the distant door, and back to the threatening fingertips that were now an arm’s length away. “Th-this ain’t funny…nnee…st-stopeehe.”



Though he hadn’t made contact, Tanisha’s plump lips fought back a smile. Open palms held in front of her hefty chest, the curvaceous girl pushed back against the mirror as small giggles bubbled out of her. Apparently doing her best to sound serious, the increasingly girlish squeaks completely undermined any of the normally willful young woman’s conviction. Coming within inches of her pillowy tummy, Skip hunched forward and grinned, the cowering girl risking a couple of tiny slaps against the tops of his hands.



“Stop it!” Tanisha’s voice had a distinctive warble to it as her boss’ hands spread slowly apart from one another. “St-oh! Nono! Skip! Seriously! Eheehee!”



“I haven’t even touched you yet!” The unusually cheerful manager teased and shot one hand forward, stopping just shy of pinching the girl’s belly.



“Eiieehaha!” Springing upright, the buxom dancer squealed. “Oh my god!”



“What’s the matter, Tanisha?”



“I get it! I get it!” Her voice high, the fitful girl flapped both hands frantically as she looked back and forth to the wiggling fingers at her sides. “Eeiehe! I-I’ll clean up! I swear, I swear!”



“Oh now you’ll clean up, huh?”



“Yes! Eheheohno!” Trembling, her squishy cleavage wobbling, the obviously highly sensitive girl twitched and jerked in the small space between her manager’s taunting digits. “I’ll do it! Ehehe! J-just don’t fuckin’ tickle me!”



Something about the word tickle sent a surge through Skip’s loins, his already swollen cock pulsing eagerly. In that moment it was the one thing in all the world the bosomy young woman didn’t want to happen, and the one thing her leering boss desired more than anything. Intoxicated by Tanisha’s helplessness, the way she struggled not to laugh, the way her whole curvy body writhed in fear, the increasingly sinister older man delved both hands into her cushiony sides.



“Eeeeieeeheehee!” Rocking violently, the tiny girl threw herself forward.



Caught between her boss’ hands, the explosively laughing girl’s long hair flew madly as she fought for freedom. Like touching an exposed nerve of pure ticklishness, Skip struggled to hold on as the much smaller woman stomped wildly, waving her arms in panicked fashion. Eyes clenched shut and a broad, open mouth grin across her face, Tanisha’s stream of loud giggling made for an erratic chorus of high pitched squeals and abrupt, uncontrolled yelps. Feeling her body jerk and react to his every poke made those most welcome throbs beneath Skip’s boxers increase tenfold, her muscles twitching spasmodically against his fingertips.



“Clean it up then, I’m waiting!” Renewed with an energy he hadn’t felt in years, the uncharacteristically excited manager teased. Darting his clawing hands all over her tender midriff, it was hardly any trouble at all to keep the petit girl in a state of chaos.



“I cahahaeeeiiihaha!” Nose wrinkling as she twisted and turned, every attempt Tanisha made to speak devolved into gasping half-words and unbridled laughter. “Stahaha! Ohmygohahaha! Eeiieehehehe!”



“What’s that? I can’t understand a word you’re saying!”



Unable to climb the wall or pass through solid matter, the increasingly desperate sounding girl had nowhere to run. Moving toward her boss only meant more tickling, he made sure of that, and trying to lunge left or right resulted in the same. At her back was the mirror, a solid wall behind it, leaving no good options at all. Whether it was due to picking the best on a list of bad choices or her buxom body simply giving up, Tanisha began sliding down the glass. Followed by her boss’ wiggling fingers, the slowly descending girl collapsed to the floor in a defenseless, giggling heap.



Tipping over to her right, the shapely dancer now had even less routes to freedom than she’d had a moment before. Both hands on her sides and tummy every step of the way, Skip lowered himself to one knee, leaning over the breathless girl as her lace-up running shoes kicked mindlessly about. Though Tanisha slapped and clutched at the larger man’s hands, her efforts were all but wasted even when his wiggling digits ran higher and squeezed cruelly at her heaving ribs. A loud shriek sent a sharp spasm through the busty girl’s frame, her wild giggles spiking into bellowing laughter.



“Aaaahahaha! Staha! Stahaahahaha!” Glaring briefly at her boss with a severely alarmed look in her eyes, the no-longer-so-flippant dancer’s cheeks blushed red.



Fingers drilling into her ribs, there was no way for Skip to avoid brushing against the bosomy girl’s huge bouncing breasts. Taking no action to do otherwise, the kneeling man gladly let the disobedient girl’s hefty boobs squish against his hands, even hooking both index fingers up to poke at the undersides of her straining bra. So out of control was the feebly struggling young woman that the long-suffering club manager could have kept her trapped there between himself and the mirror indefinitely. Her cheeks growing redder by the moment, Skip relished the panic across Tanisha’s dismally grinning face, soaked up her wheezing pleas and reveled in the feeling of her supple ribs molding between his roughly squeezing hands.



It wasn’t enough. Every passing second had swelled the older man’s cock to a pulsing, almost painful erection that pressed uncomfortably inside his jeans. Fuelled entirely by his own wanton appetite and newfound sense of superiority, Skip quickly began pulling the squealing girl’s shirt upward. In a clumsy, discombobulated display the fitful dancer fought to keep her jostling tummy from becoming exposed, still laughing uncontrollably through the ordeal. He’d seen Tanisha stark naked countless times, however when the smooth dark skin of her sensitive belly caught the ornery fellow’s eye it was as if he was seeing it again for the very first time.



“That’s it, dance!” Skip’s clawing digits burrowed into the maddened girl’s marshmallowy soft tummy, the tips of his thumbs boring either side of her abdomen.



“Naaaaiiieeehahaha!” The distraught young woman wailed, bringing her knees up, doing her useless best to curl into a quivering, hopelessly ticklish ball.



“Best dance you’ve ever done, Tanisha!”



“Staaahaahap! Aaahahaha!” Straining forcefully, the voluptuous victim’s forehead had now taken on a reddish hue, her rosy red face contorting through a mix of anguish, shock and insuppressible hilarity.



“What’re you fighting me for, huh?”



“Eiiiyeehahaha! Pleeheeheahaha!”



“This is what you do!”



“Aahaha! Ahaohgawahahad!”



“Dance! Strip!” Skip slid his thumbs lower and probed deep into the horridly sensitive spots just above the comely girl’s bucking hips.



Tanisha’s hands scrambled to pry her boss’ fingers off of her, pawing fruitlessly at his pitiless fingers as she howled. With the tips of his thumbs locked in place, the lustful man’s eight remaining fingers could reach around just enough to poke at the outer most edges of his plaything’s denim-clad butt cheeks. Even through her jeans the effect of Skip’s wiggling digits jabbing at her backside appeared to have a striking effect, the busty girl spasming harder than at any point prior. It must have been a kind of ticklish agony for her, the silver-haired man thought, and the idea inspired a sudden slew of wickedly sadistic fantasies.



“Not going to leave your stuff laying around anymore, are you?” The tall man shot both hands to the wheezing woman’s belt buckle.



“Ahahaha! AhahahaNO!” Unable to keep from laughing, the red-faced dancer fumbled at her manager’s ceaseless fingers, shaking her head as he loosed the belt open. “NO! Please! PLEAHEESE!”



As the heels of her shoes slammed repeatedly into the mirror, Skip plucked at the button of the squawking girl’s jeans. Though she tried her darndest to stop him, no amount of pulling or uncoordinated clutching against the smirking man’s fingers could prevent the frenzied dancer from being disrobed. Determined to see Tanisha driven as mad as possible, the merciless man swiftly popped the button open and immediately grabbed for the tiny bronze zipper. Quite determined herself to remain clothed, the loudly squealing girl scratched hurriedly at her fly, knocking her boss’ fingers away over and over again.



“It’s your job to strip!” Skip took a firm hold of his cackling tickle-toy’s right wrist and pinned her hand tight against the floor. Batting her other hand away, the fervently fondling fellow took the zip between his thumb and index fingers, pulling it down swiftly.



“NOAHA!” Pawing at her opened jeans, the front of the kicking dancer’s light blue panties left little to the imagination as the skin-tight cotton showed off every groove and curve of her puffy pussy.



Releasing Tanisha’s pinned wrist, the sinewy man darted his hands directly under the splayed sides of her pants. Forcing his way between the tight denim and the buxom girl’s upper legs, Skip pinched vigorously into the crease where her thick thighs met her lower-most tummy. A shrill cry pierced the air and with a burst of energy neither of them knew she had, the frantic dancer launched herself off the mirror and rolled face down halfway between the wall and stripper’s pole. Thrilled by her abrupt escape from his grip, the wiry older man leapt excitedly after the frazzled girl and pounced onto the back of her flailing legs.



“NONO!” Tanisha took hold of the pole with both hands and pulled herself forward. “HELP! HEEEEELP!”



“Everyone’s gone!” Hooking his fingers under the waistline of the fleeing dancer’s jeans, the relentless manager tugged hard, pulling the pants downward over her huge ass. “It’s just me and you!”



“SKIP!” The hyperticklish girl shrieked, reaching back as her well-rounded butt cheeks bounced into the open. Only a thin g-string served as any kind of cover, the two great mounds of tantalizing flesh fully defenseless before her handsy boss.



Quickly planting his weight at the bottom of his dancer’s squished together thighs, Skip straddled the bare-assed girl’s legs and squeezed tight. With the tops of her jeans bunched just under her nearly naked butt, both fleshy cheeks protruded up between his knees, her lower legs kicking frantically up and down behind him. Though she twisted around and slapped the air above her vulnerable behind, there was no more protecting herself now than any other time over the last few hectic minutes. Clenching his teeth, the overly eager man whipped his open palm down sharply against the outer side of Tanisha’s right ass cheek, causing her to yelp loudly. Distracted by the unexpected spanking, both the stunned girl’s hands immediately covered the stinging spot, allowing her cruel manager to freely run all ten fingers over her practically naked buttocks.



“YEEEIIHEEHAHA!” Arching her back ferociously, the hysterical girl thrashed, her hands waving desperately across her preposterously ticklish rear end.



“Oh! I found the money maker!” Skip chuckled, unimpeded by the weak slaps that did nothing to slow his dancing digits.



Erect to the point he thought his own jeans might burst open, the gleefully kneeling man scribbled his speedy fingertips along the ballooning bottoms of Tanisha’s ass cheeks, raced over the wobbling peaks and slid fiendishly down through the crevice between them both. Wordless, unhinged laughter filled the small room, the crazed sounds reaching such pitch that Skip genuinely feared the mirror might crack. Switching from light strokes to boisterous pinching, the bewildered girl howled with inhuman cries, the kind of screaming laughter that couldn’t have come from anyone of right mind.



Somewhere back in the recesses of his mind, the lust-driven manager knew mixing business and pleasure was seldom ever a good idea. It was a small, easily drowned out thought, almost entirely overwhelmed by Skip’s infinitely more primal urges. Maybe there was some dubious justification for punishing the girls this way, or maybe he was just an evil bastard after all, either way nothing was stopping him now. One hand running amok over Tanisha’s furiously bucking ass, the feverishly aroused man hurriedly unbuckled his own belt, popped free the button of his jeans and unzipped his fly. In an awkward, shuffling, one-handed maneuver, Skip tugged his pants and boxers downward, his thick pulsating shaft and glistening wet cockhead springing into open air.



Sighing with the relief of having his huge throbbing erection finally unleashed, the rambunctiously randy manager clawed wildly at the most fleshy parts of Tanisha’s bulbous butt. Falling into silent, raspy laughter at random intervals, the disheveled girl’s hair had turned to a nest of messy strands, some matting to the sweat that now glistened over her bright red face. Dismissing any daydreams that he could torment her all night long, Skip’s ever-lessening willpower only allowed him to keep his fingers frolicking over the buxom girl’s behind for another few minutes. Giving in to his most base desires, the engorged man grabbed the thin waistline at the back of the howling dancer’s panties and tugged downward with brutish force.



“N-nuh…nuh….no!” Tanisha wheezed when her boss tucked her panties down around the tops of her thighs, leaving her large butt completely nude.



“You want me to keep tickling you, hmm?” Taking hold of the heavily panting girl’s wrists, the tall man forced her hands upward and pinned them either side of her head. As she squirmed beneath him, the atrociously erect man leaned forward, pressing his throbbing shaft down between her bare cheeks. With his cock nestled in place, he pushed his chest down against her back and put his lips to her ear. “Is that what you want?”

“Eeiehe! No!” Twisting her head about as she tried to hide her ear, the pinned girl’s struggling inadvertently massaged her boss’ swollen shaft. “I-I’ll suck your dick!” She squeaked breathlessly. “I’ll suck it so good!”



“That right?” Skip groaned and slid his hands down the pleading young woman’s arms.



“Y-yeah! Please!” The stammering girl shot her elbows in tight against herself. “Anything you want! J-just no more damn tickling!”



“You suck client dick all the time.”



“No! Nggh! No I don’t!” Tanisha winced, trying to push the much larger man upward, all her wriggling doing little more than rub her sinfully soft ass around his rock hard cock.



“Don’t lie to me!”



“Eeiiiehaha!” Five fingers goosed at the trapped dancer’s love handles. “I’m not!” She squawked and clamped her hands over her sides.



“Confess!” Skip felt an electric rush from the impromptu interrogation as he scooted his hands higher and thrust his hips.



“Okayeehee! Okayfuckahaha!”



“You fuck them too?”



“Noahaha! Nononeeheeheeiie!”



“Is that what you were doing in here? Those frat boys take turns?”



“Noeehehee!” Pawing helplessly in pursuit of her manager’s hands, the bosomy girl’s arms shot up and down in a frantic chase across her sensitive skin. “Eeeehahaha! Mypussiieehahah!”



“What? What are you saying?”



“Boyfriend! Aheehehaha!” Tanisha spluttered, unable to peace a coherent sentence together. “Mypussahaha! Stop! Eeeihaha! Stahahap!”



“You tryna lie to me again? Hm?” Skip cupped his hands around the gasping girl’s sides and kept his fingers still. With a groan he continued to slide himself slowly back and forth.



“No! No! I don’t fuck the customers!” The curvaceous girl wheezed, shuffling awkwardly as she was forced to pleasure the older man. “Only my boyfriend gets my pussy!”



“Oh yeah?” Sliding his hands down over her hips, the grunting fellow took a handful of each marshmallowy ass cheek and squeezed them both in tighter around his rigid erection. “He tickle you like this too?”



If Skip could have gotten any harder, the idea of Tanisha’s boyfriend constantly tickling her silly would have done the trick. If that wasn’t the case, the thought that he might be the only one to tickle her so much also thrilled the groping club manager to no end. Either way, the bewilderingly sensitive girl’s shapely backside stroking his large cock had him throbbing at full force, and the urge to climax skyrocketing as he pinched wildly at her butt. A new stream of explosive laughter roared out of the pinned young woman, her every muscle fighting beneath the sinewy man for escape.



“You just wait –unggh!” Skip rode the ferociously bucking girl like she were a wild animal, his fingers darting up and down the outer edges of her huge behind as he growled. “I’m gonna tell –unnh!- all your clients –awchrrrist!- how ticklish you are!”



“YEEIIIAHAHA! AHAHAH!” Nothing came in response, save for the tiny woman’s tsunami of berserk laughter.



It didn’t matter if Tanisha could hear him, the deviant man was done talking anyway. Fully corrupted by his newfound streak of sadism, Skip breathed heavy as he clawed the maddened dancer’s big ass. Throwing her head all over, the glimpses of her contorting face revealed twisting expressions of misery and deranged grins that would have looked more at home in some sort of asylum. When he switched from digging fingertips to scribbling strokes, the frazzled girl fell back into silent suffering. That was the moment, hearing her shrill cries turn to husky wheezing laughter, it sent a mighty jolt up the underside of Skip’s shaft.



“AH!” Teeth clenched, the silver-haired man grind into the struggling dancer’s backside, sure to keep his digits dancing as another carnal shock pulsated through his swollen cock.



Hungrily, the lewdly grunting man wrapped his lips around the squealing girl’s ear and gnawed. Shrieking loudly, the spasming young woman turned her head away, only for Skip to immediately nip at her other ear. As she flip-flopped back and forth, the ravenous man licked quickly at her earlobes, dragged his teeth softly across the nape of her neck and flicked his tongue into the divot behind her collarbone. Wide-eyed, it was likely Tanisha had no idea that while her mind fractured in a dozen places at once, her boss was pumping load after heavy load of hot cum directly up her back.



From the tip of her tailbone, over the harshly arching small of her spine and up onto the howling girl’s shirt, Skip drenched his hyperticklish employee in thick bursts of arousal. Clutching savagely at her thick ass cheeks, the shuddering manager dug his digits deep into the curvy girl’s flesh, his groans muffling as he sunk his teeth into her shoulder. Whimpering softly between deep breaths, Tanisha cringed at the feeling of her boss’ cum covering her back, her weakened attempts to wriggle out from under him still managing to caress his pulsing cock.



After taking a moment to catch his own breath, Skip pushed up with a satisfied sigh and peeled himself away from the comely dancer’s naked butt. Staggering a little as he climbed to his feet, knees a touch shaky, the drained older man grabbed either side of his pants and hiked them upward. Keeping both eyes on Tanisha’s backside, both cheeks almost glowing pink where his hands had run amok, a certain sense of pride washed over the normally irritable man as he zipped, buttoned and buckled his jeans. A lesson well taught, he smirked knowing that she would soon tell the other girls, a lesson he would be all too happy to repeat if their behavior didn’t improve.



“I’ll give you a ride home.” Skip stretched his back just as his young employee began gingerly rising up off the floor. “Right after you’re done cleaning your mess…and mine.”



In an event that surprised everyone from the bar staff to the bouncers, their manager arrived late the next day. Normally Skip tended to show up early, there before anyone most days, but on that particular Tuesday afternoon he took his sweet time. As predicted, word of Tanisha’s punishment from the previous night had already spread. At worst some of the girls didn’t quite know how to act around their boss, the others, Ruby especially, were all smiles and kind words. It wasn’t respect, Skip had been around the block enough times to know that, it was fear. Fear would do.



In the two days before Tanisha returned there was a slight anxiety she wouldn’t be back at all. Nonetheless, the once forlorn fellow maintained a firm belief that he was on the right path. Like he’d discovered some great secret, some magical way to get what he wanted without doing any real damage. At least, that’s what Skip thought, he wasn’t so naïve as to expect that any of his dancers would see things the same way. None of them protested openly, of course. Whenever there was the slightest hint that one of the girls might backslide into old habits the sinewy man would simply wiggle five fingers in their general direction.



Fortunately Tanisha was back on stage by Thursday night, and for the following week stepping into Glitter Grabbers felt like a whole new world. Skip shaved his near-permanent five o’ clock shadow and slicked his hair back a little tidier. He got new jeans, ones without holes, and even walked with a little pep in his step. What a difference just a little kindness made, a small glimmer of niceness in an otherwise dreary existence. For the first time in years, perhaps the first time ever, Skip actually looked forward to coming to work each day. He’d also pinch the girls randomly throughout their shifts, making them squeal and jump. No matter what other dramas were happening around the club, a quick poke to a dancer’s ribs or tummy always made the overworked man’s day considerably better.



Come the following Friday the increasingly handsy man was beginning to realize that the occasional prods and pinches weren’t going to be enough. Already he could see a few of the girls were starting to slip. Clothes were left on stage, customers were pick-pocketed, curiously smaller and smaller tips came Skip’s way, and one or two of the girls had even talked back. And, if he were being honest with himself, discipline was only one factor in the lustful manager’s desire toward upping his campaign of unconventional employee relations. In truth, more than anything, the pitiless man simply wanted to tickle the hell out of someone again.



“Scarlet said you wanted to see me?” Sapphire strutted into her boss’ office like she was still on stage.



“Shut the door.” Skip said without looking up from the mess of papers strewn about his desk.



“Is this about Leonard? Cause I told that guy-“



“Who’s Leonard?”



“Pudgy face, comb-over, glasses?” Closing the door, the young Puerto Rican woman spoke with a thick accent.



“That could be a dozen different customers.”



“The foot guy?”



“Oh.” Skip’s well-worn chair squeaked as he leaned back. Sapphire, or Mila as she was known off stage, was still wearing her skimpy police officer’s outfit. “What happened with the foot guy?”



Mila huffed, reluctant to tell the tale and clearly annoyed that she’d said anything about it to begin with. Pursing her plump lips as she crossed the short distance from the door to Skip’s desk, the older man paid a good deal more attention to the diminutive girl’s swagger than he ever had before. Not unlike Tanisha, the twenty-two year old Latina was of a similar build in a short and glaringly curvy fashion. With a pair of knock-off aviator glasses atop her head, Mila’s large cleavage squished together behind a dark navy-blue top and fake brass badge. Her thick thighs, clad in fishnet nylons, were almost entirely visible up to her shapely butt as the black miniskirt she wore hardly covered much at all. A pair of handcuffs dangled from her belt, and rounding out the ensemble were a pair of knee-high black boots with absurdly thick soles and high heels, not dissimilar to the pair Ruby had ended up in trouble over a week or so earlier.



“He’s not right in the head, that guy.” Mila put her tiny hands over the back of the opposite chair. “You know, me and the other girls, we told you before-”



“About the foot guy?” Skip said dryly. “Leonard.”



“Leonard, yeah. We all complained about him.”



“He tips well.”



“Yeah, I know, it ain’t that…“



“So?”



The curvaceous dancer sighed. “Like, all he wants to do is touch our feet. He never wants anything else. And okay, he tries to give you a massage or whatever, but it’s so awkward, like you’re just sitting there and it’s like okay, what do I do now?”



“You know what this sounds like?” The silver-haired man paused to tap his fingers once across the top of his desk. “It sounds like you’re whining because some guy wants to pay you to give you a foot massage.”



“Ttt.” Mila scoffed. “I knew you of all people wouldn’t care. I didn’t even want to say nothing.”



“What do you mean ‘me of all people’?”



“You know…the way you been…with the girls, you know….lately.”



Skip narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure I do.”

“He fuckin’ licked me, okay?” Waving her hands about as she spoke, the busty girl took on a distinctive look of contempt. “You get it now? He licked my foot, and I kicked him in the face. Sooo…”



“You kicked the foot guy.”

“I kicked the foot guy!” Mila snapped. “He’s a freak and I don’t care how much cash he flashes around, you shoulda banned his ass a long time ago!”



It was the older man’s turn to sigh. “This isn’t even why I called you in here.”



“Whatever man.” The buxom dancer threw up a dismissive hand. “What do you want?”



“Well…” Skip leaned forward, put both his large hands against the edge of his desk and stood up. “You’re not on next, I gave Scarlet your spot.”



“What?”



“I needed you here, is why.” Slowly, slowly so as not to frighten away his prey, the much taller man wandered around his desk. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the time back. But I needed…to discuss something…with you.”



Her big brown eyes following his every move, the scantily clad girl watched as her boss walked over to the door of his office. Once there, Skip maintained eye contact while he reached for the handle and, with a casual click, locked the door. Mila’s expression immediately changed, her brow furrowing and full lips drawing a thin line. As if he were about to deliver bad news, the deceptive man cupped both hands together and nodded gently.



“The thing is, Mila…” Skip stalked toward the voluptuous young dancer. “You girls…you always go back to the way you think things should be.”



“What the…what are you…” Her face twisting with confusion, the comely girl looked her boss quizzically up and down.



“There’s a new world order around here. A new way. I get it, change is hard, and the message hasn’t fully gotten across yet.”



“I have no idea-“



“But you’ll get the message. You and the others.” Parting his hands, the looming man spread his fingers and with a deliberately glacial pace began wiggling each one. “That’s why I called you in here, you’re going to help me spread the word.”



“Uh-uh.” Mila shook her head a little, the weight of her situation not yet having sunk in. “Whatever you’re thinking bossman, I don’t wanna be part of it. I’m just here to dance and get paid.”



“Milaaa…” A shark like grin growing across his face, the leering manager increased the speed of his fingers. “I hope you’re not ticklish Mila…”



Of course, Skip knew she was. All the poking and prodding the past week had given the boisterous man a keen sense of who among his dancers was most susceptible to a tickling touch. Ruby self-destructed after a few targeted pinches and Tanisha fell apart before even being touched, those two the sinewy man knew well. Dallas took a bit more effort, barely squeaking from a stroke across her abdomen but almost jumping out of her skin if anyone jabbed at her ribs. Scarlet swore like a sailor when her sides got squeezed and screamed like a horror movie damsel when the same was done to either of her knees. All the other dancers had their quirks and weaknesses, but it was Mila more than anyone else who’s explosive reactions made her defenses crumble in an instant.



“Y-you ain’t serious.” The bosomy Latina said like it was a fact she was trying to convince herself of. Stepping back, she reached behind and rolled the chair aside, continuing to retreat away from her advancing boss.



“Oh, I’m very serious.” Veering in the same direction as his prey, the smiling predator of a man followed as she bumped into the desk and began side-stepping to his left. “I’m going to tickle you, Mila.”



“No you’re fuckin’ not.” Unable to hide the tremble in her voice, the willful little minx pivoted sharply around the corner of the desk and ran.



“Here I cooome!” Skip teased, darting after the fleeing girl and wiggling all ten of his devious digits with wicked speed.



“Get away!” Her tone taking on a panicked pitch, the buxom escapee rounded the other end of the desk and turned for the door. “Leave me alone!”



“Tickle tickle tickle!”



“Noeehee! No!” Giggling as she reached the door, Mila fumbled hurriedly with the lock. “Let me out! Don’t touch me!” She risked a look back over one shoulder and instead of a lunging man about to grab her, saw that Skip was still a few feet away. Plodding forward with long, gradual steps, the eerily smirking man closed inch by painstaking inch between them. “Get back!” The fretful girl turned back to fiddle with the uncooperative lock, but couldn’t help from splitting her attention rapidly back and forth. “Eiehehe! No! Nono! Come on! Open! Eheheeiie! Sk-Skip! Stop! Ehehe!”



It was a basic enough lock, nothing complex about it, just a simple turn in one direction and the door would have opened easily. Seeing how much Mila struggled with it, her fear making her incapable of doing the one small thing that could have granted her freedom, Skip felt a most pleasurable sting of sadistic glee. Making sure to look her in the eye every time the giggling girl turned around, the poised older man enjoyed the dread as much as he enjoyed the horrified anticipation in her laughter. Another step left between them and feeling his cock swell, the lustful manager was less than a second away from pouncing when Mila ducked under his reaching arms and dashed away.



“Ohh, just wait ‘til I get my hands on you!” Skip raced after the fitful dancer.



“Noho!” Clutching the small chair, the determined girl rolled it back toward her boss with every bit of fury she could muster. “Not me!”

“The longer you avoid me, the worse I’ll make it!” He shoved the chair aside and immediately went back to wiggling his fingers. There was nowhere for the highly alarmed girl to go, the manager’s office didn’t even have windows.



“I’ll tell my cousins!” Mila took a handful of assorted papers and sent them flapping through the air. “You touch me, you regret it!”



“And what are you going to tell them?” Papers floating harmlessly down around his feet, the less-than-intimidated man began a second go round of his chaotically organized desk. “That your big bad boss tickled you?”



“Y-you ain’t doin’ to me like you did to Turquoise!”



“That’s funny, she said the same thing about Ruby.”



“Fuck you!” Mila sprang from behind the desk and made another mad rush for the door.



“Fuck me? Fuck me?!” Lunging after the busty young woman, this time the older man caught up just as she succeeded in opening the door a crack. Reaching right over the tiny girl’s head, he planted an open palm hard against the door and slammed it shut. Keeping that one hand firmly in place, Skip reached around with his other hand and quickly locked the door a second time. “Now we’ll see who regrets what!”



“NO!” Moving to flee again, the fearful dancer barely made it a single step when both her boss’ long arms coiled around her stomach from behind. “Nowait!” She squealed, then jerked wildly as all ten of the tall man’s fingertips dug speedily into her sides. “Eeiiiahaha! Ahahaha! No, bicho!”



Caught in his reverse bear hug, the loudly giggling girl’s voluptuous body wriggled and pressed up against the much stronger man’s rapidly hardening cock. Through the thin material of her outfit, Skip could feel the dancer’s muscles seizing as he poked eagerly at her midriff. Mila’s boots stomped clumsily as she barked a string of Spanish curse words, her small hands pushing at the forearms locked across her convulsing abdomen. Long dark hair whipping about his cleanly-shaven jaw line, the older man leaned further forward as his latest struggling victim began to double over.



“Fahaha! Fuckahaha!” Shaking her wide hips, the bosomy girl’s dollar-store glasses tumbled from the top of her head. “Skiiiiipahaha! Letgohoooo! Eeeihaha!”



“You’ll thank me when this is over.” Skip grinded himself into the shapely dancer’s plum-shaped ass as she squirmed. “Or maybe not, but you will behave!”



“I’m gonna fahahaha! Skiheehee! I’mgonnafahahall!” Halfway to the floor, the hapless dancer’s knees were bent and wobbling, her boss’ fiendish grip the main force keeping her off the carpet. “Stopahahaha! Skihehehep!”



Easing her down, the now rigidly erect man let Mila join her glasses on the floor. With his arms still held around her midsection, Skip kneeled behind her, curling over the voluptuous dancer’s backside and holding her in place. Bent as she was over her own knees, the helplessly laughing young woman’s short skirt rode up, the lower half of her jiggling butt cheeks and jet black g-string exposed between them. His cock throbbing against those curvaceous buns, the amorous manager could have happily remained there until he made a mess of his boxers. Resisting the temptation, Skip knew he had to keep his ultimate goal in mind. He had to go further than he’d ever gone before.



“EIEha!” Mila sprang forward when the ten dastardly digits at her sides suddenly scribbled up to her ribs. Facedown, the spluttering girl tried to crawl away, instead giving up within the space of a second as she snapped her elbows down to protect herself.



His arms uncoiled, Skip hurriedly straddled the backs of the bucking girl’s thick thighs, fingertips digging directly into the tender spots between each rib. Though she shoved and jabbed with her elbows, the tiny girl’s efforts were wasted on the groping man. Behind him Mila’s leather boots kicked, her flailing legs even more unhelpful than her wildly flapping arms. Of particular interest to the wiry fellow was the rapid evolution of his newest tickle toy’s laughter, mostly how quick her streams of swear words turned to gasping pleas. The fiery young dancer still swore, though Skip did notice most of it wasn’t at him directly anymore. After nearly two full minutes at least half of what she managed to squeak out was a jumbled mix of ‘stops’ and ‘don’ts’ and even the occasional ‘please’.



“Poor form, Officer Sapphire!” Clawing hands locked around her ribcage, the grinning man teased. “Isn’t it usually the cops who do the frisking?”



“Skiiiip! Eeehahaha!” Mila glared back at him, the whites of her eyes wide around worrisome brown irises and her cheeks a pinky hue. “Stop! Eeehahaha! Ican’tbreatheehehehe!”



“You can’t breathe?”



“Pleaheeheeheese! Ahahaha!”



“You can’t breathe? You sure?”



“I cahahaha! Ican’tahahaha!”



“Then you’re really gonna hate this!” Skip raced both unruly bunches of pinching fingers down the spasming girl’s sides, burrowed under the bottom of her tight-fitting top and shot all ten fingers back up again.



“EIIEEEE! EEEHahahaaaa!” The squealing dancer shook madly, the top half of her costume straining against all the movement and uninvited new occupants.



As he’d seen the busty girl’s stage performance many a time before, the sinewy man knew there was no bra to contend with beneath her shirt. Fingertips spidering up her ribcage, Skip wasted no time grazing his curious digits against the squishy sides of the panicked dancer’s bosoms, her skin softer than the finest tissue. Her tactics for resistance apparently executed without any sensible thought at all, Mila clamped her arms in tight, the effect just as useless for protection as it had been just seconds earlier.



“How’s your breathing now?” Chuckling at his own wit, the taunting man poked two fingers into the undersides of the buxom girl’s breasts, the remaining eight digits drilling at every inch of sensitive flesh they could find.



“Stoooopahaha! Stopplease! Eeehahaha!” Mila strained, her half uncovered butt bouncing up and down as she tried to roll one way or the other.



Music to the malevolent manager’s ears, her begging cries sending throb after wanton throb through his swollen cock. Recalling then that the buttons down the front of his mirthful dancer’s outfit were merely snap-on fasteners meant for quick removal, Skip began pressing his arms outward. Though she fought to keep her own arms in, the several minutes of nonstop tickling had severely weakened the poor girl’s resolve. Whether or not Mila knew her boss’ intent she strained hard either way, still giggling loudly as her arms were gradually pushed further apart. After a few seconds the costume police shirt stretched enough that the older man felt some tension give away, the first button popping free.



“Ohno!” Apparently feeling the same slack in her tautly worn top, the frenzied girl began grabbed frantically at the thin material. “NoSkipno! Pleheehee! Pleheeheese!”



“Oh, was I not clear?” Another button sprang free and Skip slid his hands a little higher, pushing outward all the while. “When I said I was going to tickle you, what I meant was I’m going to tickle you everywhere!”



Reaching under herself, the desperate dancer continued to beg through girlish giggles as she clutched at the slowly loosening shirt. The third of only four buttons snapped and by then there was hardly any point in trying to stay clothed. Logic evidently not something Mila had in abundance when tickled, she kept trying all the same even as the fourth and final button popped apart. Quick as he could, Skip slipped his hands out and grabbed the back of the pinned girl’s collar, pulling the unbuttoned top down over her shoulders.



“No! No!” Rolling and reaching to her back, the dark haired young woman struggled to grip at her disappearing shirt, the short sleeves already part way down her biceps. “Dallas! Scarlet! Aheeheehee! He’s gone crazy!”



“You’d be better off calling for your fairy godmother.” The sinewy man tugged and tugged at the open top, getting it as far as the crook of his captive’s elbows before having to change tactics. “Gimmie your arm!”



“Nonono!” Red across her cheeks, Mila buried both arms beneath herself as the man atop her took hold of her left wrist. “Skip stop iiiit! Nnnnno!” She winced, one arm shaking as it was pulled slowly out from under her.



Forcing the comely Latina’s arm out, the merciless man used his other hand to yank at the wrinkled costume piece. Passed her elbow and down her forearm, Skip wrestled for several twisting, awkward seconds before the sleeve finally fell free. In an instant Mila snapped her left arm back under her shoulder and squealed loudly when her boss grabbed her other arm. Repeating the same process, albeit a good deal easier than the first round, the bulge in the tall man’s jeans pulsed as he tore the shirt free and rendered his unwilling plaything topless.



“You’d make a terrible cop, Sapphire!” Skip goosed the half naked dancer’s sides. “All the bad guys would tickle you and get away!”



“Eeeiiehahaha!” Pawing wildly at her pillowy sides, the wriggling girl’s stomach curled inward as she laughed. “Ahhhdohohon’t! Ahaha! Ihateit! Ahahaha!”



“You hate what? You hate this?” He ran his devilish digits downward and her hands chased him, he ran his hands back up to her ribs and the bewildered girl pried at his fingers in a ticklish panic.



“Yeeeesahaha! Stoppleeeeheeheese!”



“Good!” Skip kept his hands darting up and down, five fingers on either sides kneading all the way from the crazed girl’s heaving ribs to her bouncing hips. “This is punishment for bad behavior, you should hate it!”



“I’msorry! Ahahaha! I’mseeeheehee! I’msorry! Stohahahap!” Mila wheezed.



“A coerced apology doesn’t count!”



“Noplease! Ahaha! R-really! Eeehahaha!”



“You know what?” Giving the frazzled girl’s left side an especially vicious series of biting pinches, the cunning man swiftly snatched the handcuffs from her belt with his free hand. “You’re under arrest!”



“EEEIIAHAHA!” Reeling from the sudden assault at her side, Mila rolled sharply as far away as she could, her upperbody twisting as her boss’ firm grip wrapped around her left wrist.



A moment passed, a few remaining giggles panting and draining away, the voluptuous girl having not noticed that Skip had pinned one hand against the small of her back. As she flopped onto her tummy, gasping and whining, it was not until the metal of the very real handcuffs clicked around her wrist that Mila realized something was very wrong. Thrashing violently, a new pitch of abject dread rang through the alarmed girl’s voice as she went into a tirade of helpless pleas. That previously unheard level of distress in her tone sent Skip’s libido into orbit, and his hands couldn’t have moved quick enough to get the curvy dancer’s other wrist restrained.



“You can’t do this! Skip! Skip, no!”



Oh but he could, and the idea of having a horribly ticklish young woman bound felt to the silver-haired man like he’d just invented fire. How he’d gone forty-two mostly miserable years without restraining and tickling young women was a mystery for the ages. It was an epiphany, and as Skip clicked the right hand cuff firm around the begging girl’s wrist his heart raced with sadistic power. Loosening the grip of his legs around Mila’s thighs, the wickedly grinning man took hold of her arms and flipped the half naked girl over, her great bare bosoms wobbling in the open air.



“N-no!” Pushing back like a backwards caterpillar, the fearful dancer only got a few inches before her boss’ knees clamped back around her upper thighs. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” She shook her head, eyes trembling as she looked up at the leering man. “I’ll never upset you again! I promise! I’ll be so good!”



“I know.” Skip examined every delectable, sensitive inch of the writhing girl’s upperbody with a ravenous glare. Spurred on by the knowledge she could do nothing, hands trapped behind her, the cruel manager wiggled his fingertips toward her quivering tummy. “You still need to be punished.”



“NO! NONOPLEASE! Eeehehee!” Giggling before her boss’ fingers had touched down, the bosomy prisoner jerked at her arms, wriggled her wide hips and stared bug-eyed as the ten descending digits drew closer. “Nono! Don’t do it! Nohopleaseohgod! Eheeheehee!”



“What was it you called me before? ‘Bicho’?”



“NoI’msorry! Dontahahaha! Ahahah! Aaaiieeehahaha!” Mila lurched up, rolled to her right and exploded into a fit of squealing laughter when the man’s dancing digits frolicked across her defenseless, bare midriff. “Eeiieehahaha! Stoahaha! Stopahahaha!”



“What does that mean, ‘bicho’?” Fingertips feathering up her sides, the entranced man stroked quickly above the baffled girl’s navel and down to her back. “It’s not ‘boss’, is it?”



“Eeeeiehaha! I’msorry! Eeheiaiaha! Please!”



“For calling me ‘boss’? Unless it doesn’t mean ‘boss’…” He spidered every digit along the soft skin above Mila’s beltline and pinched rapidly up her convulsing belly.



“Ididn’tmeanit!” She managed to blurt out between giggles.



“Oh? Well what does it mean?” Skip clawed higher and poked at the bouncing, jiggling flesh of the desperate dancer’s huge breasts, her light brown nipples rocking along for the ride.

“Tell me and maybe I’ll stop!”



“Noeeeiiehaha! Ahahaha! You’llticklememooooreahahaha!”



“More? My my, it must be bad. Well, I’m not going to stop tickling until you tell me…”



Inching his hands higher up the sides of Mila’s naked bosoms, the poor girl’s mind must have been in ten different places at once. She knew the game was rigged just as well as Skip did, there was no winning for the one in handcuffs. Meanwhile, the sinister manager had claimed victory before the game even begun. Confess or don’t, it didn’t matter, the pitiless older man was intent on tickling her either way. As his wiggling fingertips came within striking distance of the shapely girl’s underarms she must have decided to take the chance, the tiny, miniscule, non-existent chance that maybe doing as she was told would at least gain a short rest from the torture.



“Dick! Ahahaha! Bichooohahaha! Dieeheeheeck!” Mila yelped, the agonized wrinkle of her brow contrasted by a wide, open-mouth grin. “Itoldyou! Eheehahastop! StopItoldyoooeehe!”



“You called me a dick?”



“Yeeeheehees! I’msahahaa! I’msorreeeieeheeehe!”



“You will be!” Skip slid his palms up the marshmallowy soft sides of the bound girl’s breasts and scurried two intrepid fingertips as far into her underarms as he could.



“EEEIIEHAHAHAAA!” Yanking at the cuffs behind her back, a shrill screaming laughter exploded from the tiny girl. Flexing her arms tightly, she pulled and pulled to bring her shoulders around more, the tall man’s fingertips digging and stroking at the poorly protected crease between her arms and upper-most ribs. “STOOOPAHAHA!”



For a second, maybe two, the evermore depraved man wondered if anyone could hear Mila’s woeful cries. He hoped so, he hoped word had already spread among the other dancers. Perhaps a couple of them came to listen, pressed their ears to the door and were shaken by the sound of their coworker’s pleas. Pleas that went answered, because Skip Okrutny was no longer a man to be walked over. He imagined Scarlet, Dallas and the others fearing for their own futures, dreading putting a foot wrong for the promise that they too could end up trapped under their boss’ unforgiving fingers. And they would now, whether they did wrong or not.



Crawling five digits up over each of the spasming girl’s shoulders, the feverishly aroused man danced every fingertip into the sides of Mila’s neck. Her uproarious laughter turned to a stream of schoolgirl giggles as she tucked her shoulders up and rolled her head from side to side. Pursing her lips, the half-stripped girl muffled her own squeaking protests, eyes closed tight and her cheeks and forehead now a deep, darker red. Skip scooted his fingers down, wiggled them all around the area closest to the dancer’s underarms and again she bellowed with a raucous laughter. For a solid thirty seconds or more he kept the ferociously struggling girl in that same desperate fit, her laughter remaining just as volatile when his wandering hands ran downward to claw at her heaving ribcage.



Less and less the tormented girl was able to speak, her howled words broken and constantly cut off by squealing cries. A minute, two minutes, who cared about the time, Skip squeezed cruelly at the frazzled dancer’s sides, skated his fingertips across her convulsing tummy and pinched speedily up and down her fleshy abdomen. Before long a light coating of sweat gleamed across Mila’s belly and the undersides of her bouncing bosoms. Sliding his fingertips easily across hot slick skin, the fiendishly perverse manager spread his hardworking digits wide and clawed up and down her tummy. She laughed and laughed, begged weakly and only paused to take the occasional distraught breath, every inch of the maddened girl from bucking hips to protruding ribs covered in an erratic map of tickled-pink tracks.



Finally, his cock aching as it strained beneath his jeans and boxers, the older man set to unbuttoning Mila’s skirt with impatient speed. So winded was the shapely girl from her ticklish onslaught she put up no obvious fight. Panting hard and wheezing, the best the exhausted dancer could manage was some fitful writhing as her boss unzipped the tiny skirt and slid it out from under her. Skip tossed the useless bit of pretend uniform aside and breathed a little heavy himself. As he hooked four fingers under either side of the curvy young woman’s waistband the lustful man heard her whimper, and a single tear rolled down one bright red cheek.



Over at the rival club, Long Neck, the bikers that ran the place kept their girls in line any number of terrible ways. They were more pimps than strip club managers, using drugs, violence and financial ruin to make sure the dancers did as they were told. Skip abhorred treating anyone like that, dancers or otherwise. He’d gained tips of course from the girls’ extra duties, hand jobs, blowjobs, full blown fucking, though he never forced them into it. Going above and beyond was always their choice. Glitter Grabbers was held to a higher standard, and there was a certain pride in that. A certain sense of superiority. Skip was better, all he did was tickle the girls, make them laugh, leave no lasting damage. It was only when that thick tear streamed down Mila’s face did he realize that what he was doing might just be as bad as the bikers. Perhaps, at least in the eyes of some of the girls, even worse.



Skip let his legs loose, walked backwards on his knees and pulled the teary dancer’s g-string down over her knees. Naked from her fishnets on up, the handcuffed girl wriggled backward across the carpet, her smooth pussy distracting the lustful man long enough that she made a full half foot escape. Snagging Mila’s lower left leg, Skip dragged her back into his grasp, hooked one arm around her calf and used both hands to begin unbuckling her high-heeled boot. Black panties stretching between her knees, the disheveled girl kicked wildly, arching her back and jolting sharply in the opposite direction.



“You don’t like the foot guy?” Skip huffed as he struggled to get hold of the zipper at the top of the boot. “I think I’m starting to get why…”



“N-NONO!” Gasping, voice worn and husky from unending laughter the tiny girl’s kicks and jolts turned to violent thrashing. “NO PLEASE!”



“He’s one of our best customers!” Pinching the jangling zip, the merciless man tore it downward, parting the two sides in one fell swoop. For all the busty girl’s fighting spirit, nothing prevented that boot from popping free, her petit foot covered only by the sheer material of her stocking.



At the first sign of her boss’ grip loosening, Mila whipped her leg out from under his arm. Where she intended to flee the silver-haired fellow had no idea, either way it wasn’t more than an inch or two as he quickly lunged and grabbed up her other boot. Repeating the same process, Skip unbuckled and unzipped the frenzied dancer’s last item of significant clothing while keeping it trapped in the crook of one arm. Sending the boot somewhere back behind him, the enraptured manager now had his curvaceous plaything all but entirely nude.



“SKIP! YOU CAN’T!” Mila screamed, distress making her voice break as the wiry man snatched up both her slender ankles and wrestled them under his right arm. “NOT THERE! NOT THERE! ANYTHING YOU WANT! ANYTHING!”



Figuring no response would be more troubling than further teasing, Skip turned on his knees to face the other direction. With his back to the fitful girl, he coiled one arm tight around her ankles so both stocking-clad feet poked out from under his shoulder. As she continued to kick and plead, stifling sobs and begging loudly, the sinister man held his free hand up high where he knew the poor girl could see it. To a noticeable spike in Mila’s panicked cries, he started slowly wiggling all five digits and lowering his hand gradually toward her vulnerable soles. In what little room they had to maneuver those two petit feet crisscrossed nervously back and forth over one another, neither one wanting to be the first to endure their master’s wrath.



“Nearly there…” Skip held his fingertips less than an inch from the nude girl’s squirming soles.



“Skip, please, boss, pleaseplease-“ On the verge of hyperventilating, the breathless girl stared and shook her head, her frantic words all but lost among her desperate gasps. “Nono please, please you don’t –ah ah- you don’t understand!”



“Oh, I think I do…”



“NONO! DON’T!



“You have very ticklish feet!” And with that the once perpetually surly manager spidered five devilish digits all over the bottoms of his captive’s hyperticklish soles.



“EEEEIIIYAAAAHAHAHAAA!” Mila’s tiny toes spread, her whole body convulsing with ferocious force as she wailed with unhinged laughter.



Almost losing grip from the unexpected force of the berserk girl’s struggling, Skip clamped his arm a good bit firmer. Across the devastatingly thin material of the stockings, the boisterous man ran his five fingertips over her tender heels, up her arches and across the explosively sensitive balls of her feet. The closer he drew to Mila’s toes the more intensely she cackled, and when his freely frolicking digits slid directly under them the sounds she made were like no human nor animal he’d ever heard. Without stopping, the gleefully wicked man looked back over one shoulder to see a constant river of tears rolling down both sides of the crazed dancer’s stretched cheeks. Thick beads of sweat drizzled down her wrinkled forehead, long strands of hair stuck to her crimson cheeks and the mindless glare in her wide open eyes was that of a person utterly, raving mad.



As turned on by the buxom girl’s hysterics as he was curious to see how long she could keep fighting and laughing so hard, Skip silently congratulated himself for resisting temptation as long as he had. Curling his right wrist up, the lustful manager realized he could keep tickling the thrashing girl’s heels and hold her in place with the same arm. He couldn’t quite reach every inch of Mila’s soles that way, yet she remained in a cackling state of delirium nonetheless. Left arm now free, the wantonly driven man gave his hand new purpose and quickly unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly and began shuffling out of his pants.



Torn between driving Mila mad and disrobing himself further, Skip switched back and forth between tickling her with both hands and pulling off his jeans. Boxers down around his knees, the engorged man sighed with relief at the feeling of his rock hard cock rising to the open air. A hundred-dozen different lewd ideas went through the sinful older man’s mind, she’d said it herself and he knew it to be true, the dark haired dancer would have done anything to make the foot assault cease. Cockhead pulsing and glistening in the office light, her lips, tongue, her tits, hell even the bosomy girl’s feet could have happily bought her boss to climax.



Partly wishing he had more willpower to keep the conquered Latina in mirthful misery for far longer, the half-undressed man dropped her legs unceremoniously. Quickly, he scrambled to his feet, kicked his shoes off and in a couple of awkward, hoping dances pulled his pants, boxers and socks clean away. Turning back toward Mila, the sadistic manager tore his shirt off hurriedly over his head and sent it sailing by the wayside. Now looming over the ravaged girl with his erect cock curved toward the ceiling, Skip grit his teeth, his well defined abdomen flexing with each heavy, grunting breath.



Watching her plump bottom lip quiver, the tall man dived back down to the floor, crawled over top of his naked prisoner and pinned one of her shoulders to the carpet. Leaning in close, he put his lips to her ear and whispered “Will you suck my cock?”



“Y-yes.” The curvy girl mewled, her hefty chest shaking as more tears slid down her cheeks.



“How about I fuck your tits?” Propped up on his knees either side of her left leg, Skip used his free hand to gently dance over one side of Mila’s hips.



“Yehe! Yes!”



“Your ass?” He pinched the squishy edge of her tummy.



“Eeiehee! A-a-anything!”



“Pussy?” With tiny pokes, Skip wiggled the tip of his index finger slowly toward the fitful dancer’s belly button.



“F-fuck me! Pleaeheese!” Mila squirmed, her eyes and shaking head betraying the feigned eagerness of her words.



Circling her navel with that one finger, the vile man grinned as he noticed the destitute girl’s eyes widen. She twitched and tried to roll but he had her held firm, one shoulder pushed down and one leg in a vice-grip between his knees. Mila sniffled and a small whine turned to barely held-back sobs of horrid anticipation. Had she ever felt as powerless and afraid, the nude manager wondered, he certainly had never felt so commanding and in control. The harrowed look across her face and the vibrations of the young woman’s cries up Skip’s arm should have made him wither from guilt, instead he could have cum right then and there.



“NYYAAAAHAHA!” Straining to sit up, the shadow of the once strutting dancer shrieked as her boss’ index finger wiggled deep into her ludicrously ticklish belly button.



Between his knees and against his hand, one trapped leg and one pinned shoulder pushed furiously against the wiry man. She tossed her head wildly, rolling against the carpet and screaming a storm of demented laughter. Mila’s one free leg, her only limb with any amount of freedom, kicked and slammed with such force it was a wonder she didn’t put a hole through the floor. So calamitous, so riotous and so chaotically primal were the ballistic girl’s reactions that Skip could hardly believe it was all from the simple movement of one singular finger.



Swirling that one destructive digit, the nefarious man stroked all over the depths of the howling dancer’s navel. Combining a tiny circular motion and speedy wiggling, Skip drew his one finger in and out, grazing the edges and rim of Mila’s belly button, diving directly back in and skating back out all over again. As the tummy torture neared a full, relentless sixty seconds the curvy girl can’t have blinked more than once, her eyes aghast in what appeared to be a near permanent state of shock. Imagining keeping her in that state for hours, the hypnotic vision of his mindlessly laughing employee made the older man’s cock pulse sharply.



“Ah!” Skip winced, tried to suppress the feeling and instead felt another unruly pang throb through his over-swelled erection.



No stopping it now, the silver-haired manager resigned himself to the will of all-consuming lust. Letting the pressure off Mila’s shoulder, he leaned back and with her navel still being rigorously explored used his now free hand to claw brutishly up and down her tickled-pink side. Another ominous jolt forced the nude man to tighten his abdomen, at which point the frazzled dancer curled upright, her large jiggling bosoms pressing into his arm. Squished, sweat-glossed boobs filled Skip’s field of vision and the next pang that made his cock flex bought with it a burst of white hot cum. Throwing herself backward, Mila fell cackling wordlessly with a splash of liquid climax across the middle of her chest. Another unstoppable shot cleared the entirety of her belly and exploded across the bottom of her bare bosoms.



Mouth open wide, Skip grunted and groaned with each forceful throb. One hand pinching savagely at the bewildered girl’s midriff, his other hand kept drilling mercilessly into her painfully soft navel. There was no holding back as Mila’s breasts and tummy were splattered in a thick mess of cum. If she knew then that her boss’ satisfaction was displayed messily all over her torso, the vanquished dancer showed no sign of it, only continuing to roar with anguished laughter. Only when he was done, when the formerly prideful and sassy young woman lay in an overly groped, manhandled, sweat-soaked and cum covered heap did she finally stop laughing. He finally stopped tickling her, and sat back on to the carpet with his bare ass, the pair of them gasping and staring off into nothingness for two very different reasons.



Mila didn’t work the rest of that day, instead she’d fallen asleep, or passed out at any rate. A pile of tangled hair and tear stained cheeks, the buxom girl had panted and wheezed herself into a fitful kind of slumber. Skip, ever the thoughtful employer, pulled a long coat from the dressing room and draped it over the nude girl. Locking his office door behind him, the cheerful and gratified man went about the next few hours performing his usual managerial duties. None of the other dancers so much as gave their newly tyrannical boss a sideways glance. In fact, the only person who looked marginally funny in Skip’s direction was a pudgy, bespectacled fellow at the bar with a comb over and bright red mark under one eye.



“Leonard, isn’t it?” He propped his elbows on the bar beside the lonesome looking man and offered an unusually welcoming smile.



“…I didn’t do anything wrong.” The man named Leonard leaned away and kept his comically magnified eyes locked on the half full glass of cranberry juice before him.



“No, of course not.” Skip put on his best consoling tone, which sounded a lot like he needed more practice. “Leonard, you’re one of my best customers. It’s my girls who’ve done the wrong here.”



“It’s okay…”



“No. No Leonard, it’s not.” Frowning empathetically, the slick-haired man caught his sheepish customer’s eye. “Glitter Grabbers would like to apologize. I want to apologize. If you’ll follow me, I have something I think might make up for that nasty blow you took.”



“O…okay.”



Skip sprang from the bar and had to slow down twice to wait for the shorter man to catch up. He strode through the back and into the hall with the private rooms, passed the open curtains and purposefully empty seats almost all the way to the exit. By the door to the parking lot outback was the one and only room with the curtains drawn. Towering over his most valued guest, the smirking manager gave Leonard a respectful nod and gestured toward the mystery beyond.



“Oh my…” The fumbling fellow stammered as he parted the curtain.



Looking over the balding man’s questionable haircut, Skip’s smile grew. Mila lay right where he’d left her, bound and naked on the floor of the private room. He’d taken her stockings while she still slept and stuffed one into her mouth a minute later when she woke up. To the tune of muffled protests, the sadistic older man had taken tape from his desk and wrapped it over her mouth, making sure that no one heard the young Latina’s screams when he’d carried her out of his office. Once there he’d laid the handcuffed girl down and used that same roll of packing tape to bind her ankles either side of the stripper pole. Now, with her bare feet wiggling helplessly a foot off the floor, Mila stared, breathing heavy, and looked about as stricken by terror as anyone could be.



“She’s all yours, champ.” Skip took a step back and watched the curtain fall behind Leonard.



As he made his way back down the hall, the dancer’s muted pleas grew louder and louder still. Just as he reached the door to backstage, the wiry club manager stopped and listened. The pitch of Mila’s cries spiked a great deal higher and even with a stocking trapped between her teeth there was no mistaking the sound of helpless, involuntary laughter. It was good to be the boss.

The End​

 

[TickleMFG]

Excellent story! I love the setting.

 

[TickleMantis]

Thank you!