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 centre 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 perfoming 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 realised 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.
The second time wasn’t any better, or the third. Eventually Laura became numb to it, and resigned herself to the fact that her vulva was going to be on display every time she took an order. She focused on smiling delightedly at the customers as they complimented and occasionally squeezed her milkbags, and not instead bursting into tears at the constant humiliation of her life and the continual pain in her chained rapemelons.