Teacher’s Pet Ch 12

DISCLAIMER #1: All sexual acts in this story occur between adults over the age of 18.

DISCLAIMER #2: Themes of this story revolve largely around humiliation, black mail, and voyeurism. If you are not interested in these themes, please do not read. Of course, in real life much of what is portrayed in this story is despicable, and should not be tolerated under any circumstance. Hence, why this is a story of fantasy, and should not be taken seriously.

DISCLAIMER #3: While themes of the story certainly can be dark, I do try to keep things light with a certain “comic book” style. Again keep in mind that this is a work of fantasy and not everything will be fully realistic.

Enjoy! Please leave comments on what you want to see next as much of the following chapter is a work in progress. Cheers

Chapter 12

Katee’s Perspective

We arrived at the run down strip club in the bad part of town. We definitely didn’t live in a large city. This was the only strip club we had, so it had gotten pretty infamous. I had driven passed this place sometimes with my dad. He always used to tell me this is where girls end up that make bad choices in their life, and cautioned me to focus on school.

I snapped out of the flash back of my sweet dad giving me fatherly advice to the present time.

“So pal, I can either give you 20 bucks, or my teen girlfriend here can show you her tits.” Mr Wilson bartered with the middle aged Indian cab driver.

The cab driver quickly made up his mind on what he wanted.

Mr. Wilson looked at me and gave me the nod. My cheeks blushed. I looked down at my tits. I gulped before reaching down to the bottom of my top and lifting it above my teen tits, baring them to this strange man sitting in the driver’s seat of the cab.

I could hear him sigh, I preferred to look away from him.

“Dear god” He exclaimed. As he turned

I felt Mr. Wilson’s big hands grope my boobs, one tit at a time. He lifted each one up for the cabbie’s inspection.

“Nice huh? Bet you haven’t seen big young tits like these before hey bud.”

“No sir, never” The cabbie replied in a thick Indian accent.

Mr. Wilson put his hand on my back and pushed me forward towards the man.

“Well this is your lucky day bud. As a tip, I’m gonna let you feel them.”

I looked away from the man as I had my bare tits just a foot or so away from him.

“Thank you sir, Thank you!” He exclaimed

I soon felt his hairy hands start to cautiously touch my tits. I peeked and saw a wedding band on his ring finger. I’m sure he wasn’t thinking much about his wife right now.

Like I’ve felt so many times before, the man started to grow confidence as Mr. Wilson didn’t stop him from groping me. He must have figured I was powerless to stop him. He continued molesting me, groping my tits harder before he started playing with my nipple.

“Marvelous” he cried.

After another minute or two, Mr. Wilson interrupted.

“Well we gotta get going man. But why don’t you take a picture of her. As a momento for you to ‘remember her by’.” Mr. Wilson sneered.

The man stumbled for his cell phone.

“Katee, smile for the camera.” He sneered

I couldn’t believe this. What was to stop this man from sending this to all his creepy cab driver friends, or worst, to post it online!

I knew I was powerless to resist. I looked at the camera, and forced a sad smile as I heard the clicks of his phone camera going off, photographing my nude tits feverishly.

“Wonderful!” Mr. Wilson exclaimed. He let me know I could cover my tits up, I couldn’t get my top on quick enough.

The cab driver thanked him profusely, and gave him his personal number to call when we needed a ride at the end of the night. Mr. Wilson chuckled, and assured that he would call him when we were done.

He led me out of the car and around the side of the bar. He knocked on the side door. After about 10 seconds, a short pudgy Italian looking man opened the door. He looked me up and down, and smiled lustfully. He led us inside.

He was comically short, I’m sure he couldn’t have been taller than 5 feet. He was as round as he was tall, and have greasy black hair. He looked like the type to own a place like this. He led us into his small, dingy back office.

He invited me and Mr. Wilson to sit down. Mr. Wilson quickly interjected, assuring that I would stand. I knew he did this to further embarrass me. The owner smiled. He sat down. I stood at Mr. Wilson’s side, like an obedient pet while he took a seat.

The owner again looked me up and down, my belly button pendent caught his eye. He smiled again, before turning to Mr. Wilson.

…

Mr. Wilson’s perspective

This was my kind of guy. Short, bald, degenerate, and still able build a business built on objectifying women and treating them as objects. I’m sure he had his fair share of access to the talent as well.

We went on to introduce ourselves, I had talked to Vito over the phone before, but this was my first time meeting in person.

I introduced Katee to him. I explained that she was my ‘client’, and she was looking to make some money, and that I was representing her and would be negotiating on her behalf.

I don’t think Vito cared what the story was, he was just excited to have this young and hot piece of ass dancing in his strip joint.

I quickly negotiated that Vito could keep 90% of her income, which was unheard of in the industry, but I wanted complete control of her outfit, and wanted to supervise her instead of the bar security. I wanted men to be able to get away with more with her than with the standard strippers.

Vito quickly accepted. He walked us to the back change room, where he let Katee in. I handed her a bag containing her outfit for the night. I then went to the bar and got a drink, courtesy of Vito.

Man, this place was a dump. The lighting was awkwardly bright, looking tacky. There were groups of men at different table, drinking beers and chatting, being served by scantily clad women.

The women here were nothing to write home about. Maybe my standards had increased since having full access to Katee’s perfect teen body. But still, many of these women were in their 40’s. Most had flab in the wrong places, with not enough meat in the right places. Some were younger, but they looked beat up and scrawny, looking like they may have had drug habits.

I sipped my beer as I scanned around the place. Despite the shotty talent, the bar was starting to fill up. I guess it was the only strip joint in town, and there was never a shortage of horny men.

There was no large central stage like you see in larger strip clubs. I watched as scantily clad women went from table to table, looking for business. It seemed that whenever the client would agree to pay for a lap dance, the girl would take him to one of the rooms in the back.