Tommy's Retribution

[Blondie]

Chapter 17: Sally and Cindy Unveiled

After the second can-can performance concluded, the eight women dared to hope that their ordeal was finally over. They had just finished shaking their naked backsides for the amusement of Tommy and his ninety cheering guests, and they assumed that humiliation would serve as the grand finale.

But to their mounting dismay, the curtain had not yet fallen on their misery.

Behind the scenes, Molly stood grinning just offstage, thoroughly enjoying her role as grand director of Tommy’s revenge. She watched with folded arms as the red-faced, pantyless dancers made a frantic beeline for the dressing room.

“Sally, sweetie! Could you step over here a second, please?” Molly called out, pointing a finger at Tommy’s sister. "The rest of you can go in and close the door. I'll fetch you when it's your turn."

While the other seven women shuddered at whatever "your turn" could possibly mean, Sally’s shoulders sagged visibly. Being singled out by her brother’s girlfriend was not a good sign.

"I have to say, Sally," Molly teased, stepping closer and smoothing down an imaginary wrinkle on Sally's dress. “You really seem to have a natural talent for this can-can thing. The way you kicked those legs out there? My goodness, you were practically born for the stage!”

"Please," Sally begged. "Can't I just... can't I just go inside with the others? Please?"

Molly ignored her plea entirely, her smile widening. "How would you like to do a solo performance? Doesn't that sound like fun? Just you out there, center stage, giving these nice people something truly memorable to take home with them."

Sally’s expression made it abundantly clear that "fun" was not the word she would have chosen. But, as she had learned over the last few agonizing hours, resistance was entirely futile. Best to just get out there, get her little dance out of the way, and be done with it, she thought.

Then Molly leaned in and whispered further instructions into Sally's ear.

"We're going to try something a little different this time, Sally, just for variety's sake," Molly purred. "Here’s what I want you to do...”

As Molly laid out the plan, Sally’s jaw dropped in pure, unadulterated horror.

"Oh, no," Sally gasped, her voice cracking into a high squeak. "Please. No! Please don't make me do that!" She reached out instinctively, her fingers grasping desperately at Molly's sleeve. “Haven’t I done enough already? I poured drinks, I danced... I've done everything you asked. Please, Molly, I'm begging you."

"Oh, sweetheart," Molly cooed, her eyes twinkling with malicious delight as she gently extracted her sleeve from Sally's desperate grip. "You're going to be amazing. Trust me, they're going to eat you alive out there. You'll bring the house down."

Sally had no doubt Molly was right, which only amplified her overwhelming dread.

Without another word, Molly grabbed the golden cord and swept the velvet curtain wide open. The spotlight snapped to life, illuminating Sally like a deer frozen in a truck’s high beams. The audience roared with anticipation as the first strains of the can-can music blared from the speakers, the Offenbach piece that would now haunt Sally's nightmares for the rest of her natural life.

At the head table, Tommy sat back, swirling his glass, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. He knew exactly what was coming, and judging by the eager, breathless hush settling over the crowd, ninety guests suspected something extraordinary was about to go down.

On stage, Sally began to move. Her steps were stiff and clumsy at first, but she pushed through on pure instinct. With her hands planted firmly on her hips, she launched into the high leg kicks that had been drilled into her.

As the brassy music swelled toward its signature crescendo, the crowd leaned forward almost as one, eagerly anticipating the sight of the dancer hiking her dress and shaking her bare backside at the audience.

But they were about to be treated to something far more spectacular.

Instead of simply lifting her dress to flash her backside, Sally whipped the entire garment up and over her head in one fluid, frantic motion, twirling it high above her before sending it sailing into the crowd. The dress landed squarely in the middle of Table Three, where four grown men instantly dove across the tablecloth, scrambling for it like dogs fighting over a bone.

Deafening gasps, whistles, and roars erupted as Sally stood center stage, clad only in black lace thigh-high stockings, high heels, and a towering magenta headpiece, her blush matching it perfectly. Her voluptuous figure was suddenly on full display, and the applause intensified as she pranced around the stage to the raucous beat of the can-can.

When the Offenbach piece reached its fever pitch, Sally spun around, bent low at the waist with her hands braced against her knees, and gave the audience exactly what they were screaming for: a frantic, rhythmic shake of her naked backside. The flesh quivered and bounced with each beat, sending the room into a frenzy of screams, whistles, and thunderous applause.

Humiliated and trembling, Sally didn't even wait for the final note to fade. She bolted for the stage wings, desperate for cover. But before she could vanish into the shadows, Tommy’s voice rang out, clear and commanding.

“Hold on, Sis, we need you out here!”

Sally froze in her tracks, her entire body stiffening. She buried her face in both hands, letting out a stifled sob before grudgingly turning back around. Instinctively, she crossed her left arm over her chest to cover her bare breasts and dropped her right hand to shield her sex.

"We're running low on cocktail service down here," Tommy continued, "and we're getting very thirsty. So come on down and take care of our guests."

The crowd cheered wildly in agreement.

"And please, Sally," Tommy added, "don't bother to cover up anymore. No need to be bashful. We're all friends here, and let's be honest... we've all seen everything there is to see. Isn't that right, everyone?"

A wave of laughter and clapping swept through the room.

Blushing so hard her ears felt like they were on fire, Sally slowly lowered her arms to her sides. Exposed, completely naked, and wobbling slightly on her heels, Tommy's sister descended the steps.

Molly handed her a notepad, and Sally moved from table to table, taking drink orders in the buff, her bare breasts swaying slightly with every step. Without the other seven women out there to split the crowd’s attention, she had the entire room’s undivided focus, deepening her mortification to almost unbearable levels.

She avoided eye contact completely, staring fixedly at the floor while guests shamelessly snapped photos, ordered gin and tonics, and praised her performance. From his seat at the head table, Tommy took a slow sip of his Scotch, basking in the glorious sight of his once-arrogant sister reduced to a red-faced, naked bar waitress.

* * * * *

While Sally was out on the floor enduring her bare-skinned cocktail service, Molly stepped back offstage, closed the main curtain, and popped her head into the dressing room, beckoning her next victim.

“Cindy, sweetheart,” she chirped, “would you kindly remove all of your clothes and step out here?”

A heavy silence fell over the dressing room, broken only by Cindy's panicked gasp, a sudden intake of breath that sounded almost like a wounded animal. The other seven women instinctively shrank back, pressing themselves against the far wall as if distance might somehow protect them being picked next.

Molly pretended to reconsider, tapping her chin. "On second thought," she giggled, "you don't have to take all your clothes off. Go ahead and leave your heels on. That way you won't feel so naked."

A few moments later, a thoroughly terrified Cindy appeared, blushing furiously and covering her chest tightly with both of her arms, once again demonstrating just how self-conscious she was about her undersized breasts. Through her trembling fingers, the red glow of the pasties shone brightly, flashing rhythmically and relentlessly, adding an almost comical touch to her desperate attempt at modesty.

Gasping and shivering, Cindy wobbled across the stage toward Molly, who stood in the middle of the stage behind the curtain. Two ropes dangled from the rafters, swaying ominously.

“Hold out your wrists, sweetie,” Molly instructed with mock kindness. "Don't be shy now."

Cindy hesitated, glancing around like a trapped animal searching for an escape that didn't exist. Her eyes darted to the stage doors, to the dressing room, anywhere but at those hanging ropes. Eventually, however, her shoulders slumped in resignation, and she reluctantly held out her wrists.

Molly secured them with the ropes, then stepped over to a heavy brass wall crank. With a few quick turns of the wheel, the ropes pulled taut, lifting Cindy’s arms high above her head. Though her feet remained planted on the wooden stage, the mechanical tension pulled her slim frame tight, leaving her completely exposed. In her fully extended posture, her tiny, flashing breasts appeared even flatter, giving her chest the appearance of a young boy's. She tried crossing her thighs and twisting her hips to cover herself, but the ropes held her fast.

Molly strolled back over, tilting her head to inspect the result. "So cute," she cooed. "But honestly, sweetie, I think it’d be even cuter if everyone could see your little nipples."

Before Cindy could react, Molly gently peeled the glowing pasties from her skin, smiling at the exposed, pale circles left behind.

“You’re going to bring the house down, sweetheart, when I open that curtain,” Molly taunted. “Everyone’s going to have a really nice view of those teeny-tiny titties of yours.”

She reached out and continued her torment, playfully tweaking one of Cindy's nipples between her thumb and forefinger, watching it stiffen involuntarily.

"Mmm, so sensitive," Molly purred. "The audience is going to love that."

The helpless Cindy was borderline hysterical. "Oh, please don't do this to me!" she cried, her voice rising to a wail. "Please! I'm begging you! I'll do anything else, anything at all! Just don't open that curtain!"
 
Molly pressed a finger against her own lips, pretending to weigh the plea carefully. "You know what?" she said finally. "You're absolutely right. Stringing you up completely naked in front of ninety people does seem a little harsh, doesn't it? Cruel, even. Let me go get you something to cover up."

Molly slipped into the dressing room, and to Cindy's immense relief, she returned moment later carrying a plush, bright-pink bath towel.

"Here you go, sweetie!" Molly said cheerfully, wrapping the towel around Cindy's chest and fastening it snugly at the back with a neat knot. It barely reached her mid-thigh, but it was something. It was coverage.

“There. Is that better?”

“Y-yes,” Cindy stammered, nodding rapidly through her tears. "Thank you... thank you, Molly. Can I at least—"
 
"Great!" Molly interrupted. "Now smile for your adoring fans."

Without another word, Molly gave the curtain rope a hard tug, revealing the bound, towel-wrapped girl to the entire room. The crowd let out a thunderous wave of whoops, whistles, and table-thumping.

Cindy froze, terrified that the towel might slip at any moment. She tensed every muscle, desperate to hold herself perfectly still as the crowd whooped in delight.

Her terror spiked into pure panic when she saw Tommy stepping onto the stage, twirling a long, wispy white ostrich feather between his fingers.

Oh no... not that!

Tommy grinned, holding the feather up so the guests could see it clearly. "Ring any bells, Cindy?" he asked, his voice carrying across the suddenly silent room. "Think back to the gymnasium, four years ago, when you used one of these on me. Remember that?"

He paused, enjoying Cindy's anguished expression.

"Now it's your turn," Tommy declared. "Let's find out just how ticklish you really are."

He approached slowly and deliberately, beginning by brushing the feather along her ear with the gentleness of a lover. Cindy jerked her head back, careful to keep her torso completely still. The feather danced across her nose and over to her other ear, eliciting a tiny squeal as she bit her lip to suppress the sound.

Keeping still was agonizing. Her muscles screamed with the effort, and to her dismay, she thought she felt the towel loosening slightly. She breathed a sigh of temporary relief when she confirmed that her coverage was still intact and the towel hadn’t yet betrayed her.

Tommy, though, was just getting warmed up. To his delight, it quickly became obvious that Cindy was quite ticklish, perhaps even more so than he had been. He continued tormenting her with the feather, stroking her neck and then along the top of her chest, watching her face contort with the effort of self-control. When Tommy brushed the feather across a nipple, Cindy twitched noticeably, and the crowd roared louder as they noticed the towel shift slightly.

Cindy’s facial expressions betrayed her anguish as she fought to keep from moving. Her teeth were gritted, her eyes squeezed shut. Tommy then raised the feather high above her head, starting at her raised wrist, and slowly, agonizingly dragged the soft tip downward along the inner length of her arm.

Cindy’s eyes went wide as saucers as she realized where the feather was headed, her mind screaming with the knowledge of what was coming next.

As the tip reached her inner bicep, Cindy pleaded with her tormentor.

"Please stop, Tommy!" she gasped, her voice breaking. "Please! No more! Oh God, stop! I can't hold still! I can't... oh!"

But Tommy was undeterred. As he twirled the feather just above Cindy’s armpit, it became obvious that she was fighting a losing battle. She carefully alternated lifting each leg off the ground, struggling to keep from moving her upper body, her face contorted with concentration.

The anticipation among the spectators grew.

And then, just as she clenched every muscle, just as she thought she might survive this, he struck.

The instant the tip of the feather invaded her armpit, swirling against that impossibly sensitive flesh, Cindy lost control entirely. She let out a high-pitched, hysterical shriek as her entire body erupted into violent, spastic writhing. She twitched, bucked, and kicked wildly against the ropes.

Under the sudden, chaotic strain, the towel knot instantly snapped. The pink towel unraveled and dropped to the stage floor, pooling around her high heels.

The room went absolutely wild.

Tied high by her wrists, now completely naked but for her high heels, Cindy continued her frantic gyrations, trying in vain to twist her legs and knees into some semblance of coverage. Her face was beet red, her eyes wild with disbelief and embarrassment, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

With his mission accomplished, Tommy stepped to the front of the stage, extending his arm toward his writhing, naked victim.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his voice booming, "I give you... Miss Cindy Goodwin!"

The entire room rose for a booming standing ovation. Men whistled, women laughed, and camera flashes lit up the stage. Cindy remained beneath the ropes, her arms stretched high overhead. Beet-red from humiliation, she furiously pumped her knees up and down in a useless effort to shield her exposed blonde bush from ninety staring eyes.

Tommy calmly stepped off the stage, pausing only to order a gin and tonic from his stark-naked sister as she passed by with a tray.

Molly let the audience enjoy Cindy’s bare-bodied dance of desperation for another two excruciating minutes before finally returning to the stage. After lowering the ropes and untying her victim, she handed Cindy a drink notepad.

“Well done, sweetie!” Molly said. “You were an absolute riot out there! Now scoot along down the steps and help Sally with cocktail service.”

Molly playfully slapped Cindy’s bare backside and sent the thoroughly humiliated girl on her way. Stumbling down the stage steps in her heels, Cindy joined Sally in serving drinks to the cheering tables, completely in the nude.

Back in the dressing room, the remaining six women sat huddled together, exchanging wide-eyed glances as the crowd’s roars of laughter echoed through the walls. They didn't know the exact details of what had just transpired onstage, but they knew with absolute, terrifying certainty that none of them wanted to be next.

They watched in mounting dread as the door handle slowly turned.

Molly stepped inside with a wicked, brilliant smile, ready to call out her next victim.

[Blondie]

Chapter 18: Karen on Display

“Karen, sweetie, could you step out here, please?” Molly’s cheery voice rang out.

Karen, who had been feeling relatively secure in the sanctuary of the dressing room, cringed at the sound of her name. Her shoulders sagging, she reluctantly emerged and followed Molly to the center of the stage, behind the curtain separating her from whatever humiliation awaited.

“You can go ahead and take your can-can costume off, sweetheart,” Molly cooed. “I have something else for you to wear.”

Karen let out a resigned sigh and peeled off her outfit, her cheeks reddening. This was the third time that evening she had found herself standing naked before Molly, and the familiarity did little to ease her mortification. She tightly crossed her arms over her breasts and pressed her thighs together, doing her absolute best to shield what little privacy she had left.

Molly watched her with undisguised delight, basking in her victim’s embarrassment.

Aren’t we the bashful one?” Molly teased, giving her a sly wink. “You know, Tommy told me all about that day in the gymnasium. Remember that, Karen? When you made him count down out loud while you sat there with your hands on his underpants, then pulled them down in front of the whole class? My, how the tables have turned

"Please, Molly," Karen pleaded. "I never meant to—"

"Shh," Molly interrupted, pressing a finger to her own lips. "We're not doing apologies tonight, sweetie. We're doing consequences. Just imagine how you'd feel if I opened this curtain right now and put you on display for all ninety of our guests. Just... whoosh! Naked Karen on stage. Should I do that?"

“Please, no!” Karen blurted, clutching herself tighter and taking an anxious step backward. "Don't do it! Please!"

“Okay, okay,” Molly laughed. “You win. Just to show you what a generous hostess I am, I’ll let you cover up. With this.”

From behind her back, Molly produced a little bundle of silky black fabric. “Here, let me help you into this.”

Molly stepped forward and wrapped the smooth cloth tightly around Karen’s chest, fastening it behind her back with a strip of heavy-duty Velcro. The makeshift strapless dress hung just above her knees, a flimsy barrier against total exposure. Karen felt somewhat uneasy; the fabric was far too short and thin, but she was grateful nonetheless. Anything to hide her nakedness.

Her cautious relief, however, was short-lived.

Karen’s eyes went wide as Molly reached up and yanked down a length of rope from the rigging above.

“Hold out your wrists, sweetie,” Molly instructed cheerfully, revealing a pair of cushioned cuffs attached to the rope's end.

“Wait... what’s going on here?” Karen stammered, but even as she spoke, she knew it was too late. The padded cuffs snapped around her wrists with a metallic click. Molly stepped over to the edge of the stage and gave the pulley a few firm cranks. Karen gasped as the sudden tension yanked her arms high above her head. She was left standing helplessly on her tiptoes, her frame stretched taut. The movement caused the strapless fabric to tug upward, threatening to slip, and she had to fight the urge to hyperventilate.

Before Karen could utter another word of protest, Molly yanked the curtain rope. The curtain whooshed open, and the packed room burst into raucous applause.

Karen blinked through the sudden glare of the stage spotlights. To her left on the main floor, Sally was parading around in nothing but high heels, thigh-high stockings, and a glittering headband, balancing a tray of drinks. Across the room was poor Cindy, teetering in high heels and absolutely nothing else, serving cocktails with beet-red cheeks and downcast eyes.

A cold wave of dread washed over Karen as she caught sight of Tommy ascending the stage steps. Her dread quickly turned to absolute terror.

To Tommy, the evening was unfolding like a perfectly orchestrated symphony. He had all his former tormentors right where he wanted them, and Karen had been one of the absolute ringleaders. He was savoring the opportunity to continue her humiliation. He recalled with perfect clarity how she had forced him to count out loud before pulling his underpants down in the gymnasium four years ago, her mocking voice echoing as the crowd laughed at his shame.

Tommy licked his lips in anticipation as he approached his helpless target. The room fell silent as ninety pairs of eyes locked onto the stage.

"Well, well, well," Tommy drawled, his booming voice carrying easily to the back of the room. "What do we have here?"

He began to slowly circle his captive like a shark. “All dressed up and nowhere to go.”

He paused directly behind her, leaning in close enough for her to feel his warm breath against the nape of her neck. Casually, he lifted the hem at the back of her makeshift dress, taking a long peek underneath before letting out a low, appreciative whistle.

“And just think... you’re only one strip of Velcro away from exposing all your charms to everyone out there." He leaned closer, whispering in her ear. "What have you gotten yourself into, Karen darling?"

Tommy grinned as he stepped back out front, drinking in every tremor, every goosebump, and every flush of color spreading across her skin.

Karen clenched her fists tightly inside the overhead cuffs, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, Tommy. I’m begging you. Please don’t.”

"Don't what?" Tommy asked, tilting his head with feigned confusion. “Tell me what you don’t want me to do, Karen. Be specific. Use your words. You were so good with words when you were running your mouth in the gymnasium that day.”

Karen swallowed hard, her throat tight with desperation. “Please don’t take this off me. Please, Tommy. I'll do anything else... just don't—”

"And what will happen if I do?" Tommy interrupted, his smirk widening. He was savoring every delicious second, deliberately stretching her panic to its limit.

When Karen didn't answer, Tommy stepped behind her again and reached for the closure at her back. His fingers found the top tab of the Velcro, teasingly lifting and pressing it down with a sharp, ominous rip... scritch... rip.

"Tell me, Karen," he whispered softly into her ear. "What happens if I pull this off right now?"

“I’ll... I’ll be naked,” Karen whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as if closing them could somehow change what was coming.

The audience erupted in cheers and catcalls, their reaction only encouraging Tommy. He turned to address the crowd with sweeping, theatrical gestures.

“Well, Karen, it seems we have a very enthusiastic audience out there who would love to see exactly that!" He spun back to face her. "So, let’s make a game of it. Here’s how this works: You are going to count to three for us, slowly and dramatically. Just like you made me do in front of the whole gym. Like this: ONE... TWO... AND... THREE!' And on three... RIP! Off it comes. And you'll be naked!"

Karen sobbed softly, squirming against her overhead restraints. She was trembling uncontrollably now, her entire body shaking under the pressure.

Tommy took his place behind her, gripping the top edge of the Velcro with one hand while resting his other hand lightly on her hip.

“Whenever you're ready,” he prompted cheerfully.

Karen’s lower lip quivered. “Please, don’t do this,” she whispered, her voice cracking. "Tommy, please... I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry for what I did! Please don't..."

Tommy had fully anticipated her hesitation. In fact, he had counted on it.

"Molly," he called out, "hand me the scissors, would you please?"

Without missing a beat, Molly strolled over from the wings and handed him a heavy pair of shears.

Karen's eyes widened in horror.

“Let’s try a little incentive,” Tommy said casually, testing the blades with a sharp snip-snip. "Something to help you find your motivation."

Reaching up with his free hand, Tommy grabbed her thick ponytail. "You've always had such lovely hair, Karen. So thick. So shiny... so pullable."

“NO! PLEASE! NO!” Karen shrieked, feverishly twisting her torso against the overhead ropes.

Her frantic pleas went unheeded. With a decisive SNIP, Tommy cut off a four-inch chunk of her ponytail. He stepped back into her line of sight, holding up the severed lock of hair and letting it dangle tauntingly from his fingers before tossing it onto the stage floor.

“Consider that a gentle warning,” Tommy said. “Next time, I cut it right down to the scalp. Now, you’ve got ninety fans out there,” he added, gesturing out toward the roaring room, “and every single one of them is dying to see your lovely body in all its glory. So I’d suggest you start counting.”

Tommy stepped back behind her and firmly gripped the Velcro once more. He could hear her whimpering faintly.

“Now then, let’s try this one more time,” Tommy instructed. "Take two, and for your sake, sweetie, you better hope it’s the final take. Begin the countdown, nice and slow. Make sure the folks in the back row hear every single word.”

Karen stood frozen in place, her arms stretched taut above her head, her heart pounding. With a chunk of her hair already snipped away and lying on the floorboards, she knew resistance was completely futile. Through her tears, she caught sight of Sally and Cindy on the main floor, red-faced, completely bare, and carrying drink trays through the tables.

Nakedness, it seemed, was inevitable. It was going to happen now, or it was going to happen in some far crueler fashion moments from now.

The thought of what "crueler" might mean made her stomach twist into knots.

And so, trembling from head to toe, Karen took a shuddering breath and began.

“WUUUUUUUUUUN...” she drawled, her voice wavering before settling into a loud, miserable groan. The audience tittered in delight, guests leaning forward in their seats with wide, expectant grins.

“TWOOOOOOOOOO...” she squeaked. Her panic spiked as she felt the strain on her back, fully expecting the fabric to be ripped away at any second. The room fell completely silent, ninety guests holding their breath for the grand reveal.

“AAAAAAAAAAAND...”

She braced herself. She squeezed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth, and prepared for the cool rush of air on her skin, followed by the deafening roar of laughter and applause.

But then, something strange happened.

The tension behind her suddenly vanished. The subtle tug on her dress loosened completely.

Puzzled, Karen opened her eyes and glanced to her left. Tommy had stepped several feet away from her, strolling toward the front edge of the stage with his hands casually clasped behind his back. She turned to her right. Molly was standing near the wings, her arms crossed, calmly watching from the shadows.

No one was standing behind her. No one was touching her dress.

A moment of confused relief washed over her. Had Tommy changed his mind? Was he showing mercy? Had her willing compliance during her own humiliation somehow earned her a reprieve?

Suspended between fragile hope and sheer terror, Karen finished the count anyway, just to be safe.

“... THREE!”

From the edge of the stage, Tommy offered a slow, wicked grin. Unbeknownst to Karen, he hadn't paused out of pity. He had paused out of sudden inspiration. Throughout the evening, he had resisted the temptation to use his supernatural abilities, finding that the mere threat of his powers was more than enough to keep his targets in line. But at that moment, he flashed back on his memorable encounter with his mentor, the one who had taught him everything. It was time for a grand gesture.

“This one’s for you, Owen,” he whispered to himself, allowing himself a brief moment of fond remembrance.

Turning back toward the trembling, cloth-bound Karen, Tommy gave a subtle nod of his head.

With a loud, magical RIPPPPPP!, the Velcro seam behind her back snapped open on its own.

The black makeshift dress shot clean off her body, sailing gracefully high through the air before fluttering down onto a front-row table.

Karen was left standing beneath the stage lights, completely naked, bound by the wrists, and totally defenseless. Her mouth fell open in silent, paralyzed shock. It took a full second for her brain to register her bare skin before the brutal reality crashed down on her.

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” she shrieked, her voice cracking into high-pitched, frantic wails.

She twisted her torso violently from side to side, pumping her knees up in an attempt to cover herself, ducking her head, doing anything to shield her bare body from the ninety pairs of eyes drinking in every inch of her degradation.

The room exploded into a deafening wave of cheers, whistles, and thunderous applause. Guests rose to their feet, roaring with laughter at the magic trick and her desperate, wild twisting.

Tommy soaked in the moment with deep satisfaction, savoring the raw, wild panic in her eyes. After letting the crowd enjoy the sight for a few moments, he raised a single finger and gestured toward the wings.

Molly stepped forward with a mischievous grin, grabbed the handle of the wall winch, and began cranking the gears with obvious relish.

Just when Karen thought her humiliation had reached its absolute peak, the ropes pulled taut, yanking her wrists upward with sudden, irresistible force. A startled gasp escaped her lips as her feet left the stage floor entirely. Within seconds, she was suspended a full three feet in midair, dangling helplessly over the stage.

Desperate to relieve the agonizing pull on her wrists, Karen reached up and gripped the taut rope above her cuffs, clinging to it for dear life. But any lingering hope of maintaining a shred of dignity vanished. Suspended in midair, her body spun slowly in a circle, exposing every angle of her bare frame to the cheering crowd. She tried bending her knees into her chest to cover her exposed sex, but within seconds, the strain in her thighs forced her to drop her legs back down, completely exposing herself once again.

Tommy, watching the aerial display with pure delight, decided to add a little theatrical flair to the proceedings.

“All right, sweetheart!” he called out, stepping closer. “Let's make this fun! I want you to pretend you’re riding a bicycle! Pedal those legs! Fast!”

He turned and shouted toward his friend manning the lights and music. “Joey! Give us a soundtrack! Something with some energy!”

Joey flashed a quick thumbs-up from behind the mixing board. Within seconds, the frenetic, driving rhythm and wild yodeling of Hocus Pocus by Focus blasted through the venue's massive speakers.

Here’s a snippet of what it sounded like: Hocus Pocus

“Go, Karen, go!” Tommy shouted gleefully, clapping his hands to the high-tempo beat. “Ride that bicycle!”

Utterly mortified, Karen sobbed as the driving tempo picked up and the entire audience began clapping along in enthusiastic rhythm. Her face flushed deep crimson as she reluctantly began pedaling in midair, her bare legs pumping back and forth to the infectious beat against her will. The crowd went wild, howling with laughter and catcalling at the surreal sight of a completely naked, airborne woman pedaling an imaginary bicycle high above the stage.

And Tommy wasn't done yet.

Grinning wickedly, he stepped under her suspended frame and caught one of her flailing ankles. With a sudden, firm yank, he pulled her backward through the air, stretching her body as far as the rope would allow.

“Hang on tight!” he taunted.

He let go. Karen swung wildly across the stage like a pendulum, her legs thrashing in the air as the forced pedaling became even more chaotic. Momentum carried her back and forth through the air, her hair flying wildly.

"Wheee!" Tommy laughed, throwing his head back. "Look at her go!"

Throughout the insane aerial stunt, Karen did everything in her power to keep her thighs clamped together as tightly as she could, desperate to salvage a tiny shred of privacy. That fierce determination didn't escape Tommy’s notice, and he had one final indignity left for her.

Slipping offstage for a brief moment, Tommy returned carrying a massive, multicolored beach ball that looked almost comically oversized in his arms. The audience stirred with curiosity, their laughter rising anew as Tommy set the enormous prop down at center stage.

"You're being awfully shy up there, Karen," Tommy called out over the music. "Let's see if we can't help you open up a bit more."

He motioned to Molly, who joined him with a wicked smirk, clearly prepared for the next act in their orchestrated show. As the bewildered and increasingly panicked Karen looked on, Tommy grabbed her right ankle while Molly seized her left. In one fluid motion, they pulled her legs far apart, turning her into a human wishbone that left her completely exposed.

“NO! OH GOD, PLEASE NO!” Karen shrieked, her voice breaking into hysterical sobs.

Undeterred, Tommy scooped up the oversized beach ball. "Molly, if you would?"

"With pleasure!" Molly chimed in.

Together, they shoved the giant beach ball firmly between Karen's knees, wedging it tightly into place so her legs were pinned wide apart. Her lower body was forced into a wide, helpless spread, completely exposing her private parts to every single table in the room.

Karen, horrified at this newly sprung degradation, writhed, twisted, and jerked her hips in frantic, futile attempts to dislodge the ball, but the wedge held firm.

The hall erupted in absolute bedlam. Guests doubled over with laughter, some applauding wildly, others pounded their tables, tears of laughter streaming down their faces. It was a bizarre, hilarious, and unforgettable spectacle.

Thoroughly satisfied with his masterpiece, Tommy gave Karen one last, lingering, triumphant look before stepping off the stage and returning to his head table.

Molly turned the winch handle, lowering the suspended rope inch by inch until Karen's toes barely brushed the stage floor. Still completely naked, her wrists bound overhead, and the massive beach ball wedged tightly between her spread knees, she was left stranded at center stage. Molly left the main curtains wide open, ensuring the entire room could enjoy the spectacle for the rest of the night.

As the music faded down and regular party chatter resumed, Tommy leaned back in his chair just as Cindy passed by his table carrying a fresh tray of champagne. Reaching out, Tommy smoothly lifted a full flute from her tray and grabbed her wrist. As she turned to walk away, he delivered a swift, playful smack to her naked backside.

"Eep!" Cindy gasped, a dark blush spreading down her neck as she hurried off toward the bar.

“Cheers, everyone,” Tommy declared, raising his glass high to his friends around the table. His companions grinned and raised their glasses, clinking them together in celebration.

"To Tommy," one of his buddies toasted, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. "The ultimate master of ceremonies."

"May every party we go to be half as unforgettable as this one," another added with a laugh.

Sipping his cold champagne, Tommy let his eyes wander back to the stage. Karen was still twisting helplessly on her tiptoes, her face buried against her arm, her humiliation on full display. A slow, deeply satisfied smile spread across Tommy's face.

He took another sip. The night was still young, and he had plenty more performances left to stage.

[Blondie]

Chapter 19: The Denuded Danny (ENM)

As Tommy sipped his chilled champagne, he leisurely surveyed the room. His sister Sally was hustling around serving cocktails, clad only in black thigh-high stockings and high heels, her breasts swaying as she balanced a tray. Cindy was also serving cocktails, naked but for her stilettos, her cheeks flushed with the shame of total exposure.

Center stage, all eyes remained on Karen. Bound and completely exposed, her arms were stretched taut above her head. She grunted softly, twisting in a futile effort to dislodge the oversized beach ball wedged firmly between her thighs for the guests' amusement.

Backstage in the dressing room, a tense quiet hung in the air. Linda, Nancy, Carlene, Miss Richards, and Sister Ruth huddled together in their can-can costumes, exchanging nervous glances as they wondered what humiliation awaited them next.

Michael worked double duty, darting between the tables and the bar, his cheeks burning beneath the frilly French maid costume Molly had gleefully forced him into for the evening.

Behind the bar stood Danny, still dressed in black slacks, a white shirt, and a tie. Tommy had given him special instructions earlier: to shave every hair off his body from the neck down. That secret humiliation remained between them.

Until it didn't.

Danny had been a bundle of nerves all evening. Before getting dressed for his bartending duty, he had spent the better part of an hour in his bathroom, shaving his body completely hairless and watching his masculinity disappear down the drain. As he stood behind the bar, he shuddered, recalling the sight of himself in the full-length mirror when he stepped out of the shower. He could hardly bear to look, but look he did, turning slowly and examining himself front and back. Sure enough, he was hairless as the day he was born. He had actually turned red from embarrassment, despite the fact that he was all alone at the time.

His anxiety increased as he imagined how humiliating it would be if anybody saw him in that “nuder-than-nude” state. The sensation of fabric against his smooth skin was a constant reminder of his vulnerability. Every shift of his shirt and every brush of his slacks brought a fresh wave of discomfort, reinforcing just how exposed he truly was beneath his clothes.

He took some solace in the fact that Tommy’s attention seemed mostly fixed on the women so far. Maybe the shaving was the extent of his punishment. Embarrassing, to be sure, but at least, he hoped, no one else would know.

He was mixing a scotch and soda when that sense of hope turned into despair. He tensed as he spotted Tommy sauntering directly toward him. His anxiety intensified when Tommy looked him in the eye and spoke the fateful words: “Hey, Danny, Molly wants to see you in the dressing room.”

Danny’s blood drained from his face. He felt suddenly cold, then hot, then cold again. He opened his mouth to protest, or at least to beg for mercy, but Tommy was already walking away.

“Oh God,” Danny muttered. He looked at Michael, who responded with a sympathetic look and a shrug of his shoulders, a gesture that said what can we do? Deep down, though, Michael was somewhat relieved that he wouldn’t be the only male to be shamed that night.

Danny, heart pounding, forced himself up the small flight of steps toward the back. He couldn’t help but glance at Karen, naked and displayed on the stage, and his dread deepened. He knocked softly on the dressing room door, his knuckles barely making contact with the wood. Molly opened it with a radiant smile.

"Hello, Danny. I've been expecting you. Come on in."

(Side note for the reader: Tommy had kept one crucial detail of the evening's plans to himself, saving the reveal of Danny's smooth state as a surprise even to her.)

Danny stepped across the threshold. Inside the dressing room sat Linda, Nancy, Carlene, Miss Richards, and Sister Ruth, all still in their ruffled can-can dresses, and looking as uncomfortable as Danny felt.

"For those of you that haven't met our guest," Molly said, pressing a hand firmly against Danny’s back to usher him into the center of the room, “this is Danny. He’s been helping Tommy behind the bar all evening. Haven’t you, Danny?”

"I... yes. Yes, I have," Danny managed, his voice cracking slightly.

"And now," Molly continued, a slow smile spreading across her face, "he's going to help us with something much more... entertaining." She stepped directly into his space and reached for his tie. "Let me help you get a little more comfortable, Danny."

"Wait, I don't—" Danny began, but Molly was already working.

"Shh," she soothed. "Just relax. This will be fun. You'll see."

Danny swallowed hard, paralyzed as Molly deftly loosened the knot. She slipped the silk strip from his collar, letting it dangle from her fingers for a moment before casually tossing it onto a nearby chair. Without missing a beat, her fingers moved to his top button, undoing them one by one as she deliberately took her time.

“Oh, no undershirt?” she mused. “How thoughtful of you. That’ll make this much easier.”

Danny shifted uncomfortably as she tugged the shirt tail from his waistband, her cool fingertips brushing his flat stomach. He could feel the collective gaze of the five women, who had taken a keen interest in his predicament.

Molly kept talking as she casually slipped Danny’s shirt off, taking pleasure in the deepening flush in his cheeks. “Tommy and I do appreciate you dressing up to tend bar,” she said, grinning, “but we thought the ladies might welcome some entertainment from one of our handsome young men.”

"En-entertainment?" Danny stammered, apprehension written all over his face. “What... what kind of entertainment?”

"You'll find out soon enough," Molly said, running a palm across his bare shoulder. "Now, let's see what we're working with."

She ran her hand in slow, deliberate circles across his chest, clearly enjoying herself. Her hand paused, her eyes widening slightly as she felt the completely smooth skin.

A mischievous grin broke across her face as she glanced over her shoulder at the dressing room audience. “My, my. It looks like we’ve got ourselves a real smoothie, don’t we?”

Danny turned crimson, staring fixedly at the floor.

Molly’s hands moved down to his belt buckle. “Linda, Nancy, would you two be kind enough to help Danny out of his shoes and socks?”

The two girls exchanged a brief glance before moving forward, eager for any distraction that shifted the room's focus away from them. Within moments, Danny's footwear was removed, leaving him standing barefoot on the cool floor.

“Now, Danny, thank the ladies for being so helpful,” Molly prompted playfully.

“Thanks,” he muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

Molly was about to chastise him, but she was far too focused on her next step. She unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his slacks, and slowly drew the zipper down. Glancing up, she caught the trembling of his lower lip.

"Nervous?" she asked.

"Please," Danny whispered. "Please, I don't—"

"Shh," Molly cut him off, resting a single finger against his lips. "No talking. Just... experiencing."

Smiling, she knelt down and slid his slacks down past his knees to his ankles, her fingers grazing his smooth calves. She was fascinated by her discovery, her eyes widening as comprehension dawned.

“Oh, my goodness... look at this!” Molly gasped, caressing his bare shins in disbelief. “Danny, your legs are adorable. What did you do, wax them this morning?” She glided her fingers up toward his knee. "They're like silk. Absolutely like silk."

Danny closed his eyes in sheer mortification as the five women leaned forward, staring in stunned silence at his entirely hairless legs.

Molly paused, a wave of delighted comprehension washing over her face as Tommy’s entire scheme clicked into place.

"Go like this," Molly instructed, clasping her hands behind her head with her elbows flared wide, demonstrating the pose.

Danny winced, his face burning as he slowly raised his arms to copy her, exposing his completely hairless underarms to the entire room. Molly stepped back, letting out a bright, incredulous laugh.

"Oh, this is too precious!" she beamed, pulling out her cell phone. "Say 'cheese'!"

The shutter clicked. She instantly texted the photo to Tommy for his enjoyment. She could almost hear his laughter from the main floor.

Molly removed his pants completely and tossed them aside, where they landed in a heap. She turned to the five onlookers, who were all grinning now, their own anxieties momentarily forgotten as they watched someone else suffer.

“Well," she said, drawing out the word, "should we continue, girls, and see if he's this smooth everywhere?"

The women all nodded with enthusiasm, leaning forward.

That’s when inspiration struck Molly. What could be more fitting than having Sister Ruth remove Danny’s underpants, as she had done to Tommy years ago? The full-circle symmetry was delicious

“Sister Ruth,” Molly said, stepping aside. “Would you do the honors?”

The nun's eyes lit up. In an instant, her own fearful plight vanished from her mind. Stepping into the center of the room with an eager smile, she slipped back into the authoritative persona she had enjoyed so much in years past.

“Danny,” Sister Ruth said, her voice taking on an authoritative tone. “I am going to do you the honor of helping you out of those little underpants. But I want you to ask my permission first. Call me by my name. And don’t even think about covering up your little wee-wee when I take them down.”

The room fell deathly quiet. Linda, Nancy, Carlene, and Miss Richards watched wide-eyed, equal parts eager for the reveal and stunned by Sister Ruth’s rapid transformation from a hopeless victim to a sadistic tormentor.

Sister Ruth stared at her unfortunate victim and waited. Danny stood frozen, his pulse pounding. He swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he forced the words out.

"Sister Ruth..." He paused, his breath hitching. "Sister Ruth... would you... would you please pull down my underpants?"

Sister Ruth beamed. “Why, certainly, Danny, I’d love to pull down your undies for you. And since you asked so politely, I’ll take them all the way off for you." She paused, smiling. "Then you'll be naked.”

She knelt in front of him, looking up into his miserable, flushed face. “Here we go. Are you ready?”

Without waiting for a response, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his BVDs. She began to pull them down slowly, counting aloud, her voice taking on the rhythm of a nursery rhyme.

“One...”

Danny’s breath hitched, his chest heaving as the cool air hit his exposed hips.

“Twooooo...”

He was hyperventilating now, his eyes clamped shut as his underpants inched farther down.

“Aaaaaaaand... THREE!”

In one swift motion, Sister Ruth yanked his briefs down to his ankles, leaving him utterly exposed.

Danny gasped, though any sound he made was drowned out by the shrieks of laughter filling the room.

He was completely smooth from neck to toe. Though he had recently turned eighteen, he looked more like a boy than a man, his body hairless, pink, and vulnerable. And much to the amusement of the women in the room, his embarrassment was on full display. What little manhood he had seemed to shrink even further under their amused gazes, retreating as if trying to hide from their delighted scrutiny.

Danny stood frozen, eyes squeezed shut, as the full force of his humiliation washed over him. It was an excruciating moment he could do nothing but endure.

“Oh my God, he looks like he’s eleven!” Molly exclaimed.

She grinned, realizing that was exactly what Tommy had intended. He had known how Danny would stand here looking like a prepubescent boy while everyone laughed at his expense, just as Tommy had once done. The thought sent a thrill through her.

Sister Ruth, still kneeling before him, slipped Danny's underpants over his feet and tossed them onto the heap with his slacks. She looked up at him with a teasing, almost cruel grin, her earlier sternness turning into playful mockery.

"Open your eyes and look at me, young man," she commanded. "Look at your Sister Ruth.”

Danny’s eyes snapped open, glistening with unshed tears as he looked down at her.

“You must feel absolutely humiliated right now,” she said.

It wasn't a question, but Danny felt compelled to answer, to say something. "I... I..." His voice cracked, failing him entirely.

Sister Ruth was relentless. "Tell me, Danny,” she pressed. “Tell me how it feels to stand there, naked as the day you were born, smooth as a little boy, while five women stare at your... diminished condition."

"Please," he managed. "Please, Sister, I—"

"Please what? Please make them look away? I don't think so. Look at them. They're absolutely riveted.”

She stepped back to join the others, leaving him isolated in the center of the room, naked, trembling, and speechless.

Molly clapped her hands together, the sharp noise breaking the spell. “All right, girls, enough entertainment for now. We’ve got a show to run.”

She turned to Danny, her eyes sweeping over his hairless form with obvious amusement. "Danny, I want you on that stage. Are you ready, little boy?"

Danny’s eyes widened in sheer panic. "The... the stage? Please, I can't..."

"Can't?" Molly raised an eyebrow. "Oh, sweetie. You can. You absolutely can. And you will. Because the alternative?"

She leaned close.

"Because the alternative is me telling Tommy you refused. And Tommy? He has such creative ways of dealing with reluctance."

The protest died in Danny's throat as the reality of her threat set in. He stood there trembling, overwhelmed with dread.

“When you get out there, sweetie,” Molly continued, her voice resuming its bright, instructional tone, “you don’t even have to do anything. Isn’t that generous? You just stand there. There’s a strip of black tape on the stage, just to Karen’s right. That’s where I want you to stand. Face your admirers, arms up, hands holding your elbows, just like Tommy had to do. Feet apart. That’s it!” She demonstrated the pose. “Simple as can be. Now get out there and knock ’em dead!”

Molly crossed to the door and swung it open, then turned back to him expectantly. Danny stood motionless for a moment, unable to make his legs move.

“You’ll do great, sweetie,” Molly cooed. "Just think of it as... a coming-out party."

She moved behind him, resting her hands on his bare shoulders and steering him toward the open door.

"One step at a time," she cooed softly. "That's it. Good boy."

Then, with a playful swat to his backside, she ushered him through the doorway. Molly watched with pure delight as the denuded Danny shuffled onto the stage, his posture hunched and his movements stiff and awkward. His eyes remained locked on the floor as he searched for the tape marker, the back of his neck burning a vivid red.

When the spotlight landed on Danny, heads turned. A beat of stunned silence followed, and then the room erupted.

Laughter rolled through the crowd like thunder. The female guests especially reveled in the moment, clapping, cheering, elbowing one another, and pointing at him with wide, amused grins. Some even reached for their phones to capture the image of the naked, hairless boy-man displayed before them.

Across the room, Molly caught Tommy’s eye. They exchanged a silent, knowing grin, two architects of humiliation admiring the result.

She gave a little bow before heading back toward the dressing room to fetch her next victims.

[Blondie]

Chapter 20: Truth or Consequences

The five women remaining in the dressing room were still giggling over Danny's humiliation when Molly reappeared in the doorway. Her sudden appearance had a sobering effect, and the laughter died in their throats. True to form, Molly brought them back to reality.

"All right, girls, listen up," Molly said, her tone authoritative. “Linda, Nancy, and Carlene, come with me. And Carlene, I’d like you to lose the dress, the stockings, and the heels. Strip down and slip back into your volleyball uniform. No shoes this time, just the top and shorts."

She reached behind her and produced a volleyball, tossing it underhand. Carlene caught it reflexively, her expression a mix of shock and confusion.

"Bring that with you," Molly added.

Under the watchful eyes of the others, a bewildered Carlene grudgingly stripped off her costume and pulled on the athletic clothes.

“Linda, Nancy,” Molly continued, “you two can take off your stockings and put your heels back on. You’ll be heading out in your can-can dresses, with nothing underneath." She paused, letting the reality sink in before letting out a soft laugh. "Too bad you tossed your panties into the crowd earlier. I'm afraid that ship has sailed."

The two girls exchanged a sheepish glance, their cheeks flushing with the memory of their enforced striptease. Reluctantly, they removed their stockings and stepped back into their heels.

Now partially redressed, the trio was ushered out of the dressing room and toward the stage.

As they approached, the scene before them painted a clear picture of the debauchery awaiting them. Karen was tied up completely naked, a beach ball wedged firmly between her knees. Danny stood beneath the spotlight, equally naked and completely hairless, his hands clasped over his head in total submission. Meanwhile, Sally and Cindy moved through the crowd of ninety guests serving drinks, wearing nothing but their heels.

All eyes swiveled toward the stage as the new arrivals entered. A fresh wave of anticipation swept through the crowd, for it appeared that a new scene was about to unfold.

Molly guided Carlene to a spot beside the helpless Karen. “You’ll stay right here,” she instructed. The scantily clad Carlene stood anxiously, clutching the volleyball to her side as her gaze darted between the naked, bound girl beside her and the leering crowd.

Next, Molly led Linda and Nancy onto a low white platform raised a foot off the stage floor. Its surface was dotted with several small circular air vents, and the women felt cool air whispering against their bare legs as they stepped aboard. Wobbling slightly in their heels, they faced the enraptured audience with growing trepidation.

Molly produced two pairs of handcuffs. With the first, she secured Linda’s right wrist to Nancy’s left in front of them. With the second, she pulled Linda’s left wrist behind her back and cuffed it to Nancy’s right wrist behind hers. Bound back-to-front, the two were thoroughly secured as the party guests looked on in curious excitement, some already raising phones to capture the moment.

With her setup complete, Molly stepped back to the wings, allowing Tommy to step up from the front table.

"Folks, we're going to play a little game," Tommy announced, his voice projecting clearly across the venue. "Let's call it 'Truth or Consequences.' I’ll be quizzing Linda and Nancy, our lovely contestants here. They’ll have thirty seconds to answer each question. They can consult each other, whisper back and forth, strategize however they like. But if they get the question wrong..." He paused, grinning devilishly. "Well, they'll pay the consequences."

He turned his gaze to Carlene, who stiffened under his look. "If they get it right, however, Carlene removes an article of clothing of her choice. And as a bonus, Karen and Danny will perform a little naked dance for our entertainment.”

The fivesome collectively slumped their shoulders and dropped their heads, no doubt aware of the humiliation that was about to come their way. Danny’s face paled, while Karen strained against her bonds with renewed desperation.

“Danny,” Tommy added, “if you could kindly remove the beach ball from Karen’s legs, please. Then resume your position.”

Danny obeyed, crouching awkwardly to pry the ball from between Karen’s thighs before returning to his mark. Though still bound by her wrists overhead, Karen would now have the freedom to dance, if necessary.

Tommy clapped his hands together. “Let’s begin! First question: Who was the first president of the United States?”

While Carlene, Danny, and Karen wore expressions of pure angst, Linda and Nancy blurted out the answer in unison: “George Washington!”

“Correct!" Tommy declared. You are smarter than I thought." He gestured toward the rest of the stage. "You know the rules. Karen and Danny, we'll start with you."

Upbeat music blasted from the speakers, and the two naked unfortunates reluctantly began to move, shuffling their feet in something vaguely resembling a dance. The crowd erupted into laughter, especially as the spotlight zeroed in on the bouncing, hairless genitals of the thoroughly humiliated Danny. Karen, restricted by her bound wrists, swayed her hips from side to side, creating a salacious scene that the audience drank in.

The song faded out after about two minutes, and the two red-faced participants were mercifully allowed to stop dancing.

But Danny’s ordeal wasn’t over. During his performance, he had lowered his hands from his head to cover himself when the spotlight focused on him for the final time. The maneuver was not lost on Molly, who had stepped forward from her position at the side of the stage.

“Danny!” she yelled, feigning agitation with her hands on her hips. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your hands on your head? What part of that was unclear?”

Danny, now completely unnerved to be the center of attention once again, stammered, "S-sorry. I didn't mean to. I just—"

“Well, 'sorry' isn't going to cut it.” Molly was relishing her role. She dragged a sturdy wooden chair to the center of the stage and sat down. With the crook of her index finger, she motioned to the beleaguered Danny. “Come here, little boy.”

Danny, now with a pitiful look of distress on his face, made the naked walk of shame across the stage, stopping before her with his eyes glued to the floor, his frame trembling slightly.

“Little boys who misbehave need to be punished,” Molly said sternly, her voice carrying over the quieted room. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

His blush deepened. "I-I'm sorry; it won't happen again. I promise."

The audience tittered.

"Do you see any reason why I shouldn't take you over my knee right now and spank your little bottom?" Molly asked.

The crowd burst into full laughter. Danny, who wasn’t laughing, remained speechless, staring at his feet.

“I thought not,” Molly said.

To the delight of the audience, none more so than Tommy, who clearly hadn’t expected this unscripted display from his girlfriend, Molly rose to her feet, took hold of Danny’s right elbow, and, in one fluid motion, sat back down and pulled him across her lap. His feet dangled nearly a foot above the floor, his bare, vulnerable backside now fully presented to the captivated room.

Molly proceeded to spank Danny’s hindquarters, her palm striking with a steady, authoritative rhythm. The sound of palm against flesh echoed through the room. What began as a quick reprimand fast became a spectacle of dominance. Feeding on the cheers and hooting from the crowd, Molly increased both the speed and force of her slaps until a quiet whimper escaped her wretched victim.

She paused, admiring her work. Danny's skin had turned a deep, radiant crimson that practically glowed under the stage lights. Satisfied, she pulled him to his feet, leaving him wobbly, red-faced, and utterly humiliated.

“That’ll be all,” she declared, sending him on his way with one final, stinging slap to his thoroughly chastised rear end, the sound echoing like a gunshot.

Danny, his face now crimson, waddled back to his mark on the far side of the stage, smarting far more from the burn of public humiliation than the physical sting.

Tommy had to wait a fair amount of time for the noise to subside.

“Okay, let’s see, where were we?” he asked, wiping a tear of amusement from his eye. “By the way, thank you, Molly. That was quite entertaining. A wonderful addition to the evening's festivities."

Molly blew a playful kiss to her boyfriend from the wings before stepping back into position.

"Now, let's get on with question number two," Tommy continued, pulling a index card from his pocket.

Tommy was fully aware that another consequence still loomed. He stole a glance at Carlene, savoring the momentary relief written across her face. But, of course, her reprieve would be short-lived.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Carlene, you have an important decision to make," Tommy said. "Which article of clothing would you like to part with? The top or the shorts? Choose wisely."

Carlene’s face fell. "Please, Tommy, I... I can't. Please, there must be something else—"

"Why don't you surprise us," he cut in. "And give us your sexiest striptease dance while you take it off and twirl it to your audience. You can set the volleyball down during your performance."

Tommy signaled to his friend at the sound board. The iconic, brassy rhythm of David Rose’s The Stripper blared through the speakers, filling the room with its suggestive beat.

Carlene froze for a moment. With ninety pairs of eyes locked onto her, she slowly set the volleyball at her feet. As the audience cheered, she forced her hips into a hesitant rhythm, her hands trembling as they reached for the hem of her sports bra.

Slowly, she slid one strap down, then the other. For a agonizing second, she held the fabric tight against her chest before pulling it over her head. She gave the bra a half-hearted spin and tossed it toward the crowd, where a guest caught it midair to loud applause.

Carlene instantly crossed her arms over her bare chest. A deep, burning flush spread from her cheeks down to her neck. She stood frozen, dazed and defenseless, like someone caught in a nightmare where they'd shown up to school naked, only this wasn’t a dream. This was real, achingly real, and every eye in the room was on her.

Tommy watched from his table, grinning ear to ear as Carlene squirmed beneath the lights. He toyed with the idea of ordering her to drop her arms, but decided to hold back for now. Her total exposure was only a matter of time. He gestured to the sound booth, cutting the music abruptly.

"Thank you, Carlene," Tommy said. “That was... thoroughly entertaining! And with a little luck, maybe that’s as far as you’ll have to go.” He let the false hope linger for a moment before turning back to the platform. "Now, back to the game. Here you go, girls, question number two: Who won baseball's World Series in 2019?"

Linda and Nancy exchanged panicked looks. Sports was not their strong suit, not even close. They leaned toward each other, whispering frantically.

"Was it the Yankees?" Linda hissed under her breath.

"How should I know? I don't watch baseball!" Nancy shot back, her voice tight with anxiety.

"Just guess something!"

Nancy took a deep breath and ventured her answer. "The... Dallas Cowboys?"

Tommy groaned dramatically. “No, not quite,” he countered, shaking his head. “Wrong team, wrong sport. The answer was the Washington Nationals. I’m afraid you’ll have to pay the consequences.”

Molly reached for the controls and turned a knob to the 25-mph setting. Instantly, strong jets of air blasted upward through the vents beneath Linda and Nancy.

Chaos ensued. Their can-can skirts exploded upward past their waists, exposing them to the room. The girls, in a panic, struggled mightily against their restraints. With both wrists securely cuffed, they tried desperately to work together to pull their skirts back down, but their awkwardly linked arms made the effort almost impossible. Each frantic movement only seemed to make matters worse, sending one skirt higher as they struggled to deal with the other.

The result was a ridiculous, humiliating tug-of-war between the two of them, with neither able to get herself properly covered.

The crowd howled with laughter as the two shrieked and flailed against the rising wind for two full minutes before Molly finally turned the dial back to zero. The skirts fluttered down, leaving both women breathless and red-faced on the platform.

Tommy wiped his eyes, still chuckling. “Next question! In what country does the Queen of England reside?”

Linda and Nancy, neither of which was the brightest star in the sky, scrunched their faces with deep concentration, while Carlene, Karen, and Danny rolled their eyes in shared resignation.

“It’s not a trick question,” Tommy added helpfully.

"Uh... England?" guessed Linda tentatively.

Tommy clapped his hands. “Brilliant! Karen and Danny, it’s showtime!”

On cue, the dance music resumed, and the unwilling duo dutifully entertained their energetic audience with their humiliating naked dancing. Karen swayed her hips as best she could with her wrists bound overhead. Danny, his bum still smarting from Molly's earlier spanking, kept his elbows lifted as ordered, doing his best to maintain rhythm as the guests whooped and whistled their approval, some pounding on tables in appreciation.

The music ended, and the blushing dancers hung their heads in shame, their faces burning, while their admirers gave them a mock standing ovation.

"Excellent!" Tommy shouted over the dying applause. He turned back toward Carlene, eyeing her remaining boy shorts. “Thank you for waiting so patiently, Carlene,” he purred. "Have you decided which article of clothing is coming off next?"

Of course, there was no verbal response. Why would there be? She stood motionless, her eyes fixed on some point in the distance. And then, as if to move her along, The Stripper blared once again from the stereo.

To the delight of the crowd, Carlene took a deep breath, swayed her hips halfheartedly, and began tugging at the waistband of her shorts. The fabric clung stubbornly to her skin, forcing her to wiggle them down inch by inch, each movement revealing more of her toned athlete's body. She kept her eyes averted as she bent slightly, revealing more than she wanted with every movement. When the shorts finally slipped past her thighs and fell to her ankles, she stepped out of them quickly and tossed them forward, not even bothering to watch where they landed.

Exposed, she instinctively struck a defensive pose, one arm crossed tightly over her bare chest and the other hand cupped protectively between her legs. Her knees bent slightly, and her shoulders hunched as she tried to make herself smaller, invisible, anything but what she was. Her cheeks burned an almost painful shade of red that crept down her neck. She stared at the floor, jaw clenched, barely breathing as the roar of the audience thundered in her ears.

Tommy drank in her humiliation. He watched as cameras flashed and Carlene squirmed miserably beneath the spotlight. Then, mercifully, or perhaps not, he broke his silence.

“Pick up your volleyball!” he commanded over the pulsing music.

Carlene, knowing resistance was pointless, stood and held the ball over her crotch, using her elbows to shield her breasts as best as possible. For a moment or two, Tommy allowed her that last bit of semi-dignity, watching her struggle to maintain some cover. Then he gave his next command.

“Now take the ball with both hands and hold it high above your head.”

Carlene winced, her eyes squeezing shut for a brief second. There was no escape, no alternative, no mercy forthcoming.

With agonizing slowness, she raised the ball skyward, exposing every inch of her statuesque, six-foot frame to the roaring crowd. Her figure was magnificent, athletic, and utterly exposed, while her expression reflected pure mortification.

“Higher! Stretch those arms, girl!" Tommy shouted. "Now shake those hips!"

Now fully extended and fully shamed, Carlene gave a token sway to the beat until the music faded away.

"Hold that pose," Tommy ordered, watching her tremble slightly under the spotlight.

He turned back to the platform. “Okay, girls. Just two questions left. Answer them right, and we'll have three naked dancers, while you walk away with your dignity intact. Get them wrong? Well... you’ll look back fondly on your can-can routine.”

He gave a wicked grin. “Okay, next question. How do you spell ‘embarrassed?’”

The Final Jeopardy theme played softly as Linda and Nancy whispered back and forth. After a brief argument, Nancy huffed, "Just let me do it!"

The music stopped and Nancy, deep in thought, cleared her throat and articulated her answer carefully.

“I-M-B-E-R-I-S-T.”

Tommy placed a hand over his chest in mock sorrow. "Oh, I'm sorry, girls," he chuckled. "It actually starts with an 'E,' then... well, let's just say you weren't very close. Too bad. Okay, get ready girls. Molly, hit it!"

Linda gave Nancy the evil eye while Molly cranked the blower dial to 50 mph. With a loud whoosh, a roaring gust of air blasted upward, pinning both dresses against their shoulders and exposing their torsos completely. The girls shrieked and clawed helplessly at the billowing dresses, while the audience erupted into fresh laughter.

After several agonizing seconds, Molly shut off the blower, and the dresses flopped back down. The girls gasped for air and clutched at their dresses, burning with embarrassment.

Tommy waited for the noise to wane before continuing. “Last question,” he said with a grin. “Hypothetically speaking, if you were standing completely naked against your will in front of ninety people in the next minute, how would that make you feel?”

The girls looked like they might cry. Although she was reasonably certain it wouldn’t do her any good, Linda gave an answer.

“Embarrassed?” she asked meekly.

Tommy shook his head. "Oh, sorry. Once again, wrong answer. The correct response was humiliated." He turned to his assistant. "Molly, would you help the girls out of their restraints, please?"

Molly stepped forward and released the handcuffs. The metal clicked open, and Linda and Nancy rubbed their wrists instinctively. Then Molly stepped back, grinning with anticipation at what she knew came next.

“Girls,” Tommy said cheerfully. “I’d like you to hold your hands high in the air and leave them there until Molly or I tell you to put them down.”

The two young ladies exchanged a desperate glance, their faces pale. With considerable trepidation, they raised their arms high above their heads. Their fingers trembled slightly as they stretched toward the ceiling.

Molly smiled and twisted the dial again, this time all the way to 65 mph.

A wall of air blasted upward, catching the dresses and stripping them right over their raised arms in one fluid motion. The costumes flew into the air and dropped behind them, landing at the feet of an astonished Karen. The girls’ pubic hair blew in the wind, and their long hair shot skyward, like something out of a cartoon.

The guests were on their feet, screaming with laughter and disbelief.

After allowing the bizarre scene to play out for a minute, Tommy gave Molly the nod to cut off the blowers. The mechanical whine died down, leaving only the ringing laughter of the crowd. Linda and Nancy stood panting, teary-eyed and naked on the platform, their hair wild and faces flushed. They kept their arms raised, too terrified to lower them without permission.

“Okay, girls,” Molly said, “you’re free to go help Cindy and Sally serve cocktails. Thanks so much for the entertainment.”

"Can we... can we get our dresses back? " Linda asked hopefully.

Molly simply laughed. "Oh, honey. Not tonight."

With their heads bowed and faces burning, Linda and Nancy made the shameful naked walk to join their equally exposed friends in their humiliating roles, feeling every eye tracking their progress across the room.

Tommy then turned his full attention back to Carlene, who was still holding the volleyball high above her head. She had played no small role in his humiliation years ago, and he had no intention of going easy on her.

“Carlene,” he called out, “you can set the ball down now.”

With visible relief, Carlene set the volleyball at her feet and instantly folded back into her "cover-up" pose, one arm across her breasts, the other pressed low. Her breaths came shallow and rapid, her eyes locked onto the grain of the floorboards to avoid the gaze of the room.

“I’d like you to get down on all fours now,” Tommy said.

Carlene flinched. The words landed like a slap across her face. Feeling a tightening in her throat, she hesitated, her mind racing for any word or protest that might alter her fate. Finding none, she slowly, mechanically lowered herself onto her hands and knees. The position felt obscene, exposing her completely to the room's hungry eyes.

Tommy stepped forward, stopping beside her to look down. "You treated me like your little pet in the school hallway," he said. “You remember that? How you laughed while I was on my knees?"

He let the silence stretch between them before continuing.

"Now it’s your turn. Let me hear you bark.”

Carlene looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear, her body trembling beneath her. "P-please, Tommy, I...you don't have to do this. I'm sorry. I was stupid, I was cruel. I know that now—"

"That doesn't sound like a doggie," Tommy cut in, entirely unbothered. "I want to hear you bark. Just like a dog."

"Arf," she tried, lamely.

"Not good enough." Tommy cupped his hand to his ear. "Louder!"

"ARF!" she forced out, her face burning with humiliation.

"Better." He nodded approvingly. "Let me hear that three times, nice and loud."

"ARF! ARF! ARF!" Her voice cracked on the final bark as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

"That's a good girl." Tommy knelt beside her, patting her hair. "Now, here’s what you’re going to do. You're going to crawl across the stage, back and forth, until I tell you to stop. And as you go, you’re going to lean down and roll that volleyball along with your nose. The ball is your friend. Do not lose track of it."

He stood up, staring down menacingly at the beleaguered Carlene. “And every time you get back to your home base, which would be right where you are now, I want you to stop, face the audience, and bark as loud as you can, three times. ARF! ARF! ARF! Then start crawling again. Got it?”

The only response from the utterly miserable Carlene was a halfhearted nod. A single tear slipped down her cheek and landed quietly on the wooden stage below her.

"Oh, and one other thing..." Tommy was thinking on the fly and had a brainstorm. "Since dogs like to lick their balls, and you obviously can't do that, here's what I'd like you to do: every time you get to the other side of the stage, I'm going to let you lick Danny's little balls.

A collective gasp went through the crowd, followed by a burst of excited chatter.

"Holy shit!" someone nearby exclaimed. "He's actually going to make her lick the guy's nuts?"

"This is wild!" shouted another.

Tommy waited for the commotion to die down, basking in the shock he’d generated. He looked at Danny, whose grim expression matched Carlene’s. He looked every bit as miserable, trapped, and exposed.

"And I'm not talking about a little tap with your tongue," Tommy continued, his voice rising to ensure everyone heard. "Spend some time there, like you're giving him a thorough cleaning. His balls are baby smooth, so you might like it."

He paused, letting the image sink in. "When you're done licking, you can put them in your mouth. His nut sack is pretty small, so you should be able to fit it all. Roll his little balls around with your tongue while you're sucking on them."

A heavy silence settled over the stage as Tommy gave Carlene a moment to digest her latest disgrace. She remained frozen on all fours, her body visibly trembling.

Tommy broke the quiet by clapping his hands together sharply. "What are you waiting for? Let's go, little doggie!"

With a deep, hesitant swallow, the naked Carlene began crawling forward across the wooden floorboards. Her hindquarters seemed to rise higher in the air as she lowered her head and nudged the volleyball with the tip of her nose. The ball wobbled erratically, forcing her to adjust her path with every awkward step to keep it from rolling off the edge.

The bizarre spectacle drew a fresh roar from the room. Whistles, catcalls, and raucous laughter echoed through the hall.

For Tommy, it was delicious revenge. His mind flashed back to his humiliation at Carlene’s hands in the grammar school hallway. He recalled being forced onto his knees on the bare floor, his head wedged between Carlene’s strong thighs, and how helpless he had felt as she slowly lowered his underpants down his legs. He allowed himself a satisfied smile as he watched her comeuppance.

Carlene continued her slow crawl, her knees smarting against the hard floor as she pushed the ball inch by inch across the stage. When she reached the opposite side, the volleyball stopped at Danny's feet. She knew what she had to do.

With a deep, burning shame, she eyed her target: the smooth, somewhat undersized testicles of the naked, apprehensive eighteen-year-old before her. Danny's jaw was clenched tight, his eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of his own humiliation.

Holding on to his ankles for support, Carlene, much to the amazement of the ninety spectators, opened her mouth and began caressing Danny's balls with her tongue. With Tommy’s directions echoing in her mind, she reluctantly devoted herself to the loathsome chore. Covering the entire circumference of the young man's scrotum, she made sure to avoid a reproach from Tommy, by, in his words, performing a "thorough cleaning." She followed by enveloping his entire sac in her mouth, her cheeks hollowing with the effort.

Danny, miserable while enduring the servitude from a beautiful naked woman, fought against what would be a natural reaction to Carlene's maddening assault on his senses. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Just get it over with," he pleaded softly through gritted teeth.

At least temporarily, he succeeded in fighting off his mounting arousal, his breath coming in sharp hisses through his nose. Just as his resolve began to fray, the girl below him finally discontinued her stimulation, pulling back with a gasp.

Carlene turned and began the arduous journey back toward her mark, nudging the volleyball inch by inch across the stage. The rough, unyielding floorboards bit into her bare knees, each movement sending a dull ache up her legs.

Reaching her starting point at last, she brought the ball to a halt. Crimson-faced and breathing heavily, she looked up at the sea of expectant faces and forced out three loud yelps: "ARF! ARF! ARF!"

The crowd erupted in fresh cheers and mocking applause. Unwilling to pause and face their laughter, she immediately turned around to begin the humiliating lap all over again.

Basking in his satisfaction, Tommy settled into his seat and ordered another cocktail from the naked, perpetually blushing Cindy. She took his order with downcast eyes, apparently no less embarrassed by witnessing others’ humiliation than she was by her own.

As Tommy sipped his fresh cocktail, his attention drifted toward the dressing room doors. Only two targets remained: Sister Ruth and Miss Richards. They had been the primary architects of his childhood shame, and the climax of his evening depended on their downfall. He could already picture the horror on their faces when they realized what he had arranged for them, followed by the sweet satisfaction of watching them inevitably surrender.

Tommy smiled to himself. The best was yet to come.

[Blondie]

Warning: If you think you might be offended by the sexual humiliation and complete degradation of a Catholic nun (even though she had it coming), then it is in your best interests to read no further.

Chapter 21: The Climax

And then there were two.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, taking a slow sip of his cocktail as he scanned the spectacle before him. Four naked waitresses scampered between the tables, keeping the guests well-served and thoroughly entertained.

Behind the bar stood Michael in his frilly maid’s uniform, face burning with shame. Karen remained on the stage, nude but for a pair of elegant heels, her wrists bound high overhead, her body displayed for every leering eye in the room. To her right stood Danny, shivering despite the warmth of the hall, naked and smooth, hairless from the neck down, his hands laced behind his head in a pose of forced submission. His lower lip trembled, and he looked as though he might either cry or throw up, or perhaps both.

And crawling back and forth across the stage like a dutiful puppy was Carlene, still nudging her volleyball with her nose, stopping only to service Danny's balls with her tongue. Having to face the audience and bark for the amused crowd only added to her humiliation. She was naked, of course.

Tommy smiled at the three-ring humiliation circus he had orchestrated.

* * * * *

Inside the dressing room, Sister Ruth and Betty Richards sat alone. The silence between them was thick with dread as they nervously awaited their fate.

Ah, yes, Sister Ruth and Miss Richards, Tommy thought as he finished his drink. The memory of his extreme debasement at their hands still stung, though now it was tempered with anticipation. In a short time, they would pay dearly for their dirty deeds and experience the public humiliation they had inflicted on him years ago.

Buzzing with excitement, he rose and made his way to the stage. Passing Karen, Danny, and Carlene, he paused briefly to savor their humiliating predicament.

"You folks enjoying yourselves?" he asked, chuckling to himself.

There was no response, of course. Only Karen's ragged breathing, Danny's visible trembling, and Carlene's enthusiastic bark.

Tommy chuckled again as he sauntered toward the dressing room, eager to carry out the next phase of his plan.

The door swung open with a bang that made both women jump. Their anxiety spiked as Tommy stepped inside to join his girlfriend.

“Hello, ladies!” he beamed. “I hope you’ve been comfortable in here, but I think it’s time you joined the party. After all, the guests have been waiting for tonight’s main attraction!”

Molly retrieved two pieces of lingerie on hangers from the closet, holding them up in front of the apprehensive ladies like a game show host displaying prizes. One was a long black button-up negligee; the other, a brief, frilly pink babydoll.

“Molly picked up a little something for each of you,” Tommy said, his eyes dancing between them. "I hope you like them. Now, let's get you out of those dresses and into something more comfortable.”

The two unfortunates sat dumbfounded, their minds struggling to process the command, until Molly snapped them out of their daze.

"You heard what Tommy said," she bellowed. "STRIP!

As the beleaguered women slowly stood up, Sister Ruth tried her hand at playing the religion card.

“Please,” she pleaded, clasping her hands together. “Have mercy. I’m a woman of God. I’ve dedicated my life to—”

"To taking advantage of innocent kids for your sadistic pleasure?" Tommy finished for her. "Strip. Now."

The women exchanged resigned glances. They knew there was no point in pleading further, so they slowly began peeling off their can-can dresses. Both were blushing brightly, feeling quite uncomfortable as they stripped in front of the leering Tommy.

They had already been divested of their panties onstage earlier, so when their dresses finally came off, they stood in nothing but black thigh-high stockings, high heels, and gloomy expressions. Their heads hung down in shame, and their hands instinctively moved to cover themselves as best they could.

Tommy's mind flashed back to that day on the bus, when he had first stopped time and stripped the beautiful Miss Richards. He remembered how surprised he had been to discover that she was completely shaven, her sex bare and exposed, and from what he could see now beneath her hands, that was still the case. Tommy felt a stirring in his pants, not only at the sight of the naked women, but equally by their obvious embarrassment and the impending humiliation he had planned for them.

He took his time, enjoying their discomfort as they tried to shield themselves from his view before giving further instructions. “You won’t be needing those stockings, either,” he said.

Silently, miserably, the women turned their backs to him, seeking some small measure of privacy. They sat down on the floor and began slowly peeling the stockings from their legs, their hands trembling slightly. Tommy chuckled at their attempt at modesty, knowing that in short order they would be nude and exposed in front of a fascinated audience of more than ninety people.

Once they were fully stripped, Molly stepped forward with the garments. She handed the black negligee to Sister Ruth, who hurriedly pulled it around herself, her fingers shaking as she lined up the small buttons.

Molly presented the pink babydoll to Miss Richards. The teacher's eyes widened in alarm when she pulled it on and realized it barely covered her crotch, leaving the lower curve of her backside shamelessly exposed. She tugged at the hem in vain, trying to pull it lower, but the fabric refused to stretch. A cold shiver ran down her spine as the reality of her situation sank in. Standing in a dressing room was one thing, but stepping onto the stage beneath the bright lights in such a revealing outfit was another matter entirely.

Tommy turned the two to face each other. “Take a good look at each other, ladies.” They hesitated, then locked eyes, only to quickly look away, their faces flushed with mutual shame.

“I hope you find each other desirable,” Tommy teased. “Considering how intimate you two soon will be, it’d be a shame if you weren’t attracted to each other.”

A look of horror appeared on each teacher’s face as they digested the ramifications of Tommy's statement. Their mouths opened, closed, opened again as they searched for words that would not come.

“Oh, relax,” he added, giving them a wink. “You might surprise yourselves. Who knows, you might really like it. And I can guarantee that your audience will love it." He paused, letting his eyes travel over their bodies. "Just pretend you're auditioning for an X-rated movie. Have you ever had an orgasm, Sister?"

Sister Ruth was aghast. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, her voice shaking as she took a trembling step forward, her hands clutching at the front of her negligee.

“Tommy, please,” she pleaded. “This has gone far enough. I can’t... I won’t go through with this. Nobody’s ever touched me down there. Ever! Stop this madness now. Please, Tommy, I beg you.”

Tommy smiled, saying nothing, savoring the sight of his former tormentor squirming, drinking in her desperation. He let her pleas hang in the air for a moment, making no effort to reassure her.

Then, instead of answering, Tommy stopped time for all but Molly and himself. The room went silent and still.

He took Miss Richards' hand and slipped it up Sister Ruth’s negligee and wrapped it around her breast. He took her other hand and inserted two of her fingers inside Sister Ruth’s vagina. He then put both of Sister Ruth’s hands on Miss Richards’ backside, spreading her fingers across the curves, and then gently pressed their faces together, aligning their lips into a perfect simulation of a steamy kiss.

Tommy stepped back and admired the result. Beside him, Molly giggled while she and Tommy shared a gleeful glance.

He then started time.

For a moment, the two women remained frozen in their unexpected intimacy, neither seeming to realize what had happened. Then—

“AGHHHH!” they shrieked in perfect unison.

The two women jolted apart as if shocked by electricity, suddenly realizing that their mouths had been pressed together and their hands were in places they most certainly shouldn't have been. Pulling away in disgust, Miss Richards stumbled backward into the dressing table, sending cosmetics scattering across the surface, while Sister Ruth wiped her mouth furiously, her eyes wide with disbelief.

It was a moment of comic gold for Tommy and Molly, who watched the perfectly orchestrated scene with delight. Tommy glanced between the two humiliated women, his grin widening.

“You two really do make a stunning pair,” he teased. Then, with a wink, he added, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to return to my seat and await your performance. Molly will give you full instructions on exactly how I’d like you to enjoy each other out there—every juicy detail. And you’d better be convincing, or the consequences will be even worse."

He turned to go, then paused at the door. “Oh, one last thing,” he said, flashing a grin over his shoulder. “For a little warm-up, how about you two share a nice, slow kiss on the lips?”

Both women went rigid, their faces going pale. Sister Ruth opened her mouth, but no words came out. Miss Richards covered her face with both hands.

“Come on,” teased Tommy, “You know you want it. One nice wet one to warm each other up.”

Realizing it was pointless to delay the inevitable, Sister Ruth and Miss Richards shuffled closer. Their eyes stayed low, unable to meet each other's gaze, as they leaned in and exchanged the briefest brush of their lips, a touch so light it was barely a kiss at all.

Tommy wasn’t having it. “Uh-uh,” he called out. “I want to see some passion. In a few minutes you’re going to be going at each other like a couple of animals, so I want you to really get into this kiss to set the tone. Make me believe it."

With obvious reluctance, they leaned in again, this time kissing with a bit more enthusiasm, hoping that showing just enough effort would get Tommy to leave them alone. But he stepped closer instead.

“No, no, no,” he chided. “You're lovers, not distant friends. Let’s add a little spice. Stick out your tongues.”

They hesitated, the pause stretching long and painful, then complied, timidly extending their tongues, both women visibly cringing at the indignity.

“Good! Now touch them together.” Tommy grinned. “Yes, just like that. Now swirl those tongues around. Keep them touching. Yes! Now you’re getting it!" He laughed with delight. "Oh yes, you make a ravishing couple. Now put your lips together. Excellent! Keep those tongues dancing. Mix it up, and taste each other’s passion. Feel the love!"

Tommy allowed their embarrassing display to continue for a moment longer, savoring the spectacle more for his own amusement than any genuine interest in their performance. He watched their clumsy embrace, clearly enjoying every second of it. At last, he allowed them to separate.

"Alright, that's more like it," he drawled. "You can break it up now. But I want to see that same spark when you’re out onstage. I want to see heat. I want to see two women who can't keep their hands off each other."

The two women backed away from each other, humiliated, red-faced, and perhaps even a little queasy.

Tommy gestured toward his girlfriend. “Now listen to Molly. She’ll tell you exactly what you’re going to do.” With that, he exited the room, whistling a carefree tune as he made his way back to his table.

Molly, meanwhile, enthusiastically took over. She laid out the plan in meticulous detail, every step carefully choreographed, every intimate detail spelled out for them. The teachers listened in mounting horror.

"Please," Sister Ruth pleaded. "There must be some other way. Some... some alternative you haven't considered."

Molly, of course, was unrelenting. "I know the humiliation you put him through. So no, Sister. No alternatives."

She paused only briefly before resuming her instructions.

"You'll enter from stage left," Molly explained. "Hand in hand, smiling at each other like long-lost lovers reunited. Then you'll pause center stage, letting the audience get a good look at you both. When the music starts, you're going to give the performance of a lifetime. And I’m warning you, you’d better be convincing.”

Molly opened the door to the dressing room, and, knees shaking, the frightened teachers took each other’s clammy hands and stepped into the limelight. Their dread only intensified when they saw the bizarre spectacle already in progress: Karen hanging nude from her restraints in the middle of the stage, Danny standing miserably near her in his hairless shame, and Carlene, naked and degraded, crawling on the stage floor.

"Oh my God," the astonished Sister Ruth said. "What have they done to them?"

"Made them stars," Molly replied cheerfully. "Just like we're about to do for you. Get ready, ladies, it's showtime."

Molly stepped up to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced, “I give you... Sister Ruth and Betty Richards!”

A loud cheer erupted from the audience, followed by a standing ovation as the crowd took in the sight of the teachers in their sexy nightwear. The two women stood rigid in the glare of the spotlight, their fingers still intertwined, their eyes wide with terror. When the noise finally quieted, the house lights dimmed to near darkness. Then the unmistakable opening of Ravel’s Boléro poured from the speakers, rich and sensual.

That was the cue for the stars of the moment. Miss Richards turned to Sister Ruth and leaned in. Their lips met again, but this time, it was no rehearsal. The audience hushed, a mix of gasps and titters sweeping through the room the as they watched the prim teacher and the nun share a passionate kiss. At Tommy's table, his guests raised their glasses to him in salute. Tommy smiled and returned the salute, his eyes never leaving the stage.

Up on the stage, the show was in full swing. Miss Richards, still maintaining the lip lock, slowly began unbuttoning her partner’s negligee, starting at the collar. One by one, she worked her way down.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against her partner’s mouth.

Sister Ruth was unable to form a response in her state of distress.

By the time she reached the fourth button, the once-modest neckline became exposed, revealing the nun’s quivering breasts and deepening her humiliation.

Sister Ruth stood motionless, eyes tightly shut, enduring each soft caress of her colleague’s lips along her neck. She tried to focus on her breathing, on the familiar prayers that usually brought her comfort, but the sensation of Betty’s mouth against her skin made concentration impossible. For the audience, it was a sensual experience, but for the two women onstage, it was a mortifying nightmare.

As the volume of Boléro gradually intensified, building toward its inevitable crescendo, Miss Richards escalated her performance, her lips moving lower as her hands worked another button free. Betty moved her tongue delicately, planting soft kisses on her partner’s nipples with a gentleness that seemed almost obscene given the circumstances. She moved with confidence, as though this wasn’t her first time. In truth, she’d never been with another woman before, but she was perceptive enough to sense what might bring pleasure and was simply following her instincts. She could feel her counterpart’s racing heartbeat beneath her lips and sense her response despite her desperate resistance.

As much as she loathed her current undertaking, she was operating under threat, warned in no uncertain terms to play her role to the hilt or face the consequences. And whatever those consequences were, she had no desire to find out.

Miss Richards continued stimulating Sister Ruth’s bosom as she unclasped another button of the negligee. That's when two very interesting developments occurred.

The first involved the naked young man who had been trying so desperately to become invisible. Danny's already heightened embarrassment was about to intensify because of a physiological response that was completely beyond his control. As he watched the two women locked in their forced embrace, something stirred within him—something deeply unwanted, deeply betraying, deeply human.

“Oh, please,” he said quietly to himself. “Not here. Not now. Not in front of everyone. Please, not this!"

But try as he might to suppress the sensation, he was slowly becoming erect. It certainly did not help when Carlene, making her obligatory rounds, positioned herself before him and began licking his balls. He tried focusing on something mundane, but his member had a mind of its own. When Carlene started swirling his boys around in her mouth, there was no turning back.

He dared not move his hands from behind his head, and he prayed that everyone would be so entranced by the exhibition being put on by the two teachers that his predicament would go unnoticed.

But then a voice from the crowd rang out: “Hey! Check it out! Danny's getting a woody!”

Before Danny could blink, the spotlight operator, clearly in sync with Tommy, swung a blinding white beam directly onto his erect penis. The crowd roared with laughter. Danny groaned and threw his head back in shame, his face burning with humiliation. The audience was laughing at him with cruel delight, pointing and hooting, as his hairless penis stood fully erect, measuring less than five inches.

As Carlene crawled away, Danny could only stand wretchedly while the spotlight continued to shine on his source of embarrassment.

The other interesting development involved the recipient of Betty Richards’ devoted attention. Sister Ruth had cringed as she was about to receive the mouth of Betty’s with her own, her entire body tense with resistance. Per Tommy and Molly’s directive, she reciprocated the kiss, her lips moving against her will. Then, when her reluctant partner lowered her wet caresses to her breasts, something unsettling happened: Despite every instinct to resist, every prayer she had ever learned, a slow, unmistakable heat began to stir within her.

Much like the naked boy nearby, she tried to fight it off. But her partner’s relentless attention only fueled the arousal she was struggling to contain, each flick of Betty's tongue sending sparks through her body that she couldn't resist.

“No,” she whispered under her breath. “No, no, no...”

To make matters worse, she felt Betty undoing the remaining buttons of her negligee. Before she could react, the garment slipped from her shoulders and fell to the floor. A collective cheer erupted from the audience.

“Oh my God,” she said aloud when the realization hit her. "I'm naked."

As dreadful as that was, it wasn't the nudity that unsettled her most. Her state of arousal was a bigger concern. She felt the wetness between her legs that she could no longer deny. Betty Richards was on her knees, gradually working her way down her torso with her tongue. Starting at her navel and descending inch by inch, her friend expertly worked her way downward, and soon had her tongue in her most private parts. In her entire life, Sister Ruth had never experienced anything remotely approaching the intensity of what she was feeling now. Despite herself, a flush of arousal surged through her, the sensation so intense that her knees nearly buckled.

"Please," she gasped, not even sure if she was begging for mercy or for more.

Betty expertly toyed with her clitoris, knowing just the right buttons to push. The audience was treated to quite a scene as Miss Richards’ babydoll had risen up, exposing most of her beautifully rounded ass to the appreciative crowd.

Sister Ruth could hold back no longer. Her hands found the back of Betty's head, seemingly guiding her while her own body began rotating involuntarily, grinding against her partner's face with a hunger she couldn't control. She heard the sound of her own voice, to her surprise.

“Ooh...” she heard herself coo. “Ahhh...” She couldn’t restrain herself anymore. “Oh, Betty!” she cried, her voice rising as her entire body began to writhe, bucking and twisting to the point where her partner could barely hold her still. The wildly gyrating naked nun put her hands on her own head and bent backward from the waist, her mouth open, her breasts thrust upward. The audience watched in awestruck fascination as Sister Ruth completely lost herself in the moment.

“Oh, God, no! No! Oh, yes! YES! OH, BETTY! BETTY! OH MY GOD! OH GOD!” She was practically drowning out the music with her cries. “OH, BETTY, PLEASE! OH! OH! GOD HELP ME! OH YES! YES! OH GOD!”

Miss Richards' tongue continued to work its magic as Sister Ruth was in the throes of ecstasy, her body convulsing with pleasure she had never imagined possible.

“OHMYGOD! OH, BETTY! YES! YES! YES! YES! OH, YES! OHHH, YES! PLEASE! OHHH YESSS! AH! AH! AH! AH! AH! AAAAAAAHHH!”

At last, Betty Richards pulled away, her face smeared with her friend’s flowing juices. The final notes of Boléro reached its thunderous conclusion, and the only sound she could hear was the clapping and cheering of the enthusiastic audience.

I can’t believe I just brought a nun to orgasm in front of all these people, Betty thought, her mind reeling. I can't believe I did that. I can't believe she...

She pushed herself up, instinctively tugging at the hem of her babydoll in a useless attempt to cover her exposed backside. She glanced at the spent Sister Ruth, who was gradually coming back to the cold reality of her humiliation. The two women stood awkwardly under the spotlight, the crowd's cheers still continuing around them, their bodies glistening with perspiration and the other evidence of their ordeal.

Both turned toward Molly, silently begging for permission to leave, begging for the nightmare to end.

Instead, Tommy stepped up onto the stage, heading straight toward them.

“Thanks, ladies, that was absolutely incredible!” Tommy said, greeting the mortified teachers with a grin. He took Sister Ruth by the hand and gently began guiding her off the stage. “Come with me, Sister. You look like you could use a break.” Over his shoulder, he caught Miss Richards’ eye. "You hang tight right there. I’ve got special plans for you.”

The expressions on the ladies' faces seemed to echo the same desperate thought: Oh, God, what more can he possibly DO to us?

Tommy guided Sister Ruth down the steps while her free hand desperately tried to shield what little dignity she had left. When they reached his front table, Tommy gave the tabletop a casual pat.

“Why don’t you climb up here, Sister, and make yourself comfortable?” Tommy instructed.

Sister Ruth squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, her face contorting with anxiety. Then, obediently, she climbed onto the table. The audience rewarded her submission with another wave of amused laughter. Perched awkwardly on her haunches, she hunched forward, doing her best to cover her nakedness with her hands and arms, though the gesture felt futile. Every inch of her posture radiated pure misery.

Tommy paused for a long moment, allowing himself to bask in Sister Ruth's humiliation before addressing her again.

“Oh, that simply won’t do, Sister,” he said. “I think we all would like to have a much better view of your sexy body. I’d venture a guess that most of our guests have never seen a nun stark naked before. So what do you say we give them the full experience? The complete Sister Ruth experience, if you will. Stretch out on your hands and knees for us, just like our friend Carlene up there. And spread your knees apart, nice and wide.”

The beleaguered Sister Ruth, her spirit clearly broken, resignedly did exactly as she was told.

"There's a good girl," Tommy purred. "Now move those arms forward. All the way to the edge of the table. That's it, let everyone see what you've been hiding under that habit all these years. The body God gave you, Sister. Surely he wanted it appreciated."

The giggles persisted as the wretched victim stretched out her body. She now was leaning forward, her ass high in the air and her very private parts on prominent display. Her degradation would have no bounds, no limits, no mercy.

Unbeknownst to her, the table she knelt upon was no ordinary piece of furniture. It was designed to rotate. Once Sister Ruth was in position, Tommy discreetly pressed a button beneath its edge. To her dismay, the platform began to turn, slowly and deliberately, completing a full revolution every sixty seconds. Sister Ruth lowered her head, overwhelmed by shame, barely able to endure this newest affront to her dignity.

Meanwhile, right on cue, Molly met Tommy at the edge of the stage and handed him six brightly-colored Ping-Pong paddles. There was about to be payback for Sister Ruth forcing Tommy to walk through a spanking gauntlet in the classroom, all those years ago. Tommy grinned as he returned to the table and began distributing the paddles like party favors to his eager friends.

"Gather round, everyone," he called out cheerfully. "I want to share something with you. Did you know that Sister Ruth here is quite into the spanking scene?" He turned to the rotating nun, his smile widening. "Isn't that right, Sister?"

He stepped close, gently lifting her chin with two fingers to force eye contact. Her weary, mortified expression said it all. Her eyes were hollow with humiliation.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Tommy concluded.

He turned to his friends, his enthusiasm palpable. "All right, my friends, here's the situation. Sister Ruth has generously volunteered her services for a little demonstration. We're going to add some color to this pasty white ass of hers. I recommend standing. You’ll get much better leverage.”

The grinning group enthusiastically rose from their seats, their faces flushed with anticipation.

“Here’s how it works,” Tommy continued. “Every time this lovely ass passes in front of you, show your appreciation. Give it a nice, solid swat with your paddle. I’ll speed things up a bit, so you won’t be waiting long between turns." He leaned down, addressing Sister Ruth directly. "Now, Sister, I know what you're thinking. 'Tommy, this is humiliating.' And you're absolutely right. It is. But here's the thing. If you hold still and take it like a good girl, this ends eventually. And if you feel the need to cry out... well, we certainly won’t stop you. In fact, I think we'd all enjoy that very much."

He stepped back and clapped his hands together. “Let the games begin!”

With a flick of his fingers, Tommy increased the table’s speed. It began to rotate more briskly, drawing eager attention from the crowd as the mechanism whirred to life. A young blonde woman stepped forward eagerly and delivered the first slap, her paddle striking Sister Ruth’s backside.

Whack! The sound resonated throughout the hall.

Whap! came another, this time from the girl’s grinning boyfriend. Laughter and cheers filled the room. The guests were clearly enjoying themselves, their faces animated with cruel delight.

Tommy stepped up next, and he didn't hold back. He wound up like a baseball player at bat, putting his whole body into the swing.

THWACK! Sister Ruth's back involuntarily lifted from the blow, her body arching in response to the pain.

By the time the table made its first full rotation, her backside was nearly as flushed as her face. After two rounds, it was deep crimson. Though Sister Ruth remained stubbornly silent, her tight, trembling posture spoke volumes, and Tommy knew she had to be in pain. But he wanted to get one last lick in, hoping to hear her finally break, to hear her beg for mercy.

“Alright, folks,” he called out, raising a hand. “That’s enough. I think she got the message.”

The guests sat down. Tommy paused for a few seconds, letting the silence stretch.

Then, suddenly, he spun around and pounced on her with a quick flurry, striking twice on each cheek.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

Within seconds, the sharp stinging pain became too much, and Sister Ruth couldn’t hold back any longer.

"Ow! Ow! OWWWWW!" she cried out. "Please, Tommy, no MORE! Oh God, please stop! Oh, God, it hurts!”

It was music to Tommy's ears.

She desperately wanted to reach back and soothe her burning bum, but she resisted, knowing that any movement would invite further punishment from Tommy. To cope with the pain, she rolled her torso in slow, rhythmic circles. The motion provided even more entertainment for Tommy. He let her writhing continue for another moment, allowing his guests to enjoy the spectacle before finally reaching over to turn down the motor.

The table’s rotation gradually slowed, turning Sister Ruth into a slowly revolving exhibit of humiliation. Her head remained bowed, unable to face the room, her body fully displayed as she spun.

“Now, now, Sister,” Tommy scolded softly. “You were the one who taught me the value of eye contact. Remember? Especially when your admirers are taking such a keen interest. The least you can do is look them in the eye and show a little gratitude for their attention."

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears of humiliation, but Sister Ruth obeyed. As the platform turned with agonizing slowness, she forced herself to meet the gaze of every guest around the table. Their faces gleamed with open amusement, taking in every detail of her exposed body. For Sister Ruth, direct eye contact was torture, but worse still was knowing that while she locked eyes with one smirking face, another right behind her had an unobstructed view of what, only a half hour ago, had been uncharted territory, private and sacred.

Tommy watched her slow, pained rotation for another turn or two, clearly pleased. Then, with a satisfied nod, he made his way back toward the stage. As he passed Danny, he saw the spotlight on the suffering youth’s penis, which now maintained roughly a three-quarters erection, his body continuing to betray him.

Tommy paused, appraised him with a grin, and said, “Tell you what, Danny boy. I’m going to let you get some relief.”

Danny exhaled, thinking the ordeal was finally over. But Tommy has something else in mind.

"I'm going to let you play with yourself," he continued, "until you manage to get yourself off. Right here. Right now.”

Danny, crushed at the new turn of events, slowly lowered his arms from behind his head but rested them at his sides rigidly. He just couldn’t bring himself to touch himself in front of the amused audience.

Tommy stepped in casually, guiding Danny’s left hand back behind his head and placing his right hand firmly on his exposed penis. “You only need one hand, Danny, my boy,” Tommy said with a wink. “I’m sure this isn’t your first solo performance." He patted Danny's shoulder with mock tenderness. "Now be a good boy and finish what you've started. Don't stop until you've handled your business."

The woeful Danny slowly, mechanically, started stroking himself, his face twisted in shame. He couldn’t hear Tommy’s chuckle over the boisterous laughter from the audience. He squeezed his eyes shut and continued masturbating while Tommy turned to a trembling Betty Richards, who had been left waiting in her own private purgatory.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Richards,” he said, stepping closer. “Did you miss me? I hope you don't feel neglected.”

Betty Richards was in no state to play along with Tommy’s frivolity. She stood there in her babydoll, the flimsy fabric offering no protection, wishing she could become invisible.

Tommy gave a subtle signal to the balcony, and seconds later, the familiar strains of Johann Strauss’s The Blue Danube, with its graceful waltz rhythm, swept through the room’s sound system. It was the exact piece Miss Richards had insisted Sister Ruth play repeatedly all those years ago, the soundtrack to Tommy’s own humiliation as she methodically stripped him before the entire seventh- and eighth-grade dance class.

Now the tables had turned, and Tommy savored every note.

“Recognize the music, my illustrious dance teacher?” he asked, stepping into her space.

Miss Richards said nothing, her eyes silently begging for a mercy she knew wasn't coming.

"Shall we dance?" Tommy offered his hand. "For old times' sake?"

Without waiting for an answer, he took her right hand in his left and swept her into a slow, deliberate turn across the stage.

"See how well you taught me?" he whispered. "Aren’t you proud? Come on, Miss Richards, try to look like you’re enjoying yourself. Smile for the crowd. They came to see a show, after all."

Betty Richards reached behind her with a desperate hand, trying in vain to tug the short hem downward. Tommy caught the movement instantly. He took both of her wrists, raising them until he draped her arms over his shoulders, pinning them behind his neck. The position pulled her body flush against his, yanked the garment higher, and left the curve of her backside fully exposed to the room. The crowd roared in delight.

Then she felt it—the soft, deliberate pull at her lower back. Tommy’s hands had slipped behind her, his fingers hooking into the hem and gathering it up to her waist. Cool air touched her bare skin just before his palms rested against her, holding the gathered cloth in place. For now, his posture shielded her from the audience’s direct line of sight, though she had a feeling that protection wouldn’t last.

“What say we rotate around,” Tommy whispered into her ear, his lips brushing her skin. “I think it’s time we share your lovely ass with your adoring fans.”

She tried to hold her ground, but Tommy simply guided her where he wanted her, gently but insistently rotating their embrace until her back faced the room, fully on display. Instantly, a roar of cheers and catcalls erupted through the hall. Betty Richards felt the heat rush to her face, her flush deepening to a furious red.

Tommy danced her a little longer, letting the beat drag out her exposure. Then, without warning, he seized both her hands and raised them high above her head. The spotlight adjusted, locking onto them. Still moving to the rhythm, she braced herself for the inevitable.

Teasingly, Tommy began gathering the babydoll upward. He paused with the fabric bunched just above her chest, locking eyes with her. He smiled, openly basking in her panic.

“Tell me,” he teased. “Are you excited? You’re about to be dancing with me.... completely... and totally... nude.”

With that, in one fluid motion, he pulled the garment over her head, up her arms and off her fingertips, tossing it into the audience, where it fluttered into the lap of a female guest, who squealed with delight and waved it in the air as the crowd roared its approval.

Now naked to the world, Miss Richards gasped and instinctively covered herself, her hands flying to her breasts and her thighs. But Tommy wasn’t about to let her. He snatched her right hand back into his left, drew her left hand up to rest on his shoulder, and pulled her right back into the waltz. She moved with rigid, trembling steps, tears forming in her eyes as her body remained on display beneath the hot stage lights.

Tommy took his time looking her over, scanning down to her red-painted toes and back up to her burning face.

“How does it feel, Miss Richards, to be dancing naked in front of so many people?”

There was no answer. She couldn't speak, her throat tight with humiliation and despair.

“I asked you a question. And look me in the eyes while we dance.”

Through her tears she looked at Tommy beseechingly, her lips trembling. "Please, Tommy, I'm begging you. Stop this insanity now. Please, I can't take it anymore!"

Tommy only chuckled. “Yeah, I know the feeling. Pretty humiliating, isn’t it? You would know. After all, you’re the one who taught me.” He gestured with a tilt of his head to the big screen behind them. "Though, at least when you did it to me it wasn’t being broadcast. Check it out.”

Miss Richards forced her eyes up to the screen, only to recoil in horror as she saw herself orally servicing her friend Sister Ruth, the footage playing in agonizing slow motion. She let out a strangled gasp and quickly turned away, her face contorting with shock.

“Oh, my God!”

“Yeah," Tommy quipped. "That’s what she kept saying.”

The music faded. Tommy released her hands and stepped back. “I’ve saved one last song for you, my darling Miss Richards,” he said, raising his hand toward the balcony. “I think you’ll recognize it.”

The heavy rhythm of a familiar Arabic melody pulsed through the hall. Miss Richards felt a churning in her stomach. She remembered the song all too well. It was the exact track she had forced a young, humiliated Tommy to belly dance to years ago, completely naked before his peers, his face burning with the same shame she now felt. Now, the roles were completely inverted.

"Time for you to go solo, Miss Richards," Tommy said, grinning with genuine pleasure. "And don't disappoint us. After all, you taught me that a dancer's attitude makes or breaks the routine. Sexy and flirtatious, yet mysterious. That was great advice, teach, and it'll serve you well right now. You'd better make it good."

She remained rooted in the beam of the spotlight, completely nude, as the room held its collective breath in anticipation.

“What are you waiting for?” Tommy said, his voice playful but commanding. "Dance! Give them a show to remember! Make your star pupil proud!”

With the light fixed harshly on her, Miss Richards hesitated, her mortification overwhelming. But she knew resistance would be pointless. He would only make it worse, draw it out longer, and find some new way to degrade her.

With a hard swallow, Betty Richards gave in to the rhythm and began to belly dance, her hips swaying and her arms flowing in graceful arcs above her head. Despite her humiliation, her muscle memory kicked in, and her talent took over. She was a great dancer, and, truth be told, she was undeniably captivating, sexy, and flirtatious. Inside, however, she was burning with shame.

The crowd went wild. They clapped and shouted, stomping their feet in time with the driving rhythm. The excitement that had been building throughout the evening was reaching a crescendo.

Tommy strolled to the edge of the stage and slipped an arm around Molly's waist, pulling her close as they stood together, surveying the spectacle they had orchestrated.

Around the room, the various scenes of humiliation continued. Karen was still bound and bare, writhing against her restraints. Carlene pressed on with her naked crawl, her knees raw against the wooden floor as she dutifully nudged the volleyball along with her nose. Danny remained beneath the spotlight, unable to climax under the bizarre circumstances, even with the intermittent encouragement from Carlene's tongue.

Behind the bar, Michael continued mixing cocktails in his frilly maid’s outfit while four naked, red-faced women scurried among the tables with trays of drinks, their eyes downcast.

On the rotating table, Sister Ruth remained on her hands and knees, making another slow revolution around the platform. Her head remained bowed, unable to face the guests, her exposure complete and devastating.

He turned his gaze back toward the stage, where the beautiful Miss Richards danced with abandon beneath the spotlight, her curvaceous, naked body undulating to the beat of the music. Above her, the big screen continued displaying compromising footage of her passionately servicing Sister Ruth as her old friend writhed through a reluctant yet unstoppable orgasm.

Then he looked to his immediate right at Molly's beaming face and realized there was still one person he looked forward to stripping that night. He imagined her in his bed, embracing the unbridled passion that awaited them.

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and allowed himself a satisfied smile. The revenge was complete.

“Beautiful,” Tommy said aloud to nobody in particular. “Just beautiful.”

End