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How the Bouncer Entertains Himself

Part 10

For Limemas

By Draconicon

It had been three days since Karlos had brought Caleb back, and there hadn't been one shouting match since.

Oh, there'd been shouting, but those had been the usual squabbles between the dancers getting upset about this one or that one having a new perfume, or some pitched screaming from the door when Michael got a little physical with the rowdier people in the crowd. The former 'meetings' between Lawrence and his manager - and the loud 'talking' that happened therein - had completely stopped. For the first two days, Lawrence had been sure that they would start again the moment that he felt safe, but it never happened.

The brown-furred rabbit managed to control the impulse to look up from his paperwork this time, taking a few deep breaths before the urge faded. It was getting better. So was he. He hoped.

Okay...okay. What are the finances? Caleb sent them in this morning, and...and he's been doing good.

That was what he needed to focus on. Paperwork. Business. The way that the world worked and needed to be watched over to keep it all in order. That was it. That was what he was supposed to be doing.

The numbers rolled over his monitor as he flicked down the columns. Caleb might have been the one to compile the whole thing and run accounting wizardry to make it all work out, but the Doberman was only really good with juggling the numbers and finding ways to make it work. When it came down to the business decisions, that was the rabbit's department, and Lawrence liked to think that he was good at it. He had, after all, kept a strip club running when it could have been shut down no less than a dozen times because of the records of some of the employees, or suits from customers, or other problems. Yet, due to all the hard work that he did, all the legal loopholes he managed to find, and all the connections that he'd put together, they were still standing.

Barely.

The bills are getting higher...and the girls aren't pulling in enough anymore.

The strip club business was a hard one to consistently turn a profit at. The locals started getting bored over time, and while the tourists were always interested in a themed strip club - particularly one with scaly ladies, something that they couldn't get everywhere - they were still dealing with competition. A lot of competition.

And they can spend more money advertising than I can.

Lawrence bit his lip as he saw how little they had for it in the coming quarter. Less than a third of the last quarter's budget for advertising if they wanted to keep everyone getting paid a fair rate and keep the lights on. Not a good situation to be in, particularly not with Karlos roaming around.

A shiver ran down the rabbit's spine, and he had to bite his lip to keep from whimpering as he thought about the Komodo Dragon that he'd hired as a bouncer all that time back. He'd thought that the short man would just be a good little thug, someone that would keep things on the up and up. Then he'd found out that Karlos was gay, and while he wasn't a homophobe, he'd thought that it might not work out. Not because of any danger, but because he wanted someone that liked the girls and would protect them.

And then...

A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered that 'meeting.' What he'd meant as a general meeting to find out what he could do to change things for their mutual satisfaction had turned into a complete rape. He hadn't used that word after the first thrust down his throat, but it had been at the time, no matter how many times he'd cum from the face-fuck. It should have been impossible for one person to get that much pleasure, but there was no denying that it had happened that way.

He shivered more, his cock aching even as it refused to get hard. Instead, it dribbled in his pants, oozing pre-cum at a rate that only thoughts of Karlos could accomplish. He groaned, losing focus, looking away from the screen as the memory came to him all the more vividly, hitting him like a truck.

_On his knees, his head pinned against his own desk, held on his knees as the heat of the venom coursed through his veins. His cock throbbed, all but squirting pre-cum into his pants, his eyes rolled back in their sockets. That fat dick against his lips, in his mouth, thrusting down his throat -

Pulse.

Pulse.

Pulse.

He moaned around it, cumming just as the balls hit his chin, filling his neck to the brim with that thick thing. He couldn't breathe around it, but didn't want to. The thick, heady scent in the Komodo Dragon's crotch hit him harder, making him swim in it.

Pulse.

Squirt.

Pulse.

Squirt.

More pleasure. More salty, musky goo going down his throat. His tongue was soaked with it. He was hard. So hard._

"Ah...ah..."

Lawrence turned from his desk, almost falling out of his chair as he doubled over. The rabbit managed to catch the arm of his chair and stay upright by the barest of margins, hissing as he reached for his crotch. As expected, he found his pants soaked, the bubbling ooze of his pre-cum dribbling through his underwear and against his work pants.

Not again...

It was the first time this week, at least. It used to happen at least twice a day. The little 'fits' of memory would come upon him, seizing hold and dragging him back to his moments of utter addiction. Even now, after pulling himself out of that night on his knees - and knowing where that memory would have led after that - Lawrence still felt the urge to go back to it, to think of it again, to let the memory take him and just...forget.

Forget about the business worries.

Forget about the stress of managing Michael and Karlos and all the others.

Forget about everything that wasn't pleasure. Empty, mindless, stress-free pleasure that never had to stop as long as he just...kept...sucking.

The shivers that ran down his spine were split equally between fear and arousal, and he didn't know which was which. He had long since lost track of which feelings came from outright terror and which came from the simple desire to just...give in. Even now, his cock throbbed futilely, wanting to be hard, but unable to. It had been part of the treatment that had gotten him off his addiction in the first place; one of the prices that he'd had to pay was the lack of erection without -

Lawrence groaned, holding one hand to his face as he pushed himself back from thoughts of that. If he went down that road, then he'd start thinking about how fun it would be to give in, how much of a relief it would be, and then he'd want to do it.

And Karlos would let him. The bouncer had never been much for self-control, and he took so much pleasure out of controlling, hurting, breaking others. The grin on the reptile's face that Lawrence still remembered haunted - and teased - his dreams on a regular basis.

Shivering, he forced himself upright once more. His cock had come close to drenching the crotch of his pants, and - after taking a moment to make sure that the door was locked tight - he pulled them off and folded them up. Tucking them in one of the lower drawers of his desk, he pulled out another pair of pants and slid into them. His underwear was a lost cause, but the scent wasn't the problem. He could hide that. He couldn't hide the soaked look that came with it.

Making sure that it fit properly, he looked back at his computer. The monitor had gone dark from how long he had been looking away, leaving him staring at himself. The white, glasses-like spots on his face looked back, and he shook his head.

I look like crap.

And he'd keep looking like crap until he found something that took his mind off of Karlos. The less that he thought about the Komodo Dragon and his big, fat dick, the better. The less that he thought about getting his face fucked, his throat opened up by that thick shaft, the feeling of those balls bouncing off his chin, the heady rush of barely being able to breathe around that meaty pillar of -

He pinched his ears and gave them a hard tug. Dragging himself out of fantasy-land before his body could start doing that again, he turned from his desk and walked out of the office. The shouts in the distance were still there, but they were the happy shouts of customers enjoying the dancers, not angry shouts of arguments. That still surprised him, even after three days of peace.

He walked down the halls, half-expecting to be ambushed by someone or other. If it wasn't the security staff, then one of the dancers should have leaped out and complained. They regularly tried to get into the office during work hours, and he kept having to dodge them. Not because they didn't have the right to talk to him - they did - but because he knew that if he listened, then he would feel the need to do something. And if he felt the need to do something, that meant...

That meant taking responsibility.

That meant taking action.

That meant consequences.

And that terrified him.

Caleb. I should talk to Caleb.

He hadn't actually done much with the Doberman since the 'incident' that he'd ordered. He knew that the numbers were still coming through, that the manager hadn't been a pain to the rest of the staff since...whatever Karlos had done to him, but he hadn't had the chance to really get into it with the other man. He hesitated as he looked down the hall towards his manager's office, but as much as their past left him nervous and more than a little anxious, he knew that it was his responsibility. If he couldn't take responsibility for this order...

I need to see it. I need to...I need to see what might have happened to me.

That was the real reason he was scared. He knew that he was lucky; compared to some of Karlos's victims, he had come through it with far less damage, and had suffered far less in the long term. He'd seen some of them get picked up by an ambulance and taken to a mental hospital; the doctors had been sure that they were either on drugs or had suffered some horrible mental break at the time. But no. They were just afflicted with the same sexual addiction that he had managed to kick.

He'd heard rumors that Karlos had been doing better. The few reports that he heard about the lion and that vulture that came by suggested that he wasn't so horrible to the customers as he used to be. And...and Lawrence had been the one to order this. He should do the minimum of at least seeing what had happened to his manager.

Thus decided, he walked down the hallway, forcing himself to take one step after another until he found Caleb's office. He hesitated for a split second, then forced himself to knock on the door.

"Come in."

Not daring to wait in case he lost his nerve, Lawrence pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office was smaller - though not as small as some of the dressing rooms - and was sloped with a curving wall on the far side. Caleb was clearly in the middle of his own difficulties, his face red and his hips conspicuously pressed as close to his desk as he could get them. The room utterly stank of cum and pre-cum, and he bit his lips as he realized just how hard the other man had to have taken the punishment.

"What do you want, sir?" Caleb muttered.

"...Sir?" Lawrence managed to stay without stuttering.

"Do you need something, sir?"

That was a first. He'd known that Karlos had done a lot, but he hadn't thought it had gone this far. Caleb had been such a bully, but now -

Another little shift, and both of the Doberman's hands tightened around the end of the desk. A little reminder of just how intense the conditioning was, too. He remembered how hard it had been not to touch himself after his own session, and a shiver ran down his spine once more.

"I w-wanted to check...check in."

He looked for a chair and found one. Pulling it over, he sat down and pressed his legs together. Once, he might have crossed them, but he had lost that confidence long ago. Even now, in front of someone arguably as damaged as he was - if not more - he didn't have the confidence to do that. He put his hands in his lap, ignoring the slight wetness there, and forced himself to meet Caleb's eyes.

It was harder than it should have been, but not as hard as it had once been.

"Karlos told me -"

It was the wrong thing to say. Caleb immediately looked down and away, hissing softly to himself. There were words in that hiss, words that he hadn't expected.

"Good dog. Good dog. I'm a good dog."

And then it was done. Caleb looked up again, his face tight but civil.

"What did Karlos tell you?"

"He told me...he told me that you w-were - mmph." He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. He could speak. He could. "He told me that you...you were going to be...better."

Pauses. Pauses were better than stutters. He could do that.

"That you were...learning...to be good."

"I am good. He told me what he needed; I'm doing what we need. I can take care of stuff. I can make things good again. I swear."

The note of fear and something else - some deeper need - was too obvious to ignore. He wondered if he had sounded like that when he had been fighting against his own conditioning. He remembered how sensitive his mouth had been, how long it had taken him to regain the ability to talk without moaning from how good it felt to move his tongue around. But he remembered that desperation, that fear.

And he saw the same sort of grinding, semi-humping motions going on under the desk that he used to do. He blushed as he remembered that particular desperation, the need to get some stimulation, the way that he had forgotten almost everything in order to keep doing...that.

And sometimes still do...

Embarrassing memories of deep-throated soda bottles came to mind, and he pushed them away again. Better to be aware of them, he supposed, but he could ignore them for now. He could be better than that. A little better. A little bit. Any bit.

"You're...getting the job...done." Pauses. Speak clearly. No stutters. "As long as you...do that job, you'll be fine."

"...You...Mmmph. You give me your word?"

As if his word would matter against Karlos if the Komodo Dragon decided that he wanted to take things for his own again. Lawrence had no illusions about that. For all that Karlos did what he was told to an extent, he was sure that the reptile would just take Caleb if he decided to. Whatever sort of restrictions that the rabbit put down as owner didn't matter against someone that had that sort of power.

But he listened. He listened when I told him that Caleb was useful.

Which Karlos wouldn't have done way back when the Komodo Dragon had 'taught him a lesson.' The bouncer that had fucked his face and shattered his confidence wouldn't have held back with someone that was an even bigger asshole.

Something changed. Somewhere, somehow, Karlos changed.

"I promise. You'll be safe."

"..."

"I promise. As long as you do your job."

"And...if I need..."

If he needed relief. Lawrence could only imagine how intense that need would be; there were no obvious signs of where Karlos would have focused his venom, but he knew how it felt. The constant hunger, the desire to be taken in and made use of, the addiction to the venom and the hyper-sensitivity that it offered: it was something that made it impossible to get off normally. Not without intense therapy, and even that was mostly down to giving you the tools to avoid begging for it constantly.

The grinding was getting worse. He could see Caleb's hips shuffling forward, pressing a boner that was probably more insatiable than ever against the underside of the desk in a desperate attempt to deal with it without being too obvious. Had he ever been this bad?

Yes. Yes, he had. He remembered how he had all but dragged Karlos off the line once, forcing that cock down his throat and fucking his face against it. He'd been crying that night out of desperation and addiction, unable to stop himself, hating himself even as he got what he needed out of the whole thing. Cum down his throat. Hot cock in his mouth and in the back of his neck. Balls...musk...

They were both shuffling in their chairs, now. He cleared his throat, shaking his head and hoping that he hadn't started drooling.

"If you need relief -"

"I don't. I promise. I'm not...I'm not..."

"You are," Lawrence said. We both are, he thought. "But if you need it...Karlos will give it. And I'll tell him...I'll tell him to go light."

If he listened. But he had listened so far. They were both -

"Mmmph..."

Lawrence looked away as Caleb reached under his desk. The unzipping sound of the pants being undone and then hitting the floor followed, and the meaty sound of a hand flying along a shaft got so much louder. The temptation to give him what he thought he needed hit the rabbit hard, and he only barely managed to suppress it with a thought that he hated and craved at the same time.

It won't be the same. It's not Karlos.

"I'll leave you to that."

"Mmmph...I'm a good dog. I promise. I won't...I won't make a mess."

"Talk to...talk to him later. And make sure...the accounting is done."

"I will. I will."

The Doberman's formerly aggressive nature was gone. No, not gone. Curbed, tamed, put to a different use. He had been broken in, and that meant that he would do the numbers game that much better, and the aggression that he had channeled against the other employees was no longer a problem.

Not now. Not for them. Not as long as Karlos was here.

He did what I told him to. Right to the edge of what we can use, but he did what I told him to.

He had to talk to Karlos about that later. Something had changed, and he wasn't sure what, but it had been enough to keep the Komodo Dragon from utterly destroying someone during a punishment. As the bouncer's employer, he should figure out what was going on, and see if it was something that could benefit the club.

And considering the deal that he had in mind with some of the rivals out there -

Softly. Carefully. You don't want them to find out that's how you keep the club secure.

It was the one upside that he had over the other strip clubs. They had bigger accidents and incidents in their clubs, and they had rich men coming in that broke the rules repeatedly before they were caught out and silenced. Even then, only for a night, while those that came to his club were only first-time offenders. They never made that mistake more than once; Michael dealt with them the first time, if they were lucky, and Karlos dealt with them all the other times.

Well, with the males. The females...well, that was a different story.

Shaking his head, he left the office and the masturbating Doberman behind, walking down the hall to the main room. Michael should be on duty, and that meant that he could at least check on the large crocodile and what he was doing with the strip floor.

Not surprisingly, the dancers had most of the attention. A couple of iguanas and a gila monster were striding back and forth on the catwalks, throwing their hips back against the stripper poles, and they were clearly getting more and more into the dances that they were doing. Bras were long gone, and their panties were on the verge of getting thrown to the crowd. The customers were happily ogling the flat chests of the two iguanas and staring needily at the bigger (implanted) tits of the gila monster woman.

Including Michael, it seemed; the big man stood at the front door, and he was checking IDs, but he was also keeping his eyes up on the women that were dancing on the poles. He clearly had a bias there, though a respectful enough one. He had never had a report of bullying or pushing for things from the strippers, not like Caleb had had.

And so far, there hadn't been any other 'incidents' like the one from last week, when the crocodile had come down on a customer too hard and gotten the police called in. Thankfully, that had been simple enough to deflect; the aardvark in question had been harassing one of the girls, and had a record from another strip club of getting too handsy. But if he hadn't -

Lawrence shivered. Michael was an intimidating crocodile, standing well over six feet tall, and that looming long face of his meant that he looked even taller than that. His broad shoulders and thick muscles only increased the intimidating factor, and it took everything he had to keep staring at the other man without dropping his eyes. Particularly when Michael glanced his way.

Talk to him. You have to say you did something. Just warn him or something. Less rowdiness, less roughness with the clients that have to be taken out. Just a little warning.

Lawrence despised himself for how hard it was to walk across the floor, even though he kept to the rear of the tables and other seats where the customers took to watch the strip show. He didn't look at the females himself. He knew that they would flirt a little with him - they had done it before the event with Karlos, and some still tried to get raises by getting his no-longer-there interest - and he didn't need that right now. Eyes forward, he told himself. Eyes forward, focused on the crocodile and on the purpose before him.

The thudding music made it hard to hear most people, but as soon as he'd reached a spot by the door, he could hear Michael's low voice. It was almost a perpetual growl, one that sent a shiver up and down his spine.

"Need something?" the other bouncer asked.

"Just...to talk to...to you." The rabbit hoped that the first 'to' had been smothered by the music. "About the roughness."

"Heh. You want me to be nicer? Going to tell Karlos to stop fucking customers, too?"

"He..."

"He what? Doesn't count because he's not fucking girls?" Michael asked.

"...The ones he fucks...don't talk..."

"So it doesn't matter if he's doing shitty things, so long as it isn't to females. Uh-huh."

Managing to suppress a wince with the greatest of efforts, Lawrence tried a different tack. He pointed at the door frame where several scratch-marks remained from one of the crocodile's forced evictions.

"You are...too rough. Sometimes."

"The girls appreciate it. They like someone looking after 'em."

"Michael -"

"And I ain't been wrong yet."

That was the problem. Michael hadn't been wrong, but there was always a first time, and with how he was so quick, and so unafraid of using his body to make a point with the rough customers that came through, it was going to be a big one when it happened. Someone that came to the club looking for a good time that happened to get the bouncer on a bad day could end up in the hospital.

And we can't afford a lawsuit right now.

"I'm just...just asking," Lawrence said, shuffling his feet as he tried to hold onto what nerve he had left. "If you could...just hold off a bit. Try and be...be a little less..."

"You get Karlos to stop fucking random guys, and maybe I'll do what you say. But right now, I'm not the one that you should be worrying about."

The way that the crocodile punctuated that sentence with a huff and a smirk killed what little bit of heart that the rabbit had left. He nodded, walking away - well, more shuffling away, and at speed - while sighing.

Until just that day, he would have agreed with Michael. The way that Karlos had taken so many boy-toys from the problem customers was a fucking lawsuit waiting to happen in a bigger, more horrifying way than anything that Michael did. After all, the crocodile's roughness was something that one expected when going out to a bar; you learned quick which ones would stand up for the customers and employees, and which ones were all talk, no show. In most situations, he would have been fine. Insurance and the courts would have covered whatever he did.

Except they didn't have much of that anymore. The constant little losses to the other clubs around, particularly the ones that had started reaching out for little deals here and there, had added up to something of a financial crisis. He needed everything to be on the up and up, and with Karlos no longer brain-draining people with his venom during his 'punishments,' he was no longer an issue. Michael was.

"What to do, what to do..."

He left the main floor in a hurry, eager to get back to his office. If he could just get some more cash-flow into the business -

Ugh...I hate this...I hate this...

The offers had come in before. His club had always had competitors, either those that were in different businesses and wanted the real estate, or those that were in the same business and wanted to have an in with some of the clientele. Lawrence had fended them off in the past, but these days...well, the offers that still came in were looking better and better.

Particularly Victor's.

The bear owned another strip club - a gay one - just down the street. Though they didn't cater to the same clientele, both he and Lawrence had been angling for a high-class group that didn't tend to spend their money in two different places. Even if they angled for the straight and gay, there was the mix of the bi and pan crowd in-between, and they had been warring for that.

Victor, unfortunately, had more money to throw around. The big bear had been consistently putting out advertisements, showing off all the amenities that his club had, and even going out of his way to hire some dancers that worked both sides of the aisle, so to speak. Bit by bit, he was peeling away other new clients, as well as some of the old ones.

Lawrence groaned as he reached the door to his office, the rabbit pinching the bridge of his muzzle. He'd held out for a long time, but Victor kept pestering him. If it wasn't about giving the other man the keys to the club - for a price that was well into the millions, to give the other club owner credit - then he was pushing the idea of working together with Lawrence as the junior partner. They were both at the top of their game, both running high-end clubs. If they were partnered up, there would be no niche that they couldn't take advantage of. They'd have both ends of the metaphorical street covered.

Problem is, he'd kick out more and more of the girls...and if he ever found out what Karlos could do...

The very idea was enough to send shivers down his spine. If that asshole ever found out what Karlos could do, the Komodo Dragon would be snapped up in the space of a few seconds, and he seriously doubted that his other bouncer had the self-control to avoid those temptations. The stories of Victor's old life - and maybe not-so-old life - and his connections to the mob and other less savory people had been legend throughout the city. If any of it was true, and if he still had any of those connections, then Karlos would become involved in one hell of a sensual trade.

He slumped forward, resting his head against the office door. He had hoped that all those thoughts would be enough to get him to stop considering the offers. It usually worked. This time, however...

We need something. Maybe he's got a few things he can be flexible on. Maybe I can get him to agree to something small instead of something big. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

The money. The money would keep the club open, and it might take some pressure off if he could at least get enough to advertise to a few new venues. Get some asses in the seats before that fucking bear took even more bites out of their business. Just a -

"Don't see you out of the office too much these days."

All the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and the faint hint of that overly familiar scale musk filled his nose. His cock jumped as much as it was still capable of, not quite rising up, but certainly doing more than any porn could. No flood yet, but he knew that was only a matter of time with the sudden heat in his sac.

"What's up, Lawrence?"

Lawrence. He could hear the unspoken 'bitch' in that voice as he turned around, looking up at Karlos. No, not up. Even though they were closer in height than most of the workers, even though he was able to look the other man in the eye, he always felt like he should be on his knees, looking up, staring up at the more powerful man. His lips trembled before he forced them flat again, but his ears were already sagging down behind his head.

On your knees. Over the back of the desk. Head over the size, mouth wide open, cock spurting cum over your stomach as you came again and again as he face-fucked you. No thinking. Just toy. Just fuck-face. Fuck-face-toy. Fuck, fuck, fuck -

He pinched his wrist and it cut the thoughts off before it could get any worse. He forced his eyes up from the ground, even if it set him to shaking to look Karlos in the eye. Better to look there than further down, at that bulge, or worse.

"I was...l-looking...at making...making..."

"..."

"S-stop staring...Like that."

"Heh."

The Komodo Dragon did stop staring, at least. He looked slightly off to the side, and somehow, that helped. Lawrence took a deep breath, then slowly let it out again.

"I'm going...to make a call. Set up a meeting. With Victor."

"Shit. That's a big step."

"Yes. I want..."

Am I really going to do this? Oh, god, I am. Forgive me.

"I want you to keep...keep an eye...on Michael. And if he makes...if he makes a stupid...stupid mistake..."

"You want me to take care of him."

"...Yes."

"...Holy fucking shit. You're actually telling me to do this. Actually telling me...heh. Wow."

"S-shut up," he muttered, finally giving in and looking away. Actually away, not down at the other man's crotch. "I need to keep...keep the club running. And with the way things are -"

"I get it."

Lawrence patted his shoulder. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind him of being pushed down. He had to lock his legs, forcing his knees to click as he barely managed to stay on his feet as he remembered those past days.

"I'll keep an eye out. And if something happens? I'll do what I did was Caleb...but even better this time. I have ideas for Michael."

...What am I doing? What have I unleashed? he thought as Karlos walked off. God...what is wrong with me...

The End

Summary: Lawrence sets the stage with a little break chapter to give us a heads-up for what's coming next.

Tags: M/M, M/solo, Masturbation, Memory, Oral, Dripping, Pre-Cum, Rabbit, Doberman, Crocodile, Komodo Dragon, Series, Face-Fuck, Corruption, Hypnosis, Horny, Needy,