Dressing room Detention

Dylan winced each time she felt her breasts bounce, and cringed each time she met the gaze of an astonished pedestrian. She dared not stop to cover herself with her legs, for she did not desire a second altercation with the police, all that left her was her hands to cover up her butt, but Dylan was certain that her plump behind still remained unobscured. Ugh! This was ridiculous, she wasn’t going to make any progress like this! She needed to remove these cuffs, and fast.

Ducking into an alleyway, Dylan saw a backdoor held ajar by a fire extinguisher, presumably someone had left for a quick smoke break. Peeping inside, she spotted an empty dressing room. Perfect! Dylan squeezed through the door, accidentally knocking the extinguisher over as she did so, and stepped into the room. As the door slammed shut behind her, she began scanning the tables. When her eyes landed on a decent looking hairpin, she turned around and picked it up, and got to work.

Click!

The cuff on her right wrist opened up, and Dylan stretched her arm in relief. But before she could start work on the left cuff, there was an agitated knock on the back door.

“Hey! Anyone there! Let us back in!”

Crap! That was surely going to draw attention! With the backdoor closed, she was going to have to leg it through the front of the building…

Dylan charged out of the dressing room and made for the nearest exit. She was led down a narrow hall and passed some bewildered stage hands.

Wait, stage hands?

Dylan burst through the curtains and emerged onto a catwalk like stage. Blinded by stage lights, Dylan stumbled and fell to the front of the stage, and heard the right cuff click back into a lock.

Her eyes adjusting, Dylan was horrified to see an audience gazing upon her. She got to her feet and tried to run off the stage, but her arm was tugged behind her, firmly rooting her in place.

Dylan glanced over and saw that her still handcuffed hand was now securely bound to a metal pole in the middle of the stage.

A stripper pole.