To the iceberg lounge

As the spanking reached it’s mortifying peak, the classroom melted away and was replaced by Arctic decor. Plastic icebergs and penguins adorned the scenery as patrons lounged with drinks and milled over casino tables. Catwoman stood in the middle of all this, lost as to where she was and what she was doing. As she tried to focus on vague memories of a funny little man, a classroom, and unbearable shame, a voice snapped her back to reality.

“Hey! Selina!”

She turned to a waitress, who looked at Catwoman incredulously. “You forget your uniform honey?”

Catwoman looked down and saw that she was wearing a similar uniform to the waitress: high heels, a top hat, shirt cuffs and a bow tie. Unlike Catwoman however, the waitress wore a black leotard and thigh high stockings, whereas Selina’s torso and legs were completely naked. “I-but I-“ Selina stammered.

“You stupid girl. Oh well, not like anyone will care. Now get out there and start serving customers!” The waitress, barked, turning the stunned Catwoman around and smacking her ass into motion.

“Yes ma’am!” Selina set off with trays of drinks in both hands, her thoughts of magic imps and classrooms abandoned. As her focus was taken up with precariously balancing the trays, she found no opportunity to cover herself. Good posture was everything in this industry, and she wouldn’t want to lose her job because of her own shame. Against every fibre of her being, Selina continued her work with her bare breasts, bum and crotch fully on display for all to see.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, the owner of the establishment made an announcement on the tanoy:

“Attention everyone!” Boomed Oswald Cobblepot, better known as the Penguin. “One of our waitresses was stupid enough to forget her uniform today. You can’t miss her, she’s the one with only a birthday suit! So if you see her, give her a slap or a pinch on that naked ass of hers! It’ll count as her tip.”

As Catwoman awkwardly began moving from table to table between various slaps and pinches, suppressing squeals and fixing a nervous smile through her blush, Mr Myx watched on from a far off booth. Unbeknownst to the preoccupied Catwoman, the club began to expand, accommodating more and more tables full of patrons that materialised from thin air, meaning that she was effectively trapped in a near infinite maze of spanking, pinching, ogling and worst off all: waitressing work. The mischievous imp grinned at his handiwork.