Carnival conga line

The naked ladies of Pinkwhistle paraded around the crowded carnival in a dancing conga line, shaking their bare bottoms to the beat as they wiggled their way past amused high schoolers and slack-jawed respectable citizens. Miss Trickett led the shamefaced troupe, jiggling her tits and shouting "Keep up the pace, girls!" as her amused employees looked on. A jazz band of clowns followed at a safe distance, giving them something to dance to.

Ben made them do five laps around the big top before releasing the invisible grip he had on them, and letting the girls flee screaming into the darkened spaces between the stalls and the tents. Where clowns waited, of course, their gloved hands ready to grab and squeeze and poke and pie and drag them away to even more humiliating, degrading fates. But that wasn't Ben's problem right now. He was looking at the one woman he hadn't allowed to escape. The one he had special plans for.

"So," he said. "What was that about me not having much use for my dick?"

"I said what I said," muttered Trickett, looking very uncomfortable, her eyeshadow smeared across her coffee-coloured skin. She badly wanted to hide her lithe exotic body with its heavy dark-nippled breasts, full sensuous hips, deep inviting jungle of ebon curls between her welcoming thighs. But right now that wasn't an option.

At Ben's command she hopped up onto a raised wooden platform in front of the big top, a ringmaster's stage with a commanding view of the cleared space down below where an audience was beginning to gather. She could see clowns, firebreathers, jugglers, girls in harlequin costumes, barkers in straw hats of both genders.

"Listen, everyone," she said, squirming wretchedly. "As you know, I'm your boss..."

Whatever she said next was drowned out by the hoots and wolf-whistles. Ben climbed up on the platform beside her, grinning, looking surprisingly handsome in the bright spotlight that shone down on them both. He raised a hand for silence, which he got, immediately.

"Everyone," he said. "This is Miss Trickett, your boss. She's not a very nice boss, am I right?"

There was a chorus of boos and cries of "Shame!" Ben let them die out before turning to Miss Trickett. "Anything to say for yourself?" he asked.

"It's not my fault you're all lazy and incompetent. Maybe if you worked harder I wouldn't have to... oww!" Ben had smacked her bottom. He gave her another smack, for good measure, and said "You're not a very nice person."

"So what?"

"So, I think you should be taught a lesson. And everyone agrees."