Let the barmaid take pictures

This is too much fun to stop. You sit back and watch as Rachael chases Banti around the bar, laughing heartily and snapping pictures on her picture box as Banti squeals and does her best to cover herself.

"Aw, poor bouncing Banti in her birthday suit! What a shame if somebody showed these pictures to all the boys in town!"

"No! Rachael! Stop, I'm serious!"

"Where's your panties, Banti? Why are you hiding? It's not like you have much to cover up!"

"My breasts are not small, you...

"Looks like someone's sensitive about her small breasts!"

"No!"

In her haste to get away, Banti slips on some spilt beer and tumbles down onto you, planting her bottom directly on your lap. It's too good a chance to pass up. You grab Banti's arms, holding them by her sides to prevent her from covering up as she sits in your lap, squirming. Daisy grabs her legs and pries them apart. Rachael approaches with the picture box, grinning evilly.

"Come on, guys," Banti protests, wriggling around, trying to get free of your grip. She's still smiling, like she can see the funny side of this, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't much rather be on the other end of the picture box. "You've had your fun, right? Hey, can't we go upstairs, instead of..."

"Who wants me to take pictures of Banti's pussy?"

"Oh, come on!"

Rachael takes her time lining up shots of Banti as she sits there with her breasts bare and her legs spread, her arms by the side, hair dishevelled and a plea for mercy in her eyes, totally revealed to the lens. After she's gotten several good full-body shot, she holds the picture box between Banti's legs and takes some zoomed-in, high-resolutions pictures of her vagina.

"I'm going to hang a triptych on the bar wall," she says. "Your wet pussy, your blushing face and your tiny little breasts. I'll call it Banti Gets Beaten."

"Well," you say, "she did get beaten."

"Shut up!"