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How the Bouncer Entertains Himself

Part 5

for Limemas

by Draconicon

Most people would have been concerned, if not outright terrified, that the church would come down on them after an attack on one of their priests. Karlos didn't have any real concerns about that; for all that the Komodo Dragon had ostensibly 'raped' the Catholic vulture, he doubted that the organization would do anything to make waves. The whole group was a bunch of hypocrites to begin with, and they weren't exactly on the sane side of things. They'd keep quiet to keep anyone else from pointing a finger at them again.

Five days passed, and in those five days, the bouncer kept up his work at the club, waiting for his playthings to come 'round, and more or less just lived normally. Well, as normally as he ever did, at least, which meant many little 'breaks' to enjoy himself in the alley behind the strip club.

He leaned against the brick wall, cock in one hand and a drink in the other. He sipped at his beer, stroking his thumb under the head of his dick as he thought of what he'd do tonight.

"Long as Daniel's not late, getting laid properly tonight..."

And even if the white lion didn't turn up on time, there were always troublemakers of some sort or another. A lot of 'em didn't even need the venom to start offering compensation; he was pretty sure that his reputation was starting to spread, and he'd seen more and more gay and bi guys showing up and paying absolutely no attention to the women. More than a few stared at him and the other bouncers, probably trying to figure out which one was the gay pervert that they'd been hearing about on the grapevine.

Kinda hot, being a sexual celebrity. He'd have to see what that'd get him from the new 'groupies' that were showing up.

He took another sip of his beer, stroking from base to tip, tip to base. Pre-cum oozed slowly, and he groaned under his breath as he savored the heat of his own cock. Fuck, it was fun to just let loose. Silver strings oozed from his tip to the pavement, and it was just so hot that he had to send a picture of it.

Putting the beer down, he pulled out his phone. A couple of taps of the screen, and he had a perfect cock-shot for his sluts. He sent it off, copies going to Daniel and to that vulture priest bitch. He doubted that the lion would see it for a few hours, but Marlon would see it soon enough.

Heh, wonder if he'll open it in church.

Chuckling, he put his phone back in his pocket and got back to jerking. The priest had been quiet since the corruption, though not completely silent. He knew that the bird slut had gotten a new point of view on the world, now that he was completely reliant on ass-fucking to get off, and particularly with the revelation of how much pleasure that brought him. Karlos wouldn't have been surprised if the vulture dropped off the face of the earth, both to try and disappear from the reptile's sight and to get some more pleasure, but from what he'd heard, the priest had managed something else, a transition that he honestly hadn't expected.

Well, if the rumors that he heard were right, of course. He honestly didn't know at this point.

Shrugging, he pushed his cock right to the brink, feeling the edge coming up. He'd been edging for the last ten minutes, taking his time to really enjoy his cock break, but it'd probably be a good idea to just take it to the end now. There was work to be done, and -

CLANG!

The side door to the strip club slammed open, and Sally looked around the corner. The puffy-cheeked iguana whipped her head from side to side before finding him, and he rolled his eyes as he tucked his cock back into his pants. Not out of modesty, of course, but rather out of annoyance and professionalism.

"What is it this time?" he muttered.

"Another asshole."

"Sexual asshole, or just an asshole?"

"The latter; he's fucking with the bartender."

That wasn't so much fun, but he supposed that was just the way that the cookie crumbled. The Komodo Dragon shrugged, cracking his neck as he buttoned up and stepped back into the building. Just because he got his rocks off with those that caused trouble for the girls more often than not didn't mean that he didn't have other responsibilities.

"Where's Caleb?" he asked as he shut the door behind them.

"I don't know; I prefer working with you," the iguana said as she fell in step behind him, tucking a boob back behind her bra. "And you know how it goes. Caleb would be dodging him. I tried to find Michael, but -"

"Fuck Michael."

"Hey, if I can't get you, I need someone."

That was an unfortunate truth, though not one that he liked admitting. He gritted his teeth as he picked up his pace, not quite jogging, but definitely fast-walking through the back hallways of the strip club. The doors to some of the dressing rooms were open, and some of the more exhibitionist VIP customers had their doors open for their shows, but that was immaterial to the bouncer. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it.

The thud-thud-thud of the bassy song coming over the speakers hit him in the chest as he reached the main room. Strobe lights played over the tables and the catwalks as the girls did their job, but Karlos was already flicking his eyes towards the bar at the back of the room. He spotted someone causing trouble, some little rat freak that was leaning against the bar and all but shouting at the bartender, a gila monster girl that was barely standing up for herself -

And then Michael popped in.

He growled under his breath as the crocodile stepped up to the bar, all black suit and black sunglasses. He looked like some fucking bodyguard out of a movie rather than a professional doing a simple job, and he grabbed the rat by the shoulders.

"...Looks like Michael beat you to it," Sally said from over his shoulder.

"Fucking hell."

"Well, he was in the room," she said. "Don't worry, you're still my favorite."

Karlos shook his head as the club's other bouncer took the rat from the bar, physically lifting him off his feet and carrying him like a piece of luggage toward the door. The crowd laughed as the crocodile made a show of carrying the bitch out of the club, even going so far as to give him a literal heave-ho through the door and out onto the pavement. Some of the crowd even applauded him for it.

The Komodo Dragon even joined in, though his was pure sarcasm as he shook his head.

"Fucker's going to get the boss a lawsuit if he keeps this up," he muttered.

"At least he's getting it done," Sally said, shaking her head. "And...well, you have to admit, his style's got a way of getting the message across."

"And mine doesn't?"

"Well, yours is more...secret. This gets a little more public."

The annoying thing was, she wasn't entirely wrong. His punishments were probably more effective on the creeps that he caught, but it wasn't as if the punishments were public enough to serve as reminders of what'd happen to anyone else. At the same time, he wasn't throwing people on their face and risking some sort of assault charge every time that he took a step. Sure, he had a different risk, but that was minimal; nobody was going to come after him with a rape charge when they were the ones cumming their brains out and later on-record asking him for more.

But it didn't stop him from being annoyed as fuck that there was still a point to be made there. His rival, his coworker, was still a pain in the ass.

Michael glanced at him from across the room, smirking from under his sunglasses. He flashed three fingers for three fuckers that had been booted so far tonight, and Karlos shook his head, flicking a pair back. The Komodo Dragon was going to have to up his game if he was going to -

"KARLOS!"

"...Fucking hell, there's Caleb..."

"Will you look at the time?" Sally muttered, her voice drifting towards a quieter tone. "I think I have a set in a minute, so I think I'm going to -"

"You get gone; I'll take care of the bitch."

He shook his head as the Doberman stomped across the room. Unlike Michael, who he could at least respect for the effort that he put into keeping the club safe in his own way and taking care of himself with all the physical prowess that he had, Caleb was a bitch. The Doberman was lean, yes, and he wasn't out of shape, but the way that he dressed just screamed upper-class twit. He looked like some prep-jock that had just gotten out of college and thought that he knew everything about how the world worked, and he was going to do you a favor and explain it all to you in the process of telling you how you were supposed to live your life.

It wouldn't have been as bad if the Doberman actually knew how to run a club, but he was more of a pain in the ass than anything else. Conflict-averse with customers and conflict-seeking with his employees, to start, Caleb was always looking to pick a fight, always looking for a way to get someone written up, always looking for some way to cut the bottom line and make a bigger profit for the club. It didn't matter that his way was also going to run the whole fucking enterprise into the ground if he didn't start laying off; all that he saw were numbers and his own self-importance.

As the Doberman loomed over him by two inches, he was sure that Caleb kept hoping that he'd cower like some of the other employees. Some of the waiter-boys often did, and the women were split between those that were willing to bend over for him in hopes of keeping his anger at bay and those that just didn't have time for his shit. Michael was willing to get into shouting matches with the asshole, and Karlos?

Karlos crossed his arms over his chest as the Doberman tried the looming trick. He arched an eyebrow at the second shouted repetition of his name. And when his manager tried to poke his chest with a finger, trying to make a point, he just slapped it away.

"Where the hell were you?" the dog growled, undeterred.

"Having my break."

"Your fucking break - you mean you were -"

"You want to advertise what I do on my break, Caleb?" he asked, glancing around the room. "Looks like a straight crowd tonight."

"..."

"Where the hell were you, hmm?" Karlos nodded back at the bar. "That wasn't anything serious; you didn't need me or Michael to take care of that little shit-stain. That was your job to stand up for your employees."

"No. My job is to make sure that this club keeps running. That's what Lawrence hired me to do, and that's what I'm going to do. No matter how much you keep trying to get paid for nothing, you fucking -"

"If that next word starts with an 'f,' pretty sure that I can hear a lawsuit coming," he said, smirking.

"..." Caleb leaned in, almost nose to nose with the reptile. "You think that just because you were here before your boss hired me that you have some sort of tenure here? You think that you can just do whatever you want, and we'll keep paying your paycheck? I don't know what you have over that rabbit, but one day, you're going to find yourself in hot water, and I'm going to be so happy to shove you under the surface, you little shit."

It wasn't the first time that Caleb had threatened his job. He was pretty sure that it was mostly down to the Doberman being intimidated by him, not to mention the fact that Karlos had been here the longest of any of the non-stripper employees. That, and the fact that he was gay. Caleb had always struck him as the sort of man that was hellbent on believing that a gay man couldn't control his dick, and that anyone with a cock was fair game to someone that was gay.

Not that I'd usually touch you with yours, but...hate sex could be fun.

It was the only way that he could imagine any sort of 'relations' with the other man. He grimaced trying to think of anything purely consensual with the Doberman. For all that he had a decent body, that personality was repulsive.

"You get me, Karlos? Do your fucking job, or -"

"I already do mine more than you do yours, Caleb. Besides. Job's done, anyway."

"Watch your mouth, you little..."

"Hmmm? Little what? Little dick? Look in the mirror, prick."

"Fuck you. I have better things to do than talk to you."

"Same here."

Caleb growled as he stomped off, leaving Karlos to deal with the confused stares from the tables near them. The Komodo Dragon rolled his eyes.

"Managers. What the hell can you do?"

They nodded, going back to watching the hot, scaly girls on the poles in front of them. With that taken care of, Karlos stepped back to the private halls in the rear of the building, shaking his head as he walked along.

Caleb was more than just a simple asshole. He was an asshole with power, and one that was rapidly getting out of hand. He'd tried to keep him at bay with some humor, then with disdain, but the more that he refused to break, the more that the Doberman seemed willing to escalate. The asshole probably needed everyone to see him as the person in charge, or at the very least, as a threat to them. That was probably why he didn't give Michael as much trouble; the crocodile engaged, fought back, which meant that the Doberman at least felt like he was being considered a worthwhile adversary.

Karlos didn't do that. He didn't think that his manager deserved that sort of dignity.

What he did deserve was a great deal of contempt, and a much heavier hand. The whole club was starting to take a beating from the constant in-fighting that the asshole kept starting, and that meant that he needed to go over Caleb's head. And that meant going to Lawrence.

Fucker better listen this time.

As he walked down the hall to the owner's office, his phone buzzed in his pocket again. He pulled it out, saw that he had a text message, and smirked to himself as he opened it.

"Heh, Daniel, you're such a bitch-slut..."

The white lion had managed a picture from the plane's bathroom, showing himself with a throbbing hard cock, stiff and eager, and oozing pre-cum. But, of course, just pre-cum. All the saliva venom that he had pumped that bitch full of was keeping him from getting off without some help, and that was all the better. He was showing off, grinning in the picture, and had captioned it at the bottom:

Can't wait to get fucked silly again. Can't wait to feel your mouth.

Anyone else would have been insulted at a bottom saying that, but Daniel was a special case. It wasn't just that he was Karlos's slut; he was his personal property. And that included the lion's throbbing dick. That thing came when he told it to, and did nothing but what he asked. It was his to play with, and that included going down on it from time to time, teasing the poor kid until he was completely cock-brained. It was fun.

Other times, he would have sent a reply. As it was, he needed to talk to the owner, but he made a mental note to get ready for his bitch. The fact that he could send a picture meant that he'd probably landed, home from the business trip on the other side of the country, and was probably making his way down to the club as they spoke. He put it out of his head, making sure that he was ready for the encounter with the rabbit in the big office at the back of the building.

He rested his hand on the doorknob, listening through the crack. The only thing he heard was the sound of tapping keys and a few other, small details that were not really pertinent. Main thing was that he didn't hear the sound of fapping and grunting from the other side, which meant that he wasn't interrupting anything too intense. He pushed the door open without knocking.

Lawrence was a brown-furred rabbit with a pair of white spots over his eyes, making him look like he was wearing glasses all the time. He yelped as soon as Karlos shoved the door open, all but leaping under his desk before he caught himself. The Komodo Dragon chuckled as the rabbit held a hand over his chest.

"Don't do that...you...you asshole," he muttered.

"Looks like you're getting your voice back; all that therapy must have helped," Karlos said, shaking his head. "Usually the most the mouth-fucked can do is start begging for dick down their throats again."

"D-don't. I...Mmmph. I had to spend a lot of money to unfuck that."

"Unfuck the face-fuck, heh."

"Shut...up..."

The red cheeks of the rabbit all but begged him to do the opposite. Back when Karlos had first been hired, Lawrence had been one of 'those' owners, the sort that were always in your business and making things more difficult than they needed to be. The rabbit was one of the worst micro-managers that he had ever seen, and the fact that he was gay had sat oddly with the bunny. Something about not liking the idea of gay men that weren't interested in the women that they were protecting or something like that.

A few drinks later, and he'd gotten the rabbit under his desk, and that had gone surprisingly well. He remembered just how horny the rabbit had been to have dick down his throat, how he'd cum just from the feeling of having someone fuck his face, how there'd been such a mess in the boss's pants. Good times, really, and not enough of those in his memory at the moment.

"What do you want?" Lawrence muttered, settling back in his chair. "Just another hour of humiliation or something?"

"Heh. Fun, but no." He nodded over his shoulder. "Caleb."

"Can we talk about him later?"

"Are you ever going to do anything about him? That bitch is going to sink your club into the ground, and you know it."

"..."

"Oh, fuck, you do know it, and you're not doing anything about it?"

"...He's a yeller," the rabbit muttered, looking down. "And he's not...that bad. Not really."

Fucking hell.

He grumbled under his breath, rubbing his forehead. All things considered, he supposed he should have expected something like this. The sheer damage that he had done to the club's owner back then had probably not done anything for his assertiveness. As a matter of fact, there was a jumpiness to the rabbit these days, always on edge, always keeping his distance. Probably the therapy had only done so much for his mouth, and he was afraid of someone knocking him down a couple of pegs, but at the same time, this was getting out of hand.

"You realize that he's just a fucking bully, right?" Karlos asked. "I don't care what kind of degree he's got from whatever school he came from, but the prick's a fucking bully. He's going after everyone, and the only ones that don't take it are the older strippers. They'll throw it back in his teeth, same as Michael, but he's getting worse."

"How?"

"Well, he just let someone nearly terrify your bartender out of the building."

That was exaggerating just a bit, considering that Michael had been in the room - much as he hated that fucker sometimes - but it had an affect. Lawrence blinked at the revelation, cocking his head to the side.

"Let him...how?"

"Well, Caleb was there. Michael was nowhere in sight, and that bitch Doberman certainly wasn't taking any steps. You know that he's let customers get drunk and fight it out, right? Like, seriously drunk, illegally drunk, just to get more money in?"

"..."

"Well, this time he was letting this asshole shout at the bartender loud enough that I could hear it on the other side of the club. I was in the back halls, and I could hear him all the way from there. He was loud. And the bartender? She was about ready to collapse; I saw her. She was fucking terrified, and your manager wasn't doing a damn thing."

"I...I see..."

"So, here's the question. Are you going to do anything about Caleb? Or are you going to be that mouth-bitch again and make me do all the work?"

There was no immediate answer from the rabbit, but the fact that he at least looked down at his desk and tapped his fingers was encouraging. At least the boss could think about it rather than pretend to ignore it for a little bit longer. Karlos crossed his arms, leaning back against the door, making it clear that he wasn't leaving the room without an answer of some sort or another.

"...Are you...sure that he's...not going to change?" Lawrence asked.

"You think -"

"I want...I want to know...that you're sure," the rabbit said.

Karlos blinked as the owner looked him right in the eyes. There was something new there, something that he hadn't seen for months. Not since the rabbit had first hired him, as a matter of fact. There was a hint of the old owner there. Not enough to actually stand up to a bully or an asshole, but at least someone that could acknowledge their existence and the problems that they created.

He smirked.

"Heh. Okay. You want my personal, professional opinion?"

"Yes."

"Then I think that Caleb is heading for a crash, and soon. He's been trying to browbeat everyone in the club, every employee that we got. The only ones that can stand up to him are the ones with experience and confidence, and Michael's just arguing with him. One day, those two are going to get into a fist-fight, and I got my money on the crocodile. Don't you fucking tell him I said that, but I do. The younger girls are either letting him fuck 'em - financially, or otherwise - and the older ones are telling him to fuck off, which is only gonna work for so long.

"Me? I'm pissing him off by refusing to engage on the same level. He hates me, thinks that I'm going to come for him, but I wouldn't do him with yours if it wasn't for the fact that I'd have a hell of a good time putting him in his place. That said? Someone's gonna have to do it, eventually, and they're gonna have to do it in a way that doesn't get the whole club sued into the ground because someone got too rough with it."

"...Which means...someone like you."

Karlos was wondering if they were going this way; it wasn't the first time that the boss had considered siccing him on someone, but it was the first time that they had gone this far with it out loud. Usually, the Komodo Dragon read between the lines and figured it'd be the best way to handle the situation, and Lawrence just stayed quiet about the whole thing. This time? This time, things were going in a different direction, and having someone officially approving of one of his little punishments was a whole new experience.

He kinda liked it.

"Someone like me'd be able to take care of it, yeah. And if I did it right, little fucker would be a broken bitch."

"Could you keep him from losing...you know...everything?" Lawrence asked.

Karlos shrugged.

"No, I mean...can you? If you do it right?"

"If I have the time? Yeah, probably. People usually get fucked over because I have to do it quick before someone else comes around to notice. But I got a couple of bitches that've only lost a bit, these days, and they're still mostly themselves. Mostly."

"Do that."

"...What?" He blinked, a slow smile crossing his face. "Heh, did you just get the stones to order me to fuck over your manager? Fucking hell, looks like that therapy did some wonderes for you, Mouth-Bitch."

"Nnngh...don't...don't call me that."

"Just saying. Look at you. Couple months back, you couldn't even look me in the eye without whimpering and remembering how it felt to be on your knees, sucking away at my dick and begging me to fuck your throat. Now? Calling out hits on your own employees to get them in line. Fuck, boss. I kinda like this side of you."

"Don't...don't talk about it," the brown-furred bunny muttered, adjusting his tie. "I mean...seriously...don't talk about it. It's bad enough that I'm thinking about it. I don't want anyone else to know -"

"That you got a weapon. Yeah, I got it. Alright...an order to fuck over and fix the manager. Good thing I like a challenge."

"Is there...anything else?"

There was clear tension in the rabbit's jawline, and he just knew that the bitch was resisting the urge to call him 'master' again. They'd indulged more than once when he had first come 'round, and it was still hot to see the results. That was half the reason that he just strutted into the office sometimes. He wanted to catch the owner off-guard and see how he reacted to being called out on this stuff again. It always gave the Komodo Dragon at least a semi-hard-on. The results of his venom really was just fucking hot.

"Nah, that's everything."

Gesturing for him to leave with a nod at the door, Lawrence returned to his computer. Karlos favored the rabbit with a little crotch-grope to show off - just enough to get the rabbit whimpering - before he turned and left.

As the door shut behind him, he couldn't stop grinning. He had official permission to bring that asshole down a couple of pegs, and that meant that he could go all out. No more hiding, no more surreptitious drugging. He could go right for whatever he wanted with Caleb, as long as he kept the man's general skills. He just needed to break him down, make him a bit slutty, make sure that he understood his place in the pecking order. Oh, this was going to be good.

He already had a hard-on from hell at the thought of it, and he groped himself as he imagined that bitch on his knees, his lips shiny with some of the spit-venom, already eager to have a cock thrusting over his tongue. Oh, he could just imagine that Doberman taking a cock too well. Caleb's constant fights were the sign of someone that really didn't know how to be himself, but if he couldn't figure out how to be confident without beating someone else down, he was going to learn how to take a beating. And Karlos was the lucky son of a bitch that would get to do the beating.

Not tonight...not tonight...

Tempting as it might be, he knew that he needed to plan this out properly, take his time to really get into it. Oh, there were so many ways that he could make this happen, and he looked forward to actually thinking it through. Maybe he could -

Buzz buzz.

Another text. Karlos picked up the phone and flicked it open, only to see a message from Marlon. And a picture, too. He flicked it open -

"Pffft..."

Despite the situation, he couldn't help but laugh. The vulture had sent him a mirror picture. The priest probably wasn't going to be doing anything serious with that butt-plug up his ass, particularly with the cross on the bottom of it upside-down and looking entirely too blasphemous for his own good. That said, it was pretty damn hot to see that feathery rump spread, and particularly knowing that the priest was still getting off on the idea of getting butt-fucked nearly a week after their last encounter .

Of course, without some sort of therapy, that was a guarantee with any of his lovers over time, but it was still hot to see. He shook his head, tucking his phone back in his pocket as he walked back to the main room of the strip club.

Sally was on stage, dancing her dance. She had her ass out, shaking, twerking, dropping down so that her cheeks almost hit the floor before rising back up. Her tail was high and her cheeks were fat, and it was almost enough to make him forget that she was a female. Almost, almost, but not quite; even as she flashed him a smile from the stage, knowing he was watching, he shook his head.

There were times when he swore that she hoped that he was secretly bi rather than gay or something. Maybe it was some kind of crush, or maybe she was the kind of woman that was just attracted to the kind of guy that she couldn't actually have. Either way, it meant that he was always juggling an interesting situation when he was around her.

Fun, though. And she had a nice ass.

"Karlos!"

He blinked, tilting his head toward the voice, and blinked again as he saw the vulture sitting at one of the tables further from the catwalks. The Komodo Dragon shook his head as he walked over to the - now, clearly, former - Catholic priest, sitting down at the table. What had once been a fine suit with a couple extra vestments had been replaced with a simple jacket and tie, and a scarf with rainbows wrapped around the vulture's bald neck. He looked the other man up and down, holding back a laugh.

"Okay, well, that wasn't what I expected you to do with your life."

"What can I say? Once I figured out the joys of anal sex, there wasn't much I could do but join the community," Marlon said, shaking his head. "And there's some markets for a gay man in some churches, at least. And there's always those that are curious about what they really are, and having someone in the ministry that's open to letting them experiment would go a long way towards helping them sort themselves out."

"Public slut, huh?"

"Don't worry; I don't cum to them. Only you."

"Good...good."

He felt oddly relieved at that. He hadn't expected to feel...he didn't know what to call it, other than 'strange', at the way that the most recent victims of his venom had been acting. By taking it slower, doing it in stages, and making sure to hit them with it in a different way, they had maintained greater individuality than some of his past victims. They were more friendly, too, more willing to stay nearby rather than just driven by pure lust. Maybe there was something happening with his venom, or maybe they were just special.

Well, we'll find out when I try it on Caleb...

Buzz buzz.

A glance at his phone confirmed that Daniel was on his way, and he chuckled under his breath.

"What is it?" Marlon asked.

"Just my hook-up for the night. He'll be here in forty-five minutes."

"Oh, my. Don't suppose that you have time to pull my plug and give me a reason for it before he gets here?"

Karlos arched an eyebrow, but the slow-growing smile on his face was all the answer that the vulture needed. The bouncer tossed his head back toward the hallway.

"Room 6."

"Got it."

He was pretty sure that they had time for a quickie. And more to the point, he doubted that Daniel would mind sharing him. After all, the lion slut was damn eager for anything that he could get.

And he was curious how the priest's asshole was going to feel after the other man had had five days to start learning how to use it properly...

The End

Summary: A day in the life of Karlos the Bouncer.

Tags: M/solo, Texts, Pics, Komodo Dragon, Crocodile, Doberman, Rabbit, Past Encounters, Past Lovers, Masturbation, Nudity, Strip Club, Series, Characters, Twerking, Priest, Pleasure, Teasing,