She Laughs Without Fear of the Future

She Laughs Without Fear of the Future

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She Laughs Without Fear of the Future
She Laughs Without Fear of the Future
Sneak Peek #8 "Dancing Into Deliverance"-Returning to the Club...Damaged/Money's Lie

Sneak Peek #8 "Dancing Into Deliverance"-Returning to the Club...Damaged/Money's Lie

More dark things here. Use discretion before reading.

Andi Pigott Martin's avatar
Andi Pigott Martin
Jan 13, 2025
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She Laughs Without Fear of the Future
She Laughs Without Fear of the Future
Sneak Peek #8 "Dancing Into Deliverance"-Returning to the Club...Damaged/Money's Lie
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When I returned to work, things had changed. I had changed. I looked at the guys differently. I despised them. All of them! They were all the same. Lust-filled idiots. And it was that Lust that had taken something from me.

I noticed a strange, new phenomenon when the guys would tip me on stage. Every once in a while, as a dollar bill or slut buck was being placed in the hip of my g-string, I would feel a sudden burn, as though someone had burned me with a cigarette. I would look and there was no cigarette…I had been touched. It was skin…and it burned.

“What on earth is going on?” I wondered. Was it psychosomatic? Did I now hate the guys so much that an accidental touch would feel like a burn? What a bizarre thing! And it only happened in the club. Never in real life…except with my step-dad, when I was a child.

Most of the guys already knew not to touch me. If they did it once, I would semi-playfully ask them to give me the hand that had touched me. They always did. I would take that hand, turn it palm side down, and give the back of their hand a quick smack.

Most were bright enough to take a hint and thought it playful enough to not take offense. Some were not. A second touch would get a stern warning that they wouldn’t like what would happen the next time they touched me. A third touch and I would quickly grasp that hand and sharply twist it in a way that could easily break their wrist if necessary. I never broke wrists, but did inflict enough pain to bring guys to their knees begging me to stop. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again! I promise!” No one ever went past the third warning.

Not long after I noticed the strange burning sensations with the accidental touches, I began having strange thoughts and visions as I would speak to the guys. I remember thinking how nice it would feel to push one guy down the stairs. His only offense? Just flirting…like they all did.

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