I told this dumb bitch to put on a short skirt as a hostess but she doesn’t know about the hidden camera

Tits Macabre: The Skirt Cam Scandal

It was a Tuesday evening at the exclusive Szybki Czar wine bar in Warsaw. business was brisk, and the patrons were enjoying the freshly uncorked Cabernet Sauvignon and wealthy networking. Among the float was Ania initiation as the newest hostess. Though a bit on the naive side, this 19-year-old university student needed extra cash. Her new job involved greeting guests, taking coats, and refilling bread baskets. Little did she know that she would soon be the star of a hidden cam video that would bring Szybki Czar to its knees.

As Ania finished giving directions to a lost couple, her supervisor, the dour middle-aged Mr. Kowalski, approached. Peering down at his lackluster new hire through thick-rimmed glasses, he made a suggestion in his gruff voice.

“Ania, I know I told you to wear a skirt for your uniform, but I think the one you selected is entirely inappropriate. It seems more suited for a nightclub than our establishment. I’ll guide you to our extensive costume room to find something more…stylish,” he said, striding towards the double doors.

Ania nodded submissively and followed Kowalski through the maze of halls, her platform wedges clicking rhythmically on the reinforced concrete. A few minutes later, they arrived at the costume room door. Kowalski produced a skeleton key and unlocked it.
In the musty room filled with feather boas and retire-angle wigs, Kowalski rummaged through racks, muttering to himself. He pulled out a black micro-mini skirt that was so short it barely covered Ania’s panties. “Here we are! Much better.”

Ania hesitated, tugging at the hem. “I’m not sure, Mr. Kowalski. It’s pretty revealing.”

Kowalski’s eyes glinted through his lenses. “Don’t worry. It’s just until we get a new uniform printed. Now let’s see it on you!”

Ania reluctantly removed her long pencil skirt and slipped on the tiny scrap of fabric. She tugged it down, trying to cover more of her thighs, but it rode right back up. She blushed deeply.

Kowalski approached, fussing with his bowtie. “Excellent! Much more presentable. Oh, and we’ve had some troublesome guests sneak in hidden cameras before, so be on the lookout. But I’m sure a wise girl like you would spot one.”

As Ania’s trainer walked away, she glanced nervously around the room, wondering if Kowalski was playing a joke on her. There was nothing suspicious, just wigs and racks. Sighing, she emerged, clicking her way to the bar, tugging ineffectively at the micro-mini riding up her supple thighs.

Every time she met a guest’s eyes, Ania felt a flush creep over her face, imagining their gaze lingering on her near-naked legs. By the end of the shift, powerful thighs ached from spirited walking in the too-small platforms. Ania was relieved to clock out, wincing with each step to the back room. The skirt did nothing to conceal the wobble of her walk. She almost wishing she had gone commando.

As she changed back into her vintage A-line dress, Ania heard a faint click behind her. She whipped around just in time to see Mr. Kowalski shut the door to his private office, his eyes smoldering with perverse glee. He flashed a sinister grin before he disappeared inside. Ania shivered, worn out and disturbed by his leer. What was that all about?

Little did the ignorant girl know, that her short skirt and gleaming thighs were captured on hidden camera, thanks to Mr. Kowalski’s twisted setup. He had a raging hard-on from watching her all night, unable to stop staring at her scooped neckline and the cleavage threatening to spill out of her too-small uniform. He knew that revealing footage would destroy her naive reputation if it ever got out.

Kowalski reached under his desk and flicked the joystick of a media console. Ania’s video emerged on a 10-inch screen, followed by 50 other young women in compromising situations-“uniforms” that exposed their lush bodies. Kowalski gripped his crotch, zooming in on each victim’s tits, capturing every glisten of sweat and every ripple of thighs. He would save this, to blackmail and humiliate them later. For now, he closed his eyes, reliving every sultry moment as his hand crept inside his trousers.

The pervert clicked the joystick back to Ania’s video, watching her throw off that tantalizing micro-mini with an angry growl. Those long legs revealed the string of her thong riding up over her plump ass. He knew she went commando now that her leg hair was fully visible. The image cut abruptly as she changed and walked out.

Mr. Kowalski unzipped his pants, stroking himself with a devious grin as his desk clocked 1 AM. He’d make good money this week. With deft manipulations, he transferred Ania’s video to five USB sticks before ejecting them into secure drop safes. He paused the video at her cleavage, adjusting himself before plugging in headphones for another listen.

Little did Mr. Kowalski know, Ania already planned to report him tomorrow to the appropriate authorities. She would not be victimized by a dirty old man. To other young women playing coy, she served as a warning not to put up with bullshit from any so-called “supervisor.”

As the next batch of evening girls emerged in their revealing micro-midis for their shift briefing, Ania flashed a sly smile. Power was on her side, and she’d keep it that way. No more deadbeat perverts would exploit her again. She stifled a yawn, slipping into her coat to walk home in triumph.

Her tiny skirt fluttered as she strode out to continue her walk. Seeing how good they looked in it made her feel like Alice in an X-rated Wonderland.