Page 8 of Playette


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Well, fuck me, he’s one of those. I’ve met many men like him in my job. Men who like to control the woman, not just sexually but emotionally as well. Pity for him, I won’t play his silly games.

“Let’s drink first. Then we can play.”

The ass throws the contents down his throat, and then chucks the glass bottle behind me. It smashes on the wall and shatters, some of the remaining liquid running down the wall as the glass tinkles onto the carpet. If I stepped back right now, the glass will crunch under the tips of my heels.

“Bitch… strip. Now.”

I do as he says, needing to occupy him for just a little longer. He reaches for me when my tits are free and his mouth slides over one of my nipples, he bites and I clench my teeth together to stop myself from screaming. “You like it.” It’s not a question, it’s his fact. He pushes a hand up my skirt, slips a finger in and pushes hard. I let him play with me, let his filthy hands which smell of cigarettes and cum roam my body. It’s cringe-worthy, but my mind is only registering one result—the end of him.

“Why won’t you let me play?”

“Bitch, did I ask you to speak?” He pushes his finger in painfully, to the point where I jolt back. He keeps me in place though with his other hand. Clenching my teeth as hard as I can, I play the role he wants me to play.

“I’ll please you. Don’t you want me to please you?”

He smiles up at me, his mouth making me internally cringe. He pulls his finger out and lays back. His cock still rock hard. “Ride it, bitch.”

I touch my skirt, looking up at him through my fake pink hair bangs. “Don’t you want to watch?” I ask, his eyes sparkle as he sits back on his elbows while eyeing me.

“I’m going to watch you touch yourself, then I’m going to take every hole you have and break you. Do you understand?”

I nod my head, fluttering my lashes at him.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, bitch?” He strokes his cock again. This guy is fucking dumb, and thinks he’s king fucking shit. No wonder he’s in the room playing with himself alone, while talking to some online sex worker, while the other boys are having the real thing.

“Oh yes, big boy, I like that.” My skirt drops to the floor, and I turn around bending over in my G-string. He has a good view and I can hear his hand working even faster.

“Touch yourself. Now.”

I do, my fingers are better than his disgusting ones. And this whole thing just makes me feel dirty now, but I have a mission. Pushing my panties to the side, I slip a finger in and keep bending over watching him from between my legs as I finger fuck myself.

“Harder, bitch.”

I speed up my rhythm, while he hastens his hand.

“You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes, big boy. So dirty.” I look away because otherwise he’ll see my eye roll as I smirk. When I look back my fingers pause at the sight of him. Mack’s hand has stopped, and his pupils are dilated and his eyes are bulging. I smile, removing my finger and wiping it on his pants, before I pull my skirt down.

“My legs. What the fuck?” He punches his leg a few times while I smile. Then he punches the other one like the dimwit he is. He goes for his phone, but I move fast picking it up and when I look at the screen I see the guy next door with the two girls.

Fuck! He must have some cameras in the rooms or something.

“Are you spying?” I ask while raising an eyebrow.

“What the fuck, bitch. Give me back my phone.” His cock’s gone flaccid and I smile. “Why are you smiling like that? Go. Get help. You stupid bitch.”

I crouch down carefully so as to not touch any of the glass. Reaching for the bottle that touched my lips, I wipe it down thoroughly and place it back on the table. When I turn back to him, it’s like he’s finally registering what’s happening.

“You aren’t the smartest cookie in the jar, are you, dear?”

“You.” He goes to lift his hands but they flop like a seal’s flippers. “What did you give me?”

I walk over to him, sitting on the side of his bed, and quickly look around to make sure there isn’t a camera in here. That would be bad. Luckily for me, I’ve picked the pervert’s room and he clearly doesn’t like an audience on himself.

“You’re quite the filthy man, aren’t you?”

“Bitch.”

I laugh. “I was going to do this quick… cut your throat, maybe.”

“They’ll kill you.”

When I look at him with my green eyes, I grin widely. “I know they will. But first, how many will I get to take with me? You will merely be the first of many.”

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