Lisa Edelstein felt so stupid, dancing in her living room in nothing but a black bra and panties. But she had no choice. The voice on her intercom told her to do it, and she obeyed.
"Are you satisfied?" she asked, rolling her hip upward before swinging her arms down.
"Not a bit. Sex sells, but I need something more for a good payday. Otherwise nobody's going to care about pictures of some 50 year old skank."
She cursed under her breath, but kept rhythm with the porno music blasting from her stereo. Whoever this man was, he had her banking, her logins, her car, everything except her house and dog. Why he targeted her, she would never know. She only knew that somewhere beyond the tree line, he had cameras rolling to capture every moment for the highest bidding tabloid.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"Humiliate yourself. Naked whores are a dime a dozen, but everyone loves an excuse to ridicule one."
Under his direction, she shimmied and swayed into the kitchen. Despite how this sucked, it brought back a little of her celebutante days to bust her moves. Silver lining in everything. Opening the door, she pulled out a carrot and headed for the bathroom. At least here, she could slow her roll, though his orders weren't very kind. Bright rouge lipstick, thickly applied on her lips and into circles on her cheeks. She added BABY MAKER to her belly, before slipping out of her panties and into new ones with strips strategically cut from its back. Then to seal the deal, she stuck on a red rubber nose. By the time she emerged, she looked every bit a dumb slutty clown.
But as bad as all that was, the last order made her screech in outrage. "You want me to WHAT?!"
"You heard me. Do it."
Turning, she bared her ass to the windows and stuck her carrot right up it between the slits. Each rough inch made her grunt and screw her face until its bushy green stem remained like a tail.
"God this hurts," Lisa complained.
"Cost of business. Or I could send proof you committed tax fraud over to the IRS. What do you think will happen to your ass in jail?"
"Okay, okay! You win."
Clapping her hands against her butt cheeks, she wagged it for her blackmailer's cameras. She had a feeling this would be a long night.
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Lisa Edelstein felt so stupid, dancing in her living room in nothing but a black bra and panties. But she had no choice. The voice on her intercom told her to do it, and she obeyed.
"Are you satisfied?" she asked, rolling her hip upward before swinging her arms down.
"Not a bit. Sex sells, but I need something more for a good payday. Otherwise nobody's going to care about pictures of some 50 year old skank."
She cursed under her breath, but kept rhythm with the porno music blasting from her stereo. Whoever this man was, he had her banking, her logins, her car, everything except her house and dog. Why he targeted her, she would never know. She only knew that somewhere beyond the tree line, he had cameras rolling to capture every moment for the highest bidding tabloid.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"Humiliate yourself. Naked whores are a dime a dozen, but everyone loves an excuse to ridicule one."
Under his direction, she shimmied and swayed into the kitchen. Despite how this sucked, it brought back a little of her celebutante days to bust her moves. Silver lining in everything. Opening the door, she pulled out a carrot and headed for the bathroom. At least here, she could slow her roll, though his orders weren't very kind. Bright rouge lipstick, thickly applied on her lips and into circles on her cheeks. She added BABY MAKER to her belly, before slipping out of her panties and into new ones with strips strategically cut from its back. Then to seal the deal, she stuck on a red rubber nose. By the time she emerged, she looked every bit a dumb slutty clown.
But as bad as all that was, the last order made her screech in outrage. "You want me to WHAT?!"
"You heard me. Do it."
Turning, she bared her ass to the windows and stuck her carrot right up it between the slits. Each rough inch made her grunt and screw her face until its bushy green stem remained like a tail.
"God this hurts," Lisa complained.
"Cost of business. Or I could send proof you committed tax fraud over to the IRS. What do you think will happen to your ass in jail?"
"Okay, okay! You win."
Clapping her hands against her butt cheeks, she wagged it for her blackmailer's cameras. She had a feeling this would be a long night.