For a street punk, Rivah never thought anyone could take her by surprise. She always had an eye for the exits, any time her fists couldn't do the talking.
Then the Bitches of East End got her. From every alley and doorway they came, with numbers too big for her to fight her way out. Suddenly, shit-talking their leader the last time she beat one of them down wasn't as bad ass as she remembered. At their mercy with guns and knives drawn on her, Rivah stood still as they stripped her. They yanked off her leather jacket. Ripped away her shirt and bra.
"Yo, look at the shit tits on this whore."
She remained stoic, cool as ice, as they flicked her small breasts and laughed. She would not let them break her, no matter how much her nipples ached with their pinching, and twisting, pulling. Meanwhile, they stole her boots straight off her feet.
"Tip-toes," one of them ordered, blade to her neck. With a dissatisfied grunt, she did exactly that, as a couple other Bitches undid the button and fly on her ratty jeans littered with holes. Their fingers probed her ass and pussy, but she wouldn't budge. Exploring how deep they could go, how wide they could stretch her, they pushed her but she kept staring ahead.
She knew what awaited her if they broke her. Being a Bitch was one thing. Being a Bitch's bitch, no pride in that. She had no intention of spending the rest of her life licking ass and sucking clit any time they let her out of a cage. Her own gang would disown her the second she caved, clearly not true Alpha material if she couldn't handle the infamous Bitch Trial.
They shoved a candle up her butt. A vibrator in her cunt. Lathered her up in oils that defined her sleek muscles and tight tiny tits, while attaching heart earrings and fuck-me lipstick. Her resting bitch face didn't fade. Not even when the vibrator whirred to life at top power, shaking her hips like a twerking puppet. All her will power went into resisting the pleasure rising up from her crotch.
"Stay."
It dawned on her, as the Bitches retreated into their hide-aways. This wasn't really about payback. She was bait. Set out in the middle of the street on Bitch turf, where everyone could see the naked redheaded dumbass slip closer to cumming in her undone pants. What none of the Bitches realized, apparently, was that no one would come for her. She was on her own. Bracing for her first orgasm, Rivah clenched her fists and teeth with thoughts of payback swirling in her head.
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For a street punk, Rivah never thought anyone could take her by surprise. She always had an eye for the exits, any time her fists couldn't do the talking.
Then the Bitches of East End got her. From every alley and doorway they came, with numbers too big for her to fight her way out. Suddenly, shit-talking their leader the last time she beat one of them down wasn't as bad ass as she remembered. At their mercy with guns and knives drawn on her, Rivah stood still as they stripped her. They yanked off her leather jacket. Ripped away her shirt and bra.
"Yo, look at the shit tits on this whore."
She remained stoic, cool as ice, as they flicked her small breasts and laughed. She would not let them break her, no matter how much her nipples ached with their pinching, and twisting, pulling. Meanwhile, they stole her boots straight off her feet.
"Tip-toes," one of them ordered, blade to her neck. With a dissatisfied grunt, she did exactly that, as a couple other Bitches undid the button and fly on her ratty jeans littered with holes. Their fingers probed her ass and pussy, but she wouldn't budge. Exploring how deep they could go, how wide they could stretch her, they pushed her but she kept staring ahead.
She knew what awaited her if they broke her. Being a Bitch was one thing. Being a Bitch's bitch, no pride in that. She had no intention of spending the rest of her life licking ass and sucking clit any time they let her out of a cage. Her own gang would disown her the second she caved, clearly not true Alpha material if she couldn't handle the infamous Bitch Trial.
They shoved a candle up her butt. A vibrator in her cunt. Lathered her up in oils that defined her sleek muscles and tight tiny tits, while attaching heart earrings and fuck-me lipstick. Her resting bitch face didn't fade. Not even when the vibrator whirred to life at top power, shaking her hips like a twerking puppet. All her will power went into resisting the pleasure rising up from her crotch.
"Stay."
It dawned on her, as the Bitches retreated into their hide-aways. This wasn't really about payback. She was bait. Set out in the middle of the street on Bitch turf, where everyone could see the naked redheaded dumbass slip closer to cumming in her undone pants. What none of the Bitches realized, apparently, was that no one would come for her. She was on her own. Bracing for her first orgasm, Rivah clenched her fists and teeth with thoughts of payback swirling in her head.