A Bit of Improv

Hana was a mess. She lay flat on her back, her boobies rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath. She rubbed her thighs together, cringing at the feeling of her crotch being slick with Roadhog's saliva, feeling a little sick, and heaved slightly as she lay there. Roadhog looked down at her, his trousers and pants still round his ankles. "God, you look hotter than the Outback, Cottontail."

Hana looked up at him, her eyes glassy and unfocused from the sheer mind-blowing shock of what had just happened to her...or maybe it was that she was struggling to see through all the cum on her face. "Muh...muh..." She muttered, "Muhther...fuh...ker..." Her body glistened, various bits of her shining on account of various bodily fluids as she lay before him. Roadhog seemed to take pity on her as she lay there, "Know what?" He said, suddenly. "You're free to go," He set about pulling up his tighty-whiteys, "I haven't been given a blowjob like that in years. You're a talent, Cottontail, you really are."

Roadhog yanked his trousers up onto his hip and started to walk away. He was gone before she remembered that he still had her panties. She cursed herself, then gingerly sat up, her hands crossed over her chest. She was alone in the warehouse now, the draught feeling awfully cold on her bare, nearly hairless body. Hana stood slowly, brushing her semen-flecked hair out of her eyes and going over to pick up the car keys — which she realised had fallen to the floor when her panties had been snatched — then slow-walking to the exit, shivering as the now-evening breeze ran over her. In the parking lot out front, she saw Roadhog had taken the Humvee. She hoped she'd never see him again, she didn't think she could handle hearing that voice, listening to him mock her over what she'd just done in front of all her teammates. The thought made her want the ground to swallow her up. Hana continued up to the front gate and peered out at the street beyond, it was mostly empty, but she waited several seconds to make sure, not wanting there to be the slightest chance of her being seen; on the same day as her being exposed in that video, to be seen walking around naked in a single knee-sock, semen all over her face? She'd be pegged as a problematic slut forever more, her career done and dusted. Hana saw the coast was clear and tip-toed out to the pavement. She felt horribly visible out here, so she quickly brought up the keys in her hand and clicked a button on them, immediately, a car parked on the curb in front of her flashed. She went up to it, gave the street one more look over, then opened the door and got in.

Wriggling over into the driver's seat, Hana sat in darkness, not wanting the car's inner lights to expose her any further to passers-by. She could already feel the semen drying on her face, and concluded that she needed to get it off now. Leaning forward and starting to rummage in the glove compartment, she made a satisfied sound as her hand closed round a packet of wet wipes. She took a few out, the packet crinkling in her hands, and placed it on the seat next to her and began to wipe down her cum-covered features. When she was done, she'd gone through four of the wipes, and, wanting to get that awful semen smell away from her, she tossed them out the window. Then, she reclined in the seat for a while, the leather soft against her skin, but a little cold against her bare buns.

She looked in the glove compartment again for anything she might cover herself with, but found nothing save for a large pack of plasters, the colour of lighter skin, she noted, lamenting the lack of any sort of material to fashion clothes from — even a scarf or shawl might have done something. Hana opened up the pack and put a plaster on her pinkie finger, wiggling it absent-mindedly. It hid her pinkie almost completely, and all at once an...unorthodox notion came to her.

Twenty minutes later, Hana had used up the entire pack, her feet were pressing against the windshield and her bum was raised in the air as she finished covering her crotch over with a variety of plasters in various sizes, overlapping and on top of one another like some collage-based art piece. It did the job though, her kitty was hidden safely from view. She had two left, and she stuck one to each nipple, using them as improvised pasties. Hana looked down at her self, it was an improvement, but anyone looking at her from even a distance would see she wasn't wearing any clothes.

She turned around in her seat, her butt cheeks fully visible through the windshield if anyone happened to look her way at that moment, deciding to have a look-see at the backseat. There was, she now saw, an oversized blazer resting against one of the rear doors, so she picked it up and put it on. Even sitting, she could tell it went far past her butt, to the point that it might be mistaken for an intentional, if daring, bit of fashion. This gave her a little more peace than she'd had five minutes ago. Still no shoes though, she thought, wiggling her toes. She looked up, dimly recalling there was a clothes shop across the street, its lit-up sign reading, "INTERNATIONAL STYLE EMPORIUM" with a stylised globe next to the name. There'd be shoes there, but she had no money or cards on her; but then, she remembered, she was a celebrity.

Her hands stayed firmly on the hem of her blazer as she skipped across the road. The automatic doors of the Style Emporium opened to receive her, and she stepped into the blindingly bright shop. An employee came up to greet her, but his face changed as he recognised her. "Ho..." He trailed off, clearly surprised.

"That's a very disrespectful term for a sexually liberated woman," She said, in her best approximation of her usual confident persona. "I need shoes," She added.

"Shoes?" The employee blinked, "You came to our store for shoes in the middle of—"

"In the middle of what?" Hana asked, innocently.

"Nothing, nothing," He replied. "Uh...What kind?"

Hana shrugged, "Sneakers?"

He nodded and led her across the shop, to the sneaker aisle. The aisle was full to bursting of sneakers, and Hana felt spoilt for choice. "Which would you recommend?" She asked, politely.

"These ones are new in from America. Very fresh, very expensive," He gestured to a black-and-white pair with blue stars on the sides. "Hmm," Hana said. "Yes, I think they'll do."

The employee blinked, this had been quite possibly the quckest sale of his career. "Uh...right. How will you be paying?"

Hana pursed her lips, "Pay?" She said, as if the word were beneath her.

"Yes? Cash or card?"

Hana narrowed her eyes, "Do you know who I am?"

The employee sighed irritably. "Yes, I do. Even if I did not before today, it would be difficult not to now."

"What does that mean?" Hana questioned him, coldly.

The employee hesitated, "Only...only that I do not follow pop culture and only recently learned of you through..." He paused, "An advertisement for Hero of My Storm!"

"Uh-huh," Hana was impressed by the deftness of the save. "So, in light of my being an influencer and celebrity, might I get these sneakers free of charge?"

The employee frowned, and shook his head. "Everybody pays, Ms. Song. Even," He paused pointedly before going on, "Celebrities and influencers."

Hana cursed under her breath, then beamed at him in an effort to project an air of calm. She needed those shoes for what came next, but what else to offer...?

"Um..." Hana said, blushing a little. "Maybe I—" She couldn't believe she was saying this, but as bad as it was, it would be nothing compared to Roadhog's violation. "Could I ask you to accompany me to the changing rooms...where I'm prepared to offer you quite the hefty bit of, um, backpay?"

The employee raised his eyebrows, clearly catching her drift. "Oh...oh yes, that'll do nicely, Ms. Song!"

They had gone to the changing rooms and drawn the curtain, secluding themselves behind it. She had expected the employee to be content simply feeling her backside up for a few minutes, his hands running up and down the supple flesh of her legendary booty. Instead, with some dismay, she had to accept his demand to place her over his knee and spank her. Now here she was, flinching every time his hand came down on one of her bare cheeks, the blazer hoisted up to her lower back. She felt his cock hardening beneath her with every strike, and every time he spanked her he growled under his breath, "You've been a bad girl, haven't you?" or "Daddy's disappointed, Daddy's very, very disappointed," and so on. She groaned inwardly at this latest display of degradation almost the whole time, as she stared at herself in the mirror. When he was done, she stood up, trying to ignore the stinging on her buttocks, and lowered the blazer again to cover them. "The shoes are yours," He said, rubbing his crotch and leaving the changing booth without a word of goodbye.

Hana put the shoes on with some difficulty, as she was now finding it hard to sit without pain lancing across her arse. She then stood up and examined them in the mirror, nodding to herself, then left the store, before the employee decided the shoes were worth more than first thought.