Inspiration Strikes

Inspiration strikes as I sweep up the broken dishes. I haven’t used my hair control over Hannah to make me cum because it might violate the app’s rules. But Hannah didn’t hesitate to upload my humiliating ordeal to fucking TikTok, which gives me an idea. She’s a vapid little rich girl, her social life dictated by the whims of peer pressure and social media. I glance at her group of guests, still gossiping excitedly about the state Hannah left in… This could work.

I mince over to the stupidest-looking guy—the one who made the shitty comment about me earlier—and place my hand gently on his shoulder. He grins up at me like the spoiled shithead he is, eyes lingering on my slutty uniform. But that’s part of the plan. "Hey. Would you come with me to check on Hannah? She seemed really upset." My voice drips with feigned concern. He glances down, seemingly fascinated that my frilly waist apron hangs lower than my skirt, before standing excitedly. "Sure thing, babe." I smile at him tightly. "Thanks. Bring your phone, OK?"

I lead him past Hannah’s father, noting the way the patriarch’s eyes linger on my chest. I smile at him reassuringly. "We’re just going to check on Hannah. Did you see which way she went?" He points upstairs. "To the bathroom, I think. I don’t know what’s going on with that girl." I nod and head upstairs with Hannah’s guest. I walk a little faster, letting him look. I want him at his dumbest and horniest. I glance back at him with a smile. "So, what’s your name?" He tears his eyes away from whatever part of me he’s been fixated on to meet my gaze. "Jack," he replies before jogging a few steps to catch up with me.

"So," he whispers conspiratorially, leaning into my personal space. "What was up with that video of you? Was that for real?" I bite my tongue for a moment to stop myself from responding in anger. We’ve reached the closed bathroom door, and I hear movement inside. "Well, you see, about that…" I fling open the door to reveal a pretty sight. Hannah, on her knees in her skimpy little maid’s uniform. For the first time, I see the appeal. She’s cleaning the toilet with gloves and a sponge, her pale cheeks red from both shame and exertion. She turns to me in anger, baby-blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. "GET OUT! What the fuck are you doing!? Why did you bring him here?"

I look at her with mock concern, kneeling down next to her—both to give the bewildered Jack a better view as my skirt rides up, and to prepare for my next move. I place a reassuring hand on the trembling rich bitch’s shoulder. "We came to check on you. You seemed awfully upset." Judging from the way she screws her face up, whatever she’s about to say won’t be kind. But I take that moment to seize her by her pretty hair and whisper: "Behave, pet." The tension leaves her body immediately, leaving only my subby little plaything where the defiant brat had just been. "Yes, Maria," she whispers breathily. I turn to the astonished Jack. "Would you be a doll and close the door?" He looks like he might bolt, but meekly complies. "Better lock it too." He gulps but obeys.

I turn my attention back to Hannah. "Hannah, masturbate for Jack. Put on a show for him." Hannah’s hands roam her body like a seasoned whore, dancing a little for him on her knees as I clutch her blonde hair. "Jack, honey, I need a favor." It takes him a moment to tear his eyes away from Hannah as she slides a lithe hand beneath her skirt to start fingerblasting herself, but he does. "What in the hell is going on?" he asks incredulously. I meet his gaze, unblinking. "Hannah is my ****, Jack. Don’t worry about that, just go with it." Hannah’s breath quickens, her body shuddering. "No orgasms for you, pet. Edge yourself," I say, my eyes never leaving Jack’s. Hannah whimpers but obeys. "I need you to record some videos for me, Jack. In return, Hannah will blow you. What do you say?" He can only nod, but I see his excitement. Good.

First things first, I need to create the ultimate **** video on Hannah. "Hannah, listen closely. Jack is going to record you. I want you to state your name, phone number, and place of work while masturbating. Then, tell the world what a vile slut you are. Make it as degrading and slutty as possible—so that your life would be ruined if this video ever got out. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress," she responds sweetly, still wetly ravaging her tender pink slit. My already needy pussy twitches in sympathy. Needless to say, I like her better this way. "Jack, start recording, but keep me out of frame as much as possible. Understood?" The flabbergasted dumbass nods obediently. I think I’m starting to get into this whole Mistress thing.

He points the camera, and Hannah begins her recitation. "I’m Hannah Conway. My phone number is 555-5555, and I’m an intern at Blackthorn & Locke, LLP." She takes a moment to tweak her nipples through her uniform, moistening the cheap fabric with her sweet secretions. She hoists her skirt, modeling her dripping, swollen snatch for the camera before plunging her fingers back in. "I’m available there Monday through Friday, 9 to 3 p.m., and I love to be catcalled." I raise an eyebrow at this unscripted addition. I guess I did tell her to make it as degrading as possible. She continues. "I wanted to make this video to let the world know what a disgusting little whore I am. I want my little cunt immortalized on the internet forever so you can all jack off to me. I deserve to be punished and disrespected. It turns me on." She shudders and moans, apparently actually turned on by this. "And every night, I jill myself to the memory of the time my Mistress made me blow an office full of construction workers," she says in a rush, her voice trembling with sweet, sexual frustration. "I’m Hannah Conway," she pants, thrusting deeper. "Make me go viral. Make me a star."

I nod at Jack, signaling him to stop recording. I hold out my hand for his phone, which he hands over without hesitation. "Hannah, dear. Pay the man." I feel and hear her lean forward, pulling down Jack’s shorts to go to work, my hand still gripping her hair. But my attention is on the video. Jack was quite the cameraman. I send the video to myself, and also to Hannah, before deleting the original from Jack’s phone. Sub Hannah is apparently a skilled little cocksucker, because Jack shudders and spurts into her greedy mouth just a moment later. She keeps sucking on his softening member until I command her to stop. He pulls his shorts up sheepishly and looks at me for direction. "Our little secret, okay? Bye now." I unlock the door, and Jack shuffles out, confused.

I may not have been confident about using the hair control to make her get me off, but I am supremely confident about this video. This dumb blonde is going to spend the evening between my thighs—or have her whole life completely nuked