Sheer outfit to make the man happy

With trembling hands, Harry slid the sheer outfit over his curvy body, the fabric caressing his new skin like a lover's touch. The pimp's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched Harry transform into a creature of his desires. The dress clung to Harry's form like a second skin, his erect nipples and the swollen mound of his pussy clearly visible through the flimsy material.

The man's smile grew wider as Harry struggled to cover his modesty, the fabric doing more to highlight than to conceal his arousal. "Ah, I knew you'd make the right choice," he said, his voice thick with lust. "Now, let's make it official. What's your name, little whore?"

Taking a deep breath, Harry **** the words out. "My name is... Umm... Cleo."

The pimp chuckled, the sound echoing in the small room. "Cleo, huh? Well, that's fitting. You've always been trying to be a exotic one, haven't you? To bad you're a basic white slut." He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to trace the outline of Harry's pussy through the dress. "But before we start, I think it's only fair that you know who your new master is."

He leaned in, his breath hot on Harry's ear. "I am Ezra Drake, and I own every inch of this brothel, every soul that walks its path, and now, every part of you." His hand slid between Harry's legs, his fingers teasing the wet folds of Harry's sex. "You're going to be the star of my show, my sweet little Cleo. And the wizarding world will never forget the night you gave yourself to me." His voice was a seductive whisper, the words sending a shiver down Harry's spine.

Despite the fear and disgust, Harry's body responded with a betraying throb of desire, his pussy clenching around Drake's fingers. Harry knew he had to keep playing along, to find a way out of this hellish game. But for now, he was trapped in the clutches of his new enemy, and the rules were his to dictate.

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