Demands more nudes from the slut not wanting to hear her dumb slut stories

"Listen here, you dumb little slut," you type, the words sharp and commanding in the glowing dark. "I don't care about your cheap bar stories. Show me what I paid for. Now." Your thumb hovers over send, pulse roaring in your ears. Ava’s breath hitches beside you, a soft, sleepy sound that makes your stomach clench. You hit send anyway.

The ellipsis dances. One beat. Two. Then, a flood of images lights up your screen. Emily sprawled on rumpled sheets, back arched, one hand tangled in her hair while the other cups a breast, nipple peeking between her fingers.

The next is her kneeling, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent gasp, fingers splayed over her inner thigh. The last is a close-up of her glistening cunt, parted and waiting, captioned "Still think you’re too respectable, boss?"

"I don't respect a slut like you. I need more whore. Show your boss who owns you. Play with one of your toys."

The phone buzzes instantly. Emily's face appears first, lips parted, eyes glazed as her hand dips below the frame. Then comes the low hum of a vibrator, muffled through the speaker but unmistakable. She angles the camera down, a pink silicone toy disappearing between her slick folds, her hips lifting off the bed in jerky rhythm. "F-fuck, sir," she gasps, the image blurring as her thighs tremble. "Wish it was... your cock..."

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