Hustler gets Hustled

“Checkmate” the boy said proudly, as he watched Renee’s hand clench into a fist in apparent frustration, her body language screaming anger.

“What you think you’re the only one who can play dirty? Or that we’d play in order of skill? Nope. Question is. Was I the third best? Or the fourth? Bet carefully now” he said confidently.

[Nicely done, but before she considers that. There was a bet to fulfill]

Renee froze.

“Yeah! Strip!”

““Strip, strip, strip!” The boys chanted.

[You have ten seconds to comply… or else] the voice threatened.

Forcing Renee to stand up and reluctantly untie the sash of her robe and throw it off her shoulders. Allowing it to drop to her heel clad feet.

“Woah” one boy expressed at the sight that made all the others go silent. As Renee stood there mostly bare. Except for a pair of nipple pasties and some stick on underwear all barely covering what Renee wanted them to. Each one with an embarrassing text written on them. Left nipple “Total”, right nipple “Fucking”, crotch “SLUT!”

And so she stood there, unable to cover, with ninety-nine percent of her massive mammeries on display, with stick-on panties that left quite the cameltoe impression. While the boys could read the risqué message, barely saving her modesty, like a book saying that she’s a “Total Fucking SLUT!””