Ronnie move onto her next client

Ronnie staggered to her feet, legs trembling. Cum dripped down her thighs in thick, sticky streams. Her face was a mask of dried semen, streaked glitter, and sweat.

The warehouse door creaked open, and she stumbled back out onto the cobblestone street. The cool night air kissed her bruised skin, a brief respite from the humid confines of her last encounter. Ginny, Hermione, Harry... they were out there somewhere. But right now, all that mattered was the next coin.

A figure detached itself from the deeper shadows across the street. Not like the swaggering youths from before. This man moved with a slow, deliberate gait, stooped slightly. He was older, maybe sixty, with thinning gray hair combed over a spotted scalp and a paunch that strained the buttons of a cheap tweed jacket. He clutched a small, old-fashioned camcorder to his chest like a prayer book.

His eyes, magnified by thick glasses, roamed over her ravaged form. There was no raw hunger in them, not like Jamal's. This was something else. A collector's gaze. "My dear," he said, his voice a dry rasp. "A work of art. A masterpiece of modern debasement."

Ronnie **** a smile, adjusting a torn strap that offered no modesty. "Looking for a masterpiece, are you? I can be your Mona Lisa." She gave a little twirl, wincing as a fresh spasm of pain shot through her stretched-out pussy.

The man chuckled, a sound like gravel skittering down a drain. "Precisely. And I am... a patron of the arts. I pay well for unique performances. Let's say... two hundred for the basic act. But..." He raised a finger, his gaze fixed on the cum still trickling down her leg. "For an extra... hundred and fifty... I would require a... golden finale. A baptism. To wash away the... previous artists' work." He licked his chapped lips. "I want to film it. Every second."

Ronnie's stomach turned. Two hundred was good. Three-fifty was exceptional. Enough to put her ahead of the others, for sure. This was what Dudley wanted. This was how she won. She thought of Hermione's prissy face, of Ginny's cutesy act. They wouldn't do this. They couldn't.

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