them to apologize.

Invited south by the aromas of arousal, and a certain eager wetness, I caress Beatrix’s nether lips until her long, long, long legs give way. She whimpers with each gentle stroke I tease, and right when it sounds like the wobbly brunette nerd is about to explode, I pull away. The crowd watching has a mixed reaction to such cruelty, with some girls—like Fareehah—wincing sympathetically, and others doubled over laughing.

Nearly every male model in attendance wolf-whistles, or makes an effort to hide the tent pitching in his pants, and all of them are either snapping pictures or recording the sordid, sexual teasing.

“I need to hear that apology, girls~”

Beatrix looks like she might cry from sheer embarrassment while she chokes on her edging, and a Ruby who is suffering the same fate is wearing an expression so similar that the two perverts almost resemble twins… with a twelve-inch height discrepancy. Ruby Forsythia Byrne’s cute face burns a shade darker than her red hair while I tickle, stroke and pinch her leaking pussy. The debased photographer struggles against her handcuffs like her life depends on it, and implores me, “Oh my God, Zachy— please let me go, or, or, or let me cum! Or get those people away— or anything! Please!”

Begging is such sweet music coming from this wicked lady, but that won’t do, will it? After all, I asked for an apology, dammit.

As I give my bully’s clit a little tease to hear her whimper, I repeat myself, “Come on Red, just say sorry, and your suffering ends. Don’t you want to cum? Don’t you want those cameras off you? ‘Cause you’re gonna have to beg me for mercy.”

“I’m sorry!” Ruby cries as she moans, “Zachy, I’m sorry!”

“Sorry for what, exactly?” Comes my demand as I slow down on her pleasure, and focus on Beatrix’s quivering folds.

Turning away from the sea of cameras, the short, sexy photographer swallows her pride and says, “I’m sorry for stalking you… and stripping you… and leaking your nudes… and, I’m sorry for molesting you…”

“Good girl.” I coo, sneaking a couple fingers deep inside her dripping slit. Ruby bites her lips and whimpers as the digits within dance, rubbing her thighs against my arm on the precipice of an orgasm. She’s huffing like an over-stoked train engine, and flushed burgundy, but hasn’t cum just yet.

Beatrix too, can barely hold on; moaning like a ghost in heat.

I have all the power over these perverts’ pleasure… so what should I do with her?