Emily on her knees.

Emily’s cheeks were hot and her breath was shallow. The stranger’s magic fingers had brought her to this point and he wasn’t stopping and Emily wondered how far he would go. He had to have some kind of limit, didn’t he? Didn’t everyone have at least a little shame?

Her knees were weak and she knew that he could tell. Emily didn’t understand this man. He had appeared out of nowhere and never said a word. He had taken her clothes away and revealed her naked pussy to all the perverts watching the show. All logic told her he was an enemy, a predator, someone to be afraid of, and Emily was afraid. But that fear was laced with adrenaline, and her heart was pounding at a mile a minute.

The man’s hand grazed against her shamelessly wet pussy and Emily actually squealed. She bit her lip, trying to retain composure. What the fuck was going on? She wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t even supposed to be a dancer for these people. This had all been a total fluke. Why didn’t she speak up, say something? It could all be over in seconds if only she said something.

He had noticed her jelly-legs. The Nightwing cosplayer put his hand on her neck and pushed her down and she went, falling on her knees in front of the crowd. The ones in the front row could probably see how wet she was. Was this an oddity for them, or did something as explicit as this happen throughout the show?