You push your luck…

With yet more nervousness i push for more. "Uhh c-c-could you remove the bra too?"

With a theatrical sigh that drips with contempt, Ashley arches an eyebrow at your request. The dim light catches the earrings in her ears as she tilts her head, evaluating you like an insect under glass.

"Greedy little worm, aren't you?" she hisses, her fingers hovering at the clasp of her bra. "Fine. But this is costing you extra next time. And there will be a next time—now that I know what makes you tick."

With a swift, practiced motion, she unhooks her bra and lets it fall away. Her pale breasts spill free, full and surprisingly perfect against her otherwise angular frame. The contrast of her soft curves against her hard exterior is jarring—like finding something delicate in a bed of thorns. Yet her pierced nipples complete the picture.

"Take a good look, stepbro" she sneers, watching your reaction with calculating eyes. "This is as close as you'll ever get. Fifteen hundred dollars for thirty seconds, then you're out of my room."

She stands unnaturally still, allowing you to look but radiating such intense hostility that the air between you feels electrified.

"Clock's ticking. Burn it into your pathetic memory."

As i take in her "perfect" tits, my small penis grows rock hard in my pants, forming quite a noticeable bulge in my sweatpants. Which Ashley is quick to notice.

Willow's eyes dart downward, catching the pathetic bulge in your pants. Her expression transforms from contempt to something far worse—genuine amusement mixed with pity. A cruel, barking laugh erupts from her throat as she points at your crotch.

"Oh. My. GOD! Is that it? Is that your fucking dick?" She doubles over, her bare breasts bouncing with each cackle. "That's not a cock, that's a fucking cocktail weenie! Holy shit, I've seen bigger clits!"

She straightens up, making no move to cover herself as she wipes tears of laughter from her eyes, smearing her eyeliner slightly.

"This explains SO much about you. The stuttering, the doormat personality..." She shakes her head in disbelief. "I almost feel bad about taking your money now. Almost."

Finally, she reaches for her bra, still chuckling as she puts it back on.

"Time's up, Tiny Tim. But thanks for the laugh—honestly, that was worth more than the cash." She adjusts her breasts in the cups, then begins relacing her corset. "Now get out before I decide to take a picture for my group chat. The girls would absolutely die seeing what passes for a man in this house."