dumb bitch reward

The neon sign of "The Velvet Pit" flickers erratically, casting jagged shadows across the crowded club floor. The air is a suffocating cocktail of expensive cologne, sweat, and the metallic tang of spilled protein drinks. In this district, the music isn't just loud it's a physical assault of bass that makes your teeth rattle, designed to keep your brain waves slow and compliant.

Maya sits on a velvet stool at the edge of the VIP lounge, her legs splayed wide, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She isn't here for the music. She isn't even here for the drinks. She is here for a glimpse of her.

Across the room, perched on a throne like chair, sits Clara. Clara is the pinnacle of the 'Bimbo Drift' a gorgeous, platinum blonde disaster whose intellect has been so thoroughly scrubbed away by months of constant feeding that she can barely remember how to blink. She sits there like a living doll, surrounded by three massive, muscular men who treat her like a communal piece of furniture.

Maya's stomach growls a deep, hollow ache that makes her hands shake. She hasn't been fed since yesterday morning, and her brain fog is starting to turn into a painful, dizzying haze. But she can't leave. She can't go home to her lonely apartment. She needs to see Clara. She needs to see that beautiful, empty expression, that mindless smile that tells Maya she's not alone in her stupidity.

"Hey, sweetheart." A deep voice rumbles beside her.

Maya blinks slowly, turning her head. A stranger stands there a broad shouldered brute with a cock that strains against his denim jeans like a living thing. "You look like you're starving. And you're staring at that slut across the room like she's the Holy Grail."

Maya's tongue feels thick in her mouth. "She's... she's pretty," Maya manages to slur, her words slurring together. "I want to... I want to be like her."

The man chuckles, a rough sound that sends a shiver of desperate arousal down Maya's spine. "Then earn it. A girl like that doesn't get to sit on a throne without paying her tribute. You want to keep watching her? Then you better start earning your keep."

Without waiting for an answer, he shoves Maya off the stool and onto the sticky floor. "Two more guys are behind me, princess. We're going to make sure you're full enough to actually remember her name by midnight."

Maya doesn't resist. She doesn't even think about resisting. As the first man unzips, she crawls forward on all fours, her eyes locked on Clara across the room. Every thrust she receives, every flood of hot, thick protein that fills her throat and womb, feels like a step closer to that perfect, mindless bliss. She will endure hours of relentless, pounding service, taking as many men as it takes, just to earn another thirty seconds of staring at the empty, beautiful eyes of her crush.