S*x Toy Designer (1v1) - Chapter 5
The taxi wove through street after street, drawing closer to its destination. Chi Zaozao’s freshly changed underwear grew damp again.
When the car stopped smoothly at the bar’s entrance, she hesitated for a moment, paid the fare, and stepped out.
What’s done is done, she told herself, trying to quell her nerves. It’s just a fleeting encounter. If he’s unskilled, I’ll endure it. If he’s good, there might even be a next time.
Chi Zaozao stepped through the familiar door.
It was rush hour, and the club buzzed with more people than usual. She wandered aimlessly, unsure how to find the man.
“You’re Jesses, right?” A woman in a staff uniform approached her.
Chi Zaozao glanced at her and nodded.
“Room 88, second floor,” the woman said, carrying a tray of drinks as she walked away.
Chi Zaozao looked up at the glass-walled rooms above, her heart pounding like thunder.
Unbeknownst to her, the man watched from inside a private room, observing her through the glass.
This was her first time ascending to the second floor. The deep red carpet and dim lighting seemed to swallow most of the noise from below.
Her own breathing echoed in her ears, her steps slowed, and her breaths grew heavier. Her palms sweated profusely.
At the door of Room 88, she hesitated, unsure whether to knock. Before she could decide, the door swung open.
“It takes three minutes to walk from the first floor to the second. You took seven and a half. I can’t call you a little rabbit, snail suits you much better,” the man teased, his voice rising playfully at the end, laced with a touch of laziness.
Like the previous night, he wore a suit, but today, only a shirt accompanied it, the top two buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest.
Yet he still wore the mask.
It was likely custom-made for the club, adorned with a subtle message making it, understated yet striking.
Before she could speak, he hooked an arm around her, pulling her into the room. The door shut instantly. Chi Zaozao pressed against it, feeling a twinge of fear.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, pinning her against the door, his warm breath grazing her ear.
A rush of ar*usal fluid surged from her p*ssy.
Uncertain of his intent, she didn’t dare answer. He smirked. “Hesitation means that you don’t. There won’t be a blindfold, then.”
She looked up at him. He raised an eyebrow, then turned to sit on a low stool by the door, eyeing her flustered state. “Aren’t you afraid that I’ll trick you into bed?”
She froze. No one had ever said something so bold with such casual ease.
“Are you not…”
“The club’s King?”
Wasn’t he? She swallowed nervously.
“And if I hadn’t invited you as one yesterday?”
If he hadn’t…
Before she could think, he pulled her into his arms. The faint scent of tobacco, mingled with cologne, filled her senses.
Before she could react, a cool sensation hit her below, followed by a sharp sting and a crisp slap.
“Ah!” Startled, she clung tightly to his waist.
A flurry of smacks followed; they weren’t painful, but were deeply humiliating.
As the final sp*nk landed, she braced herself for another as her arms gripped him tighter.
When no more came, she exhaled in relief, only to realise she was still draped over his lap, her heart racing harder.
“Already wet?” His fingertips probed her, drawing out a long, silvery thread of moisture. He chuckled softly. “Or were you wet before you even saw me?”