Miranda’s Merciless Show
Miranda paced back and forth in her lavish bedroom, her stilettos clicking against the marble floor. Impatience seethed in her veins as she checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time. Where the hell was he? Mark, her pet paypig, was late again, and she was furious.
It had been a month since Mark agreed to finance her lavish lifestyle, granting her an “unlimited shopping spree” in exchange for… “favors.” Miranda had never been one to shy away from generous benefactors. But Mark’s tardiness was starting to test her patience.
As she stormed across the room, her diamond-encrusted phone case glinted, the device buzzing with notifications from her social media addicts. She ignored them all, too preoccupied with her prey’s tardiness. Mark thought he could just string her along, making her wait for hours before showing up with his wallet in hand? Please. He needed to learn who was really in control here.
Miranda’s gaze landed on the live feed camera perched on her dresser, its red light flashing, broadcasting her “private” show to her online followers. She smirked to herself, knowing Mark had no idea he was about to become the main attraction.
When the door finally creaked open, Miranda whirled around, her eyes blazing with fury. There stood Mark, looking like a meek little rabbit, his eyes wide as he took in her predatory gaze.
“About damn time,” she snapped, striding toward him. “Get in here and strip, now.”
Mark’s face paled as he fumbled with the doorknob, his hands shaking. What had he gotten himself into? In the past month, his seemingly innocuous errands for Miranda had escalated into something far more morally compromising and overtly sexual. At first, he found her demands titillating, even arousing. Who wouldn’t want to unleash their darkest fantasies with a gorgeous, confident dominatrix like Miranda?
But somewhere along the way, the lines had blurred, and the reality of his situation hit him like a freight train. He was her ‘paypig,’ nothing more than a wallet with a pulse, and she held all the cards. His late arrival was the final straw in her patience, and now he faced the consequences of his tardiness.
As Miranda pushed him into the bedroom, Mark closed his eyes, bracing for the humiliation to come. He had no idea just how much she would debase him in front of her online audience.
“Open your eyes, Mark,” Miranda commanded, her voice dripping with disdain. “We have a live show to put on.”
Slowly, he opened them to see a circle of faces on the screen, their leering gazes fixed on him. Miranda stood behind him, her red stilettoed feet planted wide apart, as if ready to pounce.
“Start by removing your clothes,” she instructed, her tone dripping with sadistic glee. “Let’s see what our little paypig looks like in the buff.”
Mark’s face burned as he reached for the hem of his shirt, his hands trembling. Each piece of clothing he removed was met with taunting commentary from the online onlookers, their cruel words slicing through him like a thousand razors.
“Ugly, aren’t you?” Miranda sneered as Mark stood naked before her. “I guess that’s what you get for keeping me waiting.”
She grabbed his cock, squeezing it harshly, and he winced in pain. “Look at this pathetic dick,” she spat, displaying it for the camera, “the only thing this paypig has to offer me.”
The live chat erupted with derisive laughter and perverted suggestions, but Miranda just smirked, enjoying the show. She was in her element, playing the role of the ruthless dominatrix to perfection.
“You’re going to pay for every minute you made me wait, Mark,” she hissed, her hot breath against his ear. “Now, get on your knees and show this audience what a good little paypig you are.”
As Mark complied, his swollen cock brushing against the cold floor, Miranda leaned in, her lips hovering mere inches from his ear. “And don’t even think about pulling out your wallet until I say so. You’ve got a lot more humiliation in store for you before you’re allowed to leave… or pay up.”