The Host

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(This is for oiseokjin, you're my queen ❤)

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(This is for oiseokjin, you're my queen ❤)

The night bites inevitably like the sun shies away from the horizon.

My co-workers were busied to accomplish tasks on the final minute, I, on the other hand, was suspended in a small tight room. A pink room. Neon lights pelaged the four walls I was confined in, the texture prickled my eyes. The shade of colors were too much to be considered stylish.

Instead of aesthetic, it was torturous.

Zip zip zip

It echoes on the tight space as I rubbed my thighs together, the itch was bothersome when the thin layer of cloth ran lithely on each other, each strap lining tightly against my skin, choking back to my thighs before disappearing on the edge of my sweater that obstructed the parts atop of my legs. My fingers delicately swabbed on the corner of my lips, my eyes flickered along my reflection. It was better to look at my reflection than the people evident across the transparent wall the separated us. Them and their greedy eyes and foul minds. Businessmen, husbands, widowed. Such men gathered in a room, spreading sin, rotting themselves more as I glare at them with my lip between my teeth.

When I wheeled around in a manner I usually does after hearing a praise, a man slapped his hand on the wall. His eyes felt like drilling my soul as I indulged my body with the music continuously blared from the speaker. It wasn't the music I would listen to, but any music that would rightfully accompany me dancing for the guests would be chucked right in the room.

He smirked, I gave back an eyeroll, he praised, I ignored. Dancing was not my forte but if it meant, swaying my hips, exposing my skin in the wrong places, running my palms on discrete spots, then I assume I was doing a good job. He's the proof I was.

Every insignificant gestures I make seems to contrive incoherent blabbers or awes.

I earn woahs and gasps when I licked my lips,

Groans when I dropped down on the floor, legs grinding on the plastic platform. The heels were torment, but it elongates my legs. Long and flawless legs are everything in this defiling industry... is this even an industry? A criminal act?

And wolf whistles were defiling but expected, yet without them, I wouldn't see the smirks that would bring me the cash I'm working for.

As I twirled more, the stray strap tightened around the pole just like my hands arouns it, I dropped my hips down, slowly grinding my crotch against the floor once more. The strap linked on pole tugged on the leather circling around my neck; the bell dingled when I bobbed my throat or moved arouns.

I licked my lips, eyes rolling to the back, before I spattered, "Daddy, be good to me."

I heard the praises I was trying to harvest from them so I flickered my gaze on them before my vision fell on a familiar man.

Pretty In Pink • JinKook / 진국Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora