𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝕺𝖓𝖊: Strip tease

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"The dead will be waiting because a crime buried without justice is never laid to rest

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"The dead will be waiting because a crime buried without justice is never laid to rest."

― Scott Pelley

TW: Mature language, Violence, Mentions of Alcohol consumption, SMUT scenes with mentions of Kinks (Degradation and Praise). Read at your own risk.

 Read at your own risk

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You stare at your hands from your lap, nails flicking the calluses that formed in between your thumb and index finger.

You feel sickly, your shoulders lift the half weight of your body as you slump on the makeup chair.

The artist would pull at your locks and curl the ends of your hair, the smell of intoxicating hairspray, damaging strands and body shimmer overwhelm your nose but somehow it didn't smell repulsive like it was from day one.

That's how you live now, you adapt to things even though the things you commit were revolting, because you never had the choice ever since.

Makes you wonder where you should draw the line from the difference of sacrifice and self slaughter.

That whenever you looked at the mirror, a whole different stranger was now exchanging your gaze.

The tiredness of your eyes seeps through the weigh of the makeup you wore, the lash extensions brought out the doe of your eyes, concealer slathered to cover the bruises and imperfections until your skin looked flawless and alluring to touch, body shimmers made your skin glowed from the lights.

Your hair had grown longer, curled to the tips and sprayed with your signature lavender and bergamot scent.

Whenever you touched your arms you'd feel prominent bones on your skin, you had lost all the weight from dancing that had the muscles on your body forming in their right places.

Somehow, from all the missions you've been through, you grew to become the victim of the male gaze, part of deriving pleasure from making them fall to your knees and having them wrapped around your finger.

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