How About the Underground?
"Good work, Hido. Today was a total smash."
"You too, Ruda... you worked so hard..."
The moment the red light signaling the end of the broadcast flicked off, the tense air in the room loosened in an instant. Ruda's eyes, which had been devouring me like a beast in heat, softened into something gentle and kind, her ragged breaths settling into calm. But my body was still trapped in that scorching heat.
"Haa, haa..."
Sprawled on the narrow studio sofa, I looked pathetic. My crop top had rolled up completely, bunched under my chest, and my oil-slicked abs glistened with the red marks Ruda had left blooming like flowers across them. Worst of all, below my hot pants... the sticky, damp fabric of my underwear clinging to my thighs. The defeated slump of my dick was outlined so vividly it stirred a fresh wave of humiliation. Looking this wrecked... Powerlessly.
In front of the camera, with over a hundred viewers watching, I'd thrashed like a live fish under Ruda's fingers and came. Then, right before the stream ended, the bonus mission popped up.
Deep kiss while jerking him off, then ahegao while he cums — 2000 stars.
That was just... Haa. The second I confirmed it, Ruda pounced. Her soft, wet lips were warm, but the hand gripping my dick was rough and teasing. Every time that memory replayed in my head, waves of shame crashed over me—but
Still... The payout was insane. The cumulative total on Ruda's monitor crushed that shame flat.
"Stay still. I'll wipe off the sticky stuff."
Ruda approached with wet wipes and a warm towel. She settled between my legs and started carefully cleaning the mess of oil, saliva, and my cum from my inner thighs.
"Ugh, ah... I can do it myself..."
"Shh, just stay put? Gotta take proper care of my guest."
Every touch of the warm towel on my sensitized skin made me twitch. Swipe. Swipe. Her hands were so tenderly gentle now, the opposite of before, driving me even crazier. She peeled off my soaked underwear, pressing and wiping my softened dick, her lips curling playfully.
"Hido, you were no joke earlier? First guest this sensitive."
"That's... 'cause you suddenly..."
"Hehe, thanks to you, today's earnings are juicy. I'll give you fresh panties—wear those home."
Money. That word sealed my lips. The number I'd earned by gnawing away at my pride was my lifeline—miserable, yet sweet. "Hngh—" She wickedly rubbed the mark on my nape one last time with her fingertip, then whispered, satisfied.
"Today was amazing. Your body's gorgeous, and those sounds? Perfect."
"R-really?"
"Totally the best."
"Hehe, hehehe..."
I'd rarely heard "good job" or "the best" even during trainee days, so Ruda's praise felt like sweet honey. "I'll get this last spot too."
"Ahit... Th-thank you..."
As her hands cleaned every inch of me, a strange sense of ownership washed over me, like I was hers.
......
On the way home, the night air was cold, but my lower belly still burned. The second I got through the door, I dumped everything and collapsed onto the bed. Staring at the ceiling, Ruda's lewd smile and the twist of her fingers on my nipples kept flashing back.
"Haa... I'm losing it, for real..."
It should've been horrific. Losing my dignity as a man, cumming pathetically in front of the camera while mocked. But—why was my head looping only the hot tickle of her tongue around my navel?
"No, can't..."
My hand drifted to my waistband on its own. Was it leftover oil, or just my imagination? My skin felt slick.
"Ah, ugh... Ruda..."
Eyes shut, the dark room transformed back into that cramped, brightly lit studio. Ruda gripping my ass tight, nibbling my nape, whispering [Gotta make money, right?] It echoed in my ears.
Swipe. Sliiiide.
My fingers mimicked her touch, trailing from chest to stomach. "Ah, ahnng..." My brain had already memorized every sensitive spot she'd grazed. Grabbing my stiffening dick roughly revived the blatant sensation of her hand plunging inside me.
"Haek! Ah, aaa...!"
It was solo comfort, but the Ruda in my head was harsher than on camera. Clutching the bedsheets with my toes, I relished the pleasure of being ravished by her, the desire I'd excused as "for the money" erupting ugly in the empty room. "R-Ruda... I'm, gonna cum... Ooooh!" Splurt, spurt...
Warm cum splattered across my stomach. "Haa, haa..." A hollow climax, leaving only a vicious thirst.
For days after, I clung to my phone. Waiting for Ruda's next message, anxious I'd messed up. But she was a pro. "No collab invite yet..." Nothing else since.
I had to survive on my own. So I reviewed Ruda's streams. What viewers craved, what made them open their wallets. Not cuteness or charm—it was me... a guy breaking down. I can do this. I'd replayed and planned it a hundred times. Click.
I fired up my solo stream again. No plain tee this time. A deep V-neck or a thin shirt hinting at my waistline.
"Uh... thanks for coming today."
The chat lit up hotter than before. Word of my Ruda collab must've spread—viewers poured in.
"Hehe... 100 stars?"
Shame? Meaningless now. Swipe. I shyly lifted my shirt hem, striking the pose Ruda had guided, pushing my lower abs toward the lens.
"L-like this...? Aa, so embarrassing..."
Trainee skills shining here? Who knew.
Mission success chime and stars bursting—cheerful. "G-give me a mission, I'll show more... hehe..." Each jingle wore down my morals. Ding.
Nipple play for 300 stars.
"Aaah... nipples... wait a sec..." Mission in, body moved on autopilot. I dialed up exposure carefully, fulfilling their cheeky demands just right. "That's it for today's stream... goodnight, noonas~"
Closing lines grew, earnings climbed daily—my dream inching closer, heart racing.
Then one night, a familiar name DM'd me.
Collab.
My heart pounded wildly. In the dark monitor reflection, I was already prepped to meet Ruda.
Finally... the chance is back. I typed frantically.
My finger trembled over send. Scared what touch would break me this time, but overriding the fear was twisted anticipation—for another dose of financial therapy under those hot camera lights. "What to wear?"
I rummaged my sparse closet for collab outfit. Easy to strip, maximally slutty. Thin and sheer's best, right? If I could set the mood from entrance, I felt I could do anything. "Haaa... do I actually have talent?" Masked, and these results. If I showed my face— Slap. Crazy... I slapped sense back. Never. No matter what, no face reveal. Scandal hits, now with nude Bj tag. That'd end me for good. So—
Highlight the body instead. Thinner. Bolder... This? Nah... this? Too obvious... Scrolling, eyes fierce, mind painting viewers thrilled by my heating body. Off-stage or not. This was my stage too. Before I knew it, I was sinking deeper into this world.