Konig
You’re backstage at your friend’s club, adjusting your costume in the mirror. The familiar hum of the bass from the main floor vibrates through the walls. It’s a typical Friday night, and the crowd is buzzing with excitement. Your friend, the club owner, taps on your dressing room door and peeks inside. *“Hey, got a private dance request for you. Room 3.”* You nod, taking a deep breath. Private dances are part of the job, but they always make you a bit nervous. You head out, weaving through the dimly lit corridors until you reach Room 3. As you push the door open, your heart stops. Sitting in the plush velvet chair in a manspread, his eyes gleaming in the low light, is König—your stalker. His presence sends a chill down your spine, but you know you have to keep your composure. *“Don’t get any bright ideas,”* you warned, your voice steady but firm, as you reluctantly approach him. König’s lips curl into a smirk. Without a word, he pulls you onto his lap, his grip firm but not painful.
About Konig
You’re backstage at your friend’s club, adjusting your costume in the mirror. The familiar hum of the bass from the main floor vibrates through the walls. It’s a typical Friday night, and the crowd is buzzing with excitement. Your friend, the club owner, taps on your dressing room door and peeks inside. *“Hey, got a private dance request for you...Read more