142: Chapter 141: Strike a Pose 142: Chapter 141: Strike a Pose “But I’m not short on cash,” Song Yun boasted, “I have so much money that I don’t even know how much there is.
You better think of something else.”
“This…this…” Zimo fell silent.
Usually, when there was trouble, the three words ‘I’ll give you money’ would resolve everything.
But today, it seemed that wasn’t going to work.
“I can give you the best woman, very beautiful and good at taking care of people.
Most importantly, she’s seductive inside and out,” Zimo tried to tempt Song Yun.
Song Yun slapped him across the face and cursed, “If that woman is so great, you’ve definitely been with her before.
Do you want to make me wear a cuckold’s green hat?”
After stomping on Zimo’s face twice, Song Yun moved away and dragged him by the collar to the sofa like a dead dog.
Glancing at Wu Xin, who was still asleep, he ordered, “Strip.”
“Ah?” Zimo was taken aback.
Could it be that this man was into that sort of thing?
Was his tender behind in jeopardy?
He’d always been the one playing with others’, never imagining he’d see the day it’d be his turn.
“Ah your mom, if I tell you to strip, just strip.
Why are you dilly-dallying like a sissy?
What are you staring at me for, think I’m going to undress you?
Can’t you just cooperate so I can get this over with and go home for dinner?” Song Yun pulled out his phone and took several photos of a distressed Zimo on the sofa, then barked, “If you don’t get undressed, I’ll strip you and throw you out myself.”
After a lengthy inner struggle, Zimo shyly looked at Song Yun and took off his shirt, meekly saying, “Be gentle.”
Hearing that, Song Yun nearly lost it.
He stepped forward and slapped him again, “Take off your pants.”
While Zimo was undressing, Song Yun excitedly snapped several more photos with his phone.
“Not bad, not bad.
Now pretend to look all dreamy, with that ‘speak yet don’t speak’ vibe.
Yes, that’s it: lips slightly parted, right leg spread.
It gives off a look of wanting yet not wanting,” Song Yun coached the naked Zimo lying on the sofa on how to pose.
“Now get on the sofa, arch your body slightly.
You ask what I mean by arch?
Have you never been to bed before?
Exactly, exactly, lift your lower body a bit higher.
It’ll make your round rear look perkier.”
“Now half-crouch on the sofa, stretch out your right leg and put it on the table in front.
Lean your body back slightly, yes, just like that.
One hand covering your chest, the other down there, with a shy yet demanding look on your face.
Good, hold that pose.”
“How’s your flexibility?
Not bad?
Do a split first, then lean towards the right.
Damn it, tuck away your little bird, I don’t want the water meter checked tomorrow.
You’ve got to act like you’re doing yoga, really get into it.”
“You…”
Given a knife right then, Zimo would have killed himself out of humiliation.
He had never been subjected to such indignities in his life, and today’s torment was too much for him to bear.
If he could, he would have curled up on the sofa and wept his heart out.
It was just too bullying.
This bastard was simply a beast.
He had thought he wouldn’t have to offer up his behind, but this torment was even worse, reducing him to less than human.
If he posed well, he would get praise; if not, he’d get a beating.
Wasn’t this kind of treatment only reserved for livestock?
Sobbing and sobbing—a broken man, had been mangled into this state.
Yet he still groped from time to time, truly a lecher.
He too had his pride, and having been taken advantage of, he was now Song Yun’s man.
And the hitting, it wasn’t fair, even though he liked it that way.
In fact, Song Yun didn’t mess with cameras much in his day-to-day life, and certainly couldn’t compare with celebrities like Edison Chen, but he had a strong sense of aesthetics.
In artistic terms, if he focused more on art, he would surely reach the pinnacle of success.
Although Song Yun wasn’t professional, he always managed to capture the expressions that emanated from Zimo: that helpless, lonely, and humiliated look that he found endlessly fascinating.
With these godlike poses, Song Yun was confident that these photos would be classics at a photography exhibition.
On Song Yun’s phone, Zimo appeared seductive, sexy, shy, and haughtily unapproachable, but Song Yun wasn’t satisfied with these.
He wanted more open and daring poses.
In this sober moment, Zimo was no longer the high and mighty gentleman but a man who dedicated himself to art with high-minded ideals.
Song Yun pocketed his phone and picked up the camera from the floor, then said to Zimo, “Make love to the camera with longing eyes.”
“…” Zimo wanted to kill someone.
‘Make love to the camera?’ Could he really look at the camera with longing eyes?
He was a freaking gentleman for crying out loud.
Did Song Yun understand that?
To think that today he’d be forced to take action himself—it was intolerable.
In a flash, a naked Zimo stood up from the sofa, but seeing Song Yun casually holding a gun with a playful look, he resigned himself and sat back.
Preparing himself emotionally, Zimo decided to do it properly if he was going to do it at all.
He played a pornographic film for Song Yun and unspeakably satisfying actions happened in front of the camera.
It was a sight too beautiful for Song Yun, who couldn’t bear to watch, thus he kicked him into the bathroom inside the room.
Ten minutes later, Zimo emerged with the camera.
Song Yun took out the memory card and laughed, “I didn’t expect you’d have such a good figure.
What do you think would happen if these photos got out?”
“Please, I’m begging you, don’t do this.
Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.
Just give me the phone and camera cards, okay?” Zimo was worn out from Song Yun’s torment, drained and unable to get up from the floor.
“No way,” Song Yun smiled.
“If I give them to you, how will I be able to find you when I need you again?
I’ll keep them safe for you.
Oh right, I haven’t introduced myself yet.
My name is Song Yun, a friend of Wu Xin.
What do you think I should do to get revenge for her?”
Revenge?
He hadn’t even finished with him yet?
A flicker in his eyes and Zimo passed out.
Shen Li, who had followed Song Yun, was tied up by Black Flood Dragon and left outside, waiting to be squeezed for some money.
As for those videos and photos of Zimo, Song Yun planned to keep them well, perhaps making that bastard play the role of cannon fodder in the future.
Song Yun carried Wu Xin to the car that was waiting outside and then drove back to her hotpot restaurant.
Amid the strange looks from the staff, he carried her up the stairs to the second floor.