“Donatella don’t play!”

Donatella was a mother of 2, hustlin everyday to make ends meet for her family. She lived in Staten Island but her dream was to move overseas with her kids. Her ex-husband Michael was serving a lifetime sentence for a string of mob-related murders. The Feds bombarded their chateau at 5am in the morning, kick-door style, to arrest Michael… And after that she lost everything. She had a couple of businesses: hairdresser by day, exotic stripper by night. She’d swing around the fucking pole like there was no tomorrow for them singles, knowing damn well her baby needed some Versace shoes for school. This bitch didn’t play about her fashion either. Her last name may not have been Versace but that’s basically all she wore. Versace this, Versace that, Versace Versace Versace on the bitch.

It was a typical shitty Monday for Donatella. Business at the salon was dry as ever so she spent most of her time Snapchatting her mob sisters Gina & Giulietta. Then when her 1 o’clock customer came in, she burned some of her hair right off. Donatella didn’t know what to say to the lady, she was so distracted. Ol’ girl ended up stepping out with an Erykah Badu wrap on her head. The fact that she didn’t have a man by now was really starting to get to her. Finally at 5 she picked her kids up, made dinner, and tucked them in goodnight… Right before she busted out the catsuit.

They were making it rain so heavy at the strip joint you almost needed an umbrella. Niggaz went crazy over Donatella’s Catwoman ensemble with the whip attached. She was White Girl Wasted on the stage, allowing the freak to slip out of her harder than ever. The pole shined against the LED lights as all eyes shifted on her. Donatella’s stage name was Kitty Kat and she lived up to it well: prancing around in her gold Versace heels and meowing at the audience. Then she climbed to the top of the pole and swung directly down like a fireman in that bitch. It wasn’t long before a stranger asked Kitty Kat to the back for a private lapdance.

The VIP section was empty yet reeked of that coochie-on-leather smell. That didn’t stop Kitty Kat from hustling her client for every damn dime and dollar he had. The dude posted up on a couch as she spread it out in front of his face. He tucked some bills in her G-string and snapped it back on her. Kitty Kat waved her ass in a circle then dropped to her knees. The man told her his name was Vince and he had been drawn to her for months. She didn’t want hear it, so she kept dancing and beckoning him to tip. Vince was excited beyond the boundaries of containment: He lost control and sexually attacked Kitty Kat. None of the bouncers were in sight as he pinned her to the floor, covered her mouth, and snatched off her G. That’s when the Mob Wifey in Donatella came crawling out of the woodwork.

She writhed around while he raped her. Then she managed to kick back her heels on his balls and it was over with. He cringed in pain as Donatella rose from the floor and dug the point of her pump into his right eye. Blood and pus shot out from the gouge. One of the bouncers finally came in to check on things only to find Donatella bashing the man’s head in with her stilletos. She went ham turkey on his skull until the brains were exposed. The bouncer grabbed Donatella away from the carnage and she screamed at the top of her lungs. She didn’t want a single person touching her, let alone a fucking man. Donatella clonked the bouncer on his bald head with her clogs and they both fell to the floor. The bitch was a foaming rampage…