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They made her squirt twice on camera — powerful, humiliating jets that sprayed across the bed and onto the lenses while the cameras zoomed in for extreme close-ups of her spasming cunt. By the end of the session, Sophia was a complete wreck. Her face was glazed with thick layers of cum. Her tits and swollen belly were painted white. Her pussy and asshole gaped openly, leaking heavy rivers of seed onto the sheets. She stared blankly into the cameras, broken, dripping, and shamefully aroused. Victor Blackthorn smiled at the monitor. “This footage is going to break the internet in our circles. By the end of the week, she’ll be begging to star in her own OnlyFans under our control.”

Someone reposted it with the caption: “Stolen Chic? Venice McLaren Can’t Afford Class.” She issued a statement. It was five words: “This is a misunderstanding. Stop.” Internet: Didn’t. And then... oh, Era. My sweet, delusional cousin. Tomas hit play on a screen recording. It showed her OnlyFans dashboard. She hadn’t even changed her username—it was literally @ErabelleMcLarenVIP. Her subscriber list? Her direct manager from the PR agency. A dean from her college. Three married professors. A man labeled “PastorGreg_77.”

I got to Velvet an hour early again. Mikela clocked it immediately. “That’s twice this week.” “Slow day,” I said. Same answer. She let it go the same way. I was halfway through my makeup when she leaned into the doorway. “Your VIP clients came in last night,” she said. I still went. “When?” “Late. Didn’t request anyone. Just sat at the bar for an hour and watched the floor.” She tilted her head slightly. “Left without booking anything.” I turned back to the mirror.

Because last night my best friend Sarah sent me the link, and I spent hours watching Professor Nadia Vale get absolutely destroyed on camera. My phone vibrates under the desk. Sarah again. Another message: “Watch this one. You’re gonna lose it.” I click the link discreetly, volume low, earbuds hidden. The OnlyFans page loads — “ProfessorNadiaSecret.” The newest video starts playing. There she is. Professor Nadia on her knees in what looks like a fancy hotel room, glasses fogged up, mascara already running as she chokes on a massive thick cock. Her huge tits are out, bouncing heavily as the guy fucks her throat raw. “That’s it, you strict little slut,” the guy groans on the video. “Take every

Be careful what you ask for. His words translated as a gift- claiming that he'd essentially drain the life out of me in the most provocative way. Moving away from my body for a second, I felt his weight return in front of me along with the sound of a vibration. Pulling down on the restraints, I felt the object against my sternum. Getting wax poured on you was one thing, getting overstimulated as a punishment was a whole nother. Good job, Eve. Running the vibrator over each breast,

More than anything. Celeste called during the car ride back, again, and Wes ignored it. Again. She watched the name light up on his screen like a reminder of every lie this life had been built on. Celeste, the not-so-secret mistress. Vivienne, the porcelain doll for the public. She looked down at her belly, its appearance unchanged, and wondered what her baby would see when they grew old enough to understand the world. Would they think she hadn’t tried hard enough to get away?