I logged off immediately. I had pulled that trick before on guys—it gave them a sense of danger—a bit of an adrenaline rush. I had just never been able to see the other side of it before. As soon as I was gone, I watched what Hank Matthews did—who he messaged—what he said. He was striking out all around and most of the girls weren’t even responding to his messages. He would get desperate as more time passed. I stayed offline for about twenty minutes before I popped back on—but I didn’t message him. I waited for him to notice and message me again.
TheHankster: Everything okay?
SunshineSoul16: Yeah. My Dad was just telling me to go to bed and stop playing on the computer. :)
TheHankster: Is it past your bedtime already?
SunshineSoul16: Yep! Oh well! I doubt he’ll wake up again.
TheHankster: You’re the kind of girl that likes to be naughty, huh?
SunshineSoul16: Sometimes…
I had him. I kept playing it cool, pushing back against his advances while giving him a little more each time he tried to take the conversation somewhere that it shouldn’t have been going with someone my age. I pushed distrust—concern—worry about random guys online. He tried to reassure me, soothe my concerns—tell me that he wasn’t like other guys. Eventually, he mentioned where he worked, his job, and how much money he made—all things that he probably thought would impress me—and the exact opening I was looking for.
SunshineSoul16: Oh? Wasn’t your company in the news recently?
TheHankster: That was our CEO. He’s dealing with some bullshit. Corporate stuff. :)
SunshineSoul16: Wow, I’ve never met anyone who was friends with a celebrity!
TheHankster: Ha! I wouldn’t say my boss is a celebrity.
SunshineSoul16: Oh. I’ve seen your building downtown. It was cool seeing it on the news!
TheHankster: You should stop in sometime. I’ll give you the grand tour. :)
SunshineSoul16: Really!?!
TheHankster: Sure, want to come by tomorrow? We could get lunch too.
SunshineSoul16: I have school. :( I won’t be free until this weekend.
TheHankster: The building is closed on the weekends. :(
SunshineSoul16: Oh. Too bad.
TheHankster: But…
He played right into my hands. Once I agreed to meet him, he took the conversation in a very sexual direction. I stopped playing coy—and gave him a taste of what he wanted, but not enough to satisfy him. It was just a tease to lure him into the final stage of my trap—the one that would let me turn him into my pawn. I ended the conversation before it could get good but told him I’d be online the following day—and my parents wouldn’t be home. I told him we could talk on video if he wanted, which I was sure would have salivating as he spent the day thinking about the girl that—just might show him her tits.
I swore I’d never do this again, but it’s what I do best, and it might be the only way to save the Jackson brothers.
Lizzy
The next day
As tempting as it was to wait until the weekend and take Hank Matthews up on his offer to tour his building, so I could get inside, I didn’t know if that would give me the access I needed. It was unlikely that a man like Josef Weber would leave incriminating evidence lying around. I needed someone on the inside, and I had them—once they fell deeper into my trap. I took the computers back to my place, set up my bedroom to look like a teenage girl threw up pop culture on the walls, and then waited until my pretend school day was over. I watched as Hank Matthews got online, and a smile spread across my face when I was the first person he messaged. He had been thinking about me all day—I just had to get him to admit it.
TheHankster: Hey there, beautiful.
SunshineSoul16: Hello!
TheHankster: So, your parents aren’t home tonight?
SunshineSoul16: Nope! They just left for a dinner party. I think it’s a date. :)
TheHankster: No brothers or sisters around?
SunshineSoul16: I’m an only child, so I’m here by myself.
TheHankster: Want to turn on your camera for me?
SunshineSoul16: Do I get to see you too?
TheHankster: Of course.
Hank’s company profile picture was taken at least ten years and thirty pounds before he turned his camera on. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, but far from my type. I had pretended before, so I prepared to do my best acting job ever. Seeing me seemed to loosen his inhibitions a lot and I was already loading up all of his personal information on the other laptop. He had a wife, two children, and he was a deacon at his church. I could make all of that come crashing down with the push of a button, but I was going to spare him all of that—at least until I got what I needed. I knew he would cave.
It didn’t take long for him to ask to see my tits. Normally, I never showed them to anyone, but I needed Hank deep in my web. I needed him to believe he was seeing SunshineSoul’s underage nipples—and I was going to show him more too—anything that it took to keep his attention until he was so far gone that there was no way he could talk his way back from the ledge. I finally convinced him to show me his cock—and I stifled my disgust as he started stroking it to my image on the screen. I let my hand fall beneath my desk—pretended to masturbate along with him—getting off on the thought of having him inside me. At least that was what he needed to believe.
“Okay, Mr. Matthews. I believe we’ve had enough fun.” I put my hand back on my desk and leaned back.
“What? I was just about to finish—wait, did you call me Mr. Matthews?” I watched his hand stop stroking and his erection began to fade.
“Yes. Mr. Hank Matthews, husband to Faith Matthews. Deacon at the First Baptist Church in Chicago—the one on Second Street.” I tilted my head to the side.
“What the fuck…” I saw his hand reach towards his camera to shut it off.
“If you end this conversation, then the next thing I do is email a video of what we just did to everyone on your friends list.” I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t want them to see you talking to a sixteen-year-old girl do you—especially with your dick out.”
“Holy shit.” I saw terror in his eyes. “What do you want? Money? I…”
“No.” I shook my head back and forth. “I want something from Weber Acquisitions.”
“My—company?” He blinked in surprise. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m a little dose of sunshine—but not for you.” I exhaled sharply. “Tomorrow, you’re going to walk into work and you’re going to look up a list of companies that Weber Acquisitions purchased—I want everything related to them. I’ll send you a link where I want you to put all of the documents.”
“This is—this is blackmail.” His face turned white. “You can’t do this! My boss tracks everything! He’ll know it was me!”
“What is more valuable to you right now? Your job or your reputation?” I growled under my breath. “You have to choose one of them right now, and if I were you, I’d choose the one that won’t put you in a jail cell with a bunch of men that would love to make you the sixteen-year-old girl.”
“Fuck…” A blank expression settled on his face. “Okay, I’ll do it—but you have to destroy this video!”
“If you put those documents here.” I sent him a link over the chat server. “Then you’ll never hear from me again.”
“I need—proof.” He leaned forward. “How do I know you won’t ask for something else?”
“You don’t, but then again—I think that’s fair.” I nodded slowly. “You should be a little more careful online, Mr. Matthews.”
I shut down the camera and ended our chat session. For the first time, I felt good about what I had done to someone when I took advantage of their fantasies. I felt empowered using my skills for good instead of malice. Mr. Matthews was definitely not going to spend the rest of his life living in fear of me. As soon as I had what I needed, I was going to email all of his chat logs to the authorities. My persona might have been a li
e, but the other girls weren’t—and judging by some of his logs, I wasn’t the first girl that had seen his dick. He was a predator, and he deserved nothing less than everything he was going to get, but I needed his compliance before I could pull the trigger.
Now I wait—and hope he doesn’t grow a spine before tomorrow.
* * *
The next day
I barely got any sleep and as soon as the workday started, I stared at the folder where he was supposed to deposit the documents. Two hours went by and my stomach turned into a knot. I was imagining every scenario possible, and they were all going wrong in my head—until something showed up. A single PDF document. Then more—then the floodgates opened, and they just started pouring into the folder. It was a small victory, but I wouldn’t know if it was a significant one until I was able to go through the documents. I quickly downloaded them to my computer, Wyatt’s computer, and Reynard’s computer. I didn’t want to risk something happening to them, or a random crash destroying the evidence.
The first few documents were useless—just transfer invoices, paperwork, legal jargon, and other nonsense. Then I found one that was signed—signed by a woman named Hannah Clark. That had to be here. Hannah Ashton—her real name was Hannah Clark. I typed her name into a search engine and didn’t find much. The name was too common. I kept digging—going deeper into the documents while adding more details as I found them. I was almost at the end of my search when I noticed that another PDF document had been added to the folder. I hovered over it and as I did, a text document appeared next to it that said Open Me on it.
What’s this?
I opened the text document and it was just a single line that read — This is what you’re looking for. I expect you to hold up your end of the deal. I opened the PDF document and my eyes nearly bulged out of my head—it was a contract. A contract between Hannah Clark and Josef Weber. It detailed how Josef Weber was going to help her acquire her family’s company, Jackson Investments, and in exchange, she would sign over the holding companies that she owned. It might as well have been a confession. It proved that Josef Weber knew what was going on before he bought the shell companies, but more importantly—it also proved that Hannah was not some confused sister that got taken advantage of. She entered into an agreement with Josef Weber and leveraged what she had against her family as an asset.
But in order to get Jackson Investments, she needed a copy of her father’s will—and Wyatt was the only one who had that.
I felt a chill sweep over me—what if Wyatt’s death wasn’t suicide? I turned back to Wyatt’s computer and pulled up the logs from the day he died. I was looking for a software update—and I found exactly what I was afraid I would. The day Wyatt killed himself, or was murdered, someone put a flash drive into his computer. His computer immediately downloaded the software for the model number. If it was a flash drive, he owned that he normally put into his computer, that wouldn’t have been necessary. That meant there was a good chance someone used his computer the day he killed himself—and I pretty convinced that there was only one thing they were interested in copying—his father’s secret will.
If this turns out to be more than a theory, then they killed him—they killed him to get their hands on that will
But if they killed him to cover this up—and Josef Weber tracks everything like Hank Matthews said—I may have just put myself in danger.
I gathered everything I could and left my apartment. It wouldn’t be easy for Weber to find me, but he had the kind of financial assets that Reynard had—it would only be a matter of time. He might not know that I was directly involved with the Jackson brothers, but he would figure that out once he saw what I stole. I decided to hide out at Reynard’s place—I knew I would be safe there at least and he had security cameras—not that I wanted to be there long enough to need them.
Now I need to find someone that I can trust—someone that can get them out of jail and make sure the right people are behind bars instead.
I wished I could ask Reynard or Mauro, but it was too risky to travel to Chicago—that would put me even closer to Weber and I didn’t want to be separated from the evidence I had. I decided that the best course of action would be to call Abigail. If Reynard and Mauro trusted her, she would probably know who to call. A quick conversation with her put me in touch with a man named Robert Fisk, who was an attorney for the Jackson brothers. I emailed him the evidence—and I waited—waited for good news.
But mostly I was waiting for Reynard and Mauro to walk through the door.
Because I wanted them to put me back in my cage.
And I didn’t want them to ever let me go.
Mauro
Jail was becoming nothing short of fucking awful. I hated being locked up, and I was beginning to hate the fact that I had nobody to talk to except Reynard. I dared to have a little bit of hope when he told me that Lizzy visited, especially when he said she was trying to help, but I wasn’t sure what she could do. She was a nineteen-year-old girl who had never worked a day in her life when she wasn’t stealing money from people. I definitely didn’t think that was going to translate very well into our world. For all I knew, she only came to visit because she wanted to get into his house—maybe she had remorse over not taking the check and just wanted to steal what she could. It wasn’t like either of us was going to be able to use it.
“Heads up.” Reynard motioned to two guys that were entering the area where our meals were served.
“Ugh.” I looked down at my tray. “I’ll be glad when they transfer those two to an actual prison—fucking hate being in here with them.”
“Yeah, but they claim they're innocent.” Reynard chuckled under my breath.
“I’m pretty sure the only innocent people in here are us, and we’re not that fucking innocent either.” I shook my head back and forth. “We’re just not in prison for what we really deserve to be in here for.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Reynard eyed me with a glare.
“You don’t see the irony here?” I lifted my head slowly. “Lizzy? What we did to her? The only thing that’s missing is a beat down from those two thugs and a night we want to forget once the lights go out.”
“She wasn’t very innocent either.” Reynard exhaled sharply. “She may not have done what we accused her of exactly, but if we turned over the evidence we had, she would have been someone’s prison bitch.”
“Yeah.” I scoffed. “Instead she became ours.”
I hated myself for finally letting the beast out—for believing it was okay to just take Lizzy’s body and satisfy my own lust. I had a lot of time to think about that while I was sitting in my cell, listening to Reynard ramble about what he was going to do when he finally got out of jail. I wasn’t so sure we're going to see the outside of those walls for a while—and when we did, it might be because we were headed to one that wasn’t quite as accommodating. The judge over our case wasn’t very fond of white-collar prison resorts, and the assault charge Josef Weber had against us was likely to be land us in the same place as the two hulking maniacs sitting a few tables down—awaiting trial for murder.
If we had just managed to control our temper, we might have been able to wait out the SEC investigation and at least let them put the handcuffs on. We had enough influence in New York to end up serving our sentence somewhere with a golf course—not that I really gave a shit about playing golf. Unfortunately, the assault case had been put on hold because the judge wanted to let the SEC finish kicking our teeth in, and the last call from Fisk indicated that they were discussing a government takeover for Jackson Investments. The investors that we seemingly screwed over were out for blood—and why wouldn’t they be? In their eyes—and in the eyes of the rest of the court of public opinion, we were the scum of the earth.
I certainly felt like it.
But it wasn’t because of what happened at Jackson Investments.
It was because of the woman we locked up. We stuck her in a cage and used her for
our own fantasies—that was one thing I would spend my life regretting…
Lizzy was naturally submissive and that was her downfall for a man like Reynard. He twisted her in the darkness, drove her to madness, and then let pain be the only relief she was allowed. He enjoyed that sort of thing, and truthfully, I let myself enjoy it too. I loved having her across my knee, begging for more punishment—and the part that ate me up most of all was how much I did enjoy it. It gave me a freedom that no submissive woman had given me before her, yet I knew that it was wrapped in a blanket of guilt and lies. She might have deserved to be locked up, but we didn’t deserve to be her jailers.
And she still came crawling back for more—even with us locked in here, she couldn’t stay away.
* * *
One hour later
“You’re not going back in your cell.” The guard slammed the door on Reynard’s cell and turned to me. “You’ve got a visitor—your lawyer, Mr. Fisk.”
“Great, more bad news,” I growled under my breath and sighed.
If Fisk had made a trip to Chicago, it was bad news that he needed to deliver in person. We were retaining a local firm that he had been communicating with for our criminal case, so most of them came to deliver the mundane shit. He only made a trip when it was about Jackson Investments, and those visits were never good. I followed the guard to the visitor’s area and was surprised to see a smile on Fisk’s face—the first one I had seen since everything went to absolute shit. I walked over cautiously, wondering if the man had just lost his mind in the midst of everything that happened and the eventual downfall of his biggest client.
“I’ve got—great news.” His smile got even bigger if that was possible.
“We’re getting out of here?” My reply was sarcastic because I didn’t think there was a chance in hell of that happening.
Caged By Them: Descent Into Darkness Page 15