Though it was hard to wrap his head around the idea of Jessie Ramos as porn queen, he was wildly curious to view her site. When he clicked the button certifying he was over eighteen, he was greeted with a video of Jessie, or rather Princess Lola, walking slowly across a room toward a man with a black hood over his face, his hands bound behind his back. As she approached the man, her high heels clicking across the floor, he knelt and lowered his hooded head to the ground.
She stood imperiously over him and raised her whip arm, turning dark, burning eyes heavily outlined in black liner toward the camera. Her large breasts were pushed high, nearly spilling out of the black leather bustier. He could actually see the crescent moon tops of her brown areoles against her tan skin. Unable to control himself, Eric reached into his trousers and fisted his cock.
When the twenty-second video ended, he clicked around the site, which included a dozen or so stills of the sexy Princess Lola, as well as video links with static images of naked or nearly naked men in various stages of bondage. His cock wilted, and he pulled his hand from his pants.
When he clicked on one of the video links, instead of opening, flashing words replaced the image, urging the viewer to “Join now for the low cost of $29.99 per month,” with a hot new video provided weekly, featuring the sexy and delicious Princess Lola as she gave her slave boys the treatment they deserved.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “Where does the little bitch find the time to do this?” He watched the sample video again. Something about the setting looked familiar, but there wasn’t enough there to properly jog his brain.
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet and took out his credit card. He wanted to see Jessie, or rather, Princess Lola in action. Once he entered his information, he was redirected to the home page. This time when he clicked on a video, it opened. The video looked amateur, but still of high quality.
Along one concrete wall hung all kinds of BDSM gear—floggers, paddles, rope, cuffs, chain, canes and whips. A hairy, naked guy stood in the center of the room, his purple, erect cock and balls tied with thin rope in a way that looked quite painful. Clover clamps hung from his nipples. His arms were extended overhead, hanging by cuffs at his wrists that were attached to chains secured in the ceiling.
Princess Lola stood behind the guy, hitting his ass with a wooden paddle, the thudding sound of wood against flesh echoing against the walls of the room. “You are a bad little boy,” she said in a haughty tone. Her voice was deep and strong, nothing like the timid, halting tone Jessie used at the office. It was like she was a whole different person. Eric stared, fascinated at the transformation. “You need to be punished. After I’m done paddling you, I’m going to make you jerk off and then lick it up. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, pussy boy?”
Eric was about to close the video and try another one when he noticed the high horizontal windows above the BDSM gear. They were unusual windows, long and narrow, like the kind he’d seen in warehouses. In fact, like the kind in the warehouse out back.
No. No way. No way in the world. She wouldn’t fucking dare.
Chapman Media rented a suite in a small office building located near one of Houston’s ubiquitous strip malls. Not prime real estate by any estimation, but the rent was cheap and, as the main tenant, he’d been given access to the large storage unit located on the back of the property, though to date they’d had no use for it.
Eric closed the browser and left his office, heading toward the storage closet where spare keys were kept. He found the one labeled warehouse in Jessie’s neat hand. Grabbing it, he headed outside and walked around the building toward the back lot.
As he approached his unit, he saw a hasp had been screwed into the frame of the door, a sturdy padlock locked in place. He pulled at the padlock, examining it more closely. Why would someone padlock an empty unit?
Because it wasn’t empty.
Returning to the office, Eric went through Jessie’s desk, though he didn’t really expect to find the padlock key. He thought about calling her to ask where the key was kept, but decided he wasn’t ready to confront her. Instead he got in his car and drove the few blocks toward a hardware store, where he purchased a pair of bolt cutters and a new padlock. Returning to the unit, he cut through the padlock and stepped into the room, flipping on the light switch by the door.
“Jesus H. Christ,” he whispered in awe. “She’s running it from here.”
There it all was, just like in the videos—the gear, the bondage equipment, the chains—and in a corner, several thousand dollars worth of photography equipment and professional lighting.
Eric moved toward the equipment and unscrewed the top-of-the-line digital camera from the tripod. Turning it over, he found what he was looking for—the small tag with the words Chapman Media, along with the camera’s date of purchase and serial number.
“That little bitch,” he breathed. “What else of mine has she stolen?” There was a wardrobe in the corner of the room, beside a twin mattress covered in red satin sheets. He moved toward the wardrobe and pulled open the doors. Inside were several outfits on hangers, including bustiers, corsets and shiny black latex pants. Pairs of stiletto heels and thigh-high boots were lined neatly beneath the clothing.
He pulled open the row of drawers on the left side of the wardrobe. Inside were all kinds of sex toys, including dildos, vibrators, lubricant, latex gloves, nipple clamps, ball gags, collars and other paraphernalia he couldn’t even identify.
Eric left the makeshift dungeon, relocking the door with the new padlock and pocketing the key. Returning to the office, he opened Jessie’s laptop again and began to search the files more carefully. He didn’t find anything else suspicious. If she used the laptop to upload her videos, she’d been careful enough to delete the evidence once she was done.
Delete…
Using a flash drive, Eric copied his undelete software from his laptop and then downloaded it onto hers, aware that deleted files can still exist since the operating system just removed pointers to these files but didn’t immediately overwrite the space of deleted files. He ran the program, recovering all that he could.
Scrolling through the data, he saw several video file extensions and clicked on the first one. It appeared to be an outtake from one of her porn videos, with Jessie stumbling in her stiletto heels as she walked toward a naked dude tied over a sawhorse. He opened several more, skimming quickly through them.
The fifth one he opened made him stop breathing as he stared, disbelieving, at the screen. A skinny guy with an obscenely big cock was strung up against a wall with plenty of rope. His face was red, the rope around his neck tied like a noose. Princess Lola was in the shot, smacking the guy’s erection with a riding crop.
Suddenly the guy started writhing, his eyes bugging out, his tongue protruding as he jerked and spasmed, his face turning nearly purple.
Princess Lola didn’t seem to be paying much attention at first, focused on the dude’s cock and balls. Finally she figured out something wasn’t quite right, as he began to seize in earnest. Clearly this wasn’t supposed to be part of the scene.
Jessie screamed and dropped the crop, struggling to get the guy out of the ropes and onto the ground. Eric couldn’t tell if he had just passed out or was dead. She bent over him, slapping his face and calling his name, the panic ripe in her voice.
All at once, she looked toward the camera, then lurched toward it, shutting it off.
Eric stared at the blank screen. “Holy fucking Christ,” he swore softly. “What in the hell happened there?”
~*~
The sun was warm on her face as she drifted on the raft. The ocean was a clear, deep blue and the tall, cold drink felt good in her hands, and even better going down.
The persistent sound of the seagull’s cry somewhere near her head was annoying her. “Slave,” she called to her favorite sub boy. “Get that fucking bird away from me.” The sound persisted. Where the hell was her boy? He was going to get a serious beat
ing for this.
Abruptly the bird’s piercing cry stopped, replaced by the ringing of her cell phone.
Jessie sprang awake, nearly tumbling from the couch as she reached for the phone, which was somewhere on the floor. The ringtone played “The Boss” by James Brown. Was Eric calling to fire her, or give her a second chance?
As she fumbled for the phone, she managed instead to knock the half-empty bottle of bourbon onto the rug, where the spilling liquid bloomed in a dark stain.
“Fuck,” she cursed, struggling to sit up and focus. The clock said two thirty. Had she really been asleep for three hours? When she’d come home that morning after Eric basically threw her out, she’d been freaking out, and the unopened bottle of bourbon one of her sub boy clients had given her had looked awfully inviting. It had burned going down, but each successive swallow had pushed Chapman and her troubles a little further from her mind, until she’d fallen into a deep, drunken sleep, filled with beaches and naked slave boys and iced drinks.
Her phone was vibrating near her right foot, and she grabbed it, swiping the screen to accept the call. “Eric,” she said breathlessly, hoping she didn’t sound too frantic. “Sorry, took me a minute to find my phone.”
“Listen, I want you to come in tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock. We have some things to discuss.” His tone was controlled, hard to read.
At least he hadn’t said pack your things and get out. She still had no idea how that damn picture had got on there. Maybe she could still get out of this free and clear. Hopefully he would just lecture her about her moral deficiencies and what it had cost the firm.
She’d always been a good actress, having learned early on at home how to deflect her father’s drunken rages—something her poor mama had never mastered. It hadn’t been that hard to adopt the persona of the proper, eager-to-please worker bee who admired her boss without reservation. She’d ignored his occasional not-so-subtle sexiest remarks. She’d been dealing with guys like that all her life—what woman hadn’t?
Though the dude was good-looking, in a muscle-bound, football player kind of way, and had a certain charm and charisma when he felt like turning it on, he wasn’t as clever as he thought he was, and he’d been fairly easy to manipulate—until now.
She’d gotten careless, assuming no one would ever catch on to what she did after hours in the warehouse. That had been her mistake. Now she had to clean this up. And then maybe it was time to get out and make a fresh start somewhere new.
“I’ll be there, Eric,” she replied meekly. “Thank you.”
Yes. A fresh start. She was sick of that job, anyway, and her real business was doing well. Maybe she’d just get the warehouse cleared out and hit the road. Fuck Eric and his lectures. She’d be long gone by morning.
Jessie hauled herself off the couch and went into the kitchen, where she made a pot of strong coffee. She drank two cups and made herself a sandwich while she pondered what to do.
She was still paying off poor Johnny for his “pain and suffering” after that seizure episode a few months back, but with a little luck, she’d be done in a year or so, and back to racking up pure profits.
That had been the main thing that still kept her tethered to the Chapman Media job. Once she got solvent again, she had already planned to hit the road and go legit. She would rent real studio space and maybe even hire someone to help her shoot more professional videos.
Okay, so things had changed. Time for a new plan. The damage was done. There was no going back. She’d rent a truck and go there tonight, as soon as it got dark. With a little luck, she could return the cameras and equipment she’d borrowed to the office with no one being the wiser. Then she’d pack her few possessions and hit the road.
Though Eric often worked late during the week, he usually took the guys out for a beer on a Friday. When she pulled into the lot, she was relieved to see it was empty. She parked the truck just beside the entrance to the warehouse and hopped out.
Glancing left and right, she quickly let herself into the building and moved toward the unit. When she inserted the padlock key into the lock, it wouldn’t turn.
What the hell?
She bent down, looking more closely at the padlock. A cold gush of panic spurted through her veins. Someone had changed the lock.
She heard a rustling sound and swung around. Eric stood there, his smile grim. Clearly, he must have been waiting for her. She was definitely busted. He held up a padlock key.
“Looking for this?”
Chapter 2
“Dios mio, you scared the crap out of me!” Jessie’s tone was strident, even indignant. She was dressed in a tight-fitting black tank top and black jeans over red cowboy boots. Her dark hair hung down past her shoulders and the color was rising in her cheeks.
Eric lifted his eyebrows, amused and intrigued by this new persona—the real Jessie. He stepped beside her and put the key into the padlock he’d purchased that afternoon. Opening the door to the unit, he gestured her inside.
“You’re a little early for our meeting. I meant nine in the morning, not at night. But then, you knew that,” he said. When she didn’t respond, he added casually, “Care to show me around?”
Instead of entering the space, Jessie took a step back. “Look, it’s not what you think—” she began.
“Oh? And what is it I think? Why don’t you tell me, Princess Lola?”
She turned her large, dark eyes on him. They filled with tears, one spilling down her cheek. “Please, Eric,” she said, now using the soft, submissive voice she used in the office. “I—I wasn’t doing any harm. I’ll get it all cleared out right away.”
No harm, except maybe killing some poor fucker, Eric thought, but he held his tongue, not yet ready to tip his hand. “What’s your hurry? Aren’t you going to give me a tour? You’ve got quite the setup here.”
Jessie’s eyes darted nervously past Eric, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. He could tell she was weighing her options as she tried to decide what to do. He almost felt sorry for her.
She took a sudden step to the side, but Eric, anticipating the move and shifting just as fast, positioned himself between her and the exit. He put his hand on her upper arm. “You’re not going anywhere, Jessie. Don’t even think about it.”
With obvious reluctance, Jessie allowed herself to be propelled into the room.
Eric quickly closed the door and used the unit key to lock it from the inside. Pocketing the key, he moved toward the rack of BDSM gear and picked up a wicked-looking whip. “You really need to know what you’re doing to handle one of these, eh?” He put it back and lifted out a flogger with dozens of thick, soft leather strands. Running his fingers through the supple leather, he turned to her with a smile. “I prefer one of these babies, at least to start with.”
Jessie’s eyes widened.
“What?” Eric asked with feigned innocence, enjoying the look of surprise on her face. “Think you’re the only one with secrets?” He put the flogger back and selected a cane, whipping it through the air, grinning as Jessie winced. Maybe he’d make her drop her jeans right then and there. He’d paint some pretty welts on that hot ass of hers. The thought made his cock hard, but it was just a fantasy.
He put the cane back and walked over to the high-end digital camera. “I saw you pull up in that rental truck. Were you planning to clear the company equipment away too? I guess you were just running me a line about meeting me at the office in the morning, huh?”
“No, no, of course not,” Jessie protested. “I came to put everything back. I just forgot this one time.” Clearly flustered, she added, “Um, I mean, this was the first time—”
“Spare me.” Eric cut her off. The chick couldn’t lie worth shit. “I don’t believe a word you’re saying, so save the act.” He moved closer. “You can cut the crap, Jessie. I did some exploring today. I know about your site. I know all about it.”
He watched Jessie’s face to see how she reacted to this, but her expression
was hard to read behind the liquid brown eyes. “There’s nothing illegal going on. I swear,” she said earnestly. “I don’t have sex with those guys for money. I just make the videos and post them on the site. That’s all.”
“That’s all, huh? And just how much are you grossing for this little operation?”
Jessie frowned, her face closing. “That’s none of your—”
“Business? Oh, I think it is.” He moved closer, towering over her. “You’ve been using my property and my equipment to record your dirty movies. I want to see the numbers. I want to see how much you take in and I want a piece of the pie.”
Jessie’s mouth fell open, shock and confusion registering on her face as she digested what he’d said. Clearly she hadn’t expected his wanting in.
“That’s what I said,” Eric reiterated, pleased with himself. “A piece of the pie, a share in the profits.”
She crossed her arms over her breasts. “You have no right—”
“I think I do. Your little indiscretion this morning cost me a bundle, and who knows what kind of liability you’ve opened up by running this porn racket in my warehouse. I want restitution, and I want it in cold, hard cash, babe.”
He moved closer still, and she backed away, fear sparking in her large, dark eyes. He could break her in half if he wanted to. He could throw her down, rip off those jeans, and rape her, his hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her screams.
His cock bulged painfully in his jeans. He continued to advance on her until he’d backed her against a wall. Placing a hand on the wall on either side of her shoulders, he leaned down so close their noses almost touched.
“You’ll agree to my terms and you won’t make a peep of protest, you hear me? You won’t try to take off. If you do, I’ll find you, and I’ll make your life a living hell. You see, I’m onto you, princess.” He paused, watching her eyes widen, aware he had her. “I found the outtake, too, Jessie. I saw that guy flailing in his restraints. I’m sure the police would be very interested in that video—”
Dark Obsessions - Volume 2: Four Dark, Delicious Capture Fantasies Page 20