Captured (Vice, Virtue & Video Book 2)

by Bianca Giovanni

  We both shuffle out to the living room, and everything feels so awkward. Can I still sit back with my legs on his lap or would that be too weird now? When he goes home tonight, is it still okay to give him a kiss on the cheek or has everything taken on a warped, sexual context after what happened?

  I think I’ll have to ignore these wayward thoughts, to delete the past twenty minutes from my mind and act like it never happened. I’m going to sit exactly how I used to, I’m going to hug him or kiss him on the cheek like I used to, and I’m going to stop freaking out about the lingering possibility that I’m in love with him. It’s not real, it’s not significant, it doesn’t matter, and I have to stop thinking about it.

  We’re both glued to the screen watching Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny as I try to halt my racing mind. Thankfully, I feel a lot looser after a half hour of laughs, and I’m having an easier time putting this whole thing out of my mind. I start to get sleepy, as I always do during our nightly TV watching, and I can feel myself nodding off as we watch The Colbert Report. James’s strong arms reach around me, and I can feel him lift me off the couch like I’m Scarlett O’Hara. I wrap my arms around him and nuzzle into his chest.

  “Stay,” I drowsily murmur, too tired to shut off the longing in my heart.

  “Stay over?” he asks, trying to decipher my somnambulant request.

  “Mmm-hmm. Stay with me.”

  He kisses the top of my head and carries me to my bed. In my bedroom, he looks away as I ungracefully peel off my clothes to put on pajamas—which is both funny and sweet considering he just had me naked in here. I get under the covers, and he stands at the side of the bed and looks down at me with a loving expression on his face. I’m hoping he’s agreed to stay with me, but I don’t have the energy to follow up. He may have had a point when he told me that orgasms can really wear you out.

  I’m elated when I hear him pulling down his zipper and shrugging out of his jeans. The bed moves, and I smile as he crawls under the covers with me. Immediately, I turn to face him, and he leans on his side, draping his arm over me. I love him so much right now, even though I’m trying my best to convince myself that I don’t. I snuggle up to him and put my arm around him, too. He kisses my forehead and strokes my hair a few times before he leans back to turn out the light and then curls up around me again. If I’d known that falling asleep in James’s arms was so lovely and enjoyable, I would have done it every night since I moved out here.

  Chapter 10

  James

  IT’S THE DAY I’ve been dreading, the day I have to shoot my second scene with Savannah Slade. Rick and I had a huge fight about this a few days ago when he first broke the news that I was locked into a deal with Eva. The last thing I wanted was to go through another traumatic scene like my first one with Savannah, and I told him that very clearly, but Rick told me that Eva is paying him two hundred thousand dollars for me to shoot nine more scenes with her. That’s a fuckin’ absurd amount of money, and Rick said he’d give me seventy percent of that, which could completely pay off Lola’s student loan and pad my savings account until it’s busting at the seams. Still, I fuckin’ hate that I’m here right now, on this dingy dungeon set, getting ready to do some awful shit to this broken shell of a girl.

  I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything right now, and my mind feels scattered. I keep replaying last night in Lola’s bedroom. I felt kind of guilty at first, because I knew she was sort of apprehensive, but all that turned around when she started moaning and panting. Her sounds were so pretty. She was nervous and a little scared, I could tell, but once she let go, she really got into it and it was fuckin’ beautiful.

  I think about the smoothness of her skin when I slid her jeans down her legs. I’ve always thought she had totally sexy legs. I remember kissing below her cute little belly button and the way her nipples were all firm and perky when I sucked on them. I think about how nervous she was when I took her panties off and how I had to ease her legs apart so I could get at her. Once she did open up for me, I was able to look upon the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. I know a lot of people compare that part of the female body to a flower, but she really was like some kind of pretty, pink blossom you’d find in one of those Martha Stewart manicured gardens.

  I find myself unconsciously licking my lips as I recall her sweet taste. If she was nervous about tasting bad, she was way wrong. In fact, I think she tasted better than any girl I’ve ever gone down on. The nectar of the fuckin’ gods, I swear. I couldn’t stop myself once I started, and I kept lapping up her sweetness as she got more and more wet. Fuck! It was so hot! I wanted to eat that girl like she was Thanksgiving dinner, and I would have if she’d let me.

  I kept going until I could feel her body reaching overload. I think I must have made her come four or five times, which made me feel like I should get some kind of Olympic medal. I knew Lola could come really hard, but I didn’t know she was one of those multiple orgasm kind of girls. Needless to say, I was very pleased to find out.

  I wonder if she’d let me do it again. Maybe I could get her to ten this time. I want to feel the way her hips rocked and her legs started shaking one more time. Just one more. She might consider it. Maybe. Perhaps. It’s possible.

  Just the thought of licking Lola’s sweet little pussy again is getting me hard. I stroke myself a couple times to take it the rest of the way. I’ll file this memory of Lola as something that can help me at work when I need a little boost to get there. Somehow, that makes it okay to fantasize about her the way that I do. It’s for work. Strictly professional. I can picture doing all sorts of sexy things with her because those kinds of thoughts help me with my job. That makes it totally fine to want to fuck my best friend…right?

  As I’m getting prepared, Eva, who will be directing today’s scene, saunters over to have a little chat with me. She hasn’t even opened her mouth yet, but I’m already annoyed as hell.

  “I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses and given in to me,” she purrs. “You must understand, you are mine, James. I bought you from Rick, and you are my property now. You will do as I say or there will be consequences.”

  “You can’t take me to court over not torturing Savannah.” I scoff at how ridiculous the idea is. I’d imagine the last thing she would want is a court case, because I’ve heard she’s done some not-quite-legal shit in her past videos.

  “No, no. I solve problems my own way.” She raises an eyebrow like she’s daring me to question her.

  “I’m not Savannah, you can’t just threaten me into doing what you want.” I scowl at her.

  “If I need to, I will break you as I did Savannah. I have no need for threats because you will do as I say.” She glares at me.

  “Whatever. Let’s just get this the fuck over with.”

  In truth, I am a little scared of Eva, of what she does and who she knows. I heard a story a long time ago about an actress who suddenly went missing after she got wrapped up with Eva’s whole creepy world. A week later, they found her body all cut up Black-Dahlia style. It was never officially connected to Eva, but everybody assumed she was involved. Rumor has it that the girl was basically raped on camera and the guy accidentally strangled her, so they tried to make it look like some grisly copycat murder and dumped the body. It might not be true, but the fact that a rumor like that is even out there is some scary shit, and I don’t want to fuck with that at all.

  I’ve got a migraine already and a growing lump in my throat as I step in front of the cameras. It’s just me, Savannah, and Eva—no lighting guys, no boom mic operators, no makeup artists. She likes to shoot this way because she knows she can boss around her performers if there’s nobody around to object to all the fucked-up shit she wants us to do. I’m doing my best to not think about what I have to do today. Eva’s instructions were pretty bad, and now that she thinks she owns me or something, I know it’s going to be even worse.

  An hour into the shoot and I’ve completely zoned out. I’m on au
topilot, and I’m doing whatever Eva demands. Today, she seems keen on testing the limits of Savannah’s endurance and I feel like I’m looking down from outside my body as I torture her. This is abuse, plain and simple, and I can’t believe I’m doing it. I wish Savannah would scream or cry or something. I know this hurts, I know it’s wrong and that Eva won’t let me stop, but I wish Savannah would say something, do something to show Eva that she can’t take this pain and that she wants to end this. If she would just make some kind of objection, it would give me a good excuse to stop.

  I lose my hard-on more than once from the sheer horror of what I’m doing. Eva definitely isn’t pleased with this because it means pausing for a moment while I try to think about something sexy to get me back up again.

  What’s freaking me out even more is that the source I’m using to get hard is none other than my best friend in the world. No matter how much I try to picture someone else, to remember some sexy moment from my past or imagine some kinky scene with one of my co-stars, I keep seeing Lola. Only now, it’s not just flashbacks of last night. I’m envisioning a whole scenario where I’d lay her down on the bed and kiss her passionately. I’d slide inside her and know that I was the only man to ever feel her this way. She’d give herself to me and I’d make sweet, sweet love to her for hours. I’d make her come a zillion times and she’d tell me she loved me. It’d be like some kind of romantic scene from a movie instead of all this S&M shit I usually do now.

  The very fact that I’m fantasizing about her telling me she loves me, instead of her with her ankles behind her head, has me worried. It’s one thing to picture fucking the shit out of her in some ultra hot situation, but it’s a whole different ball game to imagine a serious, loving relationship with her. I’m not thinking about plowing her; I’m thinking about making love to her. I’m thinking about taking her virginity, and that’s totally fucked-up. No matter how much I try to shake these thoughts, they keep racing through my head.

  The time has come for the finale—thank God!—and Savannah drops to her knees to service me. I’m definitely not going to come if I think about this. She’s working her tongue and taking me deep in her throat, but even though it’s a quality blowjob, I’m not getting any pleasure from it. I close my eyes and think happy thoughts. I’m going through a montage of all my hottest moments, both on and off-screen, but it isn’t working. In fact, I’m getting more frustrated, which is only making things worse. Right now, I know there’s only one thing that’s going to work.

  I take a deep breath and allow myself to think of Lola. I love the way her hair is all shimmery in the sun. I love the way those honey brown eyes sparkle when she’s happy. They’re so big and pretty, like a Disney princess. I love the way she giggles whenever I use some graphic term to describe a sexual act. I loved cuddling up with her last night and holding her while she slept. I’m really hoping I can do that again sometime soon because it was the most warm and serene experience I’ve had in years—or maybe ever.

  Now that I’m letting myself concentrate on Lola, I start thinking about her sexy qualities, not just stuff I appreciate about her as a person. I think about how smooth and soft her skin was on my fingertips when I was caressing her inner thighs. I think about those pretty little nipples and how much it turns me on to get them hard and perky like that. I think about how her stomach shivered a little when I started kissing below her belly button. I think about her sweet taste on my lips and the soft, pretty little moans she was making as she neared climax. I’m pretty sure that giving her that kind of pleasure was the proudest moment of my life, on par with the first time I made her come. I wish I could do that every day, just to hear those beautiful sounds and know that I was the one to get her off. It’s with her little whimpers in my ears that I finally manage to finish the scene.

  It’s over and I can’t wait to leave. I’m literally running out to my car when who should stop me, yet again…

  “You did a very good job today,” Eva says in her sinister purr.

  “Tell that to Savannah,” I scoff, getting a chill from the quick flashback of today’s violent object insertions.

  “Savannah will be fine.” She shrugs. “I’ve given her much harsher punishments than this. You’ll see. Next time she disobeys me, I think I’ll have you test out her lung capacity.”

  “Why are you doing this, Eva?” I say, my voice weak with disgust.

  “Because I can, James.” She smirks. “The people who buy my videos are willing to pay an exorbitant sum for something real, something genuine. This isn’t like those silly pretend movies you did before. This is pain, real pain. It’s so primal. If the pain isn’t real, they won’t empty their pockets the way that they do now.”

  “I’m not doing this anymore,” I firmly declare.

  “Oh, but I think you are. You’re locked in for eight more scenes, James, and you will do whatever I demand to Savannah or any other girl I choose.”

  “That’s bullshit! The contract doesn’t work like that. You can’t lock me into doing something that crosses my limits.”

  “It’s not the contract you should be worried about,” she says menacingly. “It’s my friends who enforce the contract that should concern you.”

  I wish I could beat the living shit of her right here in the parking lot, but I don’t hurt women—well, I thought I didn’t hurt women. Who the fuck have I become?

  “You know, James,” she says with a sinister grin, “there is one other way to handle things.”

  My jaw clenches as I glare at her, knowing what’s coming.

  “That little girlfriend of yours. Let my audience see you claim her and I’ll give you all the money and tear up the contract.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Eva!” I explode. “Don’t ever fuckin’ mention her again!”

  “Temper, temper, Mr. Langdon.” She shakes her head, making a tsk-tsk noise. “You get so riled up about her. I think I will mention her again. I’ll mention her again and again, whenever I please, for as long as you’re mine. I enjoy seeing you angry like this. It will make for a better scene.”

  That’s the whole point, isn’t it? This is all part of Eva’s sicko power trip. She wants me to violate something I find beautiful so she can show that she controls me. Well, fuck that!

  “Here are your choices, James,” she says flatly. “You can either fulfill your obligation to me and do what I require, or you can take her, your little friend. What was her name again? Oh, yes, Lola. That’s right,” she says, dragging out Lola’s name like it’s slipping off the forked tongue of a snake.

  “I don’t want to hear her name coming out of your fuckin’ mouth again!” I say, unable to contain myself as I grab Eva’s shoulders and slam her against my car.

  “So forceful. I like that in a man.”

  I let go of her, and I can feel all my muscles tense with rage. “You’re a twisted bitch, you know that? You’re fucked-up in the head.”

  “Why, thank you. Let me ask you something, James,” she says. “Do you love her? You get so upset whenever I mention her that I can only assume you do.”

  I’m radiating anger right now, and I can’t even answer her.

  “You love her, so why not take her?” She clenches her fist like she’s snatching something out of the air. “Why not claim her as your own? Would you rather someone else did it? Someone who might defile her as you did Savannah?”

  “You made me do that shit to Savannah!” I shout with outrage.

  “But there are men who enjoy doing ‘that shit’ to women in the real world. Do you want your little Lola’s first time to be forceful? Traumatic? Wouldn’t it be better for her to give herself to someone who loves her, someone she trusts?”

  This bitch might as well sprout horns and hoofed feet because I’m pretty sure she’s the fuckin’ devil! She’s using Lola to get me to do what she wants, and I know that, but I’m so pissed off that I can’t process it.

  “It doesn’t have to be rough. How about that concession?” She smirks, de
lighted that she’s wound me up so much that the vein is bulging in my forehead. “No ropes, no whips. Just you taking her and the evidence to prove it. I want to see pain, I want to see blood, and if you deliver, I’ll release you from any and all further obligations to me and deliver you the full sum I offered to Rick.”

  I have nothing to say to her. I just want to get away from this vile, nasty bitch. I get in my car and slam the door, tearing out of the parking lot and speeding down the street. I feel a wave of nausea as I’m driving, and I have to pull over to throw up outside the door.

  When I get to the apartment complex, Lola still isn’t home. Frankly, I’m glad. I can’t face her today. I can’t look her in the eye after what I did to Savannah, can’t give her a smile like I’m not going through some serious shit because of Eva, can’t hug her or touch her after knowing how brutal I’ve been with another girl.

  I throw the chain lock on my door so she can’t come in, and I get into my bed. It’s not even dark outside, but I pull all my blinds and confine myself to my bedroom. I don’t sleep at all that night; I just shiver at the memories of what I’ve done and try my best to think about what I should do to get out of this.

  Chapter 11

  Lola

  JAMES HAS BEEN AVOIDING ME, and I’m bummed out about it. Not forty-eight hours ago, we were sharing an intimate and loving moment, and now he won’t answer his door when I knock or even return my texts.

  I’m worried that there’s something wrong with me, that he didn’t feel the same way as I did about our little experiment the other night. Maybe I was reading it incorrectly that night and I was just projecting the strong emotions I felt onto him in hopes that he felt them too. Maybe I was right and James can’t actually love anyone. Then again, maybe he’s just busy or tired or otherwise occupied. I’m attempting to convince myself that it’s one of those simple reasons, but I still don’t feel right about it.

  I decide to get to the bottom of this. If he won’t talk to me at home, maybe I can track him down and confront him at Rick’s office. Last I heard, he’d been going down there a lot to talk about his new sex toy line. I don’t really care if he’s in the middle of an important meeting; I need to see him and clear all this up.