Meghan’s roped up. Tits bound so tight they’re purple. She’s slapped. Spit on. Bleeding in streaks that look like cracked glass across her thighs.
Her hair is wet, and her face stained with permanent marker. Arrows point to her mouth with “FEED ME CUM” scribbled on one cheek. “FUCK HOLE” on the other. She’s panting, drooling, jaw hanging open in a silent scream. A complete mess.
Men hover around. Faceless. Waiting their turn to fill whatever hole isn’t occupied.
But Meghan’s eyes, they’re fixed on me.
Like always.
I remember that day. While the camera zoomed in on her ass, she glanced up at me and touched her tongue to her bloody nostril, just to make me laugh. Always pulling that shit. Trying to carve out a world where it was just us, even in a room full of cameras and cock. Hard to hate a girl like that.
Then the camera pans to us, and like the pro she is, her expression flips from playful to desperate. She claws at my mask. I snap her fingers back, and one dislocates. She cries out, beautifully, a performance we’d choreographed down to the whimper.
The scene is fake. The pain isn’t.
And although I’m masked, I was a fan favorite. They knew my style, my body, my cock.
Unfortunately... Charlotte does, too.
I shut the phone off. My jaw clenches.
She’s frozen. Silent. Her eyes brimming with glossy horror.
“Just fucking great,” I grumble, beyond annoyed she found this. “Why are you watching this?”
She cowers, looking at me like I am Satan himself.
She squeaks: “I wanted to see what you liked. I couldn’t find one with you unless I subscribed to Meghan’s OnlyFans... so, Ifinallydid.”
I stare.
I didn’t want this. Didn’t want Charlotte to look at me with that face. Like I’m pure evil.
Now, her eyes hold a different kind of fear. Not the sexy kind. The ‘he’s gonna kill me’ kind.
She adds, careful and small: “Why did you do those mean things to her? To any woman?”
I squint.
“Because I wanted to.”
She gasps and backs away. “You put her face in the toilet! You must hate women.”
I pause, trying to think clearly, like I am imagining this. I shrug, so damn confused. “I mean, come on. You know how I am. But you also know I love you.”
“I didn’t—” She chokes back a sob. “I didn’t know you reallyhatedwomen.”
Charlotte didn’t say it back.
Like it’s so easy for me to say ‘I love you’ to a girl. She just keeps poppin’ off, pointing at her phone.
“That’s like... so bad, Grayson.”
“Duh.” I look around, still lost. This can’t bethatsurprising.
I step forward, but she shuffles back.
I groan.
