Mx Female Draivins Emporium - Smut focused, with plot - NSFW

[DraivinAiNeghavi]

-Added starters, see below (check out the writing style too-
-straight to the good stuff? Skip the intro and go for the kinks and plot bunnies-

Welcome dear reader!

Imagine yourself in a Marketplace, a souk, a system of alleyways, every next corner giving you a whole new world to be found. You can hear the shouting of Merchants, all begging for your attention. Freshly caught fish, living lobsters, shells, cheeses, spices, vegetables, a selection of meats. Everything to feed you and leave you well satisfied. But not only food, no… to your left someone is appraising his lamps loudly, to light up your dark nights… around the next corner statuettes in all shapes and sizes… did the seller say they'd keep you company? If you walk to the next section, you will find yourself rows upon rows of barrels with beer, wine, porter... Each article, each item has a story evolving around it. Each merchant will gauge what you want, what you'd need and try to sell you some of his or her wares. Some priced steep… some cheap.

Perhaps there is a path in all this chaos. The shouts in those warm voices, trying to tell you it is their collection you need to be looking at. Somewhere in the distance a classical guitar playing. But the acoustics get lost in the bustle of the crowds. Someone brushing past you in a rush, others standing still, annoyingly in your way checking out the wares. There is a pleasant warmth, you are dressed lightly, the thin fabric brushing over your soft skin with each step. It might be that the silken sensation is from one of the stalls in the back, you’ve been here before? Someone is haggling as you pass, for that fish, and it sounds as if a kings ransom should be paid. Is it freshly caught? Or will the whiff of scent might tell you otherwise. The glassy eyed open mouth stare, the shimmering of scales reminding you of something else, a picture you've seen? A slight startle as you hear a pig squealing, is it ready for the slaughter?



I’ve been on this site for a long while, I’m looking for long term partners to write with. I can stay in an rp for months and years. I tend to start with an outline of plot to take us off as I do not want to fix us down too much. You'll find I work with general pairings, ideas on my own character without trying to dabble too much into your character development. I would wish for us to combine our creativity, so let's weave a story.

In me you will find a detailed roleplayer. I write everything from three paragraphs to pages of text per post. You can find some of my writing work on other sites, but I’ve added starters below. For me, it is all in the detail. I will try to give you as much of it as possible. You do not have to respond to each and every move, but it is a given to try to immerse ourselves into the story. If you end up feeling like you are there, if you can close your eyes and can see it, smell it and feel it, then I've reached my purpose in RP.

You will find I roleplay for the plot, but have a heavy focus on the smut as well (I'm a smut writer at heart). I have no rules in our interaction. Just a few simple requests. Try to reciprocate some of the details given, though I enjoy submission in a partner and play dominant males, don't let me play on my own. Be the brat, take the initiative, surprise us. I think I am friendly over private messages, if you have a hard time replying: don't hide, just give me a heads up. I am in it for the long run. One of my partners on another website I've been playing with for years now. And please, don't ghost. If you're done; tell me.

Kinks

If there is a quick mark up on kinks I tend to like, it would be the rougher side of sex. So dominance, the use of toys, hair pulling, spanking, anal, the risk of pregnancy, sex in public places with the risk of getting caught, power struggles, gagging, face-fucking, squirting, dirty talk, rimming (him on her), adultery, threesomes (especially of a FFM variety, but also willing to play two males to your female).

Face claims

I tend to use pictures: a lot of them, to shape my stories. Of places, but also of people. For males I use models, types as Tyson Beckford, Hugh Jackman, Ben Hill, Mrad Mouawad. For females, appearance wise I'm from #TeamShallow. Hourglass figures, heavy cleavage and whatnot. Types as as lovely as Abigail Ratchford and Anastasiya Kvitko, as tough as Christy Mack, as exotic as Fanny Neguesha.

Plot bunnies

I write in modern realistic or science fiction scenarios mostly. Perhaps a dalliance in politics, a night out in the club, the next door neighbor, the boyfriends father, the gym instructor, a blind date, a coworker, the airline pilot, a well off businessman, the backroom of a strip club, the artist, the towns most coveted bachelor, a patriarch to a mob family, a local pimp, the teacher or just a good friend... The star ship captain, the slave owner, the builder of cyborgs, the trader in hyperdrive parts, the bountyhunter, the storm trooper, the fighter pilot...

Starters
I’ve posted worked out starters below. We don’t have to use them, we can set up something new. But they give you an insight of my style and possible plots.

Taking over the strip club
To her surprise; new management is suddenly announced. Exit the repulsive owner and in comes that behemoth of a man. But; doesn’t she know him?

In the gym
He has been interested in her for months, finally he convinces her for a private lesson. Can be sprinkled with adultery, risks, or anything else you’d like to toss in.

The boyfriends father
Her slightly boring and nerdy boyfriend would provide her an escape from a live on the edge. Was she sure to leave her old life behind?

What a friend
She has been secretly texting a friend of her husband behind his back. Now, as their fate turned, they will have to live at his place for a while…

Everything has gone south, a story of blackmail
He has had his eyes on her for a long while. Hacking into her phone and socials; he finds out she has a girlfriend. Her conservative, Christian background will lure her and her friend into his carefully spun web.


In real life I have a demanding job which can run into weeks of sixty hours sometimes. Which also means I keep my ballbook short. Just a few rps consecutively to focus on. I tend to use RP as a relaxant, a place to escape. I am a bit older than some on this site, it also means I have played on the net since it's very creation, over half my life now. I have no current relationship, but am a single father to two kids. Combine that with a pretty intense job...

Time-wise; I live in Europe and am on Central European time. For most on this site it makes it tougher to chat up to one another. As my finding is that the majority here are in the Americas. You can always shoot me messages on PM through this site though. And for an opening shot, please, please, make it more than a one line? Oh! .

Disclaimer: English is not my native language. I think I am proficient enough in the language, but there is always room for improvement.

 

[DraivinAiNeghavi]

-Taking over the strip club-

A gunshot rang out. The glock bucked in his hand. There was no sound from the body dropping onto the hard sand. No last moan, no last sigh. The smoke coming from the barrel curled lazily into the air as he watched the man he had just ended lay on the ground of the Nevada desert. His dirty t-shirt could hardly still be called white. His brown shorts did not hide the chubby physique. Blood was trickling onto the sand. Matt had no wish to take a look at the face. His experience with these sort of deeds gave him the knowledge that it would mostly be shattered. The entry wound on the back of the head might be small, but the exit wound on the front would always be messy. Less chance of an identification, most guys of his kind would think. But he knew that identification could be done in all sorts of ways in these modern times.

He walked back to the truck. Out of the back, he pulled two canisters of gasoline. When he drove off, five minutes later, there was a bonfire burning in the sight of his rearview mirror. Taking away the last remains of the man that had once been Jerry. A filthy bastard who owned the Desert Fox club in Galconda Nevada. The club was situated on route 80, from Reno to Salt Lake city. He had dragged Jerry out of his club, when the place was not open yet. They had spoken a couple of times about a take-over, but Jerry was not cooperating. In the end, threats, blackmail, a couple of fights… Matt knew Jerry had told his girls that he was thinking of selling up. So this was the moment to take action. The strapping black man had a snitch in the team, for the right amount of money, anyone would talk. So here he was, driving through the plains around Sonoma Peak. Leaving Jerry far from the road or any activity. It could be years before his burned remains would be found.

He had a hand written note, in Jerrys own hand, that he had sold up. He had the keys to the joint. He had used Jerrys phone to add himself to the app group that the dirtbag used as a messaging board to the girls. The deeds to the property were in his office of course. And on the messaging board of the club there was a simple message; that the club now was under new management. The profile picture that of a black man, built like a tank. That he would invite each girl for a set date and time, that builders would come in that week to do a make-over to the dilapidated place.

Allura would be the first to receive a ping on her phone. He had browsed through the sets of women that were in the appgroup. He had been in the back of the club a few times to watch the dancers. This brunette was perhaps the star of the joint, there was probably a blonde or two who could compete, but she was one of the moneymakers. Matt LeFavre gave off a grin. Yeah. The star of the joint. The star on his cock too, if he had any say in it. When Jerry and he had still been friendly, the douchebag had spoken about each of the strippers, trying to show off how much he knew about their personal lives. Allura had been in a sort of a hard place? Needed the cash? Or something. Who gave a fuck. If she wanted to stay, she had to fuck. It was going to be that simple. As he finally turned onto route 80, the Ford engine roared while he sped up. His powerful hand would drop to his jeans and give that bulge a mild squeeze.

Matt had made the Desert Fox club his own little project. He had dropped in one day from the way to Vegas to Salt Lake. Though it was not the smartest move; when you had a flatbed full of cocaine with you, you should not stop until you reached your destination, he had taken an instant liking. The route was busy enough, if they did way with the crazy ass Roman styled front, did the lighting up and gave the innards of the building a total make over, it would be a perfect place. It would fit nicely into his real estate collection he was setting up. A small casino near the strip, not on the strip, a few motels, a few storehouses where they would store the white, make the X and with this, a ready collection of women to pimp out if he so wished.

But first, he wanted a reward for what he had just done. Surge a bullet through Jerrys brain. Though the impotent and incompetent fool never touched the girls, he wasn't a nice man at all. It was money about which he cared. Well. New management cared about pleasure too. Mostly his own, but who was complaining?

Allura. I'm on my way to the Fox. I expect you there in ten minutes. I'm going to do new auditions for all the girls. So you better come prepared. Matt.

They had not met. Well. At least, he had not shaken her hand or spoken to her. He had pushed a couple of a hundred dollar bills into her tight little thong once. From the front. Something customers were not supposed to do. But probably when she saw the amount of the bills he was flashing, she was a lot more cooperative. The back of his fingers had pushed against her clit and outer folds when he shoved the bills deep into the front of the thong. The bastard had made sure to keep the bills on one side of his fingers so there would be skin on skin contact. Was there a little grind from her as a reward? There was certainly an extended drag of that powerful hand back up when he pulled his hand from her panties. Her body and her heavy rack hovering above him as she stood on the stage. His eyes watching her face as he moved his hand, his breath teasing one of her nipples. He could almost latch on, suck, lick and tease. But he had not. Though he knew Jerry would probably not throw him out.

Perhaps she would recognise him on his profile picture. Perhaps not. Perhaps she had a habit of letting men shove their fingers down the front of her thong. Though that was not allowed normally. He had felt her shaven puss when he had mashed the fingers against it. And when he withdrew, he had made his index and middle finger open up slightly, so he could give her clit a quick squeeze on the way out. She had kept her eyes on his, locked gazes, as he had pushed his fingers into his own mouth and sucked them off. Thats when her dance had continued and she had not looked at him again.

So now he was seated in the club. The normal low lighting on. THere was a lot of wood, a carpet that looked like it had seen better days. The upholstery was terrible. He had arranged for a couple of his footmen to drop by tomorrow. They would tear the place apart on the inside and get a completely look and feel to the joint. Modern. Classy. Instead of the revenge of the eighties all over again. He had put on the music, the sound system not much more than a Hifi set with extra boxes. That would be gone tomorrow too. A bottle of whiskey and two glasses on the stage.

The man was dressed simple. Black jeans. A white t-shirt that clung to him like a second skin. And sneakers. Now with just a bit of sand on them. The white leather of the shoes showing no specks of blood, that he had checked thoroughly. He was leaned back on the couch in front of the stage, waiting for the brunette who would make you forget the surroundings where you were in, because the was fucking perfection, compared to the run down club she was dancing in.

 

[DraivinAiNeghavi]

-In the gym-

John quietly looked around the gym class hall. He was grinning. The lighting lowered somewhat to give more focus to the outside view. The thirty fifth floor of a high rise just on the East River. Outside the lights showed the traffic crossing the bridge into Brooklyn. A gym with a spectacular view. Who in his right mind would place a gym that high up a building. One floor below him there was a swimming pool and a large spa. Sauna, massage parlor, salon. And those two floors were all his. This was quite a different setting than the sandpits of Syria.

And yet, that was where this had all started. A captain in the special forces, he had run covert operations in Syria from 2011 onwards. That first year his team was focused on inflicting losses on ISIL through their economy. Attacking oil installations, hit and run attacks on plants, cutting off the power supply to entire areas. One of these assaults was on an oil installation close to the Turkish border. Apparently, Turkish smugglers had just collected a load of oil the day before. They had paid with gold and precious gems. His team had looted the offices on the lookout for documents that the CIA could use. But he had also pocketed three handfuls of precious stones. He wasn't dishonest, had never committed a crime, up until that moment when opportunity struck.

They were based in the south of Italy as a staging base for operations. He knew he had to get rid of the precious stones quickly, before anything could be traced back to him. He had found a local shady dealer that would buy up the stones. Of course he didn't get their true value, but he had to make do with what he could get. Secondly, he didn't want any money transferred to his accounts. Just that year the Bitcoin had been introduced, it was a safe way of transferring the money to the US without anyone the wiser. His tour lasted for another six months… and in that time alone the 250K in dollars had quadrupled in value.

By now, he had twenty million in the bank, was the full owner of this gym and he still had a couple of bitcoins left over. Now they were worth what… 100K in dollars per coin? He had bought them at a 1=1 value. It had made him a windfall, just those five minutes in that office. He had no battle with his conscience about it. Though he had never crossed that line again. After leaving the Marines in 2014 he had lived a wild life for a while, before finally settling and buying this.

He had grown up across that bridge, always looking with jealousy at Lower Manhattan. That place was like the moon. Unreachable. And here he was, owner of two stories in a high rise that was finished three years ago. Owner of a fitness club that drew enthousiasts from all over the city. A swimming pool at the thirty fourth floor. With the same view as this gym class room. He had a large penthouse one floor above his gym. It had made him philosophize that he could live here and never leave the building. He enjoyed going out too much for that though.

It was a Sunday evening, nine pm. The gym was still open, a few of the members in the main area. But the instruction rooms could be closed off. The only glass overlooking the river. This was perfect for his plan. The mirrors, they would help. He had also brought in one of the thick mats that were usually meant for landing after a high jump. It was shoved into a corner as if it wouldn't be part of the next (few) hour(s). The perfect height… for other stuff than a work out.

Marissa. Fuck. He had seen her come in the first time and had watched her on the steps. Round ass. Pumping with each step she took. Petite. Adorned with tramp stamps. An attitude he would love to fuck out of her. Her caramel colored wife was a sight of her own, but somehow he had set his sights on the pretty brunette. Perhaps it was her attitude. Or the certain hunger she seemed to have in her eyes when she looked at him. The glint of a tongue piercing didn't help either. He had never had the luck to be sucked off with that kind of bonus.

They had hit it off on the floor too. Chiding commentary at him, jokes and banter. There had been fleeting touches too. A hand on her lower back. Stretching after her workout helped with hands on her upper legs, her shoulders. And last week she had finally let him give her a massage in the spa. He knew he was close to his goal then. She had come in with just a towel and had shown herself off by ending up naked on her stomach on the table. Her whole body glistening with oil after a good half hour. His fingers had brushed her outer folds more than once when massaging those upper legs, had she stifled a moan or two? But when he got a little more daring and brushed his index finger over her tight rosebud, she had fled like a hare being chased. Perhaps feeling guilty? Or too turned on? He had no idea. But so much for the more gentle approach.

She had not looked at him for the next couple of days. That had actually pissed him off more. He knew he was close. Close to finally having his way with her. Using her up for his pleasure. He imagined with her attitude she could take quite the punishment. And her wife seemed nothing but sweet. When he saw her again on one of the weight lifting machines, he had approached her. Telling her, her stance was wrong, that this could cause her injury, giving her a few quick tips, not as friendly as he usually was. He pushed her a bit, while he would normally use words. Was his hand on her ass to shift her hip actually started with a slap? His attitude was as if nothing had happened. In the end, he was pressed against her from behind. His throbbing hardon pressed against her ass. In the middle of the main area of the gym. For everyone to see. His hands on her ribcage just below those heavy breasts. While she was using her arms to shift weights. Training her biceps. Encouraged by his low vibrato in her ear. "Yeah… just like that… harder… deeper… go for it…" his hands on her body dipping lower to keep that firm, thick ass, pressed against his cock.

After that session of a few minutes, he told her he had far more effective ways of training her. And that she should drop by Sunday at nine. It didn't sound as a question, but as an order. His Marine training kicking in. Sounding with authority.

So now he had set things up for what would quickly derive into something else. He was dressed provocatively. I'm just loose fitting running shorts. And nothing else. On the floor there was the mat to the side. And he had piled up a few steps as a bench. Next to that a couple of weights, as if they would actually train. A yoga mat finished the ensemble. Little did she know he had a bag with a couple of toys, oil, lube and towels hidden behind the mat. Prepared for everything.

The music in the background more relaxing than what she would normally hear. But the beats would increase in speed a little with each track that he had lined up on his Spotify.

 

[DraivinAiNeghavi]

-The boyfriends father-

John was cranky. He should not be here. He was grumbling to himself. They were too fucking early too. The airport was just a forty minute drive away. But they arrived here at the moment her flight was supposed to touch down. That plane would have to taxi to the gate, her luggage would have to be unloaded. Not only that. Her flight was delayed. Damn budget operators. Why the hell did he agree to this shit in the first place. His son was eagerly watching the sliding doors that would open up to let out arrived passengers. As if that girl of his would come out any time soon. They were already waiting for longer than the drive to the airport had taken. Shit.

His son had been adamant. He needed help. He could not pick up his girlfriend from the airport and take her home. He had a project at university that would keep him occupied for the coming week. Tonight he would not even have dinner with his significant other. The girl was all dumped on his father. Nice. She would probably be as boring as his son was. All physics. Not physical. He could imagine glasses, baggy clothes, a dull expression, a silent and demure type. As his son was. Another grumble from the old man as the doors opened again. His son was eager. As if he had scored the winning prize in the lottery. That was how he spoke about her. She was funny and smart. And the kiddo was blushing each time he spoke of her. He wondered what kind of good girl would pop up from between those doors. He sure as hell was not going to enjoy himself.

His son was a late addition to his house actually. The kid had grown up with his mother. A woman who he had been with when he was just twenty and she was eighteen. He was away with the Marines overseas a lot, mostly Afghanistan and Iraq in the early 2000's. That actually killed the relationship before it really got started. So she stayed on the base in his apartment with the kid while he would tour the world. In the end, she left to go live with her parents in Montana or something. John himself had done ten years of the Marines, before he had set himself up in sunny California.

He had made a windfall from… stuff he had found in the Middle East and from being away on deployment for so long. That deployment bonus came as a lump sum at the end of his career. He ended his career as a major in the corps. Which also gave him the benefit of a pension. But that was all unnecessary. The money he had gained from his side business during his tours and the bonus had gone into investments. Stocks, companies, crypto when it just arrived, when the bitcoin was still worth less than a thousand dollars. It had meant he did not have to work anymore. Nowadays he could live from interest, dividends and playing on the exchange. He owned a couple of restaurants and hotels in Los Angeles, not overly large, but combine that will all the other sources of income… he lived a life of leisure.

He was still the same as he was in the Marines. Sculpted, like a greek god. Tall. Broad shoulders, tight abs, strong. He had no complaining about attention from the ladies. There was just no one special at the moment. A few friends with benefits perhaps. Lately he had started an infatuation with a girl online. On one of his surfing days he had stumbled upon her OnlyFans profile. She was quite something. Heavy rack, tight stomach, round ass, strong toned legs, a tight package. A couple of tramp stamps, or more than a couple. He had not seen her full face though, she only brought her lips into view when she'd suck on some toy and plop those plushy tiers on and off.

So yeah. It had been something special. He had chatted with her, tipped her more than once, ended up sending her toys and lingerie from her wish list. It had been a four month fling? or something? It was another reason he was quite cranky this morning. He had a private session last night, which was her way to say goodbye to her special customer. She had ended on his command fucking herself through multiple orgasms, plug in her ass, dildo jamming into that wet snug snatch, a hand with painted nails squeezing her chest. Crying out as she squirted all over for him, just for him. That had been it. She would not return, she said. It was fun while it lasted. But watching her go off like that had him wondering again, how it would feel to ram through that orgasm with his thick, throbbing inches. How she would accept every drop of his cum while he would seed her violently. A grunt erupted from his lips as he reminisced.

He had not shown his face to Aroura. She had gotten two pictures, a dick pic for rating… that was a special offer, but he wasn't the type to send pictures of his own meat. It was done for shits and giggles when they were already chatting. She had responded with the token gasp and the 'oh my god, you're big' on the movie she send him where she rated him. There was also a picture of his torso, bare, by the swimming pool. To show himself off to her. Other than that, she had no pictures of the man.

Now. How did he get here again? Oh wait. His son had asked him a thousand times if he could pick up Emma. Together with is son, who was pacing nervously by now. He was sure though, that the kid was not nervous about meeting Emma again, but about not making class in time. He smirked. They could not be more different. The two of them. John was leaning back against a fence as Deacon, his son, was pacing left and right. "Can't you just use a sign to wait for her?" his son asked him. John studied him for a second. Baggy pants, huge sweater, all black of course, a bit chubby, slightly slouched, a head shorter than his father. John shook his head again. "No. You have to introduce me… I did you this favor already, stop complaining." He was sure he would take the day off when his girlfriend would fly in. They wouldn't do much else than fuck that first 24 hours.

The father was wearing bermuda shorts, showing off muscles calves, white sneakers, a white polo shirt that clung to his torso like a second skin. Nothing on his wrists, nothing on his fingers. His arms folded, leaning back, relaxed, even though he was cranky.

 

[DraivinAiNeghavi]

-What a friend-

Scott DeSoto had just set the table. Plates. Wine glasses. Cutlery. Some Californian wine. But he knew Jason was one for drinking a whiskey or two before dinner. He was sure that habit had not changed. He had prepared a simple dinner. Italian pasta, a sauce to go with it and a fresh salad. Ready to finish when they'd come in. She would recognise it probably. He had given her a few tips to get in shape in the first weeks of their contact. Proteines, carbs, green food. Make a nice combination of it and then work out an hour or two hours afterwards. To burn it all up again and to create muscle tissue. That were their first messages exchanged over instagrams direct message option. But soon enough they had gone to Whatsapp.

He had known of course, had known whose wife she was. He had seen it on Jasons facebook, knew her name from one of their calls. It was easy enough to find her. And at first, he had told himself it was just out of curiosity. What kind of woman Jason was so smitten with. The man had told him she was the hottest woman in the world. He spoke about her with respect, with full reverence. As if she was a goddess come down from heaven. He saw her quality on her insta. Then still filled with just simple shots with friends, nothing special. But he had contacted her, with some innocent question. About a venue where she was; where it was. As if that was the true reason to contact her.

They had clicked through those messages. He of course had an insta which showed off his muscled physique. He worked at a gym nowadays. His body was basically the commercial for his work. He had to advertise it. Had to gain members. So yes, he posted videos of work outs and gave off tips. He had done exactly that with her. Give her tips. As said, first of food, but later of exercises and then… to which plastic surgeon she could go for certain operations. What would work, still look natural but give her that perfect look. Her instagram account seemed to professionalize too. Though she mostly shared images with him through Whatsapp nowadays. Too racy perhaps for her husband. There had not been a dickpic towards her… just pictures of himself in tight boxers showing off very very thick bulges.

Somewhere along the line she had found out he knew Jason. She had been all surprised by that. And he had acted just the same; as if he did not know who she was married to. He did not know if she had actually told Jason they had contact. It was not as if he cared. There was one shot of her in a skimpy bikini on high heels… he had looked at that picture quite often while he would stroke that thick… fat cock. To a glorious, powerful finish.

Then there was a fire… an opportunity. Jason had called him all stressed out. The man had made a job of his training in the army. He was a cook in the army base where Scott had been working out of. Just north of Kabul. Nowadays he was a cook at a local restaurant. He had used that income and the money he had received from being posted abroad to buy his own house. Her operations probably had not come cheap either. Scott had suggested she'd try to get one or two through a sponsorship. So either collecting money for it online, or telling the clinic she'd do the work to use her pictures.

Jason had cried on the phone. That he was out of money. Scott, without thinking, had offered for them to stay at his house, while they would get on their feet. Of course it was not their homestate. Sunny California where Scott was, was so damn different than Montana. But at least it was a place to stay, a roof over their head and they had a little bit of privacy.

Scott had done well for himself. He had been posted abroad for over ten years, nearly continuous service, with two wars being fought in the Middle East. There was ample work for a captain in the Marines. He had bought up his gym when he came home. He had not spend a whole lot of money in all those years he had worked continuously. He owned a large gym near a sprawling shopping centre. On the ground floor there were halls for group courses. Two large areas with machines, one more focused on cardio, the other on gaining muscles. In the back there was a spa. With a swimming pool, several saunas and a relaxation area. And the reception area up front had a bar too. But upstairs, there was a spacious apartment for himself. A living room centered it, kitchen/ diner. A smaller bedroom to one side of the apartment with an en-suite. A master bedroom to the other with a larger bathroom. The living room looked out over a large roof terrace, which had several areas to lounge, to dine, a huge barbeque (of course) and a jacuzzi. Basically… a bachelor pad. What more could he wish for?

So often, he would not even leave the establishment. Today though he waited downstairs as their car pulled up. He watched them get out and his heart stopped. She was just as perfect as she had been on the pictures. He nearly grunted out loud. They arrived on a Sunday, just before dinner. The only night the gym was not open. So yes. He led them in. He had dressed casually for the occasion himself. Jeans, a white v-necked shirt, showing off that physique as if he was built like a tank himself.

He had not seen Jason for four years or more. The last time he had waved him off, was on the airport of Kabul, where the man was boarding a C-17 transport plane. To go back home and resign. Scott had stayed of course, the Marine Corps was his way of life. Jason was regular army. Did not have a fighting commission. He was a cook on one of the main military bases. The guy was shorter than Scott and not as trained. He probably did go to the gym with Sam. He looked… well… sort of average. Ok. Not too bad… but not the broad, muscled man, that was opening the door for them.

He had apped her, just last night. Telling her to send him at least one more shot of her in just a bikini bottom. She had teased, of course. Right hand on her heavy breast, wrist pressing against the other nipple. Holding those tits up and together. While her left shot the picture. He had texted back. "Fuck! Fuck you! Such a good little slut. Goddamnit… knowing you'll just be feet away from me, while he is around too… I might not be able to hold back." he had texted her just a moment later. Telling her to get herself off for him, just one more time, before they would make their final leg to him.

Now… that same man was leaning against the glass doors of the gym as he watched them get out of the car. He would house them in the one wing of the apartment. Where they would have the smaller bedroom.

 

[DraivinAiNeghavi]

-Everything has gone South, a story of blackmail-

He was leaning back in his seat in the bar area of the gym club he owned. It was completely quiet once more. The club had closed by now, around ten in the evening. That moment was chosen on purpose, the location as well. He was watching the entrance of the area. He wondered if they had remained in the locker rooms or if they would just now come into the building. A light smile playing on his lips as he practiced his patience.

He took a sip of his soda as he reminisced. The dirty blonde on the steps machine. He had seen her come in, tight gym shorts and a tight top. Some cleavage on display and a hint of her flat stomach. Her hair in a ponytail. Swaying as she kept up the pace. That perfectly round ass. A hint of her underwear lined through her black shorts. She was eyecandy. He had tried to catch her attention. In a simple but direct way. Just ask her if she needed any help. She had declined him. There was not a hint of interest on her part. It was the only time he had spoken to her, just a couple of words. That was months ago too.

He had taken issue with the way she had flipped him off. Perhaps petty on his part, but who cared. In the membership database he had soon found her contact details. Email, phone number, address, full name. That was the easy part. The rest took planning, since they would also leave their phones at the front desk, he could download something onto her phone. A little bit of money for an application on her phone to be corrupted. He'd use the dark web for that, there were hackers who were a lot quicker and more sophisticated than he was. Soon enough, he was in. He was able to read through her emails, to her family, where she was every bit of the good daughter. Who even hinted to her parents about sermons she had followed in LA. To her close friends where she spoke how madly in love she was. To her special friend. Damn. It took him a moment before he realized that special friend was a she. A pretty brunette.

Soon enough he had pictures. Of them. Kissing. Selfies. One with a hint of nudity. But mostly chaste. But he had her friends email and phone number too. A repeat operation delivered a treasure trove of images on Delilahs phone. She was perhaps the more kinky of the two. The picture that he plastered on his desktop was that of Eden on some beach. Two of the brunettes fingers deep inside her cunt. Thumb on her clit. In the background the beach seemed empty. Her back arched. Her hands on those heavy tits, still clad in her bikini top. Squeezing them together. Her hair spread out, her head leaning back. Mouth open. The rest of her face not in sight. He'd imagine that it would be his thick throbbing cock, ballsdeep inside of her. Pumping his heavy load into her wet snatch. But it was the thumb on that clit which was the attraction on this picture. A slender finger with a glittery pink polish. Showing clearly it was not a man fingering her.

From her emails he already knew the blonde was from a conservative background. Her father would press her to keep to her bible studies. To make sure she went to church every week. And she would start her emails to her parents with a bible verse. He had even seen short movies though. And listened to Delilah telling her to cum. The brunette had filmed a couple of their encounters. Not too wise. But who thought their phones could be tapped into? He had harvested their phones and went through all the data.

By then he knew a plan had already formed in his mind. He had to have them. The both of them. He knew the best way to lure them in, was to make use of Edens silence about her relationship with a woman. Delilah was so infatuated with her friend, that she would probably try to save her. Then again, was there tension between the two because of their lack of honesty towards Edens parents? She had even brought the brunette along for thanksgiving. Telling her parents her friend had nowhere to go. Her father impressed on the blonde through a later email that she should try to convince Delilah to receive the support of Jesus Christ. He had chuckled at that. He was sure Delilah enjoyed calling on the lord. But more in the "oh god... fuck... cumming!" Way than any bible verse. He wondered if she would cry out for god once he had sunk himself ballsdeep into her ass and would start the onslaught that would follow... the wrecking of that tight backdoor.

His plan was crude, but effective. Neither would travel home this Christmas. Too expensive for Eden. He wondered if Delilah had any contact with her family. So the week before Christmas he had started his plan. That would mean he could force them to spend three weeks together without much interference from meetings with family. The campus where they loved would be nearly empty during holiday season. Eden had texted her girlfriend that she was looking forward to two weeks of relaxation. Boy. Was she wrong.

He had the luxury of having his own apartment. Scott McBoyd had gotten lucky with crypto currency. He had bought up about a thousand bitcoins when they had just come out. A drunken night and nothing to do... in his state of mind he had fantasized about the exchange rate skyrocketing. It had been a stupid move, or so he thought the day after. The rate had already dropped, so he figured he would wait until it would be at the same level as before. After a week of checking up on the exchange rate, he forgot all about it. When bitcoins became the hype, he remembered. By then his thousand coins had a combined value of six million. He had sold the lot when it topped ten.

Now he owned the gym both girls frequented. Close to campus, filled with students. It was something half between a luxury spa club and a regular gym. A pool in the basement, a few large saunas and steam rooms there as well. They offered massages as well and even had a jacuzzi in that basement. He ground floor had two large studios where Pilates, bodypump and pole dancing courses were given. And of course the main gym area. He loved above the gym himself in a spacious three bedroom apartment. A few rentals above that provided a steady income. Most of his bitcoin money had gone into this investment. But because he didn't have a large business mortgage (only for the renovation), he got a good monthly return and could live in idleness.

Perhaps that idleness was what had hatched this plan. He wasn't a complete misogynist. He had been in the army, a ranger unit, did a few tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, finished a study in IT afterwards... he had lived a normal life. Perhaps he had come on strong to one or two women in the past. But it would never be against their will. This time though... it was different. He needed to have these two. Reading their intimate texts, he had decided he wanted to be in some form of relationship with the two of them.

He had made his presence known. Eden was the first. She had received a package, with a single picture of her. The one that was on his desktop screen. The picture was printed on a canvas, rather large. Perhaps that gave her the inclination that it wasn't a gift from her gf. He let that fester a couple of days. They had tried to change passwords to all their accounts. But since he could follow what they did on their laptops, that had no effect. The second item was a simple envelope. It was also addressed to the blonde. In it a smaller envelope with the address of her parents. In that envelope a set of two pictures. A video still where she was orgasming. And a selfie of the two where they were kissing. No message to go with it. But he had shown that he knew where her parents lived.

They had conversed on their phones in the days after. The anxiety of the blonde clear. He had contacted them a third time yesterday. Another package delivery. This time with a USB. On it, all the data he had harvested. But this one had a message. To come to the gym at a certain time. The package contained something else. Two glass buttplugs, not overly large but not small either. A small bottle of lube. And two vibrating eggs. The remotes were nowhere to be seen. With it the simple message. "Wear these." Followed by "Eden, dress in what you wore to the party last week." They had a dorm party. He had seen their exchanges about it over WhatsApp. And had gotten a picture of the two of them. Eden had looked so damn hot in that outfit. He had given no orders to Delilah. Not direct ones, though the toys came in pairs. The last items were two choker necklaces, resembling a dog collar. "No police, if you don't want your parents to receive the data and your picture framed in the Episcopal church.". He even knew the denomination of her parents. He probably meant the church where they went to sermon.

 

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