I Know What You Did Last Night ― Chai & Keith Logan | nsfw

[Chai]

		I KNOW what you did LAST night ▬▬▬ a roleplay by Chai & Keith Logan
		W A R N I N G : contains nsfw images !

 

[Chai]

	emily larson __ ▬▬▬ _ age: 22 _ _ | _ _ height: 5'4" _ _ | _ _ birthday: may 21 _
	● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● Light blonde hair spilled behind a head that was tilted back, face just out of view, showing off the clean lines of an elegant, elongated neck that led down to the prominent curve of clavicles and rounded breasts. Lingerie covered barely visible nipples, the pink flesh showing through the baby blue lace. Below that, a taught stomach preceded toned legs that stretched out over a white faux fur throw blanket. And between those supple thighs was a small triangle of matching baby blue lace, the ruffles on the waistband of the panties flirting with the smooth skin of her hips. Emily leaned into her laptop screen, zooming in and inspecting the photo of herself in an almost clinical manner. She was leaned back on her elbows, back slightly arched, and even with her head tilted back she could see glossy pink lips that were only just ajar. Something about the lips made the photo complete, as if she were thinking something obscene and enjoying herself. She clicked to the next photo. This one was similar except the bra was removed, her bare breasts on display, and one of her hands rested on her left nipple. Elegant fingers grazed the delicate peak, barely squeezing. Her other hand rested on her right leg, which was now folded up and drawn to the side to offer a more intimate view of the skimpy panties between the creamy skin of her inner thighs. Her pussy peeked out from behind the thin material, the lips swollen with arousal. And if one was looking closely, they'd be able to spot the dampness that was beginning to grow on the gusset of the blue lace. They were perfect, she decided, and switched tabs to the open Only Fans page. 'You guys voted on the color you wanted to see next, and baby blue won!' She typed into a new post, attaching the matching pictures. 'Let know what you all think, xo.' She clicked upload and waited a few moments, which was all it took for the first comments to appear. Holy shit you look great as always 😍️‍🔥 Beautiful as ever Mia Satisfied, she smiled to herself and closed her laptop, then walked to her bedroom and collapsed on the bed, stretching out over the duvet. A minute hadn't gone by before her phone buzzed beside her, and she picked it up to see a text from Ryan, her fiance: Hey babe, thinking of you. Corpus Christi is great - I've decided I want to take you with me next time. Doing anything fun tonight? Emily froze, her heart sinking as she stared at the little speech bubble on the screen. What was she supposed to say? "Mhm, I'm having lots of fun uploading nude pictures of myself to Only Fans. How's your night?" She didn't mean for things to get to this point. Not initially, at least. What started as anonymous Reddit posting during her college years had earned her a small fan base, and eventually she monetized her content on Only Fans in hopes that it would provide some extra cash without having to pickup more hours at her part time job. And provide it had. It was amazing what $9.99 per month would earn her, or "Princess Mia" as she was known on the app, with a couple hundred subscribers plus the additional tips. The exclusive content was really the star of the show―it was so lucrative that she used the additional income stream to justify keeping the account even after graduating. It was the little white lie she told herself: that she was doing it for the extra money tucked away in her savings account, and not because of the validation and exhilaration she got from showing off to strangers online. Her only regret was that it was her double life hidden from Ryan, and she felt yet another familiar pang of guilt as she stared down at his text message. Sweet Ryan, whom she had met her junior year of undergrad. She was acutely aware of how lucky she was to have him. With his chestnut hair, warm brown eyes and easy smile, it didn't take much to see that he was lots of women's type. The family money he was set to inherit certainly wasn't a bad quality either, though it meant, like now, he was frequently on business trips working for his father's oil company. He had proposed some months back, a grand affair with all their closest friends and family. It was the finale in a whirlwind day of anniversary celebrations; the happiest moment of her 22 year-old life. The night ended in tears of joy and a dazzling 2-carat diamond that was the envy of all her friends. The same ring now lay in a porcelain dish on her night table, the facets of the round jewel making it sparkle in the bright lights of the room. Emily's heart ached once more, and she reached over to slip the ring back on before quickly typing a message back, her fingers tapping quietly across the screen. not much, just watching movies and stuff i love you bunches baby! miss you, call me when you can She hit send and sighed, tossing her phone back onto the bed. All the more reason to be even more careful with her hobby. She already took meticulous care to make herself anonymous, hiding her face as much as possible and wearing heavier makeup than she would otherwise. Even after taking the photos, she would spend time on her computer editing out anything that could potentially give away her identity. If Ryan had come across any of her photos, she was positive even he wouldn't be able to recognize her... not that she wanted to test that theory anyhow. Right before the wedding, she told herself sternly as she lay there contemplating the future. She would use her earnings for their wedding fund, then end everything before the wedding. Princess Mia would cease to exist, disappear off Only Fans, and no one would ever find out about her terrible, awful secret. If only if things were ever that simple. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

 

[Keith Logan]

	Ivan Marwood __ ▬▬▬ _ age: 27 _ _ | _ _ height: 5'8" _ _ | _ _ birthday: apr 10 _
	● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● There is a price to pay in every endeavour. Sometimes, the yield or high is worth the pain. Others? It could be time wasted, or worse, be condemned to a life of regret. The pornographic industry is one such that is toxic and ruthless. Oftentimes, young women never quite understood the repercussions of selling their bodies. It’s the lure of money that often blinded many to the ensuing jaws of horror that were lurking behind the shadows of their uncertain, foggy path ahead of them. Riches were gained at the expense of throwing their future away - future that pertained raising a family, or even just missing out on that perfect soulmate. For some, there were stories of ex-stars suffering from the psychological damages that resulted from the years of being chipped and worn down by the different ramifications that all eventually lead to a big gaping hole into one’s soul, self worth and sanity. OnlyFans revolutionised the pornographic industry. It brought powers to the hands of the aspiring ordinary girls, that no longer have to accede to the whims and fancies of the male dominated production companies. But that didn’t make the stars of OnlyFans any less vulnerable to the ugly repercussions. Emily Larson. Princess Mia. Call it a celebrity crush. She was the kind of girl Ivan Marwood had fantasised attaining ever since he hit puberty. She had the most perfectly proportionate lissome body that could make his manhood come to a state of reveille, even if she was fully clothed. That was how alluring and hopelessly attracted Ivan was to Princess Mia. Her gait was splendidly graceful and demure, the sort that chauvinistic men would typically associate with unrealistic expectations of a feminine, loving stay home wife who had graduated from Harvard just to tend to the kids, cook, dance, and please her man in various ways when he returns home at night after a long day’s work. She had the sweetest, most angelic sounding voice he has ever heard in his opinion, when she posted rare video footages of herself. Although she had masked her voice by whispering all of the time. But those asmr-esque airy hushes never failed to elicit goosebumps all over his body when he had his headphones on, every.single.time. He couldn’t count how many times he had gotten off to a particular clip that he had played on repeat, in which she role played as a girlfriend for her avid supporters that had subscribed to her VIP content. The IT prodigy was so obsessed with Mia, he could literally recall from memory where some of her distinctive bodily features, including a few tiny moles on her body, were located. Which was why, he found it extremely peculiar, when he was first introduced to a new colleague at his workplace some three months back. It wasn't just her captivating beauty, but that her demeanour reminded him a lot of Mia. Had he not replayed and consumed Mia's digital contents for thousands of time, he would have too, been fooled by her very meticulous efforts and extend that she went to conceal her identity. Unfortunately, she hadn't been punctilious enough. But it was understandable - how many girls would be bothered to apply layer of foundations over an insignificant trinity of moles by her forearm? It was unlikely Emily Larson was the Princess Mia that he had been supporting for over two years. Princess Mia wasn't engaged. Emily was, judging by her ring around her finger. And objectively speaking, what were the odds of one's anonymous online crush turning out to be one's colleague? It was statistically rarer than winning the lottery. For three months, he mulled in silence and endured the increasingly unbearable itch that was hounding him. That is her. No that can't be her. That IS her. No it cannot be! ​ Little did Emily know, that the ramifications of selling out her body to online simps were going to be the least of her concerns. For far too long, Ivan the terrible had lived his life in suppression and isolation, by nature of his introversion. When the chance of being able to get hold of a goddess like Princess Mia was presented to him on a platter, there was no way in hell he would let it get away from him, not especially when it was going to be a life defining moment that could determine his own happiness for the years to come, at the unfortunate expense of the very girl implicated. That chance, came in the form of Emily approaching him one dreary afternoon, seeking for his assistance to fix a persistent blue screen of death that kept occurring on her personal laptop most recently. He obliged, as was expected of his job. He managed to salvage her device, but not before he found a spontaneous urge to install a couple of malwares on it. Of prominent mention, included a keylogger, and remote access to her device's webcam. It was a fucking gold mine. Emily Larson is Princess Mia. His fingers were trembling at the moment of revelation that Friday night after he returned Emily her laptop, when he first decoded the key strokes that was sent live and discreetly to his personal computer when she was connected to the internet. He could literally hear his heart pounding in his ears. Her keystrokes had her pulling up OnlyFans on her browser, along with her login information. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Over time, more and more personal information and logins were uncovered, including but not limited to her email, whatsapp web, and her various social media accounts. The chronicles of almost her entire life, was now accessible at the tip of his fingers. Under the cheesy moniker of Sir Cumalot, Ivan was quick to login to OnlyFans to drop Princess Mia a couple of Direct Messages, knowing that she was online through the live feed of the keylogger activity tracker. It wasn't the first time he had messaged her. In fact, the pair had exchanged messages on various occasions, including instances of sexting. After all, Sir Cumalot had set aside a sizable proportion of his monthly income up to as much as fifty percent on a few occasions, to feed the coffers of Mia. Naturally as one of her biggest fans, he had been afforded a respectable amount of her time. Sir Cumalot: Hey Mia Sir Cumalot: As always, I had a hard time with your latest content. Sir Cumalot: I just thought you'd appreciate me telling you how much your work has an effect on me. Sir Cumalot: But guess what? Sir Cumalot: I've just discovered tonight that something had gotten me even harder. It was at the same time, when her fiancé's given sobriquet - Ry - flashed across the screen of her phone, signalling an incoming facetime call. A few seconds later, another message came along, with an attachment. Sir Cumalot: A picture speaks a thousand words, they say. Emily’s uncanny resemblance to Mia had Ivan spontaneously decided he was going to start taking discreet pictures of his obsession since over a month back. He initially began with a mere intention of feeding and exercising his desires on Mia’s doppelgänger. He just never thought in his wildest dreams, the doppelgänger was going to be the real deal, and how his collection of her images had suddenly become extremely handy and valuable. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

 

[Chai]

	emily larson __ ▬▬▬ _ age: 22 _ _ | _ _ height: 5'4" _ _ | _ _ birthday: may 21 _
	● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● She had barely closed her eyes for a brief minute before Emily's phone buzzed again and again, a normal occurrence after she posted something new. No doubt it would be one―or multiple―of the men who greedily consumed the nude photos of herself. Always so appreciative. And always so hungry for more, many of them riding the thin line between flirtatiousness and desperation. "You're one of the best models on here," one fan had DM'd her. "Do you full nude shots? I'd love to see them..." said another. Emily understood the parasocial nature of the relationship well enough to not leave them unanswered. That was, after all, why Only Fans thrived and worked so well. Lonely men wanted to interact with their dream girl, even if it was all an illusion fueled by money and tips. Even if the experience lasted mere moments, only to do it all over again and get their fix again, and again, and again. Funnily enough, the sexting, photos, and rare video were often the simpler part of being someone else. It was easier to compartmentalize them, her responses stemming from some part of her brain that went on autopilot. All of these men were content to receive the same generic attention, yet for some reason she couldn't understand, they kept coming back for more. A flirty response here, a photo of her outfit there... it was hardly difficult to keep them hooked onto her, like she was dangling a carrot they would never be able to obtain. Of course not all followers had this privilege; those who could afford more of her time had their fantasies fulfilled. Sexting, additional photos, and photo shoot requests―she did all but reveal her face. Those who couldn't afford the extra perks got a simple thank you message, like the one she was typing out to the most recent DMs. Then came another message, this time from a name she did recognize: Sir Cumalot. By now she was desensitized to the cheesy usernames, and his would have been just another name floating in a sea of strangers had it not been for the sheer amount of money he spent on her. But no, she knew this name very well. He'd been one of her earliest followers and supporters, showering her with frequent gifts and additional tips in exchange for personalized content. In fact, if Emily had to guess, Sir Cumalot must have been within her top 5 fans. She read his first couple messages before interrupted by her fiance's FaceTime call. Her heart fluttered and she answered immediately, her face breaking into a wide smile. "Hi Ry," she said sweetly into the phone camera, “you called!” “Well I wanted to say goodnight to my baby. Hey, by the way I…” Ryan’s voice faded out of Emily’s attention as another DM from Only Fans came through, making her phone vibrate. Then another. And another, the previews of each message showing up in the notification bar. She was about to set her phone to ‘Do Not Disturb’ when the last message from Sir Cumalot made her stomach turn. It was a photo of her. Not as Princess Mia, but of herself, as Emily Larson. There she was, in the dress she’d worn to her friend’s art exhibit, with her face pointedly uncovered and clearly visible. Her breath caught in her throat. “Em? Em—are you listening?” Ryan’s voice broke through her thoughts, a slight frown turning down his lips as he watched her. “Is everything ok?” Emily had to clear her throat. “Yeah—uhm, yeah everything is fine—sorry—I got a text from my mom about something. If I could just answer it really fast, baby.” She didn’t bother waiting for his reply, instead opening the Only Fans app and staring in horror at the photo Sir Cumalot had sent. She felt a little feint. Shaky fingers fumbled over her phone screen, making typos as she typed back, with only the autocorrect to make her messages legible. Princess Mia: What? lol Emily paused for a moment and then typed again. Princess Mia: Who is that? ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

 

[Keith Logan]

	Ivan Marwood __ ▬▬▬ _ age: 27 _ _ | _ _ height: 5'8" _ _ | _ _ birthday: apr 10 _
	● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● "Hi Ry," “you called!”​ “Why would I not call babe? I could be in an important meeting and still find a way to do so if you’d just ask. My job can wait. You can’t. Priorities.” If Ivan thought Emily’s voice was already arousing enough in her videos, her voice was saccharine perfect when she greeted her boyfriend after her call connected. She sounded truly in love, with the way the pitch of her tone went up a couple of notes, soft, seductive, sensual. Ivan could hear her conversation with her muse clearly through the mic of her laptop, discreetly turned on along with her cam. In that moment, he felt incredibly bothered, a sudden pang of jealousy. He wished he was the one that she was talking to. Even though Ryan wasn’t visible from the phone call, it was easy to make out from the manner of his tone that he was probably grinning on the other side of the line when he replied Emily. The man was a sweet talker. But that didn’t mean he was like any typical Casanova, whose words are often hollow. Ryan always meant the things that he said. He had proven that so on multiple occasions in the past that he was not just an incredible friend and colleague, but an even more magnificent lover. If he ever needed to bite the bullet on Emily’s behalf, it was most certain that he would do it without a moment’s hesitation. "Well I wanted to say goodnight to my baby. Hey, by the way I…"​ “Naw. We could face time a little, if you want.” Ryan decided to chip in a partial reply first after Emily cut off her sentence abruptly, then gave her a couple more moments to get back to him with whatever she wanted to say earlier. But seconds passed, and she still seemed caught up with… whatever she was caught up with. "Em? Em—are you listening?" "Is everything ok?" "Yeah—uhm, yeah everything is fine—sorry—I got a text from my mom about something. If I could just answer it really fast, baby."​ “Ah okay, yeah sure.” Ryan’s voice was slightly upbeat despite the unexpected delay. This was in spite of the fact that he was all too eager to see Emily’s face again after having gone a week without doing so due to the hectic schedule of his work. This was typical Ryan, ever so patient and understanding. Ryan was a man of steel. Having the weight of his dad's business on his shoulders was no easy feat, especially since it was his dad's wish that he eventually takes over the helm from him in the coming years ahead. Consequently, his work had been piling up as time progressed, as he started taking over more and more responsibilities. Yet, even though it was clear that his career was taking a toll on him, he always made it an effort to make time for Emily. Others before self. Many of those who had been close enough to him would resoundingly agree to that opinion of him. Ryan was the perfect man - Intelligent, sweet, handsome, hard working and possessed a fit, yet proportionate body to die for. He was everything good. Curiously, everything good might not exactly be everyone’s cup of tea in certain circumstances - such was the paradox of the human mind. Ivan could not help, but let out a silent scoff when Emily tried to feign innocence. It did however, have him thinking for a few seconds, just how much of his game he wanted to reveal for the time being. He was walking on thin ice, and he knew he needed to thread lightly. Sir Cumalot: That’s the same lady who is talking to her lover boy at this very moment. Ivan decided it was a vague enough reveal to get her to understand the true gravity of the situation, and that Sir Cumalot was not that naive to be buying into her act. The stranger had somehow, managed to trace her identity down. Did she honestly think she could get away by playing such a weak card against someone who had the brilliant mind to unravel the dirty secret of Emily behind the face of Mia, in spite of the extra layers of precaution that she had painstakingly exercised over the past years? Sir Cumalot: Sounds like your boyfriend misses you. Sir Cumalot: Why don’t you put on a show for him like you’re such a natural at doing? Sir Cumalot: My only two requests, are that I would like to have a front row seat to the viewing, as well as a hand in the direction of the show. Sir Cumalot: When we’re done, I can stay around for a bit longer. I am sure you’d be keen to discuss more about your... plethora of secrets beneath the tip of the iceberg, Emily Larson. Plethora was a bit of an overstretch, especially since he only just managed to piece together that Emily was Mia. He had a collection of Emily’s pictures, but none too incriminating. He knew he needed to build up evidential materials that he could eventually use them against her down the road. But Ivan figured he had laid down enough grounds to be able to cause Emily to be substantially worried, to keep her guessing about just what exactly he had in his arsenal. The introvert who had spent most of his entire life in an internal monologue, was especially familiar with the manner of which how the ruminating and wandering mind can do its worst to wreck a person’s nerves and sanity over time. Sir Cumalot: Add me on skype, and turn on your webcam, will you? Sir Cumalot: I reckon a Harvard girl would be smart enough to piece together what my username might be. Sir Cumalot: Put on one of your wireless earbuds, the one that I’ve seen you used in one of your videos before. We shall talk over voice chat shortly. Sir Cumalot: Once you’re done setting up, I believe we shouldn’t keep your boyfriend waiting for too long. Sir Cumalot: I missed you showing me the inner slut that all your fans and I, know you to be, Princess. There was a little pause, before the messages continued. Sir Cumalot: I want your boyfriend to watch... but only just for a little glimpse. I can get a little.. possessive. Sir Cumalot: Don't worry, Em. I will go easy on you. I just wish to talk, whilst having a little bit of harmless fun in the process. It sure felt empowering for Ivan to be hiding behind anonymity, doing, saying the things that he otherwise, typically wouldn't have found the courage to do so in person. His brazenness, summed up by how cordially he had decided to address her actual name on the shorter, more intimate form, just like how her boyfriend had done so only a minute earlier. Sir Cumalot: I much rather we do this.. rationally. Don't take too long to decide. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

 

[Chai]

	emily larson __ ▬▬▬ _ age: 22 _ _ | _ _ height: 5'4" _ _ | _ _ birthday: may 21 _
	● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● Someone knew. The thought filled Emily's mind, singular and consuming, as she felt her heart beat within her chest. No, not beat, but flutter in a panicked erratic rhythm. She lay frozen in her bed, watching as Sir Cumalot sent message after message. She'd heard stories before of other women on Only Fans being threatened or harassed, but she thought she'd done enough to protect herself. Her thoughts raced, trying to think back through all the photos and videos she'd ever released, assessing whether she had missed some small detail. But deep down, she knew had never missed anything. Even the small birth mark at the nape of her neck had been meticulously covered with concealer despite her hair always covering the spot. Always. Her fingers raced across her phone screen, typing and retyping as she went and forth over what to say. The first reaction was to threaten him back, to tell him she was reporting him for harassment and blackmail. He knew as well as she did that it was against the Only Fans terms of service. Yet she hesitated, her thumb hovering over the send button. Even if his account was suspended, he still knew about her. And clearly he had access to not just her identity, but this very room. She wondered how was watching her right this very moment―did he install secret cameras in her apartment? The thought, deeply unsettling as it was, made her sick. And then she wondered if he would have no qualms about exposing her online proclivities, and she knew the answer to that question was 'yes'. There was no doubt he would at least release the information somewhere, and then what would become of her life? She would lose the respect of her family, perhaps quite a few friends, and Ryan... What she was doing wasn't exactly physical infidelity―she had never slept with anyone besides her fiance―but no one would have agreed it was much better. In some way it was almost worse, letting hundreds of men objectify, fantasize over, and jerk off to her photos of her body, all while she pretended to give them the girlfriend experience. On a few occasions she had even sent private videos, whispering and quietly moaning with a vibrator over her panties. One of those recipients had been Sir Cumalot, she realized ruefully. No, she couldn't risk those being leaked, least of all to her fiance. So for now she would play along. It wasn't like she had a choice either way. Emily typed nothing back to Sir Cumalot, instead sitting up in her bed. "Hold on Ry, my mom is asking for the name of the name of the salon I had my hair done at last month. I think I have it bookmarked on my laptop." Her voice sounded shaky and unsure. She cleared her throat a bit. "I need a another second, sorry." She saw her fiance give her another sweet smile to the camera. "Of course baby," Ryan said, "take your time. I'm just watching the game." Following Sir Cumalot's instructions, Emily booted up Skype and added his username, then took out her Air Pods and put the right ear bud in. She swallowed dryly and pressed the call button. It rang a few times before the call was answered, his microphone muted and video turned off. Of course, she thought to herself. But she didn't know what else she could have expected. He would have been stupid to reveal who he was, and clearly that was not the kind of person he was judging by what he managed to accomplish. Her own face stared back at her via the webcam, the video taking up the whole screen. She hated that she was still in the blue lingerie from the photo shoot. She hated what she had gotten herself into. "I'm back!" she said to Ryan as she plopped back down onto the bed, lifting her phone up to see him again. "What game is on? Who's winning?" And then while listening to him talk about college football, Emily switched back to the Only Fans app. Princess Mia: I did it. Princess Mia: What do you want now, asshole? ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

 

[Keith Logan]

	Ivan Marwood __ ▬▬▬ _ age: 27 _ _ | _ _ height: 5'8" _ _ | _ _ birthday: apr 10 _
	● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● Seeing Emily fumbling with her words over and over again over the messenger brought a smile to his face. At least he knew he had gotten her undivided attention, more so than her fiancé, that was on the other line. It was cheap thrill, and possibly even lame. But for the socially inept Ivan, he felt great joy in that little victory, that he was able to hold a candle deserving of her attention, that he, an average no one who was still living at the basement of his parents', had momentarily had his hands grasping on a top ivy league girl. The girl, who was not just all brains, but possessed a body, so fit, which blossomed even before the days she once served as the captain of her college's nationally competitive and very rigorous volleyball team; who was raking in money many times more than he was capable of making; who was engaged to a man that well might be able to allow Emily to retire from work five, if not, ten years down the road. Ivan was way out of the competition. And need he revisit the fact that she had the face of an ethereal goddess, unworthy of a lowly human's touch? Yet, here he was, puppeteering the woman free rein, so undeservedly. All that, because Emily had convinced herself she needed to keep up her double life to pay up her college debt, and her upcoming wedding. But the truth, was that money was never really an issue after the first few months of her OnlyFans career. She had already repaid her college debt from the windfall she had made over the past year. Ryan had constantly assured Emily that he was able to get the wedding expenses sorted single handedly. He was still starting out fresh, learning the ropes of his dad's company. While his income at present was modest, no thanks to his dad's belief about not handing his kids his fortunes on a silver platter, and to make them work for it, there was little doubt that his financial earning capabilities would exponential grow in the years to come. Emily knew better than anyone, why she hasn't already abandoned OnlyFans. What goes, after her wedding? Would she truly be able to put that clandestine hobby of hers aside once she ran out of excuses? Ivan watched and waited patiently for Emily to execute his orders. Admittedly, he was surprised at how compliant the young woman had been so far. In the real world, there was absolutely no way he would have the courage to so coolly lay out his brazen demands, face to face, even when he had her incriminating evidences against her. The introvert was naturally anxious in any social setup. But with the mask of anonymity in the virtual domain, he felt... powerful, liberated. If not for his innate emotional inadequacies, he would have the confidence to rule to the world, figuratively speaking. Ivan always had great ideas. But he was a poor communicator. And thus, everyone knew him to be... nobody. Unbeknownst to him, little by little, each guerilla assault that he would launch on her behind the shroud of his mysterious online identity, could well serve as baby steps for him to slowly ease him out of his stubborn, reclusive shell. "Are you sure you're alright? You sound and look, I don't know, pale?" Ryan very casually commented, as he took just a few second of attention off from his football, and on to her when she finally returned. "Wait... are you in your lingerie?" Suddenly, his attention was all perked up. His eyes now, definitely on her and not a second more on the screen of his TV. There was an emerging grin on his face that was mixed in amusement, and subtle delight. Sir Cumalot: Hey now, manners. Sir Cumalot: Is this how you talk to someone who had been your long time fan, who had been one of your earliest first ten supporters? Sir Cumalot: I raised you, Emily. You were out of your college debt, because of me. He was quick to take all the credit, even though the both of them knew he was just a fraction of her pool of contributors. In all fairness, a sizable portion of her wealth had been down to Ivan's generous financial sacrifices. But nuances didn't matter at that moment in time. Sir Cumalot: What happened to you always profusely thanking me for being your #1 supporter? Sir Cumalot: Has it all now been forgotten? Sir Cumalot: The nights when I helped you cum and talked you to sleep when you were in need of someone to talk to during your worst days? Honestly, Ivan wouldn't know the truth for certain. But he genuinely believed Emily in the times she sent him voice notes, and the occasional impromptu video clips. Getting her onto skype was now, a different ball game. It was now a continuous live stream, something he never thought, would ever become a reality one day. Sir Cumalot: Take out your gravity. Sir Cumalot: Cumalot97. Add me on your Lovense app. Sir Cumalot: Sync together with my toy. Sir Cumalot: Slip it inside you when you're ready. There was a momentary pause. Sir Cumalot: I wish to fuck you in front of your fiancé. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

 

[Chai]

	emily larson __ ▬▬▬ _ age: 22 _ _ | _ _ height: 5'4" _ _ | _ _ birthday: may 21 _
	● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● Ryan's face, eager and awaiting, made Emily's heart sink as her eyes slid between him and the message exchange with Sir Cumalot on her phone. "I got a new set just for you, baby. A surprise," she told him, sitting up on her knees and holding her phone at arm's length to show off the lingerie. The lie she'd told him made the knot in her stomach grow tighter. She felt a little nauseous. Yet her fiance's eyes lit up as he took her in, his gaze traveling hungrily from the curve of of her breasts, down her taut stomach, and settling onto the triangle of lacy cloth between her legs. He had clearly missed her, and missed being with her. "You look so sexy, Em," he said, his voice appreciative as ever. "You gonna put on a show for me?" Emily giggled in spite of herself, the comfort of her fiance offering momentary reprieve from her predicament. "Of course I will," she replied coyly. And then the reality came crashing down again. It wasn't just Ryan who would see her but whoever this sick bastard was, who was intent on playing games with her. "Just, um, give me a moment while I get some things ready. I promise. Right back." She paused the video and then switched apps back to Only Fans. Princess Mia: Are you out of your mind?? Princess Mia: First of all, I don't owe you anything. Princess Mia: You want your money back? Is that it?? Just say so Princess Mia: There's something fucking wrong with you Yet even after Emily finished typing the insult she complied with his request, the threat of the alternative still too much for her to call Sir Cumalot's bluff. She reached into her bedside table drawer and took out the dildo and added him on the Lovense app. It was becoming clear to her that his appreciation had now moved firmly into obsession, evident by his knowledge of which sex toys he knew she owned. He even wanted to "fuck her" in front of Ryan. She wondered bitterly whether he had already owned his toy, or if he had bought one because he had seen her use the Gravity in a some video. And then she decided it didn't matter―he was still a sick pervert either way. Princess Mia: Fuck you With the setup complete, she resumed the video with Ryan. "Sorry that took so long, baby, but look what I have!" Emily's voice trembled as she held up the Gravity in view of the camera. "It's been a while, so I figured you might want to see something... special." The unintentional double entendre of her words didn't dawn on her until a few moments later, and she had to turn away from her phone to hide the look of disgust on her face. No doubt Sir Cumalot would have enjoyed the implication. But her discomfort went unnoticed by Ryan, who only nodded enthusiastically. "Let me see," he said, the words dripping with husky desire. Emily propped her phone up against a pillow at the foot of her bed and then leaned back on her elbows, spreading her legs. A pink flush, hot and sudden, crept over her cheeks as she realized she was already wet, the air cool against the gusset of her panties. Shivers went down her spine when she brought a hand down to play with herself, her delicate fingers rubbing and teasing over the lace. She saw Ryan's face, sweet and innocent as he watched her. Just beyond him was her own laptop screen, a lewd reflection of herself on the webcam. Guilt washed over her, strong and almost sobering, along with the deepening intensity of the heat between her legs. The truth was right in front of her―that some primal part of her wanted to show off and be watched―but she shoved the feelings within herself to be dealt with later. After a few moments, she pulled the flimsy blue fabric to the side, revealing her bare peachy pussy. Her tight lipped slit glistened with arousal, the petals swollen and flushed. Turning the Gravity on its lowest vibration, she grazed it gently against her clit, sucking in a sharp breath. Her abdomen tightened deliciously in response. "Ryan," Emily moaned, perhaps with a bit too much emphasis, and she slid the toy into her wet, welcoming folds. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

 

[Keith Logan]

	Ivan Marwood __ ▬▬▬ _ age: 27 _ _ | _ _ height: 5'8" _ _ | _ _ birthday: apr 10 _
	● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● Ivan watched as the irony of the situation unfolded right in-front of his eyes. He couldn’t help but let out a scoff after hearing Emily lied to her fiancé without flinching even the slightest. The girl is a natural liar. And the poor boy is blinded by her charm, he thought. He too, wondered how often an occurrence that might have been prior to that instance, and if she was about to tangle herself in a web of lies. Sir Cumalot: ‘A surprise?’ Sir Cumalot: It’s a shame your lover boy doesn’t know he is like the ten thousandth boy to have the honour of indulging in your surprise. Sir Cumalot: The body that you’ve already let thousands cum upon their screens on your pixelated form, for the past couple of hours. The familiar stranger didn’t hold back, painting the picture of how it might also have been the case for himself, as he geared towards the usual dirty talk that Emily had often obliged and engaged him in the past. The key difference, being that it was now done under a very different circumstance. Frankly, Ivan was surprised by the boldness that he was exuding. The crude words; the brazen requests and insults. There was no way he could have spoken to her, or anyone else for that matter like that in real life. Sir Cumalot: Careful now, princess. Sir Cumalot: Your mannerism has gotten unbecoming. Sir Cumalot: Been sat on your ivory castle for far too long, haven’t you? Sir Cumalot: But fret not. Your knight escort is acquainted to the rigours of strict regime and discipline. And I’m happy to share that knowledge to you. The mystery man pulled in references specific to the times they role played over the OnlyFans messenger - somehow, she ended up playing the role of an actual princess, and he was her assigned royal guard, whom she had an illicit affair with, that could well land Sir Cumalot’s head the chopping board. Their liaison was kept a secret from her family and the public eye. At that moment in time, the resemblances between the little role play that they had going to the reality that was unfolding in front of their eyes, was uncanny. About a minute later, she suddenly received a wave of notifications, of a number of her fans commenting on a post that… she did not upload herself? It had only just been freshly uploaded - an image of her very poise just moments before, sultrily on her bed, showing off her lingerie to her phone she was holding at hand, when she steered the camera angle to give Ryan a glimpse of her apparent treat. The caption of the image went: Time for my fiancé to receive the scraps . But don’t worry my darling Mialings - You guys always come first. My fiancé? Second. Our little secret. xx. Holy shit. You are engaged?! Tragic news That’s right Mia. You got your priorities spot on . At least the views were raking in. Ivan fired his warning shot. He needed to show that he was unafraid to act on his unspoken threat, especially since she tried to get smart with him. More insidiously, Emily had just been inducted to the fact that the tendrils of this mysterious man were rooted in way deeper into her than she had initially thought - just what level of control and access to her personal life did he exactly have? That thought alone should keep her mulling for days, weeks, months, as she was being ushered into the new reality of her life that was too late for her to escape from, now that she was caught in the gravitational pull of this proverbial black hole of a menace. She should have stopped her OnlyFans endeavour when she had multiple opportunities to. And now, the stake of her future happiness was hanging in the balance. Will she emerge a survivor? Or will she find herself begrudgingly accepting this unanticipated new phase of her life? The thorn of her predicament would always going to be pricking into her for as long as she could not bring herself to accept and embrace her new reality. Ivan certainly caught the reference when she said she was looking to present him something special. His ensuing responses, as eager as Ryan’s gleeful puppy eyes. Sir Cumalot: Special, indeed. Sir Cumalot: It’s going to be a few firsts, not just for me, but for you too, Princess. Sir Cumalot: I had been looking forward to experimenting this with you since I unboxed the toy last week. Sir Cumalot: Playing solo didn’t feel as enjoyable. This is where I need your help. Both men could spot a visible moistened patch on her panties. But only Ryan’s reaction was visible to Emily. His mouth subconsciously hung open, as he was clearly entranced by the show his fiancée was putting up for him. He needed a minute, before he could break away from his state of trance. “Wow, Em. You usually need at least, a good half an hour for me to get you in the mood.” “You’re feeling a different tune tonight, aren’t you?” Ryan watched on with the softest of grin, part in awe, part envious. He wished he was physically present in that rare moment. Foreplay had always been an important ritual that Ryan afforded Emily each time they got intimate. He knew just how important it was for her, and had been very patient with her, even through the times he found himself incredibly hot and bothered. Foreplay was often more torturous for the fiancé, as he had to restrain and blue ball himself just to get Emily ripen and ready for the taking. He did randomly mused from time to time, why it might be so difficult for Emily to reach a state of arousal. There were times he wondered if he was doing anything wrongly. Or perhaps Emily had exposed herself to a whole new virtual playground, that seemed to have struck a sexual chord in her that was far more stimulating, and might have even spoilt the market for all things vanilla coming from her fiancé. Sir Cumalot: Excuse you. I’m a Sir, not Ryan. Sir Cumalot: You didn’t honestly think I actually asked you to put on a show for your fiancé, but not for me, did you? Sir Cumalot: I hope I don’t need to have to hand hold you on every aspect of our arrangement, and that a girl as intelligent as you should know how to take the right initiatives. I’m not exactly known for my patience nor tolerance… Meanwhile, Ryan’s hand was looking like it was discreetly moving on a slow but consistent rhythm off screen. The boy was sweet and his English blood had instilled in him, a sense of decorum. He wasn’t exactly at the stage whereby he would crassly and tastelessly declare that he was rubbing himself off to the love of his life that, which he had always treated her with dignity and respect, rather than just a slab of meat. When Emily finally slipped her toy in, the microphone of the mysterious Cumalot got unmuted. There, she was greeted by the sounds of a man’s breathing, emitted through her air pod. The next moment, the shaft of the gravity began to thrust - on its own accord - nice and slow, in and out of her love tunnel for a start. That was accompanied by the deepening of the mystery man’s breath, big inhales and exhales, in sync with the pace of the toy’s thrusts. Beyond the black screen of the man’s avatar, had to be Cumalot working his hips on a bout of sensual rolls that was guiding the movement of her gravity. Apart from that however, his breaths were all the sounds that were afforded. “Gosh baby. I wish I could touch you right now.” Sir Cumalot: No, he shall not. Sir Cumalot: Tell him it is not up to him to decide if he could ever touch you from now on, but you. Sir Cumalot: He doesn’t get to touch you. Not without your - and by extension, my - permission. The man was testing, pushing, her boundaries. But that was exactly what their his game was all about. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

 

[Chai]

	emily larson __ ▬▬▬ _ age: 22 _ _ | _ _ height: 5'4" _ _ | _ _ birthday: may 21 _
	● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● Even through her half-lidded eyes, Emily could see the Only Fans notifications pouring in as she pushed the dildo an inch further into her pussy. The knowledge that Sir Cumalot had posted something to her account only made her hatred of him grow, the twisted knot in her stomach attaching itself to the person that she thought deserved the most blame: him. He was the reason she was even in this situation to begin with. He was the reason she was being forced to humiliate herself in front of her own fiance. And yet, seeing the attention it brought her was addictive all the same. Another comment came in, praising her for the dedication to her fans, and her walls tightened around the toy. How shameful it was for her to enjoy this, to enjoy being desired by hundreds of men who now knew of her infidelity to her fiance, but Emily couldn't help the moan that escaped her throat. More warmth flooded between her legs, her juices glistening against the Gravity and spreading on her velvety lips. Then came the awareness of another sound and Emily knew Sir Cumalot had finally unmuted himself. She heard his breath, heavy and slow in her right Air Pod, drowning out the light hum of the vibrating Gravity. The young woman gasped, feeling the first thrust, and sunk her body into the bed. Her head fell back and splayed her long blonde hair onto the pile of pillows behind her. The pink on her cheeks seemed to flush even deeper, shame, arousal, and hatred mixing together to create a heady concoction that heightened every sensation. As much as she hated him, Sir Cumalot's breathing in sync with the Gravity made her tighten around the toy in a rhythmic pulse. Each breath sent shivers dancing across her skin; every thrust made her walls quiver. “Gosh baby. I wish I could touch you right now," she heard Ryan say, and looked up to see him stroking himself just out of view of his camera. The top of his fist was just visible. His eyes looked glassy as he watched her—clearly his business trips had taken a toll on their sex life, a hint of sadness on his face. Emily saw Sir Cumalot's messages and scoffed internally. There were a lot of direction she was willing to take, and interfering in her Only Fans activity was one thing, but interfering with her future marriage was another thing entirely. Annoyance flashed through her, strong and sudden, even in spite of her horniness. She propped herself up on one elbow and glanced briefly in the direction of her computer's webcam—she wanted Sir Cumalot to know that she wouldn't take everything laying down like she was some helpless animal. "I want you to touch me, too, baby," Emily replied to her fiance, biting her bottom lip and letting out a moan. "I wish you were here with me. It's been so long..." She closed her eyes and thought of the last time she and Ryan had been together. Just a week ago, before he had left for his business trip to Texas. The sex between them had never been bad, though it lacked the excitement she had grown accustomed to over the years. Still she reminisced over him, about the way his hands felt over her body, or how he would hold her as they made love. Though in a way she had yet to realize, the fervor with which she gasped his name and moaned her pleasure seemed oddly out of place. "When you come home fuck me just like this," Emily crooned into her phone camera, her pink lips parting as she took a ragged breath. "So deep, Ryan, oh my god..." Her free hand reached up to play with her breast over the lingerie, squeezing the flesh and teasing her nipple over the baby blue lace. After a moment she pulled the fabric to the side, revealing the taut pink peak. She rolled it between her fingers, pinching it and skimming her fingertips delicately across the skin. It made the ache between her legs grow stronger, a pressure building that she knew would soon release. "I'm going to cum for you, baby," she whispered, absently wondering if Sir Cumalot was also perhaps enjoying the show. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

 

[Keith Logan]

	Ivan Marwood __ ▬▬▬ _ age: 27 _ _ | _ _ height: 5'8" _ _ | _ _ birthday: apr 10 _
	● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● To say that she was getting attention was an understatement. The likes and comments of the most recent upload was accumulating at an unprecedented rate. But most importantly of all, the tips she was raking in as the night unfolded? People holier than thou that detested the concept of e-girls that surrender the dignity of their bodies for money would jump at the opportunity to start a cancelling campaign against her, if they knew just how much was being fed into her e-wallet for cheating on her fiancé - she was literally getting paid, to practice adultery. If being under the limelight and the monetary gains that came with it were the only things that kept her enthralled to her OnlyFans ambition, Emily would be a fool to not see that this was the sort of niche that could set her on a path to early retirement. Emily Larson. Cheating Fiancée. Cash cow. Play thing. It was then that Ivan just realised, that he was in a prime position to essentially turn Emily into those things that he had spontaneously thought of her. And he got a sense that it might not be as mountainous an aspiration, given how that despite being held with a metaphorical knife against her throat, she somehow still found a way to be turned on by the depravity of the situation. The shine on her soaked womanhood was unmistakeable. Her sex, looking incredibly inviting. Sir Cumalot: Look at how drenched you are. Sir Cumalot: Why give me the death stare? Hypocrite. Sir Cumalot: I think you’ll never be able to drop this dirty little hobby of yours, ever. Even your fiancé would have a tough time convincing you so, I bet. Sir Cumalot: But we won’t have to worry about that in the foreseeable future. It’s not like you can drop it now, anyway. For I’m just barely.. getting started with my share of fun . Once Emily angled the hot pink rod by the entrance of her orifice, the mysterious man wasted no time pumping into his toy, resulting in Emily’s gravity whirring to life. The synchronised first thrust, splitting her love canal apart when she least expected. It started with a few slow and sensual accustoming thrust. But it didn't take long before the pace of the retractable silicon stick began picking up to an exponential pace. Emily didn't look like she needed much foreplay to get herself slick and receptive - she had pretty much did the bulk of the labour with her little show just right before the night went downhill for the young lady. It definitely didn't escape the mystery man's attention when she deliberately flashed a glance over to her webcam. He recognised the face of defiance, which frankly only spurred him on to want to conjure out even more debauched ideas on the go. He wanted her to understand that the rules of the game has changed to his terms. And if defiance was her choice of response, then she would only have herself to blame if he got fired up to double down on his torment on her. "I want you to touch me, too, baby," "I wish you were here with me. It's been so long..." "When you come home fuck me just like this," "So deep, Ryan, oh my god..."​ "Fuck.. you're such an angel." Ryan's hand strokes could be seen getting progressively more firm. But it was never fast paced. He had always preferred sex to be sensual and tantric. He had never gone rough with Emily because he simply could not bring himself to animalise his porcelain sweetheart. This was in stark contrast to the manner in which the gravity was starting to plough ruthlessly into her cunt at an unforgiving pace. "Mmmff... Mmmh..! I could never brutalise you lik- Nngg.. like that, baby. You're to-.. too precious mmh! To me!" Ivan was annoyed at Emily's blatant disregard of his order. In response, he uploaded a video of her getting fucked while conversing with Ryan no more than five minutes later, with the caption: 'One fortunate fan amongst the lot of you right now, is 'fucking' me in front of my clueless Ry Ry (fiancé) '. The clip looked cropped from its display dimension. But, her face was dangerously close to being exposed. It was the first time ever in any of her uploads, that her mouth, up to her nose were on display. But more provocatively, Ivan had just exposed one of the most personal details about her life to her fanbase - the partial name of her beloved. She was dealing with a man who had full access to her sacred account, and the only one who possessed unrestricted view of her entire body, with the ability to record and archive her illicit lascivious acts in a storage that was beyond her reach and control. Perhaps she didn't have the liberty of time to fully process and understand the implications at first. But the moment she connected her webcam, that was the beginning of her walking down the irreversible path of eternal servitude, signing her life away. Sir Cumalot: That was strike one by the way, if you haven't already caught up. Sir Cumalot: I should have you reminded for the first and last time, that you're doing this show for me, not your fiancé. Sir Cumalot: Don't test me. "I'm going to cum for you, baby,"​ The sound of Ivan’s breaths got shorter, swifter and progressively irregular, which came in tandem with his increasingly unpredictable thrusting rhythm. He was paradoxically mute, yet loud at the same time. He picked up the pace of his pounding and went on a blissfully rough and rapid intensity. But it was short lived. Treating it as if it was a game, he ploughed her cunt until he was fairly certain she was close to her edge, judging from the sight of her entire body tensing up, to then use it as his cue to abruptly end the pounding. The toy completely stopped moving, leaving her hanging on that precipice. To add insult to her metaphorical wound, Ryan himself came within short seconds later. His fresh seeds, could be seen spurting out on her screen. Sir Cumalot: Oh no. You’re not allowed to cum, Princess. Sir Cumalot: You don’t think you deserve it, do you? Sir Cumalot: Don’t you dare try to get yourself off without my permission now. You have been warned. It was only a minute later, that a new post was being uploaded, consisting of a short few seconds clip in the moments following her denied release coinciding with her boyfriend’s loud groans through the speakers that sounded out his orgasm. Her face, conveniently looking what seemed like a combination of frown and desperation plastered across her face, captioned to the perfectly time opportunity. ‘Shit. Premature ejaculation. AGAIN. .’ ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●