Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
CADE
I stare at her laptop in shock.
Just like I’ve been doing for the past however long. I know it’s been minutes, but it feels like hours because…
I lean back in my chair in my room where I keep my smaller desk that now houses all my important material.
Can’t be too careful with Jack here…this is the one room he doesn’t quite dare go into, and I have fucking cameras and silent alarms.
My eyes can’t look away as I rub my hand over my head.
What the actual fuck?
Who knew innocent little Violet was so dirty?
I’ve got my brother’s laptop open, too. But his is just full of games for when he’s not here, which is almost never, and apparently, he doesn’t take computers to Vegas, for obvious reasons. Games, old schoolwork, porn sites he hasn’t shut down, and a whole bunch of spam.
And judging from his history, he and Vi don’t align in that way.
Whoever she’s been talking to on her filthy, dirty sites is not him.
She changed her passwords when she got downstairs because you bet I was on here in seconds after she left. I could see the main problem immediately. She’d ruined her power cord and run her computer all the way down to dead and buried battery.
It’s juicing up, and I need to get her a new cord, but, fuck.
Violet.
Yeah, it’s cute and funny she thought her old passwords and the new ones would keep me out.
It’s also alarming.
She’s got real shit on here, not only about her particular urges and needs, but about that scumbag, Isaac. There’s a treasure trove of emails from him that are downright creepy, as well as information she probably thinks isn’t harmful but could be, in the wrong hands.
I’m thinking I need to have some fucking choice words with her about cybersecurity.
“Oh, yeah, because she’d just love that.”
Any way I look at it, the conversation would be completely humiliating for her.
Which is the last thing I want.
I’m not going to kink shame.
But fuck.
She needs to learn to protect herself.
I go deeper into her browser history and hack into a site I know.
Holy hell. There are pictures of her, too.
Thank fuck her clothes are on, but I never really thought her tits were so generous or those curves lay beneath her mostly conservative clothes.
“The girl wears Kermit PJs, for fuck’s sake.”
But not in the picture.
It’s silk, and her hands are wrapped in black silk to denote being tied up.
It’s just her torso, a standard selfie on her computer or phone and cropped so no features show, but it’s her. I know it.
Men on these sites, if they don’t think they’ll make the cut, tend to use some big dick pics from a porn site, or from someone else. Women might show a tit, or bare it all, depending, but it’s almost always the girl.
And the tendril of hair in the thumbnail photo is the same as Violet’s.
It’s her.
The first fetish site isn’t leather or pain or people wanting to be treated like a dog or horse. It’s not a site for those into latex or piss pants or any of that shit.
The first site, in fact the three of them she likes to go to, are for subs looking for a master, and masters looking for subs.
It’s weirdly the kinkiest of them.
The others she doesn’t have an account she uses to talk to anyone. There are messages in those inboxes but apart from the first one or two, none have been opened.
The kinkiest site? She has an active email account.
She doesn’t respond much, but woah, man. Fuck.
Rape fantasies. She wants to be raped, dragged off and forced to perform lewd sex acts and forced to come. She wants the degradation of being shared by men, seen as nothing but holes.
All of her fantasies are of her having no control. All of them are about her coming hard. Being pushed to her limits.
Whether they’re so hardcore dirty that it’d probably make Enzo blush, or soft-edged baby girl looking for a hard-line Daddy to push her limits and make her feel bad in the best ways, I can see her truth.
She wants to experience the depths of subspace, of that dynamic exchange of power where the limits are set beforehand, and she’s taken for the ride of her life.
I want to be in that driver’s seat.
Because the chase, control, the so-called upper hand appeal to me. I’m dominant, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen someone so real with it spread out like a smorgasbord before me.
She’s a conundrum. The sweet innocence is gutter filthy, or wants to be.
I’ve had enough experience to know the real deal when I see it, more than enough. And it’s why I want to be in that driver’s seat. It’s why all these men are crawling all over her.
I haven’t done much, so I’d be yours to do with what you want. Take me, fuck me in front of your friends, a toy to be used, abused, a piece of cum meat.
It goes on.
That one on the surface is the most graphic, but it’s just pure fantasy, I can see it.
The dichotomy of being treated as nothing and yet being worshipped. The Madonna and whore taken to extremes.
She goes on about being forced to ride men to orgasm, and when she can’t take any more, forced to cum some more.
I can see her thinking of these men who treat her lovingly while debasing her.
To me, it’s entry level, even in its utter filthy extremes. Being taken by multiple men, passed around, talked about in words of praise.
It’s a girl trying to find her footing, to find a place to start with her fantasies and needs.
Does it make me hard? Fuck, yes.
Do I think she actually wants this?
No.
Offer after offer has poured into that one, and some of them are even genuine from groups that do this, men who would give her that fantasy. They all have tests, contracts, everything is set up. I hack them too, so I know this.
I hack the creeps, too. Make a list.
But she’d have responded, or opened more than the one or two she has to that particular fantasy trope.
Like the other hardcore fantasies, this is one she hasn’t sent one reply to.
But from that, Vi found her niche.
On other sites, she’s replied to a few emails, flirted a little with sex talk and fantasies but stopped responding the moment the man wanted to meet.
I run my hand over my jaw.
Rape fantasy isn’t about rape. Because there’s nothing sexy there. It’s the fantasy of giving up control, and she likes that idea.
I’m seeing this sweet, quiet girl in a whole new light. More disturbingly, though, I’m not just turned on by the fantasies because they’re so up my fucking alley it isn’t funny, I think I might be turned on by her.
My brother’s ex-girlfriend.
“Fuck, Cade. Way to go.”
But I can’t deny I want nothing more than to help her live out the numerous fantasies she’s listed in excruciatingly graphic detail.
She needs a good master, a good Daddy—though I’m not exactly a daddy, but I don’t think she knows exactly what kind of master she wants, she just knows she wants to be someone’s good girl and punished and pushed and taken to the brink of all her limits.
I could do that.
And she keeps coming back to the rape fantasy, the against her will fantasy, even though she’s willing.
I’m leaning toward the idea that she might be into primal play in how she keeps hitting on variations of being chased, taken, forced against her will and then made to like what’s happening to her. She wants to have her sexuality unleashed and come harder than she’s ever come before.
Christ almighty, no wonder she doesn’t want me to see any of this.
Doesn’t want anyone to see.
How the fuck did Jack even land a girl so intriguing and hot as this one?
Then I see another icon for the browser below.
I click on that.
It’s full of stuff about me.
The Ghost, I mean.
Gossip shit, forums, things I’ve done.
And I open up the history there.
A frisson of electricity shoots through me.
My website.
It’s not exactly in the dark web, but it’s in a dark sphere of it. It bounces and routes all over the place, like anything I do. Just in case I’m being hunted. Just in case I miss some hacker setting off alerts.
But no one’s doing that.
I’m looking at my own site through Violet’s eyes.
I can see easily what she thinks she sees. A sexual hitman, someone who turns computers sexy, who can be or do anything, even fulfill fantasies.
She doesn’t even have to have written a word because she clearly went through the entire forum where women speculate about me. And lie. Some have built fantasies that I’ve done all kinds of things to them.
Stalked them, spied, and crept in to have my way with them, gifting them with the most spectacular sexual experience of their lives.
I haven’t done any such thing, but Vi2l, Violet’s dead giveaway handle she chose is into those, she asked questions, wanted to know what it was like.
She posted those in the early hours of this morning, and I’m pretty fucking sure Vi2l was drunk as fuck because her spelling is full of typos.
But Vi’s done more than that.
Fuck.
She submitted a question to me.
At least, I think she did because it looks like she hit the ghost message button.
Her message’s gone from her computer, but I set it up so no one could leave a trace, but they’d know they submitted something. So, from her computer, I can’t see what she said.
I log onto my computer and bring up the correspondences from the site I received in the past twenty-four hours.
Usually, I ignore that shit unless it’s headed in the right way to let me know someone’s got a legitimate concern.
The number of emails I get from girls—and some guys—begging me to fuck them would astonish most people.
I’m so used to it I can cherry pick the legit shit in seconds. And the sex stuff? It doesn’t even make me blink.
But Violet writing to me? That’s fucking interesting.
Then again, maybe she wants me to finish destroying Isaac.
I find her email.
Ghost, I think you might be stalking me already.
I want you to stalk me harder. I want you to do things to me.
Chase me down, force me to my knees and make me deep-throat you.
I want you to take me, strip me bare. In public, make me cum for you.
I want your tongue on my clit, your cock up my pussy, my ass. I want you to make me your slave.
More than that, I want you to push me to my very edges. I want to be scared and chased and taken. I want—no, I need to lose control. To you. I need to be at your mercy and command. I have more. If you’re interested.
“Oh, I’m interested…”
My own words out loud shock me.
I’m not interested because it’s my kind of fantasy from a girl who’s never done anything like this.
Sure, I’ve no proof, but I’d bet my reputation the closest she’s come is to ask Jack to tie her up.
My stomach twists and lurches at that.
Jack’s too lazy to do that. I think Jack might also be too vanilla. Maybe not. Just because he’s got the regular porn most have on his computer doesn’t mean there aren’t some darker fantasies in his head, but if he has them, they just don’t mesh with hers.
I don’t know why the thought of Jack doing anything kinky with her bothers me. I know about their sex. I’ve heard them, not that often, because I’m not sure how often it happens, but that…it’s vanilla sex, boring sex, and no one sounds overly excited by it.
Or rather, Vi hasn’t.
She’s sounded like she has a good time, but she doesn’t sound like a wild woman, a woman who’s experiencing the depths of pleasure.
I stare at the message.
Never in my life have I ever wanted to respond to a sexual proposition message.
Except now.
And I contemplate it.
I think… I think I’m going to do it.
I’m going to reply to her message.