Page 6 of Gluttony

He’d lied.

And she had her answer.

THREE

As the womanslipped from the bed, Redtube reached forward and turned off the digital camera set in the tripod near the footboard, his movements stiff, his mind whirring. He’d stopped recording an hour ago, but the action in the bed had kept going, just like every other time he’d play a scene with a woman he’d invited home with him. He’d tease her on camera, drawing out the sensuality, then he’d tie her hands to the headboard and draw out every drop of pleasure from her body. Once she was begging for his cock, he cut the recording, slipped on the condom, and fucked her until her eyes rolled back in her head.

Yeah, he didn’t film that part; he wasn’t making porn, at least that’s what he told his prez when the man asked if he was putting the club’s reputation on the line. Red was aware that his lines were blurred, that what he was doing was just on the edge of what could be flagged as too adult for social media, but he always made sure to keep things sexy but not gratuitous; he knew the kind of shit he’d get into if he dragged the Unchained through legal muck.

So, he kept the fucking off camera, where he didn’t need to worry about getting the club in trouble because of his gluttony.

These days, his bedroom was more like a film studio rather than a sanctuary, where he could hide away from the world, relax, refresh, and rest.

He’d spent the last two hours giving the woman everything she begged for…everything the viewers begged for, and still, he felt…dissatisfied. Once the recording stopped, he’d kept the fun going; he’d come, filling the condom, but that was nothing more than muscle memory, his body driving him to completion, a primal imperative and nothing more. Nothing that actually meant anything.

So why the fuck did he do it? That was a question that beat against his skull more and more lately, a question that had far too many layers, far too many possible answers, and none of them actually satisfying.

He filmed, he fucked, he changed the sheets, then he went to bed to do it all over against the next day.

“That was amazing, baby,” the woman purred, moving around the massive bed to sidle up next to where he was sitting, her stilettos in one hand and her ruby red dress in the other.

Not even bothering to look at her, he replied, suddenly exhausted, “It was, and now it’s over.”

Ignoring her gasp, he stood up and reached for his jeans where he’d dropped them after his strip tease…for the camera…for his viewers…to satisfy his ever-growing need for—fuck, he didn’t know.

Sex, kink, play, booze, lifting, handing out digital ass-whoopin’s for the club—nothing satisfied him anymore. There wasn’t a day gone by where he didn’t wake up with a yawning, aching, ravening hunger for something he couldn’t find.

My Daisy….

Fuck. Shit. Damn.

His Daisy, Valentina Ivanova, a woman he really shouldn’t be thinking about right now, naked and freshly fucked, with another woman’s pussy musk filling the air.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” the woman snapped, dragging her tight as fuck dress down over her naked body. When she’d removed her dress, she’d been naked underneath; she’d been well aware that his invitation at the classic car show in Scranton had been one of easy, string-free sex. She hadn’t minded about the cameras, had been eager, asking questions about where he’d be posting, and if he’d tag her so she could show her friends.

Is this what my life has become? Empty sex for attention and adoration from people who mean shit to me?

Swallowing down the sudden rising bile, Redtube turned to the woman, flashed her his patented “thank you for the fuck” smile, and drawled, “Sorry ‘bout that, peach. Got a lot on my mind right now. That said, I have a busy day tomorrow, and I need to get some sleep after that.”

Always leave them happy, always leave them wanting more—isn’t that what they all want?

From the first video he’d posted to the one he’d uploaded only days ago, the messages and comments were the same:that’s fucking hot, I can’t wait for the next one….And so, he’d played and filmed it, over and over, different women, different scenes, different themes—like a motherfucking mix ‘n’ match value menu.

At first, it had been fucking amazing; all the sex he wanted, with whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted—and it didn’t hurt that he was in an MC where the pussy was on tap and always DTF. The first two years, he got paid for fulfilling his various kinks on camera, hiding his true identity behind a mask, building a social media and then an OnlyFans following that netted him hundreds of thousands of dollars a year.

He'd sold his soul for the pleasure of living out his deepest, darkest sexual fantasies for profit. And he’d felt like a god, a thirst trap above all others online, and that had been enough.

Until something changed.

Until a DM pinged on his phone late one night and sent his world spiraling.

@xxxDaisyChainxxx: You’re Unchained

Before then, he’d only cared about what his MC brothers and his followers thought of him, wanted from him, expected of him. Theyallwanted something from him, something he could do for them, how they could use him for their own gain even as he did the same.

Not Valentina…she only wants you….

Shit. Fuck. Mothergoddamn!Now was definitely not the time to think about her, about her sweetness, her kindness, her innocence…. She was all that was good in the world, all that a filthy fucker like him didn’t deserve but still wanted anyway.

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