Page 7 of Wickedly Played
“We’re not talking about that, Jim. You would do a lot better in life if you would stop talking about that.”
Jim blanches at my harsh words. “My dear one, you know we have to make sure you’re safe.”
“There has to be someone better than Captain Chucklehead.”
My agent snorts. “I hate to tell you this, baby girl, but he’s the best we’re going to find. His record is clear, and he is unattached. Give him a chance to show you what he is capable of doing.”
“Has he signed the NDA?” I question before pulling into my driveway. After typing in the gate code, I’m pulling into my garage.
“Don’t insult me.”
Once I’m parked, I close the garage door behind me. “Let me think about it.”
I’m about to hang up when I hear him use his I-mean-business voice. “Ser, lock the fucking doors, set the alarm, and don’t leave your house.”
“Yes, boss,” I retort before hanging up.
I moved into my house last year after I made some good money from caming online. Plus, my clients have been payingme quite a bit of money, allowing me to afford my mini mansion. It is a Spanish colonial from the early 1900s that I managed to update a little before moving in. The truth is, I love the vintage feel of my house and the fact that it is all mine. I bought it on a short sale when the market crashed, which was great for me. I dropped cash on it, along with paying extra to move in quicker.
Reaching across the center to grab my vintage Chanel bag, I hop out of my car. Once I’m inside, I follow Jim's directions. I don’t need him coming down here and fucking up the rest of my day.
This morning, Jim woke me up to let me know we had a meeting with another bodyguard. I liked the last two I had. It wasn’t anyone’s fault they were shot in the line of duty because one of my fans got too close to me, even though I blame myself for their injuries. Robert and David, both protected me from the fan, but were shot.
Needless to say, it was my fault. It was my fault they might never work again. Robert and David might never work in this industry again, and that is something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life. The world can see me as the heartless Domme, but I do take care of my people.
My ringing phone startles me. I look at the caller ID and shiver. “Hello?” I immediately regret answering the phone.
“A ghra,” the smoky voice rings in.
“No,” I greet back.
The old man whose voice has haunted my dreams, thoughts, and everything in between is on the other end of the line. “When are you going to stop this all and come home?”
Without responding to him, I hang up the phone. Nothing good will come from speaking to him, except that I'll spiral out of control.
I always knew what I was supposed to grow up to be, thanks to my family's constant reminders. I don’t need to be remindedof my worth to my family whenever they want to reopen my wounds.
My fingers rub over the scars I have spent so much time hating. They are deep, ugly, silvery, and raised as they mar my skin. I’ve done my best to come to terms with them and carry them like a badge of survival, but it doesn’t always work out for me. There are times I wish I could burn them off my skin and hope they would disappear. My subs were never brave enough to ask the questions lurking in the back of their minds about the raised flesh. They are hideous.
I get myself situated in my kitchen with a bottle of water and a snack and then go upstairs to take a shower. There’s buzzing at the gate, causing me to look at my app on my phone. I look at the car through the app, and don’t recognize it. “Who is at my house?” I ask myself. I don’t respond to the buzzing on the gate alarm, though. They can go away. In the back of my mind, I consider this to be the wizard I hung up on. I can’t deal with that.
I quickly curse when I see the time on my phone. I’m late, and I hate to be late. Stripping out of my clothes, I throw them in a pile on my bed. I rush to turn on the shower and then log in to the cam website for my subscribers.
“Hey, lovers,” I greet them while climbing into my shower. “How is everyone’s day going?” I begin to soap my body with my loofa, making sure to pay extra attention to my breasts and pussy. I purposely drop my loofa, lean over to grab it, and then wink at the camera.
“My day is so much better with you, lovers.”
My ten-minute shower consists of asking questions about my subscribers’ day, what I have done today, and then it turns a little sexual with me using my shower head on my clit.
“I wish you were here with me,” I moan. “If you would like to have a private video chat with me, please click the button,” I remind everyone.
I see several people are requesting a video with me, and I smirk to myself. From the shower, I can see the names requesting the time with me. Stallion14 has been a long-time fan of mine and helped pay for this house.
“Thank you, lovers! I will see you all tomorrow!” After shutting off the water, I wrap my body in one of my bath sheets, then accept the video request from Stallion14.
Stallion14 is a middle-aged man who has a huge dick. He loves to touch himself during our sessions and has a dirty mind. We agreed that I would be his Domme every other meeting.
“Hello, pet,” I greet him. I’m rubbing my towel over my hair to soak some of the water off it. “Have you been a good little pet this week?”
