The Idol’s Mommy Kink - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
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The air was thick with screams - real, raw, and ragged between the sharp cracks of leather meeting skin. Even through the closed door, I didn't need to see to know exactly what horror was unfolding inside.
This wasn't just kink. This was full-blown torture.
White-hot rage shot through my veins. If this continued, we weren't just talking about bad publicity - this was felony territory. One leaked photo and Julian Ashcroft's golden boy image would be toast.
CRASH!
Before my brain could catch up, my foot connected with the door. It flew open to reveal a nightmare tableau.
The basement looked like a medieval dungeon - restraints, strange devices, the works. Center stage? A naked woman strapped to some kind of frame, Julian standing over her with a raised whip. Her body glistened with what looked like fresh blood.
"Do you have any idea how many laws you're breaking?!" My fear evaporated as fury took over, storming forward to free her.
But as I got closer, the sickly-sweet scent of honey hit my nostrils.
"Who the fuck are you?" The woman - now untied - didn't look grateful. She looked ready to murder me. "This is a private residence!"
"I thought he was hurting you!" My protest died in my throat as I took in the sticky reality. Not blood. Honey. Those angry red marks? Probably food coloring. And Julian's "torture device"? The same damn pleasure whip I'd used on Adrian Roland yesterday - the kind that delivers more psychological thrill than actual pain.
"Nobody asked for your white knight complex!" she spat, wrapping a robe around herself. "We were having a perfectly good time until you decided to play hero."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Shit. My bad. I'll just..." I turned to make my escape when recognition hit.
This was Vanessa Lefèvre - the same crying girl from Adrian's villa yesterday. The D-lister famous for two things: never landing a real role, and bedding every A-list actor in Hollywood. No wonder tabloids ate her up - she really did get around.
My eyes darted around the basement. I'd thought Adrian's collection was extreme, but Julian? The guy had a full-on sex dungeon. Just as I was processing this, the real bomb dropped.
Julian collapsed at my feet, clinging to my legs like a lost child. "Mommy," he sobbed.
...Mommy?
My brain short-circuited. First Adrian, now Julian? What kind of messed-up idol factory were they running?
Vanessa looked like she'd been slapped. "Julian! Have you lost your mind?" Her voice climbed octaves. "She's just some agency-hired therapist! Not even good enough to—"
"SHUT UP!" Julian's transformation was instantaneous - from whimpering sub to furious dom in zero seconds flat. Without ceremony, he grabbed Vanessa's arm and dragged her out, her protests fading up the stairs.
This wasn't just kink. This was full-blown torture.
White-hot rage shot through my veins. If this continued, we weren't just talking about bad publicity - this was felony territory. One leaked photo and Julian Ashcroft's golden boy image would be toast.
CRASH!
Before my brain could catch up, my foot connected with the door. It flew open to reveal a nightmare tableau.
The basement looked like a medieval dungeon - restraints, strange devices, the works. Center stage? A naked woman strapped to some kind of frame, Julian standing over her with a raised whip. Her body glistened with what looked like fresh blood.
"Do you have any idea how many laws you're breaking?!" My fear evaporated as fury took over, storming forward to free her.
But as I got closer, the sickly-sweet scent of honey hit my nostrils.
"Who the fuck are you?" The woman - now untied - didn't look grateful. She looked ready to murder me. "This is a private residence!"
"I thought he was hurting you!" My protest died in my throat as I took in the sticky reality. Not blood. Honey. Those angry red marks? Probably food coloring. And Julian's "torture device"? The same damn pleasure whip I'd used on Adrian Roland yesterday - the kind that delivers more psychological thrill than actual pain.
"Nobody asked for your white knight complex!" she spat, wrapping a robe around herself. "We were having a perfectly good time until you decided to play hero."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Shit. My bad. I'll just..." I turned to make my escape when recognition hit.
This was Vanessa Lefèvre - the same crying girl from Adrian's villa yesterday. The D-lister famous for two things: never landing a real role, and bedding every A-list actor in Hollywood. No wonder tabloids ate her up - she really did get around.
My eyes darted around the basement. I'd thought Adrian's collection was extreme, but Julian? The guy had a full-on sex dungeon. Just as I was processing this, the real bomb dropped.
Julian collapsed at my feet, clinging to my legs like a lost child. "Mommy," he sobbed.
...Mommy?
My brain short-circuited. First Adrian, now Julian? What kind of messed-up idol factory were they running?
Vanessa looked like she'd been slapped. "Julian! Have you lost your mind?" Her voice climbed octaves. "She's just some agency-hired therapist! Not even good enough to—"
"SHUT UP!" Julian's transformation was instantaneous - from whimpering sub to furious dom in zero seconds flat. Without ceremony, he grabbed Vanessa's arm and dragged her out, her protests fading up the stairs.
End of The Idol’s Mommy Kink Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to The Idol’s Mommy Kink book page.