Page 41 of Shameful Addictions

He had been expecting this all along. For some reason, that didn’t shock her. He would have won out against her no matter what.

“But the script is pointless without someone to read it. You must be the evocative one, Cuntflaps. I’ve seen your older videos. I know there’s passion in you somewhere. Let’s see if you can put it to good use for once.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mamba stood, unfolding his muscular body to his great height. “I’ll take you to my studio. Come with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Charlotte intoned, standing up to follow him.

He stood there, glaring at her. “Try again.”

She froze, not sure for a moment what he was asking for. She trembled, trying to think of how she could please him.

Mamba’s glare went harsh, paralyzing. “What did I just say to you?”

Evocative. Passionate.

Charlotte understood in a snap. She blurted out with much more force, “Yes, sir!”

He laughed and shook his head and she froze again, not sure why he was still disapproving of her. Then, he moved on, leaving her standing there in the middle of his huge living room while he went off. She didn’t want to be alone and, even more than that, didn’t want to get him mad at her for being slow. She hurried off after him, following him through vast, bare halls in which the only decorations were mirrors hanging on the walls. Charlotte focused on Mamba’s back to keep from looking at her naked reflection over and over.

Mamba guided her to a spiraling, glassy staircase and down another set of halls, from which other halls and doors branched off. She was dizzy again, though now from the sheer size of the place. How did he ever know where he was going in here?

Eventually, he brought her to one door out of many and held it open for her. “Step inside.”

Charlotte edged into the room and looked around. The recording studio in front of her greatly reminded her of the sets at CM, a real room at one end, studded with cameras and recording software at the other. It looked like a lounge, with a huge red couch and a golden carpet to match with the shimmering red-and-yellow wallpaper.

Charlotte had seen porn only once in her entire life, enough for her to decide she hated it and would never, ever advocate it. Even from that one viewing, she knew that this set-up reminded her of a stage in a porn flick.

“You may be wondering why I have a studio in my own house.”

Charlotte nodded in a demure manner. Mamba sounded almost conversational right now.

The wealthy man surveyed his domain with pride, pulling the studio door shut behind him. “I do have some activities outside of the office. Most of them are for my own pleasure, but you will find me onsomewebsites online.” He paused and tilted his head, rubbing his chin. “Maybe I’ll make you watch some of them for research purposes. Now, it’s time for you to get dressed in the proper attire so you can shoot your video.”

“My clothes are in my car still.”

“Dumb bitch,” he said, almost fondly. “You aren’t going to wear any of that boring crap you fill your closet with. Let me show you my dressing room.”

Mamba took her over to a door at the other end of the studio, behind all the camera equipment. He opened the door, revealing what was actually a real dressing room, like the kind famous celebrities and actors got. Massive mirrors hung on the walls, looking over a fantastical quantity of every kind of makeup a woman could imagine. Rack upon rack of clothes framed the back wall, creating yet another maze.

He really likes to confuse and mystify.

She hardly cared. She was so glad she was going to get to wear clothes that she was beside herself.

Mamba crossed the room to one of the clothing racks. Charlotte followed eagerly. The assortment of dresses and gowns gave her so much hope.

“This one will do,” Mamba said. He grabbed a very small piece of clothing and thrust it at Charlotte, pushing it into her hands.

Charlotte gaped at the scrap of cloth he’d given her. She held it up in front of her, her hopes sinking again like a punctured balloon. He had handed her a filmy white tube top, barely big enough to cover her breasts and not much else. She stretched the fabric and gasped in horror as she was able to see her hands through the thin mesh of fibers.

“Is… this it?”

“That’s it. Put it on and then join me in the studio again. Don’t bother playing with any of the makeup. Your face is fine as it is.”

She blinked. “Really?”

He grabbed a handful of her blonde hair and swatted at her face with the ends. “Trust me, if it wasn’t, I would have had Dr. Dick perform more miracles upon you.”

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