Page 45 of Shameful Addictions

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t make the rules.”

“None of us do, do we?” She sighed. “The people with all the money get to do that.”

Damian smiled. “Fine with me. I don’t want that responsibility anyway.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” she said scathingly. She turned her back on him. “Well, thanks, I guess. I’m off to go see Mamba.”

“Have fun.”

Charlotte went back down, passing the security guard again on her way out, though he paid no attention to her. His rasping breaths and little grunts let her know what he was doing, even though she made it a point not to look in his direction.

She got back in her car and started driving. She knew what Mamba would expect of her, so when she reached the place where the highway split off into the side road, she pulled off to the side and got undressed. She did it while standing out on the shoulder again. A car passed by while she was stripping, speeding along at nearly 80 mph, which was the reason it reached her though she had scanned for oncoming cars before getting out. The car’s brakes squealed as the driver registered what they had seen, the rear end of the vehicle fishtailing around before straightening out.

Charlotte got back in the car and drove again, letting the vibrations pass through the vehicle and to her pussy. Her cuntflaps jiggled and bounced around. She leaned forward and pressed her sensitive labia on the seat cushion. She moaned with delight, her pussy instantly growing warmer, wetter. It was difficult to keep her eyes open as her pleasure mounted. She put her hand down over her pussy and rubbed herself with her whole hand, moaning again.

Why is this so much easier than the first time?

Her juices wet her fingers. She kept rubbing herself, spreading her wet pussy juices all over her lips. The rattling vibration of the car beneath her kept sending jolts through her, and her juices kept coming.

No way could Mamba be displeased with her.

Reaching his mansion, she got out of her car and went up to his door. She knocked and waited with her legs spread, her big lips pink and pulsating.

Mamba opened the door, ebony eyes raking up and down her body. They lingered on her sopping wet pussy, the trickles of her juices running down her inner thighs. He smiled and backed out of the doorway. “Come inside.”

“Thank you, sir,” she murmured and went in. Her nervousness made her level of horniness go down. She clenched her inner muscles to try and keep her body excited. “Why am I filming here again? Am I allowed to ask that?”

“I want you under my watch at all times,” he replied, in a hiss. His usual hiss, though. She could read his mood easily now. “You need far too much instruction for me to allow you to go off and film videos on your own, Cuntflaps.”

Honestly, she couldn’t disagree. For him to get the videos he wanted, he had to be there or else she would never get it “right” on her own.

They headed up to the studio together. Charlotte sat down on the couch and Mamba handed over a script for her to look at.

“Read this,” he instructed in a very no-nonsense tone. “Get familiar with it. I’ll come back in a few minutes and then we’ll get to it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mamba strode out of the room, leaving her by herself–though he’d said before that he would be monitoring her every second.

Charlotte looked around and straight at the cameras, pointed at the couch where she sat. He had to be recording her every move even right then, she supposed. He could watch her from wherever he wanted as long as she was in this room.

She went back to the script and scanned the title. “How to be Popular with Boys. Part Two.”

Part two. Yes, she had written and filmed a video like this before. It hadn’t been labeled part one since she hadn’t felt any need for a continuation. Back then, her advice to young women had been to be themselves and focus on building up their confidence. How to be popular with boys, in Charlotte’s eyes, was for a girl to focus on becoming a capable and responsible woman, one who could give the right guy what he was looking for.

This script Mamba had written for her was a retraction of her prior statements, in favor of more sexual content.

She rubbed her forehead, using the screen of her hand to shield her rolling eyes from the camera. She understood that a lot of what she would be doing for a while was recanting her beliefs in favor of saying what Mamba wanted her to, as his puppet.

At least she knew pretty well what he would want by now. It would be easy to please him.

Once she’d finished reading the script for the first time, she checked on how she was doing down there. Reading wasn’t exactly the most sexually stimulating activity and she was going dry. Mamba was probably watching her pussy’s glisten lessen in real time on the other side of the door, through some sort of app, maybe. He wouldn’t be pleased.

And it was embarrassing.

Charlotte was surprised at herself for being embarrassed about her sandpaper-dry pussy. She was still a woman. She could still perform and she thought she could be good at it when she was into it. She might be a prude or old-fashioned in some people’s eyes, but she knew she could have a good time in the right environment.

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