Page 2 of Sin For Me

There is no way out of this fucking nightmare. For the last two hours, I have been watching some electricians fumble around in the room trying to figure out how to get the monitors all set up in a way that makes sense. The setup of a room that consists of a number of monitors cannot possibly be as difficult as it seems?

My electrician has been trying to figure out how to make all the walls in one of my video suites into a flowing television monitor for over three damn weeks now, and I have yet to see any progress. The problem will not be solved without some type of catastrophic electrical failure. I have done it in three other rooms without any problems, but this one room is giving me some trouble. I believe they say that it overloads the circuits or some shit like that.

It is obvious to me that what they really want from me is for me to spend more money. In New York, it all boils down to one thing: money. People who spend the most money are the ones who receive the best service from the companies. There is no way that I am going to spend another dime with this company. As it is, they are already draining my bank account dry, and I can't stand it anymore.

"Aren't you the same people that set up the room down the hall?" I ask doing my best to keep my temper in control. It's a lot harder than most people think.

"Yes sir, but that room was on it's own separate fuse box and it had access to direct lines. To do the same thing in here we'd have to do some drilling and that would put this entire are of the club out of commission for at least two months.

"What the fuck? No. I'm not going to have you shut down my club just because you need to go find a new electrical source." I bark at the man and he takes a step back. I rub my hand down my face, the prickly stubble on my chin scrapping against my palm.

"Fine, what can you do in this room that would allow me to have at least three walls converted into monitors.

The electrician looked around the room as if he were trying to envision what I wanted. "I can try to get those three walls on the same system but there's no guarantee that it won't fry your system. Honestly, if you're going to be running all this power for a long time, you need to think about getting a more solid link to the power grid." he shrugs, and I dismiss him. I don't need him to tell me what the fuck I need to do.

I've been doing pretty good with what I have so far. In fact, I've been doing better than most.

My club is by far one of the most talked about club in New York, even though no one ever knows that's what people are talking about. I'm the best kept secret, and I'd like to keep it that way. People come to Hidden Sinners club to let all their inhibitions go.

My club focuses on the fetishes people don't really like to talk about. The ones that most would be ashamed about. Not me. I embrace them. Of course as long as it's legal, consensual and doesn't bring harm to anyone underage, I'm all with it. My club is where people go when they want to see the unimaginable. Where they want to be a part of the wrong crowd for just a moment and where they want to come hard while they do it. I've had more famous guests in these walls then most people would believe.

You want someone to hold you down and rape you.You can do that here.

You want to dress up like a fox and have someone chase through the property before they mount youu like a beast, that's available.

You want to sit in the corner while your wife is fucked by another man. I have a fulll roster of people ready and willing to give you exactly what you're asking for,

Along with all of these seemingly secret fetishes one of the most asked for is the desire to be a star. Everyone wants to be with a porn star at one point. They want to make that sex tape that might get leaked. They want to see what going on behind the scenes. That level of exhibitionism or voyeurism is what really pays the bills around here. This new room is supposed to be exactly what I needed to get that side of my business off the ground. Sites like OnlyFans and Pornhub paved the way for amateur porn. Here at Hidden Sinners you can direct your own porno or log in to see some of our workers doing anything you want them to do. Not only do the workers make good money from the tips but there's a base fee that everyone pays that comes directly to the club. If things keep up the way they are going I'm not ever going to need to throw another party in order to pay the bills. Everything after will be purely profit.

When my father left me this club, I thought for sure this was going to be much harder than it is. Sure, it's hard and it seems like everyday something else is happening that I have to take care of but I doubted that It would have the potential to turn me into a billionaire. A few more good months and that's precisely what's going to happen.

I hear a bit of laughter, and when I turn my head I see the same electrician who claimed to be working diligently, laughing and shooting the breeze with his workers. So much for putting the project first.

With a shake of my head, I make my way out of the room. All the already built live shoot rooms are in use and there are a few guests moseying around going into the other rooms. Everyone that bothers to come into this club knows there's a chance, unless you indicate otherwise, to have someone come in to watch you have sex. That's the joy of exhibitionism. There's nothing better than not knowing if you're going to get caught.

I follow some of the people into one of the rooms, only to see a woman tied up and laid across a whipping bench. One man has his dick in her mouth while the other is banging into her from behind. When I come in the room, her eyes jerk up to mine and she squeezes her eyes shut. Pretending as if she doesn't want me to see what's happening to her. It's all part of her fantasy.

A fantasy that I made sure I can give as many people as possible. They want us to see how deranged and freaky they are I'm more than happy to help. Now I have to figure out a way to make sure that new room is up and running. And I have to find some new workers to sit in front of the camera's and give all those freaky people at home what they are willing to pay for.

2

Babette

"Sweetness, the thing about this is you can't just expect to make tips if you try not to talk to them. You need to put yourself out there more," Lilian says as she takes another button off my shirt. My skin crawls as I feel the eyes of those around me staring at me. My father had told me that people would use my body for their own ends if they had the chance. It wasn't until the very moment I got to New York that I realized exactly what he meant.

When I ran away from my father I figured that it would be tough to get on my feet, but I never imagined that I would have such a hard time making it here. Therefore, I made the decision to run away from him as soon as possible. A week after I had been trying to live off the five hundred dollars that I had in my pocket, I was able to get a job in a small bar near time square where I could make enough money to survive. In this bar, there was no doubt that one of the main attractions was the fact that all the women were required to wear cowboy boots, plaid shirts, and short skirts. My down south accent did just enough to convey what Lilian says is the dream all the men wanted. In spite of the fact that they could not really have me, they wanted the southern bell.

There were times when I was happy with the tips that I was getting, but on the other hand there would be times when I had to slap people's hands off of me just as soon as I started helping them.

I've never been touched like that, or had my ass touched by anyone like that. It was very annoying to go from never being touched to suddenly feeling all these men grab and squeeze my ass as I walked by.

Now that I have been here for six months, it is hard to believe that it has been that long. It seems that Lilian's sweet and innocent routine, at least the way she sees it, is starting to wear off, according to her.

Apparently, now they expect me to loosen up, show a little more cleavage, and even take a few numbers to act as if I would call them.

In my mind, I expected a certain level of human decency; I was wrong. For the most part, everyone was like my father.

It wasn't so much that they were grooming me, in order to sell me off to the highest bidder, or that they were vying to become the highest bidder themselves, but more so that they were only looking out for themselves and no one else.

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