Bill4Buckeyes: Your parents are asleep, right?
MissBrat: Yeah.
Bill4Buckeyes: Good. I believe you promised that you were going to show me a little more than your panties tonight.
MissBrat: What do you want to see?
Bill4Buckeyes: Everything…
MissBrat: I’d rather hear what you would do to me if you came through the door right now—if you were my Daddy.
Bill4Buckeyes: You know exactly what I’d to you. I’d pull those panties down and give you a spanking.
MissBrat: What would you do when you saw how wet it made me?
Bill4Buckeyes: I’d put you on your knees—and make you apologize for that naughty behavior with those soft, pouty lips.
It was time. I had hours of chat logs—chat logs that could destroy his happy home, ruin his marriage, and make sure all of the people at his company knew what kind of pervert he was. I even had a few videos of him with his dick out, pleasuring himself to the things we talked about. He was about to start doing that again—his hand had already moved beneath his desk. At least he would be stroking his cock when he found out how much trouble he was really in. I flipped over to his Facebook page and send him a friend request as Samantha Banks, which is what he believed MissBrat’s real name was. He kept typing, but then I saw a look of concern on his face. His head tilted—then he turned on the microphone instead of typing.
“Did you just send me a fucking friend request?” His
voice was hushed, and he quickly looked over his shoulder.
“Yes.” I smiled and hit record—just in case he said something else that was useful when his emotions got the best of him.
“You can’t do that! Come on—my wife…” He swallowed hard.
“Oh? Should I send her a friend request too? How about all these other people—friends, family, co-workers. Maybe they’d like to be my friend.” I nodded quickly.
“What the fuck.” His face went ghost white.
“I’m sorry, Bill. This is the part where you pay me not to send them all of our chat logs, all of the videos of you pleasuring yourself—and the one we’re making right now.” I sighed, feeling remorse, but keeping myself together until the deal was closed.
His screen went black. That wasn’t an unusual response. It was fairly common for guys I manipulated to immediately believe they could shut down their computer and make the problem go away. It wouldn’t. I had ways to make sure he understood that I was serious, but I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. For a man like him, with plenty of money at his disposal, my price was cheap. I’d let him know that as soon as he came crawling back and begged me not to expose his darkest secrets. I could wait. The deal was already closed. It was just the price we had to negotiate on—it would be a drop in the bucket for him. A small price to pay for his little fantasy with MissBrat.
Mauro
One year ago
“Mr. Jackson.” My assistant, a curvy, long-legged blonde named Abigail, pushed my office door open. “There’s a call for you on line one.”
“I told you I’m busy.” I looked up from my desk and grumbled under my breath.
“It’s—important sir. It’s your sister-in-law, Katie.” She swallowed hard and I saw tears forming in the corner of her eyes.
Oh fuck—she’s never called me before. Fuck.
“Hello? Katie?” I grabbed my phone and pressed it to my ear.
I wasn’t prepared for what Katie was about to tell me. The phone nearly dropped out of my hand when I heard her words and managed to process them—my brother, Wyatt, was dead. He had taken his own life. I didn’t know how to respond. A numbness swept over me and the words got trapped in my esophagus. I finally managed to thank her for calling me and let her know I would tell the rest of my family. After I put the phone down, Katie ran into my office and hugged me. I didn’t really care for her touch, but I was so overcome by grief that I didn’t care. I wouldn’t be the only one shedding tears. Wyatt was well-loved by everyone at our family’s company. Most of them hoped he would be the one sitting in my chair—but he wanted to get married and have a family. I never thought he would be the kind of man who would take his own life. I couldn’t even process what could have led him to that point.
“I—I need to call Reynard.” I swallowed hard and squeezed my eyes closed to fight the tears.
It was the middle of the workday, which meant Reynard was likely at a strip club or balls deep in a whore. I hoped it was the former because he wouldn’t answer his phone if it was the latter. He answered the phone after the first ring and I managed to choke out the words before he told me that he was on the way. The next call needed to be to our mother, and I wasn’t sure I had the strength to tell her that her oldest son was dead. Word spread quickly through the office, and by the time Reynard walked through the door, I had received condolences from several of my employees.
“There’s no way he fucking killed himself!” Reynard pushed his way through the door wearing anger on his face instead of grief. “He wouldn’t do that! He loved life!”
“Reynard, you’re just upset.” I held up my hands. “Have a drink—otherwise I’m going to drink the whole bottle before I work up the courage to call Mom.”