Day 111

Two weeks. Fourteen days of navigating the quicksand that was your cursed life since the Green Enterprise Summit. Today marked the 111th day since Aphrodite had ruined everything. And now, here you were, on your knees once again at the Pinnacle Forum, yet another venue tied to this never-ending trial. But we’ll get to that later.

The past two weeks hadn’t exactly been a beacon of progress when it came to getting closer to Damian Kane. Events had been sparse, invitations even scarcer. Without Liam around to strategize, you’d been winging it, doing what you had to in order to survive. And "what you had to" had come to mean Vincent—seeing him almost every day to keep the cash flowing.

It had become routine, almost mechanical. Vincent would text you with a time, his cocky tone evident even through the screen. You’d meet him outside the dorm, always slipping into the passenger seat of his car. A mint would already be dissolving on your tongue, the metallic tang lingering as he drove to a secluded spot. And then, the inevitable: unbuckling his belt, leaning over, and letting the next hour vanish from your memory.

But two nights ago, Vincent had thrown a wrench into that routine.

It had started like usual. He’d picked you up in his car, his hand brushing against your bare thigh as you slid into the seat. The flirtation began almost immediately, as it always did.

“Looking good, as always,” he’d said, his eyes flicking down to your legs. “How do you keep this up? It’s dangerous, you know.”

“Dangerous?” you’d quipped, rolling your eyes. “What am I, a hazard sign?”

“More like a bombshell,” he replied, grinning as his hand lingered a little longer on the gearshift, brushing against your knee.

The car had stopped in the usual spot—a dimly lit parking lot shielded by towering oaks. As you leaned over to start your side of the deal, Vincent had stopped you, his hand catching your wrist.

“Wait,” he said, his voice tinged with a seriousness you hadn’t heard before.

You froze, confused. “What?”

He sighed, leaning back against the driver’s seat. “We’ve been doing this a lot, haven’t we?”

“That’s... kind of the deal,” you replied, your brow furrowing.

“Yeah, but—” He gestured vaguely, his tone almost sheepish. “I feel like... I shouldn’t have to keep paying you for this. We’re, like, friends now, right?”

The words hung in the air, and for a split second, you considered your options. But then, the resolve kicked in. You couldn’t afford to let him stop paying.

You tilted your head, a coy smile curving your lips as you leaned in closer. “Friends?” you murmured, your voice dropping into a sultry tone. “Vincent, sweetie, friends don’t do what we do. And they definitely don’t do it for free.”

His confidence faltered, his cocky grin slipping into something less sure. “Yeah, but I—”

“Shhh,” you interrupted, placing a finger on his lips before letting it trail down to his chest. “Don’t ruin a good thing, okay? You like this. I like this. Why change it?”

Vincent stared at you for a moment, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. Finally, he sighed, a resigned smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fine,” he muttered, reaching for his wallet. “You’re lucky you’re so damn good at this.”

“That’s the spirit,” you teased, taking the bills from his hand and slipping them into your clutch before getting to work.

And so, the arrangement had continued. The money flowed steadily, allowing you to pay Liam your half of the rent on time, with a crisp $600 envelope you’d left on the kitchen counter without a word.

The extra cash had even allowed for a few indulgences. You’d bought two new dresses last week, doing your best to navigate the overwhelming racks at the mall. The first dress was a simple black number, tight and short, with thin straps and a neckline that dipped just low enough to toe the line between classy and provocative. The second was a pale sky-blue dress, softer and more flowy, with a cinched waist and a skirt that fluttered just above your knees. You didn’t know much about fabrics or cuts, but the saleswoman had assured you they looked "stunning."

It felt odd, almost surreal, standing in front of the mirror in those dresses, knowing you’d bought them with money earned... like that. The thought made your stomach churn, but you’d quickly brushed it aside.

You had amassed over $2,500. This was independence. This was survival. This was necessity. That's what this was.

You smoothed down the fabric of your pale sky-blue dress as you sat in the luxurious booth at the Pinnacle Forum, the delicate flutter of the skirt brushing softly against your thighs. This dress was one of your newer purchases—flowy yet cinched at the waist, giving just the right amount of elegance and allure without appearing overdone. Beneath the dress, you wore a simple bra, its seamless structure keeping everything supported without being obvious, and matching panties. Your gold metallic heels, which you had paired perfectly for the occasion, shimmered faintly under the soft glow of the private booth’s lighting.

Your makeup tonight was balanced—foundation blended flawlessly with a touch of highlighter catching the ambient light. You’d chosen a peach-toned blush for warmth, eyeliner that was sharp enough to cut glass, and a slight-pink lip, which lent an understated charm while still pulling the look together.

You couldn’t afford to look overdone—not here. Not at the Pinnacle Forum, a place where power and elegance reigned supreme, and one wrong move could leave you on the outside looking in. Held at Toronto's iconic Royal Ontario Museum, the summit buzzed with energy, filled with the world’s most influential executives, investors, and innovators. The conversations were lofty, the ambitions palpable, and the stakes higher than ever. And you? You were Richard Solano’s plus one.

It felt strange being here without Vincent’s usual company—after all, he was far too low-class for this crowd—but Richard had made it clear that he wanted you, not his wife, at his side. You could still hear his earlier words:

“She’s not built for this kind of environment. But you? You’ve got the charm and poise to match. Plus,” he’d added with a smirk, “I don’t think Damian would spare her a second glance.”

Your stomach churned at the memory, a cocktail of flattery, disgust, and opportunity. Richard wasn’t wrong—if you played your cards right tonight, you’d have a shot at catching Damian Kane’s attention.

Earlier, you were seated in the private executive booth Richard had secured, sipping on a glass of white wine as he introduced you to his circle. The space was sleek and luxurious, with soft leather seating, dim lighting, and a view of the bustling forum floor below. It was the kind of setting that screamed exclusivity. The kind of setting where everyone knew everyone—except you.

And then, as if summoned by your determination, Damian Kane entered the booth.

He was taller than you expected, with broad shoulders and a presence that seemed to command the room. His tailored charcoal suit fit him perfectly, the crisp white shirt beneath it unbuttoned just enough to hint at a powerful physique. His sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes gave him an almost predatory air, and the faintest smirk tugged at his lips as he exchanged greetings with Richard and the others.

Richard, ever the showman, didn’t miss a beat. “Damian, let me introduce you to Luna,” he said, placing a hand on your lower back in a gesture that was equal parts supportive and possessive. “A new friend of mine with...exceptional talents.”

You felt Damian’s gaze sweep over you, assessing, calculating. It was the kind of look that made your heart race and your palms sweat, but you **** yourself to meet his eyes with a soft, confident smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kane,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm of nerves beneath the surface. Your heart had thudded as you stood to greet him. There he was, the man who held the key to completing this trial. Damian Kane was every bit as intimidating in person as his reputation suggested. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and impeccably dressed in a sharp black suit that fit him like a glove. His eyes were piercing, a shade of steel-gray that made you feel as though he could see right through you.

Damian inclined his head slightly, his smirk deepening. “Likewise,” he replied, his tone smooth yet guarded.

Richard chimed in, his tone casual but loaded with implication. “Luna has a real knack for... making an impression. She’s got a sharp mind. I thought she’d enjoy getting to know some of the brilliant minds here tonight—yourself included, of course.”

You could feel the weight of Damian’s gaze as he studied you, as if trying to determine whether you were worth his time. “Sharp mind, huh?” he said, his smirk never faltering. “And how sharp is that?”

You took a sip of your wine, using the brief moment to steady yourself. “A mind that’s unafraid to get what she wants,” you said, meeting his eyes again. “Sometimes, it takes an outsider to show you how it's done.”

For a fleeting moment, you thought you saw a flicker of interest in Damian’s expression, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Interesting,” he said, his tone noncommittal. “I’ll have to keep an eye out for your... insights.”

With that, he turned his attention back to Richard and the others, his presence as commanding as ever.

Now, hours later, you found yourself in a far more private setting. Richard had steered the two of you to the booth’s secluded lounge area, away from prying eyes and curious ears. The conversation had flowed easily, Richard’s charm and your calculated flirtation creating a bubble of exclusivity.

And then, as the night wore on, things had escalated.

It started with a compliment—a soft-spoken observation about your dress, how it brought out the color in your eyes. Then, a touch: his hand grazing yours as he passed you your glass of wine. And so, you’d taken the mint from your clutch, popped it discreetly, and leaned into the game you’d become so painfully familiar with.

And now, here you were, on your knees in front of him, the plush carpet pressing against your bare legs as you worked to solidify your place in his world.

You couldn’t afford to fail tonight. Not again. This was a means to an end, nothing more. And yet, in the moment, it was impossible to ignore how much you hated—and perhaps secretly reveled in—the way you’d become so adept at this game.

You wrapped your lips around Richard's penis, the softness of his skin a stark contrast to the hardness that pressed against your mouth. The mint had already taken effect, and you could feel its slight numbing sensation spreading through your brain as you worked to make this experience as painless as possible for both of you.

You'd played this game before, always keeping your true intentions hidden behind a mask of seduction and manipulation. It was a delicate dance, one that required precision and control. And you were the maestro, conducting this orchestra with ease.

Richard's eyes closed in ecstasy as he leaned back against the couch, his hands resting on either side of your head. You could feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, the rhythmic motion a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside you.

"Take it to the next level," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I want to fuck you tonight."

You paused, your lips still wrapped around his penis, and looked up at him through narrowed eyes. A sly smile spread across your face as you replied, "Oh, Richard, I don't know if that's such a good idea."

Richard's eyes snapped open, confusion etched on his face. He didn't understand the game you were playing, but he was too far gone to care.

"I want it," he repeated, his voice laced with impatience.

You chuckled, the sound muffled by your mouthful of him. "I'm afraid I'm not quite ready for that just yet, Richard."

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance dancing in their depths. But you stood firm, your resolve unwavering.

As you continued to suck, Richard's hands found their way to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you deeper. You winced inwardly at the touch, your skin crawling beneath his grasp.

You **** yourself to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside the revulsion that threatened to surface. This was all about the performance, not about actual desire or consent. Richard's eyes closed in ecstasy as you sucked harder, his hips rising off the couch to press against your face.

You **** a moan, trying to keep up the act, but it was getting harder by the second. Your mind was racing with thoughts of escape, of finding an excuse to get out of this situation before things escalated further.

But Richard's grip only tightened, his fingers digging into your scalp as he pulled you back in. "Don't pretend like you're not enjoying this," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're just playing hard to get."

His grip was gentle, yet firm, and you felt a shiver run down your spine at the touch. You tried to focus on the sensation, to pretend that this was what you wanted, but it was no use. Your mind was a jumble of conflicting emotions - revulsion, disgust, and a dash of fear.

But you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. You were here for one reason: to satisfy Richard's desires, to make him forget about his troubles and indulge in some much-needed pleasure. And so, you continued to suck, your lips moving up and down with a practiced ease that belied the turmoil inside.

"God, you're so close," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "Just a little further."

You obliged, your mouth opening wider as you slid deeper into the act. The taste of him was... interesting - not unpleasant, exactly, but certainly not something you'd ever care to want to remember. You could feel his eyes on you, boring into your skin like cold, hard weights.

As you sucked, Richard's hands wandered over your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your face and neck. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the touch, but it was nothing compared to the revulsion you'd feel if he ever discovered the truth - that beneath this façade of seduction and desire, you were just **** for escape.

"Harder," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "I want it hard."

You obliged, your mouth opening wider as you slid deeper into the act. You sucked harder still, your lips moving up and down with a frantic energy that belied the calm exterior you'd worked so hard to maintain. It was almost over - just a little further, and it would be done.

As you continued to suck, the sound of his moans filled the air. "Ah... ah... I'm going to..." He paused for a moment, taking control of the situation. "Don't swallow it," he warned, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, pretending to understand, but really, you had no idea what he was talking about. All you knew was that you were in way over your head.

But before you could even process what was happening next, Richard's body tensed up, and a loud moan echoed through the room. You felt his cum shoot into your mouth, hot and sticky, filling your mouth with its salty taste.

You held it all in, trying not to gag or spit it out. But as the seconds ticked by, you couldn't help but wonder what Richard wanted from you now that he'd finally gotten his way.

With a mouth full of cum pooled in your mouth, you felt like you were drowning in a sea of saliva and semen. The taste was overwhelming, cloying, and utterly revolting.

Richard pulled you onto his lap, making you straddle him. His hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer as he leaned in for a kiss. Your mouths intertwined, cum mingling with saliva, lipstick, and the taste of his lips.

The kiss was intense, passionate, and all-consuming. You could feel Richard's body pressing against yours, his hot breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine. His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your face, neck, and shoulders. You felt a mix of revulsion and desire as he explored every inch of you.

His fingers dug into your ass cheeks, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. Your thighs pressed against his hips, the friction sending sparks flying through your veins. His lips were rough on yours but it only seemed to make the sensation more intense.

You felt like you were melting into him, your bodies becoming one as you kissed. The cum from earlier still lingered in your mouth, a bitter taste that only added to the intensity of the moment. You could feel Richard's eyes on yours, boring into your skin like cold, hard weights.

As you kissed, his hands wandered over your breasts, tracing the contours of your nipples. His fingers brushed against the cups of your bra, sending shivers down your spine. You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as he leaned in closer, his lips grazing your ear.

"I want this," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "I need it."

You could feel the tension building between you, like a live wire waiting to spark. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath coming in short gasps. The kiss deepened, becoming more intense as the moments ticked by.

Time lost all meaning as you kissed, your bodies moving in perfect sync. It was like nothing else mattered except for this moment, this feeling of being consumed by each other. Your mouths were a blur of lips and tongues, saliva and cum mixing together in a foul-tasting yet intoxicating cocktail.

The world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you, lost in this sea of desire. You felt like you were drowning, suffocating under the weight of your own emotions.

As the minutes ticked by, the kiss showed no signs of slowing down. It was like you were two machines locked in a perpetual cycle of lust and desire. Your lips moved in perfect sync, cum mingling with saliva, lipstick, and the taste of his lips.

For now, though, you just let go, allowing yourself to be consumed by the moment. The kiss continued, unabated and unrelenting, until...

Until what? You had no idea. All you knew was that you were lost in this sea of desire, with no lifeline in sight.