Day 7: Chloe (Meeting Her At Last)

The walk to the studio felt longer than it was. You weren’t nervous, exactly. Not in the way you’d been with Kailani. This wasn’t anticipation. It was something tighter. Like stepping onto a stage where the script hadn’t been written, but the spotlight was already hot on your back.

The studio was quiet when you arrived. Cassie and Kailani had done well with what used to be a glorified storage unit—foam paneling on the walls, a desk with a heavy-duty editing rig, a wall-mounted flatscreen, and dead center in the space, a four-poster bed set for lighting. You'd seen it all last week. Except for a heavy chair which had been pulled forward, padded arms wide, like it knew what was coming. A ring light hummed overhead.

And Chloe was already there.

She leaned against the counter by the computer, arms folded, one hip cocked with casual precision. Tank top. Designer shorts. Hair pulled up. Her makeup was impeccable, but you already knew she was going to use your footage for her OnlyFans. No entourage. Just presence.

Kailani was with her too, more relaxed, but also ready to support Chloe should she need. She gave you a look which said a lot. It wasn't that she didn't trust you - she would never have talking to Chloe if she'd had doubts - but that she was there for her friend to feel safe.

She looked at you flatly as you entered.

“I hear you want to fuck me,” she said.

You blinked. “That’s... one way to open.”

She stepped forward slowly, expression unreadable.

“On camera,” she added. “For some frat-boy game.”

You resisted the urge to defend yourself. Barely.

“I’m not here to trick or pressure you,” you said. “But yeah. The game’s part of it. I’m just following where the card draw took me.”

There was a long pause. Then she shrugged, almost too casually.

“Fine. I agreed. Doesn’t mean I think it’s not bullshit.” She moved toward the bed, picked up a bottle of water, took a swig, then turned back to you. “I’ll do it. But only if it’s by my rules.”

“I understand.”

She eyed you for a moment, then tilted her head slightly. “Do you remember what Kailani told you?”

You nodded. “I do.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Good. Say it back.”

You straightened slightly. “I follow your lead. No touching unless directed. No speaking unless spoken to. If you stop, it’s over, no questions. This is your scene, not mine.”

A flicker of approval crossed her face—just barely. “Kailani wasn’t wrong about you.”

She circled around you, slow and deliberate, like she was sizing you up for furniture. When she stopped in front of the chair, she spoke again.

“I need you to disappear.”

You looked at her in confusion. Why even let you come if she was just going to ask you to leave again? She pressed on, explaining what she meant.

“No looking for connection. No needing to be good. No trying to be liked. You’re not the fantasy. You’re the part of it I control. Can you handle that?”

You hesitated. Not because you doubted her—but because you felt the edge of it. The precision. The wall she was building between you. Why did she need that level of detachment?

You didn’t ask. Just nodded slowly. “Yeah. I can do that.”

She met your eyes, held them a moment longer, then turned to a nearby bag and pulled out a coil of soft rope.

“You're going to strip,” she said simply. “I'm going to tie you to that chair. That's where I fuck your dick.”

Not, 'fuck you,' you noticed, but 'fuck your dick.' You really weren't going to exist for her as a person, just a sex toy.

You paused. You couldn’t not. Not after last week.

Being locked in stocks while Kailani played to the camera had been hot, sure. Wild even. But this was different. Chloe didn’t radiate chaos—she radiated control. There was no spark of shared heat here. Just terms. Structure. Intent.

She saw the flicker in your expression.

“I can’t let you have any control,” she said, her voice lower now. Not defensive. Just tired. “Not after what my friend tried.”

You didn’t move. “Friend?”

“Well, I thought he was. I was fucking wrong about that! He didn’t listen when I told him I was a lesbian,” she said, not blinking. “Didn’t stop when I said no. Got grabby. Thought he could change me.”

You exhaled. “Jesus. I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders were tense, but not rigid. She nodded once.

“If tying me down helps you feel safe,” you said quietly, “then tie away. I’m good with it.”

You offered a small smile. “Actually… it kind of works in my favor. I’ve got a BDSM challenge card. Wasn’t sure when I was gonna play it.”

That earned the tiniest spark of surprise—and a soft huff of laughter.

“You’ve got a card for that?” she asked. “What, is there one for foot rubs and sexting too?”

“Not that I’ve seen. But the deck’s weird. It had public sex, handjobs, anal... If they ever add a lesbian version, your fans would probably riot.”

That coaxed a grin. “Yeah. ‘Scissor me timbers’ and all that.”

You chuckled with her—low, cautious. The ice didn’t melt, exactly, but something shifted.

She eyed you again. “Problem with a game like that though is someone is always gonna cross the line.”

“Yeah. Zeke did,” you said. “Midweek. Tried to take on a faculty member.”

Chloe blinked. “He what?”

“Tried to dom her or something. Wouldn’t take no.”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “Who was it?”

“Dr. Selene Ravensmoor.”

There was a beat. Then Chloe let out a loud, incredulous laugh.

“Oh my God. he tried it with Selene? She’s had a black belt since childhood. She taught a self-defense workshop I went to last year.”

You grinned. “Would’ve served him right if she snapped his wrist.”

“She should’ve. But no, she’s the kind to aim low and call the cops. Always said the best self-defense is the one that ends with you sipping tea while someone else files the paperwork.”

“She took him down,” you said. “But even if she hadn’t? The rest of us would’ve bounced him into orbit. There are a lot of weird lines in this game, but ignoring consent isn’t one of them.”

Chloe nodded slowly. “I'll take your word for it. Doesn't change how we do this though.”

She turned toward the chair, then back to you.

“Alright,” she said, voice still cool, but no longer distant. “If you’re still down for this… strip off and take a seat.”