Edging the edgelord

No.

Enough was enough.

There was a line I wouldn’t be able to uncross.

It had to stop.

It had to stop now.

Before it was too late.

I forcefully took my eyes off the writhing goth queen, and dove for the phone.

I scrambled behind the laundry pile where it had landed, and my fingers closed around the rectangle-shaped object like a lifeline.

A quick check.

Thank Christ.

It was still in working condition.

I heard Jennifer shift on the bed behind me, the cables creaking against the bedposts.

"Oh, wonderful," she said, suddenly able to speak again. "You're gonna take photos, aren't you? Of course you are. That's exactly the kind of pathetic shit a guy like you would do."

I considered explaining that I wasn’t going to do that, but she was already continuing.

"Go ahead, you fucking creep," she spat, her voice wavering between fury and something breathier. "Get your little blackmail folder started. I bet you've got a whole folder already named, don't you? I bet it’s something embarrassing like 'a hot Goth Girl babe ALL tied up and… and… and vulnerable!'."

I ignored her, swiping through the app with shaking fingers.

Her profile was right there.

Jennifer Whatley.

All her stats.

All her hearts.

The DELETE PROFILE button sat at the very bottom of the screen like a red emergency switch.

"Make sure you get my good side," she called out, and I could hear the bed frame rattle as she arched her back. "If you're going to exploit me, at least make it flattering."

She sounded different now.

Huskier.

Wetter.

I wasn’t stupid.

The idea of me exploiting her like this was clearly starting to turn her on.

Corruption 3, ladies and gentlemen.

My thumb hovered over the delete button.

One tap.

One single tap and the only person I had to focus on was Sandy.

Jennifer Whatley would be free.

She would go back to her normal goth life, with her normal goth brain, to her normal goth...

Wait.

It wouldn’t be that simple.

There was still the one enormously important question I didn’t know the answer to.

What happened when I deleted her profile?

Would she lose the effects of the app?

And did the effects fade gradually?

Over days, weeks?

Or did they vanish instantly?

If every ounce of artificial obedience and corruption just evaporated in a single second...

Jennifer would wake up.

She would find herself tied to a stranger's bed in a filthy apartment.’

And then…

There was a real possibility she might scream.

She might scream so loud the entire building would hear her.

And when the cops arrived, they would find a terrified woman bound with computer cables in the apartment of a man she'd describe as "some creep from a gas station."

I would go to jail.

My thumb retreated from the button.

Okay.

New plan.

Maybe…

Maybe I should just untie her?

And then get her out of the apartment.

Then delete the profile from a safe distance.

Let whatever withdrawal happened to her happen far, far away from me and this very compromising situation.

I shoved the phone back in my pocket and stood up.

Jennifer was watching me with those intense, smoldering eyes, her chest heaving inside her corset, her spread thighs glistening with arousal.

"Jennifer," I said softly, walking toward the bed. "Listen to me. I... I didn't mean for this to happen, okay? This whole thing... it went too far. I think it's better if I just untie you and you go home."

Her expression shifted.

The lust drained from her face, replaced by something raw and wounded.

"What?" she whispered.

"I think we should stop. All of this. Whatever this is between us. It's not... healthy. For either of us."

Her jaw tightened. Her lower lip trembled.

"Are you... are you breaking up with me?"

The question felt odd.

It’s not like we were ever officially “dating”.

This whole thing was just a series of… sexual events.

"Um… I didn’t realize we were dating?"

That was the wrong thing to say.

Her eyes filled with tears so suddenly it was like someone had turned on a faucet.

"How can you say that?" she choked, her voice cracking. "After everything? After the park? The coffee shop? The fucking bathroom sink?"

"Jennifer, please, just calm d-"

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down!" she screamed, yanking against the cables. The bedframe groaned violently. "You tied me to your disgusting bed and now you're dumping me?! What kind of psychopath are you?!"

"I'm trying to do the right th-"

"I'll burn this shithole apartment to the ground!" she shrieked, thrashing wildly. "I'll set fire to every piece of your sad little nerd-cave! Starting with that fucking gaming chair!"

"Jennifer, please keep your voice d-"

"Maybe I'll go back to Damian! At least he had the balls to commit! And maybe I should get him here to kick your ass again!"

She was getting louder. Way, way louder.

Her screams were bouncing off the thin walls of my cheap apartment like pinballs.

My neighbors could absolutely hear this.

"Jennifer, seriously, you need to-"

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME! I'M BEING-"

My hand clamped over her mouth.

Hard. Fast. Desperate.

Her scream died instantly, muffled into a hot, wet vibration against my palm.

Her eyes went wide above my fingers, tears still streaming down her flushed cheeks.

And then... I felt it.

The shift.

The same one as in the park.

The same one as five minutes ago when I caught her wrist.

Her pupils exploded wide.

Her breathing went from panicked gasps to deep, shuddering inhales through her nose.

Her nostrils flared with heat.

Her mouth radiated warmth like a furnace.

And between her spread legs, I could feel the temperature spike.

I could practically sense her cunt pulsing with fresh arousal beneath the thin black fabric.

…She was doing this on purpose, wasn’t she?

All of it.

The screaming, the threats, the tears.

She was pushing me, provoking me, engineering the exact scenario where I had no choice but to dominate her into silence.

Or she was just genuinely unhinged.

Honestly, I wasn't sure which option was scarier.

Either way, I was trapped.

I couldn't delete her profile.

I couldn't let her go.

The only path forward was through.

I had to finish this fucking event.

My eyes scanned the room, searching for something to keep her quiet.

A proper gag.

And fuck, if I was actually going through with this…

I might as well make it something fun.

And I knew exactly what I wanted to stuff down her mouth.

My gaze landed on a pair of scissors sitting on my desk, half-buried under a stack of old receipts.

I grabbed them with my free hand.

Jennifer's eyes tracked the scissors, widening even further.

I brought the open blades down to her hip.

She squirmed, a muffled whine vibrating against my palm.

I hooked the lower blade under the waistband of her soaked black panties and squeezed.

Snip.

The elastic parted like butter.

I cut the other side with a second precise snip.

Jennifer bucked her hips, putting on her usual theatrical resistance, her body writhing against the cables in a performance so unconvincing it would get booed off any stage.

I peeled the ruined fabric away from her crotch.

Her pussy was fully exposed now.

Swollen, flushed a deep pink, glistening with thick, clear slick that had soaked completely through the cotton.

The panties themselves were absolutely drenched.

Heavy with her arousal, warm and fragrant in my hand.

I slowly removed my hand from her lips.

Before she could draw breath to scream, I shoved the wadded, soaking panties directly into her open mouth.

Her eyes bulged.

A choked, gurgling sound erupted from her stuffed throat.

"Maybe," I said, my voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that I was starting to enjoy way too much, "the taste of your own needy cunt will finally shut you up."

Her nostrils flared wildly, sucking in air. Her tongue pushed against the wet fabric, tasting herself, her own thick, musky arousal flooding her mouth.

Before she could work them out with her tongue, I spotted a roll of duct tape on my cluttered shelf.

I grabbed it, tore off a long strip, and pressed it firmly across her lips, sealing the panties inside.

She screamed into the gag.

The sound came out as a pitiful, muffled whimper.

Perfect.

My cock was starting to get over the panic I had just experienced, and was slowly growing harder and harder.

She wanted to get dominated so badly?

Then let’s show her what that actually means.

I picked up the scissors again.

Her corset was next.

I worked the blades under the tight black fabric between her tits, the metal cold against her flushed, heaving skin.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

The corset split open like a chrysalis, her massive, pale breasts spilling free, bouncing heavily against her ribcage.

Her nipples were rock-hard, dark pink and swollen, standing at rigid attention in the cool air.

Jennifer made a sharp, annoyed sound through the gag.

Her eyes darted to the ruined corset with genuine irritation.

That thing was probably expensive.

Tough shit.

The plaid miniskirt went next. Two cuts and it fell away at her sides.

Then the fishnets. I shredded them methodically, cutting them off her legs in long, tattered strips while she wriggled and grunted.

In less than a minute, Jennifer Whatley was completely, utterly naked.

Every inch of her pale, gorgeous body was on display.

Tied spread-eagle to my bed with computer cables, her mouth stuffed with her own soaked panties and sealed with tape.

She was breathing hard through her nose, her massive tits rising and falling rapidly, her fully exposed pussy clenching visibly around nothing, drooling a long, clear string of arousal onto my sheets.

I stood over her, drinking in the sight.

Then I unbuckled my belt.

Her eyes locked onto my hands.

I pulled my jeans down just enough to free my cock.

It sprang out, thick and throbbing, the head already slick with precum.

I leaned forward, resting my shaft against her cheek.

The heat of her flushed skin against my sensitive cock nearly made me groan.

"Is this what you want?" I asked, pressing it gently against her gagged lips.

She nodded.

Slowly.

Faking reluctance.

Her eyes burning with need.

And then…

I pulled back.

Tucked my cock back into my jeans. Buckled my belt.

Jennifer's eyes went so wide I thought they might fall out of her skull.

A furious, desperate, agonized scream erupted from behind the gag.

Muffled, pathetic, completely impotent.

"You can't manipulate my dick into you," I told her, my voice cold and steady. "You're going to have to ask for it. Very, very nicely."

I grabbed my jacket from the back of the gaming chair.

"And you can do that... when I get back. Because I was just about to take my evening walk when you so rudely interrupted me."

The sound that came from behind the duct tape was inhuman.

A guttural, primal howl of sexual frustration and pure, undiluted rage, muffled into a pathetic, buzzing whine by her own soaked panties.

I walked to the door.

Opened it.

Stepped into the hallway.

Closed it behind me.

I stood there, in the quiet corridor, my heart slamming against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

There was a naked, tied-up, gagged woman in my apartment.

A woman who wanted me to fuck her so badly she was literally screaming into her own underwear.

And I had just... walked away.

To take a stroll.

I leaned against the wall, pressing my forehead to the cool plaster.

A slow, incredulous grin spread across my battered face.

I couldn't believe I just did that.

I couldn't believe how much I enjoyed doing that.

---

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