End of the plan

You're so comfortable in the chair with Anne sitting on your lap and hugging you with your head resting just above her breasts that you feel sleepy. You're not sure exactly how long it has been, but it has to be at least a couple of hours since Colby first arrived and even all except 1 of the paparazzi is still outside. On the bed nearby, Amber and Colby have just dozed off with her on top of him and his cock still inside her. The sex following the first time only got wilder and rougher as Amber used Colby like a sex toy, only allowing him a few minutes to be on top when she was catching her breath, before she took over again. At times, she was screaming and moaning so loudly that you're sure anyone walking by in the street outside would be able to hear and you're slightly surprised nobody has called the police.

When the last photographer outside puts his camera away and leaves, you decide that you've seen enough. Actually, you didn't have to stay for the entire time, but Anne seemed really intent on watching her **** play out and it's not like you have somewhere to be. You give Anne a nudge and she gets off you and the 2 of you stand up and stretch your arms and legs after all the sitting. You also have a semi-erection after the sex show Amber had put on unknowingly and you're thinking about what to do with it when Anne waves at you and points at the nightstand beside Amber's bed.

You go over to join Anne to see what she's pointing at. With all the sexual activity happening on the bed, the drawers on the nightstand had been knocked open and the 2nd drawer is sticking out enough that you can see some of the contents in it. You quickly see what's got Anne's attention. In the 2nd drawer, there are a bunch of similar flash drives as the 1 that Amber had brought you earlier with Anne's initial on it. At first, you're shocked that Amber was somehow able to lie to you about there being other copies of Anne's compromising pictures while under your mind control, but as you quietly go through the flash drives, you realize they each have different labels on them. There are dozens of flash drives.

"Holy shit, do you think she has stuff on other people as well?" Anne whispers to you.

You nod slowly. "You said she has a paparazzi friend, right? If he had something on you, he probably had more."

"Wonder why he didn't just sell them to a magazine."

"Beats me," you shrug.

"What should we do?" Anne asks.