Chapter 1
In the dim light of the small apartment, Evelyn St. Claire leaned back against the sofa, her form silhouetted against the muted glow of the television screen. She had just stepped away from the confines of her latest performance in the Broadcast Chamber—her skin glistening, the air thick with the tantalizing scent of anticipation. As she stretched, her movements drew a lazy gaze from Dorian Blackwood, who lounged in the corner, a thin plume of smoke curving up from his lips. His eyes, however, rarely left the screen where she played the role of the seductress. He didn’t flinch; his demeanor was one of calm amusement, lacking any hint of surprise. “Like what you see?” she asked, a playful lilt in her voice. She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “Want to give them a squeeze?” Dorian smirked, “Sure. Why don't you dial the feed up to full? Let's see something truly scandalous.” Unbeknownst to Evelyn, the allure of the camera hid the danger lurking just beyond the virtual veil. The world they inhabited through screens—this provocative realm of The Carnal Broadcast Society—thrived on intrigue and peril. But her charming smile disguised the precarious line she was treading, a line she was barely aware existed. Every seductive gesture, every coy invitation, painted her deeper into a world of temptation that seemed to pulse with its own kind of life. Their evening at The Grand Inn began like any other, filled with flashing lights and the thrill of performance. Yet, amidst the glamour, shadows lingered—those of the Watchmen, always lurking, ever watchful. Danger was not just a concept; it was a tangible presence in the back of her mind, like a whisper warning her to tread carefully while she basked in the alluring glow of notoriety. Evelyn stole a glance at Dorian, whose gaze remained fixated on the screen, where her digital persona danced freely. “How far are you willing to go?” he asked suddenly, his tone shifting, as if testing the waters of their uncharted territory. She swirled her drink, the ice clinking against the glass. “What do you mean?” “Open yourself up to the real world—the one where not every glance is wrapped in anonymity. There are those who would love to reach through that screen and pull you in.” A sudden chill ran down her spine. The thrill of performance lost its luster against the stark reality of his words. She held her breath, contemplating her next move, the seductive world she so willingly entered slowly shifting into something less enchanting. Outside, the noise of the city pulsed like a heartbeat, ignorant of the impending storm. In that moment, she realized she was no longer just a performer; she was playing a game with the very fabric of her life—a game that might just entrap her. As the broadcast continued to flicker in the background, Evelyn’s heart raced not just from the thrill of the show, but from the dawning realization that the allure of fame often comes hand-in-hand with danger—a lesson learned too late in the shadows of Kingston's nightlife.
Chapter 2
Evelyn St. Claire (1) [“Just take it off.”] She lifted her chest proudly, her arms circling behind her back to unclasp her bra. As the soft fabric fell away, her full breasts jounced gently, filling the small screen instantly. With a cigarette hanging from his mouth, Dorian Blackwood squinted slightly, his expression betraying no shock or emotion. She hadn’t completely removed the bra; instead, the thick curves of her breasts peeked out, teasingly provocative. “Want to see the whole thing?” she typed slowly, knowing already what his answer would be. Her body was a powerful allure to men, and this had never let her down. He simply replied with a “Yeah,” showing little sign of the arousal she sought to elicit. But she felt confident in her ability to conquer him. “If you want to see something more intimate, it’ll cost you. I think you can afford it, big spender.” Moments later, a payment window popped up on his screen, offering options ranging from $200 to $1,000. To her surprise, he didn’t ask any questions and directly charged $1,000. She smiled to herself, recognizing another wealthy target in her sights. “What’s your name?” was the first question Dorian asked during their chat, which was refreshingly ordinary compared to the racy banter of other users. “Just call me Evelyn St. Claire, big guy,” she responded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was, of course, a pseudonym. “How old are you?” he continued. She proudly thrust out her chest and answered, “70E.” But he wasn’t asking about her measurements; he was referring to her age, keeping things surprisingly serious. “Don’t worry, I’m of age. Feel free to enjoy my body.” “I’m not interested in women over 26,” he responded. “Don’t worry, I’m not even 26 yet,” she winked, hoping to keep him engaged. “All you streamers are usually so young.” “Of course, the younger the better! But some prefer the more mature types, so we have designated areas. Ages 18 to 28 are the ‘Fair Maidens.’” Indeed, this adult platform had two major sections: “The Fair Maiden's Quarter” and “The Deep Red Queen.” Rumor had it there was also a category called “Lolita,” but that one was hidden from view. “Listen to my voice. I can really make some enticing sounds,” she crooned, her sultry tone designed to awaken Dorian’s deepest desires and tempt him to spend more. “I don’t need to hear your voice,” he replied firmly. “Just take it off.” She didn’t hesitate; it was time to fulfill her role. He had already paid $1,000, which meant he was entitled to see everything. Slowly, she lifted her bra higher. Lace enveloped her generous breasts, pressing into the camera frame, nearly unable to contain her ample figure. Her flawless, smooth skin only highlighted her rosy, erect nipples, an irresistible temptation. “How does it look?” she swayed slightly, bringing the enticing curves into motion. “Do you like it?” He didn’t respond; perhaps he was too entranced by the sight. What man wouldn’t be captivated by such luscious beauty? “Do you want to squeeze them?” she teased playfully. Yet, after a moment, there was still no answer. It seemed she had landed a rather shy man, hiding behind the screen, no doubt fantasizing about her in ways he wouldn’t dare to voice.
Chapter 3
Evelyn St. Claire used her small hands to press her ample breasts together, creating an enticing cleavage. On the screen, the sight of her voluptuous chest, pushed together in such a provocative manner, was enough to make any viewer's pulse race. The camera focused on the lush fullness of her body, stimulating the eyes to the extreme. "Do you want to play with me like this...ah..." Evelyn moaned softly, as her delicate fingers pinched her hardened nipples, molding her breasts into various shameful shapes. Her low moans were intended to make the performance more real and seductive. She thought to herself that he would definitely regret not taking this chance. Her enticing gasps were an added bonus just for him. "Are your hands big enough to hold my chest?" "I want you to squeeze my breasts while you penetrate my...ah...my spot is already so wet... come and feel it." "Enough, take it off." The man's voice was always so curt, making her feel like she was following commands, not engaging in a chat. But it didn't matter, as long as she completed the task. Whatever the client wanted, she would deliver. On the screen, she pushed back the chair and turned around. Her firm, perky buttocks were tightly squeezed by her small panties. Evelyn gently slapped her own butt, making it jiggle, and pulled the sides apart slightly, the lace just barely covering her cleft, creating a highly stimulating visual for the viewer. He took a deep drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly, the smoke creating a hazy screen through which he viewed the erotic image, giving it an almost artistic quality. "Not just your butt, I want to see your whole body." So, she didn't rush to take off her panties but slowly stepped back until her entire frame, from collarbone to hips, was in full view. Though she was noticeably slim, it was obvious from her shapely limbs, yet her chest and butt were incredibly full. This type of physique undoubtedly required serious dedication to fitness, as her flat stomach showed faint muscle lines. "Your face," he demanded. However, this request felt excessive to her. After all, anyone in this line of work had some sense of self-preservation. But she couldn't say that outright for fear of offending him. "My looks are quite average; my body is much more attractive. Besides, for you men, aren't the private parts the most 'beautiful'? Don't you want to see my pretty pink... I'm still a virgin." Her words were shamelessly provocative, but was this her true self? "But I'm only interested in beautiful bodies," he threw her a curveball, making her momentarily stuck, rapidly thinking of how to respond. He leaned back lazily in his chair, his muscular legs casually crossed, clearly ready to play her game for as long as it took. "If you’re not interested in me, I’d be heartbroken. Big brother, would you really make me sad?" she cooed, trying to elicit his pity. He easily saw through her ploy, deliberately making things difficult. "If you're too ugly to show, I won't bother looking at your body. Refund." Talk of a refund was the prelude to a dispute, which could ruin her business. She coaxed him sweetly, "I'll show you in a few days, okay? Lately, I’ve been crying every day because of a breakup, my eyes are as swollen as walnuts. Next time, when you pick me, I promise to show my face, deal?" It was a delaying tactic, and she hoped to make a regular out of him, crafty girl. The man smirked slightly, his eyes deep and unreadable. "Come on, big brother, let me show you something even more risqué."
Chapter 4
To divert his attention, she pulled out a chair and repositioned herself, adjusting the camera to focus between her legs. Black lace barely concealed her private parts, hinting at what lay beneath in a way more tantalizing than complete nudity. She squeezed her thighs together, fingers slipping under the fabric, teasing herself. The pressure caused her outer lips to bulge, visible through the lace, forming an inviting silhouette. "Do you find this beautiful?" She teased. "It's alright." His lackluster response left her feeling unaccomplished. "What's that supposed to mean? Above average?" He remained silent. She spread her legs wider, the small piece of fabric unable to hide her full, tender lips, which were pushing out smoothly like those of a young, inexperienced girl—reportedly, just what men liked. "Take a good look and tell me, isn't it tender? Isn't it inviting?" She opened her legs further, revealing her inner lips, the soft, inviting pink parting with subtle movements, glistening with moisture, radiating a raw, lustful allure. The combination of purity and eroticism was potent. She gently inserted her glistening finger inside, biting her lip with a weak "ah," and said, "Want to know just how tight I am?" One had to admit, as a professional erotic streamer, she had perfected her craft. An average man would be consumed by desire, yearning to ravage her. A strange heat built within Sir Alaric White, but he controlled it with impressive restraint, furrowing his brow. "Turn around," he commanded. "Don’t you like it?" she pretended to be fearful. "How about I pleasure myself and let you watch? Don’t be angry or hasty..." He closed his eyes, still frowning, taking a deep breath, his Adam's apple moving heavily. "Obey me. Do as I say." "Turn around," he repeated. Reluctantly, she replied, "Alright..." Holding onto the table, her panties still low around her thighs, she turned as he instructed. Her bountiful breasts and soft, smooth vagina were finally out of view of the camera. "So, you like this angle. You must also love it from behind." "Now, adjust the screen, make it larger. You’ll get a clearer view." Her impressive flexibility allowed her to bend fully forward, her bottom raised high—an enticing sight for any man. From behind, her exquisite figure revealed her lips nestled like a tender oyster. Imagining entering her, thrusting deep and seeing juices flowing abundantly was enough to drive any man wild. She began caressing herself for his viewing pleasure, letting him see her fingers sliding in and out of the slick, inviting folds, juices coating her fingers, stretching out in sticky filaments. "Take your pants off; let me see how big your treasure is. Can it fill my little mouth?" Her brazen boldness was audacious, to say the least. If she knew his true identity, it might scare her senseless.
Chapter 5
Dorian Blackwood studied every inch of her skin meticulously. He noticed a tiny red mole on the inside of her left thigh. He stared at it for a moment before speaking again. "Move closer, spread your legs wider." She obediently followed his instructions, positioning herself with her buttocks closer to the camera. "It’s so wet and itchy here, I need your tongue to help me out," she teased, her voice dripping with sultry charm. She wasn't sure if her dirty talk was affecting him, but she figured that since he asked to see her intimate parts, he must be captivated. Using her fingertips, she lightly rubbed her tight entrance, moaning wantonly. "You're probably rock hard right now. Want more? Just pay up, and I’ll use my toy for you to see." The payment screen popped up again, each price linked to a different service. "I’m sensitive and can squirt; it’ll be all wet for you to play with," she cooed. "Or, you can choose a toy, and I'll use it for you." Selena Bright's continuous teasing was making it hard for him to concentrate. Damn, this woman was like a siren. Dorian Blackwood furrowed his brows, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, trying to avoid looking between her legs. She must be young, no more than twenty-five, about five-foot-five, weighing around a hundred pounds. She might not be outrightly stunning, but she certainly had a pure and delicate look, the kind that doesn't suggest her line of work. She probably had short hair, not longer than her shoulders, possibly colored. She was slightly nearsighted but likely didn't like wearing glasses. She would never guess that the man on the other end of the internet stream was so perceptive, almost all his guesses were spot-on. To entice the man into paying more, she adjusted the camera to show between her legs. "Big brother, keep your eyes wide open and watch closely; I'm about to insert it. Be prepared for some splashing," she purred. Her dripping wetness came closer to the camera, her most intimate area directly aimed at his eyes through the screen... "Boss, got any clues?" The door suddenly swung open, and an officer walked in. Simultaneously, the computer screen flicked to black with a "beep," erasing all visuals immediately. Dorian Blackwood remained unmoved, his gaze still fixed on the screen. His voice was low and rumbling, "How many times do I have to tell you to knock before coming in?" The assistant scratched his head sheepishly. "Sorry, I forgot again." He noticed the boss seemed to be in a low mood. Watching these livestreams should be fun, a perk of dealing with the case. Was he upset because of the interruption? Glancing at Dorian’s crotch curiously, he couldn't tell if there had been any reaction. Judging by the voice alone, the boss seemed unaffected. Before he could ponder further, Dorian changed the subject. "Did the tech team locate their network usage?" "Yeah, these slippery bastards masked their location with a layer of misdirection. After our guys cracked it, we found it led to a cyber café. But, of course, this kind of livestream can’t be run from a public place like that. It was just another distraction." Dorian flicked the ash from his cigarette. "It’s in the nearby apartment buildings." "We checked thoroughly, but found no suspicious characters, not a single one." "Boss, I think it’s tough to crack from a technical standpoint. They’ve got deep pockets, constantly changing servers and hosting them abroad, tracing is futile—we need to catch these sluts in the act. Think you can pinpoint her if you watch enough of the footage?" "Not quite," he muttered, his voice steady as ever. "We need more sessions." The assistant observed Dorian for a moment, then chuckled, "You’re not getting addicted to this, are you, boss?" He nudged him playfully, grinning. Dorian turned his head slowly to look at him, his gaze so cold it sent chills down the assistant's spine, silencing him instantly. Another officer entered, having overheard the conversation. "Come on, Dorian’s not interested in women. Watching these streams a hundred times won't make a difference, certainly won't get him hooked." It was a playful jab at Dorian's stoic nature; despite several prized beauties in the department having a soft spot for him, he always seemed unbothered, his focus solely on his work. Eventually, the women kept their distance out of respect. Over at her end, Evelyn St. Claire stared at the blank screen, her instincts telling her the disconnect wasn't accidental but rather him cutting the feed. How odd, she thought. She cleaned her hands and adjusted her panties. She had made $2000 in less than half an hour; though she only got half of it, it was still quite a sum. She had earned enough for today.
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