The Day I Crossed the Line

© SpeciaRotica 2025. All Rights Reserved.

Continued from Chapter 2...

Today I had gone out for a quick errand, picking up a few household essentials. Also, I had other things on my mind things that had been stirring inside her ever since the past few days.

Meanwhile, miles away, Ethan was in a completely different world.

He sat in his luxury hotel suite, dressed in nothing but his expensive black underwear, leaning back in a leather chair. His tie hung loosely around his neck; his body relaxed but his mind? Focused.

And all of it? On Lana.

She stood near the minibar, effortlessly seductive. A tight black dress hugged every inch of her body, the plunging neckline daring his eyes to wander. The slit in the fabric ran dangerously high, teasing smooth, golden skin.

She took a slow sip of her wine, swirling it in the glass, ignoring him.

Ethan smirked, running his fingers over the rim of his glass, watching her with hungry eyes.

"Hey, Lana," he murmured, his voice dripping with confidence. "We're alone here... maybe we should do something about that."

Lana didn't react.

Ethan chuckled, leaning forward. "Come on, don't act like you haven't thought about it. You're standing there, looking like that, and I'm right here. We could u..."

Before he could finish, Lana turned, grabbed his tie, and yanked him forward.

Ethan's breath caught as her lips nearly brushed his.

For a second, he thought he had won.

Until her voice slithered into his ear mocking, cruel and devastating.

"You? With me?" She let out a soft, wicked laugh. "Ethan, you have no idea what it takes to handle a woman like me. And let's be real you don't fucking have it. You never did."

His smirk wavered.

Lana pulled back slightly, her nails grazing over his chest. "You're just a sad silly little office boy, kissing your boss's ass just to survive. Pathetic."

Ethan stiffened.

"You think I don't see it?" she whispered, tilting her head. "The way you beg for validation? The way you try so hard to act powerful when deep down... you're just a desperate little worm."

Ethan's jaw clenched. "That's not true La..."

"Oh, but it is," Lana cooed, pressing a manicured nail against his chest. "You're weak, Ethan. And weak men... don't get women like me."

She let go of his tie and stepped back, watching as the humiliation sank in.

Ethan's hands balled into fists.

"You're a cruel little bitch Lana," he spat, trying to regain control. "You act all high and mighty, but deep down, you're just like every other woman, a fucking slut."

Lana laughed.

She actually laughed in his face.

"That's fucking cute," she mused, sipping her wine. "Tell me, Ethan, does your wife know what a pathetic little loser you are? Or is she just as blind as your bosses?"

That hit hard.

Ethan shot up from his chair, his face twisted in anger, but before he could speak...

Lana rolled her eyes and turned away.

"Ugh," she groaned, walking toward the door. "I'm wasting my fucking time here."

She reached for the handle, ready to leave.

But that's when Ethan snapped.

Before Lana could step out, Ethan dropped to his knees.

He crawled after her, grabbing her by the ankle.

"Lana, please," he begged, pressing his lips against her smooth, toned leg. "Don't leave. Give me a chance. I'll do anything. Anything."

Lana raised a brow, looking down at him like he was dirt beneath her heels.

Ethan clung to her, his voice breaking, his face pressed against her skin.

"You can have me however you want," he pleaded, his hands trembling as they trailed up her calf. "I'll be your fucking slave. You can do anything to me, just let me prove myself."

Lana smirked, enjoying the sight of a grown man grovelling at her feet.

She lifted her foot slightly and then shoved him away.

Ethan fell back onto the floor, panting, desperate.

Lana exhaled dramatically. "Wow. That was embarrassing."

She flicked her hair over her shoulder, stepping back. The power she had over him was intoxicating.

Ethan watched her, shaking, broken but something dark glowed in his eyes.

Lana noticed it instantly.

He wasn't giving up or broken. He was just obsessed.

Lana sighed and crossed her arms. "You want a chance, Ethan?"

His breath hitched.

She leaned down, brushing a finger under his chin. "Then I guess you'll need to start with a divorce."

Ethan's face twisted in shock.

Lana turned, gripping the door handle. But before she walked out, she cast one final, brutal blow.

"Now get back to work, sweetheart." Her voice dripped with cruel amusement. "I'll go butter them up so you can keep licking."

She left, closing the door behind her. Ethan sat there, still on the floor, his chest rising and falling.

But he wasn't humiliated anymore nor he was thrilled.

His lips curled into a slow, dark grin. His hands twitched against the floor, his heart pounding with pure, sick pleasure. "Divorce, huh?" he murmured to himself, licking his lips.

"Lana, I'll fucking get you no matter what and then you will see my game you little bitch," He murmured in anger.

(Ethan's pathetic moment ends here.)

While Ethan was chasing after a fantasy, I was about to walk straight into mine.

Well, I was at the shopping mall. The mall was alive with noise and movement.

Couples strolled hand-in-hand, neon lights flickered from storefronts, the scent of coffee, warm bread, and expensive perfume mingled in the air.

Yet, as I walked, I felt it. A presence, a pull. Like someone was watching me.

Not just watching. Studying. I wasn't wrong. I turned my head, and there he was.

Leaning against the sleek glass railing of the second floor, arms crossed, smirking like he already knew my secrets.

Who the fuck is this?

I kept walking. Past the boutique. Past the jewellery store. Past the perfume counter.

But I felt him following. Not physically but with his eyes. Then, as I reached the escalator, he made his move.

"Well, well, look who is here, the goddess herself in a flesh." a smooth voice purred behind me.

I froze. Not because I was scared. But because that voice did something to me.

Slowly, I turned. He was close now. Too close.

Tall, confident, dressed in dark, expensive clothing that clung to him in all the right places.

Sharp jawline. Eyes that held amusement maybe not, something more. Something hungry.

My pulse spiked. "Are you lost?" I asked, keeping my voice cool, even.

His smirk deepened.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly along the glass railing beside us.

"You know exactly who you are, don't you?"

I frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He tilted his head, amused. Like he was savouring this moment.

Then, he pulled out his phone. Tapped the screen. Turned it toward me. And my world shifted. My own face stared back at me.

Not just my face. My body. My moans. My pleasure, captured in high-definition, displayed like a work of art.

At the top of the screen, in bold, taunting letters:

"THE GODDESS - The Woman Who Can Take It All"

1.3 million views.

252K likes.

Thousands of comments, endless worship, endless hunger.

My breath caught, shock or fear.

But because deep inside, beneath the chaos, beneath the confusion, beneath the guilt there was something else.

Pride. A slow, dangerous, twisted thrill. My fingers curled at my sides.

"Who uploaded this?" I whispered. His lips twitched.

"You already know who," he murmured.

Jason. That Motherfucker.

I barely noticed when he stepped closer.

The mall was still loud, full of people. Yet, at that moment, it felt like there was only the two of us.

"You don't have to look so surprised," he said, voice like silk, like smoke, like sin.

His fingers dipped into his pocket, pulling out a small black card. But he didn't just hand it to me.

No. He reached forward slowly, deliberately and slipped it between my cleavage.

His fingertips barely grazing the swell of my breasts. My breath hitched.

The move was bold, calculated.

A test. How far would I let him go? His touch was light as a whisper, but it burned.

And I? I didn't stop him or pull away.

Because for the first time in my life...I had nothing to lose.

His lips brushed against my ear.

"Meet me," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. "When you're ready."

He stepped back, watching me carefully. "You don't have to answer now," he said, "but I know you will."

I exhaled slowly; heartbeat unsteady.

My fingers grazed the black card, still tucked between my breasts. I should've ripped it out or thrown it back in his face. But I didn't.

Instead, my eyes flickered downward, reading the gold lettering on the card:

THE UNDERGROUND.

PRIVATE. EXCLUSIVE. INVITE-ONLY.

BDSM | POWER | CONTROL | PLEASURE.

I swallowed hard.

He saw it, my hesitation, and also my curiosity.

His smirk widened. "We'll make you the top," he murmured, "as long as you have that beautiful body and face."

A slow burn coiled in my stomach. I felt it creeping in. Lust. Hunger. The need to take control.

"You don't know anything about me," I said, my voice softer than I intended.

He chuckled. "Oh, sweetheart," he whispered. "I know everything."

Well, He was gone before I could say another word. Vanishing into the crowd like he was never there.

Like he had just left a mark on my skin without ever touching me. I stood there, breathing heavily, fingers still grazing the black card.

I should've felt ashamed and angry.

Instead, all I could think about was Jason.

That bastard uploaded me, made me famous. But he was making money off me.

And if there was one thing I knew for sure? I wasn't about to let him keep all of it.

And now? I wanted answers.

That afternoon.

The workers' temporary cottages were eerily quiet.

Usually, I could hear their voices, their laughter, their footsteps.

But today? Nothing.

I walked toward the main entrance, expecting to see at least a few of them packing up.

But the moment I stepped inside I knew. They were gone.

My brows furrowed. What the fuck?

I turned, only to find Jason leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking like he already knew what I was thinking.

"You're a little late, sweetheart," he drawled.

I narrowed my eyes. "Where is everyone?"

Jason shrugged. "Gone," he said. "Three weeks of work, remember? They all left this morning."

I blinked. Everyone.

Every single one of them was already gone. Except for him.

Jason. The one man I actually came looking for.

"Well, well," he murmured, setting his phone down. "Look who finally decided to visit her biggest fan."

I ignored the bait.

"Give them to me."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Be more specific, sweetheart. I have a lot of things you might want."

My jaw clenched.

"Everything," I said, stepping forward. "The pictures. The videos. The negatives. The camera. Every single copy."

Jason tilted his head, studying me.

His lips curled. "Well, aren't you ambitious," he said, standing up slowly.

"And why would I do that?" I didn't flinch. "Because you owe me."

Jason exhaled through his nose. Then he laughed. A slow, low, dark sound.

"That's cute," he said. "You think I did something bad, don't you?"

I stared at him.

"You uploaded me without asking. And now, I have a million people watching me fuck on camera. What exactly am I supposed to thank you for, Jason?"

His smirk didn't fade.

He stepped closer. "You don't get it," he murmured. "Helen, you're not some random porn video. You're a fucking phenomenon. You think I leaked this to humiliate you?"

I stayed silent.

Jason chuckled. "People worship you," he continued. "You don't understand how rare that is. It's not just your body, sweetheart. It's the way you move, the way you fuck like you were born for it."

His voice dropped lower, huskier. "Like you own every second of it."

Something inside me was listening.

Then, Jason reached behind his couch and pulled out a black duffel bag.

He tossed it onto the coffee table, the heavy thud of camera equipment and hard drives filling the air.

I stared.

"You want them?" Jason said, crossing his arms. "Take them."

I didn't move. Jason smirked. "But deleting them?" he continued. "That's up to you."

A long pause. Then, he tilted his head. And said something I would never forget.

Jason leaned in, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of sweat and cologne.

"You can erase it," he murmured.

"Go back to your boring little life. Pretend none of this happened. Lock yourself away in that house, let Harris fuck you in missionary for the rest of your life, and die as a good, obedient wife."

I exhaled slowly.

Jason's lips twitched. "Or," he continued, his voice like sin, like smoke, like temptation.

"You can keep it." He ran a slow, lazy hand down my arm.

"Do something with it." His fingers brushed against my wrist, then down to lower.

Not enough to touch me. Just enough to make me aware of how much he wanted to.

"You're a goddess now, Helen," he whispered.

"You can either be caged, or you can be worshipped."

Jason smirked. "I know what you'll choose," he murmured.

Then, he stepped back. And with a slow, deliberate motion. He grabbed my ass, squeezed, and walked out the door.

By the time I got home, Harris was packing. I leaned against the doorframe, watching him button up his shirt.

"Since when do you dress nice?" I murmured.

He smiled, kissing my forehead. "Part time job," he murmured. "Night shift."

Something about that made me pause.

Harris was always home. Always there.

And now? Now, he wouldn't be.

For the first time in weeks, I would be truly alone.

Harris touched my cheek, soft, gentle.

"You, okay?" he asked.

I kissed him. Not hard. Not desperate.

Just enough to feel warmth, to feel something simple.

"I'm fine," I whispered. Harris smirked. "Don't stay up too late."

Then he was gone.

I waited until Harris was out of sight.

Then, I unzipped the duffel bag.

The camera. The negatives. The hard drives.

But beneath all that?

A single printed page.

It was a login sheet with website name, username and password.

Jason hadn't just recorded me.

He had already built a profile for me.

A fully verified account on the biggest porn and cam site in the world.

And worse? It was already active. Thousands of people had already subscribed.

Had already been waiting.

I clicked "Forgot Password." And typed in a new one.

The moment I logged in, my inbox flooded.

Requests, tips.

Messages from strangers, begging for more

• "Please tell me you're going live tonight."

• "Your videos changed my life. I NEED to see you again."

• "Name your price. I'll pay anything."

I stared at the numbers.

The tip jar was already at $3,200.

And I hadn't even done anything yet.

I leaned back in my chair, letting the realization wash over me.

This wasn't just sex. This was power.

I scrolled through the list of available private shows.

Men were lining up, throwing money at the screen, waiting for me to appear.

All I had to do was press one button.

I fixed my hair. Applied a little gloss.

Then, I hit "Go Live."

The screen blinked. A red LIVE icon appeared.

And in less than thirty seconds...3,800 viewers.

• "Holy fuck, she's back!"

• "Goddess Helen LIVE. I can't believe this."

• "Take my money. Take all of it."

The tip jar spiked.

$5,400.

Then $6,700.

The numbers were climbing, climbing, climbing. I let them watch.

Nothing explicit. Just me lying on my bed, stretching lazily, fingers trailing across my stomach. The chat exploded.

• "The way she moves..."

• "She doesn't even have to do anything, and I'm losing my mind."

• "I bet she tastes like heaven."

I smirked. They were desperate.

And I? I was enjoying every second of it.

By the time the show ended, I checked my balance.

$15,800. For one night.

I exhaled slowly. Ethan made $5,200 a month.

I had just tripled it in three hours. And this was only the beginning.

I didn't stop. Every night, once Harris left for his night shift, I went live.

I recorded custom videos. I sold personal content.

And every night, my inbox filled with more men, more money, more requests.

But in the morning? I still played the good wife.

I still let Harris fuck me whenever he wanted.

Still let him hold me in his arms like nothing had changed.

Even when I knew it had.

It happened two weeks later. The moment I checked my bank account.

The moment I saw the balance: $147,000.

I stared at the screen. Then, I laughed. A deep, dark laugh.

Helen Sanders? She was gone. That woman was dead.

And in her place? A lustful goddess was born.

It had been a month. Ethan wouldn't be back for another. And in those four weeks, I had made more money than I ever thought possible.

Harris helped me set up a bank account last week.

He didn't ask why. Because he didn't care.

Harris was simple. His only concern? Fucking me. And I didn't mind.

Because at the end of the day? I was the one in control.

Sitting in that house, logging into that site night after night, wasn't enough anymore.

I had too much money, too much power to be trapped in a place that didn't match who I was becoming.

It was time to leave. Not just escape, just evolve.

I needed a home that reflected my new identity. Somewhere private. Luxurious. Untouchable.

So, I started looking. And two days later? I found it.

It was in the nearest town, two hours away from home, nestled near a lake, surrounded by mansions and luxury estates.

The moment I drove in, I knew. This place wasn't just wealthy.

It was obscene. Everywhere I looked, expensive boutiques, luxury car dealerships, private members-only clubs.

Rich-bitch with diamond bracelets, men in tailored suits who had never worked a real job in their lives.

This was where people lived when money wasn't a concern.

And I? I was about to join them.

A deep voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Miss Sanders?"

I turned. And there he was.

Daniel Wright, my real estate agent. Maybe late 30s, sharp jawline, neatly combed dark hair. Tailored charcoal suit hugging his broad frame. The kind of man who was used to being in control but not today.

He extended a hand, his grip firm but lingering just a second too long.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." His voice was smooth, confident.

But his eyes? They flicked over me, the silk of my dress, the curve of my waist, the way my lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.

He was trying so hard to keep it professional. And he was already failing.

"Shall we?" he asked, motioning toward the door.

We drove through a private hillside neighbourhood, where each house sat on sprawling acres, protected by gated entrances and security systems.

But the moment we arrived at the property, I knew.

This was it. A modern two-story bungalow, hidden behind high privacy walls, surrounded by lush greenery.

It wasn't just a house. It was a statement.

8,500 Sq. Ft. of Ultra-Modern Luxury. Full-Length Glass Windows, Every Room Flooded with Natural Light. Private Driveway with a Grand Entrance and Automated Security Gates.

Wraparound Balcony Overlooking the Infinity Pool and the Lake. A Hidden Rooftop Terrace with a Private Lounge and Bar. Three Oversized Bedrooms, each with a Spa like suite Bathroom.

Massive Walk-In Closet and Dressing Room in the Master Suite. Open-Concept Living Room with a Marble Fireplace and Floating Staircase. State-of-the-Art Kitchen with Italian Marble Countertops and Gold Accents.

Infinity Pool with LED Lighting and a Sunken Lounge Area. Detached Garage with Space for Four Luxury Cars. Private Home Theatre with a Built-In Bar and Soundproof Walls.