Yes, it's back. Why the delay? I tried writing the whole kinky weekend. After four drafts I have given up - I do want some story, and continual pattern of 'fuck a few of them, sleep, eat, go back to fucking' got boring RFQ. So there may be some flashbacks to it, but you get this instead. Brianna's kinks, I note, are a toned down version of a young lady I was playing with shortly before the pandemic.
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It had been a very good weekend, fucking his growing harem, watching them fuck each other, always emptying his balls inside his Asian toy... On Saturday, He'd worked with Mel to concoct a believable summary of his doings for the report that did not mention his claiming them as his, or his plans to pull everyone away from the organisation that she was reporting to: Stacey (That he would be breeding on Tuesday: the next few weeks should get his whole harem knocked up) proved most useful at suggesting things that would make it seem more realistic, making him wonder where, exactly, she had gotten her experience at falsifying reports.
That was the only notable thing of the weekend other than fucking their brains out of their pretty little heads, feeding them and telling them he loved them: He'd sent everyone home Sunday afternoon - everyone needed a rest by that point -- making plans with Monique to help her dodge her destiny as a camgirl. He had some plans for that, and had messaged an old college friend -- Brian -- before crashing into bed, utterly exhausted: His conditioning to reduce his window between refractory period seemed to be showing already, which had given him the ability to satisfy them all, eventually, but had proven utterly fucking exhausting.
After a very deep night's sleep -- the weekend, he admitted to himself, had been exhausting -- Mark woke with a stretch, already missing the presence of their warm bodies in his bed. After a long shower to ease his muscles, breakfast consumed, he sat at his computer, flicking through his work e-mails and making the needed replies as he pondered his day.
He had a meeting with his trainer at the gym at noon, before his swim; he needed to make and upload the video for gofundme, and take a look at the site that Monique had been instructed to join, and see if it was what he thought it was.
After some reflection, he decided to get his 'chores' done before he went to the gym: He had a suspicion he'd need his mood uplifted by then, and spent some time contemplating the script for the gofundme video.
He decided on something simple: anyone who watched it would find his picture and story appealing and sympathetic, would want to donate no more than they could afford, never enough to disrupt their own finances or lives, and share his page with everyone else they knew, encouraging them to contribute. To remember the video as a charming, sympathetic story that suited their own preconceptions of worthy causes. At the end, he added in a variant on the immunity pattern he'd already used on himself and his harem, to ensure that after donating, no other video would work on them or be remembered -- it would be a first step in spreading immunity.
Running through it a few times, making a few tweaks, he recorded it, doing his best to mimic the style of the sexual ones -- he was a little nervous this wouldn't work -- and tied it to the video file, as he had his previous videos -- it came out at just over two minutes.
Setting up the gofundme was a trivial matter -- he pitched it as someone with a growing family, medical bills, needing to raise enough money to acquire a larger home, linking the video as a more complete explanation. Making sure it looked kosher, he made the account public. Now to wait and see if it worked the way he thought it would.
Taking a deep breath, he activated a VPN to mask his IP -- best be careful -- and opened up the site: he was not particularly surprised that it led to a login screen, promising 'hot cam girls' and with a teaser showing some of the talent available for 'VIP clients'.
Clicking the link to 'Join VIP now!' he was surprised to see a video open up -- a video with a pounding beat, hypnotic patterns, that he had explicitly made himself immune to.
Paying attention and yet not, letting the hypnotic beat fade and focusing only on the words, his attention skipping to make sure he wasn't fully drawn in, he listened. It seemed to be a variation on the downloadable video, interestingly enough: The differences were more noticeable than the similarities. Women who watched it would automatically want to sign up for the site as submissive slaves for sale: And both would feel compelled to to keep the site secret, what they do on the site secret, what the site makes them do secret, and while on it, to find everything they did there perfectly natural. To sign in honestly and completely.
Only when it ended was he moved to the sign-on screen, and he paused for a short while to set up a new, anonymous e-mail account that wasn't tied to his existing social platform: better safe than sorry, signing up with that. Interestingly, it did not ask for any financial information for sign-in, though it did ask for his name, address, and phone number. That was a slightly trickier problem to bypass.
It took him a good twenty minutes to find the service he needed: Fro a small fee, he could create a phone account and have it route to his own phone. Grimacing, and reminding himself he should be quite flush soon, he acquired the number and finished his account, fairly confident it could not be traced back to him.
As expected, there was a list of 'chatrooms' with various gorgeous women, that he could go 'private' with if he bought credits. More interestingly, and grimly relevant, was a little track showing the current bid to 'rent' or 'purchase' the model. Digging into the details -- in both cases, the 'bid' was a payment you made. Whoever paid the most to 'rent' after a three month period would get a weekend with the model: After a year, the person who had big the most, collectively would gain custody of the slave. That was pretty bad. Now how to make it worse?
