Purdey's Lustful Quest
Copyright© 2026 by CoryKing
Chapter 29: Adult Video News Awards
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 29: Adult Video News Awards - Purdey opens her marriage seeking desire and control. What begins as permission becomes obsession, power, and erotic reinvention. As intimacy turns transactional and freedom grows intoxicating, the consequences ripple through her marriage, family, and community. A provocative erotic novel about female agency, fantasy, and the cost of wanting more.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Ma Fa Mult Consensual Drunk/Drugged NonConsensual Romantic Heterosexual True Story Sharing Slut Wife Wife Watching BDSM Light Bond Rough Spanking Gang Bang Group Sex Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Interracial Oriental Female Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Public Sex Size
Two months had passed since Singapore, and Purdey was riding an intoxicating wave of success. The Qatari delegation had paid extraordinarily well, catapulting her into the top 0.1% of earners on OnlyFans. The rush of sudden fame and fortune felt like a constant champagne buzz—her phone continuously lighting up with notifications, her bank account swelling daily, and exclusive opportunities flooding her inbox. Everyone wanted a piece of her now.
Prestigious offers poured in from across the adult industry—PornHub, Fake Taxi, and countless others clamouring for collaboration. The sheer volume of requests was dizzying, leaving her both exhilarated and overwhelmed as she sorted through the possibilities. The most intoxicating part was her newfound power to be selective; thanks to Ravi’s connected clients, she could cherry-pick her partnerships without fear of missing out.
After dropping the girls off at Ian’s house, she reflected on his claims of personal transformation. He had insisted he wasn’t pursuing random women anymore following his breakup with Rachel, but scepticism lingered in her mind. Despite her doubts, she decided to extend him the benefit of the doubt—though her newfound industry status had made her far more discerning about who deserved her trust.
Purdey arrived in her Atelier Axis office at 9:30am. The morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting geometric patterns across her minimalist workspace. She took a thoughtful sip of tea, savouring the warmth before settling down to read her emails. Suddenly, the email notification chimed on Purdey’s laptop while she was reviewing architectural renderings. “AVN Award Nomination: Best New Performer” sat bold in her inbox, followed by an invitation to host the ceremony.
She stared at the screen, her breath caught in her throat like a butterfly trapped in glass. Her sleek office at Atelier Axis—all minimalist furniture and award-winning ergonomic design—suddenly felt too exposed, a fishbowl rather than a workspace. The walls of glass that wrapped around three sides of her corner office—once a point of pride in her architectural design, a testament to her belief in transparency and light—now seemed to leave her vulnerable, broadcasting her panic to the bustling design firm beyond. Anyone passing by could glance in and see her rigid posture, the white-knuckled grip on her mouse, the pallor that had drained her face of color. The pristine, professional sanctuary she had created, with its carefully curated art pieces and the subtle scent of sandalwood from her designer diffuser, no longer provided the security she craved. Instead, it felt like a stage where her secret life might be revealed under the harsh spotlight of the recessed LED lighting she had once so meticulously specified.
“Hey, caught you at your desk for once,” Zach said as he came running in from the lift, leaning against her doorframe. His casual stance belied the serious expression on his face.
“Come in,” Purdey said, minimizing the email window. At twenty-four, Zach was nearly twenty years her junior, yet had become one of her closest confidants during her transformation.
“You got the nomination email,” he said, closing the door behind him. “It’s already making rounds at RMIT Uni.” Zach had returned to finish his Masters degree while still managing her socials on the side.
Purdey sank into her chair. “How?”
“Someone from the awards committee has a big mouth. Or,” he shrugged, “maybe you’re more famous than you want to admit.”
The office beyond her glass walls continued its mundane rhythm—colleagues discussing projects, printers humming, coffee mugs clinking against desks. Her professional world, oblivious to her rising status in another industry.
“Your boss was asking about you this morning,” Zach continued, dropping into the chair opposite her desk. “Something about ‘conflicting commitments’ and ‘professional image concerns.’”
Purdey’s phone buzzed. A message from Shivani: Coming over. Don’t move.
“I’ve got two meetings this afternoon,” Purdey said, rubbing her temples. “The Southbank project review and—”
“Cancel them,” Zach interrupted. “This is bigger. You’re at a crossroads.”
Before she could respond, Shivani appeared at her door, laptop tucked under one arm. Without knocking, she entered and closed the blinds.
“Everyone knows,” Shivani announced, placing her laptop on Purdey’s desk. “Your nomination is trending in architecture circles. Three partners from competing firms have already called asking if it’s true.”
Purdey’s stomach twisted. “I never expected this to collide so fast.”
“You’re nominated in four categories,” Shivani said, opening her laptop to display the AVN website. “Not one. Four. Including an invitation to host.”
“Which means the entire industry respects what you’ve built,” Zach added. “Both industries, actually.”
Purdey studied the email again. The ceremony was six weeks away. Her architecture firm had the Docklands presentation that same week—a project she’d spent eighteen months developing.
“I can’t host an adult film awards show,” she said quietly. “This firm handles government contracts. Cultural centres. Schools.”
“You’re thinking about this wrong,” Zach said, leaning forward. His green eyes held none of the judgment she expected. “You’ve built something incredible in less than a year. Most performers work a decade for this recognition.”
Shivani nodded. “He’s right. And hosting? That’s unprecedented for someone with your experience.”
“My boss will fire me,” Purdey countered.
“Probably,” Shivani agreed with characteristic bluntness. “But you made more from your Singapore contract two months ago than this place pays you in ten years.”
The walls of her professional life were crumbling. For months, she’d maintained the separation—accomplished architect by day, adult performer by night. The careful compartmentalization had allowed her to preserve her professional identity while exploring a side of herself she’d never acknowledged.
“I can’t be both people anymore,” Purdey whispered.
“You never were two people,” Zach said. “You’re one person who stopped pretending.”
As if on cue, her office phone rang. Gillian Ward’s extension flashed on the display. The managing director’s personal assistant rarely called anyone directly.
“Ms. Tan, Ms. Ward requests you come to the boardroom immediately,” the voice sounded strained. “Mr. Blake and Mr. Tanaka are waiting.”
Purdey hung up and glanced at her friends. “The partners want me in the boardroom. Now.”
“This is happening faster than I expected,” Zach said, standing up and straightening his shirt. “Want me to come with you?”
“No,” Purdey said. “But stay close.”
She walked through the open office, conscious of eyes tracking her movement. Sara Mills, a junior architect who had always sought Purdey’s mentorship, turned away when Purdey passed her desk. Near the kitchen, two colleagues abruptly stopped talking and separated.
The boardroom door stood partially open. Purdey knocked lightly and entered to find not only the three senior partners but Zach sitting at the far end of the table. He shot her a confused look.
“Ms. Tan,” Kenji Tanaka said, gesturing to a seat. “And Mr. Rosen. Thank you both for joining us.”
“I didn’t realize Zach was part of this meeting,” Purdey said, taking the indicated seat.
Richard Blake cleared his throat. “We called him separately. For different but related reasons.”
Gillian Ward, the firm’s founding partner, sat motionless at the head of the table. Her silver hair was pulled back in its usual severe bun, her black suit impeccably tailored.
“Let’s not waste time,” Gillian said. “We’ve received calls from three clients expressing concern about your ... extracurricular activities, Ms. Tan.”
Purdey felt her pulse quicken. “I maintain a strict separation between—”
“The separation no longer exists,” Gillian interrupted. “Your nomination makes that impossible.”
“And Mr. Thompson?” Purdey asked.
Zach shifted uncomfortably. “They know I helped you set up your website and manage your social accounts.”
Richard Blake tapped his tablet. “Which violates several clauses in your employment agreement regarding outside business relationships with colleagues.”
Purdey hadn’t considered how Zach’s technical assistance might impact his own position. An internship she had helped him. The weight of it hit her—not only was her career in jeopardy, but she’d dragged him down too.
“Zach only helped as a friend,” she started, but Gillian raised a hand.
“The situation is complicated by the fact that your ... performances ... have been viewed by several staff members,” Gillian said. Her voice carried no judgment, only clinical assessment. “It’s creating a hostile work environment.”
“Hostile for whom?” Purdey asked.
“For you,” Kenji said quietly. “Angela Thompson from accounting was observed making obscene gestures behind your back during this morning’s staff meeting.”
Purdey felt her face flush. “I didn’t notice.”
“We did,” Richard said. “Angela’s been suspended pending an HR investigation, most likely the bullying will continue online or worse. Your privacy has been compromised.”
Gillian opened a folder and slid two documents across the table. “We have two options for each of you. Resignation with generous severance, or reassignment to our Singapore office for minimum two years.”
“Singapore?” Zach asked, his voice rising.
“We have a significant new project there,” Kenji explained. “It would remove you both from the immediate situation and give time for this to ... settle.”
Purdey stared at the documents, her mind racing. Singapore would mean abandoning her newly blossoming career. It would mean running away.
“This isn’t about professional reputation, is it?” Purdey asked, looking directly at Gillian. “You’re worried about how I’ll be treated here.”
Something shifted in Gillian’s expression—a momentary softening. “Your work has always been exceptional, Purdey. But this office can be merciless. The whispers, the jokes, the objectification ... it will only escalate.”
As if to emphasize this point, the glass door of the boardroom revealed Angela Thompson walking past, making crude pelvic thrusting motions to another colleague who stifled laughter. She made eye contact with Purdey through the glass and mouthed what looked like “Porn Queen” before walking on.
Gillian’s gaze followed Purdey’s, witnessing the exchange. “You see? It’s already begun.”
The humiliation burned through Purdey, followed quickly by anger. She’d spent years building her reputation in this firm, designing spaces that won awards and brought in millions in contracts. Now she was reduced to a punchline, a dirty secret.
“I’ll need time to consider,” Purdey said, her voice steadier than she expected.
“You have until Monday,” Gillian replied. “Both of you.”
After they were dismissed, Zach caught up with Purdey at her office. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you they called me in too.”
“Not your fault,” Purdey said, gathering her laptop and bag. “I never considered how this would affect you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Zach insisted. “I knew what I was helping with. I’m not ashamed of it.”
As Purdey packed, she noticed Angela Thompson standing with two other women near the kitchen, all three watching her with smirks. One made a circular motion with her fist near her mouth, causing the others to break into poorly concealed laughter.
The anger inside Purdey crystallized into something harder, more defined. She had spent years accommodating others’ comfort, compromising her own desires to maintain professional respectability. For what? To be mocked by people who claimed professional superiority while behaving like schoolyard bullies?
“I’m not going to Singapore,” she said to Zach, loud enough that others nearby could hear. “And I’m not resigning in shame.”
She straightened her back and walked directly toward Angela and her friends, who immediately stopped laughing.
“If you have questions about my work, Angela, you can ask me directly,” Purdey said, her voice carrying across the now-silent office floor. “I’m told you’ve been suspended for creating a hostile work environment. Seems appropriate.”
Angela’s face reddened. “I wasn’t—”
“You were,” Purdey cut her off. “And so you know, I make more in a weekend shoot than you do in three months. The difference is, I’m honest about what I do and who I am.”
She turned and walked back to her office where Shivani now stood waiting, having witnessed the confrontation.
“That was impressive,” Shivani said. “But probably not great for keeping your job here.”
“I don’t think that’s an option anymore,” Purdey replied, feeling a strange lightness. “Maybe it never was.”
For two weeks, whispers followed Purdey through the office. Meetings she once led were reassigned. Junior architects who used to seek her guidance now avoided eye contact in the sleek, glass-walled corridors of the firm where her designs had once been celebrated. Her email inbox filled with project reassignments—each notification a digital knife, methodically carving away her responsibilities and distributing them to other team members.
On Wednesday morning, Purdey found herself seated in the sterile beige conference room of the Human Resources department. The HR representative, a woman with a practiced neutral expression, sat across from her, manila folder open on the polished table between them.
“I need to understand if what’s happening is actually legal,” Purdey said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Every project I’ve touched is being reassigned without explanation.”
The HR representative adjusted her glasses. “According to the partnership agreement you signed, the firm has significant discretion regarding project assignments. The Singapore incident—” she paused, letting the unspoken details hang in the air, “—compromised your professional standing. The clause regarding maintaining reputation and professional conduct is quite clear.”
Purdey stared at the abstract painting on the wall—blue and grey swirls that suddenly seemed to mirror the turbulence in her career. Twenty years of dedication to architecture, reduced to a contractual clause about “reputation.” In her mind, she revisited the clean lines of her award-winning designs, the satisfaction of seeing structures rise from her blueprints, the mentoring of younger architects. All of it slipping away because of one misstep.
When the managing director finally called her in, Purdey had already cleared her personal items from her desk. Her decision formed not in a moment of clarity, but through the slow erosion of hope. Architecture had been her passion, her identity—but now she walked away, carrying only a small box of mementos from a career that had defined her.
“This is unfortunate,” he began, not meeting her eyes.
“Is it?” Purdey asked, surprising herself with her calm. “I designed award-winning spaces for this firm.”
“Your ... other activities ... present reputational concerns.”
“My other career,” Purdey corrected him. “Where I’m also winning awards.”
He pushed a document across the desk. A severance agreement, already prepared.
“You’ve already decided,” she observed.
“The board had no choice,” he replied. “You understand our position.”
Purdey studied the man who’d once praised her vision, her attention to detail, her understanding of how spaces shaped human experience. Now he couldn’t look at her.
“I do understand,” she said, signing the document without reading it. “Better than you might think.”
As she walked out of his office, she saw Zach waiting by the elevators, a cardboard box of his belongings in his arms.
“You chose not to go to Singapore either,” she observed.
He shrugged. “My skills are more valuable elsewhere. Besides, I couldn’t let you face this alone.”
“What will you do now?” she asked.
“I’ve got three job offers already,” he said. “Turns out managing social media for an adult entertainment star gives you marketable skills.”
The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside together.
“You never told me your decision about hosting the awards,” Zach said as the doors closed on Atelier Axis.
Purdey smiled. “I called them this morning. I’m doing it.”
Six weeks later, Purdey stood backstage at the AVN Awards in Las Vegas, her heart racing as she peered through a gap in the curtain at the packed auditorium. The event was held at the Paradise Grand, a venue famous for its opulent chandeliers and crimson velvet seats. Industry executives, performers, directors, and fans filled every available space.
“Ten minutes to showtime,” the stage manager called, clipboard in hand.
Purdey’s custom gown—a stunning architectural piece in midnight blue with precise geometric cutouts—had been designed by a former colleague who’d remained loyal. The dress transformed her body into a living sculpture, revealing calculated glimpses of skin through angular openings that mimicked the negative space in her building designs.
“Need anything before you go on?” asked Zach, now officially her media manager. He wore a tailored black suit that made him look older than his twenty-three years.
“I’m good,” Purdey replied, though her stomach fluttered with nerves. “The teleprompter’s set?”
“Triple-checked,” Shivani confirmed, appearing beside them in a sleek red dress. “And I’ve got your acceptance speeches if you win.”
“When you win,” Zach corrected.
A production assistant with a headset approached. “Ms. Tan? We need you at the entry mark in two minutes.”
As she was led to her position, Purdey caught glimpses of industry stars preparing for their own moments. Veteran performers exchanged last-minute makeup tips while newcomers fidgeted nervously. Directors huddled with producers, discussing their nominations.
“Five minutes,” the production assistant announced.
Purdey’s phone buzzed with messages:
FROM ZACH: You look incredible. Row three. Ready with camera.
FROM SHIVANI: All systems go. Your architectural fans are watching the livestream too.
The unexpected message made Purdey pause. Her former world was watching? She hadn’t considered that possibility.
The house lights dimmed, and the crowd noise swelled as the ceremony’s signature music began.
And now, your host for the evening—the architect of pleasure, Purdey Tan!”
Bright lights hit her as she stepped onto the stage. The auditorium erupted in applause, flashbulbs popping like stars against the cavernous space of the theatre. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ornate ceiling, casting prismatic reflections across the sea of expectant faces. Behind her, massive high-definition screens displayed her image, the intricate geometric patterns of her custom-designed gown catching the light in mesmerizing ways, a deliberate nod to her architectural background.
“Welcome to a night celebrating creative excellence,” she began, her voice steady despite her racing heart. As she gripped the microphone, a fleeting thought crossed her mind: her drafting table hadn’t been touched in weeks. The blueprints for that downtown renovation project remained half-finished in her studio. “Where structure meets passion, where design meets desire, and where innovation takes physical form.”
The audience laughed appreciatively at her double entendres, recognizing the clever way she bridged her two worlds. She wondered if they could sense her growing reluctance to return to the constraints of traditional architecture—the bureaucratic approvals, the budget compromises, the endless client revisions. Here, on this stage, her creative vision manifested without limitation.
“Tonight we honour those who’ve constructed experiences that touch us deeply,” she continued, finding her rhythm. “Who’ve created spaces—emotional and physical—where fantasy and reality intersect.” Much like she had done herself, abandoning the rigid frameworks of conventional design for this new career that felt increasingly like her true calling.
For the next three hours, Purdey commanded the stage with unexpected ease. The massive ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers hanging from ornate ceilings, while spotlights swept across a sea of round tables where industry elites applauded in designer attire. She introduced presenters with witty architectural metaphors, kept the energy high during technical difficulties, and gracefully accepted two awards of her own. When the Best New Performer trophy was placed in her trembling hands, the audience rose in thunderous approval, camera flashes creating a constellation of light around her tearful smile. Later, she returned to the podium to receive Best Scene in a Feature, completing her triumphant evening on the flower-adorned stage. With each moment in the spotlight, the thought of returning to her drafting desk seemed more distant, more like a former life than a current obligation.
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