The Love of Money II
Copyright© 2025 by MindSketch
Chapter 42: Walking the Tightrope
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 42: Walking the Tightrope - Marcus and the others are no longer just surviving the world—they’re shaping it. Erin has always known what she wants. Now she’s orchestrating it. Helen is learning that submission isn’t surrender. Bobbi, stripped of her old identity, stands at a crossroads. New women cross his path. Old ones return. Some hand him their heart. Some, a leash. Some, a knife in the back. And then there are the ones waiting for him to stumble. It's hard to rest when you have a target painted on your back.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Coercion Consensual NonConsensual Reluctant Romantic Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Rags To Riches BDSM DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Light Bond Rough Sadistic Spanking Group Sex Harem Orgy Interracial Black Female White Female Oriental Female Indian Female Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Exhibitionism Facial Massage Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Sex Toys Squirting Voyeurism Big Breasts Small Breasts Slow Violence
Wednesday, October 9th, 7:35 am
“Gah! Fuck me!”
Carla Tanaka threw her ass back against me repeatedly, grunting loudly through clenched teeth. Her sun-kissed skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, and her dyed blonde hair was plastered to her face.
She threw a wild look over her shoulder, her chocolate brown irises glinting in the lamplight. “Harder!”
I tightened my grip on her hips and obliged, slamming my crotch into her generous, sculpted ass with every stroke as I bottomed out inside her. Every time the head of my cock hit her cervix, she let out another breathy grunt ... almost as if she were in pain.
But if I even considered slowing down, she would have made her displeasure known.
Say what you will about Carla—she was vain, vapid, annoying, and an overall brat.
But she was a fucking hellcat in the bedroom.
Her perfectly manicured nails dug into the sheets, trying to find more purchase as she slammed back against me while on her hands and knees. Her head slowly tilted back as she began to repeat a breathy, “Yes ... yes ... yes ... yes... yes!”
She was starting to cum.
I reached down, wrapped my arm around her neck so that her throat rested in the crook of my elbow, and hauled her back against me as I still pounded her from behind. Her back pressed against my chest as she brought her hands behind her to grasp whatever of her body she could reach, her nails digging into my flesh.
“Oh fuck!” She cried out. “Fuck, YES!”
I reached around and grasped a tit with my other hand, pinching her nipple roughly before palming the entire thing and noting how different it felt than say, Helen’s.
Carla had fake tits. She’d told me before the surgery that they’d been roughly a B-cup, but now they were closer to D’s. Typically, I wouldn’t have thought much of them, but Hiro Tanaka had paid for these tits, and that man spared no expense to make himself look good, and that included his wife. Looking at Carla in all her glory, you could barely have noticed that they were fake. They almost looked like a larger version of Erin’s gravity-defying breasts.
As I squeezed these, though, I could feel the slight shift in density between the flesh of her tits and the silicone. They were new ... different, and I didn’t realize exactly how much I would enjoy them.
“Oh god yes!” Carla gurgled loudly. “Fuck me!”
I took my hand off her tit and slapped it across her mouth, then I drove her face down into the mattress as I collapsed on top of her. My cock pounded in and out of her so fast that I thought I would hyperventilate. Even with her limited range of movement, the sex-crazed trophy wife still managed to thrust back against me, egging me on to completion.
She cursed at me, the words muffled beyond recognition as I still covered her mouth, and I felt her tongue and teeth scrape against my palm. If anything, it was a turn-on.
Enough of one to push me over the edge.
“Ah, fuck!” I cried out, feeling the torrent of pent-up juices release into her in a flood.
I thrust into her repeatedly as load after load dumped into her tight pussy, flooding her womb with my seed. The thought of my juices carrying my sperm into the core of this woman’s reproductive system and implanting the wife of Hiro Tanaka, making her give birth to my child...
Fuck ... and I thought cucking him was hot.
Eventually, I spent the last of my load and rolled off of the noisy gold digger. We lay next to each other, breathing loudly and soaking the bedsheets with our sweat. I would have to get Jess to change the sheets later.
We lay there in absolute silence for about five minutes before Carla had to go and ruin it. “You should visit me at work. I have a couch in my office that would be just perfect for—”
“Carla,” I cut her off.
“Hm?”
“You’re fired.”
I sat up and began to slide off the bed, spying my phone on the floor on top of my clothes. Standing up, I made my way over to my clothes.
Carla rolled onto her knees, looking confused. “What?”
It had been overdue—something I’d promised Chandler weeks ago but had failed to follow through on ... mainly because Carla’s threats and then the feud with Hiro had driven it from my mind.
“I have a new job if you’re interested.”
Carla sat back on her heels. “What is it?”
Her eyes were full of suspicion—old caution resurfacing from years of baggage. I couldn’t blame her. Being married to a man like Hiro came with its own kind of scarring. Going from that straight into the care of someone with a room full of whips and chains would twist anyone’s sense of security.
“I’m buying The Starlight,” I said as I picked up my phone and began flipping through what my algorithm thought I’d find interesting.
An audible gasp drew my attention back to her. “What!? No!”
I fixed her with a steely gaze.
With a bit of tough love, Carla and I had reached a tentative understanding. She’d tried to extort me into dating her by dangling exclusive information in front of me. I turned around and threatened to beat it out of her by locking her in stocks and waving a riding crop in her face.
The result was a compromise—a safe environment and a little bit of tender love and care in exchange for what she had to share. Since that deal, she’d been a lot more cooperative. I guessed that she knew that the moment I was done with her husband, my patience with her would be at an end.
Carla’s bottom lip began to tremble, and genuine tears shimmered in her brown eyes. Her voice cracked. “This isn’t what I wanted...”
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she picked up a corner of a sheet to dab at her eyes.
The woman was dangerous, seductive, and had years of experience manipulating and climbing the social ladder. She also fell apart at the drop of a hat.
“Hey,” I said softly. “I’m not asking you to become a stripper, Carla.”
She peered from over the sheets, red-rimmed eyes staring up at me curiously.
“I’m asking you to be the floor manager.”
She blinked, continuing to watch me in silence, and I rolled my eyes as I realized that she wasn’t quite sure what that was.
Jesus Christ, one minute, this woman was mouthing off about tax documents and repeating conversations Hiro had like a parrot. Next, she couldn’t even piece together context clues to figure out what the hell a floor manager of a Gentleman’s Club was.
“You’d be in charge of making sure the place looked good and ensuring the girls had everything they needed. Their costumes, the booze, the atmosphere ... that would be all you.”
That prolonged, watery stare was just starting to get annoying when she lowered the sheet, her lovely lips parted as if she were on the verge of sharing a thought not fully realized.
“Don’t you think that caters a little more to your talents?” I continued. “No more offices and corpo-speak. You’d be surrounded by beautiful women, directing them on how to get wealthy men to part with as much of their money as possible. I can’t think of a more fitting role for you than teaching and guiding these women to become the best versions of themselves in their work.”
Carla slowly lay back down on the bed, hugging the sheet to her as a smile flitted across her mouth. Her blonde bangs were teasing her eyelashes, making her blink rapidly as she envisioned the picture I’d painted for her. Her look of genuine pleasure, combined with how she took care of herself, made her look much younger than her thirty-three years.
She was almost a gem as long as she didn’t speak.
“You really think I could do it?” she asked.
There was no way in hell I thought she could do it on her own. If the business were left solely in her hands, I suspected it would be a financial liability within a year. It’s why I was going to put Rose in charge of the actual running of the business. Hopefully, Carla would be so wrapped up in her own little world, though, that it wouldn’t occur to her that Rose would be the real authority over this new venture.
Carla was still invaluable in my struggle with Tanaka. While she wasn’t purposefully withholding information from me anymore—as far as I could tell—she would always recall little tidbits of information. Over the last week, she’d reported on what he liked to eat, what he liked to do for fun ... his favorite position to sleep in.
I wanted to keep her happy and near me.
But I also wanted to keep her at arm’s length. I had enough going on without having to worry about Carla the courtesan, who immediately slipped into mind games and flirtation as if it were a simple robe. She would likely stab me in the back if the right opportunity came along.
Which is where Rose came in.
According to Natashya and Erin, the slender dancer from The Starlight was developing feelings for me. At first, I waved it off, but looking back on our interactions aboard the King’s Quest, the yacht I’d rented, it made sense. The way she’d looked at me while we fucked in standard missionary reminded me of the way a cartoon princess would look at the hero. How she clung to my arm as if she owned me while introducing me to the troupe on deck made our relationship feel a lot less transactional at the time. She’d even started texting more.
So, I trusted Rose to keep an eye on Carla and report any suspicious activity ... like if she grew too close to a particular client. The money I was spending on kitting out The Starlight with sophisticated recording equipment would also help.
And who knew ... maybe this setup would get me some interesting information from people with enough money to enjoy The Starlight. Its clientele were usually the kind of people that shaped New York, if not the entire US, and it was high time I started building my own web of intrigue.
“Carla, I can’t think of anyone better suited for the job.”
Ding!
The elevator doors opened, and I walked out into the hallway, wearing yesterday’s clothes and smelling of sex.
“Mr. Upton,” Jon said from the chair he typically sat while on a shift in the mansion. The ease with which he sat in the armchair was all for show. Yeah ... he was reading one of his self-help books, but the man could be on his feet with his gun drawn faster than I could process what was happening.
I shoved my hands in the pockets of my oversized hoodie and strode into the living room, making my way toward the dining room where breakfast should be out. “Morning, Jon. Good book?”
“Yes, sir.”
Months with the man, and he was still a dull conversationalist.
“Hey, boss!” Erin said as she rounded the corner, typing away on her phone, glasses perched on the end of her nose.
“Hey,” I said as we passed each other going in opposite directions. I stopped and turned. “Is the meeting on?”
She spun on her heels and walked backward, breaking eye contact with her phone to look at me. “Ten-thirty! Don’t be late! Food’s out, if you haven’t eaten yet!”
“Sounds good. Join me?”
“Already ate! I have a quick call with Adrian over at Marduke, then I have to get with Chandler. Find me when you’re done!”
And with that, she headed toward her office.
“Find me when you’re done,” I muttered, pulling a face as I remembered a time when those beautiful lips would awaken me.
I couldn’t wait for this to be over so that things could get back to normal.
Erin had been slammed since the yacht meeting. Truthfully, everyone at that table had been running on caffeine and adrenaline for the past week. With twenty-five hours of work to fit into a twenty-four-hour day, there was no time to waste.
In some ways, I pitied Chandler the most. His task was to relay self-sabotaging orders across his executive suite without raising suspicion. He had to hire incompetents, bring in technical teams to quietly compromise infrastructure, approve financially unsound initiatives that passed surface audits, and inflate meaningless metrics just enough to impress the untrained eye. Rumors had to be seeded. NDAs deployed. Internal leadership was quietly undermined. From the start, Chandler insisted he wasn’t built for this kind of treachery—too clean-cut for the dirty side of my grandfather’s legacy. And yet ... he seemed to be pulling it off. From the outside, VistaVision looked like a well-oiled machine. Inside, the CEO was calmly stuffing as much used gum into its gears as possible.
I guess you don’t become one of the most powerful executives in the world without knowing how to dismantle a company while smiling for the quarterly review.
Of course, Chandler wasn’t alone. Helen made sure of that. Turns out, unlike Chandler, she was built for subterfuge. Hiro’s lawyers had already begun poking around, and Helen had them eating out of her hand. Her custom legal frameworks were stunning—labyrinthine contracts and Trojan clauses nested inside agreements so bespoke they’d take someone with a godlike intellect to untangle. She and Vikram oversaw a battalion of legal teams working in such isolation that half didn’t even know the others existed. It all worked together with Chandler’s disinformation campaigns and shell companies.
Charity was still the biggest question mark. She was proving her giftedness every day, but she was still green. Without Julia’s wisdom to lean on, she’d nearly stumbled out of the gate. It had forced Erin to prepare a shortlist of PR consultants in case she buckled.
But Charity stayed strong. She moved through the crucible with unshakable grace and a few clever sparks of her own. One of her best was a small, curated leak suggesting another media company had expressed interest in acquiring VistaVision. That rumor alone was enough to whet Hiro’s appetite and push him into early due diligence. As if that weren’t enough, she also began systematically erasing my name from VistaVision’s public identity, trying to reduce my association as much as possible when things went south.
Then there was Psalter—the watcher in the shadows. If someone looked like a future problem, a single call to Psalter could make them quit, vanish, or suddenly be occupied with some urgent emergency. Bureaucratic hold-ups dissolved like sugar in warm water—waived regulations, greased paths, strings pulled in places I never asked to see. It was all morally bankrupt, but I was sure that the whole thing would’ve collapsed without him.
And, of course, there was Erin—our architect. She saw the entire picture and directed each piece like the tech in a heist movie, calmly feeding commands to the crew and warning of blind spots. She was the one who made my commands a reality while simultaneously helping me keep my fingers on the pulse of the entire operation.
All of it had been laid out in pristine detail over their four-hour planning session that evening, and they left the ship in the dead of night to begin implementing their parts of the subterfuge. That left me with Rose and fifteen members of an Eastern European dance troupe—Natashya had returned to Emily.
Despite the threat that loomed overhead, it had turned out to be a spectacular night ... and the following day. Milena and Leonie practically dragged me back to the master cabin, where we were joined by a close friend of Leonie’s half an hour later. The three of us ended up going at it until an hour before sunrise, where we ended up passing out in a tangled heap.
I woke up three hours later to my dick being sucked by Iryna. The three dancers were gone, leaving their de facto leader to ride me to completion all by herself.
I spent the next few hours with the dancers, who mostly looked like they were recovering from hangovers. We had a late breakfast and some decent conversation around the pool before I finally saw them off. A grateful Iryna kissed me deeply as a thank you for sponsoring their troupe for the next year and then left me with her personal number written on a scrap of paper.
Rose and I ended up sleeping for a few more hours before we headed back to the city.
Of course, other things had happened other than the implementation of the grand plan. I tried to see Natalie at least every other day, and we’d fallen into something of a rhythm—I spent a night at her place, and she spent two nights at mine. We hadn’t had the official talk, and even though nothing had really changed, it genuinely felt like I had an actual girlfriend. I still slept with who I wanted while she became mine exclusively ... exactly the way I’d desired.
Even though she’d expressed a certain level of bisexual curiosity, we still hadn’t brought anyone else into bed with us, but it wasn’t like I was starved for that kind of thing, so I let it lie for now. We rarely even talked about the other women. Natalie was my intimacy ... my warmth—a safe space with the potential to possibly become more down the line. It was perfect, and since she didn’t have a problem with me sleeping with other girls, I didn’t want to jeopardize what we had by being too greedy.
Except for the last few days, Astrid still sent her daily pictures—such as an artsy one of her lying across the bench in her sauna, wearing absolutely nothing, with a hand between her legs. There was another one, a close-up of her and her female companion, Lara. Both of their lips were painted deep red and looked on the verge of kissing, with Astrid hovering over the submissive brunette as she looked at the camera out of the corner of her eyes. Opening every single one of them usually meant I had to seek out someone to relieve me.
That was usually Bobbi, who spent more time on her knees with my cock in her mouth than usual, seeing as my favorite little assistant had been so preoccupied lately, and even Charity and Helen had limited time for me. I’d even taken advantage of Jessica, taking both of them to bed with me after fucking them for an hour and a half one evening.
Emiko scolded me for that ... not so much for keeping Bobbi in bed with me, but Jessica. She gave me another soft, conversational lecture about setting certain boundaries with my ex, which I appreciated. I certainly didn’t want Jessica to get the wrong idea about us.
It hadn’t been all fun and games. Besides the effort to sabotage VistaVision, Detective Reynolds took up a large chunk of my brain power. I was constantly wondering if I would wake up one morning to see him walking into the lobby of my apartment building with a warrant for my arrest. He’d already called me three times since he left my house, asking for follow-up information—where had I been on this date ... what my hobbies and interests were. Every time I got a call from him, I had Helen join me on the line so she could respond.
I had hoped that after beginning this deal with the Tanakas, the detective would just disappear. Either Hiro wanted to keep the pressure on me so I would stay eager to sell, or Reynolds wasn’t in his pocket after all. If I had to guess, my money was on the former. Hiro had proved to be merciless enough times that this tactic made sense.
It was something I needed to address with them, but was it really worth rocking the boat in the middle of this deal?
Sighing and shaking my head, I tried to push all the concerns and worries to the back of my mind as I emerged into the dining room. Tara was the only other presence, standing at the table, scrolling through her tablet while munching on an English muffin loaded with eggs, turkey bacon, and avocado. The sound of the door shutting behind me pulled her out of her own little world, and she glanced up at me, startled.
“Oh! Hey there!” She said, giving me a little smile.
Gorgeous as always, my personal trainer was in tight-fitting capris, a baggy t-shirt that hung loosely off her shoulders, showing off a hint of the turquoise strap of a sports bra. Her hair was held in place at the back of her head with a messy ponytail that had been doubled over into a loop.
“Hey, Tara,” I said as I made my way to the table and began loading up a plate with eggs and bacon. Real bacon—not the kind made from birds.
“Before you ask,” I said, “I had something come up this morning, keeping me from making our session.”
“Hey, you pay the checks, sir,” she said. “Just don’t make a habit of it, and you’ll be fine. The key to keeping this up,” she said, vaguely waving a half-eaten muffin at my body, “is consistency. Daily exercise.”
“I did cardio this morning,” I said, unable to stop myself from smirking as I stabbed some melon and put it on my plate.
She gave me a half smirk in return, picking up on my meaning. “Oh, really? That’s a Tara-approved way to start the day. Guess I’ll let you off the hook then.”
“You’re too kind,” I said, pouring myself some coffee as I took a seat. I considered telling her that she was welcome to join in whenever she wanted, but I didn’t want to risk undoing any of Erin’s hard work in convincing Tara to take me for a spin.
Having worked up an appetite, I didn’t hesitate to dig into my food. “How’s everyone doing?”
“Great,” Tara said, seeming to come out of a small reverie. “They’re all doing well. Bobbi’s stopped complaining about her diet. Actually seems to like some of the new foods I have her on. I’ve been working with Camille to bring in some new sources of meat. Prime cuts ... I think you’ll like ‘em.”
I grunted in acknowledgement and continued eating.
Tara glanced at the door and then slowly approached my seat, taking the one next to me. “Marcus...”
I looked into her lovely almond eyes.
She hesitated briefly, lips parted as if trying to taste the words before actually saying them.
“I was wondering...”
“Oh, good! I was hoping to catch you before I had to leave,” my sister said as she walked into the room. She abruptly stopped, looking back and forth between Tara and me. “Uh ... did I interrupt anything?”
“N-no,” Tara said, abruptly standing and scooping up the remaining half of her muffin and tablet. “I was just goin’ over Marcus’s diet plan with him before going to meet with Shea for a workout.”
I stared hard at her, but she could barely meet my gaze. “Talk later?”
“You sure you don’t want to talk now?” I asked.
Tara shook her head. “Nah. You’re busy. Maybe tomorrow? Grab a bite after the workout?”
“It’s a date,” I said.
She did a brief double-take, then looked awkwardly at Emily. “Sorry I can’t stick around, Em. See you this evening?”
“Of course!” Emily said, looking a little bewildered as Tara left. Then she looked back at me. “What was that about?”
I beckoned Emily closer so I didn’t have to speak too loudly, and she took Tara’s seat, starting to pour coffee for herself as she waited for me to continue.
Glancing once more at the door to make sure she was gone, I said in a stage whisper, “I think she’s trying to ask me if she can court my assistant.”
Emily sniggered at the absurdity of someone like Tara trying to court Erin the traditional way. “Um ... okay. What am I missing?”
“It’s complicated,” I said, waving her off.
“Quite complicated,” Emily said, eyes darting toward the door. “Especially considering that Nat’s hinted at maybe inviting someone for a ‘sleepover.’” She raised her hands in the air to make air quotes with her fingers. “Tara was who she had in mind.”
The thought of possibly sharing another lover with my sister made me pause mid-chew. Hell, the image of Natashya and Emily and Tara...
I needed to get a fucking priest to exercise those images out of my head because my brain sure as heck didn’t want to let them go.
“Sorry,” Emily said, wincing. “Was that too much information?”
“I think we passed that when you stole Tash from me.”
The sound of metal clinked as Emily picked up a fork and made a playful motion to jab me with it. A piece of melon on the end of my fork intercepted her attack.
“Full disclosure,” I said, not wanting Emily to get a surprise if they did decide to invite my trainer into their bed,” Erin’s been wearing her down ... trying to invite her to try men, and I think it’s working.”
“Oh, god,” Emily said, horrified.
I hesitated before asking, “You weren’t seriously considering...”
“No,” she quickly said. “Natashya was just suggesting, but I don’t think I’m ready for something like that ... if I’ll ever be ready for something like that.”
“With another woman? Or a man.”
“Both ... either.” Emily made another face. “Is this too weird?”
What would have been too weird was if I’d told her about that dream I had about her in the Norwegian forests. Or if I told her about how it made me feel when something reminded me of that dream. Telling Emily how the images of Natashya, Tara, and... her were a turn-on—that would have been weird.
“No,” I said matter-of-factly, doing my best to keep any awkwardness at bay. “At least, no more awkward than walking in on you with my fuck buddy.”
Emily turned beet red as she laid the fork back down. “Please tell me the truth ... are we actually okay?”
“Because of Natashya?”
“Yeah.”
“Em ... yes! I was only giving you a hard time!”
My sister studied me carefully and then said, “Okay. Just making sure.”
“Good. Now that that’s out of the way, can we move on to the reason I wanted to see you?”
The awkward energy hung about the air as Emily leaned in a little and tried to put our conversation up to this point behind us.
“I’m starting a brand new studio for film, and we already have our first one lined up. It’s in pre-production right now, but casting will start soon, and I wanted to—”
Emily was about ready to crawl onto the table. “Who’s the writer? Is there a director yet? Oh my god! What’s the name of the studio!?”
“Whoa,” I said, leaning back in my seat. “Well, Karly Titus is the writer and one of the producers. I don’t think we have a director yet, but I’d like you—”
“Are you freaking kidding me!?” If it had been possible, Emily would have spontaneously combusted. I was a little surprised she wasn’t squealing. “Karly Titus!?” She crawled onto her knees in her seat and was practically halfway on the table, forearms on the wooden surface. “What’s the movie about!?”
“It’s ... well ... it’s about us.”
I explained the whole thing to her—how Karly wanted to make a movie about the attack on the Vegas rooftop and how it turned into a kidnapping. I explained how she thought it could be a good story, and how I agreed. I didn’t mention my own personal stipulations regarding the Tanakas’ role in the movie. For one thing, Emily was relatively isolated from a lot of my troubles. She knew that I was dealing with a lot of corporate espionage and that the Tanakas were involved. She’d been thoroughly informed about the NYPD search of the house and that there could be a connection with my ongoing feud. My sister was enough of a worrier without me filling her in on every gory detail, and I had a feeling she would look disfavorably on me cutting off the fingers of my enemies. Thus, the reason to withhold a few details.
Likely, she would eventually learn about it all, in due time, but I would make the world bleed for my sister if I needed to. If it was within my power to help her get a movie role, you could bet your ass I’d do whatever I could to make it happen.
“Karly’s happy to have you audition for a few parts. Call her up and see what she would like you to try out for, but this is her project, so at the end of the day, it’s her call on whether or not you’re a good fit.”
Emily clutched at her chest. “Of course!”
“But just know that I’m proud of you, sis, and I think you could do amazing on the big screen. I know that whatever you get, you’ll knock it out of the park.”
The wind left my lungs as my sister lunged at me, nearly sending both of us plunging to the floor as my chair teetered. She plastered herself to me as she squeezed the ever-living shit out of me, raining little kisses all over one of my cheeks.
“Thank you ... so much,” she finally breathed as the kisses ceased. Her pale gray eyes stared into mine, full of gratitude. We were so close...
The tip of her tongue slipped from between her lips as she slowly wet them.
Was it me, or had her breathing suddenly become shallow?
How long had it been since she’d actually been with a guy?
I pushed that question out of my head as soon as it entered, thanking God, the fates ... whoever, that I’d recently had sex and didn’t feel the overwhelming urge to do something with the boner that was already trying to respond to the proximity of a pretty girl—no matter who she was.
“Anything for you, Em,” I said softly.
She returned to her seat, a rosy blush to her pale cheeks. “Can I call her today?”