The Love of Money II
Copyright© 2025 by MindSketch
Chapter 63
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 63 - 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
Thursday, October 17th, 8:59 pm
Astrid Håkansson. I need you to find out where she’s staying. I think it’s somewhere in New York or close by. She’ll be in the area until November 2. Here’s a picture she sent me. See if that helps you locate her.
I read over the text once more to see if I had left anything out, but honestly, there wasn’t much to give him.
I wasn’t the professional, though.
I sent Henry Psalter my text, the picture, and a copy of Astrid’s message, then dropped my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.
Then I opened them again, because all I could see was Lara trussed up like some kind of hunted animal ... not looking much better than one, either.
I needed a distraction until Psalter got back to me, so I turned, headed inside, stalked through the sitting room, and went into my bedroom.
It was one of the rooms Richie’s friends had not been allowed to see on the tour. My own personal space. A sanctuary inside the sanctuary. It had changed subtly over the last few weeks as Emiko took liberties with the decor. The art on the walls was a mix of pleasing abstracts, scenic landscapes of a few of my favorite places, and tasteful renditions of the female form that wouldn’t necessarily be hung up in a schoolroom but wouldn’t be found on a porn site either.
The floors were hardwood, softened by several rugs that tied the colors together better than I would have managed if I had a gun to my head. The bed was a California king with a mattress so comfortable and state-of-the-art that it had probably cost as much as a family sedan. The frame was polished dark wood without being too ornate.
But the most interesting thing in the room was on the bed.
Helen knelt in the middle of it, her long, lithe legs tucked underneath her, knees spread to allow a view of what lay between them. Her spine was perfectly straight, her shoulders back, and her palms rested open on her thighs.
And for a split second, I forgot about Astrid’s message. I forgot about Lara.
Helen’s eyes were closed, and her chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths. She was meditating. I had told her to wait for me, and somehow, she had taken that command, adopted a posture of submission, and turned it into something useful.
Even naked and waiting in my bed, she was still the ever-resourceful and clever Helen VanCamp.
My eyes moved over the clean lines of her body. Her breasts were full and natural, with the soft weight of maturity. I could almost feel them under my hands before I touched her. I knew the warmth of her skin, the taste of her, the way her pale rose nipples tightened when I dragged my tongue over them.
Her stomach was flat and taut. Years of keeping herself perfect for Roger VanCamp’s parties, meetings, and little games had left their mark.
But so had Tara’s training since I collared her. She looked even more fit than she had the first time she had undressed for me in my old apartment.
She also looked healthier.
She had always been beautiful, but there was more life in her now. The worry lines around her eyes seemed softer. Her skin had more color. Her rich blonde hair looked fuller as it caught the lamplight, glowing around her shoulders.
My ownership looked good on her.
Her eyes opened, and that icy blue stare settled on me.
“As commanded, Sir,” she said.
Her tone carefully concealed whatever she was actually feeling in that moment, now that I’d deigned to show up. If she had followed my instructions to the letter, she would have been waiting like that for about an hour. That would have pissed off most women.
Helen wasn’t most women, and I couldn’t tell whether she was angry with me or not.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been like this the entire time.”
“I thought you’d be pleased to find me like this, Sir.”
She wasn’t wrong. A large part of me was very pleased to see her like this. Helen VanCamp had commanded courtrooms, threatened billionaires, and gutted men with contracts.
Now she was kneeling in my bed, naked, wet, and waiting for me. Who the fuck wouldn’t be pleased?
“I am,” I said, tossing my phone onto the bed as I approached her.
But even with Helen in front of me, the thoughts I’d brought into the room started pushing back in.
Astrid.
Lara.
The picture.
Maybe I should call the cops.
Was it irresponsible not to?
Was Astrid expecting me to?
Was she trying to get me to react? Looking for one more excuse to come after me?
But what could she do? Whatever relationship she had with Sachiko had soured after the Wyn event. If Astrid tried to influence her now, I doubted it would go well.
But did that translate to Hiro? He had never struck me as overly paternal, and I wasn’t sure if Astrid’s treatment of Sachiko would actually faze him that much ... especially since she came out unscathed. After all, his anger over the kidnapping of Ryo was more about pride than anything.
I frowned and tried to shove thoughts of Astrid and Lara back down. I hated that she was still affecting me after I’d gotten rid of her on that island. Hell, even the cuts on my back were because of her. Every time they stung, they reminded me of that woman.
To think I had ever entertained the thought of dating that crazy bitch.
My knees hit the low footboard, pulling me out of my own head.
Helen was still watching me.
“Come here,” I said.
For a fraction of a second, she didn’t move. Her eyes lingered on my face, and I knew she saw something there.
Then she leaned forward.
Her hands dropped to the mattress, and she crawled toward me. Her breasts swayed gently beneath her with each movement. Golden hair slid over one shoulder and shimmered in the low light. Her dark red fingernails stood out against the pale gray comforter. The muscles in her back shifted softly as she came closer.
When she reached the edge of the bed, she gracefully settled back onto her heels. Her palms returned to her thighs. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck and the only thing she still wore.
The collar.
My collar.
It looked good on her fair skin.
Desperate to reclaim the moment from Astrid, I pressed one finger to the hollow of Helen’s throat and slid it upward until I reached the collar. I hooked my finger under the edge and tugged.
She made a surprised little sound as she rose off her heels, her mouth crashing against mine. Helen groaned into the sudden kiss.
I slid my hand into her hair and gripped it tight, pulling her closer as our mouths opened. Her tongue found mine, and I took the kiss harder than I meant to. She whimpered against me, but she didn’t pull away.
One hand slid up my arm, gentle and warm. The other dropped to my waist and began to move around me.
“Akh!” I yelped, tearing my mouth off hers as pain lit up my lower back.
Helen leaned back immediately, concern sharpening her face.
“Marcus?”
“It’s fine,” I growled, even though it clearly wasn’t.
I had been able to ignore most of the injuries on my back. A lot of them were superficial and already starting to heal, but one spot near my lower back had gotten more attention from the glass than the rest. It was more tender than the rest and still needed a bandage.
Helen had pressed right against it when she pulled me closer.
She placed a hand on my shoulder. “It is not fine. Here...”
She deftly began unbuttoning my shirt from the top down until it hung open. Then she slid it off my shoulders and took a moment to look at me.
Despite her concern, Helen still took a moment to appreciate me. Her eyes roamed over my chest, which I’d been working so diligently on, and her fingernails traced lightly over my abs before she grasped my shoulders and turned me around.
She hissed.
“I’ve been so busy that I forgot how bad it was.”
“I forget too,” I admitted, glancing back over my shoulder. “I got a little careless earlier and irritated it.”
She slipped fully out of the role I found her in, pulling her legs from underneath her and stepping off the bed.
“Let me get some ointment and a fresh bandage.”
I caught her wrist. “I don’t want you to treat it right now.”
She looked down at my hand, then back up at me.
“Please, Marcus,” she said softly. “Let me take care of you.”
Something about the way she asked made me let her go. I nodded.
A faint smile touched the corners of Helen’s mouth before she turned and went to find them.
Once she disappeared into the bathroom, she called out, “What irritated it?”
“Oh, um...”
I heard cabinet doors open, then the soft sounds of her searching through drawers.
“Erin,” I said. “And Charity.”
Helen chuckled. “I told you to find a new hobby, Marcus. Not indulge in one of your favorites.”
“I like what I like,” I muttered.
I knew she was joking, but the pain and Astrid’s message had already taken some of the fun out of the room. I also wasn’t interested in hearing a lecture about how I was turning into a sex addict.
Helen reappeared in the doorway with supplies in hand. Her smile had faded.
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” I lied, not fully understanding why I was doing it.
Helen stood there for a moment, watching me.
No ... that wasn’t right. I knew why I didn’t want to tell her.
I’d come back from the island with a story about how I’d outsmarted Astrid by having Chloe come to the party with other guests. Then, instead of fucking her the way she wanted, I left her alone for hours with some kind of aphrodisiac coursing through her veins.
On our way back, Erin and Natalie had explained how the drug had felt. My girlfriend had described it like a bad rash that just couldn’t be satisfied ... like a bad case of poison ivy—only, for horny people.
That had to have been excruciating for Astrid.
And humiliating.
With Sachiko leaving with us, I’d hoped Astrid would tuck her tail between her legs and disappear for a while.
Instead, she beat the shit out of Lara just to send me a message.
She still managed to taint my victory by finding a way to get under my skin.
And I didn’t want to admit it ... not after I felt that I’d won so completely.
Finally, Helen crossed the room and stopped beside me.
“Lie down,” she said.
Her tone made it clear it was more of a request than a command, so I let it slide and did as she asked.
Helen crawled onto the bed and settled on my ass. The heat between her thighs pressed against my pants, and the fabric immediately began to pick up the moisture from her sex.
“Is it Natalie?” she asked after a few moments.
Natalie was out of town for the rest of the week and weekend on a family thing. I had offered to go with her, but she hadn’t explained our relationship to her family yet. She wanted to have a conversation with them about how she was dating the wealthiest man in the world before bringing me around.
Especially since we were in an open relationship, and she wasn’t sure how much of that part she wanted to disclose.
She had also admitted that she needed a few days to process what happened on the island. She’d assured me she wasn’t rethinking us, so my anxiety about her going off alone to “think things over” was mostly kept to a dull roar.
Mostly.
“No,” I said.
Then I reached for my phone and managed to snag it with my fingertips. The screen lit up to Astrid’s message, still open.
I handed it over to Helen.
Lying on my stomach, I couldn’t see her face, but I heard the change in her breathing almost immediately as she read the text.
“My God,” she said.
“Yeah.”
She laid the phone down on the bed beside us, then started peeling away the bandage over the worst spot on my back.
I winced.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I thought about calling the police.”
“That would be a mistake,” Helen said as something cold touched my back.
I winced again and tried to look back at her, but I could only see part of one gorgeous leg pressed against my thigh.
“Why?”
“Ryo,” she said, working the ointment carefully into my skin.
“Just Ryo?” I asked, folding my hands in front of me and resting my head on them.
“Isn’t that enough?”
“I guess.”
Her fingers moved gently over my back, slow and careful. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. For once, there wasn’t a power game running through every touch.
I could feel the care and tenderness in her touch as she looked after me. It felt both maternal and sexual. The next few minutes passed in silence, with her working on my back while I let her. It felt nice to just exist and let Helen take care of me without any of the power games.
During the process, she slid my pants down enough that they wouldn’t get in the way. Then she cleaned the worst spot, applied antiseptic cream, added something soothing, and covered it with a fresh bandage.
When she was finished, I heard her wiping her fingers on the small cloth she had brought with her.
Then her hand slid into my hair.
I groaned despite myself, eyes falling shut as her fingers moved along my scalp.
Her hair brushed my back and arm as she leaned down and kissed my shoulder.
“You know she’s baiting you,” she said softly.
“Mmh,” I grunted.
“She knows the kind of man you are.”
Helen slid off her perch and stretched out beside me, resting her cheek against my arm.
I opened one eye and found her watching me.
“She knew exactly how you would react when she sent that picture,” Helen continued. “I would wager she’s counting on you to do something about it.”
“I can’t just ignore that.”
“You can,” Helen said.
She stroked my cheek once, then ran her fingers through my hair again.
“You don’t owe Lara anything. If not for Chloe, Lara would have shot you and given you to Astrid. Your positions would have been reversed, and I’m certain Astrid would not have been as restrained with you as you were with her.”
“I’m not sure I’d call what I did restrained.”
“You saw what she did to Bobbi. Compared to that, you were restrained.”
There was a little edge in Helen’s voice.
As far as she was concerned, Bobbi was hers as much as mine. Helen had broken her, trained her, soothed her, punished her, and put her back together more than once.
“Don’t react to Astrid,” Helen said. “That is what she wants.”
I sighed and rolled onto my side so we faced each other. I brushed her hair behind her shoulder and cupped her cheek.