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Running through strawberry fields.
I clicked the link, moving in closer as I scanned the text.
Red for the watcher. 1 bit YUA.
Within seconds my laptop alerted. I leaned in, narrowing my eyes as I read through the private message.
Handler1019: Good timing. Red or white?
My fist tightened around the glass. The vicious smile couldn’t be held in as I eased the glass down. I knew what this was. Surely it wasn’t real. They never were. Red rooms were a myth. At least all the ones me and the guys had come across. They were staged with willing participants. And one bitcoin? That cost more than most people’s cars. This person couldn’t be serious. No one in their right minds would pay that much when other ‘shows’ charged a fraction of the price. Unless…no. No way.
I swallowed hard, sliding my fingers over the keys.
VCTYNU: Red.
Handler1019: Bit?
VCTYNU: Yes. Proof or leave me the fuck alone.
Moments passed. As I waited for his response, I began breaking through the layers of his defense, just as I knew he was trying to do to me. His security was superb, leaving me more impressed than worried, but it wasn’t good enough. Where I could easily get access, he didn’t stand a chance getting anything out of me.
Handler1019: Click link for clip of the newest. Nightly pink shows. You’ve missed the first two nights, but you caught us at a good time. Day 3 is when it starts to get good. 4 days until red. Winning bidder chosen that night.
I took in the link, pausing as I scanned down the length. Heat started to pour from my skin. It was legit, and it would disappear the moment the video ran its course. Was this my path? Was it a waste of my damn time? Fake, like all the others? There was only one way to find out.
I clicked the link, not prepared for what I saw. Where all the other fakes in the past had been set up in a room covered in plastic, this was a dungeon. A real one, mimicking a darker theme I’d seen in some clubs. They were nice, but they weren’t this. They weren’t real. The appeal to this fantasy…This was authentic. Despite why I was here, my sadist couldn’t deny the pull or realization as to why some would resort to watching this.
Leaning in, I observed as the camera zoomed closer. A woman lay nude in a fetal position on the floor, sleeping. Her hands were over her head, and her body was covered in large bruises, cuts, and burns. She was trembling, maybe even crying as she let out long, slow breaths. The features of her face were soft, not too prominent, and she looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure why.
“That can’t be fucking real. Is this real?”
The footage quickly changed to show her strapped to a metal table. Above her written in text had the words Day 1. The quick clips flickered to multiple angles, some even zoomed in to the act. The first was a knife slicing along her hip. Blood pooled over the laceration, spilling free before it quickly transitioned to a cigarette pressing into her stomach. The burn was one of many that covered the expanse from hip to hip. Her crimson covered body tried to jolt and twist under the straps, but she clearly couldn’t get free as he began to smear more blood from her wounds over her skin. All she could do was repeatedly try to fist her hands. As a brand lowered to her thigh, my fingers rose to push against my mouth. Multiple H’s were in different stages, some still sizzling her skin like acid. Her eyes rolled, and I could tell she was trying not to pass out from the pain. It had my head shaking for reasons I didn’t want to think about. Needs I refused to acknowledge in this moment.
When the scene changed back to the dungeon, I read Day 2 across the top. Another short clip played her getting beat. The masked man surged forward, screaming in her face as he lifted her from the floor, only to backhand her again. It was brutal. Not at all what I was used to seeing in the club environment, nor had I wanted to. There were better ways to bring pain. None involving a fist.
This was real. The torture had to be the pink he referred to. Red obviously was death. The big question was would it get that far? This show was graphic and up close, but was it consensual? It sure as fuck didn’t look like it, but women could take a lot if it suited their lifestyle. Some even enjoyed the atmosphere and torment. They needed it in ways most didn’t understand. I did, which helped me to better dissect the scenes as they played. But it wasn’t enough for me to know if I needed to step in.
A deep breath left me as the video disappeared. It couldn’t have been longer than ten seconds, but the impact to my brain wasn’t going away any time soon, and surprisingly it had nothing to do with the blood or cuts. The woman…she was beautiful. Healthy. She’d taken care of herself if you considered grooming, which I’d been trained to do. Her dark hair was styled with layers, and she had acrylic nails. A natural color with a hint of glitter that had glistened from the spotlight above. This was no junkie looking for cash for a quick fix. There could be something here. I wouldn’t know unless I saw more. Did I want to? I could close this window right now and never look back.
A groan left me. I was drunk. Too fucking drunk for my own good sometimes. I couldn’t walk away from this. Not if there was the smallest chance this was real, which it probably wasn’t. I had to see for myself. If it was fake, I could move on. I wasn’t in a rush. If not…
Handler1019: Interested?
I paused in answering the message as I began to work my way into his system. There were too many questions. Why wait to see what I was dealing with. If this was the same person who made that video, I’d see through those cameras he recorded her with. If not, and he was conning me, I’d know that too.
Handler1019: You’re still here. Yes or no?
VCTYNU: Yes.
Handler1019: Live stream stays on continuously for yearly unlimited access members only. 1 bit. Nonnegotiable. .10 bit for one show only. Still interested?
Fuck his set up was good. Any other person I would have already been in. I was losing my touch.
VCTYNU: Yes.
Handler1019: Prove it. .002 bit=One hundred bucks.
“What…the fuck?” I nearly shot to my feet as multiple windows from his device popped up on my screen. It sent my adrenaline soaring as I projected them to the massive monitors covering my living room wall. “He wasn’t lying. She does exist.”
