How powerful it was to sing for just one person. Billy finished his song, and Jerry, grateful, saw the royalty list for the songs double to a total of 20%—and that wasn't all. The music development plant was racing ahead in time to become a true library of talent that would endure, the hallmark of an artist. When he signed another yes to carry all his music through to 2015, it was, for lesser reasons, a major strategy for Warner Records, but a relief for everyone involved in Billy's operation.
Ahmet Ertegun got a salary raise. Jerry bumped his percentage to 5%; Billy took it to 21%; Michael Ochs grabbed 1%. The band as a whole snagged another 3% on sales. But none of that mattered; salaries went up. Faith surged. People now earned from the runaway sales of the records, and Billy gained the protection of a company dominating the entire film scene with its blockbuster franchises, animated shows, and indie movies. Billy added spice, a dash of success that drew crowds to Warner's labels in droves.
The clincher. That's why they demanded an album per year, plus two singles. Everything had to match that rhythm of quality and quantity. It wasn't a problem. Heavy for any artist, but it wasn't just a whisper in the wind when the songs hit the airwaves—and at the pace of creating two albums a year, he'd fulfill his obligations by 2010, when he'd leave the budding music market in silence.
Waking up under the arms of two sisters curled up asleep beside him, Billy realized the alcohol had been over the top; the girl was totally smashed, barely able to stand on her feet. Her arms flailed from side to side. He was addicted to control, adrenaline, and the fine women who devoted themselves to adoring him—a narcissistic streak that had emerged from some odd place.
He looked around.
He was in his apartment. The place where Nadi could bother him somehow—he just sighed in relief. He spotted the camera on his nightstand. Images flooded his mind: the girls beside him had performed every act he demanded, out of sheer compliance—from kisses and submission to bondage, their mouths on his manhood. The photos glowed on his camera, each one more indecent than the last; a strange desire crept into his mind as he watched the girls stretch lazily.
"Helen."
It was a soft brush of her name against his lips.
The girl was flushed red from head to toe. She bit her lip; her sister hid under the blankets, burning with shame. Now that the alcohol wasn't clouding her mind anymore. Her boyfriend couldn't find out—that was her first thought. Lucky she was with her sister.
Billy leaned toward Helen and kissed her lips with a sweetness masking deeper pleasure, while she ran her slender hands over his chest, feeling the power of his muscles beneath. Billy extended his hand, gathered Helen's hair in his fingers, and pulled gently, making it feel like a loving command. She moaned from the arousal igniting her thoughts. Meanwhile, her sister just wanted to erase the images racing through her mind; she recalled the feel of Billy's member in her rear, and something deep and primal took hold of her thoughts.
Her sister was kissed hard. She could only bite her lips and clench her hands into the sheets, trying to fend off the pleasure with her tensed body. In a second, Helen was flipped over and dominated again; Billy blocked her sister's view—she was sweating on the side, breathing heavily. Like a lightning bolt. Everything in her vibrated toward madness. Billy traced a finger over Helen's lip, and she sucked it eagerly, desperate for any release from the thoughts consuming every fiber of her being. That's why, when Billy slid into her depths with ease, she moaned loudly, her voice filling the room; the sex machine kicked into gear. Billy's skill at hitting women's weak spots was, in quotes, a drive to satisfy his partners to extremes—and it wasn't long before he realized she'd hit the dirt when he delicately brushed a finger over her nipples, ramping up the nervous pleasure flooding every feature of her face. A leap that drove her wild. Helen was used right in front of her sister, who watched every moment intently.
Billy finished with a quick thrust, and her sister breathed deeply, sightless. He grabbed a tie and bound her hands, ordering her not to move. Her sister breathed raggedly; Billy caressed her tenderly from her back down to her legs. Seeing the wetness glistening was a point that filled him with pleasure.
-Lick your sister. -
An order she obeyed in a second. Billy did everything he could to lube her tight rear entrance—with just a massage, it brought her to climax. Jennifer's body was erotic, one born with nerve endings made for love. Billy entered her, and she soaked the bed with a powerful gush. It was then, tasting Billy's semen inside her sister, that everything shut down in her; she let it all go to the max and unleashed every inhibition. She was used like a total instrument. She felt everything ten times over.
The sequence varied between the sisters, but both forgot their statuses and last names, swept into a fleeting moment where the only thing giving them reason was knowing life would be normal the next day. Within these walls that now witnessed it all, they only craved the heat of a man they deemed unattainable. The boring life they'd live afterward was an excuse to push everything to the limits their minds admired. Billy was always gentle, so tame in his actions that it all became an electrifying current of sex.
Helen, fully bound, posed for photos as ecstasy washed over her face. Jennifer, spreading her legs like any wanton woman. Both kissing, licking, and striking poses, where all dignity was cast aside, if those photos ever leaked. A web spread through their minds, knowing that if invited, they'd show up.
…
-What's this? - Helen asked.
-Two phones, which I'll use to call you. When they ring, make sure you're always available for me, - Billy commented from the doorway.
Helen couldn't help but shiver as she took the number.
-Only I'll call you, no one else. Know that my trust is in you, - Billy added, planting chaste kisses on the girls' lips. Two sisters who seemed to have more than just a nod of approval—if it was Helen's inexperience, now it was just business. The distance would lead to idealizing something it wasn't. From there, it was easy.
Would you like me to adjust the phrasing for a more vivid style or tone down any explicit elements?
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