~Miranda POV~
I slumped into my seat in the lecture hall, the professor droning on about economic theories that felt a million miles away from my real life. My notebook was half-filled with doodles instead of notes—little hearts and question marks, mostly because my mind kept wandering to the mess at home. "Hey, Miranda, you okay?" my friend Lisa whispered from the seat next to me, her ponytail swinging as she leaned over.
"Yeah, just tired," I muttered back, forcing a smile. "Aunt Carla's been acting weird lately. Ever since Mom and Dad... you know, the accident six months ago, she's barely around. Leaves me notes about bills and stuff. I think she's stressed about money."
Lisa nodded sympathetically. "That sucks. You studying for the exams tonight? We could grab coffee after class."
"Sounds good," I said, though I wasn't sure. Money was tight; even a latte felt like a splurge. The professor wrapped up, and everyone started packing up. I shoved my books into my bag, chatting with Lisa about the upcoming test. "I swear, if I don't pass macroeconomics, I'm done for."
"You'll ace it," she laughed. "You're the smart one here."
We filed out into the hallway, the buzz of students filling the air. It was a typical Thursday—sunny, a bit chilly, nothing out of the ordinary. I waved goodbye to a couple of classmates and headed toward the gates, thinking about the long walk home. That's when I saw them: a line of shiny black cars, the kind you see in movies, pulled up right outside. Lamborghinis? Ferraris? Whatever they were, they screamed money.
Two men in sharp suits stepped out from the lead car and approached me. One was tall with a buzz cut, the other shorter but built like a tank. "Miranda Hayes?" the tall one asked, his voice flat, like he was reading from a script.
"Uh, yeah?" I stopped, clutching my bag tighter. "Who are you?"
"Your aunt sent us," he said. "Family emergency. She needs you right away."
My heart skipped. Aunt Carla? What could be wrong? She hadn't mentioned anything this morning. "Is she okay? What happened?"
"No time to explain," the shorter one cut in, glancing around. "Get in the car, miss."
I hesitated, looking back at the school. A few students were staring, whispering. "Let me call her first."
"No need," the tall guy said, stepping closer. His hand grazed my arm, firm but not rough—yet. "She's waiting. Come on."
Panic bubbled up. This didn't feel right. "Wait, no—let go!" I yanked away and screamed, "Help! Somebody!"
A teacher paused nearby, frowning, but then his eyes flicked to the cars, the suits, and he just... backed off. Students murmured but no one moved. "It's probably fine," I heard one say. "Looks official."
The men didn't wait. The short one grabbed my elbow tighter this time. "Don't make a scene, kid." They hustled me toward the car, my feet dragging on the pavement. I screamed again, but it was like everyone was frozen. The door opened, and they shoved me inside. The leather seats were cold, the tinted windows blocking out the world.
"Drive," the tall one said to the driver as he slid in beside me. The car purred to life, pulling away smoothly.
"What the hell is this?" I yelled, fumbling for my phone in my bag. "Let me out! This is kidnapping!"
"Calm down," the short guy said from the front seat. "Your aunt's orders. Sit tight."
I hit dial on Aunt Carla's number, but the call wouldn't connect. "No signal? How—" I glanced at the men; they ignored me, eyes forward. The city blurred past—campus giving way to highways, then winding roads I didn't recognize. My heart pounded. "Where are we going? Tell me!"
"You'll see," the driver grunted. That was it. No more talking.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. I banged on the window, yelled until my throat hurt, but the cars were soundproof or something. Finally, we turned onto a private drive, gates swinging open automatically. A massive mansion loomed ahead—white stone, fountains, the works. Like a palace from a fairy tale, but this felt more like a nightmare.
The car stopped, and they pulled me out. "Inside," the tall one said, escorting me up the steps. The door opened to a huge foyer, marble floors gleaming under chandeliers. And there she was—Aunt Carla, standing with a suitcase in hand, her face lit up like she'd won the lottery.
"Aunt Carla!" I ran to her, relief flooding me. "Oh my God, what's going on? These guys grabbed me—"
She hugged me briefly, but it felt off—stiff. "Miranda, honey, it's okay. Everything's fine now."
"Fine? They kidnapped me from school!" I pulled back, searching her face. She looked... pleased? And that's when I noticed the suitcase wasn't hers. It was stuffed with cash—bundles of bills peeking out.
Then a man stepped forward from the shadows. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and a jaw that could cut glass. His eyes—piercing blue—locked onto mine, and something in them made my stomach twist. Not fear, exactly, but... intensity. Like he was sizing me up, hungry.
"Welcome, Miranda," he said, his voice smooth, deep. "I'm Albert Mondragon. And you're mine now."
Aunt Carla smiled coldly, patting the suitcase. "Deal's done, Albert. She's all yours."
"What?" I whispered, the world tilting.
The men in suits melted away, leaving just us three. Albert's gaze never left me, that predatory glint sharpening. "Let's get you settled," he murmured.
I backed up a step. "Aunt Carla, what did you do?"
She shrugged, zipping the suitcase. "What I had to. Debts don't pay themselves." And with that, she turned toward the door, cash in hand.
"No—wait!" But she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.
Albert chuckled softly. "Feisty. I like that." He stepped closer, his cologne wrapping around me—musk and money. "Don't worry. You'll learn to love it here."
My pulse raced. This couldn't be real. But his eyes said otherwise.
The foyer felt smaller suddenly, the air thicker. I glanced at the doors, but they were guarded now—subtly, but there. Albert extended a hand. "Come. Dinner's waiting."
I didn't take it. "Let me go. Please."
His smile widened. "Oh, sweetheart. That's not how this works."
We stood there, frozen in that moment, his presence overwhelming. What had Aunt Carla gotten me into?
The rest of the evening blurred. He led me to a dining room, massive table set for two. "Sit," he said, pulling out a chair.
I did, legs shaky. Food appeared—steak, wine—but I couldn't eat. "Why me?" I asked finally, voice small.
Albert sipped his wine, eyes on me. "Your aunt owed me a lot. This settles it."
"Owed you? For what?"
"Gambling, bad habits." He leaned back. "She's been in deep for months. Offered you as... collateral."
I stared. "You can't just buy people."
"In my world? I can." His tone was casual, like discussing the weather.
"Your world? Who are you?"
"Tech billionaire. Former... entertainer." He smirked. "Adult films, if you must know."
A porn star? Ex-porn star billionaire? My cheeks burned. "This is insane. I'll call the police."
"Your phone's jammed. And by the time anyone notices, it'll be too late." He set down his glass.
"Relax, Miranda. I'm not a monster. Just a man with tastes."
"Tastes?" I echoed.
He stood, circling the table. "You'll see. Starting tonight."
My breath hitched. "No. I won't."
But he just laughed, low and dangerous. "Oh, you will."
We finished—or rather, he did. I picked at my food, mind racing for escape. Later, he showed me to a bedroom upstairs—plush, king-sized bed, views of gardens. "Your room," he said. "For now."
"For now?" I backed away as he entered, closing the door.
"Until you earn privileges." His eyes darkened. "Strip."
"What? No!"
"Suit yourself." He approached, hands gentle but insistent, unbuttoning my shirt. I froze, then slapped his hand away.
"Stop!"
He paused, amused. "Feisty, like I said." But he didn't stop—peeled off my top, then bra, exposing my breasts. They heaved with my breaths, nipples hardening in the cool air.
"Beautiful," he murmured, cupping one, thumb circling the peak. I gasped, a traitorous spark igniting low in my belly.
"Please," I whispered, but it came out weak.
He knelt, unzipping my jeans, sliding them down with panties. My pussy bare now, trimmed bush above slick folds—I was wet, damn it, from fear or something else?
Albert's breath hot on my skin. "Virgin?" he asked, fingers tracing my thighs.
I nodded, trembling.
"Good." His tongue flicked out, parting my lips, delving into my pussy. Slow, wet laps, circling my clit, then thrusting inside, tasting me deep. I moaned despite myself, hands in his hair.
He sucked, tongue fucking me rhythmically, until my legs buckled. "Come for me," he growled.
I did, shattering, juices coating his mouth.
He stood, wiping his lips. "Lesson one."
Then he undid his pants, his dick springing free—thick, veined, hard as steel. "Your turn."
I shook my head, but he guided me to knees. "Open."
My mouth covered his dick, lips stretching around the head, tongue swirling the shaft as he pushed deeper, hitting my throat. He groaned, thrusting gently. "Suck harder."
I did, bobbing, tasting salt, until he pulled out. "Not yet."
He lifted me to the bed, positioning. "Ready?"
"No," but my body arched.
His dick pressed my entrance, thick head parting my pussy lips, inching in slow. It stretched me, burning then pleasure as he filled me completely, balls against my ass.
He thrust, raw, deep, my breasts bouncing with each pound. "Fuck, tight," he grunted.
I cried out, coming again as he spilled inside, we lay there, panting. But this was just the start.