MY NETORI SYSTEM

Wednesday night pressed down on Atlanta with a heavy stillness—the kind that came before a storm. The rain had held off all day, leaving the air thick and charged, the city lights below the condo windows sharp against the dark. David stood on the balcony with a glass of water, looking out over the skyline that now fed his empire. The numbers in the Codex had grown again today, but the weight of tomorrow’s hearing for Mark Harper hung in the air like the humidity.

He had spent the day in quiet preparation with the circle.

Elena had arrived first in the morning—black yoga pants and oversized tee, hair in a messy bun, laptop open to the risk matrix. "Mark’s hearing is tomorrow. Lawyer has everything—phone records, credit card statements, dummy receipts. I’ve layered the alibis through the trust—every ’client dinner’ documented with timestamps and amounts that match the deposits you routed. If they push, the irrevocable clauses protect the accounts. But he’s angry. He called mutual friends yesterday asking if I’m ’seeing someone.’ Suspicion is at 82%."

Sophia had joined mid-morning—tailored slacks and silk blouse, tablet in hand. "Brian’s mediation was yesterday. He looked broken. His lawyer pushed hard on the house, but the trusts held—your name as advisor, irrevocable beneficiary clauses. He can’t touch it. But he’s emotional. More referrals keep coming—$310k policy closed today to keep him distracted. He keeps texting mutual friends asking if I’m ’seeing someone.’ Suspicion at 68%."

Victoria had come in the afternoon—emerald blouse and jeans, pitch deck open on her laptop. "Caleb’s pitch is tomorrow. He’s demanding I bring the ’advisor’s perspective.’ I’ve planted your name deeper in the deck—strategic asset protection angle with the Vinings case study as example. PI report named you directly. He’s rattled—confronted me again last night. If we get you in the room, we steer the $200M round. Suspicion at 65%."

Lauren had arrived later—navy sweater and leggings, hedge statement in hand. "Derek’s texts are constant. I stalled with ’charity planning.’ Hedge position yielding $8,900/month—your trust holds the slice. Add-on commitment signed—$46M total position. I can push for 3.25% advisory if we time it right. Suspicion at 48%."

Nadia had come in the evening—red sweater and jeans, divorce mediator notes open. "Ethan’s asking direct questions. Divorce mediator is tomorrow. We’re drafting no-fault, asset-split minimized via prenup clauses you flagged. Suspicion at 38%."

Priya had joined shortly after—gray blouse and slacks, trust documents spread out. "Raj questioned the advisory fees again yesterday. Told him ’tax optimization.’ Sixth fee posted—$19,600. Portfolio reroute complete. Suspicion at 32%."

Rebecca had been the last to arrive—black hoodie and leggings, condo photos on her phone. "Closing April 25. Inspection perfect. I’ve marked every room for when you want to claim it solo. Paul’s golf trips extended—no suspicion spike. Suspicion at 12%."

David had listened to every word, absorbing the risk matrix, the alibis, the reroutes, the timelines. The empire was growing fast—$4.79M in assets, $2.41M projected annual cash flow, Beta Tax yield hitting record levels—but the husbands were stirring. Mark’s hearing tomorrow was the first real test.

The women had left one by one, each with a soft kiss and a promise to text updates. Now the condo was quiet again, the rain finally starting to fall in steady sheets against the windows.

David’s phone buzzed with the group chat.

Elena 🔥 (9:12 p.m.): Mark is pacing the house. He keeps looking at me like he knows something. I’m ready for tomorrow. Dummy receipts are layered perfectly.

Victoria (9:28 p.m.): Caleb is rehearsing the pitch again tonight. He asked me to stay late to "review the advisor slide." I’m planting your name deeper.

Lauren (9:41 p.m.): Derek wants to talk tomorrow. I’m stalling. Hedge fee posted—$8,900 in your trust.

Sophia (9:55 p.m.): Brian is drinking. He keeps asking if I’m happy. More referrals coming to keep him busy.

Nadia (10:07 p.m.): Ethan is suspicious. Mediator tomorrow.

Priya (10:19 p.m.): Raj is quiet but watching. Fee posted.

Rebecca (10:32 p.m.): Condo keys ready. Paul is golfing. I’m touching myself thinking about you.

David replied to the group:

David: Tomorrow is the hearing. Elena—stay strong. We shield everything. Victoria—get me in the pitch room. Lauren—keep Derek distracted. The rest—alibis tight. We move forward no matter what.

He set the phone down and headed to the bedroom. Tonight was for one woman.

Rebecca had asked for her turn.

She arrived at 10:58 p.m.—black dress hugging her curves, red lace visible at the neckline and hem, heels clicking softly as she stepped inside. The moment the door closed she let the dress fall to the floor, standing there in the red lace bra and thong, garters clipped to sheer stockings, freckles flushed with anticipation.

"Paul’s golf trip extended again," she whispered, walking straight to him. "He thinks I’m at a spa day. I’m leaking you from last time. I’ve been touching myself in the empty condo all day thinking about you claiming it tonight."

David pulled her close—kissed her hard, claiming. She moaned into his mouth, hands sliding under his shirt to trace the lines of his chest and abs, body already trembling.

He walked her to the bedroom without breaking the kiss—dress left abandoned on the floor. Laid her gently on the bed. Stood back for a moment, letting his eyes drink her in: the way the red lace strained against her full breasts, nipples hard and dark through the fabric, flat stomach quivering, thick thighs pressed together, thong already soaked through at the crotch.

"Show me," he said quietly.

Rebecca bit her lip—reached down and pulled the thong aside, spreading her thighs wide. Her pussy glistened—swollen, slick, clit peeking out begging for attention.

"Been like this since your voice note," she breathed. "Paul called earlier. I answered while fingering myself. He had no idea."

David knelt between her legs. Kissed her inner thigh—slow, deliberate—then the other. Blew cool air over her clit. She whimpered—hips bucking.

He licked once—long, flat stroke from entrance to clit. She gasped—back arching off the mattress.

"Better than Paul?"

"Fuck—yes—he’s small—quick—comes too fast—I fake every orgasm—think of you every single time—"

He ate her ravenously—tongue circling her clit in tight spirals, sucking gently then harder, two fingers sliding inside, curling against her front wall with steady pressure. She rocked against his face—moaning brokenly, hands fisting the sheets.

"Tell me more."

"He never eats me—says it’s too messy—I lie there frustrated after he rolls over—touch myself thinking about your mouth—"

He sucked her clit hard. She shattered—sudden, violent. Squirting across his chin and chest, thighs trembling uncontrollably, a sharp cry tearing from her throat. He didn’t stop—kept licking through the aftershocks, fingers stroking slow until she was whining, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his head.

"David—please—too much—"

He rose—unzipped. Cock thick, hard, veins standing out, pre-cum beading at the tip. Rubbed the head through her soaked folds—coating himself, teasing her entrance.

"Beg."

"Please—fuck me—fill me—ruin me for him—breed me while he’s on the golf course—"

He slammed in—one brutal thrust. Buried to the hilt. She screamed—pleasure-pain, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Fuck—yes—so full—so deep—stretching me like he never could—"

He pounded—deep, rhythmic. Bed creaking under them. Her breasts bouncing in the red lace bra—he ripped it off, sucked one nipple hard while thrusting. She came again—clamping around him, squirting down his shaft and onto the sheets.

"Tell me."

"He’s nothing—small—boring—I fake everything—you own this pussy—fuck—"

He angled deeper—hit her spot over and over. She came a third time—violent, whole body convulsing, pussy milking him greedily. He didn’t stop—railed through it, balls tightening.

Flipped her onto her stomach—ass up, face pressed to the sheets. Slammed back in from behind. Spanked her ass—hard. Red handprint bloomed on freckled skin.

"Beg for it."

"Please—fill me—breed me—make me carry your baby while Paul’s putting balls in holes—"

He pounded faster—deep, punishing strokes. Balls slapping her clit wetly. She reached back—rubbed her clit furiously while he railed her.

Came again—screaming into the pillow, pussy clamping like a vice, squirting hard onto the mattress.

He buried deep—groaned loud. Came hard—thick, endless pulses flooding her. She whimpered—clenching, drawing out every drop, body shaking with aftershocks.

He stayed inside her—twitching, leaking—then pulled out slow. Watched his cum drip from her swollen pussy—thick white trails down her thighs.

She rolled over—breathless, wrecked. Pulled him down for a slow, filthy kiss—tasting herself on his tongue.

"Again?" she whispered.

He laughed low. "All night."

They fucked for hours.

Second round: her riding him—slow, grinding rolls at first, then frantic bouncing, tits in his face. He sucked her nipples while she rode—moaning how Paul never lasted long enough for her to come on top. She shattered twice—squirting across his stomach—before he flipped her, finished in missionary—flooding her again.

Third: prone-bone on the rug—face down, ass up. Slow, deep thrusts. Whispering in her ear how she’d never go back to Paul’s bed. She begged—sobbing with pleasure—came so hard she squirted onto the floor. He pulled out at the last second—came across her ass, watched it run down her skin.

Fourth: shower. Bent her over—fucked her against the tile. Water cascading. She came quietly—whispering his name like prayer. He filled her one last time—slow pulses—then held her as she trembled.

Fifth: back on the bed. Missionary again—slow, eye-locked, deep. She came hard—squirting, begging to be bred. He flooded her—deep, claiming.

They collapsed—sweaty, tangled, breathing ragged. She curled against his chest—hand tracing lazy circles on his stomach.

"I’m filing next month," she whispered. "After the condo closes. I don’t want Paul anymore. I only want you."

David stroked her hair. "Good girl. We’ll make it clean. The empire takes care of its own."

Codex pinged softly in the dark:

[Rebecca – Loyalty: 100%. Full Claim Reinforced.]

[Cash Deposit: $85,000 – "Solo Maintenance + Condo Closing Acceleration Bonus."]

[Liquid Net Worth: $1,587,342]

[Harem Loyalty Average: 100%. All Seven Fully Locked.]

[New Passive: "Locked Circle (Lv.1)" – All seven wives grant permanent 25% reduction in husband suspicion growth rate.]

Group chat lit up as they lay there:

Elena 🔥: How was she?

Sophia: Brian’s mediation tomorrow. Shields ready.

Victoria: Caleb’s pitch is April 18. Your name’s prominent.

Lauren: Derek’s texts increasing. Hedge fee posted.

Nadia: Ethan’s asking questions. Mediator Thursday.