Peep Show

by Starling, Isabella

  Tell me your fucking name, doll.

  It’s Cleo…

  That’s beautiful. You know I’m not going to use it until you’re a dripping, shaky little mess for me? I’ll only use it to remind you that you’re human after you’re so spent, you feel like a happy little fucktoy for my dick.

  Fuck, stop, please. Too much.

  Not too much. Just enough, little doll.

  Will you talk to me again?

  What do you mean?

  This… this isn’t just a one-time thing, right? You’ll be here tomorrow.

  And the day after.

  And the day after?

  Until you get sick of me.

  I won’t…

  And then some more, because I know you need to be forced, pretty little thing.

  I have to go to work. Message me later?

  Take your phone with you so we can talk.

  Ok…

  I thought about her slipping into a pretty summer dress, her panties getting a visible wet spot as she made her way to work. I thought about her juices dripping down her legs as she made her way to town, holding the bus rail and thinking about me forcing myself on her. She played the role of an innocent little girl but she was really anything but. She was perfect. So slutty, dirty and depraved but still so innocent, still so perfectly moldable. I was going to make the perfect little toy out of her. I was finally going to get what my cock wanted all along. She was so, so perfect.

  She messaged me from her station. She worked in some sort of shop, but she wouldn’t tell me more. She even sent me a picture.

  A cloudy day outside, humid and hot as hell. I caught a glimpse of her long, pale leg as she rode the bus to work, just like I predicted. Her nails were a pretty shade of pink holding onto the rail. I even recognized the bus. I used to take a very similar one to work daily before I made it big. I still remembered the scratchy fabric of its seats, the pattern reminding me of something psychedelic.

  No tan for you, little doll?

  No. I never get away for long enough to get one.

  You need a vacation?

  I need you inside me.

  Fuck! My cock twitched at her words.

  That could be arranged, slut… you just have to beg real pretty to convince me.

  Would you listen to me beg for you?

  My cock stiffened at the thought of her doing just that.

  You want to record an audio for me?

  No…

  My mind was racing.

  You want to hear me?

  Now?

  Not now, maybe sometime later…

  Now or never, little doll. Get to your bathroom, get fucking ready for me. I’ll call you. Give me your number.

  No reply for several excruciatingly long minutes. And then finally, another message. Her number.

  I was fucking glad it was my day off. Otherwise I would’ve blown my load for her in my fucking office, not giving a shit if anyone saw it.

  I dialed her number and listened to the monotonous ringing. She didn’t pick up for the longest time, and when she finally did, her sweet voice came in in breathy, desperate little moans.

  “Hello?” she said softly, just one little word along with a soft little gasp from those perfect lips.

  I couldn’t say a word, and she moaned in protest when I remained quiet.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please talk to me, I need to hear you…”

  “Where are you?” I asked her roughly, and she yelped when she heard me. I could almost feel how turned on she was. I wanted her on my fingers. I wanted her to rub herself on my hand with the force of her own hips until she came all over my fingers, never breaking eye contact.

  “In-in the bathroom,” she breathed.

  “Are you going to play for me?” I growled, and she gasped again.

  “Play now?” she asked softly.

  “Right now,” I said. My voice was making her groan, and I could almost picture those little fingers I’d seen gripping the railing in that bus. Long, pale, with pretty candy floss pink nails. God, she was fucking perfect.

  “I’ll play,” she said. “Just hurry, I don’t want someone to catch me…”

  “Taste yourself,” I ordered her, and she gasped again. “Fucking now, doll. Tell me if your fingers taste as sweet as I imagine they do…”

  I did everything he told me to. He made me come in that tiny stall like I’d never come before.

  Yes, I’d had boyfriends. A couple, nothing too serious except for a guy who was so painfully boring I couldn’t even make myself fake it for him. They’d made me come plenty of times. It had always been easy for me, and every man I’d been with loved making me squirm. But in the end, all of those shitty relationships fell apart. It was just never enough. Never enough to satisfy me and make me feel full and complete. I always craved so much more.

  The online stuff was supposed to be where I let this side of me out. Where I could be anonymous, and at the same time, barer than I’d ever been.

  It was the reason my last relationship ended, too.

  He found out about my recordings, and told me I either had to stop posting them, or he’d end things with me. For me, the decision was clear. I was going to stop seeing him eventually anyway, I’d just never gotten the guts to actually tell him it was over. So off he went, and I was alone again… Just me and my microphone, and all the strangers I made explode so many miles away.

  I eventually moved my postings to a place more local, because the lust I felt for a real man was getting much harder to ignore. I’d gotten more and more lax with the details I gave away about myself. I lived in a big city anyway, and I was sure no one was going to find me by some information scattered around on the internet.

  Even though I actually really, really wanted them to.

  This fantasy, playing with non-consent, had been on my mind non-stop lately. I wanted it so bad. And I knew that wanting it in itself meant it wasn’t actually non-consent. But there was something else about it, something so addicting, so delicious, I just couldn’t resist.

  I’d role-played with a couple of the boyfriends I’d had. But nothing like this. They’d be freaked out if they knew the extent of my obsession.

  I tended to date nice guys. Safe guys. Guys who didn’t even suspect what was hiding in my head. By the time we broke up, they still didn’t have a clue about what I really wanted. Just the way I liked it. Clean. Simple. Easy to break off.

  I’d met some men on the internet, of course. Guys who got me off with pictures or their voices, or their dirty words. But I’d never felt myself fall so completely, head over heels in love with a man like I did with this one. And I didn’t even know his name yet, which felt strange as hell.

  I sat in that bathroom stall with my fingers up to the knuckles in my pussy, and I came all over the palm of my hand, my fingers slipping out as they brought me to an earth-shattering orgasm. The hand that held my phone shook so much it nearly clattered to the floor.

  “That was too much,” I breathed into the receiver. “Too much for me…”

  “Good girl.” I could tell from his breathy, low growl that I’d gotten him excited too. I wondered if he had his thick, throbbing cock in his hand, and I wondered if he’d show it to me if I asked nicely. I wanted to see it so badly.

  Just then, I heard the bathroom door open and someone stroll in wearing high heels. They click-clacked on the floor as I desperately cut the call and tried to make myself invisible in the stall.

  Another set of footsteps followed the first and I heard giggling and chattering at the sinks. I blushed deeply as I put my phone away, and tried to exit the stall and not look as suspicious as I felt.

  I approached the sinks and swung my purse over my shoulder, turning the water on to wash my hands. Two of my co-workers, Jacqueline and Grace, stood by the sinks giving me nasty glances.

  “Good morning,” I said, and they muttered something back.

  They spoke in hushed tones as I washed my hands and patted my face
with a paper towel. I felt like a proper mess. My dress was riding too high, my neck felt hot, and my nipples were so hard they were rubbing all over the fabric of my dress, making me itch for another dirty phone call. I wasn’t wearing a bra—the dress had an open back, and I didn’t want the straps to show. My tits were too big for it, but I thought it looked okay. I’d checked in the mirror several times before making my way to work.

  “Oh, Cleo?” Grace called after me as I made my way outside.

  I stopped and turned to face her. Both girls were wearing their bitchiest expressions, glaring at me as I fidgeted nervously in front of them.

  “Was there something you wanted?” I prompted Grace, and she just shot me a nasty look.

  She was technically my supervisor, even though the boss didn’t care about that. He was a nice, fatherly man in his fifties who really had a soft spot for me. Jacqueline was his daughter, and Grace was her best friend, and they loved nothing more than to pick on me. I’d asked myself many times how a man as nice as Mr. Featherstone had managed to produce offspring as thoroughly annoying as Jackie.

  “Yes, in fact there was,” Grace said with a syrupy-sweet voice. “You’re going to have to dress more appropriately, Cleo.”

  “What?” I stared at her wide-eyed. “My dress is only an inch above the knee.”

  “That’s not the main problem,” Jackie said, looking meaningfully at my chest.

  I looked down at the front of my dress. My nipples were so hard they showed through the white fabric, stretching and straining painfully under the cotton. I crossed my arms self-consciously, blushing so deep it felt like my cheeks and neck were going to catch on fire any second.

  “I’d let you borrow my cardigan,” Grace said in a faux-thoughtful tone. “But I don’t think we’re the same size, darling.”

  I hated them. Their nasty, girlish laughter, their mean ways.

  I wasn’t that big, but I definitely had wide hips and a big butt, and my tits made me broader than I wanted to be. But my waist was small and I was neither tall nor short. Most days, I felt pretty good about myself. I knew men liked me. I’d gotten attention from them every day of my life. But girls… they’d always hated me and picked on me. I was used to it, and I shouldn’t have let a couple of nasty bitches like Grace and Jackie put me down. But I felt like a teenager again with them around. The oddball with no clique to belong in, the girl who ate her lunches in the bathroom.

  They say things change after high school, but when you work with people like Jackie and Grace, they will make sure you feel every blow you did back in the school cafeteria. I hated them for it.

  I left the bathroom in a hurry and tried to spend the rest of my workday quietly. I managed to leave on my lunch break to buy a pastel pink cardigan in a clothing store down the street. It went nicely with my dress, so I ignored Grace’s stifled laughter as I made my way back into the store after my break.

  My mind was preoccupied, anyway. I was busy thinking about him… the mystery man who’d made me come on the phone before my workday even began properly. He was claiming my mind, and even though I couldn’t find a free moment to send him a message, he was in my thoughts all day long.

  I worked in a bookstore in a trendy part of town. We were popular because Mr. Featherstone still handpicked most of our selection, and he had good taste. Our customers ranged from people who’d been coming into Pages for decades to hipsters who loved it because it happened to be trendy. It was always busy, and I loved it. I’d always worked best when I was busy.

  It was about ten minutes before my shift ended, and for once, my end of the store was less busy. I used the chance to pull out my phone and check for messages from my mystery man.

  He’d sent me a single picture, and my fingers trembled as I opened the message.

  It was shot from above, him sitting on a chair, stroking his cock through a pair of sweatpants. He was shirtless, and his chest and stomach were toned so perfectly I thought it must’ve been a stolen photo. But somehow, I knew it wasn’t. I looked at his lips in the upper corner, quirked in a smirk. I knew it was him, because his voice fit in perfectly with that picture. And it made me wet as hell.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  I nearly dropped my phone in my hurry to put it away. I glanced up at a man standing before me. He had light brown hair, a little messy, some scruff on his prominent jaw. He was dressed well, and very handsome. My heart skipped a worried beat.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I was just taking a break; my shift is almost over.”

  “I won’t tell if you don’t.” He winked at me, and I smiled at him uncomfortably.

  “Did you need help?” I asked him awkwardly, and he explained he was looking for a gift for his sister.

  I spent the next ten minutes helping him look for the perfect book for her. He mentioned she liked thrillers and plot twists, so I made sure to find him something I personally enjoyed. But he kept going on and on, until I started looking at the clock above us meaningfully.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he laughed. “I’m not keeping you, am I?”

  “Well, my shift is over now,” I said with a smile. “But I’m sure my colleague could help you out with anything you might need.”

  “Well.” He grinned at me. “I must say, I was very much enjoying the way you were helping me in particular.”

  I blushed as I looked at the floor. I did get the odd client hitting on me, but I still hadn’t gotten used to it yet. I kept thinking of those bitches’ comments in the bathroom, and I crossed my arms in front of my body self-consciously.

  “Are you embarrassed?” he asked me softly. “You’re beautiful. You shouldn’t hide like that.”

  “I do have to get going,” I said, snapping back to strictly professional. I didn’t need another reason for Jacqueline to hate me and take it to her father. “I can ask my colleague to help you further, if you want.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

  I gave him a tense smile and went behind the counter to pick up my things. It weirded me out when he followed closely behind, and I put my bag over my shoulder and closed the till, readying it for the girl who was coming in for the afternoon shift.

  “You seem very nervous,” the man told me.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” I replied. “Just have to get going now. Have to feed my cat. Thank you for your business.”

  “What’s your cat’s name?” he asked, and I gave him a strange look.

  “Casper,” I finally replied, then made an attempt to leave.

  When I brushed past him, his strong fingers wrapped around my arm.

  “Wait,” he said. I looked at him like a deer in headlights.

  “Please let go,” I said calmly. “I need to go home.”

  “I just wanted to get your number,” he said with a winning smile of pearly-whites. He really looked like a model. “In case I need your help again.”

  He laughed, but I felt uneasy. There was a vibe he was giving off that made me really uncomfortable. I just wanted to get away from him.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to do that,” I said simply, managing to get away from him. “I hope you have a nice day, sir.”

  I felt his eyes on my back as I made my way out of the bookstore.

  I couldn’t for the life of me get my mind off her. She was everywhere, infiltrating every thought, demanding I give her my attention. I spent the day after she ended the call obsessing about her. I listened to every single recording of hers, went through every comment, every post she’d ever made on the website. It got me so fucking hard I tried messaging her twice, just because I fucking needed to get off.

  No fucking reply.

  I knew she was at work but it still pissed me off. I wanted her to be mine. Completely at my mercy, doing only what I instructed her to do. I knew it was stupid, but I couldn’t help myself. Something about her suggested how much she wanted to be controlled, and I wanted to be the man to give her that.
/>
  Finally, I sent her another message, this time to her phone. She responded in seconds, telling me she was just leaving work and she’d be alone in a few minutes. It made my dick hard instantly, the thought of her desperate to get back home to play with me making me want her more than ever.

  I want to see you.

  I fired off the message, my fingers itching to touch my growing cock, desperate for her to say yes.

  See me?

  Yeah, video. I want to see you come for me.

  I don’t want to see you.

  She took me by surprise, and I re-read the message a couple of times before I replied.

  Why not, doll? You’ve already seen some parts.

  Because I’m scared it’ll ruin this. I don’t want to. But you can see me, if you want to.

  How the fuck was I supposed to say no to that? She was ready to show me everything, and there was no way I’d deny myself that pleasure.

  We went through some technicalities and both set up accounts so we could watch each other. I set up my laptop at my desk and called her, my heart pounding as I waited for her to answer. I positioned myself so she couldn’t see anything but the bottom part of my body, my boxers and my hard cock straining against them. If she asked me to turn my camera on, I wouldn’t show her my face. I was a dick, but I wasn’t going to push her into that until she wanted it so badly she begged for it.

  She answered the call. My screen filled up with her room. A simple bedroom, decorated with touches that suggested she lived alone, because no fucking man would live in a bedroom that girly. A cute tabby cat was sleeping behind her on the bed, occasionally twitching his tail.

  But I didn’t give a shit about any of that. I only had eyes for her, my beautiful girl.

  She sat at her desk, wearing a dress much too see-through to keep me sane. She was beautiful, fucking stunning. Her face wasn’t classically beautiful, but gorgeous despite that. Her lips were almost too big, her nose slightly crooked. So were her two front teeth when she smiled nervously. She had long black hair that almost touched her hips. She was a fucking vision, and my cock stiffened impossibly as I stared at her.

  “Turn your sound on,” she whispered, and her lips parted in the most delicious, shy way.