Peep Show

by Starling, Isabella

  I did what she asked, and my microphone crackled to life. I saw her gasp when she heard some noise on my part.

  “Hello, doll,” I said, and she shook in her seat, just from hearing my voice. What a delicious little slut.

  “I’m scared,” she said, her eyes dancing across the room. “Be nice to me, okay?”

  “I’m always nice,” I replied, and she rolled her eyes, giggling. It made me chuckle, too. “What do you want, little doll? Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

  “Make me come.” Her voice was soft. “Make me come, please. I need to, please.”

  “Please what?” I asked. She looked nervous. We’d never really settled on what she was supposed to call me, and I could see her nerves getting the better of her.

  “Please…” She twitched in her seat in time with her cat in the background. It was almost adorable. “Please… sir.”

  “Good girl,” I muttered. “Pull your skirt up, over your knees, above your panties.”

  She looked nervous, so I added, “You don’t have to show me. I just want to watch your face while you’re doing it.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, and I watched her arms working and her breaths get heavier as she parted her legs for me.

  “Touch yourself,” I told her. “The inside of your thighs, doll. Stroke them. Gently.”

  She whimpered the second her fingers made contact, I could tell. Her eyes fluttered closed and she got so lost in herself I didn’t even know if she remembered I was there. She was such a horny fucking thing, and watching her like that, her pretty body just out of view, made me want to pin her against a wall and fuck her so senseless she wouldn’t recover for days.

  “Good girl,” I said. “Don’t touch that pretty little pussy yet. Just your thighs. Pinch yourself if it gets to be too much for you.”

  She moaned so loudly, I wondered if she had neighbors to hear her. I wanted them to. I wanted her to debase herself completely, just because I fucking wanted it. To be at my mercy, my pretty fucktoy to play with however the fuck I wanted. I could hear myself grunting out loud, and it sent her into a frenzy. I wondered if she’d have bruises the next day from pinching too hard, and I made a mental note to ask her to show me the next day.

  “Get yourself really fucking close,” I grunted at her. “Really, really close. And then open your eyes and show me how desperate you are for me, little doll.”

  She moaned softly and I watched her hands moving under the skirt of her dress. My own hand found its way into my boxers and I stroked my cock until it was throbbing, ready to burst open with the seed I wanted to spill for her. God, she was perfect, just like that, with her legs spread for me and her eyes closed so tightly, begging for more directions. I wanted to play with her until she hated me, push her right to the edge and then bring her back so many times she forgot what it felt like to come until I finally let her have it.

  Perfect girl. My girl, my little doll.

  “I’m going to come see you,” I told her, and her hand stopped working for a second as she opened her eyes to stare at me.

  “W-what?” she stuttered.

  “Back to fucking work, doll,” I growled. “Did I tell you to fucking stop? Keep working it. Move your fingers between your legs. Work my fucking cunt over those panties.”

  She whimpered and touched her pussy. I could tell from the way her whole body melted against those fingers.

  “How wet are you?” I asked.

  “Wet,” she whispered.

  “How fucking wet?” My voice was nothing but a growl.

  “Too wet,” she said.

  “Too wet for what?”

  “Too wet for this… this is crazy.”

  The shrill sound of a cellphone interrupted our conversation and she jerked nervously when she heard it, then started giggling as she picked her phone up.

  “Saved by the bell, doll,” I told her with a grin, my fingers still lazily stroking my aching cock. “Answer it.”

  “No,” she begged, looking right at the camera. “Don’t make me.”

  “I’m making you,” I grinned. “Answer.”

  “I don’t even know this number,” she said, her smile fading.

  “Answer it now,” I prompted her. “Right here, right in front of me. Do it.”

  Her hands shook as she brought the phone to her ear and answered. I stared at her.

  “Hello?” Her voice was shaky.

  She was undeniably beautiful. So beautiful I wanted to punish her for it. Punish her for every stare from the men she met at work, or passing her on the street. I wanted to make her submit to me completely, and there was no way I’d ever be satisfied unless she only came for me. Not even herself. No, I wanted to be on her filthy fucking mind every single time she had an orgasm. She was only mine now. Mine to punish. Mine to reward. Mine to fuck raw.

  Her brow furrowed as she listened to the person on the other end of the line.

  “How did you get this number?” Her voice was small, a little shaky. Her hand left her pussy and came to a stop on the armrest of her chair. “No, it’s not. It’s really not okay.”

  I stopped touching my cock as I stared at her. Something was up.

  “No, it’s really not,” she said again. “I don’t want to, no. Please don’t call me. I’m sorry. Yes. Thank you.”

  She cut the call and I stared at her as she tried to regain her composure. She was shaking.

  “You okay, doll?” I asked her, and she shook her head dismissively.

  “It’s nothing,” she said softly. “I might have to go now.”

  “Wait,” I said, almost too fast for my own liking. “What’s up? What happened?”

  She sighed and rubbed her temples. Her tits jiggled when she did and I couldn’t help but stare at them.

  “Some guy,” she said. “He came into work today. I work in a bookstore, I thought he just wanted help… He got a bit weird right before I left.”

  “Okay,” I said roughly. If someone had tried to hurt my doll, I was going to rip their ball sack off. “What happened now?”

  “He asked for my number earlier.” Her voice was scared. “I said no, but I think one of the girls at work must’ve given it to him. They… don’t like me much.”

  “Are you okay?” I wanted to know. “Can I do anything?”

  “No.” She shook her head vehemently. “It’s really okay. He’s just a weird guy. We get them sometimes. I have to go now, okay?”

  She looked into the camera apologetically, and despite what I knew was right and wrong, I wanted to switch my own on so fucking badly. I wanted to console her. Tell her I’d be the only one scaring her from then on. But I resisted and bit my tongue.

  “Okay, doll,” I said. “Look into the camera for me.”

  She did, her eyes big and frightened like a doe’s.

  “Say thank you,” I told her. “Say thank you for playing with me, sir.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, and cut off the call.

  She left me sitting there with a throbbing fucking hard-on, and my head swimming with conflicting thoughts.

  I needed to see her. Not like that, not over the camera. I needed to see her in person.

  I knew fuck-all about her, though. Definitely not enough to find her. And the thought of her being so creeped out by the guy that came into her work was putting me off the idea.

  But wasn’t she the girl who came to thoughts of someone finding her, raping her, fucking her tight little cunt while she begged them to stop? Wasn’t this exactly what she fucking wanted?

  I was fighting a battle with myself, trying to decide what I should do. The biggest part of me demanded I find where she was, what she was doing. I needed to know. I needed to fucking find her. I needed every bit of information I could find on her just so I had it ready for when the time was right.

  My conscience was still fighting a battle with me as I tracked her down, finding more and more information as I looked at our conversations and her profile. She revealed some
details so freely it almost felt like she wanted someone to find her. Such a good girl, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for me to follow until she was finally all mine.

  I looked at every single one of her posts and finally tried to nail down the location. I knew she lived in a house then, no neighbors in sight. She worked in a bookstore, and she had a rescue cat. She went to a grocery store, walking there every single evening, mornings on the weekends. I knew the neighborhood she lived in from what she’d said, and I knew it was only a half hour’s drive away from me.

  I decided I had to see her.

  If my assumptions were correct, it meant she’d be going on her evening walk to the store in an hour or so, and I had every intention of seeing her there.

  I looked at her neighborhood until I found the store she liked, because it was the only one that stocked a brand of cookies she’d mentioned online. It was a local farm’s product, and the shop sold it exclusively. Once I nailed it down, I grinned to myself, knowing I had her.

  But could I really do this? Could I really be such a fucking creep and go see where she lived? It felt a bit fucking disturbing, to stalk her like that.

  And yet every time I tried to come up with a reason good enough to convince myself not to do to it, I failed. I had to find her.

  I got ready in record time, putting on some jeans and a simple button-down shirt. I slicked my hair back, and left my stubble the way it was. I hated shaving for the office anyway, so I kept it grown out when I didn’t have to go into work. I grabbed my keys and drove down to the store.

  It was a small, quaint little shop obviously family-owned for generations. The owner, a plump woman in her sixties, greeted me at the door with such excitement I knew it had been a while since the shop had its last new customer. I looked around the store with her following closely behind, so desperate to show me everything the store had to offer. She explained her shop had been working with local farmers for years, and some of her bestsellers were their eggs and products made with the milk their cows produced.

  I felt her enter the store without even looking over my shoulder.

  My cock tightened when the bell above the door rang, announcing its new customer. The shopkeeper’s face lit up in a bright smile, and she excused herself. I had to physically restrain myself from turning around and looking at my girl, my little doll. I needed to see her so fucking badly. I knew she’d be perfect for me, and I just hoped she’d still be wearing that fucking see-through dress.

  I lost myself between the shelves, finding the organic produce my girl was such a fan of. I stocked my basket with some food, adding the cookies she liked so much.

  And then I felt her presence behind me, her sweet scent filling my nostrils and making me think things so nasty it was almost embarrassing.

  I bumped into her, and she dropped a drink on the floor. The can broke open, and the fizz from her drink sprayed everything, covering us both in sticky, sweet juice.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. I hadn’t meant to hit her quite that hard.

  We both leaned down and she giggled as the drink kept spraying her.

  “I’ll pay for that,” I told her apologetically.

  “No problem,” she replied. Her voice was higher, sweeter in person. I looked up at her and my cock fucking ached.

  She was indeed still wearing the dress, and she looked good enough to eat. Her long, pale legs were sticky with the soda, and I had to fight the urge to touch her dainty ankles. She wore simple sandals, with her hair down and messy. Her face was devoid of makeup and she looked much younger than the twenty-four years I knew she had on her. She looked like fucking jailbait and it turned me the fuck on.

  Her pretty eyes connected with mine and I grinned at her, thinking about throwing her on the floor and fucking myself into that tight little pussy.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hello,” I replied. “So sorry for knocking that out of your hands, again. Let me pay for what you’re getting.”

  “No problem, really,” she said, and we both got up. She tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear, and I found myself staring, mesmerized. “I’m just getting some cookies.”

  “Those?” I pointed to my own basket, and she giggled.

  “Yes, they’re amazing.” She gave me a shy smile and after a short consideration, she handed me her own box of the chocolate chip goodness. “Okay, you can buy me these. Just because you got me all sticky.”

  God fucking dammit…

  We walked to the till and she waited behind me demurely while I paid for the goods. The shopkeeper kept glancing between us so obviously I almost felt embarrassed. I paid the amount in cash and walked the girl outside, handing her the box of cookies.

  “I’m sorry again,” I said, and she smiled sweetly.

  “It’s okay. I’ll think of you while I eat these,” she giggled.

  “I hope you do.” I winked at her.

  She lingered, as if she wanted to say something else, but then just shook her head and gave me a little smile.

  “Okay, have a great evening,” she told me softly, and turned to leave.

  I grabbed her hand and pulled her back, and she let out a little gasp, looking up at me through thick black lashes.

  “Your name?” I asked her roughly.

  “Cleo,” she whispered, and I nodded, letting her go.

  I walked away with the image of her nipples straining against that sinful dress fresh in my mind. I was good and done for, even if she didn’t know it yet.

  4 days later

  I hadn’t heard from him in what felt like ages, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, the truth was, it was making me really upset.

  We’d only been talking for a little while but the connection I felt to my online guy was real. I couldn’t get my mind off him. Couldn’t bring myself to think about anything else.

  My days at work passed uneventfully and slowly as hell, and apart from the fear of seeing that creepy dude again, there was nothing to keep me occupied. And even he didn’t show up, which was really a blessing, but it made my days bleaker and more boring.

  Every so often, I found my mind wandering. I thought about the guy I’d seen in the store a few days back, the way my skin felt electric when he gently brushed my fingers, handing me my cookies. It was the only physical contact we’d had, but for some reason, I couldn’t get my mind off it. I kept thinking about him, how I’d never seen him in the store before, wondering if he was new to the area, wondering if I’d ever see him again. I was actually upset about the way things ended… He’d pulled me back and asked my name, but I never got his. It felt so anti-climactic, but at the same time, him leaving after he found out what he wanted made me wet just thinking about it.

  I went home that night with my mind filled with worry. I kept thinking about my online guy and feeling a little guilty about getting wet when I remembered the guy at the store. I was sure Mr. Mysterious wouldn’t have approved of me getting horny for someone who wasn’t him. He seemed pretty possessive the last time we’d talked.

  I pulled up in front of my little house, and my heart kicked into panic mode the second I saw a car parked in my driveway.

  I wasn’t expecting any visitors. I hadn’t really made many new friends in the city, apart from a few ex-boyfriends who I really had no interest in seeing anymore. And I doubted any of them wanted to pay me a visit… The rest of my girlfriends lived farther away from me, and usually complained about making a trip that long to come see me, so I just saw them occasionally.

  My stomach fell as I got out of my car and saw a figure standing on my doorstep. I’d worked the evening shift that night, and it was now almost dark outside. It was a long summer day, and the last rays of sunshine colored the sky in a menacing bloody red. I turned around the corner and walked up to the person standing before my door. The sun was setting behind his back, and apart from being able to tell it was a male figure, I couldn’t see anything else. It was too bright, the setting sun making me squint against the
stranger on my doorstep.

  “Hello?” I said, shielding my eyes from the sun. “Can I help you?”

  “I hope you can,” he replied in a low growl, and my heart tightened as I realized whom the voice belonged to.

  The man who’d wanted my help at work. The guy who got my number from my co-workers and did his very best to try and go out on a date with me.

  He hadn’t called me since a couple of days ago, but he was definitely overstepping the line now. Showing up on my doorstep… It wasn’t sexy or hot. It was downright creepy. I got such a weird vibe from the guy, too, and not in a good way. He scared me, and I felt deeply uncomfortable knowing he was now aware of where I lived.

  “Hi,” I replied icily. “How did you find my address?”

  I stepped in front of the door, blocking the entrance from his eyes. Hopefully he hadn’t seen my last name yet, so he couldn’t stalk me further… Although that was a pathetic wish, given that he’d already somehow found out my address. It was making me increasingly uncomfortable, and I really, really wanted him to leave.

  “Your co-worker,” he replied with a smile, running a hand through his hair. “She was very cooperative.”

  I felt chills down my spine. I looked him over again and tried to calm down.

  He was definitely a handsome guy. Expensive clothes, a car that cost more than my yearly salary. I had no doubt any other woman would’ve fallen at his feet, but as for me… there was something about the guy that felt so unnerving, almost dangerous. When I met a guy I liked, I always fantasized about him hurting me, making me do things I’d only confessed online. With my last boyfriend, I kept hoping he would find my internet history and finally give me what I so badly craved.

  And it was the same when I saw a handsome guy on the street. But not in this case.

  This man, who had made every possible effort to see me, gave me the creeps.

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “This is making me very uncomfortable. I don’t like that you showed up here.”

  “Oh?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I thought we could go out for a late dinner or something.”