Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
In my kitchen, I grab the bottle of wine and I pour a glass. The deep red sloshes against the sides before settling down. I pick it up and slowly sip the alcohol. A deep, spicy flavor bursts on my tongue. It’s almost nine, time to work.
Focus.
I cannot be intoxicated should anything happen.
Without another thought, I head into the second bedroom of my apartment and shut the door. It’s the only way I can concentrate on what I’m about to do. I flick on the red light which illuminates the room in a deep glow.
The floor to ceiling windows offer a glimpse of a river snaking through the city. When I turn to my left, all I see are high-rise buildings, glinting with sparkling lights. To the right, I can about make out a few of the infamous sights of the city. It’s turned cold over the past few weeks, and soon, I’ll be able to take time off for Christmas.
A light flickers in a building opposite mine, but the rest of the windows are black, and I have to squint to figure out if I’m imagining things or if it’s real. But it’s gone within seconds, setting unease twisting in my gut. I imagined it. I must have. Maybe I’m thinking too deeply about things and it’s someone coming home from work. But even as I consider this, I’m almost certain the building is only made up of offices.
I wait for another flicker, but it doesn’t happen again.
My life has changed. Each time I notice an oddity— like flickering lights—I need a solid explanation, or my mind plays tricks on me. I turn away from the window and settle on the large mattress overlooking the camera.
The first time I did this, I felt ashamed afterward. But while I was online, I basked in the attention. One man at a time, where I can’t see him, but he can see most of me. The parts men enjoy.
I’ve accepted my fate.
My future to live a life in solitary. When my father was arrested, I was put away with him. The confinement of my life has taken a toll, and now my needs have twisted into something far darker than I expected.
I flick on the camera, and log into my creator account. While I wait, I turn on the stereo, and music gently purrs through the speakers. The haunting voice of Digital Daggers sings “The Devil Within” while I sip my drink.
“Slut,” a deep voice comes from the computer, and I know he’s here. This is what I need, what I crave. I deserve nothing more than to be degraded because I’m broken.
“Yes, sir,” I murmur, offering him a seductive and alluring smile. I found this website by chance, and since the first time I put on a show, I was addicted to the darkness these men enjoy.
“Spread those pretty legs for me,” he orders, and I obey. “Mm,” he groans, and I know he’s turned on by the black lace covering my most intimate parts. He doesn’t do anything more than order me around, asking me to touch myself, to explore my body, while calling me vulgar names.
I don’t make a sound. Instead, I drop my hand between my thighs, and I tease my clit over the soft material. I’m wet. Drenched. A ding on the computer sounds, and my eyes snap to the screen. Furrowing my brow, I lean in closer, trying to see what it was.
“Is my slut misbehaving?” my client growls and I can practically feel his frustration. I’m not sure why, but ice trickles down my spine.
“No, I’m sorry,” I tell him as I take my position again. But another ding sounds, and it’s then I realize the cash amount. I’ve always been paid through a secure link, never in the chat rooms. But someone is in here, someone is watching, and I don’t know who it is.
The amount continues to rise with every ding of the speakers. I drop my feet to the carpet and sit with my legs closed. I know this is going to lose me a client, but my gut churns with anxiety as I note there is now almost ten thousand dollars in my account.
“Slut,” Mr. J spits with venom this time. “You’re a useless fucking whore tonight,” he tells me, as he clicks out of the room. The stranger is still here though because I see the guest icon blinking. He’s watching, but he’s turned off his speaker and camera. I can’t see who it is, and the thought sets me on edge.
Then the text box pops up with a message making my blood run cold.
We’re coming, little mouse. We’re going to catch you and make you squeal.
My heart drops to my feet as I rush to the computer to shut it off. I’m kneeling on the floor, my heart thudding in my throat, choking me with every passing second. I didn’t expect this night to go like this, but right now, fear has gripped me in its icy hold.