Page 5

5

RYKER

M y finger darts across her image on my largest monitor, memorizing every pixel. Kira’s latest TikTok plays on a loop—she’s explaining her progress on her Aloy costume. The other five screens surrounding my command center display different aspects of her life: her browsing history, social media feeds, security camera feeds from her apartment building, and gaming stats.

“Who’s my good girl?” My obsession pulses through my veins like a drug.

The conversation from our gaming session last week replays in my mind. Her voice, so eager to meet at the convention, makes my cock twitch. She has no idea I’ve already mapped out every detail of our first encounter.

“Soon. Very soon.”

I pull up the convention center blueprints, checking my marked exits and secure locations for the hundredth time. The private security contract I arranged under a shell company ensures I can access and manipulate the camera feeds completely. My fingers fly across the keyboard, activating the self-erasing backdoor I installed in their security system last month during a “routine upgrade” from my company.

Most hackers get caught because they leave digital footprints, breadcrumbs that reveal someone has been there. Amateurs. As CEO of KentSec Systems, I’ve spent years developing undetectable intrusion methods that even government agencies haven’t identified. The same technology I sell to protect corporations is what I’ve modified to make myself a ghost in Kira’s systems.

Her browser history from last night makes me smile—more searches about Ghost and dominant men. She’s practically begging for me to take her, to own her. Every night lately, she falls asleep with my TikTok videos still playing.

“You want to meet so badly, don’t you?” I click through the surveillance photos I’ve taken over the years. “But we can’t just bump into each other at some crowded convention. No, no, no. That won’t do at all.”

I pull up the schedule, assessing when the crowds will be thickest and when security will be distracted. Everything has to be planned meticulously. She deserves perfection.

“I’ve waited so long, trained so hard.” I flex my muscles. “Time to level up our relationship. Game over for your old life.”

I flip between camera feeds as Kira’s key turns in her lock. The hallway cam catches her tired smile before she disappears inside. My fingers hover over the keyboard, switching to the interior feeds.

The cameras in her apartment are my finest work—nano-devices embedded in everyday objects. The smoke detector contains a 360-degree lens with infrared capabilities. The light switches house pinhole cameras that can be activated remotely. Even her bathroom mirror has a camera hidden behind the reflective coating, completely invisible to the naked eye.

None of these devices connect to her WiFi network—they transmit on a proprietary frequency my team developed for military applications, making them undetectable to standard bug sweepers. The signals bounce between three different relays before reaching my servers, routed through seven countries. Even if someone managed to follow the connection, they’d end up at a server farm in Mongolia registered to a shell company that doesn’t exist.

“Welcome home.”

She drops her bag and kicks off her shoes. The tension radiates through her movements. I know that walk, that look in her eyes. My pulse quickens as she heads straight for her bedroom.

The night vision camera gives me a clear view as she yanks open her bedside drawer. My favorite show is about to begin. The silicone vibrator, the one I’ve seen her use countless times, appears in her hand.

“There it is.” My cock hardens as she strips, tossing clothes aside with desperate speed. “Show me what you need.”

She sprawls across her sheets, phone in one hand, toy in the other. I activate the screen capture on her device, knowing exactly what she’s searching for. My TikToks as GhostDaddy, just like every other night.

Her phone was the trickiest to infiltrate without detection. Most spyware leaves traces—battery drain, performance issues, and strange behavior which she had noticed in my initial hack and changed her phone. My solution was to create a replica of her phone’s operating system with my monitoring code built into the kernel. I orchestrated a perfect SIM swap during a “chance” encounter with one of my guys at a coffee shop six months ago while “helping” her troubleshoot connection issues. She never suspected that the “kind IT guy” who fixed her phone had replaced its entire digital backbone.

Through her smart TV, Alexa, phone camera, hidden cameras I installed, and every digital eye I’ve placed in her sanctuary, I drink in the sight and sound of her, her subtle arch of her back, the way her thighs spread. But nothing is private from me, not anymore.

“Fuck, baby girl. Get yourself ready for me.”

I lean closer to the monitors, adjusting the camera angles for the best view. Every gasp and every moan feeds directly into my custom audio setup. The whole room fills with her needy whimpers.

My hand slides down to grip my aching cock through my jeans.

I unzip them, freeing my pierced cock. The metal glints in the glow of the monitors. Her moans fill my command center through the speakers, each one sending heat through my veins.

“Fuck it.” I strip off my shirt, revealing the ghost tattoo above my heart. “Time to give you what you really need.”

My fingers fly across the keyboard, activating the protocols I’ve tested a hundred times. One by one, her smart devices respond to my commands. Her Alexa crackles to life, the voice modulation making my words deep and distorted.

This is where most stalkers would make fatal errors. They’d leave evidence in device logs or command histories. But I’ve modified her Alexa firmware to create a shadow system that operates alongside the original. My commands route through a custom channel that never registers on Amazon’s servers. The device will show no record of activation and no unusual activity. When I finish, a cleanup protocol will erase any temporary cache files, leaving her smart home system exactly as before.

“Such a needy little girl tonight.”

Her body freezes, and the vibrator drops from her trembling fingers.

“Who—”

“Shh.” I cut her off, drinking in her wide-eyed panic through the cameras. “Pick it up.”

Her hand hovers over the toy.

“Now.”

She obeys, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. My cock throbs at her instant submission.

“Good girl. Turn it on. Level three.”

The buzz fills the audio feed. Her thighs quiver.

“Show me how desperate you are.”

A moan escapes her lips as she presses the vibrator against her clit. Her free hand grips the sheets.

“Faster.”

My hand matches her pace, stroking my pierced length. The Prince Albert piercing slides against my palm with each pull.

“Please,” she whimpers.

“Please, what?”

“I need—I need?—”

Through my speakers, I hear her breath catch. The sound shoots straight to my balls. Every gasp, every whimper—I’ve memorized them all over the past two years. But this? This is different. This is the first time I’m involved in her pleasure directly.

“Such a good girl, following my commands.” My voice modulator adds a dark edge. “But you’re holding back. Show me what you really want.”

Her hips buck, and the cameras catch every detail, including the flush spreading across her chest, the way her nipples harden, and how her free hand twists in the sheets.

“Just like that, but faster now.”

She obeys instantly. My cock throbs as I stroke myself, matching her desperate pace. The Prince Albert catching against my palm reminds me how I got it for her after discovering her secret browser searches about pierced cocks.

“Please,” she begs again.

“Tell me who you think about when you touch yourself.”

Her lips part, hesitating. I already know the answer.

“Ghost,” she admits, voice breaking. “I think about Ghost.”

Every detail of this moment was planned, crafted, from the voice modulation to the timing of my commands. Nothing was left to chance.

“Show Ghost how close you are.”

She arches off the bed, crying out. Through six different camera angles, I watch her come undone. My own release builds, but I hold back. Not yet. Not until I have her in person.

“Good girl,” I growl through the speakers. Then I cut the connection, leaving her panting and confused in the afterglow.

I close the connection and lean back, breathing hard and fast. The monitors glow with six different angles of Kira—confused, sated, vulnerable. My hand stills on my cock, saving my release. After two years of stalking silently, I’ve finally crossed the digital barrier.

“You felt it too, didn’t you? The connection.” My voice echoes through my empty command center. “You obeyed so beautifully.”

I rewind the footage, replaying her coming apart again. The way she froze at first, then followed my commands without question. My piercing throbs against my palm as I squeeze myself once more before tucking everything away.

Tomorrow, she’ll convince herself it was a glitch, a hack, maybe even a dream. The human mind rejects what it can’t explain, but deep down, she’ll know. And better still—she’ll want more.

I initiate the cleanup protocol with a single keystroke. The command erases all logs from Kira’s devices, removes any evidence of intrusion from her network, and resets her Alexa to its pre-infiltration state. The beauty of my system is its digital alibi—her devices will show normal operation throughout the evening, with no unexplained activations or commands. If she calls tech support, they’ll find nothing unusual. If she hires a security expert, their standard tools will detect no intrusions.

My company sells cybersecurity solutions to protect against the invasion I’m perpetrating. But the truth is, I’ve always been ten steps ahead of the industry. The vulnerabilities I exploit in Kira’s systems won’t be discovered by security researchers for years—if ever. I’ll have created new ones when they develop countermeasures for these techniques.

I pull up the GamerCon schedule, checking my timetable. Three days until I claim what’s mine. The Ghost costume hangs in my closet—just like she fantasizes about.

I shut down the monitors individually, leaving only her bedroom camera active. She’s curled on her side now, phone clutched to her chest, searching for explanations.

“Next time, you’ll feel my hands instead of just my voice.”

I take one last look at her before heading to my bedroom—the one that mirrors hers exactly. Same sheets, same wall color, same view programmed into my digital windows. The only difference is the empty space beside me—the Kira-shaped void I’ve been waiting to fill.

I slip between the sheets, imagining her warmth beside me.

“Game on.”