Page 12

Chapter 12

Jahmar

I t’s been three days since I saw Anders. I think I may have well and truly scared him off. According to Femi, he has a ‘stomach bug’.

I thought sharing my deepest, darkest secret with him would bring us closer—evidently not. He’s literally been stalking me, so I don’t think he’s one to judge, but here we are. Clearly, he draws the line at bodily mutilation. It’s a shame, we had a good thing going.

I wonder if he’s still watching me. I’ve made sure to put on one hell of a show each night, just in case.

If he’s avoiding me in person, maybe I can reach him another way…

It’s just after midnight, hopefully, he’s logged on. I grab a Sharpie and a notepad and scribble out a message.

I can explain. I promise it’s not as sinister as it seems. (Well, depending on what you consider sinister, that is, lol.) Please call me. 07294637840.

I hold the piece of paper under the camera for several minutes. Just as I’m about to give up, my phone pings. Butterflies dance in the pit of my stomach. My little stalker can’t stay away.

Flopping onto my bed, I snatch my phone off the bedside table, and casually lean against the headboard with my ankles crossed. I’m aiming for nonchalant as I know he’s watching, but my whole body tingles with joy-riddled anticipation.

Unknown Number

LEAVE ME ALONE.

Yikes, someone’s tetchy. You’d think Anders’ hostile message would deter me…nope. He wouldn’t have messaged if he didn’t want to hear me out.

I quickly save his number with a heart and scroll through Instagram for a few minutes so I don’t come across too keen. I think the only way to keep him engaged is to play this off casually, or he’ll freak out. He has a habit of doing that.

Now, now, little lion. There’s no need to bite. After the other night, I thought we were making progress.

Anders 3

Well, yes, that was before I realised you’re a fucking psychopath.

Are we forgetting the part where you riffled through my apartment and hid a camera above my bed? I’d say we’re both a little psycho. Perfect match, if you ask me.

Anders 3

That’s different. You knew the camera was there from day one. You could’ve confronted me. Hell, you could’ve reported me, but you didn’t. You wanted me to watch. It’s not stalking if you’re into it.

That sure sounds like something a psycho would say…

Anders 3

Get fucked.

Are you offering?

I chuckle at my childish response. This is good. He’s replying, even if it is slightly abusive. I’ll take communication with him in whatever form it comes. As long as he’s not running to the police about my side hustle, we’re all good.

Anders 3

Eat shit.

I smile up at the camera, slip a hand into my joggers, using the other one to awkwardly reply with my left hand.

So, no show tonight?

I gently fondle my balls while waiting for a response. Five minutes pass, and my cock’s solid and leaking against the grey material, leaving a wet patch.

Please don’t leave me hanging.

I start to stroke my length, only allowing the tip to play peek-a-boo. He’ll have to message me back if he wants a full performance. My phone pings, and I swear my cock grows even harder at that little chime.

Anders 3

Don’t play games with me, Jahmar.

I don’t hesitate to reply this time. I’m past playing it cool.

Tell me what you want.

Three little bubbles pop up in the message chain, then they disappear, coming back several times. Fucking hell, I feel like I’m being emotionally and physically edged. I remove my hand from the joggers to type out another message.

I’ll do whatever you want. No games.

Anders 3

Well, you can start by taking those stupid fucking joggers and t-shirt off. Since when do you sleep in clothes?

I look at the camera with a megawatt smile, whip my clothes off in record time, and lean against the headboard again. My solid length rests against my stomach.

Now what, little lion?

Anders 3

Do you have any other toys?

I stumble to my wardrobe, legs shaking with anticipation of my impending orgasm. This is so much hotter putting on a show when he’s telling me what to do.

I take out a small box packed with sex toys from the top shelf of my wardrobe, remove the lid and dump the contents onto the bed.

Anders 3

Lift each item up to the camera. I want to see what we’re working with.

I try to control my smile, but I’m grinning from ear to ear. This is so HOT.

I present my toys one by one like I’m on the home shopping channel. Nipple clamps, glass butt plugs in various sizes, basic pink vibrator. When I get to the last item, a message comes through.

Anders 3

What’s that?

An app controlled prostate massager.

Anders 3

Tell me the name of the app and give me your login details.

Oh, fuck.

I should be mildly offended at how he’s speaking to me, not even a please. But the thought of him controlling my orgasm is too good to turn down. I send the details over, turn on the toy, and a few minutes later, it buzzes to life, making me jump. I drop the silky black toy on my lap and clutch my pounding heart.

Anders 3

Ha, scared you. Now quit messing about and prep yourself for me.

Hell, yes. Show time.

I spread my thighs and get to work, squirting lube onto my fingers and easing into my needy hole. It doesn’t take long before I’m a withering mess. Knowing he’s watching takes this whole thing to the next level. Is he touching himself, too? I bloody hope so. My phone pings.

Anders 3

Put a pillow under your arse, spread your thighs wider and tip your hips up so I can see that piercing and hole.

Yes, sir ;)

Anders replies with an eye-rolling emoji, and I chuckle as I get myself into the position he demands. Bossy Anders is the best, even if he is a little mean. I have his attention, and that’s all that matters.

Upgrading to a third finger, I pump my hips towards the camera so he can see the bull’s eye. The bull’s eye being my arsehole. I furiously stroke my cock, getting dangerously close.

Anders 3

Ok, enough of that. Put the toy deep inside of you, no more touching your cock.

My stomach swoops, and I fumble to slide the toy inside, groaning as it stretches me out. Clutching my phone in my trembling hand, I type a message when another comes through.

Anders 3

Now attach the nipple clamps.

Jesus Christ, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to handle all this stimulation; I already feel like I’m vibrating so much I could slip out of my skin.

Putting my phone to the side, I attach the clamps, hissing as they pinch my already erect nipples. The thin silver chain attached to the nipple clamps dangles down my stomach, tickling the head of my dick.

I suck in a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stabilise myself. My cock twitches against my stomach. Fuck I need to wrap my hand around it. I grab my phone.

Can I touch myself, please?

Anders 3

No, tug the chain.

I use one of my hands and tug, releasing a blaring moan at the pleasurable pain.

My phone rings in the opposite hand. Shit, he’s calling. I release the chain and answer, clicking it on loudspeaker and resting it against the centre of my chest.

“Anders, you there?”

More seconds of silence until a vibration shoots through my prostate, and my hips jerk up.

“Ahhhh, fuck,” I whine.

A muffled laugh travels through the phone. He must’ve turned the toy up pretty high because I can’t stop my legs from shaking. Fucker. Couldn’t just start slow.

“Tug the chain again,” Anders demands, voice thick with arousal.

I do as I’m told, clamping down on my lower lip to silence my pathetic moans. I’ll literally do anything this man says right now. Usually, I’m the one in control, teasing him and taking the lead, but in the bedroom, he owns me.

“No, you stop biting that lip and let me hear you. Those moans belong to me, ok?”

“God, fuck, yes.”

I tug on the chain again, howling like a werewolf about to turn. I feel fucking feral. He turns up the toy by another notch.

“No, Anders, too much. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, and you will. You wanted my attention, and guess what? You have it now.”

I make a sound that’s foreign to me, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“That’s it, mewl for me.” I can almost hear the humour in Anders’ voice, but beneath that is pure lust, so I push my humiliation aside and take it.

I let go of my dignity, tugging at the clamps and releasing a string of incoherent words and whimpers. “Please, Anders, le-let me touch my cock,” I stammer as my hips squirm against the pillow.

“No, you’re going to come hands-free,” Anders pants. He must be close, too. Beyond his heaving breaths, I hear the rough slap and slide of his own cock as he wanks himself off.

“I don’t think I can.” My voice trembles, and my vision clouds.

“Yes, you can, Jay; come on.”

The toy vibrates at max power, and I cry out.

“Tug the clamps, harder. Come on, you’re almost there.”

I’m practically rolling around the bed in a sweaty mess. Nothing has ever felt so intense. His voice and presence heighten everything. It’s like he’s here with me, slamming against my prostate and biting on my nipples.

“Come for me, baby.”

That’s all it takes, that one line fucking shatters me. Hot cum shoots from my raging cock, painting my stomach and chest. Anders’ deep moan is music to my ears. He’s right there with me, coming in sync.

The toy continues to vibrate violently inside of me, I’m thrashing against the bed as it buzzes away painfully on my exhausted prostate. I reach between my legs, dragging the toy out with a weak cry.

I start to come down from my orgasm, and my vision clears. I remove the nipple clamps, wincing at the pain now my orgasm has passed. Unable to lift my head, I let it flop to the side.

“That was fucking amazing.” He doesn’t respond. “Anders, are you there?” Nothing.

I shoot up, eyes wide and a heavy weight in my stomach. I scramble for my phone to find the screen black. When I click the side button and realise he’s hung up, it feels like a slap to the face.

Hey, where did you go?

Message not delivered.

“Shit,” I spit.

He blocked me; after all that, he fucking blocked me. I didn’t even have a chance to explain why I was conducting surgeries in my home.

I drop my phone onto the bed and look down at myself, covered in cum. A feeling I’ve not had in a while bubbles in my chest—shame.

Post-nut guilt floods me for the first time since we started these little shows. Why didn’t I just tell him? Let him in. I did what I always do whenever anyone gets close. I used my body and humour to avoid the painful truth. And look where it got me, alone with a bigger hole in my chest.