My Voyeur

I’d made a mess of my life, and while putting on a sex show every week wasn’t most women’s idea of a good job, at least I was finally off the streets. I even had a regular—a man who made me comfortable with what I did because he was behind glass and faceless in the dark. But then my voyeur revealed just how much he saw.

“Devin?”

He shook his head. “We can’t leave until he’s finished with us.”

My stomach squeezed into my throat as I took a step forward. I knew better than to move into the stage area. My whole life was built around knowing better, but over the past several months, I’d grown to feel secure in the toy store. Besides, I couldn’t leave Devin alone in there while my instincts screamed in warning.

I grabbed for courage. Whole portions of my life had been spent in bad situations and I told myself I could survive whatever was coming. I had before. But I wondered if Devin could.

Stalling, I cleared my throat and squinted into the dark at my voyeur’s usual window. The barrier was totally off its track, fallen to the floor, but the glass was intact. “You want a show?”

“It’s Tuesday, gorgeous. I’m waiting for the show to start.”

I was desperate to find a way out of the situation for Devin. He didn’t deserve what was coming. “Let him go and I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Devin’s presence is required.”

Casting in a different direction, I asked, “How do you know what I need, when I don’t even know?”

“I’ll give you what you really want.” A scratchy chuckle coasted through the gloom. “You want rules. You can’t stand the burden of responsibility. You want someone to tell you what to do so you don’t have to figure it out for yourself.”

There was nothing to say to his pronouncement. Maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t—I didn’t know, but his thoughts made as much sense as anything the shrinks at juvie had said, so I let it go with a jerky shrug. I tried to tell myself that his opinion didn’t matter anyway. I was a girl he watched masturbate, nobody special, a fantasy separated from reality by a window and a delusion of pleasure.

But if that was true, why did his voice have so much of my fear evaporating? Or was that just Devin’s presence affecting my emotions? I couldn’t let him be hurt, so I had to be strong enough to protect him. I didn’t think either Devin or I had a way out beyond obedience to the demands of that dark velvet voice.

Kind of freaking myself out with the path my thoughts had veered onto, I tried to go blank and numb, tried to look at this situation as just one more fuck in a long life of selling sex. But I couldn’t, because this was not some john I’d forget about in five minutes. This was Devin.

“Let him go,” I begged my voyeur. “Let Devin go safe and I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

My voyeur’s laugh trembled down my spine. “Touch yourself now, gorgeous. Don’t make me say it again.”

A flicker of hope ignited in my laboring chest. Maybe I could redirect things, make my voyeur happy enough watching me touch myself that he would let us go. If I played along and did what I was told, there was a better chance Devin and I would come out of the current situation intact. I would pretend to come and my voyeur would leave, happy that he’d gotten what he’d paid for.

“Fern,” Devin said on a low rush of air. “Just do what he wants. It’s okay, really.”

With a shaky nod, I took a step into the wash of blue light. Knowing my voyeur could probably only barely see me, I untied my robe and shrugged it off. I flexed my spine and lifted my hands to my tits.

I stroked my boobs and cupped them. I played and teased as I arched into the meager light flowing over me in such a way that I was mostly enclosed in the safety of darkness. Shutting my eyes, I pretended as hard as I could that this was any normal Tuesday.

Except it wasn’t.

My voyeur’s voice rang out in a breathy tone still managing to carry a command. “So pretty. If you could see the way you look under that blue light. It kisses your nipples and leaves the rest to my imagination. Except your expression, gorgeous. That I can see, and I don’t like it.”

I didn’t really know what he meant. What expression? With my eyes squeezed closed I doubted there was much room for anything he could take exception to, but I pulled on one of the thousand faces I’d practiced in the mirror, pouting and scrunching my nose. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want to see.”

His tone lost the breathy edge and turned downright glacial. “I want to see you come.”

“Yes, I will.” With no grace at all, I thrust my hand down my panties. Mimicking the things he’d taught me to do, I touched myself and hoped my voyeur would be fooled. I twisted my lips and panted, I wriggled my hips and moaned.

“Didn’t I tell you not to fucking lie to me?” His question whipped through the speaker.

I froze, pouted. “You did, and I’m not.”

“I don’t like this regression, gorgeous. Just when we’re making progress, you get all stiff on me? I won’t tolerate it.”

Devin shifted on his knees a little. “Tell her what you want.”

Yes…” The lump I tried to swallow seemed to get stuck in my throat as I jumped on the suggestion. “Maybe it would help if you told me what to do.”

“I’ll tell you what to do.” My voyeur’s voice gentled. “Then you don’t have to take control or make your own decisions.”

“Don’t make him mad, Fern. Just listen to what he says and do it.”

Half-turning, I looked at Devin. From that distance in the blue gloom, I couldn’t make out what emotion might be showing in his eyes, but I heard the insistent tone of his voice. I bit my lip in shame, having pushed my voyeur toward cold anger, when I should have been as cooperative as possible to make sure Devin got out of this intact.

Bracing myself, I widened my stance, pushed my hand back under my panties and touched my clit. I’d learned a lot in the past weeks and knew better now, so I didn’t just circle the peak, but rubbed and stroked and flicked gently. I paid attention to the flesh at the very top and slid my fingers down to find the sensitive spots to the left and right.

All the while, I held Devin’s eyes as a lifeline to strength and composure. He was a living reminder of what I was doing and why, and yet, the longer I held his gaze, the more I forgot. With my voyeur silent on the other side of his window, Devin became my measuring stick, and I moved my hands or lingered based on what I saw in his expression. If he liked something, I stayed a moment, and if his gaze flicked to a different part of my body, my fingers followed.

Soon enough, the intercom crackled to life and my voyeur’s commands flowed freely. I knew this situation, understood it and had even found pleasure in it. Proving myself to be a twisted bitch, it was a relief to just let him have his way. On the dais, Devin gripped his dick and watched me, unblinking, and his steady presence and obvious attention helped lend me enough courage that I started to relax, and even enjoy myself. A soft sensation of heat curved down through my abdomen.

The speakers crackled and my voyeur hummed in approval. “Pet your breasts, gorgeous. Play with your nipples until they’re hard little peaks.”

I did. I spent long minutes playing with my boobs—cupping, stroking, tweaking. Every order he gave. Devin began to pant, my voyeur’s tone shifted into a velvet slide. My nipples contracted as I circled, pulled gently and pinched hard, learning even more about what I liked and what my body craved. I didn’t have to do anything other than what my voyeur told me to and I found myself slipping into the role I’d grown accustomed to playing out with him.

God help me, but I responded. My breathing turned ragged, once a low moan sprung free and my abdominal muscles pulled tight. With my eyes glued to Devin’s face and my voyeur’s instructions rolling over me, it was easier to pretend that I was simply melting into fantasies provided by my own imagination. I relaxed into the warmth slowly building inside me as I skimmed over my own skin and delved beneath my panties.

Then I made the mistake of dropping my eyes from Devin’s. Still kneeling, he’d shuffled to the edge of the bed, the blue glow of the overhead catching his face directly and grazing his body enough to wash over his stiff dick as he stroked it. Down and up, a little twist of his palm at the end, another hard pull accompanied by a soft growl. His other hand cradled his balls, pulling and squeezing.

“Join Devin on the dais, gorgeous.”

I stopped stroking my body and shoved my palms against the sudden thrumming under my breastbone instead. Standing in the dark, with nothing stronger than a single blue bulb to light the way, my curiosity grew sharp claws. My lust grew sharp teeth. Something deep inside me, premonitions pacing around the very back of my mind, warned me this situation was more dangerous than I could currently comprehend. Which was really saying something.

He had nothing to be insecure about, that was for sure, but Devin’s cock was nothing I couldn’t handle. That wasn’t what worried me. No, it was the look in his eyes as they caught the light. The lust ringed with something softer, something hinting at shared futures.

I could have used both our bodies to get us out of here, or at least my own to set him free. But if I used him the way my voyeur demanded, Devin’s vulnerable heart might never be the same. A chill of guilt went straight through me at the knowledge of what I was about to do to the best man I’d ever met.

Staring at Devin, I panted under the weight of too many emotions and too many sensations bearing down on me. I shook my head, but I didn’t know if my action was meant to be a denial or a plea for his help.

“Stop resisting!” my voyeur snapped.

Devin called out, “Tell her what you want!”

For a minute, I couldn’t tell the difference between their voices, but that must have been my own anxiety at work. There came a pause that stretched time and drew my nerves taut. An endless moment where I fell into the desire in Devin’s eye, and the twisted perversion rising inside me. Only when I thought I would scream did my voyeur reply.

“You’re not leaving that room until I see you come around his cock. Real pleasure, gorgeous.”

One of the first lessons I’d ever learned—in my life, not just on the streets—was if you did what you’d been told to do, it would hurt less. Whatever it was. Comply, and men would be gentler, fight and you might not get out alive.

I only prayed Devin would forgive me as I crossed the room.