by Loren Teese
I tell him everything. I tell him I don't want to steal, but there are sensations I can’t get in any other way. I explain to him that my fetish for possession goes beyond being possessed, and stealing is the only way I found to calm that urge. I tell him what I read: that possessing other, preferably married men could help my problem, but I can’t even imagine doing something like that behind his back.
He listens to everything without a word, then when I finish, after a long silence, he stands up.
“Everything will be OK,” he says, exiting the room.
I nervously play with the border of my summer dress, adjust my hair, my position on the chair. I can't bear this waiting... I need to know what expects me.
Then Ryan comes back and his face is more serious than before, this time. My heart loses a beat, waiting for his judgement.
“The security guard wants to call the police. The evidence in the video is enough for incriminating you. They may even sue me, actually, for abetting you. They say I went to the cash desk to distract the owner as you stole.” His tone is deadly serious, I don't dare to talk back. “But the fact you stole something small, something with little value, especially after I paid a hundred dollars for the other article, has given us a possibility,” he continues.
“What possibility?” I ask.
“See... They have a problem today, and they'd like you to help them with it. If you'll do your job right, they'll overlook what happened. They actually said you may even earn some money...”
“W... What's it, I have to do?”
“The owner fancies you.”
“You're not thinking of... I would never have sex with him to-”
“It's not that,” he hushes me. “They had a show today. A glamour model called Cathy Something had to host the peep show today and tomorrow. But she just called in sick, and they have no time to find a substitute.”
I start to realize what is going to happen, an emotional turmoil takes possession of every fibre of my body and mind.
“To make it short, the owner thinks you’re sexy enough to substitute her, that most of his customers will for sure be satisfied with you. He asks you to take her place, and try doing the job well. After all, it seems a bad show is still better than no show at all, to attract customers,” he says. “He called it a win-win situation. You do this favour to him, he avoids suing us.”
For a moment, I feel relieved. There is, at least, a way out of this. Something I can do, something I may even... want to do, in other situations. The emotions I felt looking at the poster come back and overwhelm me. Am I really going to expose myself to some strangers, like that?
“It's up to you, now. They expect an answer when I get out of here.”
“What about you? I'm your wife… I’m going to show other men… something that is only yours...”
I'm already telling him I want to accept.
“You will still be mine, whatever happens, right?”
I nod, grab his hand and pull him to hug me, but he kisses me instead. I can feel the taste of my salty tears between our lips, but I'm not crying anymore.
I did something despicable, and now I have a chance to fix it, a chance to work on a solution with my love, who now knows every single secret of me. And if I won't, my husband will be involved too... I can't risk this to happen.
“I'll do it.”
“Good,” he says heading to the door, then he stops and turns around. “And while you are at it, try to enjoy it,” he says, winking.
***
I've never seen anything like this. Of course, I know what a peep show is but... In every video I saw, the camera inside the customer cabin. from here, from within my booth, it's a different world.
I'm in a small room, two square meters at most. The door behind me doubles as red velvet background. The upper part of the front wall is a see-through mirror. I can see myself but I can't see who's looking at me from the other side of it.
Under the mirror, two holes big enough to allow a hand inside, are locked from handles on my side. A shiver runs down my spine when I realize what they can be used for. My heart beats so fast, my hands tremble as I pull the bunny costume out from a bag they gave me. It'll be my outfit, for these two hours and for tomorrow session. Apart from two black circles on the nipples and a line between my legs, the rest is in transparent black nylon. The costume slides between my buttcheeks like a thong, and when I wear it I can feel the little white bunny tail tickling my ass.
I dry my pussy with a wet tissue. Regardless of the bad situation I've put myself into, my body has reacted on its own.
Suddenly, I hear a noise and I quickly turn around to the mirror, wondering if somebody has just seen me doing something so intimate. But nothing happens. I sit down, waiting for the first customer, one part of me wishing nobody will come, today, the other screaming to try this experience.
There is an LCD monitor just above the mirror, where appears the commands inputted by customers who don’t want to speak. As far as I know, anyway, there is a curtain sliding down when the allotted time for a customer has ended, and they explained to me that a countdown will start on the screen when a show begins. I’ll know when I have to move.
As I sit on the low stool, looking around and wondering what I should do, I hear the sound of a door closing, right in front of me, on the other side of the mirror. Someone has entered the customer box.
I feel so nervous. I never thought I could hear what happens in the other room so clearly. Can the customer hear me as well? I tremble, checking if the costume is correctly covering my nipples, if my makeup is good enough, if-
There’s no time anymore. The red indicator starts blinking, and I hear the whirring of an automatic curtain being risen inside the other room. Then silence.
It’s just me, wearing a tight bunny dress, black net stockings, heels and a pair of fake rabbit ears. And a stranger I’ll never see is looking straight at me, dressed like a slut, from not more than a meter away.
[Dance]
The command blinks on the LCD screen. The customer must have sent it from the other box. I stand up. The music inside my booth is cadenced, rhythmic. It feels out of a sexy bar, a pole dancer show, an 80’s porn. Nonetheless, I begin moving my body in rhythm with the soft background music. I stand up, move my arms, wave my butt at the mirror. I even bend forward to let him have a glimpse of my cleavage, remembering only afterwards I don’t have enough breasts for such a move to have an effect. But I’m aware of my strong features. I lift a leg on the stool, caress it from the black heels up my calves, my thighs.
Then I hear the sound of the curtain again, and the red lamp stops blinking.
I’m alone, again. The customer didn’t add any money and soon exits the room.
I have mixed feelings. Wasn’t I sexy enough? Was he… was he unable to… to get horny for me? At the thought of a man getting hard just by looking at me, I feel a shiver down my spine. I can’t lie to me: showing myself off is my thing. I slide a finger between my legs, past my bunny outfit, and bring it to my mouth, wet. There’s no doubt about it.
And yet, even if more than a punishment this feels like a gift, to me – I bet hubby thought of it before asking me to host the peep show – I can’t restrain being angry at myself, for not having provided satisfaction. Cathy Raise would have done better. She would have squeezed out more money from that man.
A rush of blood reddens my face. I sit on the stool, clenching my entwined hands in front of my face. I just couldn’t do better. But I can’t accept being inferior to her.
Then the door opens again and the red light soon starts blinking.
This second customer speaks and is more aggressive than the previous.
“Spread your legs,” he commands first, while I’m still sitting on the stool.
I imagine his hoarse voice owned by some horny, old man. I think about my husband, about my mistake and how it may affect him, too, if I don’t do my job well, and I abide by his wish putting my hands on my knees
and slowly spreading my legs. I don’t feel at ease with this man. I wonder how Cathy would manage him. Anyway, he’ll not see anything more than my outfit covering my pussy, I don’t have to worry.
His following commands come soon, though.
“Turn around, show me your ass,” he groans.
I stand up and turn around.
“Bend on the stool, bitch.”
I’d like to scream him that I’m not his tool, not his possession. And yet the fact he is so rough, so crude… makes it even more exciting. I don’t want to do this, not with this man calling me names, but he has paid for this, and I must give it what he wants.
So I bend on the stool.
“Spread your butt… Fuck, I see nothing like this.”
I look back my shoulder, at the mirror, fulminating him with my eyes. It was just instinct, and my fake smile comes back instantly, but he must have seen my unease for a split-second.
“I pay for this, you bitch.”
He is right. I’m his bitch now, even if I don’t want to. I reach behind with my hands and spread my butt in front of the mirror. Only the thin black line of costume hides my ass from him, but I’m sure he can already see the wrinkles around my rosebud.
“Mmm... yes… turn around again, show me your tits,” he asks, and I can hear the excitement in his words.
I wonder if he is stroking his cock looking at my ass, looking at something not many men have ever seen this up close. Then I stand up, and right as I turn around, the curtain begins rolling down again.
My heart skips a beat. Am I going to let another customer going home unsatisfied? Will the owner of this place even consider my help, and avoid calling the police?
But after a moment, the curtains inverts its movement, re-opening the wide glass in front of the man.
“Show me your fucking tits,” he groans again.
I’m happy there’s a glass between us. I’m happy my makeup and wig almost make me unrecognizable. I’m happy there is a bodyguard outside. I feel safe, because I may scream, and let him know something’s wrong, in case. I could never trust being in a room with this man, but I have a job to do. I reach out to my shoulder straps and pull them down my arms until my small tits pop out.
“Mmm… fuck… nice… small tits… I want to lick them, I want to… to cum on them… you bitch, you want my cum, uh? You want my jizz sprayed all over your tits, I know…”
The fucking name caller is horny like a dog in heat. I can sense it by his words and groans. And frankly, I just want him to cum as quickly as he can, and leave the customer booth to another – hopefully, better - man. I caress my tit with a hand, sucking my finger with the other, mimicking a blowjob for him.
“Suck my cock bitch… mmmgh... suck my dirty cock...”
I slide my wet finger to the other nipple, teasing it around, pinching it. I moan, without even realizing it until I hear my own voice. I’m excited. Not by the man itself, but by my own boldness. And I don’t stop. I continue teasing my exposed nipples to this dirty man, until I hear his last grunts, while he gets the relief he has paid for.
“Fuck.. fuck… I’m giving you my cum bitch… mmmm… mggghhh…”
His groans suddenly stop, and a long one soon follows. Then, I hear some rustling followed by the door opening and closing. The curtain whirs down just a couple of seconds later.
I’m alone again, and only now I realize one of my hands is right between my legs, a finger past my outfit, teasing my clit.
And as much as I didn’t like this man, he was right: I’m wet like a bitch.
***
It takes some times before the next customer arrives, and I have to say my fingers slide past my bunny costume more than once, to caress my blossomed lips. I’m surprised. I can’t understand if it’s because of the thrill of everything happening today, or because of the exposing itself, but I definitely need an orgasm. If only Ryan was here in the box… I’d ask him to lick me, to fuck me, to use me as he pleases, to punish me for my bad behaviour… to slap me, spank me, then cuddle and caress me before fucking me again.
I have to stop my thread of thoughts when I hear the curtain lifting up again, but I’m so horny right now… I want to show more, I want to satisfy another customer. Funny enough, the thought that he is in a box where another man has just cummed crosses my mind. Has he even cleaned up properly, the remnants of his own orgasm? I wonder. And yet it makes it even more exciting, for me, to think someone would not care about such thing, for the benefit of experiencing me.
[Dance]
The command appears on the screen. This customer doesn’t want to speak, either.
I stand up and begin dancing, trying to be sexier than before. I slide my hands on my sides, wave my ass towards the mirror, pull my shoulder straps down my arms, enough to reveal just a little of my small breasts. I lick my fingers again – Gosh, they taste and smell of me so much! – then bring them between my legs, caressing my thighs and sex just barely.
[Kiss me]
This command surprises me. How am I even supposed to kiss him? I keep on dancing while getting closer to the mirror. I mimic kissing it, licking it, while I caress my lips with a finger, then slide it in and out of my mouth. I bet he wants me to blow his cock… I bet he is hard, stroking his prick for me right now, just beyond the mirror. I want him to be so hard he’ll remember me for the rest of his days. I want to be carved into his sexy memories.
As soon as the curtain begins sliding down, the customer puts more money. I feel proud of myself for deserving it, and sexy as I’ve never been. I need someone to take advantage of it, or I’ll end up masturbating myself In the box.
Are customers expecting exactly that, maybe?
Then, one of the holes illuminates with a red circle, and I realize he must have been charged a lot of money to pay for the benefit of touching me. I open it and look at the hand sliding into the booth, puzzled. Because it’s clearly a woman’s one.
I’ve never thought women could enjoy such shows. What could it drive her? Is she aware other men could have… could have touched me before her? Is she smelling the cum of the previous customer, inside the small box? Is it, maybe, the thing arousing her the most?
My head spins, as my trembling hand reaches the little hole, and opens it. I can’t do anything but letting her reach me.
I’ve never been touched by a woman. Her gentle hand touches my arm at first, caresses my hand, almost holding it. I get closer, to let her feel my stomach, my breast. I start hearing a slight moaning from the other side.
I’ve never been caressed like this: her hand is soft, indecisive. May it be a first for her, too? Is she here to try a new experience with a supposed professional, to discover a new side of herself? Or has her boyfriend lead her to this, trying to get her interested in women, too?
My shoulder straps fall down, exposing my naked tits. I feel even more embarrassed in front of a woman: she may have huge breasts, she may consider mine masculine, ugly. Maybe she is so beautiful that my heart would skip a beat if I could see her, so beautiful I’d dream of her doing more than this, to me. I feel I want to be touched by her, and when her fingers finally start teasing one of my nipples, it’s only adoration what I sense, while I moan in pleasure. I’m sure this woman likes me, and I want to be hers.
Her hands slide down my stomach, between my legs, and I spread them because I want her there, too. Her fingers first explore my shapes through the textile, but soon I move the costume aside and let her tentatively touch me.
Amazin. Just amazing. How her fingers tease just the right spots, in the right way. How she caresses and rubs my clit, knowing it’s better to graze it indirectly at first, when it’s the most sensitive. How she teases my entrance with two fingers, with the lightness of a butterfly perching on a blossomed flower.
I hear her moans from the other box. She must be touching herself… driving herself to an orgasm thanks to my body, available for her to consume, thanks to my pussy juices pouring down her fingers, to m
y moans that increases in rhythm with hers. We are in unison, even if – unfortunately – her finger stops too soon to lead me to an orgasm, while she moans and trembles on the other side of the mirror, venting her own passion.
Then the light on the hole starts blinking, and she must retract her hand. I close the hole, unwillingly, sending a kiss to the other side to show my appreciation.
I’m so horny. I want to cum right away. But the curtain gets down again, and the woman disappears.
***
I have just the time to adjust my costume before another customer enters. I wonder how much time has passed from the beginning: this was supposed to be two hours, but there is no clock in my booth, not even on the LCD screen.
The curtain soon lifts up again.
I can say I feel already OK looking at myself in the mirror. It’s almost like being alone, looking at a sexy me while I masturbate. I’m not tense anymore, I’m not fearing the other side anymore.
And I’m so horny, that I can’t think of anything else but pleasing another customer. No, I want to show another customer how good I am, how beautiful my small tits and thin thighs are. I want him to pay to adore me, to pay to hold me in his hands for even just a brief moment.
“Show me your tits.”
The man this time speaks, and I recognize the voice. It is the black security guard.
Is he really… is he really allowed to even come here and look at me? I get covered in goosebumps, as I follow his command and, still sitting on the stool, I lower my outfit to expose my tits. I keep them covered with my hands, then slide them slowly outwards, pulling my nipples in the process.
“Fucking thief… you're going to pay for all the problems you caused me.”
The voice pretends to be angry, but the excitement in him is clear. I can feel his heavy breathing already. Did he get excited already when he was speaking with me before, maybe? Or when he agreed with my hubby to expose me in the peep show? I bet he was already thinking to pay me a visit. Maybe he has sneaked here, actually, and nobody knows about it. Maybe he’s using his afternoon break to enjoy my naked body...