by Ally Vance
She doesn’t mess around as she takes me in her mouth, slurping on my dick like I’m a goddamn lollipop, and it takes everything I have not to bust a nut then and there. I mean, I’m amazed I lasted through the sex, it was a close call as her body had milked me to the fucking brink. Ruby wasn’t just addictive, she was all-consuming. She took and took until I had nothing left to give.
Taking me deeper, I shift my hips a little to meet the rhythm of her mouth. She pulls off my dick with a soft ‘pop’ before licking leisurely, and teasing the head with her tongue. She works my length with her hand, while she moves away a little to lick her fingers seductively, sucking on her index and middle finger, coating them until they glisten on the screen. I’d rather she just kept sucking, but there had to be some fanservice in our little show. After a few seconds of this, she’s back to rocking my world with her mouth.
I make an appreciative sound as I near the edge, and with a fistful of hair, I grow impatient. Hungry for more. So I begin thrusting hard, ignoring the small gagging noises she makes or the way a tear escapes from under the blindfold. This was my fantasy, one of my tamer ones. I wanted her dirtied and on her knees for me, mouth full of my cock as I took what I wanted. Fuck. Fuckkkkkk.
She doesn’t swallow, instead letting my cum trickle down her chin, splattering onto her tits. And my camera catches it all. God, if anyone was still watching this and they hadn’t bust a nut already, they were about to. I watch as she leans back to give the viewers one last look at her, in her harness, tiny skirt and my cum coating her body. With a finger, she lazily rubs the slickness in, tracing shapes over her breasts, letting it catch in the light.
“That’s the end of the show, folks,” I murmur with a chuckle as she reaches up to remove the blindfold. I keep the camera trained on the strip of fabric as it falls to the floor, keeping her identity to myself. She is mine.
Cameras off, I offer a hand and help Ruby to her feet.
She stretches, and winces slightly as her body registers what I’d just put it through. “So what now?”
I cock my head at her as she bends over the desk, watching the monitor. That thong was a waste of material, just a few steps, and I could be back inside her easily. All her creamy skin is begging to be marked, to be dirtied as she stands, exposed. I rub the back of my neck, trying to reign in my impulses. “What do you mean?”
She laughs, looking at me over her shoulder. “Carter, look how much money we just made. Look at all those hearts and gifts.”
“It’s a fluke because the network is down.” Pulling my trousers on, I ignore the way she watches me. She wants a repeat performance, I can see it on her face, but I can’t go there. This was good...but it wasn’t enough. There’s a reason I never fuck my cam girls, because vanilla never satisfies my cravings.
Scoffing, she pulls the cups of her demi bra back up, covering her nipples. “No, it’s not. It’s because we’re hot together.”
I tilt my head. “No more than you and Dex.”
With a shrug and an eye roll, she looks down at the dried cum coating her body. “Fine, whatever. I need a shower. Can I use yours?”
The studio was a huge open space, but towards the back there was a metal staircase that led up to my apartment. “Yeah, go ahead. Towels are in the cupboard next to the bathroom.”
It was convenient living where I worked, especially since these shows tended to be on until late, but that didn’t mean I made a habit of letting people into my living space. In fact, she was the first.
I can hear her climbing the stairs to my apartment, but it isn’t until she reaches the last step that panic sets in. My heart stops as I hear her push open that door, and I dash to the stairs, knowing it was too late. She was about to enter my personal space and come face-to-face with my obsession.
Chapter Eight
Ruby
I push open the door, my eyes adjusting to the light from a lamp next to the sofa. The place isn’t fancy, with a small living room that opens into a kitchen area and two doors, one I’m guessing is a bathroom and the other a bedroom.
Taking a step towards the door closest to me, I pause. Carter’s living room is plastered with prints, and I didn't expect anything less, he was born to be a photographer. What surprises me is the fact that they’re all…me. Some of them aren’t even from the studio, there’s one from the coffee shop the other day, one of me walking across campus, another in a park. Was he following me? Was he the eyes I felt on me everywhere I went?
I turn to examine another wall, but these images aren’t me. No, they’re of women in various stages of...I don’t know. Terror? Fear? My mind goes back to his orgasm exhibition, and this is reminiscent of it, but darker. A lot darker and more in line with another of his shows that I had seen. These women are bound, crying...some are even bleeding. There are bloody knives, a whip spattered with crimson and even a few images of hands around throats. His hands. I’d recognise them anywhere.
“Ruby, it’s not what you think!” Carter is breathless as he tries to explain. “I didn’t follow you everywhere…just sometimes after we finished filming.”
I should be horrified. A small part of me is horrified. But on another level, I’m captivated. The colour contrasts, the way he plays with the lighting, the blood clashing with the darkness—it’s mesmerizing.
“Was this consensual?” Gently, I touch the image of a woman with her skin cut, red-ribboned flesh filling the frame with fat ruby droplets trickling down the curves of her body.
“Some people want the right to refuse taken away,” he says with a shrug, grabbing a packet of cigarettes from the coffee table. “You’re calmer than I thought you would be, faced with this.”
I can’t help staring at him for a few minutes, he’s back to being cool and aloof, but I can see the tension in his body. It’s the way he sets his shoulders, and how his fingers twitch as he lights up. He’s waiting for me to react, waiting for my fight or flight to kick in. If only he knew…
“Processing,” I whisper, as another thought occurs to me. “Are you the one leaving me roses and chocolates?”
He arches his brow, as if I’m being ludicrous, when he’s the one with torture porn as wallpaper. “No. Why would I do that?”
I snort, waving a dismissive hand at his pictures. “You’re right. This isn’t the work of someone who leaves presents.”
Stepping towards me, his voice is laced with concern as he asks, “Do you have a stalker?”
“I suppose so…” I shrug, I’d been getting flowers for weeks now. The chocolates were just every now and again, and they were delicious, so I wasn’t concerned. It’s not like anything had been done to me, or I’d noticed anyone threatening. What was the harm in having an admirer?
Exhaling a plume of smoke, he leans back against the doorframe. “I never noticed anyone…”
“When you were stalking me?” I finish for him with a smile. “Is this why you wouldn’t let me get closer to you?”
“I have strange tastes...and you are in college, training to be a doctor. It’s why I never followed you on campus—why I tried to stay away. I can’t bring you into the world I live in.”
His need to protect my innocence makes me chuckle. “You’re worried about corrupting me? That’s laughable. You film me, making money, having sex or getting myself off on camera. I already have two feet firmly planted in your world.”
He glares at me, as if he wants to protest or say something that will piss me off, but I just smile sweetly in response. “Go and shower, I’ll walk you home.”
I unhook my harness, before shimmying my skirt down and leaving it on the floor. “What? As in following me with your camera in the shadows, or like my knight in shining armour protecting me from my real stalker?”
I exaggerate the words ‘real stalker,’ and my stomach knots at the awkward look that flashes on his face. Teasing Carter was my new favourite game. It seemed that Mr. Photographer, too virtuous to touch his girls, was just a big, fat liar. He was filthy, a
nd his hands were bloody, and that didn’t appal me the way it should. In fact, I had expected it.
“Which would you prefer?” His perfect mask had been shattered, and now he was nonchalant. I like it. It makes me want to dig my teeth into him.
“Hey, sadist...Want to play a little game?” I say as I toss my thong at him.
He pockets the scrap of fabric before breathing out another cloud of smoke. “Go on…”
Good boy. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. “If I spot you, you have to grant me a wish.”
I want to trace the arch of his raised brow with my tongue, wiping that cocky look from his face. He brushes the corner of his mouth with his thumb, cigarette knocking ash to the floor. “And if you don’t?”
I unhook the bra, and throw it aside, standing before him completely bare. Vulnerable. Exactly how he likes his women. “I’ll let you cut me.” I lock eyes with him, and there’s no mistaking the interest flashing in them, before I hammer the final nail in the coffin. “And you can film it.”
The smirk he gives me makes me curl my toes. “Don’t make deals with the devil.”
“Hardly a devil, just an artist with a kink. Get over yourself.” With a shrug, I step into the shower and turn on the water. “Don’t forget to keep an eye out for my real stalker.”
Things were just getting interesting, and I wasn’t about to let Carter pull away from this. Weird fetishes didn’t deter me, we all have skeletons in our closets. We all have secrets.
Chapter Nine
Carter
I grab my hoodie, my camera and my cigarettes, firing off a quick text to Ruby before leaving my apartment. I love games, but finding someone to play with wasn’t always easy. There had been willing women in the past, until they realised exactly what I wanted to do to them. Not everyone likes pain, or art. And that’s okay, but I’d known who and what I was for a very long time. Sadist. I’d heard it so many times in my life, and yet when it came from Ruby’s lips, it was like hearing it for the first time.
I’d give her until Friday, that was five days, to spot me trailing her, and if she couldn’t, then she was mine. No rules, no restrictions, just me, my cameras and whatever punishment I decide to dole out on her creamy flesh. Christ, I was hard again just thinking about what I’d do to her once Friday rolled around. This was why I never got involved with my cam girls, because once I started it was a downward spiral into my depravity. Another reason why I’d been strict in photographing Ruby, I never intruded on her studies and my work schedule kept me preoccupied most of the time. The occasions when I did follow her…well, they were moments of weakness. The exhibition DIX used to recruit me was much milder than I had intended, originally I wanted to showcase some of the pieces Ruby saw in my apartment, not just come faces but the fear that follows the lust. I wanted it to be a room washed with blood and flesh, skin and bone amongst the visceral pleasure and raw pain. However, I’m not a fool, I know that my passions aren’t exactly public viewing material, but Hugh introduced me to people, and through him, I was able to host very special, elite showcases a few times a year for people who shared my tastes. He never asked for details, only a share of whatever profit I made.
Ruby wasn’t supposed to become one of my muses, but now she was a fly caught in my web, and I was about to devour her. There was no other way to get her out of my system, I had to bleed her out. And I’d make her into a masterpiece as I did it.
I’d learned her route home the first week she’d filmed with me, even though I’d forced myself not to follow her home every time. I’d tried to resist her. I mostly failed, but the effort had to count for something, right? There were a few occasions, like the coffee shop, where I’d put myself in her path just to see how she’d react, what I could capture with my lens.
I take a seat on a nearby fire escape that gives me a great view of her dorm, without giving away my position. The rules of the game were clear, if I could follow her for five days, take pictures of her without her contacting me to say she could see me, then I’d win. I settle in, light a cigarette and take pictures of anything that captures my attention.
About an hour later I see her coming down the street, hips swaying as she walked like she always did, which was like everyone was watching. She was an exhibitionist, that’s why she’d been a great cam girl. Great prey. She wanted you to chase her, to stalk her, to follow her into the darkness.
Rubbing my thumb across my bottom lip, I weigh up my options. I could just take her now, drag her into the shadows and fuck her until she was crying my name, filling the night air with overwhelmed sobs. Or I could win our little bet, and then I could take my time. Film her. Hurt her. Make her into the work of art she had the potential to be. Fuck. Ruby was dangerous, and I was sinking into this pit of lust that I couldn’t seem to pull myself out of.
Before I make a decision, I watch her slide her key into the lock and enter the building. Her room was up on the third floor, the window was the third one in from the left. As I wait for the light to switch on, to call it quits for tonight, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
“Was this you?” The text reads, followed by a picture of a note, pinned to what I’m assuming is the door to her dorm room, written in what appears to be...blood. Scrawling handwriting proclaims ‘You are MINE!’
I bite the inside of my cheek, unimpressed that she thinks I would stoop so low as to use shitty horror film tactics.
I press call, and she answers instantly. Before she can say anything, I hiss down the line. “I’m actually insulted.”
“If not you, then who? Did you see anyone suspicious?”
I had seen a few women milling around, but nothing out of the ordinary. “No. Where is your roommate?”
Ruby sighs softly. “She didn’t see or hear anything, she was in the shower when I got back, and it wasn’t there earlier.”
“Notes and fake blood are not my thing,” I scoff, watching the bedroom lamp finally flicker on.
“I think it’s real.” I can almost hear her brain processing, as she whispers down the line. “It...it smells real.”
“That’s why you think it’s me.” Narrowing my eyes, I’m watching every dark shadow, every hiding spot, but nothing moves. There is only me lurking out here. “It’s probably animal blood, go to sleep, stay away from your windows. None of that naked posing you do.”
“You saw.” She laughs, and I feel my dick twitch. How was it that just a couple of hours ago I was fucking her live on camera and now I was sat in the cold like a horny schoolboy waiting for a glimpse of a tit?
“Of course I did.” I all but growl. She liked to stand in her window all the time, sometimes dressed, mostly not. My personal favourite was when she wore just a small towel, plenty of skin on show for my eyes to feast on, but enough modesty preserved so I could fantasize about ruining it. “Ruby...I would never leave you notes or gifts like this. Just remember that.”
Our little game was going to get very complicated if she couldn’t differentiate between me, and whoever the fuck thought they could stake a claim on her. She should call the police, but then that would mean that this little game between us would have to stop too. I wouldn’t be able to follow her, to watch her being her.
Another chuckle. “Gotcha. Scary stalker leaves creepy gifts, sexy stalker leaves nothing. Goodnight Carter.”
She hangs up, but I feel relieved that she seemed less rattled towards the end of our conversation. Did it comfort her to know that I was out here somewhere, watching over her?
Chapter Ten
Ruby
It’s been two days since Carter and I had filmed our little escapade, and it was worth it. The money Hugh had deposited into my bank was a great little ego boost, and the fact it was still being streamed and making royalties at a steady pace was incredible. However, it meant that I only had three days left to spot Carter. I thought I’d seen him once, when I went on a morning jog, and I’d text him to let him know but he’d sent back a picture of him in his apartment, devel
oping some of his images. I don’t know why, but I trusted him to play fairly. It wasn’t like Carter to cheat, which was ironic, the faith I had in him, considering he’d hid his stalking proclivities.
“Rebecca, what time do your lectures finish?” Emma asks as she pulls on her sneakers and checks her reflection in the mirror. Since the bloody note, she’d been even more cautious around me, a little too overbearing as she tried to protect me. Truth be told, she’d been practically glued to me, and it was starting to become exhausting.
Grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl, I take a bite. “Six, but I have astrology club later, so I’ll probably just grab some food and go straight.”
Astrology club was a lie. I was (hopefully) going to get fucked by Carter, on camera and bury myself deeper under his skin. I’d already packed a pinwheel and a small scalpel in my bag after researching piquerism, which I’d learned was a fetish about penetrating the skin with sharp implements. He was going to be mine, even if I had to slice myself open and sew myself shut again.
Emma’s mouth drops open, and I resist the urge to laugh at the look of disbelief she burns into my skin. “You’re still going to go to that?”
Shrugging, I sling my bag over my shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I? Because of the note? I can’t just stop living my life, Em, I refuse to be scared of some spineless creep.”
Her arm darts out, and she grabs my wrist, her grip tight as she pins me in place. “At least let me walk with you to your class this morning. I need to get something from my locker anyway.”
“Okay, sure.” I peel off her fingers, why was she more afraid of my stalker than I was? “We can grab some coffee on the way.”
When we get to campus, I notice people avoiding the area near our lockers, and when we get closer, I’m not surprised. Someone has defaced my locker door with graffiti, writing words like ‘whore,’ ‘cam slut’ and ‘filthy bitch’ over and over again. Some of them have even been scratched into the metal, the anger and jealousy evident. I guess my stalker had seen my shows and put two and two together, but who were they?