18. LILLY
18
LILLY
M y stomach flip-flops as I set my phone in the ring light, ready for my evening session with my masked man. Chatting with him is like being on a date with a man who actually listens and doesn’t just want to get into my knickers.
I smooth a hand over my styled wavy hair, pulling it in front of my shoulder to hang down my satin pyjama shirt. Sarge_in_charge might have wanted me to wear my pyjamas, but that doesn’t mean I can’t wear my sexy ones.
“There’s my beautiful nightingale,” a gruff voice says through the dark screen on my phone.
“Hello, sir.” My fingers comb through the waves hanging down my front.
“How are you today?” He dips his head, the black balaclava coming into view.
“Good. I wasn’t working today and managed to get a lot done as well as visit my mum.”
“I can tell things are good. You’re glowing tonight.”
Hairs prickle on the back of my neck. He doesn’t know that part of that is getting to talk to him. I could tell him, but he probably thinks I say that to all my clients. Or past clients. “What about you? How was your day?”
He leans back in the office chair with an exhale under the mask. “It was uneventful. Better now I get to talk to you and see you happy.”
“I’m always happy to talk to you.”
“Really?” His sarcastic tone tells me he doesn’t believe me.
“Of course.” Still combing my fingers through my hair, I say, “I told you it gets lonely living on my own. I look forward to our chats.”
“Is that what you told the other guys?” A small chuckle comes through the mic.
I shuffle on the edge of the bed. He’s becoming more than a client. He’s wormed his way into my head and taken up residence, but I like him there. “We’re all just people wanting a human connection. Whether it’s sexual or just platonic. I got as much out of my lives these past months as my subscribers did.”
“How so?” He leans closer to the screen, resting his masked chin in his gloved hand.
“They made me feel like I had a purpose. Even if it was superficial, they made me feel wanted and a little less alone.”
“Do I make you feel that way?”
“Yes. I just wish you’d take your mask off so I can see who I’m talking to.”
“I need to keep my identity hidden.”
“But why?” I let out a small giggle. “I thought you were a soldier? Are you absent without leave? A deserter?” It’s just my luck. I seem to attract felons.
“No.”
My shoulders drop, but I’m not sure if it’s relief or disappointment. “Are you a spy?”
“You could say that.”
“Interesting.” My skin breaks out in goose bumps, my back straightening. “Who do you spy on?”
“You.”
My mouth parts as tingles race the length of my spine, travelling straight to my centre. “W…what? When?”
He chuckles. “I’m kidding.” He leans closer to the screen. “Unless you want me to spy on you.”
I should say no. Should change this entire conversation. But the thought of him watching me has my pulse quickening. My chest rises and falls rapidly.
“I think you like the idea of being watched, don’t you, nightingale?”
“No.” The word leaves my lips like a breathy whisper.
“Don’t lie to me.” He groans. “Your body’s telling me different.” His finger points at me through the screen. “You’re not wearing a bra and your nipples are hard as bullets under that satin shirt.”
I glance down at my large breasts. He’s right.
“You’re turned on right now, aren’t you?”
There’s no denying it. I was turned on as soon as I heard his voice. “Yes, sir.” When I say those words, my walls clench.
“Do you want me to watch you come?”
“You said you wanted me to keep my clothes on.” Slickness gathers in my shorts. If I were to spread my legs, he’d see the mess I’m making as I shuffle my bottom, trying to catch the seam of my shorts against my clit.
“Fuck what I said. I want to see you. All of you.”
“What about you?” I bite my lip, desperate to see him as well.
“I told you I need to keep my identity hidden.”
“Well, is your cock on the most wanted list as well?” I hold my breath. He might be the one paying me, but if I’m going to do this and get myself off for real, I need to know he’s enjoying it. I need to see it.
“You want to see my dick?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir. Please, sir.”
He angles the camera to his waist, leans back in his chair and pulls the joggers down.
I gasp as his thick, hard, veiny cock springs free, pointing in my direction.
He grips the base of his shaft in his large gloved hand. “Your turn, nightingale.”
I unbutton my shirt, teasingly slow as I rock my hips, seeking the seam of my shorts. Once I reach the last button, my shirt falls open, exposing my breasts and my rosy nipples.
“Beautiful,” he says with a raspy voice, his hand slowly moving up and down his shaft. The head of his cock glistens under the screen light that’s put it in the spotlight like it’s the star of the show. A show I’m thoroughly enjoying.
With his deep, raspy voice, he says, “Spread your legs. Slip your hand beneath your shorts and touch yourself for me, nightingale.”
I do as he asks, moaning and writhing against my hand.
“Don't fake it with me.” His stern, authoritative voice sends shudders down my spine.
My mouth parts as I freeze.
“Don’t give me your fake whimpers. I want to see the real you. I want to know what turns you on and watch you come. You might be able to fake it with everyone else, but not me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take your shorts off and show me how you play with yourself.”
My hand twitches as I hold the waistband of my shorts. I grip the elastic, second guessing myself as a flutter in my stomach reminds me of the first time I did a live. All this time, I’ve managed to keep my bottom half covered, or my thighs together, hiding my pussy, but as I lift my bottom to free my shorts, I know that I’m not going to stop there.
This man can command me to his will and if he says show me how you play with yourself, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Letting my shorts fall at my feet, the wet patch lines the seam, and I spread my legs covered in goose bumps. I swallow the air down my dry throat, my skin itching as I show him how wet I am, slathering my slickness around my folds.
“Good girl.” He continues to fist his erection. “Is that arousal all for me?”
“Yes, sir,” my voice quivers
“Tell me what you like. What’s your deepest desires? What do you think about when you’re getting yourself off?”
I rub circles around my clit, my body shivers each time I hit the right spot. Closing my eyes, I think about my go-to fantasy. “I’m tied up, helpless as a man takes what he wants from me.”
“What man?”
I stop my movements and open my eyes. “I don’t know. He doesn’t have a face in my head, just a man. Any man.”
“Go on. Where are you?”
“At home in bed. He breaks in and ties me up. I struggle and say no, but he takes what he wants anyway, and I secretly like it. I like that he wants me, and only I can get him off.”
“Do you have any handcuffs in that toy box?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to straddle a stack of pillows, ride your favourite dildo and use the egg stimulator I bought you against your clit.” His raspy voice as he instructs me makes my pussy tingle and clench with anticipation. “When you have them where you need them, handcuff yourself to the metal headboard.”
“Yes, sir.” As I stand, moisture pools between my touching thighs. This is something new. Most clients ask me to perform their kinks. I’ve never had a client make me act out my own kink before. Although, technically, it’s not the same. I want the struggle. I want the feel of a strong man pinning me down while he ravishes me. But being tied up or restrained is the closest thing I’ve ever had.
I move the ring light to the side of the bed before I get into position with my toys. Straddling a bunch of pillows between my legs, I lower myself onto my dildo, letting out a moan as it stretches me. It fills me as I sink all the way down and press the smooth silicone of the egg against my sensitive spot.
A buzz from the egg sends an electrical current straight to my core. I jolt at the sensation. Tingles fire off throughout my body, making me shiver and moan.
“You feel that, nightingale? I'm in charge. I own your orgasm. When you come, it's at my hand. I say when you come, got it?”
“Yes, sir.” I rock my hips wanting more, my thick thighs and chunky flesh keeping everything in place where I need it.
He whispers praise through the mic. “That’s it, nightingale. You’re gonna take all that dick. Now handcuff yourself to the top bar on the headboard.”
Once my wrists are bound with my toy handcuffs, I rock my hips. My clit rubs against the egg nestled snugly between my folds and the pillows. With each rock, the dildo hits the spot inside me that makes my moans louder.
“Yes, sing for me nightingale.” Sir’s raspy voice turns me on even more, my whole body trembling uncontrollably.
He’s stroking his shaft, the head weeping at the slit. “You’re so fucking beautiful tied up like that.”
I rotate my hips, wondering what his go-to fantasy is and wanting to do that for him afterwards. “Sir, wh—” I moan as the egg vibration thrums against my core.
A groan of approving pleasure comes from the mic as if it turns him on every time he sends a vibration to my clit. “Did you want to say something?”
With my head tilted back, I pant out the words, “What’s your fantasy, sir?” I face the camera, biting my lip while I wait for him to answer.
After a moment he says, “You on your knees swallowing my dick, your teeth scraping along my shaft.” He shudders as if it’s really happening.
Thoughts of sucking his veiny cock turn me on too, and I rock my hips faster. “Can I come, sir?”
“So soon? You can last a bit longer. I’m not done watching you like this.”
I slow my movements before I come. The need to let go is almost torturous.
“You like being tied up? Is that what’s turning you on right now?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did he ever tie you up?”
“Who?” I stop my hips from moving. With my pre-climax haze, I can’t think straight.
“The guy you were sleeping with, but didn’t actually sleep in a bed with.”
“Ugh. Do we have to talk about him? I don’t want to talk about what I did with any other man. Just know I’ve never done this with anyone else.”
“All right. I want you to imagine you're riding my dick, nightingale. Sing for me when you come.”
I rock back and forth, being a big girl I’ve never enjoyed bouncing. It’s too much hard work, but this is how I get off, rubbing my clit against something hard while hitting the right spot inside. I cry out. My handcuffed wrists clink against the metal headboard, and I grip the pewter bar.
I watch the screen as his hand moves over his shaft faster. His rhythm and pace match my own as I rock faster, chasing my climax up the hill with panting breaths.
“This is all for you, nightingale.” He groans as he spurts ropes of cum all over his black top. And at that moment, my eyes roll back in my head.
The camera forgotten. It’s just him and me as my body clenches and pulses around the dildo, imagining it’s his cock and he’s filling me up. We moan together, milking our release until every last spasm is wrung from my body.
With shaking limbs, I come down from my high, my centre still fluttering against the vibrations. “That was incredible.” I've never been able to come in front of a client before, and I can’t remember ever coming so hard or quick with my toys, either.
“Imagine what it gonna feel like when it’s the real thing.”
My head snaps up to the screen. Another bout of tingles course through my body. I didn’t miss the way he said gonna , like it’s inevitable. Not imagine what it would feel like. This man is certain he’s going to be inside me and when that day comes, I’d be more than willing. There’s something familiar about this man as if he’s the only person in the world who understands me.
The thought of him in real life makes the after-shocks harder, and I sigh as my body trembles for want of the real thing. But I want more with a man than just sex this time. I want a relationship and all the things that come with that, like marriage and a family, the whole shebang.
As exciting as all this is, I don’t think this man can give me those things. But after tonight, I don’t want this to stop.