Chapter 14
Timothy
There were other things I could’ve spent five hundred dollars on, and buying better cameras for my room was not what I thought I’d be spending my scratchie winnings on two weeks ago. But a lot of shit had happened in two weeks, and I needed to be sure that I wasn’t losing my mind.
I’d spent a couple of hours setting them up and then making sure that they recorded well if only the bedside light was on…or only the bathroom light. I’d been refusing to leave my door open when I wasn’t home. My father made a point of opening it, and the invasion of my space was doing my head in.
What was he going to do next? Take the door off the hinges?
That would be enough to make me leave, wouldn’t it?
But what would I do if I left?
Where would I go?
Dad had paid for my accommodation at college, and I didn’t earn enough to live on campus. For a couple of heartbeats, I regret spending so much on cameras. The rest was in my wallet, and I was half tempted to buy a few more scratchies.
Good things come in threes, right?
I found money in a pocket, and then the scratchie, so surely there was something else coming?
My dick gave a twitch. Me. I’d be coming while Farrow filmed…and this time I wanted him to get his dick out. Assuming he had one.
What I was going to do with the footage, I had no idea.
It’s not as though I could sell the video for money.
Sometimes when my friends and I were feeling extra broke, usually because we’d blown all our money on going out, we’d joke about internet porn.
One of my friends had joked about licking my feet…
I’m not so sure he was joking now.
My gaze drifted to my bare toes. Did I have nice feet, or did he like licking feet? I hadn’t asked in case he thought I was interested. On the other hand, if Dad took the door off, making money by letting someone lick my toes seemed like the lesser evil.
I checked the time again, but it was far too early for Farrow to visit.
Dad and my not-quite-evil stepmother were in the lounge room talking and laughing with the TV on in the background.
There’d be a half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, the same as he used to do with Mom.
Everything was the same except for the house.
After she died, he’d bought this house. I assumed she had a life insurance policy that paid out. I guess that was how he paid for my college as well. Money wasn’t something we discussed. We didn’t talk about Mom.
We didn’t talk about a lot of things.
The only thing he cared about was my grades and that I wasn’t hanging out with the wrong people.
Not that he ever defined who the wrong people were.
I was one hundred percent sure that Farrow was the wrong type of person because he was a monster.
Tonight, he wanted me to use a toy, the same as I’d been doing the first night he caught me, except I hadn’t known I was being watched then.
Or had I?
Now that I was letting myself explore the idea of being watched, it had become a turn-on. I’d never been with anyone who wanted to watch or who wanted to use toys.
I moved my desk chair against the door, not because the weight would stop the door from opening, but because it would delay the opening and give me more time to hide what I was doing.
From the top of my wardrobe, I pulled out my bag of toys.
The bag was my old school backpack, which was probably all kinds of wrong, and bundled up inside an old towel were three butt plugs and a dildo.
Not a huge collection, but I wanted to change that.
I planned on using the rest of my winnings to buy something, but it wasn’t the kind of parcel I wanted delivered to the house.
It would be my luck for Dad to open it, and there were questions I did not want to answer.
My fingers brushed over the one I’d used before—no, not that one.
Nor did I want to use the vibrating one with people in the house.
Yeah, the plug was meant to be quiet, but if someone walked past at the wrong time, they might hear something.
Then there was the weighted one, which had been an impulse buy. I’d worn it around campus for short periods, which was fun, but it wouldn’t look good on camera.
So that left the dildo, which was kind of ambitious.
My hole clenched, and I wasn’t sure if it was from anticipation or the memory of the last time I’d used it.
It wasn’t as monstrous…large…as some I’d seen online.
I don’t know if people used them for fun or shock value; either way, the videos had inspired me to upgrade my expectations.
It had three knots, and I hadn’t managed to take the third one—I blamed a lack of practice or incentive.
But I liked the stretch, and I wanted to use the entire knotty length.
When I bought it, I’d been tossing up between a standard dick-looking dildo, the kind that was suitable for having fun without trying to find a hookup. But I talked myself out of it because if I wanted dick, it was out there, so I might as well have something different when home alone.
I closed my eyes and sighed, wishing my collection were bigger. It was going to have to be the knotty dildo. I hadn’t decided what else to add to my collection as there were so many choices, but I was going to have to pick something and arrange its delivery.
For several heartbeats, I considered my options regarding tonight’s performance.
I was being extorted by a monster. Though was it really extortion when I was enjoying myself?
Since I was being extorted, I didn’t need to put on a good show; I only needed to do something. Farrow wouldn’t complain about the toy I chose. I doubt he’d care if I used the same one as the other night.
Apparently, I was the one with standards. If he was recording me, I wanted it to look good. I wanted to look good.
Which meant I needed to prepare. I pulled out the little butt plug and the dildo, shoving the latter beneath my pillow before heading to the bathroom.