6. November 25
This website.
My lips quirk upward so hard as I read and read and read some more.
Everything on here is exactly what I’ve dreamed of for years.
Some of it is clearly people who just want to fantasize, but there are others, some who are far more devious and dark, and I can’t help but get wet just from reading the pleas.
It hadn’t taken me long to route up a new bank account with safeguards in place for my identity and sign up to access everything, paying for the privilege to read these fantasies.
I want to write back, to say something, to share my own desires with people who clearly will understand, but every time I go to type, I hesitate. Something holds me back.
And I hate it.
Passionately.
My fingers tremble as they hover over the keyboard. To type or not to type. That’s been the question raging in my brain for weeks now. Sixteen days, to be exact. And I’ve seen more than enough to know that I’ve found the right people, that this is where I want to be.
A private message pops up on my screen with a resounding ding.
Glancing around the spare bedroom, I instantly lower the volume on the computer so I don’t disturb Reik and so he doesn’t figure out what I’m doing. Not that he’d ever pay close enough attention to actually know what’s going on with me.
BandAid42
Are you just going to watch?
I hold my breath, the tremble running throughout my entire body now.
I don’t dare click on the message. But they have to know that I’ve read it, right?
It sounds like this person is either a bot on the site created to find lurkers and engage them, or it’s an actual person who’s supposed to do the same thing.
Either way, I haven’t managed to stay in the background like I thought.
BandAid42
Do you want to play a game with me?
Ripples of fear wash through me. Standing up and shutting the door with the lock flicked in place, I sit back down at my desk and sigh.
“In for a penny…” I murmur. This is exactly what I want, isn’t it?
F4tNw1ll1ng
What game?
I wait in anticipation of whatever is coming next. I’ll get a response, right? I’m still trembling, my heart racing, because I don’t know what hole I’m about to climb down into, but the thrill is so deep that I know exactly what I want. Whatever is going to happen next will be it. It has to be.
BandAid42
So you do have a voice.
Tell me. Are you a good little slut or a bad one?
My stomach sinks. Slut? How could I ever be considered that?
I’ve barely slept with one person. I mean, I have had sex with a couple different people, but Reik barely even touches me anymore.
He just demands, fucks me like I’m a rag doll, and then rolls off like it was the best of his life.
Biting my lip, I stare at the words on the screen, not quite sure how to respond.
But I guess…pretending I’m someone I want to be is probably the best way to do this, right?
F4tNw1ll1ng
I’ve never done this before.
BandAid42
A virgin. Perfect.
Virgin? My eyes widen as the shock courses through me. I don’t think I’ve ever been called that. But it’s accurate. This is my first time, and it’s terrifying. I sit still, waiting for instructions, because I don’t know what else to do.
BandAid42
How wet are you just thinking about this?
F4tNw1ll1ng
Dripping.
Should I add the “for you” at the end? I very nearly message that, but before I manage, I get a response. One that makes me hesitate before continuing.
BandAid42
It seems you are a good slut.
Everything in my body relaxes. This is exactly what I need to hear. My fantasies aren’t out of line. They aren’t crazy or insane. They’re just me figuring out what I want and more, finding the limits to the truth of who I am. Perhaps figuring out who I want to become.
“Lizzie!” Reik’s voice bounces down the hallway and under the door.
I jump sharply.
“Just a second!” I call to him. Stepping away from the computer, I leave the chat up, scared that if I close out of it, I’ll never figure out who BandAid42 really is. I unlock the door and pop my head out into the hallway. “What can I do for you?” I ask in the sweetest voice I can manage.
But my panties are drenched. I hadn’t realized just how wet I’d gotten from that short amount of conversation, from the thrill of someone else wanting to experience whatever I want with me. From the thought that I’m on the cusp of so much pleasure—
“Mother’s here.” His voice is sharp.
“Oh, right.” I swallow back fear. “I’ll, uh…be right down. I got caught up reading. You know me.” I give him the most shame-filled and ditzy smile I can manage, because he’ll fall for it. He does every single time.
“Brush your hair while you’re at it.” Reik sneers at me.
“Right. I will. Thank you.” I clench my jaw tightly to hold back any other retort because that would only lead us down a path that won’t be beneficial for anyone. I nod at him and slip back into the spare bedroom.
The computer screen calls to me. I rush back, finding three messages I missed in that small interaction. Nerves fill my chest because I can’t have missed anything. I need to know.
BandAid42
Do you want to be fucked as a reward?
How do you want it? Hard. Fast. With a stranger? From behind? Do you want me to squeeze your neck until you can’t breathe? Tell me, my little slut.
Maybe you aren’t a good whore and you just want to watch.
I whimper and clench my thighs together because I swear I’m leaking through my panties and that my juices are flowing down the insides of my legs. Glancing at the still-open doorway, I type as quickly as I can. I should have shut the fucking door.
F4tNw1ll1ng
I don’t. I don’t want to watch.
Bending over the desk, I use the edge of it to keep me upright.
But each time I read over BandAid42’s message, I can’t help but imagine someone behind me, cupping my pussy, fingering me.
Is that what it’d feel like? To have someone want me so fucking bad that they couldn’t help but fuck me while I worked at the computer?
BandAid42
Then what do you want?
“Lizzie!” Reik’s voice echoes again.
I wince so hard. I don’t have time for this, yet my body is on fire and ramped up to go like it has never been before.
But I don’t have time to do anything about it.
Mother’s here, and I need to go downstairs and entertain, pretend to be the vanilla, perfect wife that Reik married, the one person who will cater to him and her without complaint, because that’s the only role that I have.
BandAid42
What. Do. You. Want?
I type back quickly. It’s as if a clock is ticking somewhere, and I can’t make it stop to save my life. And I need to. Because I need to know what BandAid42 wants to do to me. If they even want me. Because they might not. Not after they see me.
F4tNw1ll1ng
Everything. I just want to feel free, taken, wanted. Like I’m the absolute center of someone else’s desire because I am sexy. I want to feel like I’m so irresistible that no one can keep their hands off me.
I hit send and wait. That’s too much. It has to be. There’s no response, and Reik and Mother talk loudly enough downstairs that the murmur of their voices float through the vents in the house. I really can’t wait any longer to make an appearance. I have to get down there.
BandAid42
Do everything I say. Then tomorrow, at 4pm, come and tell me every single detail.
F4tNw1ll1ng
Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving.
BandAid42
I don’t repeat commands.
Instructions flash across the screen. I read through them swiftly.
1. Get a scarf.
2. Tie one end around your neck and the other end around something else with enough tension that it feels nearly painful.
3. Strip naked.
4. Keep the lights on. Place your phone with the camera on, turned on you, and watch everything you do to yourself.
4. Masturbate.
5. Think only of me.
And then they’re gone.
As if they never existed.
My computer flashes brightly before it goes black. I tap the keys, trying to wake it up, but it’s not working. My entire browser has restarted on its own, and the conversation is lost. Sitting heavily in the computer chair, I rake my fingers through my hair and cover my face, sighing into my hands.
“What the hell are you doing, Lizzie?” I mumble to myself.
“Lizzie!” Reik yells again, this time angrier than before.
“Coming!” I shout back.
Damnit.