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Chapter 5
Shelby
“Take that,” I yelled, practically dancing as I shot down another alien in the new game, The Iron Ring, which I was previewing on my YouTube channel. The last level was super exciting, and I couldn’t help but embellish the game with my physical body, so I danced through the fight scenes, relishing the feel of a steel sword in my hand. Well, not my hand, my character Shira’s hand.
My character was part Adelphian and part human, with muscular arms that when I first started playing, I found amusing, but made sense now as the entire game had been incredible battle scenes.
I burst through the doors on the alien spacecraft and sliced through the controls. The ship started spiraling out of control as I raced from room to room looking for any remaining aliens to annihilate before leaving in my hovercraft and heading back to base camp.
The Komitian leader leaped out of the dark, attacking me with a light saber. He was a massive alien in whose eyes I saw conceit, arrogance, and something disparaging like I wasn’t worth battling. Even in the gaming world, I didn’t like being looked down upon and imagined the alien was every asshat out there who had ever underestimated me.
The victory was mine when its green goo coated the ground between its body and its head, the look in its lizard eyes now one of surprise. I fled, making it back to my craft, and escaping before the alien ship crashed. “Ha, take that, Komitians!”
Physically exhausted, my sweaty body dropped onto the couch. I reached for a bottle of water and chugged down half the contents. From my peripheral vision, I could see comment alerts lighting up my laptop that sat on my orange-crate coffee table. One of many back-alley furniture creations I had in my place.
The comments could wait a moment while I caught my breath and allowed myself a much-needed break. Killing that alien had somehow sparked memories of the beautiful giant, Daddy Baldor, coming to my rescue and saving me from Peter. It was fanciful, I knew, but it was my imagination, and I could choose to remember anyway I wished.
How many times had I gotten off in the week since I’d seen him, remembering his hands on my body, the fire he’d lit in my ass and stoked with his powerful hands? Mine drifted to my breasts with the visceral memories. The way he made me come when he clamped down on my breast. Holy hell, sex with Baldor had been the best I’d ever had by a landslide. Nothing else came even close to what he pulled from me that night.
Removing my hands from my breasts, I sat forward watching the steady offering of views and comments pour in at a steady rate. Not a bad day at the office.
Scrolling through the comments, I selected the ones with the largest amount of likes and dislikes in which to respond. Opinions were irrelevant, bad or good didn’t matter, only the traffic matters, so both negative and positive engagement increased my viewer base.
To the online world, I was Shelven, my emoji was a character from the very first game I’d streamed live. Since that first time, three years ago, I’d grown my channel to be in the top five gaming channels in North America and was damn proud of it!
When I’d first started, I put up with a lot of trolls, but with my channel now sponsored, the software program took care of most of those issues, and communication with fans became fun instead of a nightmare. Some of those other gamers coming up through the ranks were what I considered friends. Most people, older especially, couldn’t wrap their brains around having friends you had never met in person. But I learned finding your tribe had nothing at all to do with in-person relationships and everything to do with being a magnet for like-minded individuals. Gaming had filled so many holes in my life.
Yeah, except that hole. You need a real person for that, Shel.
I knew I needed to find a Daddy-Dom like Baldor to fill in the one void in my life that only a relationship with the right man could fill.
Forget like Baldor, take him for yourself.
As if, I argued with myself as I stripped on my way to the bathroom. I giggled as I turned on the taps, imagining what Baldor would say if he saw the trail of strewn clothing from the living room to the bathroom. Not that it was a long trail. My apartment was tiny, but it was mine and I lived exactly as I wished.
Keep telling yourself that.
I stood under the hot water, sighing with contentment. Who said gaming wasn’t a workout?
I leaned my forehead on the shower wall. My thoughts once again drifted to Baldor and our evening at Midgard. I hadn’t been back to the club and why would I? He’d said he was never there and that what we’d shared was a one-time-only experience. I groaned. Why only once, I grumped.
Needing relief, my hands slid to my breasts, gripping and rolling my nipples in my best imitation of what he’d done. His hands were double my size, his fingers strong as he pinched and rolled.
“Oh!” I moaned. “Yes, just like that.” I imagined Baldor in the shower with me, playing my body like an instrument, sliding a hand between my thighs and dipping a finger inside my needy cunt, pressing against the bundle of nerves hiding there. “Fuckkk,” I hissed, circling the hardened nub. My hand, moving faster, picked up the pace as my orgasm drew closer.
I was back in the Middles’ room with Baldor tapping my clit. In the shower, a cry left my lips as a powerful orgasm ripped through me. My body flexed painfully, overcome with intense euphoria. Panting in the aftermath, I kept my head against the shower wall until my pounding heart calmed enough for me to finish washing. As I stared in the mirror, brushing my curls into submission, the cooling pipes belted out a tune. When I’d first heard the musical pipes, I’d thought there were water rats in the pipes, the sounds reminiscent of thousands of tiny feet.
I’d been terrified and kept the bathroom door shut all night in case they scraped out of the pipes and attacked me. I knew better now, after meeting Dahlia in the laundry room, that the old pipes cooling made those sounds. That’s how we became friends at the beginning when we met. But she’d moved up in the world and into a better apartment not long after we met.
Back on the couch with a coke and a bag of chips, once again wondering what Baldor would say about my junk food diet, then admonishing myself for constantly wondering what would Baldor say?
I dismissed thoughts of him and scrolled through the several hundred new comments on my post.
“Hey, Shelven, bet you can’t take on a real man like you did that alien.”
The account holder was Rog Rouge, weird, but probably a handle, like my own that rhymed with my actual name. Occasionally, I could be accused of being a tease to my fans, and this was one of those times.
“I could easily best a man like I did the alien if I could only find a real man!”
