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Forgetting everything that came before I laid eyes on Greer is easy. No great loss. Sticking to the plan after our interlude in the elevator, less so. The way her eyes moved over me. Seeing me. Those feelings will be with me forever.
The first time we were together in the tiny metal box, I’d stood to her left and slightly behind her. There’d been no way to really look at me without being obvious. But today? There’d been no hiding from her appraisal when she got on after me.
Maybe, I’d subconsciously tested the water for her reaction. Maybe, I’d been torturing myself with her nearness. Wanting to pretend a universe existed where we could be together on purpose. Where she belonged next to me as we left our home, together.
Never in my wildest fantasies could I have prepared for her reaction to seeing me for the first time. It wasn’t pity on her face. Or apprehension. Not in the slightest.
I hadn’t imagined the way her eyes ate me up, leaving trails of fire everywhere they lingered. Everything in me had screamed to snatch her up and drag her back to my place.
The risk of rejection held me back, and now, I can’t help but be glad for it. It’s far better to hold onto the parts of her life under my control via our contract than to gamble and lose even that.
ChapterEight
Greer
My home isn’t visibly different, but every step beyond the front door feels loaded with weighty expectations. I don’t know how my sugar daddy—gah I need a better nickname for him—arranged things so quickly. The soft hum of discreet cameras trailing me as I carry the multitude of heavily loaded bags to my bedroom makes it clear he’s already done what his email told me he’d do.
My home is now an around the clock cam show for an audience of one. I’ve heard of web shows that are like this, where a few people live in a fully mic’d up apartment, broadcasting their lives for viewers to dissect. I sure never imagined I’d star in a solo exhibit.
Still, I can’t deny the shiver of awareness that trickles down my spine at the idea of him watching me right now. I turn in a small circle next to my bed, searching for signs of cameras. I know they’re here, following my movements, but damned if I can spot any of them.
“Hello out there. Welcome to the Gigi Show. Can you hear me?” Talking to myself felt weird when I first started camming, but I learned really fast that viewers expect audio but aren’t always willing to participate. Something tells me Not-So-Sweet Sugar Daddy is more the silent type than the viewers who want to chat back and forth.
“What do I call you? I can’t keep thinking of you as my Not-So-Sweet Sugar Daddy. I like a mouthful as much as the next girl, but that’s a bit much even for me. You know?” I face the mirror above my dresser and give it an exaggerated wink.
After all, the man paid for a show. Am I right?
You may call me, ‘Sir.’ –Not-So-Sweet Sugar Daddy
I hear the buzz of the incoming message seconds before hidden speakers he must have had installed with the cameras reads the text aloud.
“Not ‘Daddy?” I twirl my hair around the end of my right pointer finger, cocking my hip and turning my toes in like a naughty princess.
Little doll, you can call me Daddy if and when we meet face-to-face. –Not-So-Sweet Sugar Daddy
“Will we be doing that? Meeting face-to-face, I mean?” There was nothing in the contract about in-person contact. I can’t say I hate the idea. Not just because the reality of going without having sex with a real live partner for the full twenty-four months of the contract is a really long time.
Sure, I know there’s not much chance of my Not-So-Sweet Sugar Daddy being a panty-melting hottie like the silver fox in the penthouse a couple floors up from here. But seriously, sex is like pizza. When it’s bad, it’s still pretty fucking awesome. Even if my sugar daddy wants to watch me flick the bean on the regular, it’s not gonna have the same satisfying result as having a probably sexually selfish old dude sweating on top of me while I finger myself to the finish line.
So do I hope we meet face-to-face one day? Yeah, I think I do. Worst case scenario, I can close my eyes and picture the hot rich guy from upstairs while my bossy Sir rails me. Wouldn’t be the first time an active fantasy life saved the day.
For now, I want to watch you box up all the things other men have seen on that sexy little body of yours. - Sir
“Sir, yes, sir!” I march to the closet, twitching my ass far more than I think any real soldier actually would. It’s all for the cause, though. All for the show. And if a little bit of my inner brat peeks out, well, it’s not my fault he didn’t do enough research to see that coming.
Armful after armful of the things I’ve worn on camera go into the cardboard boxes left stacked and ready in my closet. When I come to the T-rex costume I’d worn the last time I cammed before the internet went down and Sir sent me the contract, I’m not sure what mischief gets into me.
I plop on the silly plastic mask and pull my arms tight to my body like stubby dino claws.
“Rawr, I’m a big scary T-rex!” I stomp a few times and turn in a little circle, giggling at how silly that whole cam scene had been. The guy had wanted me to pretend to be a dinosaur chasing around prey while he did…well… whatever he did on the other end of the screen. He’d kept the webcam on his end covered up, so I couldn’t see him the whole time.
I said everything other men saw you in was to go in the boxes. Little doll, do not think because I am not there with you that I can’t punish you when you’re disobedient. Now. Do as you’re told. -Sir
Somehow, while I was gone, in addition to the cameras and microphones, Sir taught my house to read my text messages to me and hid speakers seemingly everywhere. I pull off the mask and toss it into a box with the rest of my panties and bras. It’s a good thing Daddy Moneybags sent me home with so much stuff. Pretty much every decent pair of underwear I own just got eliminated from my wardrobe.
The things he had me get today are definitely nicer than anything already in my closet. I guess I can choose to focus on the little upgrades like that, instead of the bossy growl I hear even through the robot voice of my phone’s read aloud voice blasting through the speakers around me.
Time for my show, little doll. I want to see what you purchased today for me. - Sir
