I make an appreciative sound as I near the edge, and with a fistful of hair, I grow impatient. Hungry for more. So I begin thrusting hard, ignoring the small gagging noises she makes or the way a tear escapes from under the blindfold. This was my fantasy, one of my tamer ones. I wanted her dirtied and on her knees for me, mouth full of my cock as I took what I wanted. Fuck. Fuckkkkkk.
She doesn’t swallow, instead letting my cum trickle down her chin, splattering onto her tits. And my camera catches it all. God, if anyone was still watching this and they hadn’t bust a nut already, they were about to. I watch as she leans back to give the viewers one last look at her, in her harness, tiny skirt and my cum coating her body. With a finger, she lazily rubs the slickness in, tracing shapes over her breasts, letting it catch in the light.
“That’s the end of the show, folks,” I murmur with a chuckle as she reaches up to remove the blindfold. I keep the camera trained on the strip of fabric as it falls to the floor, keeping her identity to myself. She is mine.
Cameras off, I offer a hand and help Ruby to her feet.
She stretches, and winces slightly as her body registers what I’d just put it through. “So what now?”
I cock my head at her as she bends over the desk, watching the monitor. That thong was a waste of material, just a few steps, and I could be back inside her easily. All her creamy skin is begging to be marked, to be dirtied as she stands, exposed. I rub the back of my neck, trying to reign in my impulses. “What do you mean?”
She laughs, looking at me over her shoulder. “Carter, look how much money we just made. Look at all those hearts and gifts.”
“It’s a fluke because the network is down.” Pulling my trousers on, I ignore the way she watches me. She wants a repeat performance, I can see it on her face, but I can’t go there. This was good...but it wasn’t enough. There’s a reason I never fuck my cam girls, because vanilla never satisfies my cravings.
Scoffing, she pulls the cups of her demi bra back up, covering her nipples. “No, it’s not. It’s because we’re hot together.”
I tilt my head.“No more than you and Dex.”
With a shrug and an eye roll, she looks down at the dried cum coating her body. “Fine, whatever. I need a shower. Can I use yours?”
The studio was a huge open space, but towards the back there was a metal staircase that led up to my apartment. “Yeah, go ahead. Towels are in the cupboard next to the bathroom.”
It was convenient living where I worked, especially since these shows tended to be on until late, but that didn’t mean I made a habit of letting people into my living space. In fact, she was the first.
I can hear her climbing the stairs to my apartment, but it isn’t until she reaches the last step that panic sets in. My heart stops as I hear her push open that door, and I dash to the stairs, knowing it was too late. She was about to enter my personal space and come face-to-face with my obsession.
Chapter Eight
Ruby
I push open the door, my eyes adjusting to the light from a lamp next to the sofa. The place isn’t fancy, with a small living room that opens into a kitchen area and two doors, one I’m guessing is a bathroom and the other a bedroom.
Taking a step towards the door closest to me, I pause. Carter’s living room is plastered with prints, and I didn't expect anything less, he was born to be a photographer. What surprises me is the fact that they’re all…me. Some of them aren’t even from the studio, there’s one from the coffee shop the other day, one of me walking across campus, another in a park. Was he following me? Was he the eyes I felt on me everywhere I went?
I turn to examine another wall, but these images aren’t me. No, they’re of women in various stages of...I don’t know. Terror? Fear? My mind goes back to his orgasm exhibition, and this is reminiscent of it, but darker. A lot darker and more in line with another of his shows that I had seen. These women are bound, crying...some are even bleeding. There are bloody knives, a whip spattered with crimson and even a few images of hands around throats. His hands. I’d recognise them anywhere.
“Ruby, it’s not what you think!” Carter is breathless as he tries to explain. “I didn’t follow you everywhere…just sometimes after we finished filming.”
I should be horrified. A small part of me is horrified. But on another level, I’m captivated. The colour contrasts, the way he plays with the lighting, the blood clashing with the darkness—it’s mesmerizing.
“Was this consensual?” Gently, I touch the image of a woman with her skin cut, red-ribboned flesh filling the frame with fat ruby droplets trickling down the curves of her body.
“Some people want the right to refuse taken away,” he says with a shrug, grabbing a packet of cigarettes from the coffee table. “You’re calmer than I thought you would be, faced with this.”
I can’t help staring at him for a few minutes, he’s back to being cool and aloof, but I can see the tension in his body. It’s the way he sets his shoulders, and how his fingers twitch as he lights up. He’s waiting for me to react, waiting for my fight or flight to kick in. If only he knew…
“Processing,” I whisper, as another thought occurs to me. “Are you the one leaving me roses and chocolates?”
He arches his brow, as if I’m being ludicrous, when he’s the one with torture porn as wallpaper. “No. Why would I do
