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A Voyeur Pays the Price

By: LaVoix



Comments and feedback welcome on this piece, hopefully the first of a three-part series if the first is well received. Special thanks to Literotica User 'SpreadLegsWetLips' for her help in the Volunteer Editor Programme. Enjoy!

*

Lots of jobs have perks, little things that can make an otherwise intolerable employment bearable, enjoyable even. Maybe you get the occasional freebie. Maybe the people you work with are just really great.

Well, I had neither of those perks. In fact, it occurred to me as I ambled into the alleyway behind Bartlett's Sandwich Emporium, that someone who observed me there and then might have a hard time discerning what possible perks I might enjoy. I was spending my lunch hour loitering outside a rundown fast-food style sandwich place, in the blistering July heat, a full four miles from the second-hand computer repair shop that employed me.

Well they'd be wrong. Admittedly, I would have to admit that I led a fairly sorry existence. I'd worked at "Izzy's Computer Solutions" for three years now, ever since I had dropped out of college. There were five of us working there, dealing mainly with the, shall we say, older clientele who weren't exactly computer-literate, and so most of the stuff we were given to fix was fairly simple, repetitive and boring.

And, admittedly, it was true that even at 23, I was sort of the errand boy and nothing more. It wasn't that I was particularly unskilled or anything - I was just as competent as the others (more or less). It was just that I didn't have the most outgoing of personalities, and I never really fit in with the other guys there. When it came time to dump an unwanted job on someone, "oh Peter can do it" was the go-to solution.

But recently, things had got a whole lot better.

I smirked to myself from the end of the alleyway, checking as usual that no one had seen me come down (always a challenge when you're next to a 'sandwich emporium' and it's lunchtime). I made my way around to the back of the building, where the fans blasted out the smell of fresh bread with a steady drone. Almost there.

I had been doing this for about four weeks now, every lunch hour I would rush down here, running if need be to make sure I was here by 1220 at the latest. This was my 'perk.'

Let me explain.

About a month ago, John, the manager at Izzy's (I never have discovered who 'Izzy' is) decided in his great wisdom that we would start offering a pickup service -- we would collect people's virus-infested laptops, bring them in, and take them back out when done. This wasn't exactly a popular move among the rest of us, but the others soon discovered a neat little solution.

"Oh Peter can do it."

So, four weeks ago, I found myself trying to find Bartlett's Sandwich Emporium, which I had never heard of before, and the owner of which had an old Mac he wanted us to look at. Since I inevitably got lost, I was feeling pretty miserable by the time I eventually got there. I was running into my lunch break, and was a little annoyed when the owner just gave me a key to the storage room on the second floor and left me to get it.

It was clear the room was never used - cobwebs everywhere, and junk lined the floor. I found the Mac, and sat down. I figured I might as well spend my break there since it was nearly over...

And so it was, that I first saw her.

You see, the sandwich place was on the same road that ran behind the Playfair Hotel, one of the classier and more upmarket hotels in town. From the front it was pretty imposing, but from the back - the view that I had from the window on the second floor of this rundown sandwich building -- all you could see was the windows of hotel rooms. And just as it was that I was beginning to get bored of sitting in this graveyard of an attic, I glanced up into one of the rooms, and saw the face of an angel.

OK that sounds cheesy, so let me rephrase that. I looked up, and saw the nipples of an angel.

It was only for a second, but there she was. All I could make it out was a flash of blonde hair, and her very much naked chest, glide by the window.

I had shot up and pressed against the window, but I couldn't see anything anymore. Now maybe someone else, some one more sensible, would have left it there. But people like me, people who work all day in computer shops and go home to their single flat and watch TV all night alone, we don't see much in the way of actual nudity.

So I figured, if I can almost see her from the second floor, maybe I just need to get higher? I rushed downstairs, ignored the obnoxious sandwich seller, raced around the building, hoping desperately there'd be an access to the roof, and there it was. The very same fire exit steps that I was now climbing up, four weeks later.

That first time, I had sprinted up without a second thought. I didn't even think to duck when I reached the roof, in case anyone saw me. I had scanned the hotel building frantically, trying to find my blonde angel again, and there she was. There's a good fifty feet between her window and the edge of this roof, but we were almost exactly level, and I could see her room quite well. It had seemed fairly spacious and luxurious from what I could make out, but that was hardly the focus of my attention. I was transfixed by this vision. My new blonde friend, whom I could now see was completely naked, examining her wardrobe. The pale flesh of her gorgeous buttocks displayed for my eager gaze.

And so it had begun. The next day I had come back at the same time, not optimistic about a repeat showing, but there she was again.

The day after that I brought binoculars.

Maybe there was something reprehensible about all this, maybe I was crossing some fundamental moral line. But I didn't care. For the last four weeks, this had been the highlight of every day, my visits with "Ms. Tits" as I thought of her (yeah so I didn't exactly have a great imagination when it came to names, who cares?).

I felt like I was getting to know her pretty well. Her blonde hair, natural from what I could make out, was straight, and shoulder-length. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties, but her body was kept well-toned and fit. And her body! I'd seen every inch of it over the last month -- usually I caught her getting dressed or undressed for a shower or something. She was quite pale, and it was a good look. Her breasts were perkier than most twenty-year-olds', with the cutest little puffy, pink nipples. On those rare, perfect days when I could see below the waist, her ass was almost enough to make my hands holding the binoculars shake -- round, yet oh-so firm.

And today, here I was again, for my date with Ms. T. The sun was bright, brighter than it had been on that first day. I settled in with my binoculars, lying on my stomach, wondering what would be on offer today.

I didn't have long to wait. The door to what I had decided must be a bathroom (her hair was always wet when she emerged) opened, and she stepped out. I grinned to myself. She was entirely nude.

She was casually brushing her hair while she strolled around the room. Her skin was glistening still from her shower, her milky white ass cheeks on display just for me. The usual fantasies poured through my head. I thought of walking right into that room, imagined seeing that up close, tortured myself imagining what it would be like to actually screw her, there in that room. In my head she grinned as I strode confidently into her room, spread those gorgeous legs to show me up close what I had glimpsed from afar, and groaned and moaned as we fucked on that bed.

She was fumbling with something in her drawer. I pushed the binoculars to my face. Anything that wasn't 'getting dressed' was surely a good thing. When her hand emerged from the drawer, it took a few seconds before I realised what she was holding. It was plastic, purple, and phallic.

It was a dildo.

Ms. Tits -- my perfect, blonde, naked angel -- had a dildo. This was insane, it was like I was living in a porn film. From what I had discerned about the woman, she seemed pretty classy. She obviously rented this expensive suite on a permanent basis, on the brief occasions I had seen her with clothes on, it was always an expensive-looking suit of some kind. Not the sort of woman you thought of as going to her hotel room every lunchtime to get herself off.

She seemed to pause for a moment, giving me a few seconds to feast on the sight of her seemingly perpetually-tensed butt for a few seconds more, before walking into an adjacent room and out of sight.

No -- no! This was torture. I had been tantalised with something beyond anything I had ever seen before -- Ms. Tits furiously masturbating for me -- and now she was out of sight.

I craned forward, as though this would allow me to see through walls. Minutes passed.

I could have left. I really could have. I could have just given up, gone back to work, or something, anything.

But no. Ten minutes I lay there, binoculars pressed to my face, eager for a last glimpse before I left, and oblivious to the world around me...

"Hello."

I'd never really known panic like I felt in that first couple of seconds after hearing that sound. There was someone behind me! I span around, onto my back, and backed up against the railing.

A woman was stood there -- she was well dressed, and she'd been right behind me. Did she know what I'd been doing? She certainly looked angry. She had this really familiar-looking blonde hair...

Oh shit.

I hadn't recognised her immediately, maybe because I wasn't used to seeing her up close and, you know, with her clothes on. But there was no mistaking it now. Same hair, same perfect, pale skin, same slender yet suddenly very imposing body, which her expensive light-black suit seemed to both hide and show off.

"Hi," I answered weakly. She said nothing. She wore an expression of what I can only describe as calm fury -- she only had a slight frown, but her eyes seemed to positively radiate hatred. She knew exactly what had been going on.

I started to get to my feet, but at that moment she struck her foot out and placed it on my chest. There's something about having an angry woman's stiletto heel pressing against your chest that makes you kind of lose it.

"Look! I- I- I was just... I'm sorry!" I blurted out. At this point I was too terrified to think of anything much really. She still didn't say anything. She leant over me slightly, looked me directly in the eyes, and shoved a slip of paper in my top pocket.

I could only meet her gaze for a few seconds, but she continued to stare at me wordlessly after I'd looked down. Just as I was feeling the urge to blurt out something else, she took a step back, turned around, and walked casually back to the fire escape, leaving me to my dazed and confused thoughts.

"Christ Peter, you're an hour late!"

It was true. I had walked back, barely registering where I was going most of the time. I had more pressing things to worry about.

"Sorry John," I mumbled. Without so much at looking at anyone, I strode over to my corner of the room and sank behind my computer.

Fear and confusion were battling it out for prominence in my head. What was she going to do? Successful entrepreneurial businesswomen did not just let you get away with spying on them naked. Surely she would call the police, or had done so already. Would they be able to find me?

The whole situation was so bizarre. Why had she just left without saying a word? How had she known I was there? What, exactly, had just happened?

The more I thought about it, the more miserable I became. Pathetic, low-life Peter. Everyone would know him as the guy who spent his free time spying on girls getting undressed and jacking off, probably.

It was a while before my thoughts stirred from this stupor, and I had fresh reason to feel stupid.

I had forgotten the note.

In all the panic and confusion, I had completely forgotten that she had slipped a piece of paper in my top pocket. Feeling a fresh wave of anxiety, I pulled it out.

It was a URL, handwritten in red ink. It was a long one, and it looked to be for a blog of some kind. Trying to ignore my frayed nerves, I pulled up my laptop (I hadn't done anything remotely like work since I got back) and typed in the address.

It was a blog, belonging to someone called Heather Dean. The way the URL was written meant that it was displaying the posts "oldest-first" so that it started with the first ones, and got more recent as you scrolled down. The first few posts were infrequent and short, and it seemed to belong to someone seriously into "modern feminist theory." It wasn't until I scrolled to a post with a picture that I realised Heather Dean was Ms Ti... was the woman I'd been spying on.

This didn't make things any clearer at all. Why had she sent me a link to her blog? Hope leapt within me at the thought that she simply wanted me to read her theories on gender equality or something, as punishment for 'objectifying women' or whatever. As I scrolled down to more recent posts however, things took a bit of a turn.

There was an entry titled simply 'Voyeur.' I checked the date -- four weeks ago. "Today I was violated in one of the more despicable ways our male brethren have devised..." it began. This wasn't going to be good.

It went on to give a full account of the first time I had seen her -- she had spotted me straight away. I checked the comments. They were many, and they were angry.

Feeling slightly sick, I scrolled down. The next entry was quite long.

"I was struck by the level of interest my last post generated here, about the vermin I caught spying on me. Are any of you really *that* surprised? There is nothing men will not stoop to, to fulfil their baser urges.

I have decided to begin something of a project. You may find this hard to believe, but as I write this the young man (and I use that word in the very loosest sense) is back, in the same place as yesterday! So, I am going to perform an experiment, to demonstrate just how low, how degraded, and how wretched men truly are -- every day that I see him, I will allow him to see me in the same way that he did yesterday.

I hope that in time, you will all come to realise what I learnt long ago -- males, for all their words, seek only to subjugate and violate women for their own pleasure. There are no exceptions.

And of course, if I am proved right, in time there will be retribution.

Heather"

I must have read and re-read the post at least three times. Horror washed over me with every reading -- and what did she mean by 'retribution?' The comments were no solace either. The full force of their hatred for me, their mystery 'vermin,' was overpowering. I sank even further back in my chair.

The posts continued, almost every day. Why hadn't I stopped? I thought miserably. Every post was a chance I had missed to get away. Finally there was today's post, from two hours ago.

"I have decided this experiment has reached its conclusion. Today, dear readers, I confronted my unwelcome visitor on the filthy rooftop that he had made his home. Needless to say, the creature displayed shameless cowardice and could not even look me in the eye.

I know many of you have been wondering and asking what kind of retribution is going to befall him. Well, dear readers, he will be reading this post. And I have a message for him -- you are to come to my hotel room -- the Elizabethan Suite, the very room where you violated my most intimate privacy, at 7pm this evening. Come alone. If you do not, I will take your description to the police, and tell them about your little adventures.

And to my readers, I advise you to check the blog around the same time too...

Heather"

"You OK Peter?" said John, frowning. I had jumped to my feet, backing away from the screen as though it were poisonous.

What was she going to do? Did she want to berate me and humiliate me before calling the police anyway? "Come alone" -- she sounded like she wanted to literally murder me.

"I've gotta go," I mumbled. I slammed the laptop shut and bolted for the door before anyone could reply. I thought I might suffocate if I didn't get some fresh air.

I ended up wandering aimlessly though town. What were my options here? I could just not go. Somehow I doubted Heather was bluffing though -- she knew what I looked like, she may even have taken a picture for all I knew. Of course she would turn me in. I had to go.

I hadn't eaten since breakfast, but I couldn't face eating. Before I knew it, it was half past six. Just go, listen to what she's got to say, and leave, I told myself. Get it over with.

So, at ten to seven I was to be found walking into the reception of the Playfair Hotel. Probably just my imagination, but it felt as though everyone was watching me as I did so.

I knew what floor I needed to go to, and as soon as I stepped out of the left there was a sign for the Elizabethan Suite. I trudged down the corridor like a condemned man. Hand shaking, I knocked twice on the door marked 'Elizabethan.'

The door opened. Heather was wearing the same suit as she had been that afternoon, with a smart, tightly fitting blouse and skirt to go with it. Her striking blonde hair stood out all the more against it.

"In." She stood aside to let me pass. I waked begrudgingly in, unable once again to meet her gaze. I'm a fairly tall guy, but in Heather's presence I felt somehow diminished, like she was towering over me.

If I had been able to focus on anything other than what my fate was going to be, the room itself would have been captivating. It had an ornate wooden table in the centre, with leather armchairs around it and a huge plasma TV on a wall. One wall was entirely taken up with a large window, through which I could easily make out the roof of the Sandwich Emporium. I must have stood out like a signal fire.

I heard the door close softly. Heather said nothing. Without looking at me, she walked over to a minibar and poured herself a glass of wine, leaving me stood awkwardly by the door. The silence seemed to go on for an age. It didn't help that fleeting images of her naked kept coming into my head.

"Do you know why you're here?" she said, finally.

"You wanted me to come," I said quietly. Her gaze was fixed on me now -- her cold blue eyes staring me down.

"Do you know why?" I didn't know what to say. Evidently an answer was required though.

"Because you caught me watching you," I mumbled pathetically. She walked forwards slowly, until she was right in front of me.

Smack.

I stumbled back, reeling from Heather's slap to my face. Her expression displayed utmost loathing.

"You are here, because you have violated me. You invaded my privacy, raped me with your eyes. And now," she strode over to the nearest armchair, "I am going to show you how that feels."

I hadn't spotted it at first, but there was a webcam of some kind atop the armchair. Heather was pressing buttons on it, and a green light appeared on it.

"What's-"

"This," interrupted Heather, "is streaming live onto the internet. Anyone who has visited my blog in the last fifteen minutes will have found a link where they can view this feed." I stared at her uncomprehendingly. "In short, anyone of my followers can watch what is happening here live."

"Why?" I croaked. I didn't see where this was going, but it couldn't be anything good.

"Because you're actions have consequences!" she said venomously. "And you're going to find out what those are." A loud beep filled the air, drawing my attention to a laptop perched on a table behind her. "That sound means someone has commented on the live feed," she said by way of explanation. She turned to the screen. "'He looks just like I imagined -- scrawny and weak'" she quoted. It suddenly hit me that everything I did was being watched by God-knows how many people. I suddenly felt very self-conscious. Heather smiled at my obvious discomfort.


A Voyeur Pays the Price Ch. 02



I'd been in work for almost an hour now, and I'd put this off as long as I could, but it was time to get it over with. I had to check my emails.

I let out an audible groan when my inbox loaded – I had two messages from her, both with the usual subject: 'for Peter.' My eyes darted timidly around the room, paranoid as usual that someone would see them. Only John, the manager of the second hand computer repair shop where I earned my meagre paycheck, was in, and he was paying me no attention whatsoever. I opened the first email, sent last night.

They were from a woman called Heather, a rather successful businesswoman whom I had met in person almost one month ago. It was not an encounter I liked to think about, not that I had much choice. You see up until that meeting I had very unwisely been spending my lunchtimes watching Heather (whom I had once idolised as some kind of kinky, blonde, sex goddess – ha!) in her hotel suite, where I would usually find her entirely nude. Only it had turned out that she was fully aware that I was spying on her, and the whole time she had spent coming up with a very cruel revenge plot.

This email in front of me now had no text or anything, just a picture. Most of her emails were like this. The picture was one of me bending over with legs apart, naked. There was no trace of modesty about it; my cock and balls were clearly visible, dangling between my legs, and my ass cheeks were spread open for the camera. I quickly closed it, unable to look at it. My face wasn't visible in that one at least, but it was in many of the previous photos she had emailed to me.

For that had been her revenge. She had confronted me in my hiding place, made me turn up at her hotel suite, and humiliated me in front of a live streaming webcam. I had been stripped, forced to 'pose' for the camera, and completely broken. It's hard to understand unless you've been in that situation, but the shame and humiliation was almost incapacitating. All the followers on her damn blog had been watching, and ever since that day, the day she had promised that I was 'hers' now to torment as she liked, I had been receiving veiled threats about exposing the photos she had taken throughout – showing them to people I knew. And having seen plenty of them, I was resigned to just doing whatever she wanted. There were shots of me jerking myself off, spreading my legs for the camera, lying spread-eagled on a table with a dildo sticking out of my ass... Let's just say I was in no mood to anger her.

For the past month I had been desperately searching for a solution, but there was no way out. I had even contemplated just running, getting out of town and as far away as possible, but it would be pointless. She had my name, she had my details, she had everything she could need to distribute her little video to all my contacts, or just go to the police to report me as a voyeur and a pervert.

It was barely 10am and I was already utterly miserable. The second email was from earlier this morning, no doubt another humiliating shot of me in some depraved position to taunt me.

But there was no picture, just a short message. I read and re-read it over and over, my heart sinking further every time. This was much worse than any picture.

'Peter.

I trust you have been getting my emails. You know there is much more where they came from, and you know my followers are eager to learn your full name so that they can send their copies to... the right people. They feel it would be justice.

I am inclined to agree. To convince me otherwise, you are to report to my office downtown, at 12pm – I'm in the Grover building, twelfth floor. If I do not see you there, there will be repercussions.

Heather Dean'

I had known that eventually she would get tired of holding this over my head and that sooner or later things would come to a head, but actually reading this made me feel physically sick. Even my hands were shaking.

From the sounds of things, she had all but made up her mind. Did she just want to make me watch her as she destroyed my life? Or did she want to subject me to another ordeal for her enraged followers?

"You alright there Peter?" chuckled John. I was sat with my head buried in my hands. I looked up startled.

"...Yeah." I glanced at the still open email. '12pm' it said – I would have to leave soon, straight away in fact, if I was going to get downtown by then. Damn her. It struck me just then that this was actually happening. I had no way out. I got shakily to my feet. "Actually John. I, erm, I have to... go."

"Go?" John was quick to irritate at the best of times, and he had no great fondness for me to begin with. "Peter you've been here for barely an hour."

"Yeah, well..." Maybe if I'd been thinking clearly, or if I had any kind of backbone, I might have made up an excuse that didn't put my job in danger. But I had other worries right then. "I'll explain tomorrow," I mumbled, walking hurriedly toward the door. "I'm sorry..."

"Hey!" But I was already outside. So on top of everything else this woman had inflicted on me, now she might have made gotten me fired. But if she said 12pm, I didn't want to question it...

It was a very hot day, but I was in no mood to enjoy the Sun. I had a vague idea of where the Grover building was, and in my journey there I alternated between aimless ambling and panicked bursts of speed. I dreaded arriving there, while simultaneously dreaded being late.

Half formed thoughts rushed through my head. I tried to come up with some sort of speech, something that I could say to her that would appease her, make her see sense, or have mercy. But whenever I pictured myself confronting her, the image of her in my mind made me quail. I had fantasised this last month of being able to blackmail her in some way, to turn the tables on her. I knew there was nothing else that would get me out of this mess, but finding any leverage over her was out of the question. She had been completely and depressingly right in what she had said when we last parted company – I was hers.

I found myself downtown with just twenty minutes to go, and I had to jog a little to make it to the Grover building in time. I had seen it before without paying it attention, but looking at it properly for the first time now, I could tell Heather would be quite at home here. It was tall, ornate and majestic looking, with people bustling in and out frequently. I took a breath to steady myself and walked in.

The receptionist in the main foyer glanced up as I entered and looked as though she would say something, but I hurried past her with my eyes averted. No doubt she thought I had no business being in a place like this but I had enough to deal with without explaining things to her. I scurried into an elevator, and headed for the twelfth floor.

I found myself in a wide, professional looking corridor, with sunlight streaming in from a window that offered an impressive view of the whole city. I ignored it – I was perilously close to being late. I passed a sign that read 'H. Dean.' This was it. I followed it down the corridor, and turned the corner.

"Yes?" A middle aged woman looked up at me. She was seated behind a wooden desk, at the edge of a fairly expansive room furnished with comfortable looking leather chairs and magazines. Opposite me was a closed, polished oak door. This was presumably her secretary.

"I'm here to see Heather Dean," I mumbled inaudibly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Heather Dean," I said a little louder, feeling foolish already. "My name's Peter Baines, she asked me to come see her." I saw her look me up and down. Did she know who I was? Had she seen the video? Terrified thoughts rushed through my head in the eternity-filled second of silence that hung in the air.

"Very well, have a seat." I collapsed into a chair by the window. It was a few minutes past noon. That couldn't count as being late, surely? I avoided the secretary's gaze and stared intently out of the window. Any minute now, I'd have to face her again...

A minute passed. Then ten minutes. Then thirty. Did she know I was here? I shot the occasional glance at her secretary, but she was staring at her computer, ignoring me. An hour had passed. I couldn't bare the tension any longer.

"Excuse me. Err, are you sure- does she know I'm here?" I asked her timidly.

"Yes Mr. Baines, I have told her," she said, rather snappishly. "She will call you in when she is ready, please be patient." I slouched back into the chair. Of course she was making me wait. Making me rush out on my boss to be here for 12, and then making me loiter, was exactly her style.

I watched the Sun cross the sky outside the window. The view was truly spectacular, but I honestly did not care. Every minute seemed to last an age, as two o' clock came, then three. There was a toilet in the waiting area, but nothing to eat, and by four o' clock I was starving. Could I just leave? Certainly the secretary didn't seem to even notice I was here – she took calls and typed away, but paid me no heed. Finally, at four thirty, four and a half hours after I had arrived, my reverie was interrupted.

"Ms. Dean will see you now," the secretary declared, glancing up briefly before returning to her screen. I jumped to my feet as though shocked, staring at the closed door that I had been fixated on for most of the afternoon. I was aware that I was shaking again. Please let this be quick, I thought as I shuffled over to the door. My hands were actually trembling as they opened it.

And there she was. She was sat behind her desk, the sunlight streaming in from the window behind her and lighting up her sleek blonde hair, which was tied back behind her head. She was staring at me intently as I closed the door behind me. As usual, she fixated on me with a look of casual loathing. Neither of us said anything. For a second I could meet her gaze, but her icy blue eyes seemed to pierce me, and I had to look away. It was she who broke the silence.

"Hello Peter." I had not missed that voice. "Come closer please, we don't want you bolting for the door now do we?" She was almost smiling now, she had always seemed to enjoy how afraid her presence made me. I walked toward her desk.

"Hi," I muttered, stealing a furtive glance at my tormentor. She was wearing another suit, professional but close-fitting, and very expensive looking. The black contrasted alluringly with her beautiful pale skin, and made me long for the days when this woman had just been a nameless sexual fantasy.

"So, have you been following the blog?"

"No," I lied. In truth I had followed it obsessively, afraid that every entry would reveal all my information to her followers. Instead I just had to read through comment after comment of abuse directed at me.

"Well, the verdict seems to be that it's about time your filthy exploits were made public. They seem to think you haven't quite been punished enough for your appalling voyeurism." She was smiling now, like a predator whose prey is cornered. To my own surprise hatred welled up within me. I snapped.

"You're not the only one who could go public!" I blurted out hurriedly. "You blackmailed me! Humiliated me! You-" I stopped short. Heather had stood up, her brief smile vanished.

"You think you can threaten me?" she spat. "You spend an entire month spying on me, invading my privacy, taking photos of me, and you want to go to the police? Well, by all means Peter. But who will they side with – the wealthy, talented Heather Dean, leered at while she undresses, or the pathetic, low-life sociophobe who gets himself off to spying on naked women?"

I shouldn't have done it. Blackmail would never have worked. I cursed myself at having enraged her so early on. What was I thinking?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." She strolled around her desk, until she was face to face with me. "You're right, I shouldn't have... I mean, what do you want? I... ungh!" I fell to the ground, gasping for air. Heather had driven her knee into the pit of my stomach, knocking the breath painfully out of me.

"Do not ever threaten me again you piece of dirt." I looked up at her, still trying to catch my breath. She stared back down, towering over my hunched figure, without a trace of pity. This was going about as expected.

A short, sharp buzz filled the air. Heather looked up, smiled to herself serenely, and picked up the phone from her desk.

"Thank you Sarah, send her in," she said calmly. Her eyes fell back to me. "There's someone you're going to meet today Peter."

"Huh?" My thoughts seemed to be trickling through concrete and I had no idea what was happening any more. Someone else was coming?

Before I could muster a coherent thought, the door swung open behind me. I turned my head in time to see a girl stride into the room. I hastily got to my feet, embarrassed to be found on the floor.

She was younger than Heather – a lot younger in fact, probably around my twenty like me. That wasn't the only striking difference. Her hair was brown and curly, and fell over her faintly freckled heart-shaped face, and she was actually grinning. She seemed to have dressed to imitate Heather as much as possible though – same expensive white dress shirt, same black business pants, same everything. She was staring right at me.

"Peter, this is Claire, an intern of mine. Claire, Peter."

"Hello," I said weakly. I didn't especially like the way she was staring at me – it wasn't exactly hateful, like Heather, in fact she still had that odd smile on her face. But there was an almost impatient dismissiveness in the way her eyes darted up and down my slender frame. Make no mistake, having someone as attractive as 'Claire' the intern staring at me was not something I had really experienced, and in other circumstances it would be welcome, but this... this was something different. I backed against the table.

"It's really him! Oh wow, I'm not used to seeing him with clothes on," she said after taking in the sight of us both, beaming. My heart sank. She had seen the video. "He's skinnier in real life..."

"Yes it's him," replied Heather behind, making me jump. I was caught between them. "Has Sarah gone?"

"Yes she was leaving when I came in," replied Claire, not taking her eyes off me. There was a slight air of derision in her expression now.

"H-how did you see that video?" I was losing control of this situation entirely, not that I'd had much control to begin with. Heather answered for her.

"Oh she follows my blog, she's a real protégée is Claire," said Heather with a note of genuine pride in her voice. Claire beamed, her not inconsiderable chest sticking out as she did so. I looked away, that was the last thing I needed. "She wanted to meet you herself, and I thought it was an excellent idea." I spun around. Where was this going? Heather seemed delighted at my confused dread.

"Is it true he has to do anything we say?" asked Claire excitedly.

"What? No!" I spun back to face her.

"That's not what I heard," she stated. She seemed to be growing in confidence with every second. "From what I hear, you spend your days watching women getting undressed from the gutter, women who've actually done something with their life, and now all you're doing is paying the price. He does have to do whatever we say right?"

"He does."

"I won't!" I protested. There might be no camera with us this time, but having an actual, physical person in the room with us was almost worse. I wouldn't be humiliated again. Not like last time...

"No? We'll see." Heather hadn't raised her voice, but there was a definite hint of menace to her tone now. I held my breath. "Take off all your clothes. Right now."

It was the command she'd made last time, the command that had started the whole ordeal. Claire giggled as I turned from one to the other, looking for some way out of this. Heather had only to place one hand on her phone, wordlessly, to remind me that there was no way out.

I hated myself – once again I was to be stripped for my tormentor. I could feel both sets of eyes piercing me as my shirt and trousers both fell to the floor. I stood before them, shivering in my underwear; Clair's dry chuckle making clear what she thought of my body. I knew by now that I wouldn't be allowed to stop there, but I wanted to put it off as long as possible. With my back to Claire I slid the last of my clothes down to my ankles, naked once again; Claire wolf whistled in mockery as my buttocks came into her view. I stood up, awkwardly trying to hide my dick with my hands.

Heather walked over to Claire's side, ordering me to turn to face them. Claire's triumphant smirk wasn't nearly as worrying as Heather's purposeful glare.

"Hands by your side," ordered Heather. Claire gave a derisive tut as my cock and balls were laid bare before them.

"He looked bigger on camera!" I didn't know if she was making that up to humiliate me or not (at six inches, it was one of the few things I wasn't self-conscious about) but I turned red all the same, and stared at the floor.

"Not impressed?" asked Heather drily.

"I wasn't really expecting to be impressed to be honest," she sighed in reply, arms folded. My loathing for this newcomer was rising – she was certainly making every effort to appear to be made in her boss's image. Heather dragged me roughly into the middle of the room, Claire grinning enthusiastically at my complete lack of a struggle.

They were circling me now, and I had to fight the urge to cover up again – I knew that would not be well received – and continued to stare fixedly at the ground.

"I suspect he's a lot more impressed with you my dear. Not that it takes much to impress this one."

Claire chuckled and stood right in front of me. The scent of her perfume washed over me. I looked up, trying to avoid staring at her chest – she was smiling at me with her most flirtatious expression.

"Do you like watching me you little pervert?" she asked eagerly. I shook my head, lying. "Pfft." She went back to circling me.

"Men are much more easily aroused than women, it's pathetic," Heather put in. That wasn't she was saying when she was humping my face like some horny teenager, I thought to myself angrily. "They live like animals, constantly the slightest stimulus away from arousal. This one's just like the others." I loudly tutted at this without thinking.

Within seconds Heather had grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to the ground.

"Aaah, aaaah! I'm sorry!"

"Are you disagreeing with me," she demanded through gritted teeth. I was pushed roughly onto my back so that I was lying on the carpeted floor, with Claire standing gleefully at my feet.

"No I-"

"You don't think men are all that pitiful do you? Well, let's put it to the test." She roughly forced my legs apart and Claire's eyes fell to my exposed balls. "If you can make it just thirty seconds without getting off, thirty seconds, I'll let you walk right out that door." I looked up her – there was no mockery in her eyes for once, she really meant that. I could do that...

Heather looked up at Claire and nodded, as though giving her the signal for something prearranged. Claire had the briefest look of unease on her face before seeming to steel herself with a grin. She unbuttoned her shirt.

Somewhat hastily, she pulled away her shirt and threw it to the ground, leaving me to stare up her now very revealed cleavage – her black bra giving a stunning taste of the firm, round breasts beneath. Her delicate hands traced the midline of her flat stomach, pausing at her bellybutton, and only once she reached for her trousers did it occur to me what was happening here. I tried to close my eyes, to block out the image of Claire sliding her trousers down those long, sleek legs, but Heather was right. I couldn't resist. Claire kicked away her shoes with her clothes, and stood by my feet wearing nothing but her bra and a matching pair of tiny black panties, staring triumphantly at my already very erect penis.




A Voyeur Pays the Price Ch. 03



This is the conclusion to the three part story, and was always intended to tie everything up. I do however have a sort of epilogue in mind, that I might get around to writing one day. Thanks for reading, and as always, comments and feedback welcome!

*

I'd had the phone in my hand for nearly an hour now, if I held it much longer the sweat would render it unusable. I knew the number, I knew what I had to do – why was it so hard to just do it?

I had spent the last seven days alternating wildly between fear, excitement, lust, and shame, thinking of nothing but the plan that had germinated in my mind and strangled all other concerns. Looking at the worn printouts now, for the hundredth time, it seemed a lot less simple.

The printouts were emails, which I had printed a week ago during my last... meeting... with a woman called Heather Dean. Heather was about as successful as you can be – she had an excellent job, was wealthy, respected, and beautiful. And she hated me. Ever since she'd first come across me, watching her undress in her hotel suite (at this point I cannot pretend to feel guilty about that), she had devoted herself to destroying me. Twice now she had 'summoned' me, so that she could harass, demean, and humiliate me in the most graphic and obscene way possible.

Except last time, I stumbled across something rather interesting in her office, once she'd had her fun and left me. Something which could get my tormentor in a lot of trouble.

Two days I had spent holed up in my little apartment since then, sat at my computer and obsessively researching what I had found, and making sure it meant what I thought it meant. I didn't even bother phoning work. When my manager e-mailed me telling me not to bother coming back, I barely registered it – all that mattered now was this. And as it turned out, I was right – she was stealing thousands from her company, unbeknownst to anyone. Until now anyway.

Not that she had any idea of course – I'd printed the evidence and bolted, clearing my tracks. She was still sending me her taunting little e-mails, dropping sly hints that she might release her humiliating videos of me, or report my voyeurism to the police. They used to make me quail. Now I just burned with anger.

Anger in the safety of my apartment was one thing, but I still had no idea what to do with this information. Report her anonymously? She'd know it was me, of course she would. She'd take me down with her, without a doubt. Maybe I could confront her myself with the printouts? Yeah, right. The thought of marching up to Heather, whom I could barely look in the eye most times, and threaten or blackmail her, was absurd. She'd take one look at me and laugh, and then start giving more of her 'commands.'

But yet, every so often wild ideas would rush through my mind, ideas of what I could demand of her if I did blackmail her. Images of Heather subjected to all the ordeals I had been subjected to raced through my head. I would picture her stripping for an audience, her having to abandon any trace of modesty for a video camera, her lying naked on her back with a dildo deep inside her... It was almost impossible to picture it properly though – she would never allow anyone to do that to her. The ideas would die almost as soon as they came to me.

And then, five days after our last meeting, she sent another of her emails. It was typically short, and simply said 'Hope you are free next week...' Attached was a picture of a truly monstrous red dildo, thicker than any real cock, and her video camera. She knew full well that my imagination would take over from there, letting me know exactly what she had planned for our next meeting 'next week.'

I snapped. Suddenly the whole situation rearranged itself in my mind – there was no way I was going to throw away this golden opportunity. She had wrecked my life, lost me my job, humiliated and degraded me sexually for the amusement of her followers, with no end in sight, and I was going to let that go because I was scared to face her? I would just have to deal with it...

Now that it was time to make the call though, all the meticulous planning and mental steeling seemed hopelessly inadequate. But, enough was enough – I either did this now or forgot about it. I dialled the number.

"Heather Dean's office." It was her secretary.

"Hello this is Peter Baines can you tell Heather that I want to see her this evening at 6 pm please." I groaned inwardly – I could not have rushed that more.

"Excuse me?"

"This is Peter Baines," I forced myself to speak slower, louder, more confidently. "Could you please tell Heather Dean that I need to see her this evening at 6pm, at her hotel suite. It concerns..." I glanced down at the printout "...account 776809. She'll know what it entails. Thank you, good bye." I hung up and threw the phone onto the couch as though it were a live grenade. Had I sounded too nervous? Had I made it clear enough? Would Heather get the hint? God she'd be furious when she got that message. Had I done the right thing?

Despite the anxiety that had descended on me, I couldn't help but feel a little exhilarated. I'd done it, this was happening! Now I just had to wait.

The afternoon passed quickly. I went over the plan I'd prepared over the last couple of days, rehearsed what I would say, and just generally tried to calm myself down. No word from Heather – would she even turn up? What if she just called the police now? No, I told myself, she'll need to know what I know.

5pm came. I showered, dressed, grabbed the prepared backpack, ran over the plan one last time, and headed for the hotel suite.

Circumstances could not have been more different from the last time I had walked into the lobby of the Playfair hotel, but I found I was just as nervous, if not more so. At least last time I'd had no idea what I was getting into. I'd only been to the suite once before, but my feet seemed to know exactly where to go. At six o' clock on the dot, I was stood in front of the Elizabethan suite once again, telling myself to breathe normally.

I knocked. Three loud knocks.

The door burst open violently, and a set of hands seized me by the collar and pulled me into the room. By the time I'd recovered from the shock I was pinned against the wall of the suite, the door creaking closed beside me. So much for 'she might not even turn up.'

"What, do you think you are doing?" hissed Heather. She was still holding me painfully against the wall, not that I would have dared to move anyway. She looked like she had just come from work – she was still dressed for work anyway, just like all our previous encounters she was smartly dressed, albeit without the suit jacket now. "You think you can just summon me? Is there some confusion about how this works? I own you. I summon you, you ignorant low-life pervert."

Nothing had prepared me for this, for getting the full force of her rage in person. What the hell had I been thinking? I thought miserably. Why had I thought I could get away with this? I tried to come up with some way of backing out of this, of apologising...

"And why were you bleating about that account?" she demanded, after a slight pause. The instant she said it all my doubts and regrets vanished as quickly as they had materialised. She was afraid, I realised. She might be trying to wear the mask of her usual anger, but I had rattled her...

"Let me go," I demanded quietly. With a snort of disgust she released me, backing off a little. Still, I couldn't help but notice the way her eyes darted to my rucksack, the way she was pacing...

"Well? Explain yourself before I call the police!" Without a word, I took off my backpack and pulled out copies of the printouts that I had devoted the last week of my life to. Once I was reasonably sure I could control my hands, I gave them to her.

Heather was doing her best to keep her face expressionless and calm, but I knew I had just confirmed her fears. She scanned the pages, all of them, without moving, before hurling them angrily at the couch behind her.

"You used my computer? You stole documents from my computer?" For a second I genuinely thought she was going to hit me. I had seen her angry before, but this was different, she looked out-of-control angry. I tried to look calm as her rant continued. "You are going to pay for this, you have no idea. You think what you've had so far was bad? You think that was humiliation? Just you wait! Did you like the look of the lobby downstairs? How would you like to have to march naked through there? Jerking your pathetic little cock? You think last week's little show was embarrassing? I'll have you fist fucking your own asshole on the fucking street corner for this! I-"

"No." I cut her off, before she lost control completely. I wasn't so sure I could handle this anymore. "W-we aren't going to do that," I stuttered, "because this is what I'm going to do." This was it. Please let this work. "I'm going to send my copies of those transactions to the police, and to your CEO. If by some miracle you don't go down for embezzlement, you'll definitely lose your job, and your money. A-and you'll never get a position above 'typist' ever again."

I let it sink in for a few seconds. At least she wasn't tearing my skin off straight away. As a matter of fact she looked briefly like she wasn't sure what she would do.

"You don't have anything concrete," she said finally. I only just held back my snort of derision. Between her enraged reaction when she had first read it, and her oddly deflated look now, I knew I had her. My confidence was building with every second.

"We both know that's not true."

"Yes well I could take you down with me Peter," she hissed.

"What, an embarrassing video, voyeurism and stealing a document, versus blackmail and embezzlement? I'm going to need more than just for you to leave me alone Heather." It was the first time I had called her by her first name. I think we both felt the weight of it.

"What do you want?" she asked stiffly. OK, this was the payload.

"This is my proposal. For the next two hours, you will do whatever I ask- whatever I tell you to do. You won't ask questions, you'll just do it. And, after two hours, I'll leave, and we'll never contact each other again. I'll keep my documents, you'll keep the videos, but we'll both keep quiet."

The bombshell hung in the air for an agonisingly long time. I held my breath until I was sure I must be going red. I honestly hadn't been able to predict how she would react. Despair? Fury? Would she even care?

"Do... whatever you want?" she said at last. We both knew exactly what I meant by that. As if to emphasise the point, I pulled out the video recorder I'd bought yesterday.

"Yes. And, I'm going to record everything that happens. Seems only fair..."

"I won't. I won't do it." She looked serious. "Do your worst Peter, you don't have the balls to take me on." I laughed humourlessly.

"After everything you've put me through, you think I'm going to bottle out?" I looked her straight in the eye (God I hated doing that) and I saw the realisation stir in those icy blue eyes of hers. She knew I was serious. She knew I had her.

"Fine, whatever," she snarled. She gave an uncharacteristically frustrated groan and sank back onto her leather couch. It was weirdly unsettling seeing her like this. Nevertheless, my whole body sagged with the sudden relief. I knew she was thinking she could impose her will on me somehow, control what happened for the next two hours, but I was determined to make this count.

As I went over the plan again, I began to smile. Now that hard part was over, I could finally focus on the fun part...

I walked over to her minibar and pulled put a bottle of white wine. I could feel her eyes on the back of my head as I shakily poured myself a glass. I couldn't stand wine, but that wasn't the point. This was what she had done on our first meeting, and I wanted to make it clear that I was in charge.

"Stand up." My first command. She seemed to toy with the idea of refusing, but she did sluggishly get to her feet eventually. I looked her up and down hungrily – natural blonde hair, slim, well-toned figure, pale skin, It had been a long time since I'd thought of Heather as a sex idol, as anything other than an evil, sadistic tormentor bitch, but now it seemed my anonymous Ms. Tits was back, the sexy businesswoman I used to watch from that rooftop. I made a show of turning on the video recorder, making sure it was working. "Take off your clothes."

We both knew that was coming, but still she did not take it well. She grimaced at me, teeth bared, and not for the first time I wondered if she might just attack me.

"I was right about you," she snarled. "You're just a low-life pervert."

"As you say." I took a sip of the wine, trying to hide how disgusting I found it. "Now please, the clothes, take them off." Another pause. "I will report you Heather..."

Heather gave another angry snarl, and started furiously undoing the buttons on her white shirt. This was really happening! I stared unashamedly as her cleavage came into view, held up alluringly by her white bra. No sooner had I run my eyes over the rest of her exposed torso, than she began unceremoniously pulling down her black work pants. This was almost beyond belief – after everything she had done to me, after that whole month feeling like everything was hopeless, I now had my torturer standing before me in her underwear. She didn't look at me. I know that feeling, I thought. An excited glance at the video camera confirmed it was all being recorded.

I took a few steps toward her. She started to take a step back, before apparently deciding she wanted to appear defiant and unconcerned.

"The bra too." Heather tutted with derision, reaching behind her back for the straps. I almost put in a remark about how she would have reacted to my 'tutting,' but suddenly the bra was falling to the ground and all other thoughts went away.

I had never seen her naked tits up close before – from a distance yes, but this was so much better than even my over active imagination could have made them. For a woman well into her thirties they were very perky. Not overly large, but firm. I'm staring at Heather Dean's nipples, I thought to myself incredulously, the mighty Heather Dean has got her tits on show like some cheap stripper. How could I have almost not done this?

I knew she was fighting the urge the cover herself, that she was trying to seem unfazed. Well, that was fine by me. It struck me then, gazing at her as she stood with nothing but her panties, that if I could get her to do that, the rest would surely be easier, now that she had agreed to this first humiliation.

"Happy now?"

"I guess. I mean it's nothing I haven't seen before." I knew she would rise to that taunt and I wasn't disappointed. She bolted for me, ready to strike me any way she could. All I had to do was take out my phone though, and the once formidable Heather Dean stopped dead. For another second or so I thought she was going to just go for it anyway, but no. She saw sense, even if it made her hate herself.

"Fuck you," she said quietly. I smiled grimly, picked up the camera, and walked out to stand before her. Even scowling like that, she was still beautiful, still unbearably sexy.

"You think this is embarrassing?" I queried. I began caressing and squeezing her left breast with my free hand. She made to push my hand away, but I persisted. "You think this is degrading, being filmed like this?" I unbuckled my jeans, letting them fall to ankles. Still she didn't answer. "You've got a lot of catching up to do Heather..."

"You can't 'degrade' me," she said at last, with a trace of her old defiance. "We both know you'll always be my little bitch Peter." The angry retort died in my throat, and I smiled instead.

"On your knees." I made to put my hands on her shoulders, in case she needed encouragement, but she threw them off angrily, and crouched before me. She had nothing to look at but my crotch, and the very visible bulge where my dick was straining against my underwear. "I'll let you take them off..."

"It never was very impressive," she muttered as she pulled those too to my ankles, letting my cock spring out. "You should read some of the comments on that video – they all thought it was pathetic." Once this little reminder about my first humiliation might have cowed me, but now I was just caught between amusement and mild irritation. Time to show her just how pathetic it felt.

"Yes, yes. Put it in your mouth," I said simply. She looked up in disgust. "Don't make this difficult Heather..."

She gripped my already hard shaft gingerly, as though it were poisonous, and hesitantly wrapped her lips around the head. I had never had a girl go down on me, and it was unlike anything I could have imagined. Not even Heather could take away the overwhelming warm, wet envelopment.

When it became clear she wasn't going to do anything else, I thrust my hips into her face, burying my cock in her mouth. She made a surprised noise of protest but there was nothing she could do. As she swallowed around my hard shaft, her tongue rolled over me, sending me further and further into ecstasy whether she wanted or not. She was all but sucking me off now.

I greedily fucked her open mouth faster and faster, my eyes fixed on the top of Heather's blonde mop of hair. She looked flustered and angry, but I was in my own world by then, no longer caring.

I had fantasised about this for days, and now it was finally happening I knew I was going over the edge very quickly. There didn't seem much point in resisting. For a brief second I thought about warning her, but then her smug face swam before me, the one she wore so often when she had just sprung some hideous surprise on me.

"Gnah!" I spurted my load into her, the first jet hitting the back of her throat, making her gag and throw herself backward in horror. The second jet sprayed over her face. She almost got out of the way for the third one, but I turned just in time to land a stream of cum over her tits.

When I came back down to reality, I was face to face with a visibly disgusted Heather, covered in my ejaculate. I brought the camera up to take in the sight.

"Why the fuck didn't you warn me you couldn't last past one minute?" She didn't even seem able to bring herself to touch it. "OK fuck this. Fuck this and fuck you!" She stormed away to her discarded bra. "Do your worst Peter, we're done here. Turn off that fucking camera."

"If you really thought that was an option, you wouldn't be standing here topless with cum dripping from your nipples." We both knew it – if she'd had the slightest hope that there was another way, she wouldn't have gone this far. She looked down in dismay at her almost naked body – her chest was covered in the sticky white stuff, as were her cheeks and nose, not to mention the load she'd had to swallow.

"Yes, well... you've had your 'revenge.' We're even," she replied lamely.

"Even?" I stepped out of the jeans still around my ankles, casting aside the shoes and socks too. "We're just getting started here." My shirt came off too, leaving me naked. I had been naked in this suite last time I had been here – I had been so mortified I couldn't even look up. It could not be more different this time – this time I took a perverse delight in making Heather see me naked. Still, it wouldn't do to have only one of us like this. "Now take off the last of your clothes Heather, you're still a little overdressed."

She threw down her bra and swore under her breath, but only when I started to walk toward her to yank them down myself did she obey my order. I zoomed in the camera to her crotch to capture the moment, the moment Heather Dean was forced to get her pussy out.




A Voyeur Pays the Price Ch. 03



I had seen this before of course, but in rather different circumstances, as she was raping my face over on that table. I zoomed in as far as I could on her newly exposed pussy, taking in the light hair and puffy lips. This time would be somewhat different...

She seemed to sense the camera's attention, and this time she couldn't help but cover up, hiding her crotch with her hands and looking oddly flustered. I never thought I'd get to see Heather Dean look embarrassed, but here we were. For a fleeting second sympathy rose up within me – she looked so much less formidable, naked like this. But no sooner had it done so than the memories came roaring to the surface. I remembered standing where she was, being made to strip for an online audience. I remembered being forbidden to hide my modesty and listen to the beep-beep-beep of derisive comments. I remembered her smiling as she violated my ass with a dildo. She did not deserve any sympathy from me. Anger and hate rose up to quench the pity.

"Move your hands," I barked. She obeyed – every command seemed to have less and less resistance now. "Now, what was it you did next? When you'd made me strip off?" She stared daggers at me, knowing full well what she'd done, but said nothing. "Yeah that was it – 'poses.'"

"Just get them over with..."

"Very well," I grinned. "Sit on that table, the one you made me jerk off on. Good, now spread your legs nice and wide..." Sullenly and hatefully, she nevertheless did everything I asked her to do. She spread her legs on the table, giving the camera a gorgeous shot of her delicate pussy lips. I even got her to spread the lips with her fingers, flashing the soft pink interior of her tight little hole. Drunk with my newfound power, I couldn't stop there. I had her squeeze her breasts, and lift her legs up in the air for the hungry recorder, and my hungrier gaze. When I was sure there would be no more protestations, I had her bend forward over the table with her ass in the air. The number of times I'd fantasised about having her in this position in the old days...

"Now, spread those cheeks for the camera Heather." This time she did pause, and I knew she wanted to snap at me, but nothing came. With a small sigh, she brusquely grabbed her buttocks and prised them open. The last of her modesty was gone as she crudely displayed the little brown bud of her asshole. There was no part of her body left now that she hadn't shown off for me.

It wasn't until I felt a stirring down below that I remembered I was naked too – it honestly didn't concern me anymore. My hardening cock was a good sign, I'd soon be ready again.

When I was sure I'd got a good shot, I let her stop. She got to her feet, actually red in the face. She knew she'd been posing like a common whore, I supposed, and the shame had robbed her of her usual cutting remarks. I knew from painful experience how hard it is to be cocky when you've been humiliated like that.

"Satisfied?" she said quietly. I saw her eyes flicker briefly to my semi-erect dick.

"Almost. Lie down on the floor, over there, in front of the couch."

"Why..?"

"Just do it." She walked slowly over to where I'd indicated, and lay down on her back. I followed her over. I understood now why she'd always had that infuriating gloating expression her face at times like these – there really was something to relish when the other person was trying to work out was coming.

I stood over her head and pointed the camera down the length of her nude form, giving her no choice but to look up and stare at my balls dangling over her face.

"What are you trying to do? You've had your 'poses.' Just wrap this up n- hey!"

I had crouched over her and grabbed her legs, squatting my scrotum over her face as I did so. Before she knew what was happening I pulled her legs up into the air, further and further, pulling them back over head so that her feet were touching the ground again by her head. She was bent at the neck, her pussy sticking up in the air and her legs splayed open around her head.

"No," she gasped. I smirked at her new position. I could understand her horror – it was hard to imagine a more obscene position. Standing above her like this I could see her completely bared pussy, gaping open, and her ass cheeks were similarly forced apart. Both her holes were on display for me, and she knew it.

"Yes." I backed away and sat on the couch by her head. "Stay like that please," I added, when it seemed she might move out of position. I took the sight in for a few seconds, savouring it. The best thing was, she had no choice but to stare up at her own body like this, to see her pussy open above her. "So, do you like it?"

"Fuck you!" Soon, I thought.

"Do you want to come down?"

"Yes," she said, through gritted teeth.

"Then this is what you're going to do." She must have known there'd be conditions. "Take your finger, and bury it inside your pussy."

"Please, Peter..." Pleading sounded weird and unnatural in her voice.

"Do it."

"Not on camera..."

"Do it, you don't get a say," I said, a little more forcefully. And with that, she did it. While trying to keep her balance, she brought her middle finger up and sank it between her inviting lips.

At my insistence, she brought her finger in and out, in and out, while I reclined back and watched as she fingered herself. If I'd had any doubts about my ability to get hard again they were completely dispelled. My cock strained at the dirty show Heather was performing.

I couldn't take it much longer – I had to go in for a closeup. She seemed to be having to force her finger in, God it must be tight in there. I had been in her once before, with my tongue, but I'd been in no position to enjoy it at the time, considering the circumstances. Now it was all I could think of.

And, unless I was very much mistaken, her finger was covered in a wet sheen as she finger fucked herself.

"Heather I do believe you're getting wet," I teased. She looked genuinely distraught at this rude betrayal her body had dealt her, and pulled her hand away.

"Please... enough..."

"If you're finished I guess I can take over," I grinned. Before she could protest I traced my finger along her wet slit, and pushed it deep inside her hole. Her warm, pink innards seemed to constrict around me, almost sucking me in. Heather's ongoing attempts to seem unfazed collapsed even further, and she gave an involuntary gasp at the unexpected violation.

I had planned on drawing this out further, teasing and toying with her, but I was harder than I'd ever been, and I had to feel her tight, hot pussy with more than just my finger.

"Stay there." I rushed over to my rucksack and pulled out the last item – a cheap laptop I'd 'acquired' from work a few months ago. I turned it on as I walked back over and put it on the table behind Heather. A few more clicks and it was connected – it was displaying the feed from the camera, live.

"What are you doing?" demanded Heather, a little shakily. She couldn't see the laptop on the table.

"I got this idea from you. You should be grateful it's only showing on this laptop, and not on the internet." When I was satisfied it was all working, I came around and crouched by her head. The meeting so far hadn't lessened the amount of sheer hate she could blast at me just by looking at me. "Now, this is what you're going to do. You're going to take this video camera," I put it in her hands, "and you're going to point at that cute little pussy of yours. And you're going to keep it pointed there."

"You want me to do your job for you?" she spat.

"That's right. And if you don't, if you turn it off, or point it away, or try to damage it in anyway, then I will upload it here and now to the internet. I'll bet your followers will have a few things to say about that." She couldn't hide the apprehension from her face. She'd be good, I knew. "Now, into position..."

She could probably have guessed what was next, but her face remained stony and impassive as she pointed the camera at her own gaping vagina as ordered. I stood over her face, where I could see the laptop over the top of her ass – its screen was filled with a shot of Heather's pussy, with my cock and balls on the edge of vision.

This was it. Ignoring Heather's feeble protests, I grabbed my cock by the shaft and guided the head into her waiting vulva. She gave a loud gasp.

I grasped her ass cheeks with both hands and drove deeper and deeper into her. I hadn't known how badly I'd needed this release until I was physically sinking my cock into her.

I'd had sex before, once. A drunken, awkward, unmemorable encounter that I'd nonetheless clung to as my 'at least I'm not a virgin' card. This was not like that, in any way. Heather's pussy was tighter than I could have ever dreamed, pulling me in, more satisfying than anything else she could offer. I may have seen her naked, made her pose in embarrassing positions, made her masturbate for me, but it wasn't until I was actually inside her, actually penetrating her cunt as she had penetrated me, that I felt I had had my revenge. Only now was her humiliation really beginning.

And she knew it.

"You son of a bitch!" she grunted. I looked at the laptop. From her perspective she had a clear view of her pussy being violated by my dick above her. Time to give her a real show.

I gave a hard thrust, unexpectedly driving into her hole until my balls met her eager lips. Heather groaned but I would give her no time to recover. Again and again I thrust as deep into her hot little cunt as I could, grasping her quivering ass cheeks to steady us both.

Her protests soon gave way to ragged breaths and involuntary gasps and grunts as I smashed into her, filling her up, taking from her everything she'd taken from me. She may have been disgraced and humiliated, and no doubt she'd have given anything not to have to subject herself to this, but no one could say she wasn't wetter than ever now. As repulsed as she was by me, her greedy pussy was betraying her.

Not that I could think of much else other than the sight before me, the obscene view of Heather's two tight little holes – one being stretched open by my thrusting dick, the other being crudely exposed as I spread her ass cheeks as far as I could with my hands, wet with sweat now.

I had come only recently, and as overpowering as this was I wasn't shooting my load any time soon. Both our bodies were slick with sweat before I began to feel the undeniable pressure build, and we were both reduced to animalistic grunts with every vigorous thrust inside her. The only other sound was the rhythmic wet slap as my balls hit her wet vulva with every penetration. If this was going to be the end, I was determined to make her pay for it.

"Do you like that? Do you like my dick inside you?"

"Ughhh..."

"Do you want me to come inside your pussy Heather?"

"No... ohhh." I was so close now.

"If you want... me to pull out... say you like... being fucked."

"Nooo..."

"Do it! Say you like having your sloppy... unghh... cunt... fucked by my cock."

"Peter... gnah!" I couldn't hold back much longer...

"Say it!"

"I- I like having my sloppy cunt fucked by your cock!" she gasped desperately. But it was too late. As soon as I heard her say it, lying though she was, I couldn't hold back. With a buttock in each hand and my dick balls deep inside her, I unloaded torrent after torrent of hot, wet cum into her soaking, warm hole.

Heather cried out when she felt me fill her insides, but in that moment I cared about nothing and no one. This was what it had all been for.

I staggered back and collapsed onto the couch when finished, Heather's suddenly empty pussy still gaping open. The only sounds in the room were our deep breaths as I came back down and she tried unsuccessfully to compose herself.

After a moment or so, Heather brought her legs back down and got to her feet. She was no longer the calm, cool, intimidating entrepreneur who'd once intimidated me so much. Her skin was covered in sweat and, still, my cum. Her sleek blonde hair was a mess now, covering a face which had only a trace of her former defiance. She looked a little unsteady on her feet.

"Stay there," I said quietly. I glanced at the clock – only an hour had passed, I still technically had an hour left. I hadn't really planned past this point, if I still had time left I was just going to draw out her punishment a little longer, see if I couldn't think of some new way to humiliate my tormentor. But I was spent. Still, no need to give her the good news straight away.

I got to my feet and took the camera from her without a word, wandering into the middle of the room. She didn't try to stop me, just stared at me as I did so with a sort of weary disgust. I did feel a sort of thrill at knowing she could never feel superior to me again, after that. I wondered if I should play the film back for us both? That might be a fun way to finish off – both of us sat on the couch naked, watching footage of her being stripped and fucked. Perfect.

"I need a towel," I announced. I was getting sweat on the recorder, wouldn't do to break it and rob Heather of her film.

"Bathroom," she said monotonously. She was still stood where I had left her, trying to regain some composure. I strode off to the bathroom I'd seen her emerge from all those weeks ago. "No, wait!" she cried out, suddenly alarmed.

As soon as I stepped into the cavernous bathroom, with its ornate round bathtub and delicate scents, the first thing I saw was a large cardboard box by the door, like the sort you get with online purchases. Against Heather's increasingly desperate protests, I pulled out its contents.

I knew what it was from the feel of it in my hands, before I'd even brought it into the light. It was long, thick, and rubbery. The sheer size of the dildo wasn't apparent until I saw it however. It was well over a foot long, with the end shaped like the head of a penis, and its girth was thicker than any I'd seen her produce yet. Also in the box was some kind of stand or base, a casual examination of which showed that it was meant to fasten to the base of the dildo, allowing it to stick up from the ground. It was the monster she taunted me with by e-mail, just days ago.

"What is this Heather?" I kept my voice as level as possible – somehow I doubted this had been meant for her. She didn't look like she could bring herself to say it. "Who was this for?" I asked, a little more forcefully this time.

"You," she muttered reluctantly – maybe she was trying to be intimidating again.

Of course it was. I looked at it again, and tried to imagine how things would have gone at our next meeting if I'd never found those account details. She would have stripped me again, maybe for a camera, maybe for some other intern, and made me squat over this monstrous dildo, trying to fit it into my ass for the amusement of her and her followers. And she'd had it ready for me today, I thought. She was going to make me do this today. I gripped it hard, my knuckles turning white.

"Here," I spat, throwing the dildo to Heather.

"Peter I didn't-"

"Quiet. I guess we're not finished yet." Heather's face fell as I brought the camera back up to view, instinctively trying to cover her pussy, and naked breasts, for the first time. "Go back to the table and have a seat."

I followed her over, my mind racing again, and my desire to see her humiliated rekindled. To think I'd been about to throw away the last hour, after what she'd had planned for me...

I took my seat on the couch again, with Heather sat facing me on the table where the laptop had been.

"I'm sorry if I went too far," she began, desperation oozing from every syllable, "I just..."

"You were never going to let me go were you? You were never going to stop."

"I would have – today was going to be the last time!"

"What were you going to make me do?" That threw her.

"I- I hadn't planned..."

"Oh, so that monster you're clutching there, that wasn't for me?" She seemed at a loss for words there. "Well if it wasn't for me, I'd hate to deprive you of your toy – spread your legs."

"You don't need the camera for this..." she pleaded.

"Spread them," I repeated through gritted teeth, "show us more of that pretty little hole between your legs." She opened them up. Her pussy was still wet from her pounding earlier – wet, red, and raw. "Now, shove your little toy inside your pussy while I watch."

"I can't! It won't..." she turned red, "it won't... fit..."

"If you're having trouble getting it in I'd be happy to come over and help." That was all the encouragement she needed. She brought the head to entrance of her pussy and awkwardly tried to fumble it in.

After a few failed attempts, she managed to slide the head into her hole – apparently to her own surprise as much as mine, judging from the loud gasp it elicited.

"Keep going," I commanded lazily, stroking my limp cock as I watched greedily. It would take a lot to get me hard a third time, but if I could...

Heather fed the thing in further slowly, inch by inch. She looked both appalled and amazed that her pussy was accommodating such a huge phallus. I zoomed in for a close-up – her lips was stretching obscenely open now.

I made her keep going, until almost half of the dildo had been swallowed up by her hungry cunt. Still not satisfied, I made her fuck herself with it, stuffing it in and out as fast as she could. She may have protested and pleaded, but the rude squelching her pussy made every time she shoved it deep inside her betrayed the wetness of her pussy. I knew that the fact she was deriving pleasure from displaying herself like a whore was more humiliating for her than anything I could do.

As the dildo got wetter and wetter, and her breaths came louder and more haggard, I felt my dick stirring faintly once again. Soon. Heather began to give the occasional moan to match the wet squelching of her pussy. She's actually having to struggle not to come on that thing, I realised. I couldn't imagine a worse humiliation for Heather Dean than to be brought to orgasm against her will.

Suddenly I couldn't take any more. I dropped the camera on the couch, jumped to my feet, rounded the table, and grabbed her by the cheeks. Before she could react, my semi-hard cock had been thrust into her mouth.

"Keep fucking yourself..." I grunted... "and suck my cock." She was wide-eyed with shock, but she didn't pull away. Her hands carried on feeding the plastic cock into her hole while she sucked and licked at the dick thrust into her mouth, more vigorously than she ever had before. Her nipples were rock hard and erect, her thighs were soaked in her own wetness, and her toes were curled. For this moment at least, she seemed to be lost in her humiliation, eagerly filling two of her holes with cock.

It wasn't long before I was hard again, not with this sight before me, and the feel of Heather's hot, wet mouth around my dick. I waited until I knew she was close to the edge before dropping the bombshell I'd been gleefully hiding since I first saw the dildo.

"You know, you're gonna want that cock as lubricated as possible," I whispered to her, "considering what's happening next..."

Heather was dragged back to earth in an instant as she realised where she recognised those words from. She yanked her head back, suddenly aware of what she was doing.

"No!" she gasped fearfully, her eyes wide with realisation. She awkwardly slid the dildo from inside her and staggered to her feet. I could only smile at the piteous state she was in now, as she had smiled at me. "No – I won't do it!"

"We've been through this," I replied lazily. I reached for the discarded dildo at her feet and held it up for us both to see. It was actually dripping with the sticky, wet contents of Heather's pussy – she almost seemed to go red at the sight of such clear evidence of the pleasure she'd given herself.




A Voyeur Pays the Price Ch. 03



"I won't do it!" She even started scooping up her clothes, trying to bring events to a definite end. I wondered how it would have gone for me, if I'd tried to dictate when an ordeal was over, back when the tables were turned.

"Stop." I had the camera in hand again now, just as Heather was about to put her panties on. "If you put so much as one piece of clothing on I will upload this here and now," I warned. Heather drew herself up to her full height.

"I'd rather take us both down than let you do what you've got planned next," she hissed, trying to look imposing and severe again. It was a mistake. Heather had been intimidating and often outright terrifying when she was calm, and composed, and dressed in her expensive suits. When she tried to achieve the same effect now – naked, sweaty, shaking with anger, and with a pussy that was still visibly dripping wet – it just looked comical. It's hard to be afraid of someone who had been sucking your cock just minutes ago at your command.

I tapped a few buttons on the camera, moving back through the footage already obtained, and played a scene back for her. She stared in dull horror at the clip of herself spreading her legs and fucking herself with that enormous dildo. I knew from personal experience that these things are even more obscene that you thought they'd be, the first time you see them from another's perspective.

"Shall I upload?" She shook her head miserably. "Then get on your hands and knees."

"I can't..."

"You didn't give me a choice."

"Please Peter, I'll do anything else..." Her pleas were getting more and more desperate, but I was no more sympathetic than she had been.

"Last chance." Her whole body seemed to go limp as the fight went out of her at last. I was expecting some sort of hate-filled protest as she complied, but there was nothing. She just sank to her knees and got into position, on all fours by the table.

I circled around with the camera, taking in the view. She spread her legs at my insistence, putting her holes on show again. Her wet slit was still swollen and inviting, but that wasn't important now. My attention was fixed by the other puckered little hole above it – wrinkled and clasped tightly shut.

"You will do exactly what I tell you to?"

"Yes," came the weary reply, after a long pause.

"Good. Bring both of your hands around, and spread your buttocks wide open." Again, there was no protest, plea, or insult, she just... did it. Without her arms to support her she had to lay her head on the ground, arching her back and displaying her ass even more lewdly. When she pulled apart her cheeks as I'd told her, there was nothing resembling modesty remaining. "Now, put your finger inside your asshole." Even after everything we'd done, saying those words out loud sounded naughty and rude.

This time she did hesitate. Her finger found the brown bud of her anus easily enough, but she couldn't seem to bring herself to push into it. I knew there was some lubricant in the suite – she'd used it on me last time – but I wanted the first penetration to be a struggle. After a few fumbling probes, her tight anal ring gave way and her finger pushed in.

"How does it feel? Fingering your asshole on camera like a slut?"

"I'm not your slut."

"Not what it looks like from here. Go deeper."

"I can't," she gasped. She probably could have if I'd pushed her, but time was pressing on.

"If you tell me where the baby oil is, I'll let you use that. You remember the baby oil right? The stuff you used when you'd tied me up naked and shoved a dildo in my ass?"

"The bathroom," she groaned through gritted teeth, ignoring my quip. I practically sprinted to get it.

"Here we go, let's get that hole lubed up shall we?" Her finger was still inside her anus up to the first joint, so I liberally poured the stuff over her finger and ass together. "Now... deeper..."

Slowly at first, Heather slid the wet digit into her anus, retracting every few seconds to lubricate her passage and giving the occasional quiet whimper. There was enough oil now, but I couldn't help myself – I poured it all over cheeks, running my hands over her toned buttocks until they glistened with the stuff.

"Have you had enough?" She'd stopped pushing in, now that she was almost at the knuckle. She said nothing – she must have been torn between wanting to stop, and not wanting to move on to what she knew was next. Instead, she wordlessly slid her finger from her rectum – even with this much oil her ass seemed to be trying to suck her back in as she did so. I couldn't wait – I had to feel its tightness for myself.

"Oh!" Without warning I had slid my index finger deep into her asshole, in one smooth motion. Her ass clenched around me in shock and goosebumps rose up on her buttocks. The feeling was intoxicating, knowing I was violating her tightest and most private of holes.

"So Heather, do you prefer fingering your own ass, or do you prefer someone else penetrating it for you?"

"P-please..."

"Choose one."

"Neither... ohh!" She was really squirming now, desperate to get me out of her ass.

"Choose one!"

"The first one."

"Say it!"

"I prefer fingering my own ass..." I knew no matter how old I lived to be then, I would never forget the sound of Heather Dean saying she preferred fingering her own ass to having someone else finger it. I chuckled to myself and pulled out, leaving her asshole to clench shut again.

I gazed down at her for one last examination, before the final act. She was unrecognisable from the woman who'd thrown me against the wall ninety minutes ago – naked, on all fours with her ass in the air, her cheeks glistening with sweat and lubricant, spread open and inviting. Got to make the most of this, I told myself, as I poured the baby oil over my own hard cock. I'll never get this chance again.

"Are you ready?"

"I can't..."

"Open your cheeks again Heather. Spread your ass open for me."

"Nooo!" She crawled forward, away from me, and turned to face me. "Peter we can make a deal," she pleaded, "I'll let you fuck me again, I'll let you do anything, for another hour, just not... that." She made no attempt to cover up, she even spread her legs open for me, as though to show what was on offer as an alternative. She's actually trying to convince me to fuck her pussy, I thought, how did we get to this? I stared at her expressionlessly; she looked so desperate, so submissive, that I almost gave in to pity and agreed. But as had so often happened over the past few days, once again the image of her taunting me as she fucked my ass flashed before me, reigniting my fury.

"Alright," I said calmly. I sat down before her on the floor with my camera. Heather looked confused, but hopeful. She stood up. "Alright Heather, we won't do that. We'll do this instead." I lay back at her feet, cock still standing rigidly to attention, waiting. I ordered her to stand over it, which she did without complaint – she thought she was getting off lightly. "Now, squat over my cock and stuff it into your asshole."

"Peter-" she groaned, but my patience was finished.

"I'll give you one chance, before I upload this video right now. You were right – I wasn't being fair. It wasn't fair that I had to do all the work fucking your ass. So, you're going to ride my dick with your ass, and then we never have to see each other again."

She stood there for a good ten seconds, dithering and trying to think of a way out. She must have known from my stony expression there wasn't one. Her whole body seemed to buckle. I think in that moment she stopped caring what happened.

The camera was ready, and zoomed in, when she finally bent her knees and crouched over my crotch. She had to awkwardly support herself with one arm, while with other she grabbed my penis gingerly. I jumped at the sudden touch. She slid it past her slit, as thought to entice me one last time to take her there, before miserably bringing it around to her waiting anus.

Even up until then I hadn't been completely sure she would do it. But without any input from me, she sank back onto my hard shaft. I felt the slippery head of up cock probe her sphincter, before it was swallowed by her oiled up hole. She gave a frustrated grunt through gritted teeth as she eased herself further onto it, my dick entering further and further into her ass.

There was no longer any attempt whatsoever to hide from the camera – in this position it would have been impossible. Her pussy was stretched open by her splayed legs, hovering above me, and all her attention was focused on preventing herself from sinking further onto me. Even with all the baby oil, her anus was almost too tight to penetrate – its grip was constricting. God knew how it felt for her.

She let out a low moan, as if in answer, and closed her eyes. It was all I could do to stop myself thrusting upwards into her and give her hole the pounding of a lifetime, but I wanted to savour this moment. It was too precious.

"Deeper! Come on Heather I thought you could take a cock better than this."

"I c-can't," she groaned. She gave a strained whimper every time I moved the head of my cock inside her.

"Maybe you just need to readjust," I teased. I suddenly knew exactly how I wanted to end this. "Swivel around Heather. I know you like showing off your tits and your pussy but I'm bored of them now. Turn around." She started to raise herself off my dick. "No no, I didn't say you could take my cock out of your asshole did I? Swivel Heather."

Slowly and carefully, she manouvered herself into my desired position, remaining pierced on my dick as she steadied herself. Now she had her back to me, and her hair was dangling in front of my face. I got one last shot of my cock enveloped by Heather's buttocks, and put the camera to one side. I didn't want any distractions now.

"Is that better? Can you stuff my cock deeper into your asshole now?"

"N-no."

"I guess I'd better help you out then," I sighed. In one carefully coordinated strike, I knocked her feet from under her with my legs, and at the same time grabbed her wrists and pulled them to the side. All of a sudden she had nothing keeping her suspended – her arms and legs were all in the air. All of her weight was now pulling her down and before she could react, her ass sank down around me until I was balls deep inside her asshole. Releasing her wrists, I brought both hands around and grabbed her breasts firmly.

"NOOO!" she wailed, horrified at the sudden deep penetration. She was lying on top of me now, scrambling with her arms and legs to try and push herself off me, but it was too late. She was mine now. I started thrusting violently in and out of her helpless asshole, all the while playing roughly with her breasts, tweaking and rubbing her erect nipples.

The sudden pounding of her ass sent her into a helpless frenzy, and her failed attempts to prop herself up turned into furious kicks and jerks of her legs. Her low, guttural moans rose in fervour until she was shouting unintelligible cries. Faster and faster I smashed my cock into her, her hole loosening with every furious thrust until there was nothing she could do to resist the ass fucking she had tried so desperately to avoid.

My hungry, exploring hands drifted down her body and found her clit, swollen and sensitive. With the one hand I began playing with her down there, stroking her clit and teasing the entrance to her wet pussy, while the other hand ran up and down the rest of her body. It must have been sending her crazy.

"Do you like... having your asshole... fucked?" I whispered in her ear, my breath almost as ragged as hers. She gave no sign she had heard me, her frenzied moans and screams blocking out all else. I roughly stuffed my fingers into her pussy, fucking it with my fingers in time to the thrusts into her anus.

I knew she'd been close to the edge for a while now – her pussy had been soaked after I fucked her, and that huge dildo would have driven her to orgasm if I hadn't stopped her when I did. In spite of her humiliation, she couldn't deny her body's urges – she was getting off on this. I nibbled on her neck, and rubbed my palm against her clit as my fingers continued to screw her cunt. All this on top of the furious fucking her asshole was taking.

We were both close to the end, but there was one last card to play.

"Come on Heather," I whispered, "you're going to come with my dick in your ass." On that last word I gave one last furious thrust into both her holes, eliciting a deafening scream from Heather. As if on command, her whole body seemed to seize up and start twitching, and the sound of her long pent up screams of ecstasy and pain reverted around the room. To my utter amazement she began humping her ass onto my dick, fucking herself on me without any input from me.

It was all I needed. As my one-time tormentor climaxed loudly above me, I released myself for the third and final time. With an ecstatic groan I filled Heather's ass with my cum, jerking and shuddering in time with her own orgasmic throes.

Heather's animal cries rose and fell with the waves of pleasure crashing through her body, trailing out into haggard groans and gasps. I crashed back to reality seconds before she did, letting the weight of what had just happened settle over me.

That was unexpected.

We lay there in silence for what seemed like an age, our sweaty naked bodies heaving with our panting breaths, my cock still stuffed into her tender asshole. I needed to stand up. I rolled Heather's unprotesting body off me, and pulled away from her. Her asshole gaped open once empty, before clenching shut.

What was there to say? Never had I imagined I could accomplish such a dramatic revenge as this. I had thought I would feel disappointed once my two hours were up, maybe even afraid, but honestly in that moment I was just happy with what I had accomplished. I had my life back, and a hell of a video souvenir to go with it.

Heather wearily got to her hands and knees and crawled over to the sofa, where she sat on the floor, resting her head against the soft cushions. She didn't look at me, but stared determinedly into space, face flushed red. Complain and threaten all you like, I thought, we both know how hard you came just now.

I got dressed. I thought whistling might be a bit much then, but even so I made no attempt to hide my cheerfulness. Heather didn't budge, nor did she try to hide her nakedness.

"So," I said at last. She turned her gaze to me.

"Yes?" She had an odd look in her eyes, that I couldn't read. I obviously didn't need to fear any reprisals anyway.

"You remember our deal. We both keep our... videos... to ourselves, and we tell no one about our meetings. You stop mentioning me on that damn blog, I'll stay well clear of this hotel, and we never contact each other again. Your career will be safe and no one will know about your various... crimes." I scooped my video camera from the floor and packed it back into my backpack, with the laptop. "If either of us break this agreement, the other will release everything they have. Mutually assured destruction I guess. Do we still have a deal?"

She stood up, bringing herself back to her full height. I took in her impressive naked figure one last time – despite her best efforts there was no trace of intimidation left, not with nipples still hard and thighs still soaked. She nodded.

"We have a deal."

"Excellent." I turned my back on her and headed for the door. "Of course, if you ever want a repeat of today, by all means drop me an e-mail," I added with a wry smirk. Instead of the expected furious retort, the last thing I saw before leaving the suite was Heather's puzzled and confused expression, her hands drifting unconsciously to her crotch. Maybe.

It had been a strange five weeks, I reflected as I headed through the hotel reception and out into the cool August evening, but in retrospect, discovering that rooftop vantage point was the best thing that ever happened to me.



A Voyeur Pays the Price Ch. 04 (Epilogue)



This is the epilogue to the 'Voyeur pays the price' series, and is similar in content to part three. If you liked that one, hopefully you'll like this. It goes without saying but obviously this is just idle fantasy, and isn't intended to condone such behaviour in real life. Hope you enjoy it!

*

I was cold, in an unfamiliar part of town, and for the first time in months, really quite afraid of what was about to happen.

It was 5pm, and given that it was mid-January that meant darkening sky, bitter winds, and just a generally bleak atmosphere, even in this area. I was downtown somewhere -- my phone might know where I was going but without it I wouldn't have had a clue. This wasn't a part of town I generally went to, but it was where I had been... 'invited' to go.

Two days ago I had received a phone call from a girl I'd met only once before, a girl called Claire. Nice, friendly girl, you might have thought if you met her on the street. A promising intern, very attractive, maybe twenty years old or so. In any other circumstances a call from a girl like that would have been welcome -- certainly not something I got very often. But as it happened, I had a number of reasons for panicking slightly when I first recognised the voice...

I seemed to have finally found the address I had been given. I was in front of one of the new apartment blocks they'd built a few years ago -- modern, stylish, and fairly expensive from what I had seen. They certainly looked it from the outside.

This was where Claire had told me to come in her phonecall. It hadn't been a long conversation. She'd asked how I was, laughed before I could answer, joked that she'd missed me, and told me to be here, today, at 5pm. And then hung up. I liked to think I no longer had anything to be intimidated by when it came to... this sort of thing, but I hadn't expected the call, didn't know why she wanted to see me, and hadn't really contributed much to the conversation other than stammering out one word replies.

The last time Claire and I had met I'd been in something of a compromised situation. Claire had a boss, Heather, who at the time was blackmailing me into doing whatever she liked. On this particular occasion, that entailed dragging me to her office, inviting along her intern Claire, and humiliating me for Claire's amusement. I was made to strip, forced to perform embarrassing displays of subservience to them both and, as an ultimate final insult, made to submit to a mortifying and degrading ass fucking by Heather's strap-on dildo -- all while Claire giggled and joked and took advantage of me. That was one reason why a call from Claire, six months later, wasn't entirely welcome.

I sighed and pressed the buzzer. At least I was about to find out what this was all about.

"Hello?"

"It's me. Peter."

"Oooh finally. Come on up!"

The door clicked open and I stepped into the warmth. It's OK, I told myself, I'm protected, I have the ultimate defence against whatever it is they think they have planned...

You see, there was a second reason why I was anxious at this sudden contact. Heather's blackmail had come to a sudden end not long after the encounter with Claire, as I found a weapon of my own -- Heather was stealing from her company. I stumbled on the proof, and was able to put an end to Heather's torment in a rather satisfying way -- revenge. I went to Heather's suite, explained the situation, and subjected my once haughty tormentor to everything she had put me through; humiliation on camera, nude poses and, well, let's just say I didn't need a strap-on dildo to get revenge for the ass-fucking she had given me.

But then we had made an agreement -- we would never get in contact again, we would each keep our embarrassing videos, and this would be the end. If either of us broke this agreement, the other had everything they needed to destroy the other's life.

So why was Claire breaking that agreement, I asked myself for the hundredth time as I climbed the stairs to Claire's second floor apartment. Did she not know things had changed? Surely Heather would have at least told her enough to ensure she didn't get her into trouble. Did they both think they'd found some loophole, something to make my weapon useless? Was I about to have revenge dished out to me in the most brutal way possible?

Claire was waiting in the hallway when I reached her apartment, with arms folded and the familiar knowing smirk I had come to despise. Even dressed casually as she was, in loose-fitting T-shirt and jeans, she looked just as amazing as ever. It was just not a person I'd ever expected to see again.

"You're a little late, you might regret that later on!" she teased, before heading inside. I followed close behind. That was ominous.

"What do you mean?" I asked, uncertainly. Stay calm, I tried to tell myself, they can't touch you.

Claire didn't answer me, but headed into her living room. It was really quite luxurious for someone so young, and still just an intern. Everything looked new, and stylish. The TV on the wall was the latest model, and the dining table at the end of the room was furnished with expensive wine. The kitchen was adjoining and the smell of cooking food was immediately obvious. For one wild moment I actually thought Claire had invited me there to have dinner with her.

"Do you know what day it is?" asked Claire, pushing her long black hair from her eyes. I shook my head. "It's Heather's birthday!"

I let that sink in for a second.

"OK..."

Claire picked up a half drunk glass of wine from the counter next to her. "So, I've invited her to dinner here tonight Peter, as a birthday treat. She's always so busy, doing so much, I thought she deserved a treat. And, as a special birthday surprise, you're going to be our waiter!"

"Your... waiter?" Impossible hope stirred within me. Was this really happening?

"Yes Peter a waiter. You'll bring the food out, pour us wine and, well," she giggled, "we might have a bit of fun with you afterward. I think you owe her a special birthday show, don't you? A bit like last time at her office only, well, I think we can go a bit further for her birthday!" And with that she smiled knowingly, looked me up and down with a dismissive glance, and strolled into her kitchen.

This was too good to possibly be true! I let the facts wash over me, making sure I hadn't missed anything. Heather did not I was here. Heather was coming here and didn't know I would be here. Claire, apparently, didn't have the slightest idea that anything had changed since last time she had seen me. Claire was planning a repeat of our last humiliating encounter which meant that Heather would be breaking our agreement without even meaning too!

"Have you spoken to Heather much recently?" I shouted into the kitchen, hoping my grin wasn't audible. I had to contain myself, I couldn't let Claire know anything was amiss.

"Not much, she's very busy these days. Not that you'd know what's that like I suppose." She re-emerged from the kitchen. "Don't you work in some tin pot little computer shop?" I nodded, and tried to look browbeaten. Claire scoffed and started putting glasses on the table. "I bet you look through everyone's computer and jerk yourself off over the pictures on there don't you."

I said nothing. I thought it was funny she should bring up my choice of pornography, given that I still had the recording of my last meeting with Heather. I must have re-watched every second of that video a hundred times by now -- I even had it on my phone. Every shot of Claire's boss naked, every inch of Heather's body, was seared into my mind forever. Claire had no idea.

"Oh don't just stand there Peter, you'll need to get changed, she'll be here soon." She motioned over to the corner at a large shopping bag.

"An apron?" I said, pulling it out. It was a black one, fairly simple and plain -- I'd expected worse. "Shall I put it on?"

"Clever boy!" I bristled at the word 'boy' -- Claire was no older than me, probably even a year or so younger. I held back my retort, I needed to appear meek until Heather got there, and in the meantime I could decide what I would do when she got here. I pulled the apron over my head. "Err, no Peter. No. Just the apron. Clothes off first!"

I should have known, I thought with gritted teeth. I knew Claire found my embarrassment amusing so I feigned only the bare minimum necessary not to arouse suspicion as I once again found myself stripping on command. As I got down to my underwear though, with Claire's eyes darting up and down my slender frame, I couldn't help but feel genuine shame again. I knew tables would be turned soon enough, but for this moment, I was back in that office again, awkward, uncomfortable, and naked.

Claire grinned triumphantly when I pulled down my underwear. "Don't worry Peter, this is one night when you won't disappoint." I turned red despite myself and hurriedly pulled the apron over me. It was a little small, and of course it was completely open at the back. Claire made me turn around, and slapped me playfully on the buttocks as she breezed by.

"We all have a job we're good at Peter, and yours just happens to be being our little anal slut. Sorry!" She glanced down purposefully at the bag, and headed back to the kitchen, while I burned with anger at what she had just called me.

I looked down at the bag the apron had come from, the one she seemed so eager for me to notice, and found that sure enough there was more to it yet. I crouched down as best I could with the close-fitting apron tied around me and peered inside.

I tried to imagine what I would be thinking right now as I saw the contents, if I had never discovered those emails, if I had never gotten out of all this and if tonight really was going to be as Claire wanted. I'd probably be pretty horrified. The bag contained a varied assortment of adult toys -- various dildos, some with straps and of various sizes, butt plugs, a long rubbery chain which I recognised as anal beads and, at the very bottom, a large rubber fist and bottle of baby oil lubricant. This was what Claire had planned for after the meal.

I struggled to contain the fury that had broken over me. Claire, that bitch, took amusement at all this, she even wanted me to see this so I'd know what was coming. I could hear her cluttering around in her kitchen without a care, taking something out of a cupboard. Any second thoughts or mercy I might have had evaporated.

There was little for me to do over the next hour or so but stand around awkwardly. Claire wouldn't let me sit down but didn't really tell me to do anything either, nor did she pay me much attention. She seemed content to let me stand awkwardly by her bag of toys, taking glee from what she must have supposed was my mounting dread and humiliation.

She left for about fifteen minutes, disappearing into her room to get changed. Even after all that had happened there was a still a small part of me that was a little apprehensive of what Heather's reaction would be to all this. I don't mean to say that I was scared of her anymore -- seeing her do all those obscene things at my command last time had made her much less intimidating in my mind -- but she could be somewhat unpredictable and, well, there were two of them...

I couldn't help but give a small gasp when Claire returned. She was wearing an elegant, shimmering black dress that hugged her small figure closely and showed off a little more cleavage than I might have expected of her. Her sleek, black hair had been curled ever so slightly, giving it a wavy look. She looked stunning, extremely beautiful, and we both knew it. She smiled knowingly at my obvious stare -- men's worship of women was a running theme of hers.

"Like it?" she smirked.

"Yeah..." I mumbled stupidly.

The next ten minutes passed in a flurry of activity, at least on Claire's part, as she hurried to get the last minute things ready. I was rather satisfied to note that she looked more than a little stressed when she thought I wasn't looking. If she thought cooking for her boss was stressful, wait until she saw what was actually going to be served...

We both jumped when the doorbell buzzed.

"In the kitchen, be quiet," she hissed, shooing me out of sight. I almost felt sorry for her -- she was so sure Heather was going to be delighted to see her slave appear.

There was a tense silence, then muffled voices from the hallway. And then there it was - the voice I would recognise instantly anywhere.

"Oh Claire I love your apartment!" gushed Heather politely from the living room. She was really here.

"Oh thank you!"

I crouched uncomfortably in the kitchen and listened to them make small talk. It sounded like they hadn't had a proper conversation in a while. Claire was overly enthusiastic about everything Heather said, and even Heather seemed to have a warmth to her voice that I'd never heard. I suppose it wasn't a tone of voice she'd ever had cause to use on me.

"What are we having? It smells delicious."

"I've made some bronzed salmon -- it's nothing fancy." Claire couldn't hold back her laughter at this point. "I've actually got you a special birthday surprise too!"

"Oh Claire you shouldn't have!"

"Oh I'm going to enjoy it just as much Heather! Take a seat, I just need to finish something off."

I could hear a chair scraping, and the sound of Claire's heels making their way to the kitchen. She was beaming brightly when she came into view.

"Right," she whispered softly, laying the salmon on the plates with the rest and turning off the stove. "When I call you through you bring the plates out and set them down without a word." I nodded, tried to picture how Heather would react in a few seconds, and tried to hide my excitement for just a little longer. "Don't speak unless we speak to you, and you do everything we tell you to -- everything. Got it?" Another expressionless nod. Claire smirked again, giving me one last look before she left room. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you there'll be penalties for disobedience." And with a wink and a smile, she headed back out, the genuinely delicious smelling plates of food on the counter beside me. It was a shame, I thought idly -- they were probably never going to be eaten.

"I thought for your birthday I might get some hired help to serve the food," declared Claire triumphantly from the next room.

"Really?"

"Yes, he's in the kitchen now. I hope you like him!" I could practically hear the excitement and self-satisfaction dripping from her every word. "Waiter!"

Show time.

Plates in hand, my best attempt at a calm and blank expression on my face, I sauntered into Claire's living room.

They were sat at the dining table, Claire beaming and Heather looking around confused. It was very surreal seeing Heather again -- I'd watched our little video so much this past six months that seeing her now with clothes on was a little jarring which, funnily enough, had been my thought the very first time we'd met in person. She caught sight of me walking toward the table and didn't at first seem to recognise me. She looked beautiful -- that much was undeniable. She was just as dressed up as Claire, in a long, graceful red dress which, though far less revealing than Claire's, still showed off her athletic figure well. Her natural blonde hair, usually professional and tied back, flowed over her shoulders and pale, stern face. Who'd have thought we'd be meeting again?

I stared fixedly ahead as I approached the table, but the sudden gasp of recognition from Heather was unmistakable. I couldn't hold back a smile as I placed the food gently in front of first Claire, then her boss, and looked Heather straight in the eye. "Hello Heather."

Heather's expression was one of pure horror. She was frozen rigid, her cold blue eyes trying to take in the sight of me in my ridiculous apron and casual smile. We held each other's gaze for three long seconds while she tried desperately to work out what was going on and I relished the new role reversal.

Claire it seemed hadn't noticed anything unusual at all.

"Don't speak unless spoken to Peter!" she scolded me. "Do that again and I'll make you serve the rest of the meal naked. And wipe that grin off your face or we'll start tonight's 'festivities' early." Heather wrenched her horrified gaze from me and shot Claire a sharp look.

"What is he doing here?" she demanded.

"He's your surprise!" Claire seemed a little uncertain at her boss's less than enthusiastic response, but cannoned ahead cheerfully. "You've been so stressed lately what with the Blakeman contract and everything, I thought you could use something to take it all out on, and I know how much we enjoyed playing with him last time so we're going to have a bit of fun tonight!"

"What has he told you?" hissed Heather. She was gripping the edges of the table with white knuckles and at last Claire seemed to realise that something was seriously wrong. Her eyes darted confusedly between the two of us.

"Told me? Nothing, he- What's wrong, did you... did you not want to carry on messing with him?"

"Oh Claire... Claire... what have you done?" She had her head in her hands now, I knew she couldn't bear to look at me. Claire was suddenly looking seriously distraught, this was evidently not the reaction she had expected.

"I just thought we could have a bit of fun!" she protested worriedly. When Heather seemed unable to even bring herself to reply to that I decided to step in at last.

"Oh sorry Claire, did I not mention?" I chipped in with what I knew would be insufferable glee. "Your boss and I have had a 'bit of fun' ourselves since you were involved..." Claire looked anxiously to her boss.

"Heather? What does he mean?"

"I did some... things... that I'm not proud of," she said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah things like having her ass fucked on camera."

Smack. I knew I'd pay for that one but I didn't care. Heather had moved with lightning speed, leapt to her feet and slapped me as hard as she could across the face. "No!" she protested. It hurt more than I'd thought but I was satisfied to see she regretted it instantly. She seemed to be silently begging me not to tell her intern any more details.

"Heather what is going on?"

"He found out some things about me," Heather replied dejectedly. "Something which could get me in a lot of trouble. Then he came to my hotel and blackmailed me," she said, putting particular venom into the word. "Told me he'd go public if I didn't do everything that his sordid imagination could come up with." For an instant it almost looked like she was turning red.

"What did he find out..?" asked Claire. She had gone very pale now.

"It doesn't matter!" she snapped. "Peter we had a deal! We had a deal and I didn't break it -- please... please just go home and we'll forget this ever happened."

"Forget everything?" I gasped in mock astonishment. "I was ordered here by your intern, insulted, forced to dress up in humiliating clothes..." At this I made a show of turning around so that they could see my naked buttocks. Heather groaned. "No no, this is clearly against what we agreed."

"She didn't know!" Heather pleaded. There was a tense silence as both of them stared at me -- Heather desperate and afraid, Claire confused and horrified at the sudden turn. "Peter don't report me, you know I can take you down too..."

I smiled widely -- I had her.

"There will be a penalty," I said at last. Heather steeled herself.

"No, I already-"

"She doesn't have to do what you tell her!" shouted Claire in a very high pitched voice. Confused or not, I knew she hated hearing someone like me talk to her beloved boss like this. "I'm warning you!"

"A penalty for both of you," I added lazily.




A Voyeur Pays the Price Ch. 04 (Epilogue)



"Peter, please..." begged Heather. She'd gone from commanding to pleading very quickly, this was going to be easy.

"You'll do exactly as I tell you or I'll call the police right now."

"You can't..."

"I will."

"Not Claire!"

"Both of you."

There was a long, tense silence in which Heather utterly failed to find any arguments. She knew she was trapped, just as she had last time. With a piteous moan she sank back into her chair and buried her face in her hands, an expression of misery written all over her.

"Fine, just get it over with," she said quietly.

"What? No!" Claire jumped to her feet. "Heather I don't know what he thinks he has over you but he's vermin. Trash! He can't treat you this way and we're not going to let him." She advanced toward me, trying to look menacing. It didn't suit her -- Heather had always been the intimidating one.

"You're the one who made me come here," I reminded her.

"Yes and you deserve it! All that time you spent spying on Heather, you're lucky she never turned you in."

I looked over Heather. "Claire seems to think you should have turned me over to the police. Shall we? Shall we phone them?" Heather didn't even look at me. "Will you tell Claire why you can't, or shall I?"

"Heather just tell me what's going on," Claire pleaded. There was a long silence. Both of us looked to Heather for an answer.

"I was... taking money, from the company." She looked completely crushed at having to admit it, but she'd had no choice.

"Stealing..?" Claire asked. This was probably one revelation too many.

"Not a lot! I was just skimming a percentage off the old pre-2005 accounts! Oh Claire you know what the management are like at that place -- they're pigs. I should be earning twice what I'm on, we both should. But no, we're women, so we don't get our cut. All I did was make things right!" Heather was on her feet again by now, breathing heavily. Claire looked like she was going to be sick.

"And he found out?"

Heather nodded. "He saw the e-mails, the logs I made. He... he blackmailed me..."

Claire turned back to me with a venomous look. Before she could utter a word, Heather said what I'd been waiting to hear, what I knew she would have to say eventually.

"Claire I'm so sorry -- you're going to have to go along with it." Yes!

"W-what?"

"Claire he could finish me! I'd never be hired again!"

"But I haven't done anything!"

"I told you," I said. It was time to take control here. "You brought me here, you dressed me in this. If you don't pay your share of the penalty, I'll turn your psychotic boss in. It'll be your fault." Claire looked from me to her boss in horror, the full weight of the situation dawning on her slowly.

"Please, Claire... I'll make it up to you at work, anything," pleaded Heather. "We just need to stick together on this. Just do his childish little 'penalty' with me and we can never speak of this again."

"I suppose I could make it a relatively mild penalty," I added breezily.

Claire and Heather shared a long, lingering look. Claire's horrified, uncomprehending stare being met only with utter dejection and misery from her boss.

"I'll do it, for you, not for him," she said resentfully, ignoring me and remaining fixated on Heather. "It's OK Heather, we'll find a way to get him."

"Excellent!" I said joyfully, ignoring her last remark. I walked past them and sat down in Claire's seat, just as I'd rehearsed in my mind for the past hour. "Heather sit down, sit down." She didn't budge. "Sit, Heather." She shot me a poisonous look, but retook her seat. Claire watched her mournfully. It must be very surreal seeing her take orders from me, I reflected.

"This is still Heather's birthday -- happy birthday by the way -- and there's still Claire's delicious meal to be had!" I was being as cheery as possible, not that it seemed to be rubbing off on the two girls. "Are you going to eat your salmon Heather?"

"It's cold," she said tersely, from across the table. She evidently didn't want to play along.

"Oh so it is. I guess we need a new server. Claire take these plates away and bring us the dessert."

"Excuse me?" Claire didn't look amused.

"You're going to be our waitress now," I explained, as though talking to a five year old. Claire looked imploringly to Heather, who was very carefully not returning her gaze. Claire gave an exasperated snort and grabbed the plates.

Just as she's got halfway to the kitchen, I stood up again.

"Oh Claire, you'll need this." I removed my apron walked over to her. I felt no qualms about being naked any more -- they'd both seen it before and besides, no one was laughing and mocking now. I laid the apron over an appalled Claire's arms and walked back to my seat. Heather gave my exposed penis a sideways glance and tutted in disgust. "Put that on in the kitchen," I ordered Claire. I gave her a sly grin -- she knew exactly what was coming. "Take everything else off and toss them into the living room as you do. When you come back with the dessert, I want you to be wearing just that."

"I'm not your stripper!"

"You can refuse if you want, but it's Heather who'll pay the price..." I reminded her. Claire looked to her boss once again, who just nodded miserably. Claire's face fell, and she slunk off to the kitchen.

"You disgust me, you know that don't you," said Heather once she was gone.

"I know." She could stare daggers at me all she liked, she'd made my life too miserable for me to feel any pity now.

Suddenly, Claire's black dress flew into the room from the kitchen door. She was actually doing it! It was followed by a lacy black bra. Heather and I stared at the door in anticipation. After a little pause, a pair of matching panties were thrown too.

"I swear you'll pay for this," said Heather quietly.

"You can take her place if you want," I offered. She said nothing. I didn't think so.

Claire emerged from the kitchen carrying the chocolate cake I'd seen on the side earlier. She was wearing the apron, just as I'd told her to. On me it had been slightly too small, and it barely contained Claire. She had a slim figure, but her breasts were not small, and were threatening to pop out of the very tight apron with every step she took. It would have been comical if it wasn't so incredibly hot.

She dumped the cake unceremoniously on the table without a word, and didn't look at either of us. She looked mutinous. It was amazing what a difference context could make -- last time she'd had no hesitation in being completely naked, back when she could use it to tease me and humiliate me. Now, even being so skimpily dressed was clearly deeply embarrassing for her.

"Thanks Claire!" She didn't reply. "Oh actually I think I'd like some of that whipped cream I saw in there earlier," I added innocently. Claire looked at me sullenly.

"I'll get it," said Heather.

"No. We have a waitress, she can get it."

We all knew why I wanted her to go back, but I didn't care. Turning to get it meant flashing her naked ass to us -- so firm, so juicy, better than any dessert. She was walking quickly to get to the kitchen, but that just made her ass work harder.

The can of cream was tossed onto the table with even more resentment a few seconds later. But Heather didn't seem very keen to start.

"You haven't eaten anything Heather," I reminded her. "Aren't you going to have any cake?"

"What do you think?" she replied grumpily.

"Claire's gone to a lot of effort here, you should try the chocolate, it looks delicious." My light-hearted suggestion was met with sullen silence. "Very well," I sighed.

I got lazily to my feet, and Heather gave me a wary a look. Claire on the other hand was doing her best to ignore me, which would prove to cost her some considerable dignity. Before she could work out what was happening I untied the feeble knot on her apron and yanked it over her head. A suddenly very naked Claire gave a yelp of shock and moved her hands to her crotch to cover up. Luckily she didn't try to back away, which gave me chance to reach over to the table, grab handfuls of the rich, chocolate dressing on the cake, and smear it all over Claire's naked breasts.

"Peter!" screamed Claire. She looked genuinely horrified. She tried ineffectually to wipe it off with her hands, but it was hopeless -- she was covered in chocolate. I got my first proper look at her naked body of the night. It didn't disappoint. Her long, supple legs could have been the centre of attention themselves were it not for the cute little pussy above them, a neat, brown line of hair above pink, puffy lips. Her breasts were as firm and round as I remembered them, and it almost seemed a crime to desecrate them with chocolate, but it was worth it for the look on her face. "What the fuck are you doing? Give me the apron back!"

"You still have a job to do," I told her firmly. "Go and lie on the dining table please."

"How about 'fuck you?'"

I sighed. I'd never have gotten away with language like that, in the old days...

"Please don't forget your Boss's career is on the line here Claire. And let's be honest, last time we met you tried to suffocate me so I think you're getting off lightly," I reminded her. She almost retorted with some come-back, but it died in her throat. "Now, lie on the table please."

She drifted over, like a scolded teenager, to where her boss was still sat with a helpless look about her. I noted she'd stopped trying to jump in on Claire's behalf since I raised the option of her taking Claire's place.

Claire slowly moved the cake to one side, and briefly hesitated, presumably trying to decide whether it would be more mortifying to lie with her face at Heather's end of the table and have to look at her, or to lie the other way and flaunt her naked pussy in her boss's face. She decided for the former, and awkwardly clambered onto the table. It wasn't that long, and even with all her manoeuvring she still ended up with her head right at the edge, practically in Heather's lap. They were very carefully avoiding eye contact, Heather looking stonily ahead as though her intern wasn't sprawled out naked before her. She didn't know the meaning of 'embarrassing' unless she'd been made to strip for a live webcam and then forced to listen to the comments, I thought bitterly.

"Well Heather, is that more to your liking?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your dessert, you can't refuse now surely."

"I don't..."

"The chocolate, you're going to lick it off," I told her calmly. Heather stared stonily at Claire's chocolate-covered tits, and back at me.

"No Peter..."

"Yes Heather," I sighed. I was growing tired of every command being met with resistance and protests. I quickly found my discarded jeans and pulled out my phone. "We both know it's going to happen, so you can either just do it now, or we can argue about it, you'll still end up doing it, only I'll play Claire a little video while you're doing it..."

Heather turned white. I showed her the screen of my phone -- it was a paused video, with Heather's naked body taking up most of the screen. Claire tried to get a look too, mortifying Heather even more.

"No! Fine, whatever..." Heather rose out of seat. She started to move to the side of the table, but a shake of my head stopped her. We both knew how she had to do this. Claire gave a small intake of breath and stared fixedly ahead of her at the ceiling as she realised that this was actually going to happen. Heather leaned over her, as far forward as she could until her breasts were covering Claire's face. Claire's toes were curled from sheer awkwardness.

I watched greedily as Heather gave an ineffectual lick, lapping up a tiny blob of chocolate and making Claire jump slightly at the touch. With a tortuously slow pace she worked her way through the chocolate on Claire's right breast, and only when I made it clear that she had to clean both of them did she up her pace, lapping and sucking at Claire's now glistening tits to get it over with.

And all the while, Claire stared fixedly upwards at Heather's chest hovering over her face.

"Careful Heather," I warned playfully as she leaned over even more to get the last streaks of chocolate. "You don't want to get any on that nice red dress -- I'd hate for you have to take it off..."

When it was finally all done, Heather remained where she was, passively staring at Claire's navel as though trying to pretend I wasn't there. Claire's breasts were wet with saliva, shimmering in the low light of the room, and Claire herself was still extremely tensed. It was a very bizarre sight.

Time to push things along a little further.

"Wha-!" shrieked Claire, unable to see what was happening. Even Heather hadn't seen me approach. In one casual motion I had grabbed the can of whipped cream and squirted it between Claire's legs, covering her pussy in cold, smooth cream. She went to close her legs but that only spread the cream further so in the end she had to awkwardly hold them open. Heather knew exactly what was coming next. Why couldn't she learn to stop protesting?

"Peter! That was enough!"

I sighed. I wasn't even going to argue this. I opened up the video on my phone again, moved the footage along to a point a little later on, and pressed play.

For a second I thought Heather was going to look away, but the sheer obscenity of what she was seeing apparently held her transfixed. She watched in horror at footage of her squatting over my cock naked, awkwardly trying to stuff it into her asshole. I had omitted the bit a few seconds earlier where I had ordered her to do it.

"Turn it off. Turn it off!" she screamed. Claire might not be able to see the video but she could certainly hear Heather's moans coming from the phone as the digital Heather tried to fit my cock in her ass.

"Once you've had your cream," I grinned. It only took a few seconds for her to realise it really wasn't going to be turned off.

"Heather... it's fine, you don't need to... oh!" came Claire's timid voice, before she was cut off by Heather diving forward and lapping furiously at her intern's cream drenched pussy. I couldn't tell if she was trying to go as quickly as possible to make me stop it, or if she thought she could block out the sounds from my phone by losing herself in the act, but she was really going for it. She didn't seem to care that she was lying so far over Claire that the traumatised girl was now left staring up Heather's skirt, or that Claire was now shaking, either from horror or arousal I didn't know.

But the video was getting harder and harder to ignore. I knew it by heart at this point -- Heather had just swivelled around and now her asshole was being pounded. I turned the volume up and up, and Heather's carnal groans and moans filled the room. Much, much faster than the chocolate, the cream was disappearing under Heather's rapid tongue, and soon she was lapping at the folds of Claire's gorgeous pussy, trying to get every last smear of cream.

I knew why she wanted to finish before the video did -- the clip ended with Heather loudly climaxing from her anal pounding, and that at least she didn't need Claire to find out about. Slightly to my disappointment, it seemed she was going to make it. Panting and breathless, she pulled away from Claire's crotch, no trace of the cream left.

"Now turn it off," she snarled. True to my word, I pressed pause and the sounds of Heather's animalistic grunts and moans cut out. Heather visibly relaxed. Only in the new silence were Claire's own quick, harried breaths audible. It seemed her boss's tongue had had more of an effect on her than she would like to admit. Heather suddenly realised that she was still kneeling over Claire's face, and scrambled off the table without so much as looking at either of us.

Claire's face had turned crimson in embarrassment, and her anxious glances flitted between her rigidly tense boss and her own naked body. She got to her knees on the table, following Heather's example now and not looking at anyone.

I could feel the tension in the air, almost penetrating my own glee. I doubted Claire would ever mention the video she'd just heard again, just as Heather would never forget she knew. If only she'd heard how it ended.

Just as Claire was preparing to climb down from the table, in the brief window of opportunity where she was on all fours upon it, I seized the opportunity. Can of whipped cream still in hand, it took only a second to squirt a third blast of the cream between Claire's ass cheeks.

Claire froze stiff, as it dawned on her what had just happened. Heather's cold gaze met mine. I tried to flash her a grin but even I quailed under that venomous stare. Instead I simply brought my phone back up and pressed play, and once more Heather's sordid video started playing.

Heather gave a furious snarl and hurled the nearby pepper pot at my head. I ducked in alarm, but when I looked back Heather was not advancing on me with a knife, but was burying her face in Claire's ass. She obviously didn't want to waste even a second on futile arguing so close to the end of the recording.

"H-Heather, no!" gasped Claire, her face turning even redder than before, mortified beyond reckoning -- I couldn't even imagine how uncomfortable it must feel to have your boss lick cream from your asshole. I brought the phone in front of her view. At first she looked away angrily, but she couldn't resist stealing glances at the footage of Heather loudly and graphically taking it in the ass. Soon she was entranced in a horrified sort of way.

Heather was licking out Claire's ass at a furious pace, but it wasn't fast enough. Just as she was mopping up the last of the white mess, her digital self gave a long pent-up scream of ecstasy and started humping her ass onto the dick she was riding, climaxing passionately. Claire stared on in amazement, and Heather -- the live Heather -- withdrew miserably.

A very heavy silence fell on the room, once the footage was done. Claire climbed down as quickly as she was able to and stood on the opposite side of the room, covering her breasts and pussy with her hands. Heather was standing a long way from her. Neither seemed to be even aware I was there, and none of the anger at me I was expecting was materialising.

It was Heather who broke the silence first.

"Claire..."

"It's fine," the intern replied hurriedly, without looking at her boss.

"What you saw -- that video..."

"I didn't... don't worry about it," Claire mumbled, quickly. Heather gave up, not seeming to know what to say. Claire looked over at her clothes. If she thought we were finished, I'd better step back into things.

"Well I hope you aren't hungry anymore Heather," I said cheerfully. I walked over to Heather's side, ignoring her return to an expression of fury and disgust. It was an empty threat of violence. "It certainly looked delicious."

"You had no right to show that video -- no right! We had a deal!" Heather still had flecks of cream on her cheeks, lips and, to my delight, a small white streak on her expensive red dress.

"A deal which you and Claire broke, as we've already agreed," I replied calmly. I reached out and brushed the stain on Heather's dress, making her recoil from my touch. "Oh it looks like you've made a mess of that beautiful dress! Maybe you should just toss it over with Claire's dress over there, I'm sure she can have it cleaned for you later on..."

She must have known this would happen sooner or later -- as soon as she saw me appear with those plates she probably that before long she'd be butt naked again. But even so, I was astonished at how little resistance she offered to my suggestion. A hate-filled glance, a brief pause where she tried to think of a way to fight back -- and then she was unzipping her dress.




A Voyeur Pays the Price Ch. 04 (Epilogue)



"Heather..?" gasped Claire, horrified at seeing her idol stripping on command like this. Heather turned away as she slid the dress off, whether for modesty's sake or so as to avoid the stares of Claire and I, I don't know. If it was in the name of modesty, she was fighting a losing battle. She was soon stood awkwardly in her underwear, looking anywhere but at Claire.

"What do you think Claire?" I asked the stunned intern. She was covering her own nakedness with her arms as best she could, but the thought of her boss having to do the same must have been completely disorientating for her. This was Heather after all -- she destroyed people who gave the slightest insult. I unhooked Heather's bra and let it fall away, and was met with no protest whatsoever. "She has quite the body doesn't she? Of course you've already seen it on video I guess, but nothing quite beats the real thing..."

Heather was trying not give me the pleasure of appearing distraught, and did nothing to hide her bared breasts -- small, but firm and perky, just as I remembered them. But when I yanked down her panties she couldn't help herself -- she gave a startled jump and covered her pussy with her hands.

And just like that, all three of us were naked.

Claire looked as though the bottom had just fallen out of the world. I had seen her angry, and I had seen her humiliated and embarrassed, but this was something else, something more like fear. If Heather Dean was naked, if she could be made to do that so easily -- anything could happen...

"It's okay Claire," said Heather wearily, evidently sensing her dismay. "Just let him have his fun and I swear one day we will get him. There's nothing we can do for now." If Claire was thinking that actually, there was nothing Heather could do and that she herself was just doing it for her sake, she betrayed no sign of it.

"Quite right," I said, clapping my hands. I chose to ignore the empty comment about them getting revenge. They had nothing. I couldn't stop looking from one girl to the other -- both naked, both of whom had to do whatever I said, and both of whom I owed some payback. "You know Claire, I've just realised -- you haven't gotten your boss a birthday present."

"Fuck off Peter." She didn't seem to be in the mood for games. Well if you're in such a hurry...

"She does so much for you -- gave you your fancy job, pays your salary, there was that time she let you humiliate and molest her male sex slave -- I think you owe her something really special."

"I said fuck off! Just tell me what you want me to do," she spat back sullenly. So be it.

"Heather sit down, on the floor please," I said, still smirking. "Heather gave me a distinctly uncooperative look. "Sit! Where you are. Yes that's it, very good. Now spread those gorgeous legs for us..."

I knew Claire was struggling not to look, to give her boss some modesty and show some solidarity. But just as with the video, she couldn't help herself. Her boss was exposing her vagina for all the world to see, and morbid curiosity was evidently too hard to overcome. Heather actually turned red when she saw Claire stealing a glance, and Claire hurriedly looked away.

"What I want you to do Claire, is make your boss come."

"No!" Claire squeaked. Heather didn't move, she might have been a statue at that moment. "I can't -- she's my... boss!" I chuckled at that.

"I think we passed the stage where that mattered when she was licking whipped cream out of your pussy." She still didn't budge. "Claire kneel down here and plant your lips around Heather's or I'll end her career with a phone call."

Claire looked awkwardly at Heather, who just gave her a little nod without making eye contact. She gave the slightest of groans, and dutifully got into place.

She ambled forward on her hands and knees, slowly, as though she didn't really want to get too close. Her timid hand reached forward to stroke Heather's vulva, as though it would shock her. Heather jumped at the touch.

"Use your lips Claire, not your hands. Who knows, you might even enjoy it." Claire sucked up to her boss so much that I was surprised she wasn't more eager to go the final step and actually pleasure her. As it was she had to make a real effort to make herself brush her lips against Heather's pussy. There was no looking away now -- her face head was nestled between Heather's thighs, and her eyes were inches from Heather's short, light-coloured pubic hair. She had no choice but to take in the full obscenity of her boss's nakedness.

Now more than ever I wished I could record what was going on. I had my phone, but I had technically said I wouldn't. Even so, I was sorely tempted. When would I see this again? A gorgeous, naked twenty-year-old, on all fours, licking out my equally naked sex goddess. I could feel my hard-on straining, and I knew I would have to do something about that soon before I burst.

Claire was running her tongue up and down Heather's slit, slowly and mechanistically, while Heather stared down at Claire's mop of black hair between her legs. The intern couldn't have looked less enthusiastic if she had been licking a brick wall.

And yet, seemingly it was having a considerable effect on Heather. She was suddenly breathing very heavily, and after just a few minutes she was moaning and groaning loudly. I watched on in amusement at the show. Did she think I was stupid?

"Oh God! Oh God!" she wailed at last. She made a show of shuddering, and even arched her back and grabbed Claire's distraught head as her orgasm apparently rocked her body. Claire pulled away as soon as she could, and Heather looked up at me, panting.

"It's a shame, I used to think you would make such a good porn star," I sighed.

"What are you talking about?" Heather replied breathlessly.

"Most porn stars can fake an orgasm better than that!"

"I didn't fake it," she snapped back, stony faced. "Claire made me... climax. Like you told her to."

I looked up and down her naked body. Her nipples, pink and sexy though they were, were flat, and her pussy looked untouched.

This was the perfect opportunity to step things up, but I needed to be convincing. I needed to be angry.

"Heather I've seen you come before, remember? That was not an orgasm." Heather stared at me defiantly. "You lied to me."

"No."

"Did I not make myself clear? You are to do everything I tell you to. And I told you not to stop until your pussy was gushing down Claire's cheeks." Heather blushed again at the phrase, while Claire watched on anxiously.

"What does it matter to you whether I did or didn't? You still got your perverted little show. And besides, I'd get used to women faking orgasms around you if I were you."

"Enough. I've been lenient, so far. Yes, don't give me that look! If I treated you the way you two treated me when I was completely at your mercy then you'd have spent the last six months whoring out your holes every weekend for a live internet audience. But no. I just did it once. And then when your underling broke our agreement, I gave you this chance to set things right again. Seems only fair -- you used me twice after all. But I won't let you disobey me any more than you would have let me disobey you back in the old days." Heather stared venomously at me for the whole speech, her cold, calculating eyes betraying nothing of what she was thinking. "Now, you have two choices -- we can either carry on, with the two of you actually doing what I say, or we can stop, and you can go home and make yourself look presentable for when the police call on you tomorrow."

"I could call your bluff. Do you think the police would take kindly to this pathetic little blackmail thing you have going on?"

"Oh please, we've been through this. The blackmail started in your corner Heather, back when you stripped me in your hotel room for the whole internet to watch. Now which is it to be?"

"You are a horrible little man Peter, do you know that?"

"Which one?"

"We carry on," she mumbled through gritted teeth. As though she had a choice.

"In that case, I'm going to need a penalty to be paid. One of you is going to pay for that disobedience with a special... 'task' I have in mind." This was going to be fun.

"'One of us?' Why should I do a penalty? I didn't do anything wrong!" Claire blurted out indignantly. Heather shot her an annoyed look -- guilty or no, something told me Heather would do anything to avoid stooping to new levels of humiliation.

"Do either of you volunteer?" I queried. Claire shot her boss a pleading look. I knew what she was thinking -- you pissed him off, you should be the one to do the 'penalty.' But she didn't dare say it out loud. Heather must have known this, she was looking away. "I guess not. There's only one way to settle this," I said with a grin. This had worked out perfectly.

"Here's how we'll decide. Claire you're going to have another go working at Heather's pretty little pussy, and just so you don't feel left out, I'm going to make sure you get plenty of... attention... as well. The first woman to come does the penalty."

Claire's expression revealed exactly what she thought of this game, but she didn't say anything. I wondered which thought gave her more discomfort -- having to go back to licking out her boss's vagina, or having me playing with her at the same time.

There was no nod, no signal from Heather to Claire to say 'it's okay, just do it' this time --only a fixed, determined glare at me. Heather obviously had no intention of losing this game, and Claire seemed wounded that Heather hadn't simply offered to take the penalty. Instead Claire just morosely crawled forward again, and this time planted her lips onto Heather's clitoris. She gasped -- probably a good sign.

I honestly didn't mind who won this one -- what I had in mind would be just as satisfying no matter who ended up doing it. So without any real sense of rush, I walked around behind Claire, and knelt before her. And what a view I was greeted with.

Claire was kneeling, but since Heather's pussy was at ground level her back was arched sharply. She'd tried to offset this slightly by splaying her legs, but all that served to do was expose even more. Her bare, naked pussy was lewdly displayed for me -- pink lips slightly open and just a trace of whipped cream remaining. Above it her ass cheeks parted and her tight, puckered little asshole peeked out between them. I leant in to plant a kiss on her lips, and the word 'worship' floated idly through my mind. Her pussy was sweet -- literally in this case. The sugary taste of whipped cream accompanied the sensual feminine taste of her vulva like a fine wine.

An involuntary, muffled gasp escaped Claire when my finger entered her for the first time. Her warm, pink opening seemed a lot more eager than Claire herself, intently focused on the pussy in front of her. First one finger, then two, in and out and in and out until her cunt was welcoming every exploring thrust of my fingers with a satisfying wet grip.

The sight was almost as erotic as the feel of her tight wet hole around my fingers -- Claire wasn't even trying to hide her modesty, not that she could, and the more I stared at the exposed, wrinkled eye above her slit, the more I wanted Claire to lose this little competition.

My occasional glances up indicated that it might be closer than I had thought though. Claire's finger fucking wasn't the only wet sound filling the room now. Clearly desperate not to lose, Claire was devouring her boss's pussy with a ferocity that almost matched Heather's own earlier furious attempts to lick Claire clean, against the backdrop of her video. Heather's eyes were closed but her attempts to block everything out didn't seem to be all that successful -- her cheeks were flushed and now her nipples really were rock hard.

I had to up my game clearly. I slid a third finger into Claire's hungry pussy and pushed as deep into her sex as I could. The dirty sounds of her tongue were briefly interrupted by a gasp, and as my pace increased it seemed she couldn't quite stay focused on Heather's pussy. Small moans and gasps were coming more and more often as I explored every corner of her with my fingers, and if Heather herself was looking not exactly composed, she was holding out a lot better than Claire.

Every so often she would hump and grind onto my fingers with a low groan, before catching herself and pulling back -- only to forget herself once again when she lost focus. Her hands were gripping Heather's waist tight, almost pulling the woman into her. Heather's pussy was blocked from view by the back of Claire's head but if the wet sounds coming from it were anything to go by, it was almost as much of a sodden mess as Claire's was.

I knew I had her when she stopped even trying to resist the temptation to hump my fingers with her hips. She was going to come -- hard -- and I knew exactly how I wanted it to happen. I was already kneeling behind her, already perfectly positioned, so when I withdrew my fingers her gaping pussy was empty for only a second before my cock was sliding into her.

"Oh fuck..." Claire moaned. Tight as she was, her pussy offered no resistance whatsoever and I slid in all the way in one powerful stroke. I gave a quiet grunt and stared in awe at the sight beneath me -- my dick was buried to the balls in Claire's sweet cunt.

Time to finish her. There was no steady build up, no slowly rising tempo -- as soon as I was in I gave her everything I had, smashing my cock into her wet hole as hard and as fast I could and sending ripples through her ass cheeks. I knew I wouldn't last long after everything I'd watched so far tonight, but it was pretty obvious I wouldn't need to. Every stroke elicited a wild squeal from Claire into Heather's pussy, her breasts jiggling in time to my thrusts.

"H-Heather... please..." she pleaded, every word a breathless wail. "I can't... ohh... please... please come Heather... I can't... I can't hold... oh fuck..."

Heather ignored her, and gritted her teeth against Claire's last ditch attempts to bring her boss off and escape the penalty. Claire even brought her shaking hands around and, judging from the outraged expression of shock on Heather's face, stuffed her fingers into the pussy she'd been so reluctant to touch so recently.

"Claire no!"

It wasn't enough. My hands gripped Claire's trembling waist tight, and her gasps of pleasure got louder and louder with every plunge of my rock hard cock, rising to a crescendo, until one last powerful thrust sent her over the edge. There was a second or two of silence as shudders ran through her body, until the dam burst and a long pent up wail escaped her lips. Her whole body bucked and trembled and her cunt lips tightened around me, sending me over the edge. I spurted load after load of cum into her, more than I'd ever known I could hold, and the feel of my balls unloading into her seemed to send Claire wilder still -- she humped my cock furiously, her treacherous body hungry for every last drop of cum.

Heather watched the carnal scene before her with a mixture of disgust and relief. Claire was groaning into her pussy, and her open legs still flanked Claire's writhing body, but she quietly edged backward away from an oblivious Claire. Our eyes briefly met, before she hurriedly looked away.

Claire didn't move once the last waves has subsided -- even when I pulled my dick out of her she remained in place, with her ass up in the air and her legs splayed open, panting heavily. She didn't react when Heather and I got to our feet, nor when I slipped away to grab something from the corner of the room.

Only when I put the bag down next to her head did Claire stir. She raised her head and looked at it for a second, confused.

If Heather knew what was inside it, she didn't let on. Satisfied that she had avoided a punishment, she appeared to be trying to go back into stony, composed mode. She even made a bid for dignity, covering her chest and pussy with both hands and giving me one of her familiar glares, though the sheen of sweat covering her pale, naked body, and her conspicuously wet thighs somewhat diminished this. Claire had almost won, if I was any judge.

But understanding was dawning on Claire.

"You remember this, don't you Claire?" She jolted out of her reverie and got to her feet. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Claire..?" asked Heather softly. She was ignored, Claire was staring down in horror at the bag she'd taken such care to make sure I saw earlier. To answer the question I slid the thing across the floor with my foot. Since picking it up would mean moving her arms and flashing me, she just peered down into it -- it seemed Heather was keen to give me the absolute minimum now that she'd 'won' the game. Her face darkened when she saw the various toys inside.

"Oh Claire, how could you be so..." she moaned, trailing off before she could utter the unspoken word 'stupid.'

"You should have told me! If I knew how badly you'd fucked up I wouldn't have brought him here! I don't see why I should have to carry on with this sordid little show when it's you who stole. You can pay the damn penalty." She meant it too. She stormed over to her clothes and scooped up her panties, apparently happy now to abandon Heather to her fate. Everyone in the room knew what the 'penalty' was going to be.

"Claire, please -- do you think this is easy for me? Just play along for a little longer, I need you to come through for me here..." Heather looked genuinely fearful. I knew it must have balked to be shouted at by an employee, however close, but she hid it well. She was right, she needed Claire. But Claire was unmoved.

"I did play along," she spat. To my great annoyance she pulled her panties back on, and started looking for her bra. "I humiliated myself for the sake of your career, and your mistake, and you still left me out to dry when it came down to it. You could have taken the penalty but you didn't. Well forget it -- I want you both out of here. If you still want to convince the little prick not to report you, you can... you can...whore yourself out in the hallway!"

"Whore myself?!" Heather repeated incredulously. Even Claire looked a little shocked at her own outburst. She had found her bra now though -- I had to intervene.

"Claire, you know you will wreck Heather's life if you stop now," I reminded her lazily.

"She was happy to sell me out, so I'm afraid I don't care Peter. Get the fuck out of my apartment."

"You'll also wreck yours," I added. Claire paused, uncertain.

"I haven't done anything. You can't blackmail me."

"Oh yes you have. You knew all about Heather's scam. You helped her in fact, and you took a share of the stolen money."

"No I didn't!"

I shrugged. "No, but that's what I'll tell them." Claire looked outraged at such an obvious attempt at blackmail.

"Who would believe that? Forget it Peter. Maybe Heather crumbled under your threats but you have nothing on me."

"Oh but Heather would back me up," I replied, as calmly as I could. Claire blinked, and as one we turned to look at Heather. She'd been watching the exchange anxiously, still preserving her modesty as best she could with her arms. I had never seen her look so distraught.

"Of course she wouldn't," said Claire, after too long a pause. "Heather? Tell him you wouldn't." Still Heather said nothing. She just looked at Claire, anguish written across all her features, her eyes silently pleading for understanding. She shook her head slowly.

Claire gave a silent gasp, as comprehension of the betrayal broke over her. She threw the bra to the ground and stormed over to the couch.




A Voyeur Pays the Price



"Turn it off," I muttered breathlessly. I made to back away from the glare of the webcam, as more comment beeps came in. Heather looked up from her laptop angrily. Clearly I wasn't going to be going anywhere. An awkward silence descended on the room, which she allowed to go on for fully ten excruciating seconds before ending it with what was almost a smile...

"Strip." It was a simple command, but it didn't really sink in when she said it.

"What?"

"I said -- take off your clothes," she snarled. The full weight of her demand, and of what my penalty was, hit me.

"M-my clothes? No... I-I can't-" I stammered. Heather angrily grabbed her phone from the table behind her.

"This is your first warning. If you ever say no to me again when I ask you to do something, I will call the police. Now stand in front of the camera, and remove your clothes."

She was serious. I was cornered -- no way out. Do as she said, or be arrested. After glancing helplessly between the camera and the angry blonde beside it, I gave in. I trembled as I pulled my shirt over my head in the glare of the webcam.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Comment after comment poured in as Heather read them and smirked. I didn't want to imagine what they were saying. I could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on me, as I was left standing in my underwear in the middle of Heather's suite, shivering. She stared at me as I stood there, trying not to look at her.

"Keep going." I groaned inwardly.

"Please. Please -- Miss Dean, is it? I -- no wait," she made a point of dialling numbers into her phone. I grabbed the hem of my underwear and pulled down. The comments surged in again as my dick was exposed to the camera. I stepped out of them miserably. I was highly conscious of the way the slightest movement made my balls dangle and sway for my audience.

"Hmmm. You don't seem to be impressing my followers much," Heather said dryly. I turned red. I didn't exactly have the most impressive physique -- I'd never been in a gym in my life. And even though at six inches I'd never exactly thought of myself as under-endowed shall we say, facing my virtual audience suddenly made feel very... small. "'Call that a man?'" Heather read out, "'no wonder he has to get his kicks spying on women -- bet he's a virgin.'"

I couldn't look at her any more, just stood staring at the floor, totally ashamed and completely naked. This was utter humiliation

"You surprise me Peter," said Heather, resting against her armchair. "You have no problem spying on naked women, but can't take it when you're on the receiving end?" I said nothing, just longed for the lesson to be over.

"Stand closer to the camera -- you won't be hiding anything."

Apparently not satisfied in humiliating me with mere full-frontal nudity to her army of followers, she made me adopt what she called 'poses.' I was made to rest one foot up on the table, to grab my balls and lift them up, exposing my scrotum, to turn around so that my ass was inches from the camera. With each pose I felt my will to resist break a little more. I just limply did as I was told.

"Now, bend forward and reach for your toes," she commanded, now sat down and sipping on her glass of wine again with an air of indifference. With my buttocks still inches from the camera, I obeyed, turning red at the thought of the view I must be offering to the camera. I tried to ignore the stream of beeps flooding in that my exposed anus had prompted. I made to stand back up but she stopped me.

"I did not tell you to stop your pose did I?" I stared silently at the ground, trying to pretend I was somewhere else. She must have taken her shoes off, because I didn't hear her approach, or know she was beside me until I felt her knee make contact with my stomach.

I hit the ground. It wasn't exactly a hard hit, but I'd been in an awkward position and it was well placed. I tried to hide my dick with my hands at least, though I was probably out of shot anyway.

"So how does it feel?" she asked. I looked up at her from the ground. She wasn't smiling, but there was a look of slight satisfaction on her face.

"I'm sorry," I said weakly. I just wanted to get across that my lesson was learned, and get out of there and pretend it had never happened. She grabbed my wrist.

"Get up." She pulled me roughly to my feet and pushed me toward the table. I put up no resistance. "What are you sorry for?"

"For watching you through your window," I mumbled, falling painfully against the wooden table. I couldn't help but glance at the webcam every few seconds -- I just couldn't block it out, knowing that everyone could see my humiliation. I sat, cross-legged.

"And what did you watch?"

"Y-you."

"Me what?"

"I watched you naked." It was painful just saying it, like I was reminding her of everything.

"And what did you see today?" I looked up at her. Don't make me say it, I thought desperately. "Well?"

"I saw you holding a... sex toy." The last two words were barely audible.

"Did that excite you? Did that arouse your pathetic male mind?" When it became clear that this wasn't a rhetorical question either, I nodded. "Why? What did you want to see?"

"I wanted to see you use it," I mumbled dejectedly.

"Be specific."

"I wanted to watch you m-masturbate with it." Beep. Beep. Beep. The audience didn't sound happy.

"And?" This was unbearable. What could I say? 'I wanted to watch you come?' Luckily, Heather answered for me.

"Men get off on watching a woman orgasm," she said matter-of-factly to the camera. "It makes them feel powerful to watch her writhe and twitch helplessly. It's all a power play. Wouldn't you agree?" She turned to me at that last question.

"Erm... no..?" I wasn't sure what the right answer was here.

"You don't think being made to orgasm for someone else is a sign of submission then? You don't think it's a humiliation?" Her temper was rising again, and I had no idea how to head it off. "Well, we'll see if you agree once you've had to do it. Lie back on the table." I backed away and did as she asked, lying on the uncomfortable, wooden table. The polished wood was cold against my bare back. Heather moved the chair with the webcam on it so that the camera was angled down between my legs. "Now, masturbate for us. Like an animal."

"W-what?"

"Are you refusing?" she asked, picking up her phone again.

"No! I j-just... I can't..." As much as this woman may have aroused me in the past month, this situation definitely did not. This was not going to be a command I was able to do.

Heather seemed to realise this. Staring coldly down at me, she quietly stepped back out of view of the camera, took off her suit jacket, and unbuttoned the top half of her blouse. Unbeknownst to my audience, I was now staring at Heather's cleavage, firmly kept in place by her black bra.

It shouldn't have been enough. It was pathetic that it was. But as soon as I saw it, images of her naked flashed before me again, and I felt an immediate rise down below. Within seconds I was hard. Heather quickly buttoned up, and stared defiantly at me, hating me for making her have to expose herself again. I knew I would pay for making her do that.

I gritted my teeth and started to play with myself, gripping my cock and trying not to think about the camera staring lewdly between my legs. As a guy who couldn't even use a urinal if there was anyone else around, this was humiliation on a whole other level.

I closed my eyes and tried to be somewhere else, while pumping up and down on my hard cock. The sooner I got this other with, the sooner I gave Heather her final humiliation, I could leave. I picked up the pace, jerking myself off furiously.

I knew this was what she wanted, for our audience to see me as some kind of horny animal, but what could I do? In my mind's eye I saw once again the nude Heather -- not the vicious domineering Heather I now knew her to be, but the Heather of my fantasies, whose stunning ass and pink nipples I had tossed myself off to countless times in the past month. I felt the pressure build.

"Unghhh!" I grunted, as I spurted onto my chest. There were a few blissful seconds where everything blocked out and I was alone in my ecstasy, but when it was over, I was left covered in my own cum, being watched with a look of revulsion and disgust by Heather.

I lay there in silence for a moment, breathing hard. The comments were still coming in but I barely even registered them anymore. Eventually Heather broke the silence.

"Pathetic. You couldn't even last five minutes." I stared over at her in disbelief. "It seems you haven't quite learned your lesson. Even after I have tried to make you experience the humiliation you subjected me to, apparently all I've done is aroused you. You are disgusting."

"What? No! I just-"

"Shut up." Another a simple command, spoken quietly but filled with venom. For the first time she looked genuinely angry. "Lift up your legs."

"No." This was too much. She had humiliated and broken me for the whole internet to see, but no more -- I had to draw a line. "Y-you have to let me go."

"Have to? Is there something about your situation which confuses you? I will destroy you if you say no to me again!" We stared at each for a few seconds. "What's your name?"

"P... Paul. Paul Johnson," I made up, a little too slowly. It only just hit me that after all this she still didn't even know my name. I guess she thought she didn't need to.

"Oh really?" She grabbed my discarded jeans and pulled out my wallet. Great. "According to this your name is Peter. Is that right?"

"...Yes."

"So you lied to me?" I didn't answer. I flinched as she strode over to my head and grabbed me by the cheeks, forcing me to look up at her. "Here's the deal Peter. You do exactly as I say, or I say your full name out loud so that my followers can find you on Facebook, find your friends list, and send a link to this live feed to everyone you know."

The full horror of her words hit me immediately. The thought of complete strangers seeing me degraded and naked was one thing, but people I knew? Friends? Family?

"No," I whispered, without meaning to.

"Lift up your legs," she repeated. There was no choice. I was hers now. I lifted both legs dutifully into the air while Heather pulled something out of her bag. When my feet were suspended in the air above me, she grabbed my right ankle and pulled it all the way back over my head, brought up my unresisting right arm and bound my ankle to my wrist using the duct tape she had just produced. Then she did the same to my left leg.

It was hard to imagine a more humiliating position to be in. I was still on my back, but my arms and legs were both held in the air, fastened to each other over my head. It meant that my legs were forced wide apart, leaving no trace of modesty whatsoever. No matter how I struggled to reposition myself, my cheeks were being pulled wide apart by my position, clearly exposing my asshole to the webcam. I tried not to think about it.

Unfortunately Heather had other ideas. She grabbed a stool and placed it next my head, before grabbing her laptop and placing it on it, where I couldn't ignore it.

"I thought you my like to see what our audience is seeing," she said coolly. Sure enough the screen contained the video feed from the webcam, zoomed into me. It was surreal seeing myself from that position -- naked, panicked, on my back with legs forcibly splayed wide open. I looked truly pathetic. Heather pressed something on the webcam, and it zoomed in -- filling the screen with my balls, scrotum and asshole. I tried squirming but it seemed to just draw attention to the obscenity of the whole thing -- the way my balls moved around, the way my asshole twitched.

"Please," I begged. All I could think of was someone I knew seeing this. It would destroy me. "Don't... Turn it off."

"No."

"What do you want from me?!" Frustration was building up now.

"I want to be satisfied that you fully understand what it feels like to be degraded like I was. I want you to suffer, like countless thousands of women have suffered under the sexual lusts of men." I didn't know what to say to that. Heather made a noise of derision and walked off out of sight, somewhere behind my head. "Keep looking at the screen Peter."

I tried doing as she asked, but I couldn't force myself to keep looking at the image of my own obscenely displayed asshole. How many people were seeing this, I wondered dejectedly.

When Heather returned though, I was treated to a sight far worse than anything on the screen. She was holding a dildo. Not the same one she had taunted me with earlier on -- it was a little thinner, a little longer, and jet black -- but unmistakably a dildo. Maybe eight inches long. She was casually covering it with some sort of baby oil. Somehow I doubted that it was for her.

"I ordered this just for you Peter, I know how much you like them."

"Hey -- n-no, what is that?" She didn't acknowledge me. "W-wait, what are you doing?" She threw the bottle of oil away and strolled around to the end of the table. My increasingly dread-filled protests went completely ignored as she brought the thing to my totally bared anus. "Stop. Stop! Don't!"

I visibly jumped as I felt its rubbery touch against me. Apparently oblivious to my thrashing, she pushed it into my ass. The sensation was unlike anything I had experienced before as the invader stretched open my anal ring. Resistance was impossible -- my restraints meant that my legs and ass cheeks couldn't have been spread more widely if I had wanted this inside me. I clenched my teeth and tried to relax as my anus suddenly gave way and the dildo plunged inside me.

"Arrrghhh!" I groaned, which at least blocked out now the constant stream of beeps coming in. Heather calmly continued to force her toy into my asshole until fully three quarters of the dildo had slid inside me, stretching me wide open.

"How does that feel Peter?" she asked chirpily, as though she were helping me try on a new pair of shoes.

"Fuck you!" I shouted without thinking. I didn't look at her. I was staring at the laptop screen, at the image of the dido sticking lewdly out of my gaping asshole, stretching it open for all the world to see. I knew she would make me pay for that but while my anger lasted I might as well make the most of it. "I never did this to you! All I did was watch you naked for a few seconds! I never tied you up naked! I never made you strip for a bunch of strangers! I never rammed a dildo in your ass!"

I cut my rant short when I glanced over at her. Something had changed -- she was shaking with rage now, and her red face betrayed a loss of composure that she hadn't shown before. I had gone too far.

"You want to violate 'my ass?'" she spat.

"N-no. I didn't mean..."

"You want to violate my ass?" She was stood by my head now, opposite the laptop. An eerie, indescribable change had come over her. She was ignoring the webcam fully for the first time, her attention solely fixed on the object of her hatred before her. I could see a moment's indecision flicker in her cold blue eyes, before seeming to come to a decision. She grabbed my discarded shirt and threw it over the webcam, obscuring its view. Then, glaring at me intensely, she reached under her skirt and, to my utter confusion and disbelief, pulled down her black lace panties and threw them aside. "Then be my guest Peter."

Before I knew what was happening, she brought her leg over my head, almost knocking the stool over, and lifted her skirt, before lowering onto my face.

I was transfixed, staring in disbelief at the sight of Heather's pussy lowering onto me. I barely had time to take in the view -- the light coloured pubic hair, the gorgeous pink lips -- before my view was blocked entirely as she smothered my face.  

All my senses were overwhelmed. The scent of her most intimate area was intoxicating, and my view was filled with those same tight buttocks I had watched from a distance for so long. Her powerful, bare thighs pushed against my cheeks. I almost lost myself in it and forgot about my desperate situation.

Heather quickly readjusted herself though. She shifted back so that her ass cheeks covered my face, then brought her hands around to spread her cheeks open. Before I could catch a breath, she smothered me completely.

"Lick it," she said, though what sounded like gritted teeth. I tried to struggle free, to get some air, but she was grinding her weight against me now, burying my face between her ass cheeks and pressing my head painfully against the table. "Lick it!"

I couldn't muster a single coherent thought. Desperate to be free, I explored the contours of her buttocks until I found the rough bud of her asshole, and began dutifully lapping at it with my tongue. A rush of exhilaration at the feel of her tight anal opening against my tongue surged through me, briefly overwhelming my feelings of dejection and humiliation. When this still didn't secure my release, I drove my tongue as forcefully as I could into her demanding asshole. It was far too tight to penetrate very deeply.

This seemed only to encourage Heather. She ground into me harder and harder, dragging her asshole and pussy over and over my face, until I began to go dizzy from lack of air.

"Ahh!" Heather had been thrown forward. Out of reflex I had jerked my head forward before I passed out, dismounting her. She tried to avoid her face falling into contact with my dick, and lost her balance in the process, falling to the floor. I ignored her, and gasped for breath.

"You -- you arrogant piece of filth!" She was on her feet again. Her hair was slightly dishevelled, and she was shaking. I stared at her, unable to speak while I tried to get my breath. She stormed over to her bag, knocking my shirt off the chair-mounted webcam, and emptied it onto my bare chest. It was another dildo, mounted onto some sort of strap.

Hands still shaking, she forced the base of the dildo over my mouth, so that it was pointing upward, and strapped it in place around my head.

She either hadn't noticed that the webcam was once again transmitting the whole scene to her followers, or she no longer cared about anything but humiliating me further. She pulled down her skirt with such ferocity that I didn't even dare to look at her now very naked vagina, and climbed onto the table with her back to me and her knees either side of my head. The dildo protruding from my face was pointing directly between her legs -- I stared up in genuine disbelief at the exposed pink vulva of my tormenter displayed so obscenely above me, as she lowered onto my face again. She slowed as the dildo reached the entrance to her slit, and sank back onto it.

She seemed almost to forget that I, or the camera for that matter, was even there. With the skirt gone, I was offered the full view of those gorgeous taut buttocks. As she slowly raised herself up, her pussy opened up right in front of me before she sank back down. Oblivious in her rage, she began riding my face faster and faster.

I became almost hypnotised by the motion of her ass as she raped my face -- as her pace quickened she stopped thrusting up and down and started frantically humping instead. She soon began to sweat -- her ass glistened and her shirt clung transparently to her body as I looked up. She was practically naked.

She was breathing heavily now, her breaths escaping as small gasps and moans. She suddenly gave a frustrated yelp, and leant forward over my torso.

"You thought you... could spy... on me?" she said, between breaths. I felt her grab the dildo still half-buried in my ass. I was barely even listening to her. Now that she was leant forwards her cheeks were spread apart, her most private of areas was bared before me as I watched the puckered bud of her naked asshole rise and fall with every frenzied thrust of her hips. "You thought you could violate... and rape me... with your eyes?"




A Voyeur Pays the Price



I don't think she realised the irony of reminding me of this whilst fucking my face half-naked, or if she was just getting off on the situation too much to care. She began roughly thrusting the dildo in and out my asshole, fucking my ass faster and faster as she fucked herself on my face faster and faster. The strain in my ass was immense as she furiously pumped the invader into my painfully stretched ring harder and harder, in time with the increasingly wild thrusts of her hips over my face. Her pussy was soaking now -- the room was filled with the sounds of her sopping wet cunt slapping against the base of the mounted dildo. I could ignore the pain in my ass -- there was too much else to take in -- Heather's breath on my rock hard dick, the warmth of her body lying over mine, the pure, animalistic obscenity of the sight right in front of my eyes -- Heather's ass, drenched in sweat and pale skin flushed red with exertion, driving her soaking pussy onto me over and over again.

With every thrust she was gasping louder and driving harder. Her gorgeously wet pussy betrayed the lust that had overcome her, as her juices began to trickle down my cheek. I knew this couldn't last much longer.

"Oh! Oh!" she shouted, a sound unlike anything I had heard from her yet, almost vulnerable. Her ass trembled as the force of her orgasm wracked her body. She furiously humped the dildo as her juices gushed from her aching pussy. Her body trembled over mine and her shaking hands fell from the dildo between my cheeks.

Then, silence, but for her panting breath.

Only for a few, blissful moments did she remain, limp and powerless over my own naked body. She slowly slid off the mounted dildo, leaving a thick sheen of her cum on it. As she shifted forward, a thin strand of her juices momentarily connected the tip to her still gaping pink pussy.

Heather didn't say a word as she got to her feet, but she was breathing heavily. As my view of the rest of the room was returned to me, so did the full weight of the situation -- the almost constant beeping of the comments, my humiliating position with a dildo violating deep into my ass, and Heather herself. Somehow I doubted losing control like that would have lessened her temper.

She walked over to the webcam without looking at me, aware all of a sudden that it was still recording everything, and turned it off. I gave an involuntary sigh of relief. She turned to stare at me.

Her face was red, and her sleek blonde hair dishevelled and wild. Her white shirt was stuck to her body with sweat, and her black bra was plainly visible underneath it. She was still naked from the waist down -- her long, pale legs were flushed red, and the delicate smattering of pubic hair adorning her wet lips was exposed again. We just stared at each other, and I knew she had never hated me as much as she did right at that moment. My humiliation and lust gave way to fear.

She strode over to me, grabbed the skirt she had discarded earlier, and yanked the tape from my right ankle and wrist.

"Get dressed" she said curtly, before disappearing into another room. I didn't even watch her go. I fumbled between my legs and delicately pulled out the dildo that had been roughly lodged there for half an hour, and tore off the one strapped to my head. It was very wet to the touch, and sticky. I awkwardly grasped at my other wrist and pulled the tape from that. Finally unrestrained, I got deliriously to my feet and threw my clothes on. I didn't even care that my chest still had my own cum smeared over it -- this was one command I was only too eager to obey.

I had just finished when she re-emerged, clothed again and a little more composed. I automatically retreated to the door but she was faster. I backed into the wall and she advanced on me, until she was pressed against me. Whatever light perfume she had just put on couldn't quite mask the scent of her sweat. She grabbed me by the jaw, and I stared into her cold, blue eyes. Something about those direct eye contact moments made me feel like I was two foot tall.

"You can go," she said quietly. "But know this. You're mine now. You are mine to destroy whenever I please. I'll be in touch -- if I ever have to wait for more than one hour for a reply, if I think you ever disrespect me, or another woman, if you even step one foot out of line -- well, I'm sure you'll read the blog when you get home. Lots of people have copies of that humiliating little display you just did, all they need is your full name. And if you really piss me off, I'm sure a little call to the police will be in order."

I had no reply to this. Visibly shaking, as I suspected she was enjoying, I just nodded.

"Now get out." Without looking back, I bolted for the door and slammed it behind me. There was nothing I could do, no way out of this horrific mess -- Heather Dean was right. I was hers now.