Showing posts with label obsession. Show all posts
Showing posts with label obsession. Show all posts

Monday, December 19, 2022

No time to waste

"You have one hour." I said into the phone.

"One?" She was eager but distracted.

"One."

"Why so short?"

"If you want privacy, and sun, and me, you have one hour."

"Are you available?"

"As agreed," As if I would lie about something like this.

"I have the kids."

"Then it doesn't work," I was a bit annoyed, "does it?"

"I guess not."

I hung up and got dressed, put the equipment away, and made breakfast.


I saw her at church a couple of days later. She and my wife laughed and talked and arranged dinner for our little group and I planned to go shooting with her husband and his new associate who hinted at bringing me in on a another, somewhat dubious, business deal, but that was his modus operandi.  Everything was a bit dubious until we sat down, crunched the numbers, and reviewed the legality of what was on the table.  We rejected 90% of the deals that came our way.  The 10% we did support went well enough that a trip to Europe was in the budget for next year, or maybe Thailand.  All 8 of us would go.


"You have 57 minutes."

"57?" she sounded confused.

"Winter solstice is coming."

"Right"

"Conditions are good today." I hung up 

The doorbell rang.  I unlocked the door and walked back into my home office and locked the door behind me.  My front door opened and shut, then my patio door did the same.

I turned on cameras 1, 2, and 7 and checked the batteries on the two drones,

She came into focus on camera 1 first.  Camera 2 picked up the view from the east so was a little overblown by the bright morning sun so I adjusted the angle the best I could an texted her to move closer to the fence, away from the koi pond.  She did as instructed.

"Are we secure?" she texted back.

"Yes."  

She laid out a dark green blanket and arranged her accessories around the outside edge.  In one corner she placed a small placard with her OnlyFans account and a QR code.  I zoomed in on the code, paused for as long as I thought was needed for horny viewers at home, then zoomed back out again.  By the time I zoomed out, she was in her bikini, sunglasses, and floppy hat. 

She gave me a thumbs up and I hit record, broadcast, and livestream all at the same time.  She was on, the sun was out, and within 3 minutes, her followers were on board.

You couldn't see her face, you didn't need to.  Her microphone picked up every syllable of her rich and sexy voice, and you'd never guess that it was the same voice that led our youth ministry choir each Sunday and urged you to vote Republican on Monday.

Not that politics matter with a body like hers.  Two kids in and still a ballerina at heart and a beast at the gym.

Each message got bolder, each watcher more eager.  Soon the money chimes started.  Spread my legs? Cha-ching, Roll over?  Cha-ching, Rub oil on her feet. strangely, Cha Cha Cha Ching, but never my thing.  Oh well.  The coins and tips started adding.  

Pull her bikini bottom up for a camel toe?  5x coinage
Pull her top down for a nipple 10x
Untie her top - the chimes made it sound like a pinball machine.

I put up the notice that she was going to her VIP room in 5 min, top 20 tippers only.  
Holy Fuck, she was going to be very happy. 
She didn't see the money side, she read the requests, fulfilled the wishes that turned her on, and never heard a single money ping.

I heard everything. Saw everything.

"Ready for VIP?"  

"Do I have to?"  

"No, but we'll have to process some refunds to keep people happy."

"Any sign of you-know-who?"

"Not under any names we've identified."

"Are you watching IP addresses? all that Dark Web Shit?"

"Yes"

"You know what to do if he shows up?"

"Yes"

The sun was shifting.  She had 23 minutes before it got dark, shady, and cold. A slight breeze curled the corner of her blanket and I saw the Cyprus tree outside my window begin to flutter its leaves in the wind.

A tipping war flared in the last 90 seconds before her VIP feed started as desperate, but well-funded watchers tried to secure their place on the top 20 tippers list. Suspiciously, a 1,000 coin tip, or $250, came in at the last second and grabbed the 10th spot.

I put a "Watch" tag on the suspicious ID and opened the VIP room.  Her hat came off, the outside lights warmed up, and the drones launched.  They were small, nearly silent, and gave me a tool to get shots without interfering with her pleasure.

This was my favorite part.  All the requests came to my screen, then I whispered them in her ear.

Sit up tall
Touch your nipple through your bikini
Spread your legs
Wider, Please

What the users didn't know, and didn't need to know, is that she didn't read a word of it.
She trusted my voice and obeyed my commands and got more popular by the day.

She was beautiful, that's not uncommon, OF is full of beautiful women, but only a few of them knew their limits, and stuck to them.

Each request cost more coins, each watcher paid with unlimited credit cards and a bit of their self-worth with every request.  She knew what they were doing in the darkened bedrooms, the locked basements, and the occasional office (as long as it didn't have glass walls).  I only discussed this with her once when we set up our arrangement.  

I was blunt, I could not allow her to go into it with any romantic notions.

"OnlyFans," I said as we sat in a park not far from our homes, "is on-line prostitution.  Men, and sometimes women, will pay you for sexual acts.  It's that simple.  The more they pay, the more they expect you to do.  The more you are willing to do, the more they will pay."

"Who can see it?"

"Anybody with a credit card number."

"Can we block my kids?"

"Only if they are in your home, with your security, and as long as they don't have any friends with computers.  We'll setup an alias, anonymous links and emails, and the bank accounts will run through offshore accounts set up by my cousin."
 
"Can you manage the cameras, the computers?"

"Yes, I'll take a 10% cut after OF fees, equipment costs, and an high-speed Internet connection"

"Only 10%?  Where can I film?"

"I have a spare bedroom and a private backyard, and believe me, 10% is plenty."

"Can I trust you?"

"Yes.  But, I'll be clear, after we discuss your limits and preferences, I will watch you every second of every session. I will whisper instructions in your ear, I will tell you when, where, and how to cum.  I will control, watch, and record every orgasm, every toy, and every touch.  I will screen your watchers; I will shield you from the worst and give you only the best.  We will both be rich, and every second of content will be yours."

She looked around the park and blushed, hoping that none of the other moms heard me, but kind of wishing they had.

She extended her hand.  "When can we start?"  

"I'll be ready next Friday.  I have most of the equipment on order for a weekend delivery."

"Pretty confident that I was going to go through with it?"

"I had my doubts, but the way you smiled at me during coffee hour after church told me to hit the order button.

Since that day, we have built her audience, her fan base, her small and growing fortune, but have never once spoken of it outside the digital walls of our burner phones.  The only give-away is a smile at church, or when we pick up our kids from dance class, or occasionally see each other at the mall.

I looked at the clock.  She had 10 min. left.  I announced the Super VIP room would open to the biggest tipper.  10 pings rang, almost in in unison and 9 ID vanished from the screen.  They had shot their wad financially and sexually and knew they couldn't compete, so they logged out with the typical SIMP messages about her beauty, about her body parts, but rarely anything about her personality, her wicked sarcastic sense of humor, or her delicious fudge brownie recipe.  They didn't know her, they just wanted her.  And I deleted it all.

After 10 IDs tossed in their last bid, the 11th outbid them all by $500 and shut them all down.

My IP search finally popped up.  It had taken a while to get through the user's multiple VPNs and anonymizers, but now I could see he was local, and in an expensive zip code.

"There's only one left.  He's local, rich, and it's probably him."

"OK." she said, surprisingly calm, "Let's see if we can play a game."

End Part 1