If I ruined my shot at getting free of him by using the attraction he has to me by throwing my fit this morning, I'm fucked.
Sure, Allison is looking for me, he said as much, but I need a backup plan.
For all I know, he's in his stalker room, watching, plotting how to kill me.
The anxiety of how badly I fucked up settles as I switch gears.
I've got to get him back on my side.
Even if deep down he knows it's bullshit, I need him to question his feelings, question my motives.
I need to create enough reasonable doubt that he keeps me alive.
A thought pops into my head about the rules and the stipulations for breaking one of them.
A red blinking light in the corner tells me the camera in here’s hot, and I decide it’s about time I get past being stalked and put on a show.
19
Greer
The covers shoved down, I don't have to slide out of any of my clothes because of the rules.
I have to sleep naked.
My hands shake as I tease them over my breasts, knowing he's watching.
Is he leaning into his monitors to get a better look right now?
Even if this is all pretend, all to stay alive, the thought of him consumed by me has wetness pooling between my thighs.
My heart thuds in time with the throb at my center, and my nerves are melting away the more I touch myself.
I shove thoughts of him killing and everything that happened this morning away, sliding my hands over my belly, angling my body towards the camera in the corner of the room, which puts me across the bed awkwardly.
Nothing about this feels foreign. I've touched myself a million times before, but I've never touched myself knowing someone was watching.
If I have to be honest, I've often wondered if my stalker could see me, and it's what kept the blanket over me as I played with myself.
Now, I'm liberated.
Exposed for him.
My fingers spread my flesh and curl into the space where I need them most, filling some of the ache there but not all of it.
"Oh!" I breathe, forgetting all about the blinking light and the man watching me through the lens. "Fuck, that feels good."
Adding another finger, I buck on my hand, adding more friction.
It's been years since I've used my hand to get off. In this day and age, a girl has many options that are far less... invasive.
My favorite toy is pink, shaped like a microphone, and gets me off in under five minutes flat. That's all you need as a busy woman nowadays: a good orgasm, followed by a whole night's sleep.
Before long, I'm riding my hand, spewing words like 'Don't stop' and 'Harder', even though I'm speaking to myself.
When I come, it's going to be violent, and if it's not, I'm going to be pissed.
I put in all this effort.
