“Practice. As in actually kissing and stuff? Being together?” My eyes go wide in shock. Knowing I signed up to be with her, but the reality of actually doing it hadn’t meshed together in my mind until this point.
“Are you free tomorrow? We can meet here. My place. Yours. Whichever is easiest for you.”
All I can do is nod. “Uh huh. Tomorrow sounds good.”
Holy shit, this has gotten real.
Chapter 10
HotHands69
Iwantedtokillthatfucker.
InkedAlpha.
He’s probably some pimply faced, spoiled brat of a no-good rich asshole. How dare he call my sweet Bliss a bitch. She’s a queen. A goddess. And one day she’s going to be mine, away from all these hormone-ridden people hiding anonymously behind screen names.
Bliss isn’t like the other cam girls.
She doesn’t just undress. She puts on a show, turningwhat most consider lewdness into an art. Every graceful movement she makes, every breath she exhales, is deliberate and holy. Even when she laughs, there’s a softness to it—a vulnerability I know she only lets out when she forgets the world is watching. When she forgets that we’re there, taking in everything she does, salivating over it.
I know her schedule, waiting eagerly for the notification that she’s gone live. But that’s not all. I make sure that I have my camcorder ready, recording not only her live but me stroking mycock as I watch her. My very own little porno for when she’s not available.
I know things about her. Important things that not many would catch on to.
Like how she hesitates before reading certain messages, even when she smiles. How her eyes darken when someone crosses the line and her voice hitches slightly. Bliss is a pro, though; she never lets it show. I can read her better than anyone in that chat ever could. They see a body. I see the woman inside it, trembling beneath the weight of the performance.
Even from the beginning, I’ve been keeping notes. Every little detail is important to me—from the songs playing in the background to the type of underwear she wears. I know it all. It’s taken time, but I’m patient.
At first, it was more like an appreciation of her. One could even call it devotion. But devotion is just obsession dressed in nicer clothes; and I am fully obsessed with Bliss.
With each live, from the first one until now, I see no others. It’s just her and me. As if she is speaking just for my ears.
I never saw them; the faces behind the names popping up on the screen. Not until they pissed me off.
I can be what they can’t. Unlike them, I can protect her.
I want toshieldher—from the messages, the degradation, the aching demands of the screen. All I’ve wanted to do from the beginning is take her away from it all. I know it’s what she craves. I can see it in her eyes.
When I read how they talk to her, about her—those strangers with usernames like diseases—I don’t feel anger. I feel murderous rage. My vision gets masked in a shade of red. It’s not the version of me that I want her to see. Not my precious Bliss.
Those fucking viewers don’t deserve her. But I do.
I am the only one who sees the pain she tries to hide. The only one who can give her what she truly needs. Love her the way she should be loved.
When I first found my Bliss, I reminded myself that I had limits. A clear line I couldn’t cross. I have carefully placed rules for a reason. Ones that are clear and precise. But slowly I’ve been breaking them. For her.
It’s all for her.
The rules were simple. Never comment in the chat. Never try to find out her real name. Never send a direct message. That last one is the only line I haven't crossed yet, but I have come close. And I fear it’ll only be a matter of time before I do.
In her first live, her tiny little slip up sent me on a path off my routine. And once I started digging, I couldn’t stop. It became an obsession. She became an obsession.
It was almost too easy. Discovering Bliss. I knew where she went to school. Patience was my virtue, and it paid off when I was in the right place at the right time. I heard her voice before I saw her face, and it was even more beautiful without the mask. I could really see her without a barrier in the way. Her smile, the tiny freckles barely detectable across the bridge of her nose.
Bliss is a vision. And she’s going to be mine.
She was so unaware of her surroundings that she didn’t even know I was watching her. To her, I was just another face in the crowd, and I meant to keep it that way.
