Chapter 6
Caleb
There are many ways to be depraved.
Some people lack moral boundaries.
Some find pleasure in cruelty and pain.
And some, like my good little slut, Scarletta, twist desire into something dark and consuming.
She and I have that in common.
I'm in bed. Naked on top of the covers. Cock in hand.
The laptop sits on the nightstand, screen angled so I can see it clearly. Three feeds on the display. Top left: her apartment, wide shot from the camera hidden in her smoke detector. Top right: close-up from the webcam I activated six months ago. Bottom: keystroke logger, every letter she types appearing in real-time.
She's been filling out the questionnaire for nine minutes.
I've been hard since she clicked the link.
My stroke is slow. Controlled. I'm not rushing this. I want to savor every second of watching her confess what she needs.
What she needs fromme.
The thousand dollars was a calculated risk. Not a bribe—insurance. Keep her focused. Keep her engaged. Make sure shedidn't panic and close the browser before she got far enough in to see what she was really agreeing to.
Worth every penny when I watched her face change. When doubt, became curiosity, became arousal.
And the phone call.
My grip tightens.
Her voice. Breathy. Nervous.
That little hitch when she said, "Fuck," instead ofhello.
She was scared, yes. But underneath she was interested. I heard it. The way she didn't hang up immediately. The way she listened.
She liked my voice.
Good.
She's going to hear it a lot over the next twenty-four hours.
The keystroke feed updates.
Question 1: Describe your darkest sexual fantasy in detail. What about it arouses you?
I stop stroking. Wait.
Her cursor blinks in the text box for thirty-seven seconds.
Then she starts typing.
Being held captive by someone who sees me completely?—
I resume stroking. Slower now.
