Chapter 6: The Morning After
The tripod was a cold, skeletal intruder in the center of the room.Evan adjusted the phone mount with a series of sharp clicks, his movements efficient, robotic. He wouldn’t look at me.
I stood by the bed, rolling my shoulders, trying to settle into a mindset.The tank top felt thin against my skin, the shorts tight across my new hips. I was aware of every breath, every shift of fabric. The buzz from the overhead bulb was a drill in my skull.
“Test stream is live on the second screen,” Evan said, his voice stripped of its usual sarcastic lilt.“Audio’s good.Camera’s framed. You look… you look fine.”
“I look like a fucking camgirl,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.
“That’s the point, Taylor.”
Drew hovered in the doorway, a bundle of twitchy energy. He’d slicked his hair back, but a piece had already sprung free, hanging over his forehead. He kept wiping his palms on his jeans.“So, uh… chat’s already asking when you’re starting. Donation goals are popping.”
“Give me a second,” I snapped.The command felt good, familiar. It was my voice, my authority, cutting through the thick, anticipatory air. I walked to the desk, ignoring the way my breasts moved under the thin cotton, and leaned into the laptop’s camera. The preview window showed my face—wide green eyes, a determined set to my jaw. I saw the chat scroll on the side monitor, a cascade of emojis and demands.
shirt off now!
where’s Drews dick lol
get that bitch on her knees
My stomach turned.I straightened up, turning back to the room.“Alright.Drew. You’re up first.Remember what we practiced.”
Drew nodded, a jerky, eager motion. He fumbled with his belt.
“Not yet, you idiot,” Evan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.“Wait for her cue. And for god’s sake, try to look like you’ve done this before.”
I climbed onto the bed, the springs groaning under me.I arranged myself against the headboard, propped up on pillows. I spread my legs, just enough.The fabric of the shorts pulled taut across my thighs. I took a long, slow breath, locking eyes with the camera’s lens.It was just a game. A fucked-up, high-stakes game.I hit the ‘Go Live’ button on the laptop touchpad.
A soft chime echoed.The red recording light on the phone glowed.
“Hey, fuckers,” I said, my voice a low, controlled drawl.It worked.Chat exploded. “You wanted a show?Let’s get this started. Drew, get over here.”
He practically stumbled across the room, his cock already half-hard in his boxers. The sight of it, thick and flushed, sent an unwelcome pulse between my legs.I hated it. I focused on his nervous eyes instead.“Lose the clothes. All of them.”
He did, scrambling out of his t-shirt and kicking his jeans into the pile of controllers. His erection sprang free, bobbing as he moved.I kept my expression cool, detached.A general surveying a hopeless recruit.
“Come here.Stand right there.” I pointed to the edge of the bed.He obeyed. I reached out, not with tenderness, but with a clinical firmness, and wrapped my fingers around his shaft. He gasped. I gave him a few slow, rough strokes, feeling him harden completely in my grip.Pre-cum beaded at the tip.I smeared it with my thumb.
“Look at that,” I said to the camera, a cruel smile playing on my lips. “Eager, isn’t he?” I released him.“On the bed. On your back.”
He lay down, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I swung one leg over him, straddling his hips.I could feel the heat of him against me, through the thin shorts. I leaned forward, my hair falling around my face, and put my hands on his chest, pinning him.
“You do what I say.You come when I say. Understood?”
He nodded, mutely.
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts and panties and, in one fluid motion, shimmied them down and off, tossing them toward Evan’s feet. I didn’t look at him.I heard his sharp intake of breath.
Now I was naked from the waist down, exposed to the camera, to Drew, to Evan, to the thousand unseen eyes watching. The air was cool on my wetness. I positioned myself above Drew’s cock, guiding him with one hand.The broad, smooth head pressed against my opening.I let my weight drop.
A choked groan tore from Drew’s throat as I sank onto him, sheathing him inside me in one slow, deliberate slide. The sensation was a brutal, full invasion—a stretching, filling heat that made my vision blur for a second. My body clenched around him involuntarily, a traitorous spasm of tight, slick muscle.
“Fuck,” I breathed, the word ripped from me.Then I began to move.It wasn’t loving. It wasn’t even passionate. It was mechanical, a piston driving down, taking him deep, then rising up almost completely before slamming back down.My thighs burned. The wet, rhythmic sound of our joining filled the room, obscene and loud. I kept my eyes on the camera, my face a mask of concentrated disdain, even as pleasure began to coil, hot and insistent, in my gut.
Drew’s hands flew to my hips, his fingers digging in. “Taylor, I’m… I’m gonna—”
“You’re not,” I snarled, slamming down harder, forcing a cry from him.“You hold it. You look at the camera and you fucking hold it.”
I rode him like that, a punishing rhythm, using his body for my own end, chasing the orgasm that was building despite my rage. My tits bounced with each impact, the nipples hard and aching.I could feel the sweat gathering between my shoulder blades. The chat was a screaming, scrolling blur of dollar signs and fire emojis on the screen behind me.
My climax hit suddenly, a wave of violent, shuddering pulses that squeezed around Drew’s cock. I threw my head back, a ragged moan escaping before I could bite it back. For three seconds, I was gone, lost in the filthy, physical truth of it.
As the throbs subsided, I looked down at Drew.His face was contorted, a portrait of agonized restraint. I leaned close, my lips brushing his ear.“Now,” I whispered.
He exploded inside me with a ragged shout, his hips bucking off the bed, his whole body locking rigid. I felt the hot rush, the final, helpless pulses. I stayed there, impaled, until he was spent and limp beneath me.Then, without ceremony, I pulled myself off him. I stood on shaky legs, feeling his cum begin to leak down my inner thigh. I turned to the camera, raw and glistening.“One down,” I said, my voice hoarse. I swiped a hand through the damp hair on my forehead.“Evan. Your turn.”
Evan hadn’t moved from his post by the tripod. His face was pale, his knuckles white where he gripped the edge of the desk. He looked at me, then at Drew panting on the bed, then back at me.The pragmatic veil was gone.Something raw and hungry and horrified stared back.
“Your terms,” he said, the words flat.“My terms,” I confirmed. “Lose the clothes.On your knees. By the bed.”
For a long moment, I thought he’d refuse.That the last shred of our old friendship would hold. But his eyes dropped to the mess between my legs, and his jaw tightened. He began to unbutton his shirt, his movements slower, more deliberate than Drew’s frantic strip. He undressed with a quiet intensity that was infinitely more unnerving.
When he was naked, his own erection evident, he walked to the side of the bed and knelt on the stained carpet.He looked up at me, waiting.
I approached him, standing over him. I placed a hand on his head, tangling my fingers in his messy brown hair.I guided his face toward me.
“You know what to do,” I said, and pushed him forward.He didn’t hesitate.His mouth found me, hot and wet and knowing. His tongue dove into me, lapping up the mixed slickness there—mine, Drew’s. He ate me out with a desperate, focused urgency, his hands gripping my ass, pulling me harder against his face.The sensation was different, sharper than being filled. It was an intimate violation that made my knees buckle.
I rode his mouth, my hands fisted in his hair, holding him in place.I watched the back of his head, the tense line of his shoulders. This was submission.His, and in a fucked-up way, mine too. I came again, quicker this time, a sharp, bright flash that made my toes curl. I ground myself against him until the last tremor faded.I stepped back, breathless.“On the bed. Now.”
He climbed onto the mattress, pushing a dazed Drew aside. He lay on his back, his cock jutting upward, rigid and ready.I didn’t mount him. Instead, I turned my back to him, looking over my shoulder at the camera. I lowered myself slowly, reaching behind to guide him, sinking onto him backwards.The angle was deeper, more severe. A gasp was punched from my lungs.I began to move, rolling my hips in a slow, grinding circle. One of my hands braced on his thigh, the other reached back, grabbing a handful of his hair, yanking his head up to watch. His hands clamped onto my waist, his fingers pressing brutal marks into my skin.“You wanted content,” I spat, my voice shaking with each inward thrust. “You got it.You happy now?”
He didn’t answer. He just fucked up into me, each drive hitting a spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids.It was angry. It was personal.It was the furthest thing from performance. I came a third time, a sobbing, broken thing, my body convulsing around him. He followed seconds after, his release a hot flood, his face buried between my shoulder blades with a stifled, guttural sound.Silence.
The only sounds were our ragged breathing and the hum of the laptop fan. The chat was moving too fast to read, a solid wall of text and money.
I pulled myself off Evan, every muscle screaming.I stood, swaying, on the floor.Cum dripped freely down my thighs. I walked to the laptop, my movements deliberate, and hit the ‘End Stream’ button.
The red light died.
The room was plunged into a heavy, post-coital stillness, thick with the smell of sex and sweat and betrayal.I didn’t look at either of them. I stared at the blackened screen, seeing only my own hollow reflection.
“We hit the donation goal,” Evan said from the bed, his voice utterly empty.“By a mile.”
I nodded, once. The victory tasted like ash.I picked up my discarded shorts, but didn’t put them on. I just walked out, leaving them there in the silence.