Proxy Lovers Ch. 03

So, here I am caught between dread and fear. I know that's not very clear, so here's how I see it. Fear is when you see something dangerous or something you believe is dangerous, right? Like when you freak out because there's a spider. Dread is when you are certain something dangerous is coming. Like opening a door into a room you're 100% sure is full of spiders.

There are two bits of context you need for this. First, I bleached my anus. I'm planning on making a video, just me, for Connor where I fuck my ass with a transparent dildo and I want my anus to be as photogenic as possible. This is relevant because, A) I want it to be a surprise and B) my anus is very sensitive right now.

Second, when I was ten, I was the only East Asian kid in my class (and I'm only half). On the first day of school, I came to school with a Hello, Kitty backpack because I was ten. I was not the only girl there with a Hello, Kitty backpack. On my second day of school, I was. Every other girl who had been carrying a Hello, Kitty backpack no longer was. On the third day of school, there were three Hello, Kitty dolls on my desk. And that kept happening for a couple of weeks until the school made a rule that giving gifts in class was only permitted on birthdays and holidays.

Shout out to my fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Hauser!

She could tell that this was humiliating for me, but I don't think she knew why. To her, I suspect, it was just the subtle bullying of picking out one innocuous trait someone has and harping on it ad nauseam. For me, though, the humiliation was much simpler: I'm not Japanese. I'm Chinese on my mother's side and Swedish on my father's.

I could take being bullied for being Asian in general or Chinese in particular. I'd had those facts thrown in my face by white kids my whole life. But being bullied for something that I wasn't? That struck me deep.

From then on, I started a campaign of hyper-self-representation. I ditched everything Asian that wasn't coded specifically Chinese. Hello, Kitty hadn't been a Japanese thing in my mind before, just a cute thing that I liked, but then it became "other". For a few weeks, I took one of my mom's hiking backpacks to school because it was red. That lasted for as long as it took to find something in Mulan.

We went clothes shopping, and I dragged my mom around for hours looking for girl's shirts that had high collars, ultimately settling on a bunch of turtlenecks. When we got home, I immediately cut the sleeves off, forcing my mom to stitch them so they looked presentable. I also started wearing a lot of pencil skirts or approximations thereof. All of this in pursuit of cheongsams. Mom didn't want me wearing a cheongsam every day because Chinese girls--the ones in China--didn't do that, but I was going to make it happen.

As for my hair: braids! All day, every day, and in increasing complexity. This was to represent Dad's side of the family. You know because Scandinavian girls always have braids. Always. This, too, embarrassed my mother eventually. Dad was into it, though, so it was less of a fight. That actually became the first thing I bonded with my paternal grandmother over. She's racist and has never liked my mom, but being invited over to teach me to do proper Swedish "oppombinding" thawed her out a little.

Oppombinding is like braiding your hair with a ribbon. And let me tell you, the addition of ribbons opened some fucking doors for me. You know who fucking loves hair ribbons? The Chinese! Mixing those two things made me feel like I was on full self-representation even when Mom made me wear jeans to school.

I still do it sometimes. Representing myself well is still a big part of who I am. I'm just a bit more elegant about it these days than assembling makeshift cheongsams out of H&M finds.

Okay, so, as of this moment, Connor and I are in the car driving to Szechuan Charlie's. Connor asked if I wanted to go, and I said, "Oh, yeah, that sounds good" like an idiot! Everything at Szechuan Charlie's is spicy. Also, Szechuan Charlie is a real person, and he is really my mom's brother-in-law, and he will put extra chilis in anything I order.

So, I'm sitting in the car very quietly dreading Uncle Chih-Ming's hot pot blasting through my bleached asshole and fear that Connor will think I am that girl. You see, not once in our relationship have I given him the "I don't know what I want for dinner" runaround. He's gotten "I'm not hungry yet" plenty of times, but I've never said I wanted something and then changed my mind. That's not me. Hot pot does sound delicious right now, but it's going to be hell later.

Also, what if my ass is too red for the pictures I want? What if I get anal fissures? I cannot put myself through that. So, I'm trapped, and every mile we drive makes a burning, blistering shit more likely and a mind change more inconvenient.

Then, mysteriously, Connor hits his turn indicator and pulls into a gas station. I glance at the dash because I refilled the car yesterday, and we haven't driven much since then. Sure enough, it's almost full. He doesn't pull up to a pump, just a parking spot.

As he undoes his seat belt, he looks at me and goes: "You know the phrase 'the silence was deafening'?"

"Yeah," I say, having no idea what's going on.

"Well, you just sat through 'Californication' without saying a damn word."

"I did?"

"Yep, so I'm getting us some gas station burritos and Blue Moons, and we're going to go up on the ridge, and you can tell me whatever."

He opens his door, gets out, and just as he starts to close it, I blurt: "I don't want spicy food!"

The thunk of the car door sounds right in the middle of that. So, Connor opens the door and goes: "What?"

"I don't want spicy food."

"Okay, how about a hot dog?"

"No, that's what I was thinking about."

"You were thinking about not wanting spicy food so hard that you didn't notice when California funk-rock band the Red Hot Chili Peppers came on?"

"Mmhmm,"

He gets back in the car. "What's up?"

"I don't want spicy food. When you suggested Szechuan Charlie's, I agreed without thinking about it, and then I realized I didn't want it, and I didn't want to be one of those women that changes her mind out of the blue."

Connor silently stares at the steering wheel. In the light of the gas station, I don't see any emotion on his face, just that look of the wheels turning, like he's doing the Beautiful Mind thing. It keeps happening. He's just sitting there. Someone has pulled up next to us, gone inside, bought snacks, come back out, and driven away in the time he spends figuring out whatever it is he's figuring out.

"I Febreze my clothes before I put them in the laundry." He says.

I'm worried he's having a stroke. "When? I've seen you undress and drop your clothes in the hamper."

"I have a can in my office and one in the bathroom. Also," he reaches over and opens the glove compartment. There's a can of Febreze in there. "It's not hard knowing when I'm about to change clothes."

"Okay..."

"I started doing it because I was worried about you, I guess, getting sick of my body odor."

"Huh..." I say.

Okay, so, when I was preparing to move in with Connor, one of my Chinese friends warned me about how terrible white guys smell. Also, black, Arab, and South Asian men. She's also racist, but only about small things, so it's not often you get a chance to call her out on it. Faced with such an opportunity, I did. I called her out for being racist by saying that I was going to be living in a hell of non-East-Asian man stink.

I tore into her so hard that she bought me a fruit basket to apologize. Then, she married my cousin (because there aren't that many Asians around here and she's racist), so I see her at least once a month.

I turn to Connor. He was trying to figure out how to react to my confession. He could have gotten defensive, he could have tried to therapize me; but instead, he chose vulnerability. So, I tell him what I want to hear.

"Connor," I say. "That's really nice of you. I would like you to keep doing that, but if you forget sometimes, that's okay."

Connor starts laughing. Like full-throated, we're watching The Good Place, laughing. And he gets me too. I mean, that is not what you're supposed to say when someone confesses to you, but I really don't want to deal with his body odor. I am here for honesty, not a stinky man. Still, even I kind of can't believe I said it.

We laugh for a bit. Someone outside gives us a weird look. Connor reels it in.

"I did not think you were going to say that." He says, swallowing the laugh.

"Speaking of saying things," I tell him. "Do not mention this to anyone in my family."

He nods. "Understood. What do you want to eat?"

"A salad, I guess."

"You guess?"

"It's not like I'm in the mood for it, but I haven't had anything green in like two days. It's what I know I should eat."

"Fair. We passed a vegan place a couple of blocks back."

"Vegan? Seriously?" That's an awfully girlie choice for him.

Connor shrugs. "I've never had a veggie burger or tofu burger. Maybe I'll like it."

--------------

Saturday morning rolls around, and I wake up to the feeling of Connor grinding his morning wood against my ass. Sadly, we don't fall asleep cuddling, so I assume he's awake.

"Morning," I say, but he doesn't answer. I look over my shoulder, and his eyes are closed. He's only half awake. Now, I could just let him do his thing until he wakes up all the way, but I get this idea, and I figure: why not?

Get fucked by Carl--TomDaPeeper--was weird. Because of the camera, he couldn't move much, so I was way more active than usual. I was performing for the camera the whole time. Even when I was blowing him, it wasn't about making him feel good; it was about looking like I loved doing it. And I did! I haven't been able to really go nuts with a dick since I got together with Connor.

The only time Carl really did anything was when he was fucking me on my back. That was still weird because he moved his stomach like a belly dancer to help keep the camera steady. It would have been funny if I hadn't been taking my first cock in close to a decade.

The sheer weirdness of it made me wonder what it was like for him. He and I didn't talk much afterwards because I had faked my orgasm and wanted to get home to Connor, whom I knew could get me there. (Pinned up against the wall... fuck, that's such a hot position.) So, with Connor acting more or less on autopilot and my phone within arm's reach, I saw an opportunity to answer the question I didn't have the chance to ask Carl.

Keeping my body in contact with Connor, I grabbed my phone and then rolled to face him. I pushed him onto his back and mounted him, opened up my camera, and started recording. There's a decent amount of natural light coming through the window, so the view has this really neat, cinematic look to it.

Connor's cock lays massive on his stomach, and I framed the shot so that my pussy is in the bottom half. I've got both hands on the camera to keep it steady, and I start rolling against him. Normally, I would rock my whole body forward, but for this, I'm trying to just move my hips. It takes a lot of concentration, so I'm barely even registering how it feels. Well, how my pussy feels; I am immediately aware of how little I work that particular set of muscles.

My moves are really jerky and irregular. My abs start burning after just a few seconds. It's all so technical. Like I don't hate doing this, but I don't feel sexy. I feel like there's a skill I'm trying to master, which is a different brand of fun. I'm not making a lot of progress, but hey, it's my first time. The video might still be hot enough for the page.

I keep going and do find a rhythm. It's a workout, but I can roll with that. In fact, the rhythm makes it easier to handle the burn. Once I've got that, I can start bringing other thoughts in. But, I don't start feeling the grind. My brain doesn't go to what's happening to my clit or anything. Instead, I'm thinking about Connor.

He's just lying there. He never does that. When I ride him, his hands go to work. At the very least, he'll rub my thighs. Today, though, he's totally still. Now, I figure he's faking because this is fun for him, but that makes me wonder what all I could do to him before he reacts. "How far can I take this" is apparently my new motto.

However, I don't get any ideas because Connor says: "Are you okay?"

"What?" I ask, having barely heard him.

"You don't seem to be enjoying this."

Well, that's going to be a cut. I stop the video. "What do you mean?"

"You've been riding me for a couple of minutes and you're barely moist down there."

"Oh, I was focusing on holding the camera steady."

"Oops, I guess I ruined that."

"I can edit around it. How long have you been awake?"

"Since you rolled me over."

"Just decided to play dead?"

"I was curious what you had in mind."

"Wanna keep going?"

"Absolutely,"

I climb off of him and get our little camera stand. Connor stays right where he is, but starts massaging his cock to keep himself hard.

"If we're going to upload this," I say, getting the camera on the stand. "We need to do something a little different."

"How about finishing with a tit fuck?"

"Oh, yeah! We haven't done one of those in a while."

"Actually," he says. "Give me the phone."

And I'm performing again. At least, this time I get eaten out.

--------------

Connor is good and milked when I send him off for his next "loan". Today's "other woman" is named Trish, who runs Trishaxxx. We actually got to sit down with her and her girlfriend, Addie, yesterday to sign the contract Carl uploaded to the community subreddit.

Both Trish and Addie are bisexual, but Addie doesn't appear in videos. She claims she's not photogenic. Hey, not everyone is into being naked on the internet. They are actual swingers, but mostly on vacation. Turns out there are whole resorts dedicated to the lifestyle. When Trish has a guy in her videos, Addie sometimes "warms him up", though she won't be with Connor since she's not into dicks that big.

It was really nice talking with them ahead of time, and I'm curious how that will make today different than last time. With Sydney and Carl, we had only talked online before the event.

Trish mostly posts nudes, and her videos are all PPV with at least one new video a week. Addie runs the camera for all of it. What she wants from Connor is good spanking followed by a lot of taking orders and being called a good girl. It's pretty much what he and I do, but dialed way up.

For one, I like a swap on the butt every once in a while, but Trish was asking how Connor was with a paddle or a riding crop. That's way beyond my pain threshold, though I enjoy it in porn. Apparently, Trish had orgasmed just from being spanked. Addie said that she spanks Trish plenty, but always begs out before it gets too far. She gets too nervous. Connor seems pretty confident about that part.

Second, Connor and I know each other like well for giving orders to have much bite to it. It's always exciting when he tells me to do something, but being really forceful is so unlike him that I've been known to giggle when he does it. And I don't enjoy being punished, so it all kind of falls apart.

I like obeying him and being called a good girl because it means he's enjoying himself. That's the part of subbing that turns me on, not so much the power dynamic, I guess.

As soon as Connor is gone, I strip naked and start preparing for my little photo shoot. I've got a clear, glass dildo and plenty of lube. My phone is the stand, and I am experimenting with angles. I set the timer, then get down on all fours and stick my butt up. The camera clicks, and I check the result. It takes a couple of tries, but I figure it out.

Imagining Connor opening up a picture of me with a dildo in my ass, one he can see through and see how much I'm gaping, has me buzzing. The one damper is that I don't know when to send it. I can't do it today. It has to be a non-horny day to have maximum impact. In my head, it's this jarring, day-ruining experience. (Not "ruin" like he's in a bad mood, but like he's so distracted that he can't concentrate. In the most elaborate version of the fantasy, he comes barging into my office to whisk me away for a quickie because it's the only way he'll be able to meet a deadline or something.)

It's this bummer of a compromise. Like, the really ideal way of doing it would be if I took the picture in the bathroom at work and sent it immediately. However, using a dildo on my ass freaks me out when I'm not ragingly horny. In my normal state of mind, the glass dildo alone freaks me out because: what if it breaks? When I'm horny, I don't care.

Plus, doing it at work has all kinds of risks attached. Again, risks that my horny brain has no room for, but how am I supposed to get that turned on in my office?

I remind myself that going around with the photo hidden on my phone will be its own kind of excitement. Then, my brain throws up this thought: I wish I had someone else to show these to. That way, I could get the instant and delayed gratification both. But I don't. The only remote possibility is Carl, and that doesn't sound very satisfying. Our encounter was too business-y for that.

That's when my eyes fall on the window. What if someone saw me take the photo? That could be fun. Our bedroom window isn't an option for that, but the living room is. We're on the seventh floor, and the bedroom window faces a car dealership, but the living room has a view of the court of our apartment complex. I would be surrounded by buildings full of windows from there.

Someone might complain, though. There are kids in the complex. I don't want to be some 12-year-old's sexual awakening. Not on all fours, ass fucking myself. Wearing a tight sweater, sure. You know, like, ten years down the road, some guy tells me that seeing me smile at him while I was wearing a bodycon dress imprinted on him sexually. That would be cute, but there's nothing cute about what I'm planning. It's probably a bad idea.

Then again, it's a Saturday afternoon. What pre-teen boy is at home and looking out the window now? They'll all be playing video games. I'll see what my horny brain thinks.

So, I take the camera, stand, and my laptop out to the living room. The laptop is because I'm getting a kind of livestream for this one. Addie is going to FaceTime me. She said she has a camera attachment for a phone. The sound won't be great, and she's asked me to mute myself, but I'll get to watch the whole thing.

It's 2 p. m. sharp when Addie calls.

"Hey!" I say when I answer.

"Hi, Sofia!" Addie replies. "Whoa! You're already naked."

"Yeah," I say, having forgotten about that.

"Damn, you have nice tits!"

That hits differently coming from a woman whom I know likes women. "Thanks," I say, my spine tingling.

Distantly, I hear Trish yell: "I want to see!"

"I got so turned on getting updates from the last time... well, I just thought I might as well."

"Sure," Addie is grinning.

Then, Trish appears on the screen. "Damn, girl!"

Now, this is getting embarrassing, but I'm not unhappy. "Have you guys not seen our videos?" I ask.

Ha! It's their turn to be embarrassed. "Sorry," Addie says. "We just saw Sydney's video."

"Honey," Trish says. "If we had seen you like this, you would have been invited."

"Actually," Addie raises her eyebrows at me. "We could wait a bit."

"Oh!" I laugh. "No, thank you. I'm..." Here, I have a conundrum. Saying 'I'm straight' somehow feels condescending. Plus, I can't be completely straight. Like I have a type of woman I like seeing in porn. That's at least a little bisexual, right? Gotta be diplomatic about this. "Um... I haven't played with other girls, like ever, and... my first time on a video?"

"Oh, yeah, totally!" Trish says, picking up what I'm laying down. "That's gotta be a personal journey."

"You can turn off your camera, if you want." Addie adds. "I won't be offended."

"Oh, you're going to see me, huh?" I say, imagining the camera set up.

"Yeah, you're about an inch above my camera screen."

"Hmm, I wouldn't want to distract you." I give her a flirty tone.

Addie and Trish give each other a look. "No, I'll be fine." Addie says. "If I can keep the camera level while watching the love of my life get railed by a hot dude, I can handle whatever you're doing."

We're all giving each other significant looks as I think this through. Finally, I just shrug and Addie bites her lower lip. Screw the window. I type a message to Addie: "Don't tell Connor what you see."

I watch their eyes read the message and they get all wide-eyed with anticipation. Addie gives me a conspiratorial nod. Then, she flips the camera. Now, I'm seeing part of their living room. Connor is standing there in his softest pair of jeans and a tight, black t-shirt. He's not yoked, he's a runner, but he still has enough alpha male aura for it to work for today's scenario.

There's a high-backed chair with a side table where I can make out a paddle, a pair of handcuffs, Connor's mask, and a plain, pink cylinder thing. Instantly curious what that's about. They've got some really bright lights on him. There's also a coatrack with nothing on it. It's on top of a short, wooden box for some reason. In the bottom of the screen, there's this black blur that moves with the camera; a shotgun microphone or whatever they're called.

These two have spent way more money on this than we have. They also have like ten thousand subscribers, so that makes sense.

"Positions!" Addie yells.

Connor puts on his mask, and Trish bounds into frame. She moves like a happy deer. She's wearing a white hoodie so cropped that I can see that her bra is both red and almost completely mesh. She has a frilly, white micro-skirt on with red thigh-highs held up by garter straps.

Addie gets the camera closer but keeps both Trish and Connor in frame. Trish does this head shake, getting into character, I guess.

"Rolling," Addie says.

I mute my microphone.

"Mr. Bunny," Trish says. "I need to apologize."

"What did you do?" He says, sounding not mad but just disappointed.

"I forgot what weekend it was." She says. "I thought you were going to own me next week."

"Did you?"

"Really, I did. It was an honest mistake."

"And the thing you need to apologize for?"

"Well, I was at a friend's house playing Tekken, and I kind of made a bet with him."

"The stakes being?"

"If I lost... I had to dance for him."

Connor takes a long, deep breath; really selling the bubbling anger. "And you lost?"

"Yeah,"

"What was the dance?"

"It was... I'm sorry. I forgot I was yours this..."

"Show me!" He cuts her off, sounding angry. It's good enough that I don't laugh. Maybe we need to reconsider doing this kind of thing at home.

Connor goes to sit in the chair. Some generic trip-hop music starts playing. Addie moves to get both of them in profile as Trish turns to face Connor. Trish steps wide and immediately drops into a squat, running her hands along her thighs over the stockings. Her hips start to roll as she touches herself.

Her body snakes upwards until she's standing and she spins around. She drops her hands to the floor, bending at the waist so that her ass is pointed right at Connor. The skirt rides up and her red, mesh underwear makes its first appearance.

Trish is skinny, so there's not a lot of ass there, but it is there. She slides her hands up her legs as she rises back to standing. Again, she squats. She's so leggy that her ass is hovering just above Connor's knees. She does a slow twerking kind of dance. Connor starts to reach out for her, but pulls his hand back.

I can't tell if that was real or not. I pretend it is and that gets me going; imagining Connor being so turned on and having to remind himself that it's too soon. From this angle, I can't see his crotch, so I can't begin to guess how hard he is, yet.

On the screen, Trish is turning around to face him again. She hikes a knee up onto his seat and straddles him.

"Was this part of your dance?" He asks, keeping his hands on the chair's arms.

"Yes," Trish says. "I was bad."

"How bad?"

Trish starts grinding on Connor's lap, while rubbing her bare stomach. The two of them are making really intense eye contact. Me, I'm biting my thumb. Connor is so hot when he's focusing. Are they really connecting? Holy shit.

As she continues to roll her hips against my fiancé's cock, Trish reaches up to massage her breasts through the hoodie. Connor's eyes stay on hers. Then, she reaches for the zipper and pulls it down slowly, hips never missing a beat. Her shoulders move back and forth a bit before she rips open the unzipped hoodie and presents her boobs to him.

They're very nice boobs, just a handful each. Her nipples are dark and a little ovoid through the red mesh.

The grinding stops as Trish bends backwards. Addie circles around to get the front view. Trish extends her hands all the way to the floor, shedding the hoodie. It looks amazing from this angle, but it's more psychological from Connor's. I can almost imagine her bending far enough to get her mouth around his cock.

I start playing with one of my nipples. Then I remember that Addie is watching. Well, maybe not watching, but she can see. That makes me straighten up a little.

Trish draws herself back up and Addie moves back to the side. Trish resumes grinding against Connor, holding onto his shoulders for balance. Her fingers run down his chest and turn little circles around his nipples. She's looking down at his chest, but his eyes are still on her face. When she glances up and notices, there's that eye contact again.

He is radiating a kind of judgmental energy. In my head, I'm like "girl, you need to apologize better" but also "Hey, Connor, where is that look when you're at home?" I seriously need him to do that to me. Maybe we should role-play.

Trish takes her hands from his chest and puts them on her own. She kneads her breasts through the mesh and I imagine it's a really nice weave, like you're being touched by a hundred tiny fingers. Her back straightens, raising the height of her breasts, but also jutting them towards him.

Now, his eyes drop. "That's the apology." I think. Her hips are thrusting in long drags across his legs as she works her fingers into her flesh.

She looks down and his eyes are on her tits, so she reaches down and squeezes them between her biceps. Leaning forward, her mesh-covered tits get almost close enough for Connor to lick them. Her hands are doing something. My guess is that she's adjusting his cock in his pants.

When she's finished, she grabs the back of the chair and, one then the other, gets her feet onto the chair and stands up. She drags her breasts across his face as she rises. Now, her pussy is a little above his nose. She reaches back and unbuttons the skirt. The buttons go all the way down, and she whips it off without having to step out of it. Holding the back of the chair, she bends her knees and grinds the air right in front of his face. She's just in her lingerie now. Red mesh bra and underwear with a garter belt and stockings in a close-enough shade of red.

The garter belt looks like three layers of straps. Connor must be loving that. The boy has a serious thing for straps.

Trish thrusts forward and almost rubs her pussy against Connor's face. I wonder what she smells like. Connor's nostrils flare, taking her in. I reach down and start playing with myself. The laptop's camera only gets my upper body, but the arm is suggestive. Though, it's hard to imagine that Addie is paying attention right now.

Once more, Trish turns, wiggling her butt in Connor's face before reaching for her toes again. This time, she uses her hands to ease herself down onto Connor's lap. Addie comes back around to the front. Trish begins a faster, serpentine dance. She's grinding her ass into Connor's lap while her torso writhes and she throws her hair about. Those thick, dark brown waves sweep Connor's face and then cascade over one shoulder and that half of her face. All the while, her hands slide across her belly and breasts. It's like a pagan liturgical dance.

As she's dancing, she reaches back and undoes her bra. One hand keeps it in place as her body continues to go wild. In a single, dramatic motion, she tosses back her head, throws her bra away, and lands against Connor's chest. Those broad, B-cup breasts are on full display, front and center in the frame. Addie knows what she's doing.

Trish grabs Connor's hands and pulls them to her breasts. He massages them while she grinds back against his cock. Addie moves the camera forward until Connor's shoulders almost reach either side of the frame.

"You see, Mr. Bunny?" Trish says huskily. "I was very naughty."

"That's everything?" He growls. "That's everything you did? It would be very disappointing if you were hiding something from me."

"Yes, sir. That's everything, sir. As soon as he got ahold of my boobs, he creamed himself. He doesn't have your control."

"I trust you," Connor says, reaching up to stroke her cheek. "But you have been a very naughty girl."

"I know, sir. I'm sorry."

They're face to face now. Their lips are almost touching. And I know that Connor is in character; he never says stuff like that, but... it's so convincing! They don't look like he did with Sydney. They look like they're in some kind of dark, toxic relationship. My heart twinges seeing it. I'm jealous.

He drops his hands to the chair arms, and Addie moves away just before he hauls himself suddenly to his feet, sending Trish sprawling to the floor.

"You are supposed to be mine." He says. "Knowing what you did, I'm not sure I want you anymore."

"I'm sorry, sir." Trish says from the floor. She crawls to his feet. "I'll do anything you want. Anything at all. I'm yours."

Connor kneels down and grabs Trish by the throat. She clamps both of her hands on his arm, looking like she's trying to pull it away. Instead, he holds her tight and raises her off the floor until she's on her knees.

"You need to be reminded who you belong to." He growls, then yells: "You need to remember who I am!"

Where the shit did this come from? He's in an actual relationship with me, and he's never talked like this, never acted possessive at all. Come on, dude! You couldn't get this Alpha for my birthday!

Then, Connor grabs her by the hair--that massive mane that neither side of my family could hope to give me--and yanks her off balance. She cries out as she falls on her ass. Trish grabs his wrist with both hands, and Connor grabs the handcuffs off the table. He drags her, literally kicking and screaming to the coatrack and hauls her up to her feet.

When he releases her hair, he grabs one arm, then the other, and sets them on the coatrack hooks before cuffing her. Once they're both locked, she pulls at them. The chain is on the other side of the post, and I assume that box under it is a weight to keep her from just knocking it over.

This is insane! I know it isn't real. If it were, I doubt Addie would still be filming, but if it were real, it would be abusive. The hot kind of abusive, if that makes sense. Like he's not really hurting her (though the hair must have hurt), but he's acting like he would. I sent him so many dark romance novels to read when I was really pushing for more dommy stuff in our bedroom. And this is exactly that! Why is he doing it for her and not for me?

But he is doing it for me, right? He's giving this his all because he knows I'm watching. There's no way he would do this otherwise. I just don't get why he couldn't do it to me. You know, the woman he's in the actual relationship with and not the girl he just met who he has incredible chemistry with.

Shit. That's the answer. He can easily be someone else with her because they don't have a relationship. They don't really know each other. With me, he's himself. He's always himself. To be someone else, he needed someone else. He said as much before.

And I know him. I know that if some girl had asked for this when I wasn't in the picture, he would have said 'no'. He's giving me something he couldn't give me before.

The temperature has risen.

My hand is working my clit like mad as I watch Connor kneel down behind Trish and peel those mesh panties off her. I can feel his fingers against my skin; the thousand tiny scratches as the mesh slides down my ass; the handcuffs cold around my wrists; the burn in my shoulders as I hang from them.

Connor leaves the stockings and garter belt on because who the fuck wouldn't? Then, he goes to the table and gets the paddle. Trish's back is to him. She has no idea what he's doing. Well, she knows what, more or less, but not when. In fact, I don't know when. It's so quiet that I can hear myself breathing. I can hear the sticky sounds of my fingers between my soaked labia.

On the screen, Connor steps closer to Trish. He extends the paddle with his left hand and gently rubs it against her skin, drawing a circle in her mind.

"Naughty, naughty girl," he says darkly before pulling back the paddle and smacking her ass with his right hand.

The crack of it is like a lightning bolt. My own body flinches. I need to cum. I push two fingers inside myself and stroke my g-spot. Connor is drawing a line with the paddle up Trish's other cheek and a second after the rubber leaves her skin, his hand slaps down on it. Trish cries out, then moans.

This is where I would tap out, but I know they're just getting started. Connor caresses Trish's ass, stimulating the nerves around where he spanked her to lessen the pain. His hand cradled the bottom of her tush and crack, he spanks her again. It was so fast! I barely saw his hand move.

Trish's whole body recoils and her scream fades seamlessly into a moan. Now, Connor is kneeling behind her. He tightens his lips and blows cool air onto the spot he just hit. Trish writhes feeling it. He takes a breath and does it again and Trish settles down a little. Connor takes a breath.

Crack!

He spanks the other side. Trish screams. Oh, fuck! That pushes me over. It's just a little one, but I lose focus on the laptop as the orgasm ripples gently through me. I wonder if Addie saw.

"So," Connor barks. "Naughty girl... do you think you've had enough?"

"Yes," Trish groans.

"Yes, what?" Connor growls, getting right up in her ear.

"Yes, sir."

"Wrong answer!" He bellows and then brings the paddle down on her.

"Eeyah-huh-ooooooh," Trish mewls.

"Who decides when you've had enough?"

Trish is panting and sounds half delirious when she says: "You, sir."

Smack! Connor spanks Trish and then immediately--smack!--hits her other cheek. There's no pattern to it. He leaves random intervals between. He alternates cheeks with no apparent rhyme or reason. He caresses a little less often than he spanks. It's impossible to know what he'll do next or when. It's torture. It's exquisite.

I adjust my laptop so that the camera gets the couch cushions. Then, I set up my phone right behind it. I'm just eyeballing the framing instead of testing it like before. It's fine. Instead of stills, I switch to video and hit record.

Sitting primly on the sofa, I pick up the glass dildo and show it to both cameras. I can't see my laptop screen very well now, but I can still hear the cracks and moaning. Trish is screaming a lot less and going straight into low, throaty sobs of pleasure. That whole room probably smells of her pussy.

Back to me. I drizzle lube all over the dildo, then slide down onto the floor and turn over so I'm on my knees and my butt is pointed towards the cameras. Connor is going to love this, but I'm actively imagining Addie watching me. With my left hand, I spread my cheeks and show off my pale, bleached asshole.

It occurs to me, now, that I need to lock up how long an anal bleaching lasts. I don't want to send this video to Connor only for him to get my usual dark brown ring.

With my right hand, I move the dildo into place. Both of my arms are behind my back, and my tits are squishing into the couch. My mind conjures a pair of handcuffs for my wrists as I do this, and I wonder if I could cuff my own hands behind my back. If Connor came into the bedroom and found me cuffed like this--on my knees, ass up--how long would it take for him to get to work? How long would he make me wait?

I would want him to wait, build anticipation; but I wouldn't want to know. How do I make that happen? Ugh... what was that thing the philosophers wanted? Rigidly defined areas of doubt and uncertainty. Something like that.

Anyway, I start sliding the dildo into my ass while Connor unleashes an absolute barrage on Trish. It's like six or seven spanks all in rapid succession. Oof, I'm really competing for Addie's attention here.

That stretching feeling wipes all the other thoughts away. It hurts a little, but it's also that feeling of taking a massive dump, like the relief of it. I groan into the couch cushion. Then I turn my head and groan again. Addie can't hear me, but my phone can; Connor will.

I sink that bad boy as deep as it will go, which is only about four inches. With my left hand, I fumble for the lube and position it right in my crack. My right hand withdraws the dildo nice and slow, really drawing out that small friction on my anus. Once it's almost out, I squeeze the lube and push it back in. The last couple of inches slip by with next to no resistance before I feel it poke my guts.

I take a deep breath and release it slowly. It comes out as a moan. This is still such a strange feeling. I still can't tell if I'm enjoying it or the novelty. But thinking about Addie watching me, Connor watching me, that gets my juices flowing.

Slowly, gently, I withdraw and plunge the dildo. Sometimes, I angle the dildo for a little more stretch. The pain makes me feel alert, and there's a thrill in that. I'm awake and electric as I get into a kind, affectionate rhythm. My mind drifts to Connor getting rock hard watching this, then Addie getting wet.

Yet, I'm not performing; not like with Carl. I'm showing off; exhibiting, I suppose. I don't know why it's different, but it is, and it's a lot more fun. Finally, I need to come again.

I slide down the couch another inch so that my left hand can get to my pussy. No clit play, this time, just straight into my g-spot. My palm presses on my clit. I stroke myself to another quiet orgasm. My back tightens, and I freeze for a second. The tension, my breath, it all gets locked in my body. I'm a bundle of pressure, tight as a balloon. And I let it all out with a loud, husky sigh.

I take the dildo out and just lay there recovering.

Smack! Connor is still punishing Trish, and she answers with the longest moan yet.

"Had enough?" He demands.

Trish gives him a few stuttering cries that even I can't decipher. Then, she squeaks: "Sir."

Crack!

I get my butt back on the couch. It's tender, but okay as long as I don't move. Lifting up the laptop screen, Addie has gone in very close on Trish's ass. It's bright red all over. She is going to have trouble sitting.

Whatever is in that box below the coatrack, which I assume is bolted to, must be really heavy because Trish is barely standing. I can see the strain in her shoulders. Her knees are together, and she's on the balls of her feet. Sweat is glistening on her skin.

The paddle comes into frame and pushes between her legs, forcing her into a more stable position while also running the dark rubber along her labia. When Connor pulls it back, he turns it to the camera, and there is a distinct sheen to it. Trish is really enjoying this.

His hand comes into frame, and he's holding a pink cup thing with a cylinder of ice coming out of it. Oh! It's an ice massager for your face. I've seen these and always assumed it was a covert sex toy. Okay, anything is a sex toy if you're kinky enough, but you know what I mean.

Connor runs the ice over Trish's ass cheek in a spiral motion, one then the other. Trish mews the whole time, even after he takes it away. The paddle reappears. Connor taps it gently on the underside of Trish's butt, making it jiggle a little.

Addie moves back. Connor rubs the paddle on her ass before... crack! Trish screams and lunges forward. She grips the coatrack with both hands. She keeps moaning for a couple of seconds after and then--crack! crack! crack!--three rapid-fire spanks. In this wider angle, I can see Connor has taken off his pants. His cock is at full mast.

Trish is moaning madly, and it looks like she's trying to climb up the coatrack. Connor comes in for another triple. Smack! Smack! Smack! The screams sound like she's right on the edge of orgasm. Connor hears it too and goes in again. Crack! Crack! Crack!

"Agh!" Trish cries. "Please, Mr. Bunny!"

Connor drops the paddle and quickly wraps one arm around Trish's waist, hoisting her up off her feet. She lifts her arms free of the coatrack as Connor uses his other hand to frantically rub her clit. Trish is screaming like she's being murdered, but Addie keeps filming.

He lifts her up a little, her back coming up higher on his chest, and he grabs his cock, guides it into position, and then drops her down on it. Half of his cock disappears inside of her, and Trish bends across his arm and goes abruptly silent. Her eyes are fluttering, her mouth is agape, and her handcuffed arms are frozen in mid-air.

Using both of his hands, Connor spins the skinny girl on his dick until she's sideways, then lowers her to the floor. She melts down onto her back, as Connor keeps her leg from kicking him. Then, he starts fucking her. He's using slow, gentle strokes to bury himself deeper inside of her. Trish doesn't make a sound. I'm not sure she's breathing.

Connor gets most of the way in before saying: "Yeah, take it all." Then pulls out slowly before easing himself back in. Trish lies on the floor and lets out a choked groan. Her arms rise up a little and she claps once and barely audibly. Immediately, Connor pulls out of her.

"You good?" He says in his normal voice.

Trish answers with a stuttering, high-pitch moan and I hear Addie's main camera beep.

"Let's get her to the bath." Addie says as she puts the camera on the floor.

I can sort of see Connor and Addie pick Trish up and carry her off screen. It's a good seven or eight minutes before Addie returns. She pops the phone off her camera and switches to selfie mode.

"Hi, Sofia," she says sing-song.

"Hi. Is everything okay?" I ask.

"Oh, it's great." Addie tells me. "Trish is going to be talking about this for months, maybe years. Here's the thing, we don't have the money shot."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what we have isn't really a satisfying ending for the video. Basically, we need Connor to cum."

"Oh, sure. Yeah."

"Now, plan A is we give Trish a few minutes to recover, then get Connor excited again and he jacks off onto her stomach. Plan B is a change in what we talked about yesterday and I wanted to get your okay."

"What is it?"

"Well," she suddenly looks kind of shy. "After... everything..." she gives me a wink, so I think she means my little show. "I think I want to give Connor a try. Are you okay with that? I can send you some pictures."

"Oh!" I laugh. "Sure, if he's up for it. How will that help with the money shot? The shot is the same. He just gets to use my body to get him there." She shrugs.

"Yes, that's fine. Have fun!" I tell her.

"Okay, I have to end the call because I only have 10% battery left, but I'll send you some pictures!"

"Thanks! Bye!"

"Bye!" She says, looking like a kid who just found out they're going to McDonald's, one with a play place.

The screen goes dark, and I shut my laptop before I get a good look at myself.

When I first started having sex, the weirdest thing was the clean-up. There's all the excess fluids, and you have to go pee and get dressed again. Even with a regular partner, when you don't have to get dressed again, you have to make the bed and wash the toys, etc. Like I get why that's never in the movies, but it should be.

You know, if it was a comedy, you could start the scene with the sex ending and then get all the clean-up. Have the characters washing some weird stuff to make the audience go "what the fuck was that for?" Or like the girl is peeing and the guy walks in eating a carrot, and she's like "ew!" And he's like "it's nothing I haven't already eaten."

My clean-up is a lot less funny. I have to wash the dildo and put it back in its foam box. I have to get the camera stand and put it away. I do get dressed. I have the distinct impression that Connor is going to want an ice pack when he gets home, so it's no fun flouncing around naked until then.

In my jammies, I sit on the couch to edit down my video. I forgot to turn it off, and it just kept filming until it filled up the hard drive. So, I have to plug it into my laptop and download a bunch of pictures and videos to free up enough space to do the edit. Then I'm like "why?" and just edit it on my laptop.

About a half hour later, I get a few pictures from Addie. She decided to ride Connor; perfectly sensible as she can control the depth that way. She only got about three-quarters of it from the pictures, but her face looked euphoric. The last photo was of Connor's dick and the spray of cum on Trish's stomach with the message "money shot".

--------------

Connor and I are curled up on the couch watching Jupiter Ascending because that's the vibe. As suspected, he has a bag of frozen peas between his legs.

"So," I say as Mila Kunis scrubs a toilet. "First threesome, huh?"

"Oh," he replies. "Yeah, I guess so. Yeah."


"No?"

"Well, it wasn't like both of them were involved at the same time."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he says. "So, Addie rode me for a bit, but it wasn't doing much for me. When Trish came out, ready to get the last shot, we switched so that I was on top of Addie, but I just worked my head against her opening. That's like maximum squeeze, you know? When that got me close, I let Addie up and Trish laid down and then I jacked off onto Trish. So, kind of a threesome."

"You were deep into character." I say. "I've never seen you like that."

"Yeah," he says and there's some guilt in his voice. "I know... it's easier to pretend with a stranger."

"I figured."

"Also, we should think of a safe word."

"Like the clap?"

"Oh, the clap was the signal for 'stop the scene'. The 'keep going' word was 'sir' and the 'stop spanking' word was 'Mr Bunny'."

"Oh!" I say as pieces fall into place. "Okay!"

"What did you get up while you were watching? I didn't see a dildo on the bathroom floor."

"No, I was prepared this time."

"Are you officially into anal, now?"

"Nope, not officially. Still in the curiosity phase."

"That's a fun phase."

"Yeah. Addie did cum, right?"

"Of course. I ate her out before she rode me. You know, loosen things up."

"Sure,"

Mila Kunis is having her eggs harvested.

"This is a weird conversation," I blurt.

"I know!" Connor laughs. "Honey, I'm home! Hello, dear, how was the sex?"

It's my turn to laugh as I imagine some black-and-white sitcom couple having this discussion. "John Thomas needs something cold," I say in a deep voice before switching to a housewife voice. "I have just the thing. Our new refrigerator and freezer from General Electric keeps these peas extra cold." Back to the man voice: "It sure does, and my new La-Z-Boy recliner is so soft that even my most delicate parts feel like they're resting on a cloud."

We have a good laugh while elf-eared Channing Tatum rollerblades on air. We settle into quiet and watch the movie. Then, the intrusive thoughts get me.

"I want to be handcuffed."