Page 15 of Wicked Scorn
I lean back slightly, letting the fairy lights cast a soft glow around me, enhancing the atmosphere. As the minutes tick by, I lose myself in the rhythm of the interaction, the ebb and flow of desire and fantasy intertwining seamlessly.
Show us a little more. PLEASE
Another message pops up, and I can almost hear the collective holding of breath on the other side of the screen.He’s a regular chatter in my room, and he knows I don’t take my clothes off, but without fail he asks every time. My therapist says this is a good way to find my voice without feeling unsafe without going back to the night my voice and my choices were taken away from me.
“You know I don’t do that,” I say, winking at the camera. “But thank you for asking nicely this time.”
Lose the mask, sweetie. Let us see that beautiful face.
Another message fires off and I can’t help but smile. They’re relentless and I don’t have to bend to any of their wills. None of them can grab me. None of them can force me to do anything I don’t want to do. None of them can take anything I’m not willing to give them.
With practiced ease, I let the lace strap of my mask slip down just a bit; the fabric caressing my skin as it moves. I’m careful not to show too much of my face, but it gets the reaction I wanted, and that makes me feel like I reallyamin control. The chat box goes wild, their excitement palpable even through the screen. I revel in the power, the control, the way they hang onto my every move.
“More?” I ask, my tone laced with seductive promise. “Or is this enough for tonight?”
Never enough!
Comes the unanimous response, their desperation almost tangible.
“Greedy boys,” I chide gently, my smile widening. “But I suppose I can indulge you...just a little longer.” My stomachsinks. None of this feels right, but I keep pushing through like my therapist told me to.
Tell us about your day
One user types, their excitement palpable even through the screen.
“Ah, today was quite an adventure,” I say, leaning closer to the camera as if sharing a delicious secret. “I stumbled upon a hidden garden on campus. You wouldn’t believe the beauty—roses as big as my head, and the scent… intoxicating. I felt like Alice in Wonderland.”
Did you fall down any rabbit holes?
Another fanboy asks, his username flashing in bright green.
“Not this time,” I reply with a sly smile. “But who knows what tomorrow will bring?”
Any tips for surviving this semester?
A different user chimes in, shifting the conversation.
“Ah, the eternal struggle,” I laugh softly. “Balance is key, my loves. Study hard, but don’t forget to take breaks. And caffeine—lots of it.”
The chat box fills with a mix of laughter, heart emojis, and more questions. I make sure to respond to each one, weaving in bits of humor and advice, keeping the energy lively and engaging.
Can we have a 1-on-1 chat?
One message stands out, repeated persistently by a user named Knight99. I ignore it, focusing on the collective experience rather than indulging one individual.
What’s your favorite book?
Another user asks, pulling me back into the flow.
“Hard to choose just one,” I say thoughtfully. “But ‘Wuthering Heights’ always has a special place in my heart. The passion, the torment...it’s beautifully dark.”
Just like you
Someone comments, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I tease, but it’s not a genuine warmth spread through me. Despite the mask and the distance, I truly feel fine, and I haven’t felt that way in a long time.
Please, just 1-on-1
