A Voyeur Pays the Price

"Turn it off," I muttered breathlessly. I made to back away from the glare of the webcam, as more comment beeps came in. Heather looked up from her laptop angrily. Clearly I wasn't going to be going anywhere. An awkward silence descended on the room, which she allowed to go on for fully ten excruciating seconds before ending it with what was almost a smile...

"Strip." It was a simple command, but it didn't really sink in when she said it.

"What?"

"I said -- take off your clothes," she snarled. The full weight of her demand, and of what my penalty was, hit me.

"M-my clothes? No... I-I can't-" I stammered. Heather angrily grabbed her phone from the table behind her.

"This is your first warning. If you ever say no to me again when I ask you to do something, I will call the police. Now stand in front of the camera, and remove your clothes."

She was serious. I was cornered -- no way out. Do as she said, or be arrested. After glancing helplessly between the camera and the angry blonde beside it, I gave in. I trembled as I pulled my shirt over my head in the glare of the webcam.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Comment after comment poured in as Heather read them and smirked. I didn't want to imagine what they were saying. I could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on me, as I was left standing in my underwear in the middle of Heather's suite, shivering. She stared at me as I stood there, trying not to look at her.

"Keep going." I groaned inwardly.

"Please. Please -- Miss Dean, is it? I -- no wait," she made a point of dialling numbers into her phone. I grabbed the hem of my underwear and pulled down. The comments surged in again as my dick was exposed to the camera. I stepped out of them miserably. I was highly conscious of the way the slightest movement made my balls dangle and sway for my audience.

"Hmmm. You don't seem to be impressing my followers much," Heather said dryly. I turned red. I didn't exactly have the most impressive physique -- I'd never been in a gym in my life. And even though at six inches I'd never exactly thought of myself as under-endowed shall we say, facing my virtual audience suddenly made feel very... small. "'Call that a man?'" Heather read out, "'no wonder he has to get his kicks spying on women -- bet he's a virgin.'"

I couldn't look at her any more, just stood staring at the floor, totally ashamed and completely naked. This was utter humiliation

"You surprise me Peter," said Heather, resting against her armchair. "You have no problem spying on naked women, but can't take it when you're on the receiving end?" I said nothing, just longed for the lesson to be over.

"Stand closer to the camera -- you won't be hiding anything."

Apparently not satisfied in humiliating me with mere full-frontal nudity to her army of followers, she made me adopt what she called 'poses.' I was made to rest one foot up on the table, to grab my balls and lift them up, exposing my scrotum, to turn around so that my ass was inches from the camera. With each pose I felt my will to resist break a little more. I just limply did as I was told.

"Now, bend forward and reach for your toes," she commanded, now sat down and sipping on her glass of wine again with an air of indifference. With my buttocks still inches from the camera, I obeyed, turning red at the thought of the view I must be offering to the camera. I tried to ignore the stream of beeps flooding in that my exposed anus had prompted. I made to stand back up but she stopped me.

"I did not tell you to stop your pose did I?" I stared silently at the ground, trying to pretend I was somewhere else. She must have taken her shoes off, because I didn't hear her approach, or know she was beside me until I felt her knee make contact with my stomach.

I hit the ground. It wasn't exactly a hard hit, but I'd been in an awkward position and it was well placed. I tried to hide my dick with my hands at least, though I was probably out of shot anyway.

"So how does it feel?" she asked. I looked up at her from the ground. She wasn't smiling, but there was a look of slight satisfaction on her face.

"I'm sorry," I said weakly. I just wanted to get across that my lesson was learned, and get out of there and pretend it had never happened. She grabbed my wrist.

"Get up." She pulled me roughly to my feet and pushed me toward the table. I put up no resistance. "What are you sorry for?"

"For watching you through your window," I mumbled, falling painfully against the wooden table. I couldn't help but glance at the webcam every few seconds -- I just couldn't block it out, knowing that everyone could see my humiliation. I sat, cross-legged.

"And what did you watch?"

"Y-you."

"Me what?"

"I watched you naked." It was painful just saying it, like I was reminding her of everything.

"And what did you see today?" I looked up at her. Don't make me say it, I thought desperately. "Well?"

"I saw you holding a... sex toy." The last two words were barely audible.

"Did that excite you? Did that arouse your pathetic male mind?" When it became clear that this wasn't a rhetorical question either, I nodded. "Why? What did you want to see?"

"I wanted to see you use it," I mumbled dejectedly.

"Be specific."

"I wanted to watch you m-masturbate with it." Beep. Beep. Beep. The audience didn't sound happy.

"And?" This was unbearable. What could I say? 'I wanted to watch you come?' Luckily, Heather answered for me.

"Men get off on watching a woman orgasm," she said matter-of-factly to the camera. "It makes them feel powerful to watch her writhe and twitch helplessly. It's all a power play. Wouldn't you agree?" She turned to me at that last question.

"Erm... no..?" I wasn't sure what the right answer was here.

"You don't think being made to orgasm for someone else is a sign of submission then? You don't think it's a humiliation?" Her temper was rising again, and I had no idea how to head it off. "Well, we'll see if you agree once you've had to do it. Lie back on the table." I backed away and did as she asked, lying on the uncomfortable, wooden table. The polished wood was cold against my bare back. Heather moved the chair with the webcam on it so that the camera was angled down between my legs. "Now, masturbate for us. Like an animal."

"W-what?"

"Are you refusing?" she asked, picking up her phone again.

"No! I j-just... I can't..." As much as this woman may have aroused me in the past month, this situation definitely did not. This was not going to be a command I was able to do.

Heather seemed to realise this. Staring coldly down at me, she quietly stepped back out of view of the camera, took off her suit jacket, and unbuttoned the top half of her blouse. Unbeknownst to my audience, I was now staring at Heather's cleavage, firmly kept in place by her black bra.

It shouldn't have been enough. It was pathetic that it was. But as soon as I saw it, images of her naked flashed before me again, and I felt an immediate rise down below. Within seconds I was hard. Heather quickly buttoned up, and stared defiantly at me, hating me for making her have to expose herself again. I knew I would pay for making her do that.

I gritted my teeth and started to play with myself, gripping my cock and trying not to think about the camera staring lewdly between my legs. As a guy who couldn't even use a urinal if there was anyone else around, this was humiliation on a whole other level.

I closed my eyes and tried to be somewhere else, while pumping up and down on my hard cock. The sooner I got this other with, the sooner I gave Heather her final humiliation, I could leave. I picked up the pace, jerking myself off furiously.

I knew this was what she wanted, for our audience to see me as some kind of horny animal, but what could I do? In my mind's eye I saw once again the nude Heather -- not the vicious domineering Heather I now knew her to be, but the Heather of my fantasies, whose stunning ass and pink nipples I had tossed myself off to countless times in the past month. I felt the pressure build.

"Unghhh!" I grunted, as I spurted onto my chest. There were a few blissful seconds where everything blocked out and I was alone in my ecstasy, but when it was over, I was left covered in my own cum, being watched with a look of revulsion and disgust by Heather.

I lay there in silence for a moment, breathing hard. The comments were still coming in but I barely even registered them anymore. Eventually Heather broke the silence.

"Pathetic. You couldn't even last five minutes." I stared over at her in disbelief. "It seems you haven't quite learned your lesson. Even after I have tried to make you experience the humiliation you subjected me to, apparently all I've done is aroused you. You are disgusting."

"What? No! I just-"

"Shut up." Another a simple command, spoken quietly but filled with venom. For the first time she looked genuinely angry. "Lift up your legs."

"No." This was too much. She had humiliated and broken me for the whole internet to see, but no more -- I had to draw a line. "Y-you have to let me go."

"Have to? Is there something about your situation which confuses you? I will destroy you if you say no to me again!" We stared at each for a few seconds. "What's your name?"

"P... Paul. Paul Johnson," I made up, a little too slowly. It only just hit me that after all this she still didn't even know my name. I guess she thought she didn't need to.

"Oh really?" She grabbed my discarded jeans and pulled out my wallet. Great. "According to this your name is Peter. Is that right?"

"...Yes."

"So you lied to me?" I didn't answer. I flinched as she strode over to my head and grabbed me by the cheeks, forcing me to look up at her. "Here's the deal Peter. You do exactly as I say, or I say your full name out loud so that my followers can find you on Facebook, find your friends list, and send a link to this live feed to everyone you know."

The full horror of her words hit me immediately. The thought of complete strangers seeing me degraded and naked was one thing, but people I knew? Friends? Family?

"No," I whispered, without meaning to.

"Lift up your legs," she repeated. There was no choice. I was hers now. I lifted both legs dutifully into the air while Heather pulled something out of her bag. When my feet were suspended in the air above me, she grabbed my right ankle and pulled it all the way back over my head, brought up my unresisting right arm and bound my ankle to my wrist using the duct tape she had just produced. Then she did the same to my left leg.

It was hard to imagine a more humiliating position to be in. I was still on my back, but my arms and legs were both held in the air, fastened to each other over my head. It meant that my legs were forced wide apart, leaving no trace of modesty whatsoever. No matter how I struggled to reposition myself, my cheeks were being pulled wide apart by my position, clearly exposing my asshole to the webcam. I tried not to think about it.

Unfortunately Heather had other ideas. She grabbed a stool and placed it next my head, before grabbing her laptop and placing it on it, where I couldn't ignore it.

"I thought you my like to see what our audience is seeing," she said coolly. Sure enough the screen contained the video feed from the webcam, zoomed into me. It was surreal seeing myself from that position -- naked, panicked, on my back with legs forcibly splayed wide open. I looked truly pathetic. Heather pressed something on the webcam, and it zoomed in -- filling the screen with my balls, scrotum and asshole. I tried squirming but it seemed to just draw attention to the obscenity of the whole thing -- the way my balls moved around, the way my asshole twitched.

"Please," I begged. All I could think of was someone I knew seeing this. It would destroy me. "Don't... Turn it off."

"No."

"What do you want from me?!" Frustration was building up now.

"I want to be satisfied that you fully understand what it feels like to be degraded like I was. I want you to suffer, like countless thousands of women have suffered under the sexual lusts of men." I didn't know what to say to that. Heather made a noise of derision and walked off out of sight, somewhere behind my head. "Keep looking at the screen Peter."

I tried doing as she asked, but I couldn't force myself to keep looking at the image of my own obscenely displayed asshole. How many people were seeing this, I wondered dejectedly.

When Heather returned though, I was treated to a sight far worse than anything on the screen. She was holding a dildo. Not the same one she had taunted me with earlier on -- it was a little thinner, a little longer, and jet black -- but unmistakably a dildo. Maybe eight inches long. She was casually covering it with some sort of baby oil. Somehow I doubted that it was for her.

"I ordered this just for you Peter, I know how much you like them."

"Hey -- n-no, what is that?" She didn't acknowledge me. "W-wait, what are you doing?" She threw the bottle of oil away and strolled around to the end of the table. My increasingly dread-filled protests went completely ignored as she brought the thing to my totally bared anus. "Stop. Stop! Don't!"

I visibly jumped as I felt its rubbery touch against me. Apparently oblivious to my thrashing, she pushed it into my ass. The sensation was unlike anything I had experienced before as the invader stretched open my anal ring. Resistance was impossible -- my restraints meant that my legs and ass cheeks couldn't have been spread more widely if I had wanted this inside me. I clenched my teeth and tried to relax as my anus suddenly gave way and the dildo plunged inside me.

"Arrrghhh!" I groaned, which at least blocked out now the constant stream of beeps coming in. Heather calmly continued to force her toy into my asshole until fully three quarters of the dildo had slid inside me, stretching me wide open.

"How does that feel Peter?" she asked chirpily, as though she were helping me try on a new pair of shoes.

"Fuck you!" I shouted without thinking. I didn't look at her. I was staring at the laptop screen, at the image of the dido sticking lewdly out of my gaping asshole, stretching it open for all the world to see. I knew she would make me pay for that but while my anger lasted I might as well make the most of it. "I never did this to you! All I did was watch you naked for a few seconds! I never tied you up naked! I never made you strip for a bunch of strangers! I never rammed a dildo in your ass!"

I cut my rant short when I glanced over at her. Something had changed -- she was shaking with rage now, and her red face betrayed a loss of composure that she hadn't shown before. I had gone too far.

"You want to violate 'my ass?'" she spat.

"N-no. I didn't mean..."

"You want to violate my ass?" She was stood by my head now, opposite the laptop. An eerie, indescribable change had come over her. She was ignoring the webcam fully for the first time, her attention solely fixed on the object of her hatred before her. I could see a moment's indecision flicker in her cold blue eyes, before seeming to come to a decision. She grabbed my discarded shirt and threw it over the webcam, obscuring its view. Then, glaring at me intensely, she reached under her skirt and, to my utter confusion and disbelief, pulled down her black lace panties and threw them aside. "Then be my guest Peter."

Before I knew what was happening, she brought her leg over my head, almost knocking the stool over, and lifted her skirt, before lowering onto my face.

I was transfixed, staring in disbelief at the sight of Heather's pussy lowering onto me. I barely had time to take in the view -- the light coloured pubic hair, the gorgeous pink lips -- before my view was blocked entirely as she smothered my face.

All my senses were overwhelmed. The scent of her most intimate area was intoxicating, and my view was filled with those same tight buttocks I had watched from a distance for so long. Her powerful, bare thighs pushed against my cheeks. I almost lost myself in it and forgot about my desperate situation.

Heather quickly readjusted herself though. She shifted back so that her ass cheeks covered my face, then brought her hands around to spread her cheeks open. Before I could catch a breath, she smothered me completely.

"Lick it," she said, though what sounded like gritted teeth. I tried to struggle free, to get some air, but she was grinding her weight against me now, burying my face between her ass cheeks and pressing my head painfully against the table. "Lick it!"

I couldn't muster a single coherent thought. Desperate to be free, I explored the contours of her buttocks until I found the rough bud of her asshole, and began dutifully lapping at it with my tongue. A rush of exhilaration at the feel of her tight anal opening against my tongue surged through me, briefly overwhelming my feelings of dejection and humiliation. When this still didn't secure my release, I drove my tongue as forcefully as I could into her demanding asshole. It was far too tight to penetrate very deeply.

This seemed only to encourage Heather. She ground into me harder and harder, dragging her asshole and pussy over and over my face, until I began to go dizzy from lack of air.

"Ahh!" Heather had been thrown forward. Out of reflex I had jerked my head forward before I passed out, dismounting her. She tried to avoid her face falling into contact with my dick, and lost her balance in the process, falling to the floor. I ignored her, and gasped for breath.

"You -- you arrogant piece of filth!" She was on her feet again. Her hair was slightly dishevelled, and she was shaking. I stared at her, unable to speak while I tried to get my breath. She stormed over to her bag, knocking my shirt off the chair-mounted webcam, and emptied it onto my bare chest. It was another dildo, mounted onto some sort of strap.

Hands still shaking, she forced the base of the dildo over my mouth, so that it was pointing upward, and strapped it in place around my head.

She either hadn't noticed that the webcam was once again transmitting the whole scene to her followers, or she no longer cared about anything but humiliating me further. She pulled down her skirt with such ferocity that I didn't even dare to look at her now very naked vagina, and climbed onto the table with her back to me and her knees either side of my head. The dildo protruding from my face was pointing directly between her legs -- I stared up in genuine disbelief at the exposed pink vulva of my tormenter displayed so obscenely above me, as she lowered onto my face again. She slowed as the dildo reached the entrance to her slit, and sank back onto it.

She seemed almost to forget that I, or the camera for that matter, was even there. With the skirt gone, I was offered the full view of those gorgeous taut buttocks. As she slowly raised herself up, her pussy opened up right in front of me before she sank back down. Oblivious in her rage, she began riding my face faster and faster.

I became almost hypnotised by the motion of her ass as she raped my face -- as her pace quickened she stopped thrusting up and down and started frantically humping instead. She soon began to sweat -- her ass glistened and her shirt clung transparently to her body as I looked up. She was practically naked.

She was breathing heavily now, her breaths escaping as small gasps and moans. She suddenly gave a frustrated yelp, and leant forward over my torso.

"You thought you... could spy... on me?" she said, between breaths. I felt her grab the dildo still half-buried in my ass. I was barely even listening to her. Now that she was leant forwards her cheeks were spread apart, her most private of areas was bared before me as I watched the puckered bud of her naked asshole rise and fall with every frenzied thrust of her hips. "You thought you could violate... and rape me... with your eyes?"