IT support

Max was screaming in his apartment. What was that? Who was writing in the chat under his name? The sentence structure wasn’t his; the tone was too crude—and yet close enough to “punishment” that Silke would believe him. How could this have gone so wrong? The camera was professional; the link was a conferencing tool; someone was sitting in the same session and calling himself Peter. Of course, she wasn’t answering her cell phone anymore. The chat had blocked her from using the phone, and all he could do was watch. He was frustrated. He was angry. Damn it. But the truth was also that he could see how wet Silke was. The truth was that her nipples were hard in the LED light. The truth was that his cock was hard, too, while a stranger’s message undressed her.

The doorknob turned.

Manfred walked in.

Silke looked at the man. Mid-forties. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know many people anyway, because she was always alone on Fridays. She was still wondering how he’d gotten in. How did Peter know where she worked? The thought got stuck in her head. There was no time left for that.

The man stated his request without beating around the bush.

“I’d like a blowjob. And I want you to swallow.”

Okay, Silke thought. That wasn’t too bad. Who was he, I wonder? What was his connection to Peter? A coworker. A test. A man Peter had specifically arranged to come, exactly as it said in the chat. Whatever. She wouldn’t let Peter down.

She crawled toward him like a cat.

Her knees on the linoleum. Her bare ass up in the air. Her pussy open to the camera, wet, visible, as she slid across the floor. Her tits hung forward. Her garter belts ran up her thighs. Her boots creaked softly. Manfred stopped at the door, as if he’d ordered it this way and yet hadn’t expected it.

Silke unzipped his pants.

The belt. The button. The zipper. She pulled his pants and underwear down together. A semi-erect cock emerged. It wasn’t very big yet. Definitely a blood-filled cock, she thought. It’ll get even bigger. She took it into her mouth before he could think.

The cock was pleasantly clean.

She tasted soap. He must have been to the bathroom beforehand. Inside, she thanked him for it. Outwardly, she thanked him too, with a little sound around the glans, with a glance upward that looked like politeness but was obedience.

She put on a show for him.

Lots of saliva. Eye contact. Her mouth slid up and down, slowly at first, then more firmly, her tongue flat against the underside. It grew harder, longer, filling her lips. Silke moved her head in rhythm, letting saliva run down the shaft, taking it deeper until her nose was almost at her stomach, and pausing for a heartbeat before sliding back up.

Then she remembered the camera.

Peter was supposed to see everything.

She turned toward the table with Manfred, his cock still in her mouth, her knees on the floor, her ass to the side, until the lens captured her mouth, his shaft, and her bare hip. The LED light was merciless. The camera zoomed right in. Someone on the other end brought the head of his cock close, the wet lips, the string of saliva.

Silke licked.

She sucked.

She massaged his balls with her free hand, gently, in the same rhythm as her mouth. It was a truly beautiful blowjob—one you couldn’t buy or force for any amount of money, because she didn’t see it as a reward but as a mission. She took her time. She deliberately prolonged the moment. Peter should be proud. Peter should see that the punishment had taken effect and that she was still delivering.

Manfred was breathing heavily.

His hands stayed at his sides at first, then one moved uncertainly through her hair, not firmly. Silke took him deeper, slurping deliberately for the microphone, looking into the lens as if Peter were sitting behind the zoom, and sucked until her cheeks hollowed out.

Then he came.

Without a big spurt. A twitch—warm, salty, a lot all at once. Silke kept him in her mouth and swallowed it all. One wave. Then another. The rest on the head of his cock, clean, without a drop dripping onto her chin. At the end, she gave his cock one more kiss. Then she stuck out her tongue so he could see her mouth was empty. She repeated the same gesture toward the camera. Open. Empty. For Peter.

Manfred got dressed.

He left without a word. No thanks. No name.

Silke knelt in front of the computer.

Her tits glowed in the light. Her pussy was wet, her heels close behind. The taste lingered in her mouth. The camera was still trained on her. She sat down on her heels as ordered, her back straight, her hands on her thighs, and waited for new instructions.

The same image remained on Max’s screen.

He couldn’t type. He could only watch as she sucked off a man he hadn’t ordered to come, and then sat down like a good slave. His cock was still hard. So was his anger. The chat remained silent until the next line appeared, again in his name.