Max's Perspective – The End That Wasn't

Max was sitting at his new desk in his new apartment. The furniture wasn’t quite set up yet, but the external hard drive containing all his recordings was already within reach beside him.

He’d messaged Silke using the untraceable internet number. Short and to the point:

“I’m sorry.

That thing with the movers… I didn’t mean for that to happen. It was never part of the plan.

I didn’t want to drag you into something like that.”

It took almost two hours for her to reply.

Silke

Is it over now?

And… will you ever reveal your identity?

Max leaned back and read the message several times. She sounded tired. And cautious. He could sense that she already had a hunch. Probably a pretty good one, too. But she couldn’t prove it. And she knew that, too.

He typed slowly.

Max

Do you want it to end?

Again, it took a long time for her to reply. This time, the message was shorter.

Silke

So is it over?

Max smiled slightly. He wrote without hesitation:

Max

Well… three movers have a complete set of photos of you. Including your home address. I don’t know what they’ll do with them.

I could try to protect you. But realistically… a few pictures of you will probably end up online. And as beautiful as you are… they’ll probably go viral, too.

Then it went quiet.

For over an hour, there was no reply. Max had almost expected her to run away for good by now. That she’d block him, delete him, or call the police.

Instead, after almost an hour and a half, a video arrived.

It was short. Maybe 25 seconds.

Silke was lying on her back in her own bed. The camera was probably mounted on a tripod or placed on the nightstand. She had her legs slightly spread and was slowly fingering herself with two fingers. You could clearly hear how wet she was. Her breathing grew faster and faster until she suddenly threw her head back and came loudly, shakily, and uninhibitedly.

The video ended with a soft, exhausted moan.

Right after that, the message came:

Silke

The thought of having been used like that without Jonas knowing… makes me come over and over again.

My nipples and my clit are sore…

I don’t want it to stop.

Max stared at the message.

He’d expected her to be scared. That she’d be angry. That she’d beg him to delete everything and leave her alone.

Instead, she wanted more.

He leaned back and slowly rubbed his mouth. A dark, satisfied grin spread across his face.

She had truly arrived now.

No longer just curious. No longer just aroused.

But addicted.

Max picked up his phone and wrote her one last message for today:

Max

Good.

Then it’s not over.

But from now on, things will be different.

You belong to me. Not to Jonas anymore.

He sent the message and put his phone away.

Then he opened the folder with the latest pictures from the movers and slowly scrolled through the photos of Silke—bound, marked, used.