Back to Me

I chuckle to myself as I strip down the equipment, thinking of the faces of those people who just joined that meeting. As much as I'm enjoying playing these games in this way, I do envy the way it must have felt to Sarah, Jessie and all the rest in the old days, when they had the opportunity to watch me and others at their most embarrassed and humiliated in the first person.

Nobody has been in this old warehouse for years, as far as I can tell. The air is thick with dust and most of the windows in the sloping roof are broken. As I crush the SIM cards and pack the dummy back into his duffel bag I think about Jessie.

I need to find a way of watching the aftermath of these games. I’d love to see Jessie as she comes to, trying to explain what just happened. I imagine the faces of the people who come to free her from the game, and I imagine the smell in the room after her screaming orgasm. But for now, I’ll leave no trace. Not until I’m ready.

My laptop finishes copying the video of this latest game onto the zip drive, which I remove and slip into the duffel with the dummy.

I wonder if Jessie will ever piece this together. I decide that no, she probably won’t. She was always self-obsessed, even back then. I doubt she even remembers my name. She probably remembers the things she and her friends did, and I wonder what she thinks of those times. Does she think of it and smile, or does she feel a deep embarrassment?

Well, whatever. She feels a deep sense of embarrassment now. And I’m pretty sure she’ll be chasing that feeling for the rest of her life. Like I said, people share so much of themselves online. Too much for their own good.

I leave through the back door of the warehouse and pull my hood over my head against the rain. I like that I can run something like this game with equipment which fits into a bag over my shoulder. In a few minutes I’m walking along the main road, occasionally dropping a broken mobile phone or smashed SIM card into a drain or a waste bin. Leave no trace.

An hour later, I’m back home. I’ve dropped off the bag and collected my keys at a storage unit owned by one of my companies. That dummy is probably one of the riskiest things I have, much more than the laptop and cameras. That would be pretty hard to explain if anybody found it, but I have to admit that I like the theatre of it. As the games progress, and inevitably start to gain more attention, it might be that the police start to look into all of this. Jessie will probably have to talk to the police. Sarah was almost certainly taken in for an interview. But with these fucking self-absorbed idiots, I’ll hopefully be finished with the games before anybody works out what’s going on.

I check my phone as I make a drink for myself. Answer a couple of emails, listen to a voicemail. Nothing urgent. I picture Jessie’s face, breathing around the dildo as she started to cum, the look in her eyes when she realised she was going to be caught, and it makes me feel pretty horny.

Upstairs I stand in front of the full-length mirror and slip my hand inside my waistband. I decide to strip all of my clothes off and watch myself masturbate. I know, and I shake my head, I can’t cum without feeling like I’m being watched. It’s not quite the same if I’m only watching myself, but it’s okay. It works. And just like Jessie will never forget what I did to her this morning, I know that I can’t ever forget what they did to me. That’s why I love to be watched, and I hate to be seen.

With my clothes on the bed behind me I tug on the ring through my left nipple. It hurts. It feels good. I turn to the side to look over the tattoos covering the right side of my torso. All memories, all ways I tried to cope before I started playing my games.

I hold both hands over my groin, the way I used to when I tried to cover myself. I remember fearing that moment when my arms would be pulled to the side and I would be exposed to them. I think about Jessie, then and now, and as I watch myself in the mirror I move my own arms to the side and survey my exposed body.