Perform for Me
Copyright© 2025 by Ashley Camaron
Chapter 16: Fractured Resolve
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 16: Fractured Resolve - Teenage hacker Sam spies on his neighbors' most explicit secrets. But when the manipulative Madison catches him, she doesn't want silence—she wants a show. Now, he's the one on camera, forced to obey her explicit commands and act out her most degrading fantasies. It's a twisted game of psychological torture, and if he doesn't perform, she will burn his entire world to the ground.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa NonConsensual Heterosexual Fiction Crime Anal Sex Facial Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Voyeurism
Sam tossed his phone onto his bed, watching it bounce once before settling among the rumpled sheets. The screenshot lingered in his mind like a ghost, a frozen snapshot of what should have been a private, genuine moment with Lila. But nothing was private anymore—not with Madison pulling the strings. He collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, head in his hands, the weight of the day crashing down on him.
How had it come to this? It started with good intentions—hacking the feeds to protect Emily from her sleazy boyfriend, Jake. But that justification felt hollow now, eroded by months of secret indulgences. He’d rationalized every peek, every late-night session glued to the screen, telling himself it was just curiosity. Now, it was a noose around his neck, and Madison was tightening it with every text.
His phone buzzed again, vibrating insistently. He debated ignoring it, but the fear won out. It was Madison, of course.
Madison: Disappointed in you, spy boy. I gave you a simple task, and you folded like a cheap lawn chair. Lila’s sweet, but she’s holding you back. Want another chance?
Attached was a short video clip—from Lila’s basement feed, naturally. It showed the moment he’d suggested anal, Lila’s face shifting from curiosity to gentle rejection. The audio was crystal clear: “Sam, this isn’t a porno. Slow down.” Madison had edited in fake moans and a laughing emoji overlay, turning his humiliation into her entertainment.
Sam’s fingers tightened around the phone, his knuckles white. She’s everywhere, he thought, a chill running down his spine. How long had she been watching? Did she have access to more than just the feeds he’d hacked? The paranoia gnawed at him, making every shadow in his room feel like an eye.
He typed back, his thumbs shaking: What do you want from me? Just leave Lila out of this.
Her reply was swift: Lila’s already in it, thanks to you. But fine—let’s make it about you. Tomorrow, after school, come over. Alone. We’ll have a little chat. And bring that curiosity I know you’ve got buried deep down. 😘
Sam’s heart raced. Going to her house? Refusing meant escalation—more screenshots, maybe sent to Lila or his parents. He could picture the fallout: Lila’s hurt expression, her trust shattered; his mom’s disappointed sigh as she learned her “good boy” was a pervert. No, he had to play along, at least long enough to find a way out.
The rest of the evening blurred into restless anxiety. He tried distracting himself with homework, but his mind kept drifting back to Lila’s words: “It’s about connecting.” She was right— what they had was real, fragile, and worth protecting. But Madison was poisoning it, turning every intimate moment into leverage.
That night, sleep came in fits and starts. Dreams mixed with memories: Lila’s laughter echoing in the basement, overlaid with Madison’s taunting moans from the feed. He woke in a cold sweat, checking his phone instinctively. No new messages, but the silence felt ominous, like the calm before a storm.
By morning, resolve hardened in his chest. He’d go to Madison’s, hear her out, and find a weakness—some way to turn the tables. But as he headed to school, the darker part of him whispered doubts. What if she offered more than threats? What if that “curiosity” she mentioned pulled him deeper into her web? Sam shoved the thought away, but it lingered, a shadow he couldn’t fully escape.
Sam’s footsteps echoed on the pavement as he walked to Madison’s house after school, each one feeling like a step toward the edge of a cliff. The neighborhood was quiet, kids playing in distant yards and cars humming by, oblivious to the storm raging inside him. He’d skipped school, feigning a headache to the nurse, but the real ache was the knot of dread in his gut. This is a bad idea, he told himself for the hundredth time. But what choice did he have? Madison held all the cards—the feeds, the screenshots, his secrets. Ignoring her would only make things worse.
Her front door was unlocked when he arrived, as if she’d been expecting him right on time. He pushed it open cautiously, the cool air conditioning hitting him like a wall. The house smelled of fresh coffee and something floral, her perfume lingering in the air. “In here, spy boy,” her voice called from the living room, smooth and inviting, like honey laced with venom.