Perform for Me
Copyright© 2025 by Ashley Camaron
Chapter 4: Jake’s Visit
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4: Jake’s Visit - 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 sat at his desk, the glow of his monitors casting long shadows across the room. The single camera feed from next door felt like a tease now—a narrow window into a world he needed to see fully. Emily’s room. The hallway. The bathroom. If he was going to watch over her—really watch over her—he needed more eyes.
He cracked his knuckles and dove in. The neighbors’ security system was still a joke, its outdated firmware like a welcome mat for someone like him. He probed deeper this time, mapping out the network of cameras throughout the house. Kitchen. Living room. Master bedroom. And yes—the upstairs bathroom.
With a few custom scripts, he spoofed admin credentials and rerouted the feeds to his own server. No alerts triggered. No traces left. By the time he was done, he had a multi-view grid on his screen, each window a portal into their lives.
He leaned back, satisfied.
The sink faucet turned on with a soft rush, pulling Sam’s attention. Emily stepped into frame, already stripped down to nothing, her reflection clear in the large mirror above the basin. She grabbed a soft washcloth from the counter, holding it under the warm stream. She pumped soap onto it—thick, creamy lather bubbling up with a subtle floral scent that mixed with the rising steam, faintly fogging the edges of thee camera.
Starting at her neck, she dragged the cloth in slow, circular strokes, the fabric gliding over her skin and leaving trails of suds that traced the curve of her collarbone. Water beaded and dripped between her breasts—full and perky, nipples tightening as the cool air contrasted with the warmth—before she brought the cloth lower, cupping each one gently, the soapy texture making her skin glisten under the bathroom lights.
Sam’s breath caught, his eyes fixed on the way the cloth molded to her body, the faint squelch of wet fabric against flesh as she worked downward. She rinsed the cloth under the faucet, the water turning milky with soap, then reapplied it to her stomach, scrubbing in firm lines that accentuated the subtle flex of her abs. Bending slightly, she parted her legs for better access, the cloth dipping between her thighs—gliding over her folds with careful, thorough passes, the suds foaming white against her trimmed curls before rinsing away in rivulets that trickled down her inner thighs.
She set the cloth aside, drying off with a quick pat of a towel, then reached for a small pair of grooming scissors and a hand mirror from the counter. Sitting on the edge of the closed toilet seat, she positioned the mirror between her spread legs, angling it to see clearly. Her fingers combed through the dark curls first, separating them with gentle tugs that made her skin flush. Then, with precise snips, she began trimming—short, careful clips that echoed softly in the room, stray hairs fluttering to the floor like confetti. The process exposed more of her smooth skin, her folds parting slightly with each adjustment, the pink inner lips glistening faintly from the residual moisture. She paused to blow away clippings, her breath warm against herself, before resuming, shaping the patch into a neat landing strip.
Sam leaned closer, pulse quickening at the intimacy of it—the way her body responded to her touch, the scissors’ metallic snick punctuating the quiet. It was mundane, yet profoundly erotic, a private ritual laid bare.
Emily finished with a final inspection in the mirror, running her fingers over the freshly trimmed area to check for evenness, before standing to rinse the scissors and sweep up the clippings. She wrapped herself in a towel and left the bathroom, oblivious to her unseen audience.
But the show wasn’t over.
Minutes later, her bedroom feed flickered to life. Emily had just dropped the towel when a shadow appeared at the window. Jake hauled himself inside, his grin sharp as he took in her naked form.
“Miss me?” he said, voice low and rough.
Emily didn’t smile back. “What are you doing here?”
Jake didn’t answer with words. He crossed the room in two strides, grabbing her waist and pulling her close. His mouth crashed against hers, hungry and demanding. Emily’s hands pushed at his chest for a split second—then fisted in his shirt, pulling him tighter.
Sam’s stomach twisted, but he couldn’t look away.
Jake broke the kiss, shoving her toward the bed. “On your knees.”
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