Perform for Me
Copyright© 2025 by Ashley Camaron
Chapter 8: Neighborhood Secrets
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 8: Neighborhood Secrets - 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 slumped in his chair, the afterglow of his forced climax souring into a thick sludge of self-loathing. His hand was sticky, his shirt stained, and the empty feed from Madison’s office mocked him from the screen—a silent reminder of how thoroughly she’d invaded his world. She’s everywhere now, he thought, wiping himself clean with a wad of tissues, his cheeks burning. The USB drive sat untouched on his desk, its contents a Pandora’s box he wasn’t ready to open. Not yet.
He minimized Madison’s feed and pulled up Emily’s again, his heart clenching at the sight of her empty room. The house was dim, no signs of disturbance—which brought a fleeting sense of relief. At least she’s safe for now, he told himself, the lie as flimsy as ever. I’m just watching to protect her. But the rationalization rang hollow after what he’d just done—jerking off for Madison while Emily’s nightmare played out next door.
His phone buzzed, jolting him. A new message from Madison: Good boy. Be ready—tomorrow we play for real. Attached was a screenshot from his own room’s camera, capturing him mid-climax, face contorted in reluctant ecstasy. Sam’s stomach dropped, bile rising. She was toying with him, dangling proof of his submission like a noose. He deleted it immediately, but the damage was done—his privacy shattered, his free will eroding.
Desperate for distraction, Sam’s gaze drifted to the grid of new icons on his dashboard—the other neighbors’ systems, unlocked thanks to Madison’s “nudges” and his own hacking prowess. He’d resisted so far, fixated on Emily and now ensnared by Madison, but curiosity burned like an itch he couldn’t ignore. Just a peek, he rationalized. To see what else is out there. Maybe it’ll help ... somehow. His finger hovered over one labeled “Vargas Residence”—Elena Vargas, the fiery Latina divorcee who’d moved in last year, always turning heads with her curves and confident strut. Harmless, right?
He clicked it. The feed loaded a master bedroom, softly lit by bedside lamps. Elena was there, alone, fresh from a shower—her caramel skin glistening, a towel wrapped loosely around her voluptuous body, dark hair cascading in wet waves down her back. She was in her mid-30s, with an hourglass figure that made Sam’s mouth go dry: full, heavy breasts straining against the towel, wide hips, and long legs that ended in painted toes. She dropped the towel without ceremony, revealing everything—the neat landing strip of pubic hair, her ass round and firm, nipples dark and already hardening in the cool air.
Sam’s cock stirred again, traitorous despite his exhaustion. This is wrong, he thought, but he didn’t close the feed. Elena sauntered to her bed, her movements graceful and unhurried, as if performing for an invisible audience. She grabbed a tablet from her nightstand, propping it up against the pillows before lying back and spreading her legs wide. With a few taps, she pulled up a video—lesbian porn, the screen filling with two women entangled in a passionate 69, their moans spilling from the speakers as tongues flicked and fingers delved into slick folds. Elena’s eyes locked on the scene, her breath quickening as one woman squirted onto the other’s face, the explicit sounds fueling her own desire.
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