Author's Note:
Fair warning, while the central theme of this story is exhibitionism/voyeurism, it also contains strong elements of noncon femdom, more specifically blackmail. If that is not your bag, then you will probably not like this story. Otherwise, enjoy! As always, I am very grateful for any feedback you may have to offer. Like most authors here, I aim to please and can't improve my craft without your help. Note that this story has been submitted to the 2017 Nude Day Contest.
Disclaimer:
While this story depicts instances of noncon, it is for entertainment purposes only and is not meant to be an edorsement of such activity; outside the realm of fantasy, noncon is never okay. All characters depicted are 18+.
—LKN—
With a sigh, Alex pressed his card key into the designated slot and stepped into his hotel room. It was absolutely gorgeous, complete with a luxurious king-sized bed that was covered in rich, dark red sheets, almost certainly Egyptian cotton. There was a set of oil paintings above the bed—something abstract, but colorful—and a massive television mounted on the opposite wall. It had its own private bathroom, of course, with a whirlpool tub big enough to fit three people and another—admittedly, much smaller—television mounted above it. But its most impressive feature was a wall length window that spanned from floor to ceiling, situated on the far side of the room and with a perfect view of the Las Vegas Strip. One of the perks of working for Cyrine Computers was that they spared no expense when it came to their sales team. For the past three months, Alex had been their top seller and it showed in his accommodations, as well as his summer bonus.
It had been a long trip from New York to Nevada and even though he'd been able to enjoy it first class, Alex was exhausted. Throwing off his shoes at the door, he allowed himself to fall back into the mattress, as cozy and comfortable as he'd imagined it. It wouldn't do to waste away his evenings by tucking in early, but even a quick shower and an hour long nap would refresh him enough to hit the town. At the very least, he needed to get out of this stuffy suit—he'd really only worn it knowing there'd be clients on the plane, headed to the same conference. In his mind's eye, Alex envisioned himself hailing down a taxi, then hitting the most exclusive clubs on the strip, ordering bottle service and using the expensive liquor to attract young women to his table. What was the point of a night on the town if you didn't plan on getting laid? For the first time in his life, Alex finally had money to flaunt and he didn't intend to let an opportunity like a business trip to Las Vegas pass him by.
"I should probably call Myers and Johnson and solidify plans," Alex mused, reaching blindly for the night table and his cellphone. "Those two always get antsy when there's an empty slot in their schedules." It was just as he'd begun to dial that the phone started ringing in his hands, and Alex squinted at the number, trying to place it.
Probably just the front desk
, he mused, pressing the little answer icon.
They'll want to know if I need a wake-up call
.
"Ah, Mr. Bracker—I'm so glad I caught you before you decided to hit the town."
Alex didn't recognize the voice on the other end of the line, but is was light-hearted—even cheery, one might say—and it most definitely belonged to a woman; her voice was sickly sweet, like honey, and Alex could very nearly hear her smile, confident, but not unkind.
"May I ask who's calling?" Alex asked, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt. After all, he only had so much time to relax before Myers and Johnson would be banging on his door. "And how may I help you today?"
"So formal, Mr. Bracker, I like it...it's very you."
"I'm sorry, but are you sure you have the right number?" Alex asked, this time not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. "You realize this is a hotel room you're calling?"
"Yes, Alexander M. Bracker: Room 519 at the Lumberge Hotel."
Alex could swear he felt his heart stop.
"How...how do you know that? My full name? And where I'm staying?"
"Calm down, Mr. Bracker. I'm Devvie Kane from Cyrine Computers. In the IT Department."
"Jesus Christ, you scared me!" Alex laughed, and he sunk back into the bed with a sigh of relief, one hand still clutching his chest. "I thought I was being stalked!"
"Paranoid, are we?"
"I have an ex-wife and it was a messy divorce," Alex admitted with a shrug. "Now, how can I help you?"
"Actually, Mr. Bracker, I'm here to help you," Miss Kane replied, her voice eerily nonchalant. "I'm here to talk to you about your porn usage."
At first, Alex wasn't sure he'd heard her right, but then it sunk in and the most uncomfortable sensation he'd ever experienced began to wash over him. First the air left his lungs and in another instant, he could feel his heart begin to pound beneath his breast, slowly at first, then faster and faster and faster, until he thought it might burst from his chest. He couldn't move, let alone speak, and in the ensuing silence, Alex watched as the room began to spin.
"Mr. Bracker, are you still there?"
"My...my porn usage?" Alex choked, trying, in spite of himself, to sound calm, to steady the trembling of his hands. "I'm not sure I understand?"
"Oh, I think you do," Miss Kane replied, not a hint of doubt in her voice. "You do realize we install monitoring software on all company computers, right?"
"Give me a second, please..." Alex replied, for if he didn't get away, he thought he might throw up all over the bed. "Just give me second..."
"Certainly, Mr. Bracker, take your time; I'll be here when you're ready to talk."
Carefully, Alex set down the phone and then ran for the bathroom. He heaved into the sink a few times, but nothing came up. Still, even just having a few minutes to gather himself—to breathe deeply in and then out again—was enough to get the nausea under control. Afterwards, he poured himself a glass of water and popped a few lorazepam, which he'd started purchasing off the street after his latest promotion. It was with extreme reluctance that he picked up the phone again, but at least he didn't feel faint anymore.
"Be straight with me," Alex breathed, preparing himself for the worst. "Am I being fired?"
"Mr. Bracker, if you were being fired, do you really think someone from the IT Department—and not your boss—would be calling you?"
"So...so I'm not being fired?" Alex asked, suddenly feeling a renewed sense of hope, but it quickly dissipated as the only other alternative hit him. "Wait, are you...are you blackmailing me?"
"Very good, Mr. Bracker—I suppose you don't become the company's top sales associate by being an idiot."
"But...that's illegal!"
"Yes, it is."
"Alright, point taken: you don't care," Alex sighed, resting his head in his hands and wondering just how much this little mistake was going to cost him—but at least he still had his job and so long as he had that, he could always make more money. "What's your asking price?"
There was a pause then, uncomfortably long, and Miss Kane started laughing, first just a giggle here and there, then a full-on, hysterical fit. Furrowing his brow, Alex cursed into the phone and almost hurled the damn thing into the wall.
"I've got the message, alright?" he hissed, feeling both angry and humiliated at the same time. "I told you, I'm willing to pay. Can you stop gloating for a moment and just give me a number?"
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." Miss Kane laughed and Alex thought he could hear her wipe a tear from her eye and then a deep, calming sigh. "I'm just...you know, savoring the moment while it lasts."
"What, does this get you off?"
"Yes, actually, it does."
"Excuse me?"
"It gets me off," Miss Kane told him, her voice suddenly serious, and Alex could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. "To be frank, I don't want your money—I make almost twice as much as you do, but without the weekend hours."
"You do not!"
"Yes, I do," Miss Kane replied. "I protect the company's intellectual property from hackers and spurned software engineers—I'm the reason it still exists and I'm the reason you have a job worth fighting for."
The chill in her voice—calm, collected, decisive—left no room for doubt and once again, Alex felt himself grow cold. It wasn't like him to panic, even in high stress situations like this. He
was
a top sales associate and that meant he was also a good negotiator. But there was something oddly unsettling—frightening, even—about the woman on the phone. It made Alex nervous on an instinctual level, as if he were a mouse and she were a bird of prey. If he had learned anything from his years in business, is was that powerful, high-risk clients will walk all over you if you string them along for too long. Alex needed to settle this issue and he needed to do it quickly.
"So what
do
you want then?" Alex asked, trying not to let his fear get the better of him. "Surely, we can work something out? Can't we?"
"We're in Vegas, aren't we? Why don't you give me a little show?"
"A show?" Alex asked, genuinely surprised. "You want me to take you out to dinner and a show?"
"Heavens, no!" Miss Kane laughed. "Oh god, what a riot you are, Mr. Bracker...go over to the window." But still feeling rather bewildered, Alex did not move. "That was an order, Mr. Bracker, not a request," Miss Kane told him, more firmly this time. "Go to the window."
"Alright."
Alex stepped up to the window and looked down below. It was late in the evening—ten and on a weekday, too—but the strip was already lively, packed with tourists, and street performers, and shady characters passing out coupons for strip clubs. Every building was covered in bright, blinking lights in pastel colors—beautiful pinks, and blues, and greens—chaotic and yet, all seeming to make sense. Music blared from the street below and even way up on the fifth floor, Alex could feel it pumping furiously beneath his feet.
"Very good, Mr. Bracker," Miss Kane praised, sounding quite pleased, and that, at least, brought Alex some semblance of relief. "Now, take a seat." Confused, but compliant now, Alex seated himself on the edge of the bed, but Miss Kane only tsked into the phone. "No, not on the bed—pull up the blue armchair, so that it's facing the window, and have a seat."
Alex was just about to do so when an eerie, horrifying realization hit him.
"Oh my god, are you watching me?" Alex hissed into the phone, unable to hide his incredulity. "Did you sneak...
surveillance
...into my room?"
"What do you think, Mr. Bracker?"
Anxiously, Alex began to scan the walls, searching for hidden cameras, but this was not his area of expertise. He wasn't sure what to look for or where to begin, he only knew that now, anything and everything in his room could be watching him. The hotel—which had felt so safe and secure just moments before—now felt like a deadly trap and all the fancy amenities—the radio hub, the sound bar below the TV, even the oil paintings above the bed—made him suspicious. Slowly, Alex backed himself into a corner, his eyes scouring every surface for the small, dark lenses that were undoubtedly following him.
"Oh, relax, Mr. Bracker," Miss Kane sighed. "I'd never go through that much trouble for a strip tease. Why don't you look across the way and tell me what you see? Go on."
Hesitantly, Alex headed back toward the window. Directly across the strip was a hotel even larger than the Lumberge and towering so high above the street, it had its own aircraft warning lights. Hundreds upon hundreds of glassy blue windows—all facing his direction—shone and shimmered in the Las Vegas lights, giving them a mysterious air and cursing, Alex realized just how Miss Kane must be watching him. Frantically, he searched its silvery surface for any hint of a disturbance—a face, a light, a fluttering curtain—but there were far too many windows and at this distance, he couldn't see past any of them. And yet, if there weren't any cameras hidden in his room, then this was the only explanation: Miss Kane was watching him from the comfort of a hotel room just across the street, probably with binoculars.
"Have you figured it out yet, Mr. Bracker?"
"What do you
want from me?
Why are you
watching me?
