เข้าสู่ระบบNICHOLAS’ POV. Marshall’s cock was incredibly huge. Like… it was the biggest dick I’ve ever seen my whole life—on the screen while watching porn or physically. And no doubt it was easily ten inches. Damn. It was long and thick, so dark it was almost black against his palm, the shaft thick enough that his fingers couldn't fully close around it. The head was swollen and glistening under the water, flared and pink, the slit already wet. Thick veins ran along the monster length like cords under the skin, pulsing faintly with every slow stroke. His fist glided over it in restrained pulls, twisting gently at the top, dragging the foreskin down and then up again until the head emerged shiny and full. As his hand slid back down his cock, the weight made the whole length sway. It looked like something carved for sin or built to ruin someone.I couldn't look away.Then an idea struck me so hard it almost knocked me over.Leverage.He had my mother's number. He had my secret. And now, rig
NICHOLAS’ POV. The washing machine rattled against the wall as I dumped another load of towels into it and slammed the lid harder than necessary. Two days. That was how long it had been since Marshall walked into my room and turned my whole life upside down. And for two days, I had been his personal maid. I scrubbed the kitchen until the countertops squeaked, mopped the hallway until the floorboards shone, scraped his crusted egg pan until my wrists ached, and took out the trash before he even woke up. Every time I passed him in the hallway, he looked at me with that accomplished satisfied smirk, like a landlord inspecting his property, and said absolutely nothing. Nothing about the stream. Nothing about my mother. Nothing about what he had done to me—how he had sat two feet away and made me finger myself, made me beg, and made me cum so hard I screamed. And I hadn't opened my account since. Not once. The app was on my phone like a loaded grenade. Every time my thumb hovered
NICHOLAS’ POV. “Yes, D-daddy—” The words rolled out of my mouth before I could think of stopping it. “Now, you're calling me Daddy, huh?” He grinned, his tone dark and amused.“No… I…” He cut me off. “I think you need to beg me more, slut.” My throat closed up."Beg for what?" I whispered."To cum." Marshall leaned back in the chair, spreading his knees wider, like a king who had just been handed a new toy. "Beg me to let you cum. Two thousand dollars is waiting on it. Or have you suddenly stopped needing money?"I hated him. I hated him so much my teeth ached. And my cock was rock-hard against my stomach, leaking onto my skin, a clear string already connecting the flushed head to my abs, as if it hadn't heard a single word of that hatred."Please," I forced out."Please what?""Please let me cum."He tilted his head. "Who are you asking?"The words got stuck. My lips trembled. On the screen, the chat was a waterfall of crying emojis and capital letters."…You," I breathed. "Pleas
NICHOLAS’ POV. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Are you insane?" My voice cracked into a desperate whisper that sounded pathetic even to my own ears. "You want me to… with you sitting right there? Watching me?" "You heard me." There was no joke in it. No hesitation. It was the voice of a man holding a loaded gun who knew he would never have to pull the trigger to win. "Lie back. Spread your legs. Finish the show." "No." Something hot and defensive flared up in my chest. I hauled the blanket higher and glared at him with every ounce of hatred I owned. "No way. I'm not doing this with you in the room. You're a pervert, Marshall. I'm not your little puppet." Before I could even finish the sentence, he moved. He stood, grabbed the chair by its backrest, and dragged it forward with a sharp screech across the floorboards until the front legs nearly touched the mattress. Then he sat back down and leaned in, his forearms resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped. His broad
NICHOLAS’ POV. For a few seconds, all I could hear was my own heartbeat slamming against my ribs as I sat there in the middle of the bed with the blanket bunched against my chest, the lube already turning tacky between my thighs, my hole still slick and twitching from my own finger. The mask was hot against my skin as sweat continued to gather at the edge of it and slid down my temple.Then I scraped together every bit of courage left in my body, shoved the humiliation somewhere deep down, and forced the terror back into my stomach where it belonged."Get out," I said. My voice shook, so I said it again, louder. "Get the fuck out of my room, Marshall."He didn't move.He stood in the doorway with his hand still curled around the knob, his broad chest rising and falling, his dark eyes fixed on me like I was a stain he had just discovered on his favorite shirt. The laptop glow carved shadows into the ridges of his stomach. He smelled like soap, sleep and something warmer underneath, a
NICHOLAS’ POV. My thumb rolled over the tip of my cock, smearing the precum that had already pooled at the slit and dragging it down the swollen head until it glistened. "Hmmm… oh, yesssss—" The moan slipped out before I could bite it back. Heat shot up my spine and settled in my belly, the kind that made my thighs tremble. My bedroom was pitch-black except for the pale glow of the laptop at the foot of the bed and the tiny red light of the phone propped on its stand, pointed straight at me. My briefs were somewhere on the carpet. The red eye mask, snugged across the top half of my face, the elastic tight behind my ears. That was the one rule I never broke. No matter how much they tipped, no matter how badly they begged, nobody ever got to see my real face. I wrapped my fingers around my shaft and stroked slowly, letting them watch every inch. The lube made a soft, wet sound in the quiet room, and the familiar rush of adrenaline crawled under my skin. This was the part of my







