Chapter 2

Iris

 Masked Muse. 

The username was clear as day, along with the teaser image of my masked face and bare shoulders, save for the faint hint of lace right where my chest was cut off. 'A little teaser for what came next’ I'd called it back when I'd uploaded the photo.

It was visible. The notification for tonight’s stream still glowed at the top.

Oh God.

Heat flooded my cheeks. I dropped to my knees, snatching the phone and clutching it against my chest as if that could erase it.

“I’m so sorry, P-Professor. That was…” I didn't have an answer. My voice was barely steady.

He said nothing, but his presence alone was imposing enough towering over me in the quiet hallway. I could feel the weight of his gaze on the top of my head, heavy and unreadable. 

Fuck it.

I pushed to my feet, keeping my head down. 

“Excuse me. Have a good day sir” I mumbled, adding the last part out of polite habit while I, in contrast, impolitely rushed past him.

My legs moved on autopilot, carrying me away as fast as I could without running. I didn't stop even as I left the building, ignoring the gazes I received. I only slowed at the campus fountain.

Cool evening air hit my heated skin. Sitting on the stone slabs, my hands were still shaking as I gripped my phone tight. My insides were burning from exertion, but the real fire was the shame scorching my face. 

He had seen it.

Professor Dmitri Sterling had seen my secret laid bare on that screen. The one thing I had kept hidden from everyone at Hawthorne. 

 

What if he reported me?

“He doesn't know. He probably thinks it's a random video channel.” I whispered to myself, only to snort at the thought. 

I would have deluded myself if not for the suggestive picture placed upfront and the notification clearly showing the site ‘Camgirlbeauties. com’.

Damn it.

Shutting my eyes tightly, I took in deep breaths.

It was alright. Through the campus he was also known for his calm detached demeanor, never responding to any flirtation made by students and lecturers alike. He was completely stuck in academia. 

He probably didn't even know what the site meant or what a cam girl was. He was too young, too accomplished to know about them. How old was he  again? 30? 

A shiver ran through me at the brief memory of his face and the hard toned body I'd collided with. He looked that mature, and not in a bad way.

“Stop it.” I shook my head. 

It didn't matter.  He hadn't looked at it for long. He didn't know what it was.

And he DEFINITELY didn't know it belonged to me.

Right?

…

I reached my dorm building as night fell. The moment I stepped inside the room, Jean, my roommate and best friend, looked up from her couch, her eyes bright with excitement.

 “You came back so early! Come on, spill. How was the surprise date? Did Caleb sweep you off your feet?”

I couldn't muster a smile. I dropped my bag on the floor and sank onto the space beside her, burying my face in my hands. 

“There was no date.” I said. When I looked back Jean was sitting up, her face turning serious. 

“Iris, what happened?”

I told her everything. The conversation I overheard outside the classroom. The bet, the truth of Caleb's pursuit, how he called me boring, prissy, easy once cracked and how he planned to collect five grand and humiliate me in the process. 

My voice stayed flat and cold throughout. My regard for him, just like my feelings, had iced over. Jean, however, looked ready to commit murder. From the couch, she began pacing  our shared common area. 

“That asshole.” she hissed, crossing the room and pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Iris. You deserve so much better than some spoiled frat boy. Forget him. You’re way too good for that nonsense.”

I hugged her back, grateful for her warmth. Jean was the only person who knew all my secrets, the only real friend I had in this cutthroat college. For the past three years, we had been each other's greatest support.

I wished I could bask in her comfort, but I wasn't done.

“There’s more,” I muttered, pulling away. Facing her, I shared the rest of the mortifying tale. Her expression simultaneously widened and paled as soon as I was done.

“Oh…Oh my God.” she said dumbly. I wasn't surprised by her reaction and nodded in solidarity. 

“I ran off immediately. I hope he didn’t really look at it. Or maybe he didn’t realize what it was. But hell, I don't know, what if he does?”

“Relax babe,” Jean waved her hand dismissively, though her cheeks had gone a little pink. “Professor Sterling is a sexy monk. He’s cold, private, and keeps to himself. I don't think he'll recognize anything that doesn't come with a bookmark. You’re safe.”

Her words reaffirmed mine, letting the doubt disappear.  I relaxed on the couch when she sidled in beside me.

“Still… damn.” She sighed dreamily, "Circumstance aside, up close he’s even finer, right? That jawline. Those eyes. I swear half the campus fantasizes about him teaching them private lessons. A damn shame he prefers boring books. A waste of a fine specimen I'd say.”

Heat flooded my cheeks at the reminder of those grey eyes right before the embarrassment began. The way they looked in that split second, cold, yet piercing right through me made heat rise between my legs.

A waste indeed.

I forcefully snapped myself out of it and stood up stretching. 

“I need to head in.” I gestured to my bedroom door, “to freshen up before…you know.” 

Jean understood immediately and winked.

“Good luck with the livestream tonight. Make that money, queen. I’ll put my headphones in so I don’t eavesdrop.”

“Thanks, Jean.” I smiled lightly, taking note of the time.

…

Hours after freshening up, I was ready.

My room was dark save for strategically placed neon lights with the curtain drawn for privacy. The dorm was quiet and the clock was past midnight. With my mask in place and the camera ready, I let the weight of the day settle. 

By day I was Iris Williams, the aloof, straight-A student and on paper I had everything. Brains, beauty, a scholarship and a clean respectable reputation in Hawthorne College. Nobody knew  how hard I truly fought to keep my life stable.

The Hawtorne scholarship was admittedly generous, covering for my tuition, accommodation and health through the entirety of my presence. What it didn't cover for however was everything else. Transportation, proper meals, mandatory student donations and even textbooks. And everything cost a fortune with even the cheapest of textbooks priced like a luxury item. 

Each expense left huge gaps that threatened to swallow me whole. But I'd found a way out.

And so at night, I became the Masked Muse, an anonymous camgirl.

 Thousands of viewers tuned in from behind their screens, paying to watch me tease and touch and lose myself in controlled pleasure.

It wasn’t ideal, but I'd since stopped caring. It kept me afloat. More importantly, it gave me power. To have people waiting on me, watching me, knowing they couldn't have me, gave me a thrill like nothing else. It was addicting and arousing beyond measure. My sole comfort when the rest of my life felt like survival.

But amongst the thousands of followers, there was one who I anticipated the most.

Adjusting the black lace mask over my eyes for a final time, I took a deep breath before pressing the button to start the livestream.

This was my stage, and it was showtime.

“Hey everyone,” I said, voice dropping into that sultry tone my regulars loved. “Your Muse missed you tonight.”

I started teasing. My fingers traced lazy circles over my mocha skin, sliding under the thin straps of my camisole, letting it slip off one shoulder. I arched my back, letting the camera catch the curve of my breasts as I ran my hands down my stomach. 

“You guys like that huh?” I smirked as a large donation popped up, “you naughty boys. I haven't even started yet.”

Slowly, I let my hand tease my lace thong, groaning at the wetness slipping below. Soft moans escaped my lips while I read the incoming messages, smiling at the usual flood of compliments and tips.

But something felt off.

Whilst teasing, I looked carefully through the seam of people watching. He wasn't there. 

DevotedDom hadn’t sent anything. No message. No massive tip like he usually did within the first few minutes.

 The absence made my brows furrow behind the mask. He was always there, watching, and paying. His silence tonight was unusual.

Still, I had to focus. I pushed the thought away and slipped my hand lower, teasing the edge of my panties while my hips rolled gently.

“Should I take it off?” I breathed out,“But that'll be too easy wouldn't it? You need to beg for it. Earn it. This pussy’s been neglected for so long because of you. It's been waiting for you.”

 Heat built between my thighs as I imagined strong hands gripping me instead of my own. I let out a breathy sigh, eyes half-lidded as I pressed my fingers around, circling lower until I could feel my clit.

Then my private inbox pinged.

My heart skipped mid-tease. Glancing at it, I knew who it was from.

I didn't expect his words however.

DevotedDom: Turn off the livestream. Private video call. Now.’