Page 2 of Always Watching

Fuck, it sucks that I bruise so easily. My subs will notice, for sure. If I thought it would affect my money, I’d cancel the show tonight, but most subs will ask if I’m okay and after I tell them why I’m all bruised, they’ll drop it. They don’t really care about my life. They care about me stroking my cock or playing with my ass until I come.

After getting some of the feeling back in my arms, I put away my groceries—which takes me the better part of twenty minutes since I take the time to throw out leftovers and clean my dishes, as well as organize my shelves.

A light film of sweat coats my body when I’m finished. It’s just as well. I need to get showered and changed into more comfortable clothes anyway, since my session starts in less than an hour.

My shower takes time, as I have to get myself clean and groomed everywhere. I’m not sure what my paid viewers will vote for tonight, so I want to be ready for anything.

I’m drying my hair with a towel when my eyes snag on the box I kicked in earlier. A frown turns down my lips. I don’t remember ordering anything recently.

I pick the box up, only to find it doesn’t have a shipping label on it, which means it’s not one of my subs sending me a toy from my wish list they’d like to see me use.

Every true crime program I’ve ever watched would caution me against opening this box. My recent experiences with someone leaving letters at my door would caution the same thing. But it could also be something Mr. Barlowe dropped off. He was coming from the second floor when I was coming up. There are only four units on this landing, so it’s a reasonable explanation.

Shrugging, I toss my towel onto one of the chairs at my dining table and pick up the box. It’s light, so I don’t think it’s a bomb. Duh, it’s not a bomb. I’m sure if it were, when I’d kicked it as hard as I had, it would have blown me to bits.

Since I figure I’m safe on that front, I grab a knife and cut through the tape. I expect more craziness from the unknown person who’s been leaving unsettling letters at my door, but no. It’s nothing like that. Or at least, I don’t think so. This gift is sweet, not threatening or creepy like the others I’ve received.

It’s a wheat-brown Build-A-Bear, equipped with a blue sweater that has my name on it. It can’t be a coincidence or mistake; there aren’t many people with the name Ranen. Is this something Mr. Barlowe dropped off to woo me or some shit? He’s old enough to be my dad, but he has his eyes set on me. Fucking creeper.

The bear is adorable, though.

I press the button on its paw to hear whatever song someone thought to include. Fear and dread skitter down my spine as I listen to the haunting melody of Tiny Tim’s “Tiptoe Through the Tulips.” For some reason, this song conjures up negative feelings of fear and anxiety that has my heart rate kicking up. I want this bear as far away from me as possible.

Still feeling uneasy, I stuff it back in the box and toss it across the room. Thankfully, the song doesn’t start up again.

My heart is thundering against my rib cage, and my hands are shaking. Who’s sending me all this creepy shit?

First, it was emails. They started off harmless enough, just saying they saw me and thought I was handsome and wanted to get to know me better—I figured it was a subscriber, since my email is public on my site—but then things got scarier when I didn’t answer them. Letters started showing up, stuffed in my door. The old-school stalker kind, with haphazard letters cut out of magazines and put together in a macabre sort of correspondence.

I had a camera mounted over my door to catch the culprit, but I live around college students who come and go, and I lost a lot of sleep with the constant alerts from the camera to my phone.So I took it down. I asked one of my closest friends and fellow cammers, Olly, for advice and help, but he didn’t know what to do either. He offered to spend a few nights with me to keep an eye on things, but that didn’t help—the day after he spent the night, we woke up to a letter stuffed in my door.

Whoever is doing this shit hasn’t tried to harm me, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. So I recently started taking self-defense classes and applied for a gun permit.

This is the first time in months they’ve made me afraid of being in my own home. I look around, thinking every dark corner has something lurking in it.

I nearly jump out of my skin when the alarm goes off—time for me to start my show. A nervous chuckle escapes as I run my hand over my forehead. I’m overreacting. Going from zero to one hundred because of a teddy bear. That’s the most harmless thing my stalker could have sent. Why am I freaking out?

“Give it a rest,” I mutter to myself, walking to my room so I can get dressed.

No matter what I tell myself, I’m still shaken up by the teddy bear. I’m not sure if it’s Mr. Barlowe or someone else, but I plan to ask him about it tomorrow. I’m not sure I’ll know if he’s telling the truth, but if he knows I’m onto his shit, he might chill out and stop making me feel unsafe—if itishim.

My hands are still shaking when I get my stream started. I try to push it down, but I’m fucking frightened. I tell myself to stop freaking out over a teddy bear, but it’s more than that… it’s that fucking song; so haunting and scary, eliciting a visceral response from me I wasn’t expecting.

Several pings pop up on my chat screen and I shake myself out of my thoughts.

derbycockrider69: u ok, Cas?

Cassidy Star is my cam name, but it takes me a moment to realize Derby is talking to me.

“I’m good, Derby. Thanks for asking,” I say in a tone that’s supposed to come out breathy, but sounds unsure. “I’m good.” More people join the stream and I greet them as they pop up. “I’m glad you could all join me. For those of you who weren’t around last week, we used a fleshlight. What are we in the mood for today? I have the options and a poll up for you to vote. You can purchase tokens to vote on my site, and I’ll close the voting in five minutes.”

camfan09: can we get a show while we wait?

teninchmonster: yeah. show your ass

kodachrome99: can we still watch if we don’t vote?

I look over the chats and smile, though it feels forced. “Yes, Cam, you can have a show while you wait. Sorry, Ten Inch, my ass is not a part of the show yet. Koda, you can watch since you paid to see the live feed. Don’t be disappointed if the show isn’t what you want to see, though.”

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