Camera Three

Camera Three CoverBad kept one eye on camera three as ten a.m. approached. He’d cleared all calls in the log, taken a round in the last hour, and triple-checked the schedule to make certain he was the only one likely to be in the office.

He reached down to idly stroke his dick through his regulation khakis. Down, boy. Maybe later.

The door at the bottom of the screen swung open and he leaned forward, but it was only WWF-wannabe. The little cunt. What he wouldn’t give to find that kid sprawled out one of these nights with his pants around his ankles and penises drawn all over him in Sharpie.

Tick tock, Red. Where the fuck are you?

Red was always just a little bit early for work. He wasn’t like some of these entitled fuckers, rolling in whenever the fuck they felt like dragging their asses out of bed. Red got to work on time, stayed all shift, and was nice even to the idiots trying to send vegetables through the campus mail system. (It was always girls. And the vegetables in question were almost always phallic. One memorable time he’d watched Red blush while a sorority princess mimed sucking a cucumber. “But it’s a joke for my boyfriend!” she’d whined. “I’m sorry, but unless it’s in a box, I can’t deliver that for you.”)

I’ll give you something to deliver.

Bad adjusted himself again and stared at the screen, willing Red to walk in.

Last night had been…shit. Last night had been hot as hell. Scrubbing his spunk into Red’s balls, forcing a little bit of it into his ass—yeah, okay, so that wasn’t exactly protected sex, but fuck it, it’s not like he reamed the kid first, hardly any risk, even if he was positive, which he wasn’t.

Well, obviously he had no idea what Red got up to with other people. Fire raged through his blood, then calmed. No. No, that was a tight little boy pussy, not a used up loose piece of—

The door in camera three opened again. There. Red.

Red. In the same shirt as last night, Bad was almost sure, black v-neck only visible through his half-unzipped red sweatshirt.

WWF appeared to be giving him a hard time, but Red waved it off and shoved his hood down, looking straight up at the camera.

Oh fuck.

The kid was looking right at him. Well, okay, the kid was looking right at a little black lens, but that didn’t matter. He knew he was looking at Bad, and apparently he was pretty fucking certain Bad would be looking at him.

Cocky little shit. The liberty of it—of wearing the same shirt, un-prompted, of showing it off, of making it very fucking obvious that’s what he was doing—pissed Bad off, but the challenge (come and get me) made him ravenous.

That cemented it. He might have talked himself out of the plan before, but no way now. No fucking way. Red better goddamn hope WWF was planning to eat his lunch outside, because there was no way Bad was going to let him off lightly today. Not with the kid running around flaunting himself like that. Flaunting what they’d done in the bar.

Had he showered? Had he showered and put the same shirt on, or was that part of it?

He realized he was touching himself again and forced his hand to stop. Fucking the kid on their shared lunch break was against the rules, but jerking off during work surrounded by cameras seemed foolish beyond reason.

Reason. What reason? He wanted Red with his pouty little mouth in between his legs right the fuck now, nuzzling at him through the khakis, sucking him like he had last night, right through his fucking pants.


He needed a distraction. He needed to stop watching camera three in the hopes that Red would look up again. Because one, it was pathetic, and two, Red putting on airs like a needy little bitch wasn’t to be encouraged. In fact, the more Bad saw him do shit like that, the sooner this would all end.

And fuck it, this was the first time in a long time he didn’t dread getting up in the morning. Plus, he had a plan, dammit.

He looked at the clock and sighed, like a fucking schoolgirl.

* * *

Sue was nice enough, and the only other out asshole in the department. Nice in the sense that he liked her. He only liked her because she was a fucking cunt, and didn’t mind if people knew it.

She’d left him a note on his inbox that read Hey, mutt bunch. If you get a minute, feel free to do my reports. Thanks a munch! It was the kind of note they left each other, just for fun. But today Bad was just desperate enough to dig into Sue’s paperwork, if only to keep his mind off camera three.

Fucking Sue kept terrible, embarrassing files. He’d never been inside anyone else’s mind like this, but he found that her mind was a disorganized hellscape where even the alphabet could change at any moment.

Two hours passed without him noticing.

He would have missed lunch entirely, except that the cameras lit up at lunch while people in all the classrooms and all the shops and all over Commons started moving at the same time.

He glanced up just in time to see WWF wave as he walked out of the mail room.


Bad shoved Sue’s goddamn files to the side and pulled out his phone. He texted Do you have a headset for the phone? and watched the screen as Red picked up the text, glanced at the camera, then nodded.

Good. Can it read you text messages? I can’t speak freely.

This one took a minute or two of Red paging through his little screen. He tapped a few things in and the message came through Bad’s phone: Send me another one once I’m set up.

Okay, then.

The kid rummaged around in his bag, then tucked a little thing in his ear, fiddling with it the whole time. He went back to his phone and fiddled with that. Then he looked up again.

Does it work?

He could tell by Red’s smile that it did. Fucking kid had no damn reason to smile like that.

Show me your cock, Bad typed, and waited.

Good. Communications established and the smile was gone. Red shifted, setting his phone on the counter, scooting up in the chair so he could pull out his junk.

No. Pants all the way down, around your ankles.

Red balked, looking up at the camera again.

If that little prick you work with comes back, I want him to know what you were doing. I want him to see how dirty you are.

Hard to tell on the grainy picture, but little Red looked a little uneasy.


He lowered his eyes and shoved his pants down, raising his ass off the chair to do it, springy little willie all eager to go. Red settled back down, breathing hard, not looking up.

Shit, the kid was hot. Sweet little cut cock, hair just long enough to brush his eyebrows, just long enough to accentuate his down-cast gaze.

Turn over and peel your cheeks apart. Want to see your hole.

It was a challenge, Bad could tell, with his pants all caught up on his shoes. Still, Red turned, tried to hug the back of the chair, gave up and stood. Oh, this was fucking delicious, watching the kid in an obscene standing forward bend, watching him slowly put his hands back, slowly pull his ass open.

Bad could see three goddamn rulers right there on the desk, and wouldn’t that be hot, making the kid spank himself for Bad’s amusement? Were the walls thick enough? The metal rolling shade over the window had no sound proofing at all. He’d risked it the other day, but he wouldn’t have Red do anything stupid when he clearly did not have his own best interests at heart, at least not until Bad investigated it a little more. (So what’s that make you? Mary fuckin’ Poppins? Bad focused on the sight before him and returned to his phone.)

Suck on one finger, then stick it in.

Red obeyed, but the angle was bad, and the show wasn’t all it could be.

Find a Sharpie.

No eye contact now. Red found a pen and stood there, holding it, like he didn’t know what was coming.

Bend over the desk and fuck yourself with it.

He couldn’t see Red’s actual hole from camera three (though if WWF did come back early, he’d get a hell of a view), but he could see the delicate fingers plunging the marker in and out, which was suggestive enough to supply not only its own wide angle lens to his imagination, but its own soundtrack as well.

Shove it in deep and turn so I can see.

Jesus fuck, Red almost lost the damn pen up there, he pushed it in so fucking far. But when he bent over all the way, Bad could see the little bit of it trying to push out.

Good work, little boy. Make sure you keep that inside.

Dammit. He should get the kid a real fucking plug, so he could make him leave it in all day, flashing the camera whenever WWF left the room. Bad checked the clock. WWF was fucking inconvenient. If he wasn’t here, Bad could be down there fucking Red with the Sharpie himself.

Tug on your little boy wiener, Red. Give it a few good hard pulls.

The kid’s cock wasn’t big, but his balls were impressively heavy-looking, a nice handful. Bad liked the pork, but the beans held a special place in his world, and he’d love to have Red’s at his mercy. Tied off so they couldn’t run away, Red begging him to stop, finding new things to touch him with until he couldn’t remember the word “stop” anymore and all he wanted was everything.

Christ. Get it together. On the screen, Red was yanking away.

Do not fucking come until I give you permission.

Bad unzipped his own pants, watching the kid’s head go back as he pulled his wee little prick harder.

Stairs. Footsteps on the stairs. Bad, heart pounding, shoved his cock back into his pants and zipped up, just as Sue stepped inside.

“Hey, Bad. How’s it hanging? I gotta—fuck, you screwed up all my files!”

“I organized your files, bitch. Fuck, where’d you learn to alphabetize, the dyslexia academy for under achievers?”

“Aw, cute, did you just—”

Fuck. He hadn’t hit the feed to camera three. She was in the room too fast, and she probably would have tried to fix it anyway if he’d pretended it was broken. But the other alternative was—this.

“Holy hell, Campion, you’ve been holding out on me. How often does the mail room cutie put on a show like this?”

He froze, and for a second he thought he’d been found out. But she was grinning, leaning in closer as if she could see better (he could have told her that actually made it worse).

“Not that often, but it’s a nice treat. The fuck’re you doing here, anyway?”

“Bee in my bonnet over that assault the other night. Third time this fucking semester, and I’m sick of it.” She shook her head, still watching Red’s fist on his cock. “Hell. You sonofabitch. You get all the good stuff.”

“Yeah, I also watch the line cooks pick their noses while making the food.”

“Gross, Bad, you fucker. Shit, well, you screwed up my system.” She turned away and started picking through files again. On the screen Red finally looked up, rolling onto his toes, then back down (and the damn pen was still up his butt).

Bad tapped out a quick Keep going, don’t look up and put on a good disgusted face for Sue. “You didn’t have a fucking system. Anyway, you’re not on for another three hours, why don’t you fucking get lost?”

“Just got out of class, thought I’d take the file down to Commons.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Which cooks pick their noses?”

“All of them. But you’re safe with a sandwich.” Just get out of here for godsake before WWF comes back and Red never forgives me. “See you later, Sue.”

“Uh huh. Have fun perving on teenagers.”

“Hey, do I question the will of God? No, I do not.”

“Yeah, sure, Badness. See ya!”

He waved with one hand while the other was already texting. Almost busted. Come all over yourself, Red. I want to see it dripping down your chest.

Red’s back arched, then he folded in, coming hard. That felt good, didn’t it little boy? Don’t get used to it.

Rub it on your cock and balls. Rub it all over your body. Armpits, ass crack.

And oh, it was sweet, watching Red’s hands skim over his skin. Bad could almost feel it himself, cooling spunk, not quite sticky, but almost sticky, and that fucking naughty feeling of having made a mess, and instead of cleaning up, basking in it.

Save a little to push inside your boy-cunt when you take out the Sharpie.

Red turned without being told, so Bad could watch. He had to push to get the fucking marker out (oh, Jesus, that would be hot, shoving things in that tight little ass and making the kid grunt and pant and push to get them out), and he had no problem sticking a spunk-covered finger in his hole. The finer details were lost to low-resolution closed-circuit technology, but Bad could make them up.

Put the pen back in the pen holder, Red. Try to get your little butt buddy to use it today. The way he looks at your ass, he’d probably like it.

That got him a look directly into the camera. A glare, really. Hard-edged and unimpressed.

Put your clothes back on. Meet me in the bathroom at the far end of the lower level after your shift.

Red nodded, pulled up his pants, and put the office to rights.

I hope it smells like ass and come in there, boy. I hope it smells like fucking.

The kid was still straightening up the desk when the door opened. Bad glanced at the clock, but there were twelve minutes left to Red’s lunch break. Christ, that was close.

Well, that would have been interesting, he sent. I wonder if he would have shoved his dick in if he came back while you were bent over the desk like that.

Onscreen, Red was shaking his head. After a second he pulled the thing out of his ear and threw it in his man bag.

Sexy little shit. Maybe tomorrow Bad would make him keep the ear thing on, too.

* * *

He made certain Red got to the bathroom first, and no one else walked in behind him. The lower level was mostly store rooms, but every now and then someone needed something.

Bad slammed into the bathroom like a fucking demon and immediately grabbed hold of Red’s hair. “Down,” he growled, shoving the kid to the floor. “Take off your shirt and open your mouth.”

Red reached for his legs to stabilize himself, but opened his mouth wide and tilted his head back so Bad could see his just-slightly-crooked teeth.

“I think it’s time we gave your mouth a good workout, don’t you?” He used his fingers first, gauging how unsettling Red found it. Some guys got off on a good tonsil inspection, some guys didn’t give a shit, but some guys—like Red, here—fucking hated the sensation of a man’s hands in their mouth. Maybe it was the taste, maybe it felt demeaning, but Bad liked to do it, and especially liked it when someone wanted to tell him to fuck off but didn’t.

Or couldn’t, rather, since his big fucking fingers were in their mouth.

“Yeah, this is a fuckable mouth.” He used two fingers of each hand to pull open Red’s cheeks, hollowing him out. “Uh huh, I can see fucking you like this. Let’s do a little gag reflex test.” Red tried to close his mouth, but Bad held fast to his jaw with one hand (hard, because it was slippery), and laid two fingers flat on Red’s tongue with the other.

“If you want to suck me, pussy, you have to earn it. What’s a little gagging between friends, right?”

And oh, yeah, the boy was riled now. Eyes hot, muscles tense and coiled, ready to rise up, ready to fight.

Bad lined up all four fingers on his right hand, left still holding that jaw open, and aimed them at the back of the kid’s throat, looking right into his angry, needy eyes all the fucking time.

Red gagged, trying to recoil, but Bad plugged a thumb in to keep his jaw in place.

“Let’s give it another shot,” he said, and did it again.

This time he let go and Red bent over, coughing, hacking, heaving. “You asshole! Fuck!”

“Open your mouth, Red. Get back over here and open your mouth.”

“No! Fuck you!”

Bad waited. He had to be pissy, had to be aggressive, sure, that’s what he wanted to feel. But what he really felt, beneath the violation, beneath the rage, was desire. So Bad just stood there and waited for Red to get himself under control.

When the worst of the hacking had passed, he said, “Kneel in front of me and open your mouth, Red.”

The kid, face red, eyes fucking floating in tears, dragged himself back to Bad’s feet. He straightened his spine, squared his shoulders, and opened his fucking mouth.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Betrayal fresh in Red’s blue eyes, he stuck out his tongue. Bad unzipped himself and pulled out his cock, pumping it even though it was already fucking hard. Even though any fucking kid on his knees, submitting even after he was scared, would make him hard.

“One of my coworkers saw you today. She watched you on the screen. Thought it was pretty fuckin’ hot, though she didn’t know you were doing it for me.” He ran his cock side to side over the kid’s tongue. “You make me want to fuck you in public, Red. You make me want to pierce your nipples and lead you around on a chain. My little fuckpuppet, covered in my seed. I wonder how many times I could come all over you before you had to shower. A day. A weekend. A month, maybe, of me coming on you at least twice a day, making you wear it, making you fucking bathe in it. Would you like that, Red?”

Red’s throat worked as he swallowed, not quite able to take in the cock against his tongue, not with his mouth wide like this, but he wanted it, badly.

Bad painted his cheeks with pre-come, jacking himself, feeling all the crazy spinning energy of orgasm build in his balls. “No. You haven’t earned it yet.” He moved forward and pulled Red’s head to his body. “Lick my balls, kid. Suck on ’em real nice.”

The kid licked and sucked and when he wasn’t doing it right, Bad pulled him in too close, nose right up against his cock, just long enough to get uncomfortable, before releasing him. But Red didn’t pull back, he went right back in, tongue working, his entire fucking face getting in on it like he was trying to show Bad everything, all at once.

“Back off,” Bad snapped, and fucking exploded all over Red, splashing his face, his neck, his chest. He shouldn’t even be able to come like that, not after last night, not after whacking it in the shower this morning. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, fuck yeah, Red, look at you, you sick little slut.” And knowing he was rubbing his spunk in everywhere Red had already rubbed his own? Fucking so hot. He paid special attention to Red’s pits, making sure he got some good juicy gobs in his wiry pit pubes. “That’s right, Red, I’m everywhere. I’m all fucking over you. Open your mouth again.

Red did, eyes glazed over, face blissed out.

“Here’s a little extra,” Bad said, rubbing the last of his spunk over the kid’s gums. “There, you like that? You like that, little pussy?”

“Yes, sir,” Red croaked. He cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. I like the way you taste.”

Bad paused, wondering what the fuck that meant, and why it freaked him the fuck out. “I want to see you at that bar again, dancing. I want you to go there tonight and stick your hand in someone’s pants, down the back, until you can feel their hole. Right there on the dance floor. You think you can do that, Red?”

Red blinked up at him, looking debauched and wicked and weirdly vulnerable. “You gonna be watching?”

“The fuck would I have you do it if I wasn’t gonna be watching? When you finish, I want you to come find me so I can smell ass on your hand, and if you’ve managed to do it, I might think about letting you suck me off.”

“Yes, sir. Tonight, at—wait. I can’t do tonight. Sorry. I have a—a thing. A prior commitment. Tomorrow?”

Bad wasn’t making a fucking date, he was issuing an order—what was the fucking confusion? He grunted. “Fine. But if you don’t show up, you’ll never see me again, Red. Understand?”

“Understood. Thank you.”

“Get dressed and get the fuck out of here.”

“Yes, sir.”

The kid pulled on his shirt, rose on shaky legs, and got the fuck out of there.

[olympus_box color=”green” float=”center” text_align=”left” width=””] Stay tuned for next week! Jump to Room 111 for the discussion![/olympus_box]