Midnight Caller Read online

  Even after only a few months, infected humans appeared so much like the Bocaj that, at first glance, there was virtually no way to tell them apart. Our kind, as well as the altered humans, had assimilated into society over time, spreading out all over the globe and fitting in as normal people.

  Because of our interactions, I’d discovered how much pleasure I got from human females. I felt a draw to them—a need to dominate. Payton couldn’t explain her draw toward Caleb anymore than I could explain my draw toward humans. It’s just how it was; nothing would help her understand why I needed to do this. I didn’t even understand it myself.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  I started the next day watching Rebecca work by looking at the surveillance cameras in the security office. Nothing seemed different about her, but I knew otherwise.

  It wasn’t so much what she had done last night—it was more what she didn’t do. She didn’t call the police. True, I’d used a secure phone. Untraceable. But she didn’t know that.

  Her father had been a Sergeant Major in the Marines, so she would have known how to call and file a report. She hadn’t called the police for one reason, and that reason was the simple fact that my call had thrilled her.

  I watched her eat her lunch on the small black and white screen. I could watch her all day, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to be near her, interact with her.

  I knew it was much too soon for Sir and butterfly to interact, but perhaps I could speak to her as Oliver.

  I picked up my phone and made a call. “I want in on the wrestling game.”

  “Ollie, what’s up with that?” Shane laughed.

  “Nothing, I just wanna get my hands in something again. You want help or not?”

  “Yeah, sure. It will be great!”

  “You have the editing team set up yet?”

  “No, why?”

  “I have someone specific in mind. I’ll call Ms. Lancaster and set it up.”

  “What aren’t you telling me? Why the sudden interest?”

  “No reason. I just feel like drawing for video games again,” I answered.

  “Oliver, don’t bullshit me. I’m glad we’re working together, but what is this about? Is this about a woman?”

  I considered lying, but decided honesty was the best policy. “Of course it’s about a woman, Shane. Isn’t it always about a woman?”

  After calling Ms. Lancaster and leaving her and Shane to work out the details of the project so that it included Rebecca and myself, I returned my focus to the small screen. I watched her until she left for the day, then headed home to continue my observations.

  She had been home for thirty minutes and had yet to open her curtains. This did not discourage me; I took it as a challenge. I knew she was aroused by the idea of me watching. Even from across the street, I saw her pupils dilate and her pulse pick up when I had called. True, it could have been fear, but fear would have resulted in a phone call to the police, not a night of restless sleep filled with erotic dreams.

  Yes, my butterfly had the habit of moaning in her sleep.

  I could tell from the lighting that she was currently in her bathroom. Having yet to see her shower, as she always kept her bathroom shades closed, I had to use my imagination.

  I wasn’t surprised when the bathroom light flicked off and she didn’t open her bedroom curtains, but I was surprised that she was going straight to bed. Every so often she did this, preferring to have a night in her pajamas while simply reading in bed. However, her reading would often arouse her and lead to masturbation.

  She had never done this with the curtains closed, and I knew it was no coincidence. It was time to see how much of an exhibitionist she truly was, and how receptive she was to pleasing me.

  I dialed and waited for her to pick up.

  “You disappoint me, butterfly. Open the curtains,” I said in a commanding voice. I was still speaking in a whisper, but I knew my tone conveyed confidence.

  I listened to her take a few quick breaths.

  “Why should I listen to you?” she asked in a clipped tone.

  Her tone excited me—aroused me. She was being flippant, and that should and would be punished. I felt my cock swell in my pants at the thought of her on the whipping bench.

  “First of all, you will not talk to me with that disrespectful tone. Second, you will open the curtain to please me.”

  Through the phone, I could hear her heartbeat accelerate.

  “Are you listening, little girl?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice barely audible.

  “When you are ready to give your body to me, to submit to my will, you will open the curtains and perform for me.” My command was simple. The question was, would she follow it?

  “Wait, who is this?” she asked in a much softer voice. That was a start. I wanted to reward her for her attempt, but I would not be lenient on her. I didn’t want to set a bad precedent.

  “Perform well, butterfly, and perhaps I will grant you your request,” I said and then hung up the phone.

  I waited to see if she would open the curtains. As each second ticked by, I doubted myself, but it had to be this way. Perhaps it had been too much too soon. If she was going to be my submissive, she would have to do as I told her—everything I told her. It was within her power to decide whom she gave herself to, but if she agreed to submit to me, she would do so completely. I’d tolerate nothing less.

  The curtains fluttered, and my cock echoed the movement. Before they were even half way open, it was hard and straining against my pants.

  I watched her finish pulling open the curtains slowly and look for me. I was sitting in the dark, sure that she couldn’t see me.

  She appeared nervous and that excited me. The rest of her performance did not. Her fingers rubbed at her clit, but there was no passion. She tugged on her nipples, but they didn’t react as they usually did. She began using her toy but was hurried in her movements, and I was surprised that she found an orgasm at all. When she finished, she turned and looked at the phone, no doubt waiting for my call.

  I knew the level of perfection to which she could perform, and that was not it. While I was certain that it was due to nervousness, I would not reward it. Otherwise, she may feel that such behavior would be tolerated down the line. It most certainly would not.

  I called and it rang only once.

  “That was beautiful, butterfly, but it was not your best performance. Try harder tomorrow and maybe you will be rewarded with what you want.”

  I hung up the phone without another word. Once again I could see her storming around her apartment in anger. My cock jumped at the sight of her like this. Her cheeks were bright pink and her breasts bounced as she cleaned up after her little show, throwing her toy back into her nightstand drawer and slamming it with such force that I was sure it woke the neighbors.

  Such a temper.

  So punishable.

  I took my cock, still straining against my pants, and freed it. I imagined her once again bent over the whipping bench.

  “Such a naughty little girl,” I said as I caressed her ass. “So deserving of a spanking.”

  I stroked myself with each imagined strike to her beautiful bottom. Faster and faster I spanked her, stroking myself to the rhythm in my head. She was screaming out in both pleasure and pain—or was that my scream as the orgasm ripped itself from my body?

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  She was pissed. Still. I could see it in the way she slammed things around her apartment in the morning while getting ready for work, and in her demeanor once at work. Oh, she was professional, but you could tell every little thing annoyed her.

  I watched her attitude change though, and after lunch she went from angry to sensual. It was times like this that I wished we were on speaking terms so I could ask her what made her mood change.

  I continued observing her as she unconsciously rubbed her legs together and bit her lower lip. She was sex in its rawest form,
even when she wasn’t trying. My dick hardened more and more while I watched her, and I contemplated relieving the pressure. No, I would wait for tonight, when I was certain that what she was doing was because of me.

  When she came home from work, I was pleased that she’d left the curtains open as she moved around the apartment. She had removed her heels, but other than that, she remained in her work clothes as she prepared a chef salad for dinner. She ate at the kitchen table while reading, eventually taking the book with her to the couch.

  As the sun set, she closed her book and headed toward the bathroom. Nearly thirty minutes later, I was wondering if she was ever coming out. It was worth the wait. When she emerged, she looked stunning. Often times she wore sweatpants and a t-shirt to bed, but not tonight. She was wearing a dark blue bra and panty set that made her skin glow.

  She pulled back the covers and removed them from the bed. After placing them on the floor, she ran her hand across the expensive sheets. I watched, unblinking, as she lay on the bed, moving provocatively on the fabric. She was putting on a show, and it was one hell of a show at that. The seductiveness of her movements had me hard almost instantly. The way her body rubbed on the sheets and her hand moved over her breast, was more than for her pleasure. She was performing for me.

  Her nipples became hard instantly when she brought her hand up to her breast and began to rub them through the cups of her bra. When it appeared she couldn’t take it anymore, she removed the bra and rolled her nipples between her fingers. Her lips parted in what looked like a sigh as one of her hands slid down her stomach and under the waistband of her panties, which she quickly pulled off. I could see that her soft curls were already damp with excitement.

  She allowed a finger to slip in and arched her back with pleasure. Adding a second, she slid them in and out for a few moments and then, much to my enjoyment, rolled onto her knees and crawled on all fours to the nightstand where she kept her toys. If there was any doubt as to whether or not she was performing for me, the little shake of her ass as she crawled across the bed certainly cleared up that concern.

  I was pleasantly surprised when she withdrew her large vibrator from the drawer. I wasn’t sure exactly what message she was trying to send me with that choice, but what I took from it was that she would have no problems accommodating my size. I would never attempt vaginal intercourse with a human, though. It was simply too dangerous. For now, I would watch and enjoy the show.

  Her pussy was completely exposed to me, and I could see it glisten in the small amount of light cast by her alarm clock. I didn’t need the light to see her, but the blue glow it cast gave her skin a pale transparent, almost Bocaj-like quality. For a moment, I wondered what she would look like if she were one of us—pale, with a chlorophyll-like substance running through her veins rather than blood. I dismissed the thought quickly, though, reminding myself that she was not a Bocaj, and would not become a Bocaj. Through the years, I’d had many obedient subs who were willing to give me anything, just as I was sure Rebecca would. But obedient or not, I would never ask them to attempt the change. Such an attempt would mean almost certain death; they would simply not be strong enough to survive the transformation.

  Tonight was the first time she was truly serving me. She was performing for my pleasure as well as her own. I removed my cock from my pants and, using the fluid that leaked from the tip, coated it to make it slippery.

  “That’s it, butterfly,” I whispered, stroking my cock. She had just brought her knees up to her chest and then let them fall open, once again resembling a butterfly.

  I watched as she turned on her vibrator and pressed the tip to her nipple. She circled each peak twice and then slowly moved her toy down to her dripping curls. She rubbed her clit with the vibrator and her legs fluttered as she brought herself pleasure. By the time she finally plunged her toy into her moist pussy, she was breathing heavily. Her body responded to the rhythmic thrusting as well as the small attachment that was grazing her clit with each pass. I watched as she grew wetter and wetter. A trail of her arousal flowed from her pussy and over her tight puckered hole.

  She surprised me again by not touching her ass. Although she had only been aware of me for three days, I had been watching her for a while, and I knew that she had the best orgasms when she added a finger to that tight hole.

  I stroked my cock in rhythm with her hand until her movements became too erratic to mimic. She had been tugging on her breasts and rubbing her nipples gently, but as her pace became quicker, she began squeezing and twisting harder, pulling them from her body roughly. Although I couldn’t hear her, I knew she was making quite a bit of noise.

  I thought of what it would sound like when I was the one tugging and pinching her breasts while she screamed out in pleasure and pain from my touch. My cock grew even larger and I fought to hold off my release, wanting to wait for my butterfly to find hers first.

  Moments later, I watched as her orgasm took hold of her body, actually expelling the dildo she had been using. When she slammed it back into her, it only intensified her climax. My hand squeezed tightly around my cock, like I knew her pussy would be doing if I was inside of her. A growl rumbled from my chest when I allowed my own release. I watched intently while she continued to ride out her orgasm. The liquid shot from my body in streams that arced in the air from the chair in which I sat, and landed on the window that separated us.

  It was times like this, I thought as I quickly wiped the come from the glass, that I missed Gretchen. She would have eagerly cleaned the window in any way I had asked—cloth, her own clothing, or even her tongue if it would have pleased me. It was a fleeting thought as I looked back to the reason for the mess in the first place.

  Soon though, I hoped that I would have a new pet willing to serve me. She had done amazingly well so far tonight. Her performance was breathtaking, and now it was time to reward her.

  I picked up the phone.

  “That was beautiful, butterfly, and your body pleased me. Because of that, I will grant your request. You may call me Sir.”

  Chapter 4

  butterfly

  I’d woken up mad and had remained that way most of the day at work, which was awful. It was filled with meeting after meeting. I couldn’t even let myself sink into my work, because my mind kept getting drawn back to my midnight caller. Last night I had been pissed, but after a restless sleep and hours of boring meetings to dwell on it, I realized he had been right. It was a terrible performance. I was nervous as hell, and it had been rushed. I could have taken more time. Hell, I could have put way more effort into it.

  That was when I decided that I was going to treat tonight like a date. A date with myself—and my midnight caller.

  After work, I took a long shower to shave my legs, armpits and bikini line, as I liked to keep myself neat and trimmed up. When I was done, I blew my hair dry and left it loose, then chose a dark blue bra and panty set for tonight because whenever I wore it, I felt sexy.

  I pulled back the covers, removed them from the bed, and ran my hand across the smooth sheets. Some people spent their money on gambling, others on fancy restaurants; my vice—sheets. I had pale blue, long staple, 100% Egyptian cotton sheets on the bed tonight.

  Slowly, I sat up and leaned against the headboard. My knees, which were up near my chest, fell gently open, exposing my entire body. I shivered at the thought that now he could possibly see every inch of me. I didn’t know how it was possible—my room was completely dark with the exception of the light from my alarm clock—yet somehow I just knew that he could see me.

  That knowledge alone had me tingling, yet I was surprised when I found my soft curls already damp with excitement. I plunged my fingers in a few times, and while it felt good, I wanted more. I rolled onto my knees and crawled on all fours to the nightstand where I kept my toys. I wondered for a moment if he was watching, so I shook my ass slightly as I realized that he must be getting a really good view of it. In the darkness, I felt for my rabbit. It was l
onger and thicker than some of my other toys, and tonight I felt the need to be stretched, filled.

  And I had been. I’d fucked my pussy hard and fast. I imagined what he was doing as he watched me, and at that thought, I couldn’t hold off any longer. I came so hard that every muscle in my body contracted and then relaxed, leaving me feeling like mush.

  I lay there panting on the bed for a moment—covered in sweat and wetness—before the phone rang. I jumped up and answered it quickly.

  “That was beautiful, butterfly, and your body pleased me. Because of that, I will grant your request. You may call me Sir. “

  “Sir?” I asked questioningly.

  “First of all, little girl, Sir knows that you are new to this, but you must learn to only speak to Sir with respect. Do you understand?”

  I felt wetness gush out of me at his words. Any part of me that was offended at the way he was speaking to me, at the use of the words ‘little girl’, went out the window.

  “Yes, Sir,” I answered quietly, trying to cover the trepidation in my voice.

  “That was a good girl. But I did not tell you to speak. My butterfly will only speak when Sir says the word ‘speak.’ Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I answered quickly, trying to keep him on the line. I was afraid he would hang up and I’d never speak to him again. He was a mystery I had to unravel.

  “I did not tell you to speak!” he said in a harsh tone. “You will not speak until I tell you to speak. Do you understand, little girl?”

  I opened my mouth, first to apologize for speaking out of turn and then, after a moment of reflection, to tell him off for telling me when I could and couldn’t speak. I closed it again before doing either, the gush of wetness between my legs stopping me from saying anything. As much as I’d been raised to speak my mind, something about his tone made my stomach feel like it was full of butterflies and my clit throb, all at the same time. For now, I would be quiet.

  “That’s a good girl. My butterfly learns so quickly and is easy to train. She likes to obey Sir, doesn’t she?”