Somebody Watching Me
Watching Me – An Erotic Novelette by Charlene Black.
2016 Charlene Black
Stock images: Depositphotos.com
depicted in the images are models and used solely for illustrative
Cover Art by Tantric Candy
2017 by Charlene Black at Smashwords
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is a work of fiction. All characters are fictional and any
resemblance with real persons, living or dead, is unintentional.
This ebook contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. This
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Table of Contents
books by Charlene
She resists. He
persists. Time is on his side.
She is a professional
author of historical erotic fiction. Striving to transmit the
ultimate sensual experience to her readers, she is in the habit of
dressing up like her main character and touching herself in the same
way her characters are being touched while she is writing. One day,
in the middle of a seductive passage in her story, a chat message
opens on her computer screen. Whoever is on the other side knows
seems to know everything about her. Who is watching her and what does
this person want?
Me is woven together in a fascinating plot where the boundary
between fiction and reality becomes blurred and the past and the
present come together in unexpected ways. Do you like historical
erotic romance with a bite? Have ever played with the thought of
exposing yourself online to a stranger? Then you will enjoy this
enticing tantric novelette with an Explosive Blaze (4 out of 5)
Tantric Candy heat rating, where the sexual tension keeps rising –
over and over again – culminating in one steamy encounter after
Somebody Watching Me
I draw the heavy burgundy curtains and light the candles in the
two large candelabra standing on the floor. Dark wooden bookcases
line the walls of the room. A black divan couch strewn with red
cushions accompanies them. A breath of air – the flame of the match
is extinguished. A wisp of smoke still lingers above the charred
head. I inhale the fleeting scent of sulphur and burned wood.
feet sink into the ruby red rug as I walk across the floor and sit
down behind my desk. The leather creaks under my behind. I lean back
with a contented sigh; pleased with my office armchair and the many
hours of comfort it has given me. My writing desk has been with me
for a long time as well. It is a large, sturdy, antique colonial
desk. The surface is worn out and covered in scratches from past
incidents, made by people long forgotten. I run my fingers over the
surface and imagine what these scars would tell me if they could
am a professional author writing erotic fiction. I want my stories
and characters to be as believable as I can make them; I want every
touch to be felt and every moan to be genuine. When I write, I often
dress up as my main character or touch myself the same way my
characters are being touched, so that I can fully sense what I am
immerse myself in a story that is taking place in the 18th century.
In order to get into the right frame of mind, I am dressed in a black
and golden corset and an ankle length velvet skirt loosely draping
itself over my legs. The heroine of the story is a woman from a
wealthy family. I relish in the descriptions of her attire; the
luxurious look and feel of the fabrics of her clothing, a heavy
crimson velvet dress combined with a black satin brocade bodice
embroidered with a discrete gold motif. The locks of her long, dark
hair having come undone as she hurriedly enters through the door.
normal circumstances no respectable woman would dare venture into a
place like this, certainly not at such an hour. But these are no
ordinary circumstances. The air is bustling with the sound of voices,
music and laughter. As our heroine sits down in a corner, trying to
make herself invisible, her eyes are irresistibly drawn to the ladies
of pleasure making their living for the day. Generously exposed
décolletages, long skirts riding high up on their legs, smooth
thighs exposed. Each lady surrounded by two or more men buzzing
around them like bees swarming around apple blossom. Flirtatious
glances exchanged, hands finding their way up under the skirts.
apparent ease, the girl sitting closest our heroine is entertaining
three men at the same time. She is a beautiful young woman, wearing
her blond hair in a simple knot on her head. Her blue eyes are
seductively inviting, yet defiant at the same time – as if saying,
“Come and get me – if you dare”. Sitting in the lap of one
gentleman, she moves her hips in subtle circles. The man is untying
her corset in the back, while another one pulls it down, exposing her
breasts, fondling them and weighing them in his hands. A third man is
just watching for now, eyes fixated on her lovely bosom.
One of the
gentlemen frequenting this establishment spots our heroine and sits
down next to her. He places his hand on her knee, slowly edging it up
her leg. Another man is approaching. Our heroine knows all to well
where this is going. She will have to get out of here and take her
chances out on the street. She stands up. As she feared, the two men
do not want to let het go so easily. One of them grabs her arm in an
attempt to make her stay. She forcefully pulls her arm out of his
grip and rushes towards the door.
she starts walking down the street, but it does not take long before
she realizes that she is being followed. She begins to run as fast as
she can, but whoever is in pursuit is not giving up. Hurried
footsteps echo behind her own. In an attempt to shake her pursuer,
she dives into an alley, hoping to lose her shadow. She soon realizes
the mistake she has made as the alley ends in a dark dead end.
Panting heavily from the run, but trying to be as still as she can,
she stands in the shadows with her back against the wall. The steps
of her assailant are closing in on her.
he is up upon her, forcefully pressing his body up against her,
holding her fighting arms with his gloved hands.
thought you could get away from me”, he says in a low voice.
her dress, she feels the cold of the hard bricks pressing against her
back. From the front, she feels the force of his strong masculine
body, pressing against her, into her.
are you trying to run away from me?” His voice is strained, almost
pained. “You know I will always find you in the end and bring you
back to me where you belong.”
belong to no one, and most certainly not to you”, our heroine
replies through her clenched teeth, as she is struggling frantically
to free herself. Her bosom is heaving with the effort and the man
that she detests above all is clearly enjoying the sight. She can
feel his body respond and the force of his masculine presence
growing, pressing into her and through her, almost as if he is
entering her with his sheer will.
forcefully declares, “You might as well give up now, because I will
never yield to you!”
grabs a hold of her hair by the roots at the base of the scull,
forcing her to look him in the eyes. With an unfathomable look in
those deep-blue eyes and a voice that tolerates no opposition he
assures her, “Oh, but you will yield to me, even if you may not
know it yourself yet.”
keeping her body pinned firmly against the brick wall, he brings up
his other hand and touches her face. His touch is surprisingly
gentle. But as she tries to take advantage of the situation and pull
herself free, his grip tightens again and he starts sliding his hand
downwards along the front of her neck and further down into her
the smooth leather against her skin. She holds her breath,
excruciatingly aware of his presence still forcing its way into every
corner of her being. At the same time his hand is travelling
downwards at the same steady pace, reaching into her bodice and
exposing her milky white breast to the cool air of the night. Her
nipple reacts instantly. She curses her own body for its betrayal.
His attention is fixed on her breast and as his hand touches her
nipple, she cannot help but to gasp from the unexpected pleasure she
feels in her breast and from that exquisite flutter suddenly present
between her legs.
As I sit
in front of my laptop, writing this story, I have begun to touch
myself as well. The bluish light from the screen is falling on my
face and on my body. I have put on leather gloves and now slide my
hand along the front of my neck further down. As the hand in a soft
leather lifts my breast out of my corset, exposing it to the light of
the computer, I sense the same pleasure my heroine is experiencing.
Leathered fingers touching me, my nipple becomes hard as well. Oooh,
that tickling sensation signalling that I am becoming moist between
my legs. A moan of pleasure escapes my lips.
moment a chat window opens on my computer screen:
a lovely sight.
don’t you show me your other breast as well?
my hand covers my breast.
be coy now.
have been watching you write and I have been reading your stories for
quite some time now.
know you are a sensuous woman, your body yearning for pleasure.
lower you hand again.
me, you will enjoy this.
hand still on my breast, I slam my laptop shut with my other hand. My
mind is racing. I can’t believe it – somebody is watching me real
time through my webcam. How…? Why…? My heart is pounding in my
chest. This is so creepy! At the same time, I also feel a rush of
excitement in my body. It is kind of horny as well… Somebody has
been watching me, I don’t know how long. I try to think back…
What was I doing all those times? How much has he seen already?
hand still on my breast. I touch my nipple. My nipple instantly
contracts again, sending a tingle of pleasure in between my legs.
What if…? Should I…? Can I…? I decide to give in to my
curiosity. I open my laptop. I sense him watching. Slowly, I lower my
hand, revealing my breast again.
show me how much you enjoy touching your breasts.