Chapter Text
"Am I speaking to Connor? Connor Miller Merritt?"
The man's voice sounded pleasant enough, but Connor still stiffened in his office chair. It was never fucking good when one of the customers knew his name. And his whole name, too. How the fuck had he managed to get that?
"Yeah—yes. I'm Connor Merritt. What is this call…regarding?"
He fucking hoped it was just a transfer to someone else, in some other department.
"I hacked into your phone, Connor. I was just looking for the passwords to your bank account, but I found something more interesting than passwords. Do you know what I found, Connor?"
The man's voice still sounded pleasant, but now there was a slightly mocking edge to it. "If you need a hint, I found it buried in your photographs."
Something cold gripped the back of Connor's neck, and he sat bolt upright in his chair. In his peripheral vision, he saw a few heads swivel to look at him. There was no fucking privacy in this place.
"I—I don't know what you mean. Who are you?"
"I think you know exactly what I mean, Connor. The video. I watched it. I watched it more than once."
Connor shifted his phone to his other ear, pinching it between his chin and his shoulder so he could blot his sweaty palms on his jeans. "I—that wasn't—I didn't—"
"Oh, it's pretty obvious exactly what you did, Connor. Did you take film classes in college? You did a great job of lighting. I could see every detail."
The phone slipped, and Connor grabbed for it, pressing it up hard against his ear. "Who are you? Why are you calling me…here? I'm at work."
"I know you're at work, Connor. Obviously. Now listen to me: I have a very important question for you, and you will want to answer me truthfully. Are you ready to answer me truthfully, Connor?"
The man kept saying his name, and every time Connor felt himself flinch. "I…I don't…"
"Have any of your coworkers seen your cock?"
People were staring at him. Connor knew they were, but he couldn't stop himself from sweating and flushing and gripping the phone like it was the detonation device for a suicide bomb.
"Connor? Answer my question."
He hunched over his desk. "N—no."
"Are you sure? Not even in the restroom? The guy next to you in the urinal?"
Connor was shaking his head, but not in answer to the man's question—just in general denial that this situation was happening. Gods. He had made one video.
"Connor?"
"I—I use the toilet stall."
"A shy pisser?" The man sounded amused. "This is going to be so difficult for you. I'm almost sorry. Look up at the video screen. The big one, above your desk."
Reflexively, he looked up. Management sometimes played inspirational videos on the large screens, but more often, they were just showing random bits of scenery.
They weren't—they weren't playing scenery now. They were showing a video clip of a cock. His cock. His video—and any second now, his face was going to come into frame and then—
The video cut right before his face, looping back to the image of his cock. Someone a few desks over let out a short, sharp gasp.
"Connor, unless you want me to play the rest of that video, you are going to give me your personal work login now."
Relief washed through Connor. This wasn't about him then, not really. This was a hacker using him to strike at the company, and Connor didn't give a single solitary shit about the company.
"Connor? Either give me your credentials, or I will play the rest of that video. And I only have a very short window before your IT department will force me to make a choice—"
"CONNORM," Connor said. "My password is IHTFJass69. Everything but the ass is uppercase."
Around him, everyone was watching his cock on the screens. The whispers of shock were growing louder.
"Very mature of you, Connor." In front of him, his own screen blipped as it was logged out, then logged back in. "Don't change your password. If you change your password, I will send this video to everyone in your phone. The full video."
The large screens above him went suddenly dark, and the man's voice in his ear became a dial tone. Connor released a low, shaky breath. Okay. It was over. He might be fired if whatever the hacker did to the company was traced back to his login, but more likely, they'd just think he'd been phished and make him watch a few training videos.
"—see the tattoo? Who the hell has a tattoo on their dick?"
Connor flinched. "What?"
Mike settled his hip on the edge of Connor's desk. "Come on. You couldn't have missed it. Not exactly subtle."
"I—uh, yeah, I…saw it."
Mike jerked his head at another co-worker, drawing her over. "Jen. You were IT, right, at your old company? What the fuck was that? Some kind of weird-ass hacking attempt?"
Connor stood up so quickly that his chair scooted backward. Mike and Jen both looked at him, and he felt heat rising up his collar. "I'll—I'll be right back—I need to—"
He scooped up his cell phone and bolted for the men's restroom. He did a quick sweep to make sure he was alone, then locked himself in a stall and took out his phone. Change his passwords, that was the first thing. The hacker hadn't said he couldn't change the passwords on his own phone, right? But first… He swiped his thumb across the screen and navigated straight to his photos and deleted the video.
The phone buzzed in his hand, and he almost dropped it. The caller ID said 'Your New Friend' was calling. Fuck. No. The call went to voicemail before he could decide to answer it, and a text from Your New Friend popped up.
Answer your phone, Connor.
He barely had time to read it before the phone buzzed again. "H—hello?"
"I've already downloaded and saved the video. Deleting it from your phone isn't going to help you."
"I—I already gave you my login."
"Did I forget to say thank you? Thank you, Connor. But although I will be making very good use of your login, I was more interested in how easily you surrendered it. Do you always surrender so easily? Let's test that."
Connor sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, his legs suddenly feeling shaky.
"The first thing I did with your login was give myself access to the security cameras. I know you're in the restroom right now. Are you inside a stall? I bet you are. There's something I want you to do for me while you're inside that stall. I want you to pull down your pants and text me a picture of your cock."
Connor's throat closed, and for a second, he couldn't breathe. "I…I can't…I—"
"It's not like I haven't seen your cock before, Connor. Pull down your pants, text me a picture. Do it now."
There wasn't an explicit threat this time. There didn't need to be. His hands shaking, Connor undid the button at the top of his jeans and unzipped. He pushed his pants and boxers down just far enough to pull out his cock. He held the phone over it, hesitating a few seconds, then took a photo. He sent it to Your New Friend.
"Good, Connor. Now you can go back to your desk. Unless you came in here to pee, rather than just hide. Did you come in here to pee?"
A hard shudder went through Connor. "No, no…I don't need to—I just—"
"Then go back to your desk. Right now. And remember, I have access to the company's cameras now. I'll be watching you."
The call disconnected, and Connor stood up, tucking his cock back in his pants and zipping up. He'd lied, he did have to piss, but he'd had an uncomfortable feeling that telling the man that would have led to something that…gods. He didn't even want to think about it.
He returned to his desk and tried to work, but couldn't stop himself from glancing up at the camera closest to his desk every few minutes. Was he being watched right now? Was the man going to watch him all day? He wouldn't, right? I mean, whoever he was, he had to actually have a life.
Connor squirmed in his chair. It was almost time for lunch, and he did have to fucking pee.
His cell phone buzzed on his desk, and he jolted, knocking his knee against the desk leg. An incoming call from Your New Friend was displayed on the lock screen. "H—hello?"
"Do you take your lunch at noon, Connor? And where do you normally take it?"
Connor's skin was prickling all over, like he'd stumbled into a thicket of nettles. "I—yes. At noon. And I…take it in the breakroom."
The man sighed. "The breakroom doesn't work for me. No cameras, and probably, too many people. Give me a minute."
The phone went silent against his ear for a minute, then the man's voice said, "There's an empty room on the fourth floor. A conference room, I think. No windows, but there is a camera. You're going to take your lunch there today."
Connor hunched over his desk. "W-why?"
"Because if you don't, embarrassing things are going to start happening to you, Connor. Stand up, lock your computer screen, and go to the fourth floor. Don't forget your lunch."
Connor stood up. He reached into his bottom drawer, his phone still pressed against his ear, and walked over to the elevator, glancing up at the nearest camera as he passed underneath it. The breakroom was to his left. The elevator was to his right.
He turned right.
"Good, Connor," the man said. "Keep going."
Fuck. He really was watching. There was a camera in the elevator, too, and Connor's gaze kept flicking to it, flicking away, his entire body tense. When the elevator opened on the fourth floor, he took a quick look around to see if anyone was there before he stepped out.
"You're acting suspicious," the man said. "Anyone who saw you would think you're up to something. But you're just going to eat lunch privately, and there's nothing wrong with using an empty conference room to eat your lunch, is there, Connor?"
There was a camera above him, and Connor looked up at it and shook his head.
"Now you're catching on. It's the third door on your right."
The room was empty except for a long table, a dying houseplant in the corner, and a stack of chairs. Connor set his lunch bag down on the table, then hesitated.
"Go ahead and eat your lunch," the man said. He sounded amused. "But position the chair to face the camera. I'll call you back when you're finished."
The phone disconnected, and Connor laid it down on the table beside his lunch. He pulled a chair off the stack, set it down with its back to the table, and sat down. His lunch today was a basic sandwich, and he tried to eat it slowly, but he was too fucking hyper-aware of the camera looking down at him, too aware of his every movement, every expression, the way he probably had lettuce stuck in his teeth and couldn't see it. And also, hyper-aware of how full his bladder was. And the instant he crumpled his napkin back into the empty bag, his phone buzzed.
"You have to pee, don't you, Connor? That's why you keep squirming. You lied to me in the restroom."
Connor felt the burn rising up his neck. "No—I—"
"Don't keep lying to me. What are you afraid of? That I'm going to make you take out your cock right here and piss in your water bottle?"
The burn was in his cheeks now. "I—I don't know what you might do. I don't know who you are. I don't know why you're doing this."
There was a slight pause. "Why am I doing this?" the man repeated. "Because I want to. Because I can. And because I can't quite tell from this camera angle, but I'm pretty fucking sure you have at least a semi happening in your pants right now."
Connor's thighs tightened, his free hand dropping to his lap. "I—I don't."
"Prove it," the man said. "Show me."
"Show you? Here?" Connor looked up at the camera. It wasn't just the man who had access to these cameras. The entire IT department did. Managers did.
"I have the footage in this particular room restricted to my eyes only," the man said, as though he could read Connor's mind. "No one will notice an empty conference room dropping off the feeds. Go on. Drop your pants. Show me that you're soft, and I'll hang up, and this will be the last time you'll ever hear from me."
Connor dropped his gaze from the camera. "I…I can't…" His voice was a low, reluctant whisper. "But I'm only—it's because I have to pee."
The man laughed. "Connor. You can keep on pretending that you're only complying with my commands because I'm blackmailing you, or you can just surrender to this. To me. I mean, that video. It was a pretty clear indication of where your interests lie."
If Connor's face got any hotter, his hair was going to burst into flame. "Please. Just let me go. Stop—stop calling me."
"Stand up, Connor."
Connor stood up.
"Now lay your phone on the chair, face the camera, and take off your clothes. All of your clothes. And when you're naked, pick up the phone."
Hands shaking, Connor laid the phone down on the chair. He fumbled the buttons on his shirt, trapped his hands in his cuffs when he forgot to undo the buttons at his wrists. The button above his fly was easier; he unzipped and pushed the pants down his legs, stepped out of them, kicking off his shoes as he did. The man had already seen his cock, he reminded himself as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. And he was alone in this room. The man couldn't…touch him, couldn't do anything to him, really, except embarrass him. His boxers fell around his ankles, and he stepped out of them. Lastly, he bent, skinned off his socks, and then picked up his phone, pressing it against his ear.
"That isn't even a semi anymore, Connor. That is a full-on erection. When did you last ejaculate?"
"I…I don't…"
"Because your video was dated a week ago, and I hope for your sake it wasn't that long."
"Last…night."
"You masturbated?"
Connor glared up at the camera, despite his burning face. "Yes."
"I could ask you to masturbate for me right now, couldn't I, Connor? Tell you to stand there, facing the camera, and make yourself spurt. And I'm absolutely certain you would."
Connor didn't answer. He couldn't. And he hoped—fervently—that the camera's resolution wasn't good enough to pick up the way his dick had just twitched.
"But you're telling me that you're hard just because you need to piss. So let's test that, Connor." The man paused. "Plus, I've watched you jack yourself off in the video, but me watching you pee is a cherry we haven't popped yet."
Connor's breath caught in a ragged little gasp. "I—I can't—"
"Because you have a shy bladder or because you're naked in a conference room with no en-suite bathroom? Go dump out your water bottle in that houseplant. The poor thing looks like it needs it."
Connor didn't move. His legs were locked in place, alternating waves of heat and ice-cold traveling across his skin.
"Connor. Go dump out your water bottle. Or I'll open the feed from this conference room to anyone with camera access. I think I can even loop it onto those large screens—"
"No. Don't." Connor snatched up his water bottle. He crossed the room, his cock bobbing embarrassingly, and unscrewed the lid, pouring the water out into the barren circle of dirt. Instead of sinking in, it overflowed the pot, dampening the carpet and his toes. He brought the empty bottle back to the camera and stood with it awkwardly in his hand.
"You know what I want to see," the man said. "Come on, it's just a camera. It's not like I'm standing right beside you, watching over your shoulder."
Connor shuddered.
He laid the phone down, then stood for a long moment, the water bottle in one hand and his cock in the other, trying to convince himself he wasn't actually going to do this. Wasn't going to piss on command like a—a dog. But he needed to piss, and he—he needed this job, and he had no doubt whatsoever that just the video would be enough to get him fired if management saw the uncensored version.
And then there was this. This moment right now. Because he knew the man wasn't just watching Connor stand here with his cock in his hand—he also recording it. So Connor had no choice, really.
Connor angled the opening of the bottle, sliding the head of his cock into it. He closed his eyes at first, pretending he was at home in his shower, that he just hadn't turned the water on yet, and if he shifted even an inch to the left, the shower curtain would catch and cling against his wet skin—a constant annoyance in his tiny bathroom.
The first splash of piss almost caught him off guard and the bottle slipped between his fingers. He caught it, holding it tighter as the clear plastic filled, warming against his palm.
He filled almost the entire bottle, then held it up defiantly to the camera as he pressed the phone back to his ear. "H-happy now, you bastard? Are we done now?"
"You can put your clothes back on," the man said. "But I want you to put the lid on that water bottle and put it on your desk, where everyone can see it."
"What? No!"
"There are lots of yellow drinks, Connor. Go back to your desk. As long as that bottle is sitting out in plain sight, I'll leave you alone. The rest of today, anyway. We'll have to see what happens tomorrow."
The man hung up, and Connor dressed as quickly as he could, tucking his erection into the least obvious position he could find and holding his lunch bag and water bottle in front to further disguise the bulge in his pants.
He put the water bottle on his desk and finished the rest of the day with a lingering erection, unable to concentrate on even the simplest of tasks. When it was five, he gathered up his things and punched out, speedwalking to his car and driving out of the parking lot as though he wasn't bringing his phone—and potentially the man—home with him.
It was a twenty-minute drive to his apartment, and halfway there, he pulled over into a scrubby abandoned lot, unzipped his pants, and masturbated in hard, furtive jerks of his hand. He came hard, splattering the steering wheel, then finished driving home.
It was over. It was over, right? The man had gotten access to the company's computers; he'd had his fun tormenting Connor. Connor was almost certain he'd never get another call or text. What else could the man possibly want?
It had to be over.