𝐅 𝐀 𝐖 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇 - Prologue pt 2
MINORS DNI 18+ FIC
You’ve always liked the idea of having a dominant partner - BDSM was something you’ve read about, watched videos about.
Something you made Pinterest boards and aesthetic tumblr posts about when you were 18 and curious, the idea always sounded nice, but you’ve never done it in practice, not really. Sure you bought fuzzy handcuffs at a gag gift store once, but that didn’t really count.
You’re still a virgin.
You’ve always had that chronically awkward, workaholic type of vibe that made typical dating near impossible at worst and frustrating at best. Normal dating apps have proven fruitless and agitating. So poor curious little you talked yourself into making a fetlife account. You weren’t looking for true love, but at least you could get laid.
DM Request from: 10:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello, Fawn.”
College was for new experiences after all.
CW: BDSM heavy/centric fic. Safe, Sane & Consensual. Miguel is your professor, but you both don't know that. Age Gap (Y/N is 23, Miguel is mid 30's)
TAG: @slut4oscarissac23
PART 1 - PART 3
It’s been a week since you met Web. You’ve gotten into the routine he provided after you confirmed he expected you to start instantly. Thankfully, your summer job is walkable and makes the whole hour of exercise he’d demanded - so it isn’t much of a change in routine.
He isn’t pleased that your idea of meals is usually whatever frozen nuggets you have in the fridge or whatever you and your roommates decide to swing by to, but there’s only so much you can do on a college budget, and he begrudgingly accepts that fact after some discussion.
You wake with a groan, still entangled in your gray duvet. You had opted for a daybed for your tiny room and it means you often sleep with your nose touching the wall and your limbs curled close to you, fetal position.
For a long moment, you consider heading back to bed. Your hands search down your body and across your bed for the phone. You pull the damn thing out from under your hip and flip it over in your hand.
Web asks you to download something called ‘Telegram’ - it doesn’t log pictures or anything for that matter, according to him. You find you even have a few contacts saved that used it. You discover your cousin is a furry, but you aren’t going to tell him that.
Web’s icon is what you’d expect, really - a red web. His number is fake - surprising to exactly nobody. He was clearly more tech savvy than you. When you had visualized an ideal dominant - Web checked too many boxes. At first you considered ghosting him, anxiety ate you up.
But you also crave his attention - maybe you’re more lonely than you thought. You find yourself waiting for his messages and bouncing at the attention. You’ve developed a habit of staying up too late waiting to see if he’ll pop back online again.
So you click open your phone, ignoring Facebook, Instagram, whatever, and click open the small blue icon to Telegram.
9:13 AM - WebRigger2099 - “Good Morning.”
“ I slept in… Sorry. Just saw this. Morning. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:15 PM
1:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Slept in until 1pm? Up late?”
“ Roommates were loud, so I watched netflix. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:19 PM
1:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Maybe when summer is over you’ll be able to get proper sleep at my place.”
“ That sounds nice. We’ll have to see. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:19 PM
1:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I can set up a dog bed at the foot of mine. I’d make sure you were comfortable, but you’d have to wake me to go to the bathroom. The leash would keep you bound to bed.”
“ And here I thought we’d snuggle. :p ” - Fawnteeth - 1:20 PM
1:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Yes, but you have to earn the bed for sleeping at night. Incentives keep you from growing complacent.”
“ You really do know what you’re doing. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:21 PM
“ Any free time today? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:21 PM
1:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I work from home during the summer and practically make my own hours. It’s a quiet day.”
“ Can I ask what you do? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:21 PM
1:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Yes, but I won’t answer.”
“ Mysterious. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:22 PM
1:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “If you guess correct you might earn a treat, pup.”
“ How many tries do I get? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:22 PM
1:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “We’ll say three.”
“ Banker? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:22 PM
1:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No. Every time you get it incorrect, you’ll answer a question of mine, how’s that sound?”
“ That's not very fair. :c ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM
1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I never said it would be.”
“ Fine. Ask away. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM
1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “When was the last time you touched yourself, Fawn?”
“ Oh. These kind of questions. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM
1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Is that a complaint I hear?”
“ No. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM
1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Well?”
“ The night after we spoke the first time. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM
1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Excited you, did I?”
“ Yes, sir. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM
1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. You remembered the rule. No ‘maybe’s, only ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”
“ I’m trying my best. It’s not like it’s fun being a brat at the start. I gotta learn your buttons. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM
1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You must be a glutton for punishment. Did you see the cane marks I left on some of the girls in my photo album?”
“ I did. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM
1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Did it excite you, Fawn?”
You huff, rolling onto your other side on the bed.
“ ...Yes. When do I get to guess again? >:c ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM
1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I never said you couldn’t. You’re just answering free questions.”
“ Mean. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM
1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Exceptionally. You have to earn ‘nice’.”
“ I don’t know why I find you so charming. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM
“ Librarian? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM
1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Wrong. And many submissives find comfort in pain and punishment.”
“ you seem like the librarian type. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM
1:25 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Because you think I’d spank you with a ruler if you made too much noise?”
“ I don’t think a ruler would hurt very much. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM
1:25 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You haven’t had one break on your skin then. I’ve left bruises with them before.”
“ I sure haven’t. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM
1:25 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ll have to bring one someday, then. And a crop. Anything else you’d like me to mark you with?”
“ Let me think about it. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM
“ Personal trainer? You have the body for it. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM
1:25 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Isn’t that what I’m doing to you? It doesn’t pay very well, but I don’t have any complaints about the benefits so far.”
“ I mean. I guess? You haven’t asked me to work out, plus I hear the right clients means you could make bank. So you are a personal trainer? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:26 PM
1:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I did tell you to exercise an hour a day. Did you forget?”
“ Not completely. I walk. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:26 PM
1:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No, I’m not a personal trainer. Ready for my last two questions?”
“ Yes. :c I thought I was right… ” - Fawnteeth - 1:26 PM
1:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Afraid not.”
1:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “When you masturbated the night we first spoke, what did you imagine?”
“ A bit of what you could look like. Putting myself into one of your photos. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM
1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Do you like the idea of me showing you off for everyone to see? Your face covered of course, like the rest.”
“ I sure don’t mind the idea. Do most girls say no? I see you haven’t taken any photos in like 7 years. ” - Fawnteeth - 11:27 PM
1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ve been busy. Started again recently.”
“ Ohhh. I see. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM
1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Would you like to practice?”
“ Practice? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM
1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Posing for my photos.”
“ Can I see you too? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM
1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Fair is fair.”
“ Your profile pic leaves most to the imagination. Well. Below the belt, I guess. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM
1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s what you want to see, is it? You’ll need to earn it.”
“ Call me curious. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM
1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ll need to follow my instructions for posing, Fawn. Listening?”
“ Yes. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:28 PM
1:28 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ll take a picture of every step to prove you’re following along. Understood?”
“ Okay. Let me lock my door. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:28 PM
You need a gameplan. Checking for your roommates, you pop your head out of your door, listening hard. You can hear your roommate Kore’s music - some pop medley that she’s sewing to. Good.
You don’t hear anyone else, so everybody else must be out. You… try not to think about what Taylor or Aurora could be up to.
Sticking your head back in, you close the door. moving to click the lock shut. You check the door, only for it to open with the slightest tug. Glancing at the lock, you frown, flicking it on and off to see no little ‘lock’ mechanism come out.
Shit… You fucking hate your landlord.
You glance around your room - you are not doing this with your door unlocked. You grew up with half a dozen siblings and strict parents - you know how to improvise. Grabbing the circular chair piled with clothes, you push it to the door and force the metal under your door knob. Hands on your hips, you nod at the handiwork.
Good enough.
Snatching up your phone, you frown, kicking away most of your discarded clothes and random papers.You really need to clean your room, but you decide you’d do it later.
Right now, you have other priorities.
Said priority seems to know just when you sit down, the telegram notification lighting up your screen as if you’ve summoned him by pure thought alone. Think of the devil…
1:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Having trouble?”
“ No. All good now. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:46 PM
1:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Get a marker.”
You frown, then glance at your backpack. You trot over and search through it, tossing a few pens and your pencil case in frustration.
In the end you find a single purple sharpie.
You click open your phone.
“ Does the color matter? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:46 PM
1:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No. It just needs to be visible on your skin.”
“ Kay. Got it then. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:46 PM
1:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Take your clothes off. Bra and panties can stay on.”
You glance up at your phone and stare at yourself in the mirror.
Your hair is a bit of a mess - that’s fine.
You glance at your sleep shirt, it’s old and the hem is frayed on the sleeves, the little bunny screen printed onto it is mostly faded. You knew you weren’t wearing a bra, so you glanced around your room till you spotted one laying limply on the floor. Tossing off your top and discarding it wherever it landed.
Pulling the bra on, you take a deep breath, glancing at yourself again in the mirror. You feel yourself hesitating. You’ve taken nudes before, what about this makes it different?
Web makes it different. Him telling you to take these for him makes it different. You slip off your shorts and realize you’re wet. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment.
Still, your phone is in your hand again, you flick it open and type away.
“Kay.” - Fawnteeth - 1:50 PM
1:50 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Where is my proof, Fawn? I told you to take pictures. Are you trying to get punished?”
You bite your lip.
“ No. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:50 PM
You need your face mask - the one you wore in all your photos is easy to find. You wrap the thing around your nose and mouth. You know you’re going to crop out your face anyway, but it makes you feel better.
Like you’re pretending to be someone else. You supposed you aren’t you anymore - you’re Fawn. Fawn doesn’t struggle with nudes. Fawn takes great nudes.
You glance at yourself in the mirror. You end up trying a few poses, trying to not put emphasis on your long legs or stomach rolls. You settle on your knees - back slightly arched, one hand splayed on your thigh. Not too lewd.
You snap the photo, shifting your body a bit as you take another. The routine continues a few more times before you pause to look at the photos.
You decide the second one is the best. You move to crop as much of the background out as you can, including your face. Wisps of your hair remain around your neck but that’s fine. Whatever. Good enough.
You hesitate for a moment, finger lingering on the send button.
What if he doesn’t like it? What if he decides he doesn’t like you? You cringe at the thought. You send the photo and close your phone instantly.
[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:55 PM
You hear it ping and slowly click the screen back on.
1:52 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Has anyone told you you’re beautiful today, Fawn?”
You blush.
“ Now someone has. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:52 PM
1:52 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Write it on yourself. We wouldn’t want you to forget if I’m busy and can’t tell you tomorrow morning.”
“ Okay. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:55 PM
You take a deep breath, grabbing the purple sharpie from beside your knee. Biting down on the cap, you frown, glancing over the expanse of skin thoughtfully.
How the hell do you write backwards…. You’ll flip the image before you send it.
It’s embarrassing how long you pause, you stare at the pen and your skin. You come to the sad realization this is the first time a man has called you beautiful like… ever.
You’re smart enough to realize he’s trying to build you up. God, he knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?
You settle with scribbling the world carefully onto your right thigh. You don’t use the mirror for the photo this time, taking it directly.
[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:55 PM
1:55 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Again.”
You consider asking him where. After considering for a moment, you scribble ‘beautiful’ on your other thigh. It’s not huge and written towards your knee, but it’s readable.
[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:56 PM
1:56 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Keep going.”
You wonder where - not your thighs again you decide. After some effort you manage to scribble it carefully above your panty waistband, crawling from your hip and across your stomach.
This time you have to use the mirror. You settle back into that kneeling pose and take a few shots.
You pick the favorite, flipping it so the text can actually be read. You crop it again, cutting off your shoulders and part of your arm.
[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:57 PM
1:57 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good. That’s enough.”
“ Here I expected something lewd. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:57 PM
1:57 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Now pull your panties to the side and show me your pussy.”
Your cunt throbs, making your thighs snap together. He isn’t even talking, it it’s words on a fucking screen . It’s unfair how effortlessly arousing Web is.
You could say no. You don’t think he’d be upset if you said no. He had spoken a dozen times over about consent in the past week, reaffirming to you that if you thought it was too much that you were welcome to say so. All it took was you typing yellow or red.
You don’t.
“ Mkay. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:58 PM
You end up sitting back on your ass, legs apart. You see the dark mark on your panties in between your legs. You almost shutter pulling the cloth aside. You feel your slickness on your fingers and wipe it away with your inner thigh.
You see yourself through your phone, legs spread and the hints of the words written on your thighs make you freeze.
You settle with closing your eyes to take the picture. You don’t crop it this time - but your face is still missing from the shot regardless. Just a hint of the black cloth over your chin. Your face is warm both from your cheeks and your breath now.
You click send and wait patiently for his reply.
[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:58 PM
It comes instantly.
1:58 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Now shove the marker inside.”
Your eyes widen.
1:58 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Take a picture so I can see all the writing and the marker inside you.”
You grab the top of the marker and cap it, flipping it in your fingers.
“ I’ll try. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:59 PM
The marker is cold. You cringe as you press it against your overheated pussy, flinching as you run it along your opening. After a deep breath you slip it into your opening. You couldn’t exactly feel it - it was more like your fingers.
You’ve never bought a toy, knowing your roommates would rip the package open to see what you ordered, nosy as they are, and it’s not like you could order it to your childhood home. There are some things even you know better than to do.
Slowly, you kneel again, your hips up in the air as you see the small white and purple thing in between your thighs.
The last time you took a nude was before college. You chickened out of sending it to your boyfriend at the time. Now you’re just thankful you never got to second base with him.
You take the picture, eyes closed again. Like that somehow made what you were doing more modest and less slutty.
Is it slutty? It’s not like you’re sending it to anyone but Web. But also… who is Web?
[photo] - Fawnteeth - 2:02 PM
2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ Good girl. I’m posting this as an album on my page for everyone to see. I’ll blur the background for your privacy, and you already have your mask on.”
“ I thought this was supposed to be practice? :’c ” - Fawnteeth - 2:03 PM
You slip the marker from yourself and put your panties back on correctly. You cringe at the cold wetness.
2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I find it best to practice by doing.”
“ I guess that makes sense. It’s the first time I’ve sent that to anyone on here. Can you keep the one with my crotch in it private? ” - Fawnteeth - 2:03 PM
2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You did good. Lighting and the perfect background are nice, but it's not realistic. Not everyone has perfectly angled windows and lamps to make shots. This is raw. Vulnerable. And yes, I can keep those two private.”
“ Thanks. My room is kinda a mess… You’re nice, Web. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:03 PM
2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Just respectful, and not that much. You have low bars, Fawn. Careful someone doesn’t take advantage of them.”
“ You haven’t. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:03 PM
2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You just shoved a marker up your cunt for me without even questioning it.”
“ I think you’d be fine if I had said no. When do I get to see it? ” - Fawnteeth - 2:04 PM
2:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I suppose you earned it.”
His hands are huge, his chest is broad and clearly the same guy in the photo… and…
Your eyes widen at his dick. The sweatpants bulge in his profile pic is a fucking beast. You had asked him how long it was before, shyly, and he said eight inches. Sheepishly, you told yourself you’d fetch a ruler to see what that would be like in person.
You’d been too nervous to follow through.
He’s wide, too, his log-like member swollen with arousal. The dark brown skin fades to a milder tan as your eyes finally leave his bulge, trailing up the muscular torso. You swear you see a bead of sweat running down his abs, but you realize that it's yours .
You’re sweating, forehead moist, wiping away the rest with a glide of the back of your hand.
Like all the pictures he had of himself in his gallery, the picture cuts off at the beginning of his neck. This one also cuts off near the knees at the bottom.
“ Jesus christ. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:07 PM
“ Did I do that?. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:07 PM
2:07 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Would you be proud of yourself if you did?”
“ I’d feel special. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:07 PM
2:08 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’re special, Fawn. Do you know what I would do if you were in front of me right now?”
You sink on your thighs as his words. ‘You’re special’ makes you almost tear up. You’re absolutely charmed by him.
Slowly, you lay on the floor, hovering your phone above your face. It’s hard not to grin, chewing your lip red as you think over your reply.
“ No, can you tell me? ” - Fawnteeth - 2:08 PM
You feel accomplished at that. You’re being so smooth and cool.
You wait patiently, crossing your legs and bouncing one of them in the air.
He doesn’t reply. You feel sweat gathering at the back of your neck. You move from lounging casually to sat cross legged before your mirror. You debate sending another message.
You do not send another message - that would make you look desperate, and you are definitely not desperate. That has to be a massive turnoff anyways - after all, he knows what he’s doing, he’s incredibly attractive and hung. He’s probably so sure of himself. Pestering him would just annoy him.
It isn’t even five minutes you wait before you decide to do anything but stare at your phone. You change into loose pajama pants and toss your shamefully wet panties into the laundry hamper.
You’re halfway through cleaning your room when you hear it.
Your phone pings and, embarrassingly, you drop the bra you were holding to rush for your bed. Feeling like a kid on christmas, your fingers shake as you punch in your passcode and pull up the notification.
2:15 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’m sorry. I have to go for a few hours.”
Your stomach sinks. You think you might be sick.
“ Oh. Okay. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:15 PM
2:15 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I can message you again tonight after 8.”
“ I’ll hold you to that. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:15 PM
Okay. It isn’t your fault, right? Something’s very clearly up with his life.
Frowning, you force yourself take a deep breath to calm yourself.
You investigate his picture, his bedroom is neat and simple. It’s clearly not a hotel room - it’s got some personal cozy touches and you can see some brick outside the window behind his shoulder. The sheets are messy and the blankets are mismatched. He’s probably just some normal guy, maybe he works in an office and just likes his body.
And… bondage.
Y’know - average weird secret pervert things. Hopefully he isn’t married . You didn’t see a ring on either of his hands or even an indent from one he might have taken off for the photos.
Your eyes eventually drift to the marker discarded on your floor, the end still slick. If he was some kind of weird pervert, what does that just make you?
You look down at your stomach and the small ‘beautiful’ written carefully on it. You need to take a shower and get this off.
You sneak through the house with a change of clothes and your nice shampoo you don’t share with anyone. Your house has one bathroom with a half decent shower, technically being a 2 ½ bath house.
You don’t like the other bathroom that Kore and Babette mostly use. It only has a bathtub - the shower head doesn’t work.
You hop in the shower and are horrified at your discovery. It’s not coming off. The writing doesn’t come off with the dove soap or Aurora’s washing puff. Not even scratching it with your nails does anything but vaguely fade it.
Great.
You try your best to not freak out. You’ll dress like it’s winter until you can wash it off your skin. You should have asked Web if you should use a sharpie.
You wash your hair and dry off the best you can. Thankfully, your loose shorts and loose t-shirt hide the marks as long as you don't let the shorts ride up your thighs too much.
You return to your room and move your chair back into its place. You don’t have work today and you can hear the movement that told you one of your roomies had just gotten home.
Your stomach growls.
You’re hungry - three meals, you remind yourself, Web always somewhere close to the front of your mind. Technically this would your first meal, you did just wake up and… fuck. Anxiously, you tug down your pajama shorts. Lesson learned, that shit doesn’t come off in the shower. You make a note to ask Web for a marker to get that does wash off.
You find yourself questioning why some random faceless man on the internet is the motivation you have to take care of yourself. Shaking away the thought, you explore the tiny freezer stuffed with mostly frozen chicken nuggets. You frown, debating ordering takeout again. You settle on boiling noodles and smothering them in pesto and salt.
You head out to the living room - the room is eternally cluttered like the rest of your college house. The ceiling light doesn’t work, so you and your roomies had hung fairy lights everywhere. The drapes are pulled back to let light in - the lesbian flag with markiplier’s face on it in full display to the whole neighborhood. Four couches meant you had plenty of space to sit, falling in the far corner from the only other person in the room - Aurora.
The bubbly blonde is chomping away at her food, phone propped up on the stained coffee table as some sort of video plays. You eat while listening to something about a person named ‘illuminaughty’.
Aurora looked up from her bowl of fruit loops from the couch, she smiled through a mouthful, cheeks as stuffed as a chipmunk. "Mornin'!" she grinned, never one for table manners.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her arm, "You slept in late."
Her eyes looked you up and down, a perfectly tweezed eyebrow raising to look at your leg. "Were you drawing on yourself?"
You looked down, a purple "L" in sharpie just barely poking out of your shorts. You feel a chill go down your spine. You are fucking mortified.
"Uh...yeah," you say quickly, your brain scrambling for a moment to make up some lie. You couldn't just confess that you'd written on yourself and shoved the marker up your pussy just because a man you didn't even know the name of told you too. "Got bored last night, y'know."
Aurora shrugs, thankfully dropping the subject as she turns her attention back to her bowl of sugar cereal.
You promptly get, desperately pretending that she didn’t notice your sexy leg writing, and power walk to your bedroom. It takes effort to not slam the door.
You stay in your room for the rest of the day because you sure as fuck aren’t hanging around your roomies now. Aurora would question you again - it’s Aurora, and you can’t exactly explain away wearing long pants in June.
So you break out your laptop and watch Delicious in Dungeon. You always have a habit of marathoning random shows on Netflix and it passes the time better than staring at the wall, waiting for Web to message you.
You got popcorn as a snack, maybe you’d eat weird monster food too. Senshi does make it look delicious. You chuckle, realizing the name matches.
Hours passed and the sun is barely setting before you consider taking a nap.
8:00 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello Fawn.”
You sit up and snatch your phone up at the ping.
“ Hey. Everything good? ” - Fawnteeth - 8:00 PM
8:00 PM - WebRigger2099 - “It’s fine, just a sudden schedule change. Things moved up quicker than I expected, but I should be done for the night.”
“ Okay. Well… You never answered my question, Web. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:01 PM
“ Also. How do I get sharpie off my skin. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:01 PM
8:01 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Oh Fawn…”
“ I thought I could scrub it off, if I’m honest. I figured… you.. might… know… ” - Fawnteeth - 8:02 PM
8:02 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I do, but maybe I should let you keep it on until it fades normally. A lesson to be more careful. Better this than something more serious.”
“ I should have figured as much. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:02 PM
8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’m just glad you didn’t shove it deeper. You can’t put things inside without a flare, it’ll get stuck. I didn’t realize I needed to explain things like that to you, but I know better now.”
“ I know that. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:03 PM
8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “But not that permanent markers are hard to remove.”
“ Yes. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:03 PM
8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Fawn you are delightfully foolish.”
“ I’m glad you enjoy my suffering. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:03 PM
8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I enjoy your happiness too.”
“ You’re good with words. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:03 PM
8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Better with my hands, but you’ll learn that later.”
“ I’ll make sure to keep that in mind. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM
“ Well. Now that I’ve made myself a fool, I hope I haven’t turned you off. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM
8:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hardly. I believe we left off before at ‘what I would do to you if I was there’.”
“ Thank you for mentioning it so.. I didn’t have to bring it up again. I’m still quite curious. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM
8:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You remember the picture I sent you?”
“ I do. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM
8:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I want you to order something. I’ll pay, naturally, but I figure it would be more comfortable if I didn’t know your address so quickly.”
“ Yeah. I think that would take some time. A toy? ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM
8:05 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I have a list. Run away with the money and you won’t hear my answer.”
“ I won’t. But are you sure you want to invest anything in me yet? ” - Fawnteeth - 8:05 PM
8:05 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ve invested at least 3 days in me with that marker.”
“ True enough. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:05 PM
8:06 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’m comfortable financially. This isn’t the hit it might be for a girl your age. You’ve earned some nice things.”
“ Oh. I see. Thank you. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:06 PM
8:06 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No using them without my permission, understood?”
“ Understood, sir. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:06 PM
He sends you the link to an adult website. Your cheeks flush as your screen is filled with all sorts of sex toys and other lewd imagery. Your eyes flicker to your door for a moment, anxiety simmering low in your belly as the thought of someone walking into your room and seeing what you were looking at flashes through your mind. You bite your lip, feeling like a nervous teenager under your father’s roof once again.
You notice that the cart has been pre filled with a number of items: A 6 inch silicone dildo; a Lovense egg vibrator; nipple clamps; a rabbit vibrator; a bottle of water-based lube; and a set of black lingerie that matches your face mask.
Your eyes linger on the cart total. That’s more than your paycheck .
“ You sure? ” - Fawnteeth - 8:09 PM
8:09 PM - WebRigger2099 - “If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have sent you the link. There is a gift card code: HGJ-8734-KHW. It’ll cover the expenses and leave a little extra for you to browse and select one or two items that catch your interest.”
“ Okay. Thank you. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:09 PM
8:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’re welcome, Fawn. I take care of my pets.”
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This account, first published in JewishNews, is written by an anonymous London-based Guardian employee who has family living on a kibbutz in southern Israel. It offers a look at life in the newspaper’s offices in the days since Hamas’s attack on Israel.
I wake up on October 7 to a text from my brother-in-law: “Thoughts are with your family in Israel. I hope everyone is safe.”
I check the news. Hamas has entered southern Israel. They’re in a kibbutz. My partner’s family is in that kibbutz. His cousin is nine months pregnant. He’s in contact with them; they’re in the safe room. Terrorists are outside.
I check social media. Reports of hostages, maybe three. I check again; perhaps ten.
There has been a massacre at a music festival. I look at the video. Who do I know there? I check social media again; there are videos of hostages. I look at their faces. Do I know them?
We lose contact with family in the kibbutz. I tell myself that the phone lines are down because the IDF are there. I watch Hamas footage as it is coming out. I go on Telegram for the first time in my life and I see a room full of bodies covered in blood. I see children gunned down. I see the bodies of raped women. I see families holding each other as Hamas livestreams atrocities. I look for people I might know.
My partner and I walk 30,000 steps. There’s nothing we can do. Late that evening we hear that his family is safe but their house is gone, neighbors are dead.
I don’t understand. I could have easily been there and part of me thinks I was.
I look at the papers the next day. The newspaper I work for has a tank on the front page: ‘Hundreds die and hostages held as Hamas assault shocks Israel’—victorious terrorists hold a Palestinian flag. The subheading reads ‘Netanyahu declares war as 150 Israelis die. 230 Palestinians killed in air strikes.’
I don’t understand. I know people, Israelis, who were murdered. They did not “die,” as if in some kind of accident. I saw footage of terrorism. It was not an “assault.”
The front page of The Observer, The Guardian’s sister Sunday newspaper, on October 8, the day after the Hamas massacre. (via The Observer)
On Sunday, we get more information about what happened to my partner’s family, about how Hamas set the family’s house on fire when they thought it was empty, how my partner’s cousin screamed for her life when the room filled with smoke, how her husband had to pin her down to stop her cries, how Hamas laughed when they realized the family would need to crawl out of the room, how they refused to leave the burning building. We hear that they somehow survived and walked out through pools of their neighbors’ blood, pieces of dead children littering the street; kids who’d been playing on a Saturday morning.
I’m safe, I’m fine, but I can’t comprehend the color of the sky or the rustle of the trees. I look around at people enjoying their Sunday and I think: Do they not know what is happening? I check the news again and see there are more hostages. I look through the names.
There are still terrorists in Israel.
I listen to the radio, one Israeli interviewee and then one Palestinian. I can hear that the interviewer is struggling as defenders of Hamas justify terrorism. I don’t understand. Is this how they reported the Russian invasion of Ukraine? Did they platform Putin’s people?
I check social media. A friend has posted: “They’ve broken out of jail.” Another has said: “Today is a day of celebration,” and someone else has shared an infographic of “Settler colonialism for beginners.” My old flatmate tells her followers she will be at the demonstration outside the Israeli embassy and she invites people to join her.
On Monday I go to work. How are your family, a colleague asks. When I answer, she squirms. Can’t they just leave, my colleague says. No, they can’t actually.
I look at the morning newsletter for the newspaper I work for. It breaks down the number of dead Palestinian children. It does not mention dead Israeli children.
My group chats are exploding as family and friends work out what has been happening, who is alive. I go back to the news. I type the name of the kibbutz into the wires. Nothing. I read how Hamas invaded “settlements.” They’re not settlements! They’re small, pre-state kibbutzim.
I find out that a friend of a friend was at the music festival and is missing. I’m shaking at work.
I see a colleague who had posted about “decolonization” all over social media over the weekend. They’re laughing with the rest of their team. They’re having a great day. I used to love their podcast, full of hot takes and celeb gossip. Now they’ve evolved into an expert on the Middle East. It doesn’t look like their family is in the middle of it, though.
No one else at work speaks to me about it. I nod my way through conversations about fonts and I stumble home.
I go back the next day. I look at the front page. A photo of Gaza and “violence escalates.” Israelis “dead” but Palestinians “killed.” If they can’t empathize with the Jews now, they never will.
I email the editors. I tell them that my newspaper’s coverage has been upsetting. They tell me that their thoughts are with my family but they stand by the paper’s reporting.
I hear colleagues complaining about the newspaper’s “American readers. They’re always accusing us of antisemitism.” They’re laughing.
I leave work early to go to a vigil outside Downing Street. People quietly weep. Everyone there is Jewish.
I’ve seen on social media that I know people going to a demonstration. Later, I see photos of it: people on lampposts, red flares, Jews hiding inside, the Israeli embassy boxed in. All kinds of people are united in the chant, “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.” In Sydney, they are shouting: “Gas the Jews.”
On Tuesday, I find out that my friend’s friend at the music festival is dead. I remember the day I’d spent with him on the beach in Tel Aviv last month. He’d gotten back from South America and was excited to travel again. He had been gentle and sweet. I don’t understand.
On Wednesday, I go to work again, and the next day, and the next day. Finally, the pictures from the kibbutz come out. I look at all of them. I rewatch the footage. I bear witness. No colleague asks me how I am again that week.
I go to synagogue at the weekend and cry with my community. The rabbi holds space for pain. I say Kaddish for the boy at the music festival I will never talk to again.
Back at work I see someone pointing to a photo of the Israeli flag burning in the newspaper. They laugh, “This is my favorite picture.”
I remember telling my family that when I next went to Israel I’d lie to my colleagues and tell them it was Spain. I’d lie because my colleagues had said to me of Israel: “You gotta go while you still can.”
Now another colleague asks me what I think of Netanyahu. Do I hold him responsible? I explain that I have protested against Netanyahu but the only people responsible for October 7 are Hamas. She keeps asking me about the settlements. I tell her they’re bad but she won’t stop. “Don’t you think Bibi has a lot to do with this?” I ask her if she has family in the region. She does not.
I’m on social media again. Friends share infographics from Jewish Voice for Peace and heavy-hitting images from the Gaza Health Ministry. I don’t disagree with what they’re posting but they said nothing when October 7 happened. I start unfollowing decades-old friends.
In the days that follow, my synagogue receives a bomb threat, my local rail station has photos of missing children ripped off, I hear of more friends of friends who have been killed. I hear of others who are now enlisted. I hear that a synagogue president in America has been stabbed to death and synagogues all over the world have been vandalized and destroyed.
The newspaper I work for is covering the bombardment of Gaza and I watch in horror. I think that Israel must defend itself. Yet when I say this, people will tell me I am justifying the murder of children. They will tell me it is a genocide.
As the events of October 7 draw on collective Jewish memory of pogroms and the Holocaust, the newspaper I work for will dispel that myth, publishing a piece entitled “Israel must stop weaponizing the Holocaust.” Am I wrong to connect our grief today with that of our past?
In the weeks that follow, I will apply for other jobs and speak exclusively to Jewish friends and family. I will hide myself away from the streets of London and the waves of social media.
I will not forget the photos and videos I saw on October 7, but I start to think about how this day will be marked; how my children’s children will take part in a new commemoration, where we will remember not the Romans or the Persians or the Nazis but Hamas, and how we survived.
Intergenerational trauma has been retriggered but now is not the time to dwell on our historical violent oppression. Now is the time to rise up, speak out, and defend our right to exist. Now is not the time for colleagues to dismiss Jewish pain or publish inflammatory op-eds that will spark more violence.
I will keep applying for other jobs.
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