Chapter Text
Peeta Mellark was often exhausted at the end of each work day. His position as a professor and researcher at Capitol University kept him insanely busy, and though he enjoyed his work immensely, he often needed an escape at the end of the night.
As an independently wealthy person who had made a fortune by investing in Bitcoin, Peeta technically had no real reason to go to work each day. His net worth was close to forty million dollars, an impressive sum for a twenty-nine-year-old from a dirt-poor Appalachian coal mining town. He loved academia, however, and was intensely passionate about clean energy, so he continued to work despite his financial status. Teaching gave him a sense of purpose, and he loved passing on knowledge to his students.
Research was Peeta’s true love, though, and had gotten him through many dark days. He had suffered much more in his life than most people knew, and he worked hard to keep his demons hidden from others.
After graduating from high school at sixteen thanks to his IQ of 160 (a fact that classified him as a genius), Peeta had made his way to Capitol University on a full academic scholarship, excited for his collegiate career. The second week of his freshman year, and the night he lost his virginity to his high school sweetheart, however, Peeta had been the victim of a horrific car crash. A drunken truck driver on his way to make a delivery at a major big box retailer had run a red light, instantly hitting the car Peeta was driving.
Peeta’s girlfriend Delly, the only passenger in the vehicle, had been killed on impact. Peeta had suffered only minor injuries, save for the loss of his left leg. He had lost too much blood after a large shard of glass from the windshield had impaled his calf, rendering his leg unsalvageable from the knee down.
Snow Corporation, the owner of the retailer, had immediately and discretely paid Peeta ten million dollars in exchange for an iron clad non-disclosure agreement. At the time, Peeta had been too numb on both pain medicine and loss to realize what had transpired, but several months after the accident, he made a handful of wise investments that doubled his net worth. The money in no way made up for the trauma he had suffered, but it paid for the cost of his medical expenses and then some, in addition to setting him up for life.
While mourning the loss of both his girlfriend and his leg, Peeta had spent months in therapy, adjusting to wearing a prosthetic and dealing with the horrors of the accident. He had missed his entire first semester of college due to his recovery, but afterwards had returned to CU determined to catch up, throwing himself into his education to attempt to forget the suffering he had endured.
After graduating with an undergraduate degree in three years, a nineteen-year-old Peeta had pursued master’s and doctorate degrees, completing them both in five years. By the age of twenty-four, Peeta was a Doctor of Philosophy with an investment portfolio of almost twenty million dollars. He had always been interested in the stock market, and during countless lonely nights in his college dorm had kept an eye on potential investment opportunities. He had invested early on in Bitcoin, making a large sum before he was legally old enough to drink. Subsequent Bitcoin share price increases had allowed him to continue amassing considerable wealth, until he was at a point of having quadrupled his net worth.
Despite his success, however, Peeta was unbearably lonely. Sure, he had friends and family, but he hadn’t so much as touched a woman in a romantic or intimate manner since the night of the car accident. Delly was the first and only woman Peeta had ever kissed or made love to, and though he desperately wished to pursue intimacy again, he had too many mental hang-ups associated with sex to get close to anyone.
Not only was Peeta self-conscious about his prosthetic and how a woman would react to it, but he also equated sex with his last night with Delly. Being close to another woman after all he had gone through was difficult for him to process. He used pornography as a substitute for relationships for years, until one night during a deep internet search he found the perfect solution to his problem: a private night club named Voyeur.
Most evenings, after eating dinner alone in his desolate, too-large mansion, Peeta hopped in his Tesla and made his way to the place he thought of as his sanctuary. Voyeur satisfied a craving Peeta previously had no idea he had: the need to partake in intimacy from a distance. He had too many nightmares associated with losing Delly to be able to connect with a real-life woman again, so joining a club where he could witness others engaging in sex or masturbation from afar had been the perfect solution to his problem.
Most people went to Voyeur because they knew what they wanted, and because they needed to satisfy the craving for a specific kink others didn’t understand. Peeta went to Voyeur because he was fucked in the head, and he at least wanted the best kind of porn available while he pleasured himself. He watched others participate in acts he couldn’t seem to get his mind and body to go through with.
Behind the glass of a one-way window, Peeta could observe others in sexual situations and mentally place himself there with them, or pretend to be them, without having to touch or be touched. From the safety of the private rooms at Voyeur, he could utilize the various oils, creams, and toys available to quench his libido while he stroked himself until he came.
Membership at the $2000 a month establishment (plus fees for each individual performance) was only possible for Peeta due to the settlement money from his accident. It seemed fair to him that Snow Corporation essentially paid his club fees, since the wreck was the very reason Peeta couldn’t bear to be with a woman in the first place. He felt it was only right that they finance the long-lasting effects of the crash after that drunk bastard Cray had ruined his life. Not only had Peeta lost his girlfriend and his leg that night, but he had also lost his ability to partake in closeness, affection, or relationships.
Peeta hadn’t been on a single date since he was sixteen, not wanting to get close to anyone, since the last woman he had loved had been taken from him in brutal fashion. What was the point of being vulnerable and letting someone in if they could so easily be lost?
Voyeur had allowed Peeta to get his sex drive back by putting him in the driver’s seat. Not only could he be an anonymous, casual observer, but he could also pick the performers, environment, wardrobe, and theme of the encounters he paid for. If he wanted to watch a woman pleasure herself in the shower, he could buy a performance for a mere $200. If he wanted to watch a couple make love after going out to dinner, he only had to pay $1500. BDSM performances started at $3000 each and went up in price the more extreme they became. The most expensive item on the menu at the club was a 6 person BDSM gang bang for $9000. Peeta wasn’t one for BDSM and tended to request more “normal” day to day scenarios, staying away from the kinkier options Voyeur offered.
Peeta purchased scenarios he could have seen himself partaking in if his life hadn’t been irrevocably changed the day of his accident. He preferred to watch a woman give her boyfriend head in the back of a movie theater, or a husband and wife on a date night that ended with sex in a night club restroom. He was especially fond of love scenes that took place on couches, such as couples watching a movie at home and having doggy-style sex over the back of the couch. One of his favorite scenes ever was the time he paid to see a couple make love on their kitchen counter in the middle of cooking dinner together. He also enjoyed the seasonal themes Voyeur offered, such as Christmas Eve gift wrapping sex or Trick or Treat kink near Halloween time.
Peeta knew that the couples he watched weren’t romantically together in real life and that they were merely performers doing a job, but he still found it immensely satisfying to pretend.
Voyeur had always found a way to keep things interesting, and even after five years of membership, Peeta had yet to become bored by their offerings. The club employed every type of man or woman Peeta could dream of wanting to observe: every shape, size, nationality, ethnicity, and sexuality he could imagine. He avoided watching blonde women, as they reminded him too much of Delly, but he was fond of observing blonde men, as they often reminded Peeta of himself. He had always preferred to imagine that he was the one pounding into the women in the scenes he purchased, not the male performers. It was the only way he could live with his situation; to pretend that his life was still whole, and that he wasn’t a pathetic, damaged mess.
Despite his awareness of how fucked up his situation was, though, Peeta was long past the point of feeling sorry for himself over his circumstances. He knew that what he was into wasn’t typical, and that most people would be appalled by his kinks. His therapist wasn’t aware of his sexual predilections, and Peeta had never told a soul about his voyeuristic hobby, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had accepted this part of himself long ago, and now made do with the absurd façade of faux intimacy he had found for himself at Voyeur.
Peeta’s membership at the club (and the fact that he frequented the establishment almost every night) was a secret he intended to take to his grave. No one could find out that Peeta Mellark, PhD, tenured professor at the esteemed Capitol University, was a kinky motherfucker who jacked off while watching other men fuck strange women. His entire career would be ruined if his secret became public, the research he had worked so hard on likely losing credibility immediately. It was critical that his secret stay under wraps, forever, lest everything he had worked so hard for come crashing down.
Peeta was grateful that Voyeur’s location and operating strategy were so discrete. There were non-disclosure agreements in place to protect both the club’s patrons and the actors who worked there. The club’s success hinged on the fact that everything was anonymous, and based on that, everyone (both employees and club members) went by a pseudonym.
Effie Trinket, the owner and manager of Voyeur, had purchased a large, secluded mansion in the suburbs of Capitol City ten years prior and turned it into the exclusive underground club. Though purchasing sex or sexual services was expressly forbidden and the club was not a prostitution ring, Effie had been immensely successful with her business. Voyeur wasn’t some run-down strip club where everything was a free-for-all; it was a safe environment with rules and regulations in place to protect everyone involved. Clients watched either through an attached, private room with a one-way window, or from provided chairs in a secluded alcove in each room. Touching the performers was expressly forbidden; doing so would result in immediate loss of one’s membership. Peeta knew of only one instance in which a patron had slept with a performer, and it had resulted in the dismissal of the employee and the permanent removal of the club member. There were no cameras or recording devices of any kind allowed past the front door, and phones were left at the hostess’ desk during check-in.
Effie didn’t mess around when it came to preserving the rules at Voyeur. She ran a tight ship, and Peeta appreciated her attention to detail immensely. Her perfectionism was the main reason Peeta felt comfortable spending so much time and money at the club.
Despite its purpose, though, Voyeur wasn’t a place where the patrons could dictate the terms. At the end of the day, the performers had all the power. They stated how many sessions they were able to do a night and what they were willing to do each time. Peeta could request a certain scene or performer, but if they weren’t willing to do what he had ordered, he was out of luck. Each performer logged into an iPad each shift and selected how many performances they wanted to do that night, and what specifically they were up for. Some performers only did solo work, such as masturbation with or without toys. Some had a partner they worked with exclusively, while others would work with anyone. There were performers who were strictly against oral, anal, BDSM, or certain kinks. Each room had a panic button so that the performers could call the security guard posted outside the door if they were uncomfortable or if something happened during their scene to upset them. Peeta had never sat inside one of the rooms, always choosing to watch from the attached private booth, so he had never seen anyone utilize the emergency button, but he was sure there were instances that called for it. There had been whispers in the past of patrons who had become obsessed with certain performers and taken things too far, but Peeta had always thought their actions were ridiculous.
Peeta had never been attached to a specific performer, not caring what they looked like other than his stipulations about blondes. Voyeur wasn’t about lusting after a performer and falling in love with watching them. It was about watching anyone, the person unspecific to the fantasy. Peeta thought that any patron who couldn’t stay detached from the performers had no business being a member of the club. He couldn’t imagine ever feeling that sort of infatuation with another person. He was there to be as distant from the intimacy he witnessed as possible. He respected the people that worked there, and it seemed most other patrons did as well. There were few bad eggs that frequented Voyeur, all things considered. Everyone seemed to understand and respect the rules and knew that the performers were not there to be toys; they were there to put on a show.
The club’s members paid too much money to be there to flirt and be handsy with the actors; if they wanted that, they could go to a strip club for free ten minutes away. People tended to be more respectful of rules when they dropped money on something, especially at Voyeur, where they paid to satisfy a specific kink. Peeta’s reasons for joining Voyeur were a bit different than the typical club member’s, but he felt he belonged there, nonetheless.
The underground community at Voyeur had given Peeta a refuge to escape from the stress he dealt with in his daily life, and he was grateful he discovered it when he had. He was glad to have a place to go when he needed to forget the horrors of his past, even if only for a little while. He tended to sleep better after a satisfying orgasm, since the nightmares he suffered were often suppressed after his libido had been quenched. Voyeur was one of the best things to happen to Peeta, and he had no intention of ever ending his membership.
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One May night, Peeta pulled into the club’s secluded driveway and rolled down his window as he approached the wrought-iron gate. He held his thumb up to have his fingerprint scanned, since security was tight as a drum at Voyeur. When the scanner beeped in acknowledgment of his identity, an armed guard nodded at Peeta and let him pass. He parked his car in the lot behind the white Georgian-style mansion, sliding a gilded skeleton key out of his pocket as he walked to the front entrance.
Peeta unlocked the red double doors and let himself in, making his way to the front desk where a green-eyed hostess named Ana greeted him with a smile.
“Good evening, Mr. Smith,” she said.
“Good evening, Ana.”
Peeta entered his unique five-digit pin code on the screen at Ana’s desk, surrendered his phone to her, and accepted the wristband she offered him. The electronic screen would notify him when his selections were approved, and again when his private room was ready. Peeta could have chosen his session in advance using an iPhone app but had decided to be spontaneous that night instead. Sometimes he didn’t decide which performer he wanted to observe until he saw them in the lounge.
Peeta thanked Ana and made his way towards the main sitting area, walking into the club’s bar and lounge area.
Most people would never guess the things that went on behind closed doors at Voyeur; it looked like any other high-end night club at first glance.
Red was Voyeur’s official color, and almost everything, including the walls and the doors of each private room, was crimson. The opulent bar area had plush red velvet booths along the walls, with every type of liquor, wine, and beer one could want in stock. There was a kitchen as well, so that the patrons could eat dinner if they desired. Dim lighting lent a secretive air to the place, and the piped-in sound system provided music that fluctuated between a variety of genres with upbeat tempos. The constant music filled any silence and absorbed conversations going on nearby.
The performers served as bar tenders, cocktail waiters, and waitresses when they weren’t in a session, allowing the club members to mingle with them if they wished.
Peeta often used the time after he first arrived to have a drink while admiring the club’s employees, making his pick for the night based on what they were wearing. Effie was an expert on variety, and always had her staff dressed in different themes. Sometimes the women wore elegant lingerie, but other times they wore kinky costumes. The male performers generally wore tight booty shorts or skimpy outfits, but Peeta wasn’t interested in them; he was there for the women. The men played a part in each scenario, for sure, but Peeta generally focused on the women when he touched himself. He liked to envision he was the one making them wet, their tight bodies writhing as they came around his cock. That was the whole reason he frequented Voyeur, to imagine he could do things he had been robbed of thirteen years prior. He came to Voyeur to pretend, but mostly, to forget.
After sitting down at the bar, Peeta ordered a beer from his favorite bartender, Finn. The handsome, copper-haired man set an ice-cold bottle on the bar top in front of Peeta and then left to attend to other patrons.
Peeta grabbed his drink and turned to scan the crowds, trying to find someone he wanted to watch that night. Just as he brought the cold glass bottle to his lips, he spotted her walking out of the back hallway. She was new, he could tell, because he had been going there long enough to know everyone who worked there.
The woman was petite with olive skin, sparkling gray eyes, and long, silky brown tresses. Her hair looked mussed, fanning out behind her as she walked, like she had just rolled out of bed. Her cheeks were flushed all the way down to her perky breasts, like she had just had a satisfying orgasm.
Peeta felt himself harden as he imagined what she had just done to be in such a state, his mind racing with the possibilities of how she would have looked during the act. Had she pleasured herself until she came? Had someone gone down on her, drinking from her sweet, wet cunt? Had she been bent over a bed and fucked, hard, until she saw stars?
Peeta stared at the woman’s slim body as she weaved through the sea of patrons. She wore a miniscule green negligee, her lithe legs and pert behind looking fantastic as she walked. She kept her head down for the most part, but when a woman stepped back, bumping into her, she glanced up with a sweet smile that punched Peeta in the chest. Her lips were lush and full on her gorgeous, elfin face, and her smile was radiant enough to light up the room. She was beautiful, and Peeta knew right then and there that he had to watch her that night.
He stared as the woman’s features pulled him in, entranced as he mapped every inch of her body. Something about this woman ensnared all Peeta’s senses and would not let him go. He couldn’t put his finger on the effect she had on him.
Perhaps it was physical attraction, but it somehow felt bigger than that. This woman had some sort of pull on Peeta, like a tether directing him to her, dragging him towards her without his permission.
The woman disappeared behind the wall of the employee lounge far too soon for Peeta’s liking. He took one last pull of his beer and abandoned it despite it still being half full. He headed to the shelf where the iPads were kept so that he could make his selection for the evening.
Flipping through the list of employees who worked that night, he searched for the mystery woman’s face. An urgency he couldn’t explain hit him, and an excitement he hadn’t felt before lit a fire through his body. He needed to watch her that night almost as badly as he needed his next breath. He wanted to watch the woman do anything as he wrapped his fist around his cock, imagining it was her tight cunt or her hot mouth surrounding him, until he came all over himself.
Peeta was pleased to see that she had one session left for the evening, and immediately clicked on her photo. Her name was listed as Kat, but Peeta wondered what her real name was. Surely it was something feminine and unique, like her. He couldn’t imagine her name being something like Jennifer or Ashley. Whatever her name was, though, he was sure it was perfect for her.
Peeta looked through the various offerings, trying to decide what he wanted to watch the seductive brunette do that night.
Anal
Caning
Flogging
BDSM Dom/sub Play
Solo Masturbation
Joint Masturbation
Love Scene (hidden under bed covers)
Vaginal Penetration (explicit)
Non-consensual Play
Daddy Play
Asphyxiation
Dry sex
Multiple partners
Oral sex (Male)
Oral sex (Female)
Most of the selections were grayed out, indicating that Kat wasn’t willing to perform that type of scene. Being new, she likely needed to ease herself into working there before she attempted more. Peeta hoped that with time she would branch out more, allowing him to observe her in all manner of kinky situations.
He was pleased to see that Kat was willing to engage in joint masturbation, though it was by far the most adventurous item on her list that night. He used his finger to select the right box and approve the $600 charge, then added a comment. He requested a husband/wife scene, so that it would appear they had just arrived home after a long workday. He asked that the performers include gentle kissing, and that the masturbation scene take place in a bed, with full nudity. Peeta then entered his pin code to finalize the order.
Five minutes later, his wristband buzzed to let him know that his selection had been approved. He only had to wait another fifteen minutes for a second buzz to come through, indicating that the couple he had chosen was ready. Kat had one male performer listed next to her name, Finn the bartender, indicating that she was only willing to work with him. Peeta had seen Finn in scenes on various occasions and had no issues with him being her partner for the night. He wouldn’t be paying much attention to Finn, anyway. He wanted to see Kat and her naked breasts and perfect cunt. He needed to know how her face looked when she came, and to find out if her eyes rolled back as she fell apart. Finn was just there to serve as a prop; he certainly wasn’t the main event.
Beyond excited for his show, Peeta left the bar area and headed to the room where his scene would take place. It was dark when he entered the private booth, and he turned the knob on the light switch just enough so that he could see where he was going.
A black leather couch and two armchairs filled the middle of the room. Side tables sat between them, holding lamps on each. A shelf sat along one wall that held towels, an assortment of lotions and lubes, and condoms. There was also a binder with the other selections you could request, including dildos, straps, and just about any type of sexual apparatus or implement you could think to use in a small room with a couch and two chairs.
Peeta knew that sometimes couples liked to enjoy watching performances together. He imagined that watching a sex scene play out in person, with a significant other, often led to sex. He wondered what it would be like to be that close to someone else, and to be able to partake in that sort of immersive sexual experience as part of a couple. He knew that type of life wasn’t meant for him, however, and he didn’t waste further time thinking about the possibility. True intimacy wasn’t meant for Peeta; that’s what he had Voyeur for.
He grabbed a bottle of warming lube and a towel before sitting on the couch that faced the glass wall, anticipating the scene to come. From where he sat, the glass allowed him the privacy he wanted but still let him feel like he was in the room. He knew that the performers only saw a black shiny wall they couldn’t see through.
Peeta unzipped his jeans and pulled his semi-hard cock out just as Kat came in the room. He started slowly stroking himself as he watched her, noticing she was dressed in business casual attire with a briefcase in her hand. She moved around the staged living room like she was at home, before setting her briefcase down and slipping off her shoes.
A few moments later, Finn entered, greeting his “wife” and giving her a tender kiss on the lips. Kat returned his affections enthusiastically, and soon they were passionately caressing one another. As the kiss heated up, the couple headed to the small bedroom off to the side of the living room.
Peeta watched with bated breath as the scene intensified. He gripped his shaft harder, moving his hand faster and squeezing his aching cock with each pass. The head of his penis was angry and purple and desperate for release. He was already immensely turned on, and the show hadn’t even truly begun.
After they reached the bedroom, Finn hoisted Kat up and placed her on the bed. He hurriedly tugged her black work slacks down, exposing the red lacy thong she wore underneath. She then unbuttoned her dress shirt and revealed the most perfect breasts Peeta had ever seen. Her lush, firm tits were barely contained by a see-through crimson bra. Finn slid his slacks and shirt off quickly, leaving him only in his boxer shorts.
The couple resumed their kissing, stripping each other of their respective undergarments before falling onto the bed side by side. Peeta fisted his cock furiously, groaning loudly the first time he saw Kat’s bare breasts. Her turgid nipples were dusky pink, and he salivated as he pictured wrapping his mouth around one of them and sucking hard. Her vagina was groomed but had a landing strip, something Peeta had always liked on the women he watched. She was Peeta’s ideal woman in every way, and as he watched her slip one hand towards her folds to touch herself, he almost came right then and there. He had to force himself to slow his movements to stop himself from climaxing too quickly. He wanted to wait for Kat, and come with her, their sounds mixing together in the air despite the wall that separated them.
Kat used her other hand to caress her nipples, plucking them gently as she started touching her clit. The moment she grazed her sensitive bud, she threw her head back, closing her eyes and moaning loudly. She began a frantic pace, rubbing herself while she touched the tips of her breasts with her other hand.
Peeta couldn’t look away. Kat was radiant, her beauty glowing as she touched herself with unrestrained enthusiasm. She arched up the longer she went on, the sounds of her panting growing louder over time. Peeta was riveted, completely mesmerized as he watched Kat pleasure herself in time with the strokes Finn gave his cock.
Peeta only glanced at Kat’s partner once or twice, focused entirely on watching the goddess of a woman splayed out on the bed. She had her legs spread wide, allowing Peeta a spectacular view of her pussy. Kat was perfection, and Peeta had never enjoyed a performance more. Kat was by far the best performer to have joined Voyeur in Peeta’s five years as a member. He could have watched her touch herself forever, and it wouldn’t have been enough. He knew then that he would be back for more, soon.
The scene ended far too quickly for Peeta’s liking, with Kat reaching her orgasm only a few minutes after the scene began. She cried out loudly as she came, moaning in time with Finn as he reached his release alongside her. Peeta loved hearing Kat’s whimpers and moans and watching the way she moved around on the bed in pleasure. He couldn’t be sure if her climax was real, but if it wasn’t, Kat had just put on an Oscar-worthy performance.
Peeta came soon after Finn and Kat did, with thick white ropes of cum soaking the towel draped over his lap. He sat back, breathing loudly, as he came down from his high. Kat had just blown his motherfucking mind. He was almost dizzy with bliss and had just experienced the most intense orgasm of his life.
After the performers had recovered and cleaned up after their climaxes, Finn gave Kat a tender peck on the nose before enveloping her in his arms. They reclined on the bed together, wrapped around one another as if they were about to go to sleep. They were the picture-perfect representation of faux marital bliss.
Peeta took a few minutes to steady his breathing before he stood up and cleaned himself off, washing his hands before disposing of the cum-soaked towel in a laundry bin near the sink. He tucked himself back in his boxers and zipped up his pants before taking one last look at Finn and Kat, who were lying in the bed feigning slumber. He then exited the private booth, making his way out of the club and towards home.
That night, a very sated Peeta slept more soundly than he had in years, not a nightmare in sight.
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Peeta continued to pay to watch Kat perform throughout the remainder of the summer. Each morning after waking up, he checked her schedule on Voyeur’s iPhone app before deciding whether to stay home that night or head to the club. He didn’t bother going if she wasn’t working, because Kat had very quickly become his new kink. He was hooked.
Every night he could, Peeta purchased the most risqué scene Kat was willing to take part in. She seemed to prefer solo masturbation, apparently unwilling to work with even Finn after that first night. Peeta enthusiastically requested Kat’s services in just about any situation he could think of. He paid to watch her touch herself in the shower, on the couch, and in the middle of a workday at a desk. He had even paid to watch her touch herself in a “movie theater” once.
One August night, the day before Capitol University began the fall semester, Peeta was surprised to see that Kat had “Love Scene (hidden under bed covers)” available on her schedule. He quickly selected it, noting that Finn was her partner, and waited at the bar in anticipation of his session. He wasn’t sure why Kat had suddenly agreed to engage in a sex session, but he wasn’t complaining. Peeta had been dying to know what Kat looked like while in the throes of true sexual passion. After the longest fifteen minutes of his life, Peeta’s wristband buzzed, alerting him that his session would shortly commence. He made his way to the private room, armed himself with a towel and some lube, and sat back in the armchair with his already stiff cock in his fist.
What proceeded was the single most erotic experience of Peeta’s life. Although he couldn’t see actual penetration, since the scene took place under blankets, just the illusion of watching Kat have sex was enough to get his rocks off. Peeta was so turned on by watching Finn make love to Kat that his hand dug into the wall as the other furiously worked his shaft. He made sure to keep his strokes in pace with each whimper that escaped Kat’s parted lips, pretending he was the one fucking her instead of Finn.
Peeta groaned loudly as he watched the scene unfold, desperate to feel Kat’s fingers dig into his arms the way they were digging into Finn’s. He wanted to be the one she was finding purchase to hold onto as he ravaged her. He wanted to be the one she had her thighs wrapped tightly around.
Peeta loved how Kat’s tits bounced on each thrust, the way they shook driving him nearly mad with lust. The constant jiggling of her breasts taunted him, making him wish he could wrap his tongue around each rosy tip. He wanted to suckle her as he drove into her, pleasuring her with his mouth until she clenched tightly around him in orgasm.
Peeta imagined how hot and wet Kat would feel around his cock. He pictured the way her pussy would suck him back in with tight squeezes, desperate for him to fill her back up each time he retreated. He had never been able to place himself so easily or vividly in a scene. It was like he was actually there, and like he was the one fucking Kat. The experience was otherworldly, and one Peeta wished he could relive over and over. He never wanted the night to end.
What felt like much too soon, Kat started to writhe on the bed, clearly nearing orgasm. Finn moved faster above her, working rapidly to get her to fall apart in his arms. Peeta watched in awe, ravenous to see Kat come, and desperately wishing to be part of the pleasure unfolding in front of him.
He felt his sac tighten and his spine tingle as he chased his climax, wanting more than anything to come in tandem with his girl. He worked his fist faster as he reached his release, the muscles in his arms straining and aching for the orgasm he so badly wished he could find inside Kat’s cunt. He wanted to grind his balls on her as he blew his load inside her pussy, emptying everything he had in her as she pulsed wildly around him. What he wouldn’t give to be capable of fucking her the way Finn was and to be the one making her moan so loudly.
All three of them came in tandem, groaning loudly inside the walls of the private room. The echoes of Kat’s pleasure drove Peeta wild, and he was almost certain her orgasm was real with how genuine it sounded. He moaned through it all, reveling in Kat’s sweet cries of ecstasy as she and Finn met their releases.
Peeta was sure he had never come as hard as he did that night. Shocks rippled through his spine and down into his balls as thick spurts of semen shot out of his penis. The towel on his lap was practically ruined with how much cum had come out of his cock. Even after he had emptied his load, ripples of pleasure continued to course through Peeta’s body, until he slumped bonelessly in the chair. He jealously watched as Finn gathered Kat into his arms, cuddling with her under the blankets in post coital bliss.
Peeta had never been so envious of another man in his life. Bitterness shot through him suddenly as he wished he could tear down the glass separating them and pull Kat from Finn’s arms. He had to remind himself several times that they were just performers, and that Finn and Kat weren’t really together. They were just there to put on a show for his pleasure and boy, had they delivered.
After Peeta finally caught his breath, he stood up and cleaned himself off before leaving the room. He forced himself not to turn around and see the fake lovers snuggling together. He knew it would only enrage him to see Finn touching Kat the way he wished he could.
Peeta resolved to never purchase a partner session again; he would only watch Kat on her own going forward. If he couldn’t touch her, no one could. If that meant he had to buy up every one of her sessions each night, then so be it. Kat was Peeta’s; anything else was unthinkable.
He left the club and drove home, thinking about how he had never been so entranced with a performer before. After watching Kat five nights a week for three months, he had started seeing her even in his dreams.
In the past, when Peeta had jerked off at home, it was to a porno and the woman he pictured had a blank face. Now, though, he always pictured Kat as he touched himself, the many memories he had of her enough to satiate his desire. No porno could ever compete with Kat; she was one of a kind.
Peeta went to bed with a satisfied smile on his face, because despite the fleeting envy he had felt towards Finn, he finally knew what it looked like when Kat was fucked. Whether actual penetration had taken place under those blankets or not, he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. Peeta had gotten to see Kat’s perfect face when she was pounded into, her mouth forming a soft oh as she came. The image was seared into Peeta’s brain, and it was perfect enough to round out the solid spank bank he had built up over time. His collection was now nearly complete, and he could rest easy knowing what it looked like when Kat was in flagrante delicto.
That night, Peeta dreamt of olive-skinned legs draped around his waist, a chestnut-colored braid in his fist as he thrust rapidly into Kat. It was a good way to fall asleep before the start of a new semester, with a positive feeling wrapped around him.
__
The next morning, Peeta walked into his first lecture of the day with a wide grin on his face. He had dreamt of Kat all night and woken up in a jubilant mood as a result. He had plans to see her at Voyeur that night and had already booked two back-to-back sessions to watch her masturbate. The first session would take place in a shower, and the second in a kitchen. Peeta could already picture the way Kat would look when she climaxed, her perfect lips wide open as she moaned her pleasure. He couldn’t wait for that night, already counting the minutes until he could see her again.
Peeta knew he couldn’t start the semester off with a public hard-on and forced himself to focus on mentally preparing for the lecture. He sat down at his desk as he pulled a stack of syllabuses out of his messenger bag, willing his body to calm down. The class he was teaching, Renewable Energy & Green Building Entrepreneurship, consisted solely of seniors and was a requirement for those studying environmental engineering. It was Peeta’s favorite class to teach, since those who signed up for it had chosen to pursue careers dedicated to making the Earth a cleaner place. Peeta loved teaching students who shared his passion for renewable energy. He was excited for the new semester and couldn’t wait to get started on the day’s lecture.
The first student walked into the auditorium moments after Peeta sat down, greeting him with a grin as she sat down in the middle of the classroom.
More students came in shortly after, and Peeta greeted each of them enthusiastically. He saw a few wide eyes from female students as they walked in. He had been teaching for three years at that point and was used to the occasional appraising look. He knew he was far younger than most of the other professors at the school and wasn’t oblivious to his looks. So, he ignored the interested students and kept his facial expressions polite. He made sure he kept his attention short when looking at female students, not wanting to encourage anything sexual. He had worked far too hard to let a student wreck all he had achieved.
With one minute to spare, Peeta made his way to the front of the classroom, seeing that almost all the seats were filled. He would wait a few more minutes before beginning the class, allowing any stragglers to sit before starting the lecture.
“Hello, Welc-”
Peeta’s throat closed up over the words when he went to greet the next set of students entering the room. Two women walked in, one a blonde he had never seen before, but the other...
The other?
The other was her. Kat, from Voyeur. In Peeta’s classroom. As a fucking student.
As his student.
Blood pounded through his veins; the whooshing sound blocking out the classroom noise and the movement of Peeta’s students. His vision narrowed, and he focused solely on the woman in front of him. The woman he had jacked off to all summer. The woman he had paid to simulate sex the night before. She was smiling and laughing at something her blonde friend said.
Kat looked so much like she did at Voyeur, and yet so different at the same time. At the club, she walked with an air of confidence, and even maturity. Sometimes she wore only lingerie, sometimes she was in a themed costume, but most of the time, she was butt ass naked with her hand between her thighs. That day, however, she strode into the classroom in leggings and a CU t-shirt, her face fresh and her hair in a single braid.
Kat looked so much like a student that Peeta kicked himself for not seeing how young she was before. At least he knew she was a senior, since being close to graduation was a requirement to enroll in the class, but still, at most Kat was likely twenty-one.
Peeta cringed, feeling like a pervert for getting off to someone barely old enough to drink.
Kat was his student. His goddamn student. He couldn’t believe his rotten luck. He had watched one of his students touch herself all summer and paid money for the pleasure to bear witness to her orgasms.
What kind of sick fuck did that?
He was screwed. Unbearably screwed.
Fuck.