Chapter Text
Roman had found out about a new website a couple of months ago.
Kind of like MySpace but for pervs. OkCupid for people who were looking for their toe-sucking, piss-guzzling match. It makes it impossible to browse through without an account, so soon thereafter she set up her profile. She looked up a random username generator and went with rustlerodge51 - of course she wouldn't use her real name, but she's always thought that particular alliteration was one of her most redeeming qualities.
At first, she hadn't added any information to it, as anonymous a lurker as she could be. Rustlerodge51 had read what felt like thousands of posts on different public groups and seen some shit she was still trying to wipe off her brain, thinking about how kinkshaming should be acceptable for some people. She had felt like a bigger sicko than usual, bird of the same feather as users who, among other perversions, enjoyed wearing diapers and getting their dicks poked with catheters. Maybe she's always been as rotten as the next user.
When her curiosity finally had finally taken over her reason, she uploaded a couple of blurry semi-nudes she'd taken God knows how long ago, just some shots of her in her bra and panties with her head cropped off, obviously, her borderline translucently pale body twisting in an awkward, unnatural pose to impress God knows who, and attempted to be an active user on a forum whose title embarrassed and aroused her in the same ratio.
I want an older woman to look at m-
Yuck. Pathetic. So needy right off the bat – which is not, um, incorrect.
I like to take my clothes off for MILFs
Too general and presumptuous. It's not like it would ever be fucking raining women in their fifties willing to give her the time of day.
Looking for an older woman to order me around while I take my clothes off
There. Still cringy, but it could be worse, considering this whole idea couldn’t possibly be more embarrassing. She presses Enter and the entry is posted on “Cybersex for MILFs and kittens” – ugh. Dreadful. She’s gonna have to wipe down her CPU with a gallon of fucking Clorox.
***
Roman has always thought she’s wired wrong, which has posed as a towering brick wall in the middle of her search for affection. She’s always felt too… weird to even consider baring herself for another woman. As a result, she’s developed this undying curiosity about going through with it without fully committing, about being vulnerable like that, about having the certainty that someone is looking at her, at least for a little bit. If love – barf – is out of reach, maybe sex might not be that far away. And if sex is also unattainable, turning her webcam on for a couple of minutes might do the trick. She knows it’s an NDA hazard, a disaster of colossal proportions waiting to happen, but the risk is the whole point. She doesn’t want in on it if it doesn’t feel as wrong and disgusting as she feels about her own self. Apparently shame is Roman’s conditio sine qua non for sexual matters.
Sometimes Roman feels so lonely she thinks she might disappear from the face of the Earth. She hasn’t had someone care for her in such a long time (maybe ever ?) that she still fears that if a woman touched her she might explode into tiny little lonely Roman parts, multiplying her loneliness tenfold.
There had come a time when Roman started feeling like she didn’t exist at all. Felt like she was becoming more invisible with each passing day, while most days the only people who acknowledged that, yes, she was, in fact, still standing on her two feet, alive albeit terribly, ridiculously unremarkable, were her driver and her assistant.
Was she even a Real Person? Would Waystar executives write her name off as another mere casualty if she were to be found dead inside one of the cabins of a cruise ship?
Roman developed the paradoxical habit of looking at herself in the mirror for long stretches of time, but vanity was not her folly. She wanted to make sure she was still there. The fear of vanishing away overpowered Roman’s unease with her body, so she stopped avoiding her reflection, and instead, against all odds, started chasing it.
One day, Gerri, the company’s resident General Counsel I’d Like to Fuck, showed up to work wearing a tailored pencil skirt whose hem kissed the skin of her thigh an inch too high over her knees. Roman, as soon as she got home, with her trousers and underwear around her ankles, rubbed herself in front of her closet mirror, biting her own fist and pathetically panting through her nose, her eyes wide open and glued on her fingers, her head flooded with oneiric scenarios where Gerri looked at her looking at Gerri looking at her looking at…
Afterwards, sprawled on top of her duvet with her ears still ringing, she refreshed her rustlerodge51 notifications over and over and over again, until her eyes closed on their own, making room for dreams featuring soft, golden hair and unimaginably kind and earnest eyes doubtlessly aimed at her.
***
Out of the blue, the same week she first posted on the forum, she gets a message from MissKGDomme while she's in the middle of a meeting with Frank. According to her profile, she's 54, from New York, has had an account since the website was created, and, from the five total pixels in her masked profile picture, is a blonde.
(3:45 PM) MissKGDomme: Hello, girl. You want to show your body, I want to see it - our interests are sufficiently aligned, don't you think?
It makes Roman shiver from head to toe and press her knees together under her desk. The red and black layout of the website reflects Roman's startled expression on her phone screen as nitidly as the contrasting font spelling g-i-r-l.
"So what do you think, Roman?"
Frank's voice distances her from her reverie. It's like she's been awakened from a nap. She should check if she drooled. "Uh… I mean… Do you mind quickly refreshing my memory on the subject?"
He sighs and rubs his temples. Frank has never been a fan of hers - then again, who in their right mind would be. He probably wants to push her off her chair right now. "The Spitzer deal, Rome. It's not looking good. Your father is pushing it as if his life depended on it, but it's gonna make us look like idiots. Do you think you can talk him out of it, is the question."
Roman has absolutely no clue what deal he's talking about. Wasn't Spitzer the one with the telescope or something?
"No, no, yeah, for sure. No problem. I'll talk pops out of it." She says it unthinkingly, glancing towards her phone with every other word.
Frank looks at her disapprovingly, the way a dog owner would look at a puppy after it pissed on the carpet, gathers his papers and leaves the room, when her phone lights up again. Another message from MissKGDomme.
(4:13 PM) MissKGDomme: I'll be waiting for you on Skype tonight. 9 PM. Same username. Don't make me wait, unless you want to be punished.
Holy shit.
After 29 years on God's green Earth, Roman Roy has a date.
***
Roman sits on her bed in front of her laptop at 8:58 wondering if this is a good idea.
She knows nothing about this person other than her age and location. And maybe her hair color. But if she doesn't show up, then what? Beggars can't be choosers, and Roman isn't even dignified enough to beg. At this point, afraid of being entirely swallowed by her solitude, she wants to be looked at so badly that her eyes stupidly swell up with tears.
At 9 PM sharp, she sends the mystery woman a friend request, which is automatically accepted.
(9:00 PM) MissKGDomme: Hello. You're on time. Good
As it seems, the tiniest bit of praise has a tectonic effect on Roman.
(9:01 PM) rustlerodge51: hello mistress
(9:02 PM) MissKGDomme: You already know what to call me. Looks like it's not your first time
(9:02 PM) rustlerodge51: no, it is my first time. i've just thought about it a lot
(9:03 PM) MissKGDomme: You've thought about what, exactly, girl?
All the moisture from her mouth travels downward. Her heart is pounding as if her brain just told her body to get ready to run for her life.
(9:05 PM) rustlerodge51: about being looked at mistress
About being wanted , she doesn't say.
(9:06 PM) MissKGDomme: Well, I guess we're on the same page, aren't we? Why don't you tell me what you're wearing right now
She looks at her current outfit, not as masterfully selected as it should be, and replies:
(9:07 PM) rustlerodge51: a tshirt and sweatpants mistress
MissKGDomme is writing… shows up at the bottom of the screen once, and vanishes. It appears once more, and once more it disappears.
(9:11 PM) MissKGDomme: What are you waiting for?
Oh. Oh, shit. Oh God. This is really happening, Roman thinks out loud. She shakingly opens her laptop webcam and snaps a picture of herself on a whim, her legs crossed over one another, her nipples poking through her white shirt, all bony arms and clavicles, her face nowhere to be seen.
(9:13 PM) MissKGDomme: You look comfortable
(9:14 PM) MissKGDomme: Is there anything underneath those?
(9:14 PM) rustlerodge51: just my panties
This time she doesn't wait for a command. She takes off her pants and faces away from the camera, giving the lens a full view of her lace-covered backside.
(9:15 PM) MissKGDomme: You're a lovely girl, just as I thought
Roman blushes at the sound of the delightful whimper that came out of her mouth echoing across her bedroom.
(9:16 PM) MissKGDomme: Take your underwear off
Her blood freezes. That's it. This is what she signed up for. Someone wants to look at her. As gross as she feels, as nearly invisible as she's become, there's still somebody on the other side of her screen who wants to see her. She could fucking cry.
She painstakingly peels off her panties, the fabric sticking to her skin for a flick of a second. Unsure of how to pose, as all of her options make her look either too ugly or too slutty, she hesitates, until her domme takes the reins:
(9:19 PM) MissKGDomme: Show me your cunt, girl
Under no uncertain terms, she opens her legs, and when she does, the sound of her arousal is audible without a single touch. She's never felt this exposed in her entire life. She's never, ever, felt this important.
She snaps the most explicit picture she's ever taken of herself and sends it this complete stranger's way.
MissKGDomme is writing…
(9:21 PM) MissKGDomme: Oh my. You're even lovelier than I imagined. So wet and pretty. Just begging to be kissed.
MissKGDom is writing… stays on screen all the while Roman's legs start to burn with the effort of keeping themselves open, as if the woman can see her struggling, as if she will snap at Roman if she closes them. Obedience, for once, comes to her naturally.
(9:24 PM) MissKGDomme: I'm afraid something has come up on my end that must cut our session short, pretty girl
Roman wants to scream in frustration.
(9:25 PM) MissKGDomme: But I'll leave you with some homework: I want to know if you sound and look as lovely as you do right now when you come.
(9:26 PM) MissKGDomme: Do you understand what I'm requesting from you?
She's so upset about it that, for a minute, she forgets the context and curtly replies:
(9:26 PM) rustlerodge51: yes
(9:27 PM) MissKGDomme: Excuse me?
(9:27 PM) rustlerodge51: yes mistress
(9:28 PM) MissKGDomme: Don't make me repeat myself. We shall speak again tomorrow.
(9:28 PM) rustlerodge51: i'm sorry mistress
But she's already logged off.
Not even half an hour has gone by since they first started talking and Roman already feels the crushing weight of her absence.
It takes virtually nothing for Roman to reach a devastating climax a couple of minutes later, she almost forgets to turn on her webcam and angle it away from her face, nearly kicks her laptop off of her bed when her leg spasms so hard it cramps. The video miraculously still works and features no traces of her identity other than her disturbingly loud moans.
Nothing about this situation is risk averse but, for the time being, she still manages to remain unnamed and unknown - as does the other woman involved, which bothers Roman not at all. Or so tells herself.
She sends the video and falls into the deepest slumber of her adult years, mercifully dreamless.