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There was the camera at the top of the screen, centered and patient, a green light next to it. I could look at it askance, but not straight on. I couldn't face the strangers, even if I wanted to. Below were three simple boxes on a white background. One: What I looked like. Two: What they looked like, because precious few were ready to turn on their cameras. There were 442 people watching at first, a faceless and incomprehensible number. Were they enough to fill the seats in a small theater? A large restaurant? How many people work in my company? How many work under me? When I watched, I didn't turn my camera on either, though I'd imagined they could see me, or just the parts of me I wanted them to see. A finger and a clit.

Finally, there was the third box, the one I wanted to see the most, though I knew that if we were successful, no one would be able to type. This one was a stream of thoughts, stupid and flattering, or childish and painful. I would imagine that they wouldn't be able to agree, that some would demand that I play with my tits while other would ask me to press up on my arms.

It turns out that people are used to a leader, and let one person do the talking for them, a man named dirtyhands. It was a leader's name, I gave them that.

dirtyhands

massage her tits

And Ryan's hands, thick and callused, came around my sides and kneaded my nipples. I watched our backward reflection on the screen and waited for the next order. My skin looked alien in the picture, spotless and blurry, the navel barely discernable, the large, dark nipples not much more than shadows between Ryan's fingers. I tried to pull one of his hands down between my legs, but he wouldn't budge. This wasn't about me. I went myself, so distracted that I hadn't noticed how wet I'd become, how sensitive and shaken. Ryan's hands seemed to dwarf me, as if we were in a fisheye. I leaned back so they could see me rub.

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dirtyhands

show her your cock

Ryan came around me so that he was facing the camera. He took the hand in my crotch and wrapped it around his cock. I twisted it, showed it to be flexible as girl hands are, thin, fragile and helpless. My fingers were still wet and I slid up and down lightly, an innocent entering a strange cave, touching the unfamiliar. Ryan said, because our microphone was on too, "Do you like that?"

dirtyhands

tell her to suck it

"No faces," Ryan said.

dirtyhands

have her face you

I wasn't allowed to see their profiles, didn't think that I'd want to, but I began to wonder who dirtyhands was. No matter.

I backed up, straddled the laptop and bent over. Ryan's cock slid into my mouth easily, and I twisted and pulled, licked and tightened my lips around him. Saliva dripped out of the corners and onto the sheets. He smelled the same, felt the same. The sheets were our sheets.

Ryan said, "He wants you to touch yourself. Split yourself good first. Let them see you."

I did as they said, though it was too much rocket fuel. While my hands had been away, my pussy had turned to hard rubber in melted ice cream. I stuck my fingers inside instead.

Ryan said, "He likes it."

I could feel my muscles crush my fingers, suck them in. Ryan pulled out of my mouth.

"Talk to him," Ryan said.

"I want you in my pussy. Stick it in me."

"Turn around," Ryan said.

"No."

"Just keep your face up," he said, holding me by the chin.

I didn't want to do it anymore. I didn't want this liquid pouring out of my pussy. I didn't want to want to come.

"No."

He pushed my knees back on the sheets and placed the laptop in front of my knees. "They can't see your face."

I reached out for the camera, wanted to put my thumb over the lens.

"Do it," Ryan said, putting my fingers back between my legs and rubbing them. I closed my eyes. I'd seen the number. 578. I heard Ryan breathe. He was out of the camera range.

Miles of people were watching me, some just watching, some just starting to play. Some were couples. Some were women. I saw them come, felt their eyes on me, little fiber optic lines through the lens of my camera.

"Are they fucking you?" Ryan said.

I said nothing. Tingles were turning to heat in me.

"Are they fucking you?"

"Yes."

I opened my eyes and faced them. Only five had their cameras on. dirtyhands lay limp. I'd only just noticed.

"What?"

Ryan bent me over the laptop and pushed his thumbs inside me. I came, not there, not in my body, watching myself come like the camera watched me. I writhed and bucked and yelled.

"Goodnight, all," Ryan said, and quit the browser. dirtyhands had logged off.