This is the first time I've ever attempted a story of… this type. So basically I'm just asking for forgiveness for any clumsiness in how this stuff is written. Don't continue if you don't like explicit stories, as I don't want to get reviews in the future talking about how disgusting it is, or something was unpleasant based solely on the fact that it was graphic, unless this is meant to be a compliment. It's going to be rated M for a reason. Graphically sexual at times, and some extremely violent themes if I have anything to do with it! Future chapters will be far longer than this I hope, this is more of an establishing chapter if nothing else.

I hope you enjoy. I won't judge you if you do ;)

He continued refreshing the page until finally her name came up again.

It was a Sunday. She always uploaded a new video on a Sunday. Singing Sundays. She was only seventeen, and so Erik could always excuse the girl for her almost painfully childish wordplay. It was her singing, though, that made it worth while. He did not quite recall when he had first found her online profile, but he knew that from the very first moment he had heard her sing, it was to be an obsession for him. No, she was not a perfect singer. At times she was not even a good singer, depending on the song that she chose. However, she was a passionate singer, one who knew the value of the words coming out of her mouth and knew how to put that value across.

And it was the singularly most beautiful instrument he had ever heard.

At last her latest video appeared. Christine Wishes You Merry Christmas! Three exclamation marks. She certainly did love the Christmas season. He opened the video immediately, humming impatiently as it buffered until at last he was free to watch her.

Hark how the bells, sweet silver bells

All seem to say, throw cares away

Christmas is here, bringing good cheer

To young and old, meek and the bold.

A much better choice than last Christmas's rendition of Fairytale of New York. Erik's knuckles tightened as he briefly remembered that little… gem of a video. She had coerced her young beau into performing with her then. While not unpleasant to listen to, it was also all too clear that he was not unpleasant to look at either, a very distracting fact. Pushing away those memories, he continued to listen. Yes, it was a definite improvement to last year. She was alone now. He found himself very almost distracted by the exuberant jumper she was wearing- bright green with a large reindeer head, the nose protruding from the item of clothing- but closed his eyes. It was the most perfect way to celebrate the holidays.

The video finished, but he did not to review it before he sent her his response. By this point, he knew that she waited on bated breath for his words, the words of advice and appraisal from he, her most loyal viewer. He sent her a private message, of course. It would not do to have his words lost amongst the drones of comments complimenting her breasts and pretty face. She expected better of him by now.

Once more, dear Christine, you have captivated your loyal teacher. A wonderful choice of song, I must say- you must stick to these classics, you know? They suit you far better than these pop songs you keep broadcasting. Think Mozart, not McFly. I am glad to see that you have begun taking my advice in your breathing exercises, I can tell that they are already working after such a short time. You must know that I enjoy seeing my advice accepted so gratefully, and to such wonderful effect. However I see that you have begun slouching more often. I shall accept this as simply a side effect of the holiday season, I know that people often find themselves lazier at this time of year. I should think, though, that it will be beneficial of you after your celebrations are over to begin taking note of how you stand. Do not stiffen yourself, of course, simply hold yourself high.

Erik.

He sent the message to her, knowing that it would not be long before she replied. She was perhaps not as quick as he was, but she would always reply within the hour. Erik did not know why it took her so long considering very little thought appeared to go into her messages, but he did not mind the wait. She was still young, and seemed almost constantly distracted by something or another.

After a few minutes of waiting, Erik returned to the video and found the frame that suited the girl best. Finally he found it, a moment without blurring or the contorted yet beautiful face of a singer. A moment of silence, in which she just smiled, looking almost directly at the camera. It was as if she could never concentrate on the camera; in the couple of years that he had been watching her, she never once looked directly at the camera, at him. Was there always someone there with her? No, he doubted that. She was quite alone when she sang most of the time. Erik stared at her image for what seemed like an eternity, thoughts running through his mind. She had been letting her hair grow recently, he noticed, and now it swayed below her shoulders in thick blonde locks. She rarely wore make up, though had in this video donned her lips with pink gloss, leaving them shining in the light slightly. Without quite knowing why, a small groan sounded from his lips. Erik awakened himself from his trance to find his skin had warmed, his flesh hardened. No, he thought to himself. Not to her.

Quickly he minimized the page, returning to his old, trustworthy websites. He always returned to the same video. A young blonde girl, barely out of her teens, her hands tied above her head on a table with her legs free. Completely bare. She probably looked nothing like Christine, but with her face hidden by the gag and blindfold, he could pretend. The man looked nothing like him either, but it was unlikely there would be a man in this profession who did.

Freeing himself from his fabric prison, Erik allowed himself to let Christine slip from his mind. It was not fair to the poor girl to let her wander too freely in his head while his body gave into such primal demands. The video was quiet for a while. Only the sudden crack of a whip broke the silence. A high pitched muffled scream. The man leant over her, ripping the gag harshly away from the girl so that her gasps could be heard freely.

"Master!"

"Say it again."

"Master!"

"Beg," he instructed, roughly grabbing at her crotch with his lips pressed against her ear. She could only summon a strangled cry of desperation, whimpering like a child. Only a simple young girl, in the body of a whore. Erik's breath came out raggedly as he watched the two, watching him slap her and seeing her writhe until he finally gave into her begging and pleas. With a guttural cry, Erik too gave in, slumping against his chair as he panted. Only a few minutes would be needed to recover. The video played on, not yet finished, but it was in another world to Erik in that moment. With a heavy sigh, he cleaned up. Returned to the computer, and smiled.

She had replied.

Dear Erik,

I'm so glad you enjoyed my singing again! First comment, yet again- way to go you :D I'm glad you noticed my breathing exercises- seriously, I've been doing them every night. You didn't tell me the first couple of days would hurt! My ribs felt like they were going to explode. Guess I'm just not used to it, right? Oh well, if it's working, I'll carry on. And I guess I am getting a little lazy- too many chocolates, I'm sure my posture'll improve once I lay off those a little bit! I guess if you like these classics I'll have to sing a few more. Shame, I'd been planning on a few show tunes in the future! Nothing wrong with a bit of Wicked, right?

And hey, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Christine x

She always put kisses on the end of her replies. It was simply the way that she worked. It didn't mean anything. Yet Erik could not help but smile at the sight of that little letter. Such a sweet girl, he thought to himself. He would have to chide her in the future about her overuse of exclamation marks. Her holiday excitement would only excuse her to a certain point. Erik pondered the idea of replying to her once more, but decided against it. The scent of his arousal was still in the air. It would only taint the words he wished to say.

It was still quite early by this point. Half past seven in the evening. She often posted quite late in the day; he had discovered not too long ago that Christine was a religious girl. Her Sundays were devoted to her church. Yet she still constantly uploaded her songs, as if it was this, the most holy of days, put her in such good spirits that she simply needed a song. Such a good girl, really.

Such a good, unaware young child.