by Duvane, JB
I was lucky that the floor in the library was hardwood instead of the white carpet that covered the living room floor. I’d been made to clean a full container of brown gravy out of that carpet a week ago as my punishment. Max was going easy on me today. But it made me wonder if he had something else in store for me.
The maid act was just that. An act that Max required me to perform on an almost daily basis. He actually had someone come in twice a week to clean the house. During those times we would either go out or he would take me to the playroom downstairs. Sometimes he would have me pick up items of clothing he’d dropped around the room—extremely slowly—while he sat in a chair and watched. Sometimes he would have me fix him a drink and bring it to him on a tray.
But all of these activities were just the opener, a tease for both of us. It worked me up into such a frenzy to have him stare at me while I served him and I know it did the exact same thing for him.
I picked up the towel in one hand and, while keeping my upper body low to the ground, I took my time cleaning up the spill. With each movement of my arm, I let my ass sway back and forth. I could feel my juices running down my thighs while I finished up with the towel. I couldn’t wait to find out what was coming next.
In the four months that I’d been at Max’s house, our relationship had changed in ways that I could never have imagined that first weekend. I had been so desperate for him to profess his love for me back then that I wasn’t able to see anything else. It wasn’t until I let go of my neediness and let Max have complete control that things started to change.
When I just let go of everything and let him take control I feel such a release inside me and I’m able to just exist in the moment without worrying about anything.
I put my head down, letting Max know that I was finished with my chore, and I heard him unzip his pants behind me.
“Come here, little doll.”
I stood up and walked over to Max. He had his hard cock in his hand and was stroking it while he looked at me.
“Lay down across my lap.”
I crawled onto Max’s lap and did as I was told. I felt his hard cock underneath me as I lowered myself so that my ass was positioned directly in front of him. I felt Max spread my legs apart and dip his fingers into my wetness.
“You appear to be very aroused. Does it turn you on to defy me?”
“No, Sir.”
“I think you’re lying. I think it turns you on a great deal when I’m forced to punish you. Isn’t that right?”
Before I had a chance to answer, his palm came down hard on my ass. I cried out from the pain as well as the shock of getting a spanking. I knew that’s what was about to happen, but no matter how much you anticipate a bare-assed spanking, nothing can prepare you for it.
“I’m going to give you another chance to tell me the truth. Does it turn you on to defy me?” Another spanking landed squarely in the same spot as the last. My entire body jolted from the blow.
“Y-yes!”
“Yes, what?” Another hard smack.
“Yes, Sir! It turns me on to defy you!”
“Okay, then. That’s all I wanted to know.” His voice sounded light, almost amused. “Would you like me to punish you further? Or do you want me to stick my cock in you immediately?”
“I’d like both, Sir.”
“My, aren’t we greedy. Okay, lets go down to the playroom.”
I got up off Max’s lap and followed him down to the basement. When he had first presented the newly decorated room to me, I wasn’t sure if I was going to like it. But he had done an amazing job of fixing it up and making it a special place for the two of us.
Instead of a drab, dungeon-like room, it was now decorated the same as the rest of the house. The cold, concrete floors were covered over with hard wood and the walls were papered and trimmed in dark mahogany. There were a number of implements lining all of the walls that Max would use on me regularly, but my favorite part of our playroom was the table that sat in the very center.
When I was strapped down, Max could access any part of my body he wanted. My legs were always spread wide and my arms usually tied behind my back. The place where my torso sat was curved up so that my head was lifted higher than the rest of my body. My breasts settled onto a velvet-covered pedestal so that they were always on display for him, and always within his reach.
I got up onto the table and felt Max strap my legs down, then I felt my arms pulled tight behind me and tied together at the wrist and elbow. Max walked around the room and pulled something down from the wall, then moved in front of me, the item dangling from his fingers. It was a pair of nipple clamps. I winced as he attached them to each breast, then again when he let them fall so that the chain between them pulled tight.
Max walked over to one of the walls again and when he returned he brought a paddle with him. It had a long handle, so I assumed he was going to be using it from a bit of a distance. Max took his pants and shirt off and stood in front of me at the table, his cock brushing against my lips. I opened my mouth and he immediately filled it, thrusting his cock in and holding it at the back of my throat.
When he did that, the slight movement of my body caused the nipple clamps to pull on each other again, sending bolts of pain through my breasts and straight to my pussy. Max reached under the table and flipped a switch, and a vibrator that had been installed just where my pussy rested immediately sent pulses to my clit.
I moaned deeply as Max pulled his cock out of my mouth, then thrust it back in again. The next time he pulled out, he removed his cock from my mouth entirely, then brought the paddle down on my ass. I screamed, but it was stifled by the cock that went right back in, filling my mouth and throat completely.
This went on for a long time, and with each paddling and each thrust, the clamps on my nipples pulled and the vibrator on my clit pulsated. It wasn’t long before I lost all track of space and time. I had been trained to always look up into Max’s eyes, but he knew how impossible that was for me when things got to a certain point.
In the blackness I could only feel what was being done to me and my awareness intensified. Everything that was done to me became part of a chorus of sensation. Each individual aspect of Max’s perfect torture combined to create a stormy sea of bliss that pulled me down until everything felt like a dream.
The feeling of his fist grabbing my hair or the paddle on my ass were no longer isolated to just that spot. The sensations spread across my body until they were all intertwined, creating a full-body orgasm that lasted for minutes.
I felt Max’s cock quiver as he came down my throat, his hands wrapped around my head, caressing me and gripping my hair. When the last drop of his seed shot into me, he pulled his cock from my mouth. I heard him as he circled the table, removing the clamps from my nipples and releasing the restraints. When I was free he pulled me up so that I sat on the edge of the table.
“Did you have fun?” he asked, brushing my hair out of my face.
“That’s a silly question,” I said and smiled. “It was a lot more than fun.”
“Really? What word would you use to describe it?” he asked, a smile curling up in one corner of his mouth.
“Perfect.” I reached up and touched his jaw, bringing him closer to me so that I felt his hot breath on my face.
Max leaned in and gently touched his lips to mine, then grabbed my face and kissed me with such force that it took my breath away.
I closed my eyes and let the euphoria wash over me of everything that had just happened and everything that my life with Max had become. I knew that if I never saw the outside world on my own again—if I was never again let out of Max’s sight—I wouldn’t care because I had everything I could possibly ever want, or need, right in front of me.
The End
About Filthy Cam Girl
They all think I’m a virgin … the men I entertain online.
Technically, I am … but, believe me, I’ve done everything else.
I’ll
do just about anything to get them off ... the men who like to watch.
But for him? My best friend’s dad?
He would get it all. But he doesn't know I exist.
Ashley
I’ve dreamt about him for years, especially after seeing those pictures of his … you know.
But he was my best friend’s dad and he barely knew a kid like me existed.
That was before the accident.
Now I’m sure he hates me.
The problem is, every man I cam for becomes him in my head.
I know I can’t have him, but I don’t know if I can live without him.
Drake
She performs for them every night … those horny old men that frequent Daddyland.
She also performs for me, although she has no idea who I am.
I’ve lusted after my daughter’s best friend for years.
And now, after everything that’s happened, I have to have her with me.
She’s all I have left.
I know I’m a sick bastard for even thinking it. I’m old enough to be her father and I’m a goddamned dean at her college.
But I have to make her mine.
I’m going to take her and bring her to my house … then I’m going to take the one thing she hasn’t given another man.
Her virginity.
Filthy Cam Girl is a standalone dark romance novel of 41k words and is intended for mature readers only. The story contains some dark themes and may not be suitable for everyone.
Chapter 1 - Ashley
I wanted to be into this. I wanted it to be like it used to be—in the beginning when I was just starting out and everything was so new and felt so dirty. I wanted so badly to feel that rush I used to get when I was giving my first private shows—back when I cleaned my whole room for each session, just in case. Now I barely made my bed, even when it was one of my high-paying regulars.
That’s where it was at. That’s where the real money was—the regulars. The men who found exactly what they wanted and would pay good money for it, over and over and over. It made me feel weird at first, partly because I didn’t even need the money. I was on a full scholarship at school and had my parent’s insurance payout, which was more than I could spend in a year if I was partying every night. But I never partied. I never went anywhere. Other than occasionally making it to class, camming was my life.
Seeing my worth skyrocket as the tips rolled in used to have me soaring for days. But lately it just felt like the same thing over and over. And no matter how filthy my sessions got—no matter what I did for the men on the other end of the camera—it didn’t excite me anymore.
I started to imagine that it was the exact same man asking me to do the exact same thing every night, because that’s the way it felt. Most of them weren’t very original at all. They were all ‘Daddy wants you to do this’ and ‘Daddy wants to see his baby’s pretty pink pussy.’ After a while the word Daddy made me gag. Not because I didn’t like it, but because it was an overused word that took the place of anything real—a real force-me-to-my-knees-and-make-me-suck-your-cock experience. And that’s what I’d been wanting. A man to make me feel like I had no choice, even when I wanted to have no choice.
But these men were ‘Daddies’ in name only. Just horny old men with a lot of money and a desire for shaved, teenage pussy.
How could I be so fucking jaded at eighteen? I thought to myself as my eyes flicked over to the chat screen. Well, almost nineteen, really. I’d been at this for over six months now. I started within weeks of freshman year orientation.
Daddyluv
Can you finger yourself for Daddy?
I ran one hand up my stomach, pressing it into my breast so that the soft flesh bulged out on either side, then letting it drop so that it jiggled when released. I was tiny but I had boobs most girls would kill for. The kind that pointed up toward the ceiling when viewed from the front and showed just a bit on either side of my back when viewed from behind.
I leaned forward so that my hand was on the desk, my breasts dangling right in front of the camera. I moved my other hand down my stomach and circled my clit as my eyes flicked back and forth between the camera and the chat screen.
I read each line my ‘Daddy’ typed and giggled or put on a shy act about what I was being asked to do. I was so tired of performing this same act it was almost nauseating. How they could pay for the exact same thing night after night was beyond me.
“There’s not a single new idea on this planet, Ashley,” my friend Sasha told me. “Everything’s been done to death. If you think you’re going to come up with some original act that will shake the world, you’re fooling yourself.”
Sasha had been the one to introduce me to camming. Well, not introduce me to the whole phenomenon, but she was the one that got me out of the mainstream sites with all the assholes and their bizarre demands—like vomiting onto a dildo or pooping in a jar and sending it to the client. Or the dickheads that referred to me as “bb” in the chat sessions. And those were usually the nice ones. Sasha told me about Daddyland, a cam girl site with a very specialized clientele. The kind that weren’t butt-chugging during rush week to get into a frat or telling girls to show their tits. They were a much more refined crowd.
The girls had to be invited to Daddyland by a current babygirl—a word Daddyland used for all of their cam girls. The girls were very heavily vetted, fetching much higher quarter-hourly fees than anywhere else on the internet.
A Daddy could hang out in the public lounge for free—apart from the monthly membership fees— or choose a babygirl and pay in fifteen minute increments. Once he got to know one of the babygirls better, he usually booked a specialty hour-plus session at least once a month.
There were no discounts though. The Daddies didn’t need them. They were all incredibly wealthy men with more money in their off-shore bank accounts than eighteen-year-old girls who were willing to please them for free. They wanted discrete and they wanted immediate gratification.
The catch was we had to look young. Very young. Of course, all the girls were over eighteen. Some were in their mid twenties. But as soon as a girl started to look even a little bit over the age of eighteen or nineteen, she was out. And Sasha was on her way out. She’d been on Daddyland for over six years and, while she still had her own private clients who saw her on a regular basis, her views had been dwindling for the last year.
She knew this day was coming, though. She’d been planning for it for years—socking away as much of her earnings as possible. She told me she had enough in the bank right now to retire on, if she moved to a small beach town in Mexico. But I knew she was leaving with one of her daddies. She was leaving to be the, most likely, secret girlfriend of a very wealthy older gentleman.
Daddyluv
Come on, Ami, finger yourself for Daddy
Not only were Daddyland’s babygirls screened and investigated, the clients were too. Daddyland was a very exclusive club. The fees were higher because the standards were higher, and because the clients were able, and very willing, to pay. Some of the clients thought that the higher fees gave them certain perks, like actually dating and fucking the girls, but most of them understood that the high fees were for complete anonymity and convenience. And for getting exactly what they wanted during a session.
They ranged from men in their late thirties up to grandpas in their seventies, many of whom couldn’t be bothered with finding legit camgirl sites online, let alone the babygirl of their dreams. So they paid a fee to belong to a site that catered directly to them, and an even higher fee to keep their babygirls happy.
This was one of the main draws for me. When I started, one of my main concerns was my boyfriend—and his creepy friends—finding out about what I was doing. I was in my freshman year at a private collage and the thought of being outed by some campus assholes was a very real fear.
The irony of the situation was that my boyfriend and his friends had given me the idea in the first place. I was ove
r at my boyfriend’s dorm room and he and his friends were streaming a game on Twitch. My boyfriend’s roommate, Chad, owned the channel and he would stream for about six to eight hours a day. Whenever someone left a tip over fifty bucks, Chad would say their name and do some fancy-ass move with his avatar.
While I was there one day, bored out of my skull while everyone watched Chad play some damned game, Chad did his little move when someone left a big tip, then my boyfriend called him a filthy cam whore. I was kind of shocked because I had actually been looking into camming for a couple weeks—checking out different sites and reading about how to get into it. But I hadn’t told anyone.
I was even more annoyed with Chad’s response: “I’m no cam slut, dude! I don’t show my junk to any old pervert!” Then the idiotic conversation that followed about bitches that will do anything for money. I was so disgusted by them that I left and decided right then that I was going to become a cam girl. I figured I’d hate myself a lot more if I sat there and listened to their bullshit than I would for actually doing the very thing they claimed was so filthy. As far as I was concerned, it was those boy’s attitudes that were disgusting.
It was insane to me that the world was so willing to consume porn, but when the porn became too real—when they found out you were one of the ones that made them come—you were suddenly garbage. Worse than garbage—a criminal. You were stealing from them somehow by getting paid to show them your pussy.
I’m sure everyone’s heard the horror stories of groups of rabid guys who outed some cam girl they’d been jerking to—going so far as to drive them to another college in another state just because they had the audacity to show their own pussy online. How those assholes justified their actions was beyond me, but once the accusations started, everyone—even other girls—wanted in on the witch hunt. I was going to make sure nothing like that ever happened to me.
