by Abby Angel
I’m ready to keep yelling, maintain the hype in the air. She’s smiling, enthusiastic. Woo!
“Our four-star hypemaster general, in full effect already.” Charlie and I do a fist bump. She’s into it, at least.
This is why I really love the group videos, it’s the only time we get to combine all our talents. I’m the hype chick, getting dudes to fork over cash while celebrating the best damn cam girls in the world. When I do my thing, our cash goals are always met.
“I’m glad we’re all on the same page.” Catherine is still standing by the window. She’s now beaming at us—our happiness means big bucks for her. Mary is already on her way to pick up Jane’s boa.
Catherine makes her way to the easy chair while Mary inspects the boa, trying to act just mildly interested. We all know what she’s thinking. Now perched on the mansion’s most comfortable chair, Catherine gives Mary her nod of approval.
Mary instantly picks up where Jane left off. As Mary goes fucking nuts with the boa, all of us, including Catherine, go fucking nuts for her. It’s going to be a good night.
Darcy
Despite the fact that my penthouse is larger than most houses, I find myself not enjoying it often. Many times, I’m glued to the computer doing work shit.
The room that gets the most action is obviously the bedroom. I’ve imported the finest blankets and installed a mirror on the ceiling to give women a first-class sexual experience. Tonight, I’m not trying to find an escort to bring home. I’m not out with Chuck trying to hit on girls who just turned 21 at a bar.
I’m online, sitting in the dark on my computer, waiting to see Lizzie.
Technically, I’m supposed to be doing research on the Bennet Babes for the upcoming investment to make sure it’s financially secure. Instead, I click over to the group show.
Lizzie’s there in the room. She’s fully clothed and waiting with that smirk of disdain on her lips.
This is a much different experience than last time.
Before, Lizzie was simply an idea. She could have just been a computer program designed to get me off. But she sucked my cock in that very room. We fucked in the back of a limo.
Lizzie sure does know how to work a crowd. “Come on. Is that really all you can afford to pitch in?” she asks.
There are a bunch of comments on the side of the screen from guys trying to get her to undress. A lot of them are only pitching in a buck or two to try to reach the goal.
She’s a good hype woman. I bet a lot of the guys watching her now are more of the submissive types. They’re more likely to respond to a woman berating them rather than a girl softly cooing at them to send more money.
As Mr. Big, I send in a comment of my own. “Why don’t you throw these guys a bone? You could make their night by showing your tits.”
I watch as Lizzie’s eyes dart from side to side of her screen. I can tell she’s reading my comment because a slight smirk comes across her face.
“Well, I see we have a high roller tonight. Good to see you again, Mr. Big. Now that’s a real man right there.”
I switch over to the private comments. That way only she’ll read them. I’m sure of this point.
I send, “How much money do you think you could get if the two of us fucked onscreen?”
No one else but Lizzie can read it, and I know she’s looking at it now. She can’t comment directly on it, but she seems to be getting in the mood.
“Well, I don’t know about all you, but I’m starting to get a little hot in here,” Lizzie says. She starts grabbing her tits.
She’s wearing a sheer-white tank top. I can tell she’s not wearing a bra underneath it, and her nipples are just barely poking through.
“Come on, everyone. You want to see my tits, don’t you?” The comment section starts lighting up. Everyone is posting something about her tits.
“Before I start playing with myself, I want you all to do something first.” She’s looking right at the camera. Everyone else may think she’s reading from a script or something, but I can tell she’s talking directly to me.
“I want you to take your cock out and start stroking it. Can you do that for me, baby?”
I laugh. I bet there are dozens of guys all taking their cocks out in unison to jack off to Lizzie feeling herself up. But I know she really wants me to cum. I’m happy to oblige, so I take my cock out of my pants and slowly start to stroke it.
I go slow at first. I don’t want to cum too quickly now. But if there’s any woman who could make me cum prematurely, it’d definitely be Lizzie.
I send her another private message. “Talk dirty to me, baby.”
She receives the message. She looks at the camera again and says, “I want you to fuck me, baby. I want to feel your hard cock inside me.
“Go slow, baby. Go slow. Fuck me like you’ve never fucked any girl before. I want you to cum anywhere you want, baby. In every hole. I want you. I want you so bad.”
I can’t help but masturbate more quickly. I want her so bad. God, what’s she doing to me.
I’ve never gotten involved with a potential client before. She’s making me break my personal rules. I’ve been trying to ignore it since the beginning, but I have to admit something to myself:
I have feelings for Lizzie. And I don’t even know what the fuck to do with that.
Maybe I’ve been trying to convince myself that this was purely physical. I’ve wanted to view Lizzie as simply another conquest. Another woman for me to fuck and then move on.
But Lizzie is not just like any other woman. She’s different, and I want her here with me now.
I don’t want her talking to these other guys who have probably already cum. I can feel myself reaching my climax, so I reach for the tissues next to the computer and cum into the wad. Once I have both hands free again, I give Lizzie a huge tip so that she reaches her goal.
This also means I get a private chat with Lizzie.
Lizzie looks at the screen, realizing she met her goal. She says, “Well boys, it looks like Mr. Big is the big winner again tonight. I’ll be going into a private chat with him for the moment, but don’t go too far away.”
The comment section at the bottom of the screen disappears. The comments of guys begging her to stay goes away. Now it’s just me and her.
“I had a feeling you couldn’t stay away for too long,” she says.
I type in, “I needed to see you again. I want to fuck you so badly.”
“Well, for the moment,” she begins, “I guess this will have to do.” She takes off her top and removes her shorts. She starts slowly fingering herself.
“What do you say? Do you want to get each other off?”
I start stroking my cock, gearing up for round two. “Let’s do it,” I type in.
In unison, we both start moaning and masturbating.
Lizzie
It’s a bit anticlimactic—or at least, as anticlimactic as it could be—with my fingers in my cunt, trying to make my best ecstatic face for the camera.
Well, if you saw what was happening on the laptop, phone and tablet screens of countless horny Bennet Babes enthusiasts throughout the world, things were actually very pro-climactic.
Either way, my job here is done. It ended earlier than usual, and fuck—it seems like Mr. Big’s not even paying attention. Is he?
Charlie, Jane, Lydia, Mary—they’re all compressed into a slurping, kissing, licking, moaning little group. Don’t get me wrong, there’s all kinds of complex stuff going on. I’m just usually checked out by this point.
The evening’s goal is obliterated, with enough viewers tuned in to fill Madison Square Garden—or at least Mercury Lounge. This show is a roaring, record-shattering success, the best in the site’s history. And yet I’m a million miles away from it right now.
The number of viewers logged in is getting dangerously close to four digits. I can’t even think of scrolling through that list of screen-names.
I know a lot of them would love for me
to jump in on the action, but that’s too bad. These fuckers should know how it works by now, anyway. Plus it’s not like I’m thinking about any of them.
Well, there is one user I’m thinking about. His screen-name is a Sex and the City reference, and it’s probably buried deep in the master list of viewers.
Luckily, he’s top of the list in the chat window of my computer.
I could be texting with Darcy right now or even video chatting through my phone.
Instead, I’m typing back and forth with Mr. Big through the Bennet Babes website.
Somehow we’re out of our private chat, and we’re just messaging on the public chatroom, visible to hordes of hormonal dudes who can also see me clearly on camera. Most of them would have trouble typing right now, but some are surely wondering why Mr. Big has so much more sway with me than any of their sorry asses.
Mr. Big just typed: “Stop. Looking. At. The. Camera.”
I pivot to the closest wall, away from the other cam girls, keeping my phone with me. Mr. Big’s next comment is already on my screen: “That is the OPPOSITE of what needs to happen!”
How is there nobody else chatting? I only banned a couple dozen users from the chatroom tonight. Oh, never mind.
My mouth is dry, my stomach churning. I know exactly what Mr. Big is getting at. I inhale deep, keeping as quiet and still as I can so the camera and mic won’t pick it up. Lydia’s space is covered in new layers of blindingly white latex paint.
All the cam show craziness is behind me. All I can see in front of me is a white wall, and a white door. The off-camera lights are so bright I can’t even see the doorknob. What the hell am I afraid of, anyway?
Mr. Big just typed: “One of the best things about being human, Lizzie. I know this is it for you. I want to see you step towards it. Turn that chair around.”
If anyone’s still reading the chat, who knows what the hell they’re thinking about those lines of text that just popped up. One thing’s for sure though: Mr. Big isn’t giving up. Time to take a step towards it.
I swivel the office chair quickly to my right like I’m pulling off an adhesive bandage. Shit, it’s only work. I’ve watched these shows plenty of times. But have I really?
Jane is hovering over Lydia, who’s looking up at Jane with hunger from her chair. Jane’s hands are on Lydia’s shoulders, tilting both Lydia and the chair back slightly. Jane has her right knee up on chair, and she brings herself slowly closer to Lydia as the chair tilts back more and more.
When it looks like their faces are about to collide, Jane slowly licks Lydia’s cheek, and then in a flash their tongues are in each other’s mouths, their tits are all smooshed together, and the chair snaps back to its upright position. For the first time, I notice Mary fingering herself just behind them.
Mr. Big just typed: “Not bad. What do you think? Five stars? Four and a half?”
What do I type back? I feel silly, still wearing my tank-top while the rest of them are stark naked.
I leave my phone on the chair arm and slip the top off casually, showing it very quickly to the camera for some reason before throwing it onto the eggshell white chaise lounge in the far corner of the room. The cool, rough fabric of the office chair doesn’t feel half bad on my bare ass.
I look back towards the main show: Jane and Lydia are still probing each other’s mouths with their tongues, with Jane’s hand’s giving Lydia’s pussy some attention for good measure. Mary and Charlie are standing right behind them, caressing each other’s tits and asses ever so gently while locking eyes deeply.
Damn, girls, these really are pros.
I notice there’s a new message from Mr. Big: “What about the Couplet?”
The Couplet is a sturdy, dark red and silver vibrator that’s currently sitting on its stand next to Lydia’s desktop monitor. One of our coders wrote a program linking the Couplet’s Bluetooth controls with the site’s tipping platform.
When engaged, a customer can make the Couplet vibrate instantly by tipping. The bigger the tip, the more power the Couplet gets. We get to enjoy stuff like that by calling the coders “Bennet Brains” instead of “Bennet Nerds.”
The Couplet’s a fun idea, but it’s not used much. But if that’s what Mr. Big wants…
The Couplet is always charged, synched and ready to go. I don’t type a word in the chat, I just open the Couplet app on my phone to engage the program as I grab the vibrator. The thing starts buzzing like crazy as soon as I take it off the stand.
Oh, yes, it’s working, and I’m a bit richer. That’s good.
I look over to see if anyone notices that I’m using the Couplet. Nope. Lydia’s is still in her chair, and in absolute ecstasy as Jane is kneeling on the white, plush carpet and gorging on her pussy. I swivel the chair around to see Mary on the bed behind me. She’s leaning back against the pillows, smart enough to choose an unobstructed spot in the camera view.
Charlie is walking towards her. Slowly. I feel the need to swivel away from the bed. Whew.
We have some lucky ducks watching the show tonight. The Couplet buzzes briefly in my hand.
I don’t even look at my phone. Mr. Big has chosen another way to communicate. I place the edge of the Couplet on my pussy lips.
Well, it seems like I’m really wet for some reason. But the Couplet doesn’t start up again. You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Big, I marvel.
I swivel back around to the bed, and the Couplet starts going bananas.
Charlie’s pushing Mary down into the pillows as they make out with abandon. The Couplet is now slipping up and down my lips and vibrating with wild power. Mary reaches out and blindly starts spanking Charlie’s well-rounded butt-cheeks.
And I need to…turn away for a moment.
Without thinking, I start lightly grazing my clit with the fingertips of my free hand as I turn away. I want to insert the Couplet, just a little bit, but it’s stopped. So, I keep swiveling until I can see Lydia and Jane again.
There we go, the vibrations begin anew, as strong as ever. It looks like Lydia and Jane are in the aftermath of at least one orgasm, as Jane has the remains of a good squirting on her and doesn’t seem to mind.
As Jane tongues Lydia’s nipples, Lydia laughingly starts running her fingers around Jane’s own left breast, and the Couplet — now jackhammering away — takes my guidance to lightly start to go in, and back out, and in a little more this time, and slowly out again.
I look at Jane and Lydia, who are sticking their tongues out at the camera, sassy and defiant.
The already white room starts to go almost supernaturally bright as I feel the shudder of an extraordinary climax pulsing through me in waves. It seems to go on and on, peaking in intensity and eventually fading away gently.
I pick up my phone so I can type a message to Mr. Big: “Yeah, I would say five stars.”
Lizzie
“Did you sleep well?” I’m asked.
Jane is shoveling in a spoonful of organic maple granola and soy milk with her usual breakfast speed. It’s early for her, only about 1 p.m. That’s good, though—I need the mansion to myself today.
Jane laughs with her mouth full, picks up her cereal bowl and takes it with her wherever she’s going.
“Be careful driving with your breakfast,” I yell out to the departing Jane. She laughs from the hallway. We both know that Jane is sure as hell not driving anywhere. Now I can check her off my mental list.
Mary’s out all day with the guy she’s pseudo-dating—maybe all night, too—and Charlie’s shopping for new show wardrobe, which is a multi-hour extravaganza every time. Lydia’s out of town, for real this time, visiting relatives; and most importantly, Catherine is meeting with the merch people and later some of the Bennet Brains. It could be months before I have the mansion to myself again, which is why I have the appointment set with Hawk for another tour.
I don’t know what kind of shit is going on behind the business scenes, and I can’t be bothered to care much. All I know is that it�
�s taking too damn long for Hawk to commit. I need him desperately to own Bennett Babes and to make a serious bid that cannot be refused.
After last night’s Mr. Big-enabled taste of fulfillment, I cannot give up.
Where the hell is he, anyway? My phone buzzes with a text just as I’m digging it impatiently from my pocket. A message from Hawk is on the screen: “Pullion up nowx.”
Huh. Even with his ancient phone, usually Hawk’s texts aren’t that malformed. “Pulling up now” is the 21st-century human translation.
Whatever. His timing is perfect. I have hours to convince him, if need be.
By the time I open the heavy-ass door to the driveway, the Escalade limo is driving off and, I see that Hawk is doing a bit better than last time. Instead of standing in the driveway like a denim-covered garden gnome, the Hawkster’s walking towards the door, decked out in a tasteful chocolate-brown corduroy jacket, deep blue button-down, and straight-leg black jeans. The jeans are meant for someone half Hawk’s age, but he still looks a fuck of a lot better than last time.
This better be an omen that he means business.
The Hawk-brand weirdness is back as he stands a few inches away from me silently. He’s grinning, but not as big as usual. He’s thinking about last night’s show, probably. I steal a line from Jane: “Sleep well, Mr. Wickham?”
The Hawk lets himself go with genuine laughter.
“Oh, I did. You’re not kidding about that magic stuff. Pure magic. I’m still speechless, which doesn’t happen to me often.”
I can’t get myself to join Hawk’s laughing, but it’s yet another sign I’m right about this situation. Bennet Babes is mostly supported by fans, and Hawk is a fan with tons of capital and industry experience. I need to encourage this the best I can.
“As you know, Mr. Wickham, that’s the type of performance we can just throw together anytime. If I may say so myself, even something we throw together is head and shoulders above anything else in the industry. And I’m not just tooting my own horn; it’s a group effort.”
