Camgirl

by Isa Mazzei

  “Okay, you need to do it harder.”

  “Harder?”

  “Yeah, that was barely anything. My guys aren’t gonna go for that.” I wasn’t lying. I knew they could tell in my show if I wasn’t spanking myself at full-force. They’d be able to tell in two seconds if Molly wasn’t trying or if I was faking my reactions.

  “Okay,” she smiled. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

  “That’s the point.” I tried to be patient.

  “What is?”

  “The point is to hurt me.”

  “Okay, just tell me if it hurts too much, okay?”

  I repressed the urge to roll my eyes. “Okay. Let’s just go again. Skip the gag part. Just go into it.”

  “Okay.” Molly walked back to her starting place, then sauntered over to me. “Have you been a bad slave?”

  I nodded my head meekly.

  “I’m going to have to punish you.”

  “I dare you.” I felt the sneer in my voice. I hoped it pissed her off.

  Whip! The riding crop hit my ass with a definite sting this time.

  “Harder.”

  Whip! A deep sting. A flash of red. A hand over my mouth.

  “Harder!”

  Whip! Whip! Whip! I could feel the bruising, the deep, sore feeling of layers of broken blood vessels. I was still thinking too much.

  “Harder!” I let my teeth sink into the velvet of the chair. My jaw hurt. Whip! Whip! I sunk into the pain, willing my brain to shut off.

  “HARDER!!” It was a shriek this time, desperate. Whip! I bit into the side of her chair. I let out a soft moan.

  “HARDER!!” Whip! Whip! Whip! The pain blasted everything else out of my head, and for just a moment, it was quiet.

  Then: “Oh my God, Una, I broke it!”

  “What?”

  “Your whip, I totally broke it!” Molly dissolved into giggles.

  “Say it like it’s hot.”

  “What?”

  I was breathless. “Say it like it’s hot. That it broke. Hit me again then say it like it’s hot.” My voice was angry, harsh.

  “Right. Sorry.” Molly took her position again. Whip! Whip! She hit me hard. I felt the crop cutting my skin, first on my ass, then on my back as Molly really got into it, moving the crop higher and lower. For just a split second, I felt bliss again. I leaned into it, letting it engulf me. There was nothing but me, my body, the searing pain on my back.

  “We broke the whip. Damn, that’s hot.” Molly ran the whip down my back. “What are we going to do next, my little slave?” She circled my body. “Shall I take you to my room?”

  I nodded.

  “Holy shit, that was great!” She suddenly broke the scene. “We’ll have to cut it together, but I think it’ll be good.” She held out my riding crop. The leather was splitting away from the metal rod inside.

  “Oh no, you’re bleeding!” Molly was gleeful.

  I stared blankly at the broken crop, then touched my ass. “I am?”

  “Yeah. The metal must have cut you. Oh my God, this is such a good teaser. Wait, let me grab my phone.”

  Molly grabbed her phone and then instructed me to bend over while she snapped a picture of the blood. “Yay! This is going to be the best tweet ever.”

  I smiled, frustrated. I needed her to actually hurt me. I needed her to control me, to boss me around. I didn’t want to give her directions. This wasn’t working.

  “All right, let’s shoot the bedroom scene.” Molly was already moving the light into the other room. “I wouldn’t, like, whip you or anything while you’re going down on me, right?” she asked.

  “No, you should. And like, pull my hair and stuff.”

  “Could I use this?” Molly motioned to a leather flogger with a glass handle I had brought.

  “Yeah, use that. And use your hands. You could choke me too, maybe. Like, let’s start kissing, and I’ll move down your body.”

  “And I choke you then?”

  “Yeah. Exactly.”

  “Great.” Molly nodded. “Then you go down on me, and bam, the rest is cash!”

  I smiled weakly. “Get it, girl.”

  We started the scene.

  “Ready?” Molly had stripped down and sat coyly on the side of the bed, perched so her whole body was on camera. She beckoned me toward her, flicking the flogger surprisingly expertly.

  I sat next to her and kissed her. She tugged lightly on my hair. Harder, Molly, I thought. I moved my lips down her body. Her skin was soft, warm. Okay, I thought. Time to choke me. Her tiny fingers closed around my throat. I let out a deliberate breath. She squeezed, weakly.

  Harder.

  She released her grip.

  Disappointed, I moved my head downward.

  Molly spread her legs and then slid her hand around the back of my head. I leaned forward, ready to go down on her. She ran the flogger up my back and lightly flicked it.

  Molly’s fingers were in the way. She had her hand blocking her pussy. I looked up at her. She led my hand up her thighs and placed it gently over her clitoris and vulva. On camera, it looked like she was guiding my fingers inside her. She even let out a little gasp as she let go of my hand and threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back. I moved my elbow back and forth, as if I were fingering her, really just gently tapping her pubic bone with my hand. She moaned.

  Great. Even the vanilla stuff was going to be fake. I leaned my face between her legs, placing my tongue against the back of my hand. She squealed. I went down on my hand.

  I felt humiliated, and not in a good way. Molly cried out. It was like she had forgotten any part of being dominant. Hit me, I thought. I willed her to remember the flogger. I moved my elbow faster. Molly gasped. I make slurping noises against my hand. Molly faked a loud orgasm.

  I moved my face and my hand back and wiped my saliva off my mouth.

  Molly kissed me again, giggling. “I taste so good,” she informed the camera.

  Disappointed, I sat back on my heels. “So good,” I echoed.

  We wrapped the shoot and Molly told me we could go out for sushi while Ben cleaned up the apartment. I declined, as politely as I could, claiming I was tired and wanted to cam that night. In truth, I felt confused and desperate.

  I drove back from Denver blasting KBCO with a half tray of pussy pops on the seat next to me. I tried to get to the root of what felt wrong. A thought kept threatening to push its way into my conscious brain but I subdued it. No. Shooting with Molly had been too fake. That was the issue. My video with Molly wasn’t enough. I wanted more.

  And I needed it to be real.

  Psychobabble

  My experience with Molly only confirmed how much I enjoyed my pain shows. Unlike other types of shows, which began to feel tired and stale after a few months, my pain shows just got better. I pushed myself to higher extremes. I was excited to sign on, and for once I wanted to get to the cumshow.

  Bomb and I started flirting—more frequently and more obviously. He began private messaging me during my shows. One night, he messaged me when I brought out my new collar. He told me I had a beautiful tiny neck. I took the collar and put it on, threading the leash through a pair of cuffs attached to my ankles. If I extended my body fully, it would choke me. Bomb told me the thought of me choking turned him on so much. I told him he turned me on, too. I began waiting for his messages. Pushing myself to impress him. During the middle of a control cumshow one night, Bomb messaged me.

  Private Message from bombNo.20: I want you…i want to break you.

  The chat was moving fast. I was holding a vibe to my clit. On, off. On, off again. Someone asked if I could put a clamp on my clit. I did it. I ripped it off, looking into the camera as the pain shot up my torso. I kept my eyes open, staring at the camera. Staring at Bomb.

  “Y
ou want to break me, huh?” I said it to the room, but I meant it for him.

  Private Message from bombNo.20: you’re driving me crazy

  Private Message from bombNo.20: I feel like an animal

  “Good luck with that, this barely hurts.” I smirked into the camera.

  Unas_bee: break Una! Break Una!

  RomeoTurtle: pussy spanks over the clamps with the paddle

  Door_Open tipped 100 tokens: rip the clamps off again then, and put in a gag, I don’t want to hear your scream

  I put on a ball gag, buckling it tightly behind my head. I was breathing hard. I paddled my pussy over the clit clamps, the clamps biting into my skin. I grabbed both chains in my hand and with a grunt ripped them off, a searing pain shooting up my body.

  Private Message from bombNo.20: fuck i want to destroy you.

  I wanted him to destroy me, too.

  After my show that night, I FaceTimed Bomb. The moment he picked up I began talking, not even bothering to say hello.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

  “What?” Bomb was silent, his eyes cold and mischievous.

  “What are you thinking about?” I snapped. “Tell me.”

  Bomb laughed. He knew what I wanted. My breath came heavy, hot. I moved my face away from my phone.

  “I’m thinking about…”

  I inhaled sharply. I didn’t say anything. I waited for him to finish.

  “How nice it would be…”

  “What would be?” I couldn’t help myself.

  “Biting your lips. Your little throat. How easily you bruise.”

  “Oh yeah?” I felt hot and tingly. Dizzy.

  “Yeah.” His voice was soft. His arm was under the covers. “Been thinking about that all night.”

  “What else have you been thinking about?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Maybe…”

  “Say it.” I was thirsty. He could hear it.

  His voice grew hard. Cold. “Slapping you. Your pretty little eyes full of fear.”

  I felt a jolt. I let my own arm reach under the covers, off camera. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah…” He let out a soft breath. “Fuck. Fuck you’re beautiful.” He gasped. “I want you wrecked.”

  “You gonna wreck me, Bomb?” My hips pushed up against my hand. I could barely think.

  “I want you on the ground, covered in spit. Piss. Sweat.”

  I didn’t care if he saw I was touching myself.

  “Gripping your hair…” Bomb continued. I closed my eyes and felt his words. “I’m gonna rip it out by the roots.”

  “Fuck.” I was getting close. “We can make that happen.” I felt out of control. Like I was falling. There were camgirls who married guys from their rooms. It had happened.

  “Yeah?” Bomb let out a groan.

  “Yeah. I want you to wreck me.”

  After he hung up and went to bed, I lay awake and stared at the ceiling. This was the missing ingredient, the thing I had been looking for all along. I was certain of it. This was why I didn’t like sex. I just wasn’t having the right kind of sex. I needed to touch him. I needed him to touch me. I knew I had said no more guys from my room. But Bomb was different.

  ×××

  “So uh, this is my apartment.” Bomb and I stood in my kitchen just a week later. I had paid for his ticket and his taxi from the airport, and now here he was, just a foot away from me.

  “I can see that,” he laughed, comfortably. It was the opposite of seeing Demon for the first time. This guy wasn’t nervous. I was.

  “Yeah. So. Anyway. Are you hungry?” It was 8:30 p.m. Late for dinner, but I had been too anxious to eat earlier.

  “Not really.”

  “Okay.” I glanced at his bag inside my door.

  “Can I give you a hug?” Bomb smiled and held out his arms. We hadn’t properly said hello yet.

  “Yeah, of course.” I leaned into his arms. He was warm and soft. I took a deep breath. He smelled safe.

  “Well. Nice place you’ve got here,” he said, stepping into the living room. “Good light, I imagine.”

  I laughed, a bit forced. “Well, thank you.” There was an awkward pause. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m all right.” Bomb smiled at me.

  “We could sit on my porch?” I offered. I led him out onto the balcony and sat next to him on the small wicker love seat. I didn’t know what to say. Bomb’s shoulder was warm against mine. I took his hand. He stared out over the dark street. I stared at him.

  Bomb looked down at our hands clasped together. I had a small bruise near my wrist from my cuffs. He traced it with his finger, lightly.

  “Why do you like destroying things?” I asked him.

  Bomb gripped my wrist with his fingers, pressing lightly on my bruise. I tried not to flinch. “I don’t know if I have an answer. It feels impulsive and raw.” He shrugged and dropped my hand. It was windy out, and the trees hurled themselves into each other while we watched, quiet.

  I looked at the side of his face. His hair and beard were thick. Strong shoulders. Strong arms. In a rush, I leaned over and kissed him. He kissed me back. I bit his lip. He bit me back, harder. He put his hand on my neck and squeezed gently. I opened my eyes. He squeezed harder. I stared into his eyes.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

  “Yeah?” I gasped.

  He breathed out. “Yeah. What are you feeling? Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  “Crazy.” I wanted to forget everything. I wanted him to choke me until I couldn’t think anymore.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” His fingers tightened. The edges of my vision went black. My voice was just a thin rasp.

  “Why?”

  Because something inside me is broken. Because I can’t be happy. Because I’m insane. “You.”

  “Do you want me?”

  “Yes. Yes, I want you.”

  “Tell me how badly you want me.” His eyes were cold, his voice unfeeling.

  “So badly.” For just a second, I thought I would pass out.

  As if reading my mind, he said, “You’re so beautiful when you’re afraid.” Aaron released my neck and slapped me across the face. Hard.

  “Hurt me,” I whispered. He slapped me again, the force of it knocking my head against the back of the love seat. “Fuck me.” It wasn’t a command. It was a plea.

  Aaron shoved three fingers inside my mouth, hooking them over my bottom teeth. He yanked my head against the love seat and pulled my legs across his lap with his other hand, roughly unbuttoning my pants. I could feel how wet I was against his fingers as he shoved them inside of me. He moved his hand quickly.

  “I want you to come for me, you little whore.”

  I nodded. He took his fingers out of my mouth and slapped me again. I repressed a whimper.

  “Come for me.” I bucked my hips up against his hand. I wasn’t going to come. He wasn’t giving me long enough. I willed myself to come for him. To obey. His grip tightened around my neck. “Come for me, whore.” It wasn’t a question. I wasn’t going to be able to come. Fuck. I tightened myself around his fingers and let out a moan, faking an orgasm that I worried all my neighbors could hear.

  He released my neck and took his hand from my pants. I lay there, gasping, glassy-eyed. Don’t cry, I commanded myself. It’s fine. The first time is never good with a new person. It’s fine. It’s okay you had to fake it.

  Aaron leaned down and bit my lip, hard. Too hard. It throbbed. I tasted blood. I looked up into his eyes. He was smiling down at me. Such beautiful eyes. Suddenly, it was just me and him again. No intrusive thoughts, no thinking about how I hadn’t eaten dinner yet, nothing. I didn’t care that I hadn’t come. Just Aaron, me, and the throb of m
y pulse.

  “Let’s go inside,” I gestured. I got up and led him from the porch. The air smelled electric. I pulled the door shut against the wail of the wind. The sky had darkened into a royal blue. It looked like midnight.

  “Do you want me?” I asked him, pulling his hand and leading him to my bedroom. Aaron stood near the door, breathing heavily. I glanced at him sideways and moved toward my bed. “I want you,” I continued. “I want you in my mouth. I want you inside me…”

  Before I could even make it onto the bed, Aaron had grabbed me by the throat. He pushed me onto my bed and pulled off his pants, undoing his belt with one hand while holding me in place. He took two fingers and pried open my jaw. He grabbed his hard penis and stuck it down my throat.

  I sucked it, willing my bruised throat to open. I gagged. Choked. He pulled out and flipped me easily over onto my stomach. I let my mind slide into blankness, focusing only on my body. Sensation. Pain. He hovered over me and fucked me again with his fingers—fast, hard. He dug his other hand into my back, breaking the skin. His fingers were rough. It hurt. It felt good. He spun me back over and put his dick back in my mouth. He yanked my head by the hair, forcing my face closer, closer, deeper, deeper.

  I began to feel suffocated. Okay, this is fine, I reminded myself. This is the real-life version of what happens in your cam room. You like this. This is good. Aaron’s fingers dug into my shoulder. He moaned. Something inside me wanted me to remember. Forcing me to remember.

  “God, you’re so, so fucking beautiful,” he whispered. What was this feeling? Like a fist deep in my gut. I felt itchy. My skin was crawling.

  His hand steered the back of my head. In, out, in, out. This is fine, this is fine, this is fine. Panic. Crushing panic. This is fine. I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating. Shake it off, Isa. Oh, I was going to black out.

  I pulled back. “Sorry, I’m…I’m just…I’m having a panic attack.” I tried to lean forward and take him in my mouth again.

  “What?” He let go of my head and reached for my chin to look at me.

  I shook my head and pushed his dick into my mouth again, trying to relax my throat. He tried to pull himself out. I pushed my face forward. It’s fine. This is fine.