by JB Duvane
BigSir.
He was one of my regular clients. I saw him every single night. That was pretty normal in the beginning of a client/cam girl relationship. They couldn’t get enough of the new girl so they were willing to pay a lot for even fifteen minutes of your time. But I had been camming for BigSir for over two months and still had a nightly appointment with him. It was set for 10 p.m., and he would ping me so that I knew he was in the chatroom. But really, I was always waiting for him well ahead of ten o’clock.
If ever there was a cam girl who was in love with a nameless, faceless box of text, it was me with BigSir. He was everything I’d ever dreamt of, and even though I had no idea what he looked like or what he was like in real life, in my head—and during our sessions—he was perfect.
BigSir (Drake)
“How are you tonight, Ashley?”
I kept my typing to a minimum, only writing enough to ask her questions that she could answer via the one-way video chat. It was never my intention to give her any information about myself. I only wanted to know about her, and I wanted her to know just how interested I was—in her.
And I was interested in her. Very interested.
I could tell by the look on her face that she was excited to see me—her ice-blue eyes shimmering and sparkling when she looked into the camera. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew full well that her job was to make the clients feel like they were the only one on the planet that she wanted to see … to talk to … to fuck. But I’d been watching her for weeks now and I could read her like a book. I’d seen how she responded to the different clients and I knew exactly what her body language was telling me.
It was telling me that she could barely contain herself. She was giddy and relaxed, and her smile—it was just beautiful. Completely different than how she was with the other clients. They got a pretty showing of teeth out of her, but they never got the incredible dazzling look in her eyes that she gave me.
Plus there was the way she looked up just slightly when she was thinking about her answers. Knowing a little about physical signs in a person who was lying led me to believe that her answers to my questions were real. And the way she fidgeted in her seat. These were things that could have definitely been mannerisms that showed her youthful demeanor, but I was sure that wasn’t the case. Both from what I’d seen with her online, and when I spoke to her before that—in person.
She looked into the camera, her smile wide and bright and filling up her eyes. “I’m really good! Tonight I’ve been doing some editing on my latest short story that’s due for a class tomorrow—“
“You’ll have to let me read it sometime,” I replied, catching her in the middle of a sentence. She read what I’d written and her smile stretched even wider across her heart-shaped face.
“I’d love for you to read it, Sir. I’d love the feedback. But not until it’s much better. I’d be too embarrassed to show it to you now.” Her face had suddenly turned a delicious shade of dark pink.
“I’ll be happy to read it whenever you’re ready,” I typed. “Did you get your Doki Doki box yet?”
Her face turned an even deeper shade of pink.
“Oh my, God! You don’t want to hear about that, do you?” she said through hands that covered her face. I’d seen her do this with the other clients, but it never came off quite like it did when she was genuinely embarrassed. It was about the most endearing thing I’d ever seen. “It’s all little kid stuff! You couldn’t possibly be interested in any of that.” She looked so gorgeous, with wispy strands of long, blonde hair falling in front of her face and covering her hands, and then just her eyes when she moved her hands away.
“I’m interested in everything that’s important to you, Ashley. Tell me about what’s in the box.”
She read what I’d typed and smiled, with a cute little eye roll that showed me how silly she felt. “Okay.” She jumped up and disappeared from view for a moment. When she returned her hands were full of a pile of colorful items, most of which came in the shape of cute animals. She went through each one and explained the purpose and background to me—her favorite being a plastic change purse in the shape of a yellow baby chick. I loved watching her eyes light up as she told me about the each item. It seemed like one of the high points of her entire month, when she got that subscription box in the mail. And it if was important to Ashley it was important to me.
“See how cute the baby chick is? I just love him!” She held the change purse up to the camera so I could see it better. “I love most of the stuff they put in the boxes, but this month has been the best by far. There’s a notepad and a pretty pink pen and a really neat washcloth.” She held a washcloth up that was emblazoned with a cartoon image. It took up the entire screen and I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm for the cheap square of terrycloth fabric. It didn’t take lots of money to impress her and I found that incredibly charming.
There was something about Ashley. Something in her presence that was captivating. I knew exactly why she was so popular on this site—and she was popular. She had a waiting list that took a good amount of scrolling to get to the end, and she commanded higher quarter-hour and hourly tip fees than any other girl on the site.
I knew this because I’d been watching her since the beginning. Since even before that, actually. I’d had cameras set up in her room before she even registered for classes. I assigned her to that room myself. I’d set everything up at the college myself—from the room to the four-year scholarship—just for her.
“Are you ready to show me?”
Ashley turned her eyes up to the camera and blinked those gorgeous, sleepy lids a few times. “Yes, Sir.” She gave me a much more sexy smile, and her voice dropped almost a full octave, giving it an incredibly seductive tone. She hesitated for a moment and I asked her if there was anything wrong.
“No! I just … I was just wondering if you wanted me to do anything … different … for you tonight. I can put my vibrator inside myself … either hole … or my fingers … anywhere you want—”
“That won’t be necessary, Ashley. You know what I want to see.”
She smiled, then set everything down on the desk and scooted back in her big, swiveling chair. There were arms on either side of the seat and she swung one leg over each, spreading herself apart for me while she continued to look into the camera. She looked so sweet and small sitting back in that big office chair. It really did add to her youthful presence, which didn’t need much at all. She was almost nineteen, but looked much younger.
During our sessions, I always had the feeling that Ashley wanted to do more to impress me—that she didn’t think she was naughty or exciting enough somehow. Or perhaps she worried that she wasn’t sophisticated enough. That she wasn’t submitting to me as much as I wanted her to, and in a sense she was right. There were definitely things I wanted from her—darker things—but not like this. Not with us separated by miles and a computer screen. The things I wanted from her I wanted to feel with my bare hands. To taste with my mouth. To experience with my cock. And I was willing to wait for those things. I was willing to do just about anything to have her all to myself.
Ashley closed her eyes and moved her hands across her breasts. The nipples jutted upward, hard nubs pointing toward the camera and moving slightly when she brushed over them. She squeezed both breasts, pushing them up and toward each other, then letting them fall so that they bounced.
I never coached her on what to do. In the beginning she asked me—step by step—what I wanted next, but ever since then I just let her touch herself however she wanted to. I knew she was partly doing what she thought I wanted—that every word I’d told her that first time had been burned into her brain and was recalled so that the session was pleasing to me. But I also watched her carefully to see how she did things. I wanted to know exactly what got her off. Like I said, I was very interested in Ashley.
But I also fucking loved that she would do anything to please me. The way she behaved when I was the focus of her a
ttention was intoxicating. She definitely had a gift, and it was hard to ignore. It was a quality that not many girls or women possessed. When spoken to, she would give you her full attention. Those doe-like, angelic eyes of hers gazing up with awe—watching and waiting—looking for just the right thing to latch onto and keep safe for later. She always remembered every word of the conversations we’d had and she would surprise me all the time by bringing things up we had chatted about—no matter how briefly.
The undivided attention she gave me was never fake, but still I couldn’t fucking wait to see those all-consumed eyes looking up at me in person. It was only a matter of time, though, until she was really looking into my eyes instead of at a computer screen with my words typed on it.
I adjusted myself in my chair in front of my thirty-four inch monitor, leaning back and removing my cock from my pants. Some might have found the size of my computer set-up excessive—especially those other schmucks on Daddyland. But for what I needed, it was perfect. I had Ashley’s live stream on the right side, and my own, personal closed circuit stream on the left so that I could see her from all angles.
I watched on both sides as Ashley slipped further down into her chair, her legs moving up and hooking over each arm. On her stream, I viewed her lithe body and her bare pussy from the front, and on my private stream I could clearly see the back of her head and the Daddyland chat box on her monitor. There was also a second camera in her room that showed everything from the ceiling, so I could see her when she was in bed or when she came into or left the room.
I had been watching her for months—well before I joined the exclusive online club that we chatted through or before she enrolled at the college. I’d known Ashley for a long time, and I’d known from the very beginning that my desire for her was wrong.
I’d truly never intended for it to get this out of hand. Not in the beginning, anyway. I’d known her since she was a child, for christ’s sake. But the minute I saw the first signs of her budding womanhood, I couldn’t keep my mind off of her. I kept my distance intentionally, never engaging with more than a cordial greeting and smile, but underneath I was seething with lust for her. But it was more than that. I’ve always wanted more for her. I’ve always wanted to take care of her and protect her. And I thought that’s what I was doing when I installed the cameras.
But when I saw her spread her legs for one of the clients at Daddyland through the closed circuit I’d installed in her dorm room for the first time, I lost all control. I waited for a couple months while I watched her perform for the others, then joined Daddyland and became her main client.
How did I know I was her main client? I could see everything on her chat screen, as well as everything she typed into any website. Any interaction she had with anyone online, or on the phone in her room, I could see and hear. And watching her perform for me—watching her do everything she could to please me—without her realizing it made me harder than I’d ever been in my life. For her or any other woman, including my wife.
I’d spent every evening for months watching her perform for other clients. I even watched some of them become former clients when her schedule became too full. I examined what she did with the others closely and was intrigued when I saw how different she was with me. I made mental notes of how her body reacted when she came for the other clients, which I quickly came to realize was an act. I knew because I’d watched her when she made herself come in her bed at night—when she wasn’t performing for anyone. And the way she came when she knew I was watching was absolutely not an act.
The way her head turned to the side as the orgasm overwhelmed her, and the sound of her voice. With the others it was a thin, high-pitched moan that would move up the scale until she was squealing, but with me it was nothing like that at all. Her moans would deepen until they sounded like something coming from her soul. Her eyes would close and the moment would envelop her, taking her away into a state of pure bliss that was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my life. Far sexier than any fake squeals or screams she gave those other men.
She didn’t know it, but very soon I was going to experience that amazing orgasm of hers right in front of me. I was going to make those deep moans come out of Ashley’s throat and I was going to watch that bliss fill her beautiful face, all while that tight, virgin pussy of hers was wrapped around my throbbing cock.
The Daddies (Ashley)
Freakdaddy
Can I see you in the panties you’ll be sending me this week, sweetie?
I was with one of my very first clients. Freakdaddy had been with me from the very beginning, and because of that I gave him special perks. Early on, when I didn’t have as many clients, I spread myself out a little, branching off into dirty panty selling to see which I liked better. At that time I thought it would be best to diversify and have multiple streams of income. But when I realized that I really didn’t care about the money—I just really liked the live performances—I cut out the panty action for most of the clients.
One of the big deciding factors for me was the extra work that went into actually sending them out. I didn’t mind wearing them and shooting footage of myself masturbating in them, but I hated having to make sure they were sealed air tight and then having to make a special trip out to get them in the mail on time. When I was at my peak I was sending out one pair a day and that meant that I had to go out every single day to not only send the panties out, but sometime to buy new ones too. And I didn’t even attend my classes every day.
It didn’t even matter to me that I had to wear a pair for an entire twenty-four hours to get them dirty enough for the clients. I actually liked how close it made me feel to the clients to wear my panties, sleeping all night in them and rubbing my juices into them when I masturbated.
I knew other girls on other sites had tricks they used so they could sell as many as possible—sometimes shipping out five or six pairs a day. They’d use things like the water from canned tuna and cake frosting smeared just the right way to make it look and smell like the panties had been used. I thought that kind of thing was horrible, and Daddyland had a strict policy on tricking clients like that. I would never even consider trying to trick one of my clients, even the ones I was completely bored with.
When I announced that I wouldn’t be sending out my panties any longer, Freakdaddy practically begged me to make him an exception. But he didn’t act anything like Daddyluv did when he begged me to put my fingers inside myself. When he begged me it just made me think of a pathetic old man in a baggy wife beater and loose boxer shorts sweating his ass off because he was afraid his bitchy wife would catch him looking at young girls.
FreakDaddy had much more finesse with his requests. A much more commanding tone that really got to me. Besides, he’d always been good to me—leaving me tips well over the minimum rate. And his dominant style made me a little hot now and again. He wasn’t anything like BigSir, but he was at least on the right track.
And the things he would ask me to do sometimes kind of turned me on. Like stuff my panties all the way inside myself and keep them there while I masturbated or slept, or wearing them for an extra day or two. He really seemed to like my panties during the times of the month when I had a more pronounced odor. I didn’t understand it, but that wasn’t my job. My job was to make him happy and carry out his requests—and they were different enough that I kind of got off on them at times. Since then he’s been my only dirty panty client.
Freakdaddy was also the first to insist on not only seeing me every night, but also on texting with me throughout the day. I let him get away with it because I was new to the whole camming thing. It was all so fun and thrilling back then. But with each new ‘Daddy’ my schedule became more and more impossible to juggle and my ability to muster up the same amount of enthusiasm diminished.
DarkDom was another early ‘Daddy’ of mine. He wanted a full hour, seven nights a week, for the first month and I let him have it because I was still so inexperienced. I didn’t know about bein
g burnt out yet, and after just a week I swore he was going to be the last. Nightly clients were a pain in the ass sometimes, especially since I didn’t really care about the money at all. But I said yes to him and a couple others because I needed the distraction and, as much as I hated to admit it, I craved the attention.
But when BigSir started coming to my chat room I was immediately intrigued by him. There was something about him, about the words that he used and the tone that came across, that took my breath away. I’d never seen him, of course, but something about the things he said to me, the way he talked to me hit me at my very core. He was so different than the other clients. I’d only been camming for him for a couple of weeks, but he was by far my favorite private client.
He had my private number for texting—and not my Kik name either. My real phone number. I knew it was crazy, but I’d even given him my real name. I didn’t start out with my cutesy ‘Ami’ routine with him like I did with all the others. He asked me if Ami was my real name right after I came with him for the first time and I told him no, that my name was Ashley.
From that point forward he always used Ashley when he asked me a question—not a nickname or generic term like little girl, the way the others addressed me—and I really liked that. I didn’t know why, but from the very moment he started messaging me, I would do pretty much anything for him.
In that first session, I’d broken my no-fingers-inside-the-vagina rule with him, which was probably why I came so fast. But there was something else about him that got me really worked up, and I could feel it even then. When he told me he wanted to see me every night of the week, I immediately broke my no-more-nightly-visits rule for him too.
“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, my mouth open and two fingers still plunged deep inside me.