Filthy Cam Girl: A Captive Virgin Romance

by JB Duvane

  "Where would you like me to sit, Dr. Devereaux?” I batted my eyelashes, looking around the room bashfully. If he only knew of all the dirty things that were going through my mind, he may not think me to be so innocent.

  He smiled slightly as he sat in his high-backed leather chair, only the top half of his body visible.

  "Wherever you're comfortable, the chair or the couch.” He gestured to the leather chair with arms in front of his desk and a brown leather couch against the wall to my left. “And please, Emily, call me Max."

  "Okay, Max," I said with a smile, then looked around the room at my options. What I really wanted to do was walk right up to him and sit on his lap, but I couldn't bring myself to be that bold yet. Maybe I'd try that on the next visit.

  I walked over to the couch and set my purse down, keeping my back to him so that I could get a chance to show him my tight, barely covered ass as I walked. I turned to walk the short distance back over to the chair and noticed his eyes following me. As I sat down in the chair I bent forward and squeezed my arms into my breasts so the cleavage was more pronounced. Then I settled against the smooth leather, feeling the cool surface on my bare pussy. As I pushed myself back I let the skirt of my dress hike up to the tops of my thighs, then crossed my legs in what appeared on the surface to be a demure gesture, but in reality was my way of letting him see up my skirt just ever so slightly—enough to make him wonder throughout our session if he really had just gotten a glimpse of my shaved, nubile pussy. I would smile throughout our session because I knew the answer to that question was yes.

  "How are you doing, Emily? I was very glad to see that you'd made an appointment to come in."

  I answered slowly, looking at the floor as I spoke. "I'm doing ok." I answered, trailing off. I didn't say anything else, instead waiting for him to press me for more information. I wanted to know specifically what he wanted to know about me. I wanted him to pry, and then I wanted to spill my most intimate desires to him. I wanted him to know it all.

  "But?" Max pressed. I glanced up to meet his eyes for a moment, noticing them boring into mine, and I quickly looked away.

  "But … I have to admit you were right. It is a little too quiet in that big house sometimes. I don't really have anyone here in town, well, except you, of course," I looked up and offered him a sweet smile before continuing. “And it would be nice to have some company every now and again."

  Your company, I thought to myself. I didn't want anyone else's.

  "Have you thought of getting a job? Taking some classes maybe?" Max queried.

  I laughed. "I was left a large inheritance, the thought of menial labor as entertainment doesn't interest me."

  Max pursed his lips in a little smile, as if he were amused by my response. "I see."

  "I may look into some college courses after a while, you know, after my mind settles down a little bit."

  "I think that would be great for you to do Emily. You know your mother was quite the scholar herself."

  I laughed airily. "Yes, I suppose she did very well in her day. But that was some time ago. I wouldn't say she died a scholarly woman." I hadn't meant to sound so bitter, it just slipped out. This isn't the direction I had especially wanted our conversation to go. I didn't need him getting suspicious of why I may be trash-talking my dead mother.

  Max got a more serious look on his face, but remained neutral. “I’m afraid I wouldn't know." His tone invited me to go on if I had wanted, but after a long silence he continued. “Perhaps you could take a class with a friend.”

  “I told you I don’t have many friends here.” I wanted to make sure he understood that he could come over anytime, especially any of the cold, lonely nights. "And it’s mostly the nights that seem to go on forever.”

  I lowered my eyes and shifted in my seat, letting my skirt ride up a teensy bit further and parting my legs ever so slightly while stealing a peek at him through my lashes.

  His gaze was directed to the gap in my thighs, and I was positive that he had caught an illicit glimpse of my exposed slit this time. I could feel the heat from his eyes on me, and my heart beat a little quicker. I settled into my chair again and looked up at him.

  Max averted his gaze and looked me in the face. "So, this means no boyfriends, I take it?"

  A wide grin spread across my face and I asked playfully, "Are you asking if I'm single, doctor?"

  Max smirked a little but he didn’t say a word. Instead he stared into my eyes, his dark pools making me feel smaller and weaker the longer they held mine. Almost like a rabbit caught by a wolf.

  "No, I don't have a boyfriend." I sighed, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear and glancing away. I decided to try a new angle. "Actually, there is something that I wanted to discuss. I've never been prone to anxiety or insomnia, but lately all I can do at night is lay awake and stare at the ceiling. My heart races at every tiny little noise."

  Max looked at me sympathetically. "That's normal for a woman in your situation. The feelings of anxiety will pass, especially if you continue to see me.”

  My heart sped up when he called me a woman, and I felt my face heat up. I hoped I wasn't blushing too obviously. The fact that he was acknowledging my femininity, and not treating me like a little girl was a good sign. He was definitely acknowledging my feminine physique, letting his eyes drift to my chest whenever he thought that he could get away with it without me noticing.

  "You live alone, don't you?" I asked quizzically.

  "I do." He replied.

  "Well, what do you do to pass the nights?" I asked innocently. "Surely even a man like you longs for company sometimes?"

  "I keep myself quite busy." He replied evenly.

  "Too busy for a girlfriend?"

  "We aren't here to discuss my love life, Em—“

  "But you did say that you wanted to offer a friendly ear to me, so I am asking you a friendly question. How are we going to be friends if we don't share things with each other?" I countered.

  Max pursed his lips and gave a half smile. "You're right about that. We are friends, Emily. But that still doesn't make my love life any of your business."

  "Fine," I said pleasantly. "Just wondered, that's all. But you’re right, it’s not my business." I leaned forward to grab the water bottle that I had set down on the side table. I carefully unscrewed the cap and took a sip, letting a little bit dribble down the front of my top and down my chest, the water soaking my breast and causing the fabric to cling to my hardened nipple.

  "Oh!" I gasped as the cold water drizzled down my chest. I giggled. "I'm so graceful, aren't I?"

  “It happens to the best of us," Max smiled as he handed me a handkerchief from his drawer.

  I made a show of dabbing at my breasts, looking down carefully so that he would have a chance to stare without thinking that I could see him. When I looked up, he was definitely staring, and it was obvious to him that he had been caught. I smiled sweetly, letting him know that I didn't mind one bit.

  Yes, Please (Max)

  I watched Emily as she squirmed around in the chair in front of my desk, pressing her breasts together so that they all but popped out of the top of her dress. And not to mention her nipples jutting out through that thin fabric. I knew what she was trying to do to me, but I wan’t going to play the game her way. She didn’t know who she was dealing with and if she thought she was going to play me she had another thing coming.

  She was incredibly cute—and insanely sexy—as she went through the motions of her little game, though. With her skirt pulled up and her constant lip biting. Don’t get me wrong, I was on the verge of busting through my pants behind that desk, but I wasn’t going to let her know. I’d just play along for a while and see where she was going to go with all of this, all the while imagining her legs splayed out on the arms of that chair she was sitting in.

  I wanted to ask her about her father. That was a relationship I was intrigued by, not because I wanted to know about him specifically, but because I wanted to k
now if he’d ever touched her. I’d had a lot of experience with girls whose fathers or older male relatives had sexually abused them. I knew generally what that type of relationship resulted in for the girls later in life. I wanted to know about the relationship from her perspective, especially since she fit the mold of an abused child.

  Most of the girls I had been involved with had serious daddy issues that stemmed from anything from inappropriate behavior from an older male family member to full-on molestation or rape. I wanted to help these girls. I’d always seen myself as a guide to them—helping them with their feelings and molding them into women that experienced their sexual natures as fully as they could. But it didn’t always work out the way I wanted it to. Not in the end, anyway.

  I could see glimpses of those types of needs every time she looked up and her eyes lingered on mine. She wanted me to teach her and tell her what to do. She wanted the approval that she had never gotten from her father, or her mother for that matter.

  I knew that Amelia was jealous of her own daughter. And I knew that’s why she sent Emily away to a private school. I knew that woman was incredibly insecure and that she was terrified that her daughter would come between us. But there was so much more going on in our relationship that I couldn’t say no to her. She was the only woman I’d ever loved, but she was also the only woman I’d been with who called the shots—some of them, anyway. But I could see that it would be so different with Emily.

  “Roll over onto your belly,” I commanded. She rolled over, pushing her plump ass up in the air for me. I spit into my hand and rubbed it over my cock, then plunged into her hot, waiting pussy. She mewed and squirmed as I fucked her, her face buried in the pillows. I paused a moment, hearing rustling outside the door. My eyes rose and there she was—standing in the doorway—her slight frame barely illuminated from the dim light coming from the hall. Her soft white nightgown clung to her wispy body, and her hair hung partially over her eyes. She was so beautiful and I wanted her desperately.

  I shook my head, trying to clear it and focus. I adjusted my tie and ran my hand through my hair, bringing myself back to reality. My senses were overwhelmed, and now was not the time to turn into a blithering idiot. I needed to remain in charge of this situation. Emily had just waltzed through my door—practically fucking naked—and I had to keep my wits about me.

  She was wandering around my office, looking for a place to put her bag, glancing at the furniture and pretending she was trying to figure out where to sit—and she was driving me insane. She was babbling about the weather being a little chillier than she had anticipated, but she didn't need to say any of that. The way her pert little nipples were standing on end made it obvious. I had tuned out her words—every ounce of my energy focused on her body—and the sight of her movements and the way her dress just barely covered her sent my mind spinning out of control. My thoughts were running rampant with every sexual position imaginable.

  When she finally settled into her seat in front of me, I had a clear view of what was underneath that flimsy skirt of hers, and it wasn't covered up. It was smooth, and I could clearly see her slit cutting through her pale skin. The sight made my mouth water.

  Thank god I was sitting at my desk. My cock was hard as a rock and wasn't backing down anytime soon. I was going to be bound to my chair for some time if she didn't quit flashing me her pussy and pushing her luscious tits together like that.

  There was no doubt she was toying with me, I'm not naive. What she was doing now was fine, but we were going to continue this on my timeline. If she wanted to be fucked, she was going to be fucked. Hard. But not until I had a little bit more of a handle on her—mentally and physically.

  "So, Emily, let's talk. I know you're going through much more than a girl your age typically has to go through. What can I help you with?"

  She gazed at the ceiling, contemplating what she wanted to say to me, then heaved a huge sigh and leaned back in her chair. The way she flung her body back reminded me of a child on the verge of having a tantrum. The contrast between her child-like mannerisms and her very womanly body was making my dick positively ache.

  Finally she spoke, "The house is just so big and lonely. I thought I could handle it, but I don't know what to do. My mother was such a control freak; she had everything organized down to the letter. But I’m just not that good with keeping things running smoothly. I don't know how she did it, especially with her ... habits." She looked bitter as she said this word. I was well aware of her mother's vices.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but she went on, “And all of those empty rooms are starting to take their toll. Too many memories associated with those abandoned rooms."

  "What kind of memories?" I asked, my cock growing harder with each word.

  She looked at me darkly, but said nothing. She looked even more fuckable with that nasty look on her face.

  I took a different approach when she remained silent. "We don't have to address everything right now, Emily. But I do hope that one day you will trust me with what’s bothering you—with your … memories."

  She nodded, her blonde hair falling in front of her face a little. I wanted to reach across the desk and brush it out of her eyes, but if I did that I wouldn't be able to resist putting my tongue into her mouth.

  "Have you thought anymore about selling it and moving somewhere a little more manageable?"

  Her face returned to normal and she started to come back out of her shell. We could talk about more mundane things this session—that was fine. But I was going to find out what was floating around that mind of hers, and before long, she wouldn't be holding anything back from me at all.

  "Well, yes. I've thought about it quite a bit since you mentioned it at the funeral. I just don't even know where to start with selling a house like that. Not to mention all of the antiques my mother collected. None of it is really my style."

  "If you'd like any help with that I'd be more than happy to look into it for you."

  "Really? That would be so kind of you. I don't have anyone to help really. I mean there are some aunts and uncles and cousins, but I don't have much of a relationship with any of them, and they all live so far away. Besides, to tell you the truth, I don't exactly trust my extended family. I'm not sure what my mother may have told you, but there have been a lot of ... rough spots in our family relations. I don’t want to speak ill of her, but I know my mother told the rest of the family many things about my behavior, many things which were not true. She had very skewed views of me—like I was some sort of competition.”

  I raised my eyebrows at this, although not in an incredulous way, but instead with a knowing acceptance. I knew there was tension between Amelia and her daughter. Her mother was a beautiful woman and wasn't used to being upstaged by anyone, but I had no idea she had told anyone but me about her feelings. From what she said to me they were fears that she tried not to dwell on. Fears that embarrassed her and that she didn’t want to be judged by.

  "Well, I don't doubt what you’re telling me. I am aware you and your mother had a very complex relationship." I waited for her to go on.

  A thoughtful look came over her, then she spoke, looking me directly in the eye. "I think I would like you to help me sell the house, though. I have no desire to manage a huge piece of property like that. The thought of it is just too overwhelming. I would much rather liquidate and move on. Would you really be willing to help me with all of that?”

  "I certainly would. I told you, Emily, I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

  "How can we get started then? Do you know any realtors you can refer me to?”

  "I do. But I’ll tell you what. If you're really serious—and you feel like you can trust me—you can just sign the deed over to me and I will take care of the rest. You don't have to lift a finger. As soon as the house sells, I will notify you, and in the meantime I’ll help you look for a place that is more suited to your lifestyle. How does that sound?" I truly was happy to help, mostly because this arrange
ment would bind me to her more solidly than we already were.

  She smiled warmly. "I would like that very much. Thank you, Max." Then she blushed, and said with an air of playfulness, "I still think I might feel more comfortable in that big old house if I had some company, though. It gets so cold there at night, and while we’re finding me a new place I think it would be good for me to have someone there to curl up with. Someone to keep me warm." She looked straight at me, gauging my reaction. She was a bold little thing.

  I chuckled at this, although in my mind I pictured her lying underneath me, sweating and screaming out my name. "How about a dog instead?" I offered with a little smirk, then fidgeted under my desk, adjusting my posture.

  "No, I'm allergic. I really do think a man would be better."

  She smiled coyly. She was being a lot more direct than I had anticipated. I should have known—having been raised by a woman like Amelia—that she wouldn't be easy to predict. But that’s what made this conquest all the more thrilling. She bit her bottom lip again and looked up at me, waiting for my response. At least she was steering this conversation in a good direction for me to find out some things I needed to know.

  “So no boyfriend then?" I asked her, with what I hoped was an expressionless tone.

  "Is that really any of your business?" she asked, feigning offense.

  Contrary to the illusion that she was trying very hard to create, I didn't suspect that she had ever had a boyfriend or very much experience with a man at all. But I imagined she didn't want me to know that. She wanted me to think of her as a worldly woman, one that would rival her mother in every way. But what she didn’t understand was it was her innocence—her lissome, nubile body that screamed virgin at every twist and turn—that made my cock stand at attention and practically bust through my pants.