by JB Duvane
“No. I haven’t talked to her since the contest.”
I grab Kyle’s phone and read the texts. “Apparently he thinks we have her with us?”
“Why would he think that? We didn’t know her before the contest. And none of us really talked to her at all.”
The doorbell rings and I get up and pull my boxers on. “Are either of you expecting anyone?” I ask.
“No,” they both say. “What if it’s Zoe?” Kyle whispers with wild eyes.
“Why would she come here? She doesn’t even know where I live.”
“What if Peterson told her. What if this is all some kind of fucked up game and she’s out there on the porch right now?” he continues to whisper.
I roll my eyes and throw a pillow at him. “Come on, Kyle. This is reality, not a TV show.” I go to the door and open it slowly and am actually a little relieved when I don’t see Zoe standing there. Kyle can really get inside my head sometimes.
“I have a package for a Mr. Kyle Dexter.” A delivery person in a brown suit stands on my porch holding a large box.
“I’ll take it.” I grab the package and sign for it, then shut the door. “It’s for you, Kyle. It’s from that place where we ordered all those Bluetooth vibrators.”
“Oh, great! I was cruising around on their site the other day and I found these really awesome, portable g-spot vibes. I can’t wait to try them out on the next Daddy Games!”
“There’s going to be another one?” Aubrey asks. She sounds a lot more excited than I expected.
“Hell yes, there’s going to be another one!”
“Really, Kyle? We’re doing it all again? We don’t need the money anymore.”
“I don’t give a damn about the money. We owe it to the public, Graham. This is entertainment at it’s finest.”
I laugh as I watch him remove the vibrators from the box. “So we’re doing it again,” I say.
“Yeah, but this time it’s going to be bigger. Even more epic.”
“I’m gonna be involved too, aren’t I,” Aubrey asks.
“Of course,” Kyle says. “We couldn’t do it without you. We couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
I sit back and watch the two of them and just breathe. I don’t know where the hell it’s going to lead, but I know I want to be along for every single twist and turn on this crazy ride.
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 novel of 41k words and is intended for mature readers only.
Filthy Cam Girl
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 novel of 41k words and is intended for mature readers only.
CHAPTER 1
DADDYLAND (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 parting 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 over 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.
Daddyland was perfect because there was no way any of my classmates could possibly afford it—and no way most people could even find it. You couldn’t just do a search for it online. You had to know either a client or a girl on the site in order to know that it even existed.
I continued to circle my clit, my slick juices allowing my finger to slide faster and faster over my sensitive nub. I moved my eyes up to the green light on the camera that was clipped to the top of my laptop screen, but kept my face tilted down. I knew that made me appear to be looking up at the man on the other end of the video session and I knew this particular Daddy liked that a lot.
Daddyluv
If I give you an extra five-hundred will you finger yourself, baby?
I continued to circle my clit, then grabbed my left breast and twisted the nipple, letting out rhythmic high-pitched gasps while I continued to look into the camera.
I wasn’t going to stick my fingers inside my vagina for this guy. He knew where I stood on that, but he was just like all the others. They always wanted to push you to see how far they could get you to go—and to see what they could get out of you.
Daddyluv
Please, Ami. Do it for Daddy
That attitude did absolutely nothing for me. I didn’t want to hear a man practically beg. I wanted a man to make me feel like I had no choice but to do what I was told. And Daddyluv was not that man.
“But, Daddy,” I looked into the camera with a sad, pouty face. “You know I’ve never had anything inside there before. I can’t do that. It’s so naughty.”
I sat back down in my chair and read the chat box, then put my hands to my face and pretended to be embarrassed. “I can’t do that, Daddy,” I squealed, shaking my head with my hands over my eyes. “I want to be a good girl for you, but I can’t put my fingers in there.”
I looked up into the camera and gave my best cute, shy-girl smile and bit my lower lip. Then I slid my h
and down to my clit again and stared straight into the camera.
“I can put my finger my bottom for you,” I said with a shy smile. “Would you like that, Daddy?” My eyes skimmed the chat where he typed the obvious answer. Yes, he wanted me to finger my asshole.
I knew at this distance the client had a good view of my crotch and my face, so I spread my legs wide and gave him a good eyeful of my glistening pussy, then slid the middle finger of my left hand through my pussy juice and to my asshole. When I started to slip it in, I furrowed my eyebrows like I was worried and bit my lower lip. I knew that made me look even more like an innocent little girl who was close to coming, but just didn’t understand what was going on with her body.
Of course, he ate it up. He kept telling me to come for Daddy and I whimpered the words he wanted to hear.
“I’m coming, Daddy! I’m so close!”
But I wasn’t close to coming. I wasn’t anywhere near coming.
I made a bunch of high pitched moans and gyrated my ass while I continued to circle my clit and finger my asshole, then threw my head back and gasped for breath for a couple of seconds. When I looked back up into the camera, I kept my eyes half closed and said ‘Look what you made me do, Daddy’ with a big, sleepy smile. I knew that got them off, the idea that I came directly because of their presence, even though it was just words in a box on my screen.
But they bought all of it. Even the fake orgasms.
I felt like I’d fallen into a pattern, though. My orgasms had all become almost exactly the same and part of me was afraid that they all knew. But I tried to remember the wise words that my friend Sasha told me. “There’s a reason people keep paying for the same things again and again, Ash. They want something specific and they know you can give it to them. They get to participate in their own fantasy. End of story. Don’t argue with human nature—or the tip jar.”