Without Remorse

She blew out a breath and tried to clear her head as she clicked through the site to see how many tokens she’d earned from the session. At five dollars per hundred tokens… she quickly did the math and smiled. She’d just earned three hundred and forty dollars in a little over half an hour. It was a start anyway.

She read through the comments.

Hot show. I’m so hard right now.

Yr so gorgus

I wanna fuck your throat.

Gimme that cunt. Daddy pound you so good.

There were multiple requests for private shows. It was midnight, but Fridays were her major earning days, and God knew she needed it.

After she slipped on a shirt and underwear, she clicked through them. Her profile page showed her menu. Things like, Flash Ass or Flash Pussy or Suck Toes for 100 tokens each to Cum Show at 2,100 tokens to Double Penetration for 4,000. It added up quickly when she was busy.

Still, she was surprised when she saw one message from a user named Saint—it was a private show request and they were offering—holy shit.

Sloane felt her eyes widen. 20,000 tokens.

That was a thousand bucks.

Hell yeah. Finally, something going her way. That would cover all her utilities and half her mortgage payment.

If it was a serious offer, anyway. She messaged back: Pay up front and I’m ready to go private whenever you are, sexy.

Only seconds later, she heard the little sound of coins tinkling and the cha-ching noise sounded. She checked the amount.

Holy shit, he paid the whole 20,000.

She immediately clicked to start a private chat with him, grabbing the laptop and making her way over to the bed. She put the laptop on the stool at the foot of the bed, then lay down on her stomach with her elbows propped up. Some guys liked it plain, with just the single laptop camera so it felt organic. Whenever she had a new private session, she felt them out to see what they were looking for.

“Hey sexy.” She grinned into the camera and twisted some still-wet hair around her finger. “I’m Chrissy. Do you want to two-way chat?”

Most guys were eager for their cocks to get on camera as soon as possible. For 20,000 tokens, she’d pretend to lick the damn screen if it was what he wanted.

She heard the little ping noise of an incoming chat message.

No. I just want to see you.

“All right, baby,” she said, smiling easily. “Whatever you want.” She lowered her voice and looked up shyly through her lashes. “You’re in control for the next hour. I’m at your mercy.”

Tell me about yourself. How did you start camming? You’re so beautiful. Take off your clothes while you talk to me. And turn on the other cameras.

She barely stopped herself from arching an eyebrow. Usually the multiple cameras setup was something she revealed after she’d been on with a new client for ten minutes. Then again, if he’d seen the shower show, it was an easy guess she had multiple cameras in other rooms too.

“Sure baby. I like how direct you are. And like I said. Whatever you want.” She winked at him and then clicked to switch on the two other cameras in her bedroom—the ceiling cam above her bed and the one sitting on her dresser that had a side view of the bed.

She angled the laptop camera and then sat up on the bed. She toyed with the bottom of her simple cotton shirt.

“I go to college here in Florida. I love to spend time with friends and have fun.” She smiled flirtily and teased the bottom of her shirt up her belly. “I was having a hard time paying tuition. I tried other jobs,” she pouted, “but I’m no good at waitressing and I hate being in a stuffy office all day.”

She lifted her shirt a little higher, teasingly showing just the bottom edge of her pink bra. “So I thought, well, what do I love to do?”

Up the shirt went and she circled a nipple through her lace bra. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “And I realized that I could make money doing what I love best—having fun, meeting new people and,” she bit her lip and looked straight into the camera before finishing with a whisper, “having sex.”

She glanced down at the chat box.

Shirt off. Now.

“Your wish is my command,” she said, grinning saucily at the camera. She pulled her shirt off over her head.

Your parents approve of what you do for money?

She looked down. She was Chrissy, the coed, so it didn’t hurt at all to talk about her father. He was make-believe. “Daddy would kill me if he knew. He was always so strict growing up.”

She batted her eyes at the camera. It was an opening to see if this guy was into the Daddy angle. Feeling out a new client was something of an art. You couldn’t press too hard, but some guys were so shy they had a hard time expressing their desires. So she had to lead the horse to water, so to speak. “It didn’t stop me from being a bad girl.”