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 being 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.

I had come for him that first time within seconds. He hadn’t even been in the room with me, but the words he typed into the chat box made me come like no boy ever had in my life.

That was another reason I’d gotten involved in all of this. I was tired of the boys I always wound up dating. I’d had a boyfriend in high school, and he was sweet, but in the end he was just a boy. Then came Justin, and I thought since he was in college, things would be different, but I was wrong again.

I met Justin within the first week of starting classes at Westshire, and we’d been together for over almost six months now. I really liked Justin, when he wasn’t around his dipshit friends. His lips were soft and his body was really nice—muscular but not overly so. The problem was, his kisses were too soft and his hands seemed inexperienced. At least inexperienced in the things I wanted to experience.

He didn’t touch me the way I wanted to be touched—the way I’d fantasized about being touched for years now. I wasn’t a virgin because I was religious or anything like that. I was a virgin because the boys I’d been with bored me to tears.

* * *

Justin was still in my room at a quarter to ten, the time when I started getting ready to see BigSir. All I could think about while I was laying in bed with him was that BigSir might already be in my chatroom. I was terrified that he was there waiting for me and here I was in bed letting this total boy fumble with my bra and slobber all over my neck.

“Justin … wait.”

“What? What’s the matter?” he said as he pulled away, a scowl on his face. “You’re not going to stop everything again, are you?”

“Don’t be like that, Justin. I just don’t think I can go any further tonight.”

“Jeeze, Ashley. We’ve been going out for months. We’re in college. When do you think you’re going to want to go further?”

I really liked Justin but the thought of fighting off his grabby hands for even one more minute was too much for me to take. And that impatient tone was pretty much all I heard from him anymore. Which wasn’t putting me anywhere near the realm of wet in between my legs. I kept hoping that I would fall in love with him, or at the very least get turned on by him, and act like a normal college-aged girl like everyone I saw around me. But as time passed I realized that I wasn’t like everyone around me.

I told Justin that I was tired and that he should go. He got up off the bed and put on his shoes and left in a huff without kissing me or anything.

He walked through the door and only said one word before almost slamming it. “Later.”

I knew he was mad but I didn’t care. I was actually relieved. Maybe it was cold of me to string him along when I knew I was never going to give him what he wanted, but he was my only connection to the outside world and part of me was a little scared to break things off with him out of fear of becoming a total hermit.

I mean, I was going to classes occasionally, but I didn’t really have any friends at the college. Sasha was gone and she was the only female friend I’d had. The thing about being an introvert was I didn’t even really want to meet new people. I just wanted to stay in my room all day and night, and camming made that really easy.

After Justin was gone, I put a pretty pink slip and pair of panties on, and I opened up my laptop so I could see when BigSir entered my chatroom. I didn’t put the camera on, though. I didn’t want him to see me sitting here waiting for him. I made a feeble attempt at my latest homework assignment while I sat at my desk and waited for him to show up, but I was so distracted that I ended up staring at the computer screen like an idiot.

When I heard the ping of the chat box, my heart leapt into my throat.

It was BigSir.

I turned on the camera and gave him a big smile. I didn’t have to exaggerate or put on an act or anything when he came on. In fact, I felt like I had to tone my excitement down a little or he’d think I was too spazzy or too immature for him. I wanted him to think of me as a woman, and to want me as much as I wanted him.

The thing was, he usually didn’t even ask me to start out with anything sexy. A lot of times he just wanted to talk. He wanted to know about my day and my life and he seemed genuinely interested. Even though he was just talking to me through a box on a screen, I could pick up on things like that. He was different than the other clients.

Even in our first session, he asked me about myself. About things I liked to do and eat. He asked about the things he could see around my room and where they came from. He was interested in me. In what I wanted and what made me come. But he had a way about him. When he wanted me to perform for him he didn’t ask, he didn’t talk to me like I was a little girl, he didn’t try to persuade me to do anything. He told me.

His first words to me lit my body up from head to toe because I’d heard them before.

I didn’t even need to ask him what he was talking about. I knew he wanted me to make myself come for him, but I was a bit shaken by the memory that his request had jogged in my mind, so I didn’t move right away. What he said was so familiar. Words I’d heard in my head for years every time I made myself come on my own, when there was no man watching me through my computer camera. And now he was saying those very words to me.

When my fingers slipped in between my puffy outer lips and spread them apart, I could hear his groan through the one way video session. At least, I heard it in my head. I let the deepness of that voice that I remembered reverberate throughout every cell of my body until I felt a rush of tingles under my fingers.

I pulled my knees up toward my shoulders and stuck my feet up in the air while my middle finger flew back and forth over my clit. That first time, with BigSir on the other end of the computer screen—just a user name and a box of words that scrolled in front of me—I came harder than I ever had in my life.

Usually, the thrill of camming for a new client went on for maybe a week or two. After that it became the same thing over and over and I lost interest. Even some of the kinkier stuff, like stuffing myself with a big buttplug or bouncing up and down on a dildo in my ass while I played with my clit, didn’t do it for me. I hadn’t actually come during a session with any of my other clients in weeks. But I was really good at making my daddies think I was coming for them.

That all changed when BigSir showed up, though.

Now I practically waited an hour for him to show up. I would either sit at my computer with Daddyland open while I worked on other stuff, or I would keep my chat box up and do homework on my bed.

Tonight I was literally just sitting at my desk staring at the box, waiting for a message from him to appear.

Oh, God. How did he know? Am I that obvious? I thought as my fingers flew across the keys.

“Not long. I just got done with my homework right before you messaged me,” I lied.

I opened my legs and threw them over the arms of the chair, then looked up into the camera.

I giggled and looked down, then put my left hand on the chair in front of my spread legs and leaned toward the computer screen as I looked up into the camera. I slid the index finger of my right hand in between my lips and moved it in and out slowly. I could taste the fruity flavor of the lip gloss I had applied multiple times as I sat waiting for Sir to message me.

I did what he asked. I leaned back in the chair, scooting my ass forward to the front edge with my legs still hanging over the arms. I reached down and spread my pussy lips apart with the fingers of my left hand, then took my finger out of my mouth and moved it down to the glistening space between them.

I continued to look into the camera as I pushed my finger inside my dark, wet hole. I slowly moved it in and out, my breath quickening as my finger passed through my gaping inner lips. Nothing I did for Sir was any kind of act. It didn’t feel anything like what I did for the other clients. For weeks now, I hadn’t thought of Sir as a client anymore. I thought of him as mine. My master … my teacher … my everything.

I continued to move my finger in and out of myself slowly. I wanted to make this night last forever. I didn’t want to come and have it all end. I didn’t want to see those final words ’See you tomorrow night’ that he would always sign off with. I wanted to be with him all night long.

I didn’t realized I’d closed my eyes, lost in my fantasy of spending the night curled up in Sir’s arms, until I heard the ping sound of the chat box message.

I knew what he was telling me to do. As always, he wanted me to come for him. They all did, but with Sir it was different. I truly felt that I had no choice but to do what he told me, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was paying me. I had to do it because, deep inside I could feel it. I couldn’t say no to him. It was unthinkable—and it was the sexiest thing I could imagine. Being made to come for Sir.

I brought my finger up over my clit and began to make small circles, slow at first but picking up speed as the intensity rose in my belly. I moved my left hand down and pushed two fingers inside my wet hole, curling them toward the front so that I could stimulate my g-spot.

As the sensations that my fingers were causing spread throughout my body, I opened my mouth even wider. My head was leaning back on the chair now and my eyes were closed. I had an image in my mind that always took over when I was this close to an orgasm. It was him … hovering over me and watching me while I obeyed his wishes—his cock just inches away from my mouth, ready to plunge down my throat.

As the intensity increased, I imagined his cock pressing into the space between my lips while my eyes stayed on his. He would watch my mouth as it stretched wide to accommodate his massive length and girth. In my fantasy it was always a struggle—fitting him into my mouth. But it’s all I wanted, to be filled by him.

My orgasm would start to envelop me when I imagined his hands on either side of my head, holding it still while he drove his cock to the back of my throat. And in my mind the climax would happen for both of us simultaneously—a stream of his hot come shooting down my throat while my body bucked and convulsed underneath him.

The thickness of his cock as it expanded in my mouth, as well as the force with which he drove it into me were the things that sent me over the edge and I felt my body heave forward when the waves of pleasure shot through me.

When I opened my eyes again and looked up at the chat box, I saw that Sir had sent another message. I’d been so wrapped up in my own pleasure that I hadn’t even heard the alert.

I immediately pulled my legs off the arms of the chair and sat up, rummaging around through the papers and Japanese toys that littered my desk for my phone. I hadn’t used it in a while and I wasn’t even sure where it was. When I finally found it under a pile of schoolwork I looked at the notification on the screen and gasped when I saw what Sir had texted me.

I couldn’t believe what I’d just read. I stared at the screen reading the words he’d texted me over and over. The Daddyland chats were monitored for any mention of meeting up in person, so that was why he had texted me on my phone. It was strictly against the rules to meet with clients. It was one of the main reason some of the babygirls in the past had been discontinued.

The fact that it was forbidden wasn’t the reason I couldn’t move, though. The thought of actually meeting Sir—of actually seeing him and feeling him touch me—was almost too much for my mind to wrap around.

But the hardest thing for me to admit to myself was … what if I was disappointed. What if it really wasn’t him.

I’d been living in my fantasy world for so long now about who Sir was, that I didn’t know if I wanted to know the truth.

The ping of the chat box on my computer sounded again.

“Yes! Yes, Sir. I’m so sorry,” I said into the camera, giggling like an idiot. “I’ll text you right now.” I looked at the phone in my hand and texted Sir back:

The moment I hit send and my head cleared a little, I snapped back to reality and was practically flying. I wouldn’t be disappointed. I knew it. Even if it wasn’t him, I knew that no matter what, meeting Sir would be amazing. I could feel it.

I held my phone to my chest while I waited to hear back from him and when I felt the vibration in my hands I looked at my phone.