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The Camgirl's Revenge

By Polera North

Copyright 2013 Polera North

Smashwords Edition

Eleven o’clock on a Friday night and Elizabeth Blair was reclining half naked on her bed, tapping away at her laptop, encouraging men from around the world to send her tips to entice her to go from half-naked to fully naked. It wasn't the best way to spend a Friday night, but it paid her bills well enough. Friday was the peak for lonely and/or bored men willing to pay to see a girl touch herself over a grainy webcam feed. She could pay the rent for her apartment just from the proceeds of a strong Friday show. It may have not been the most dignified way to make a living, but it was easier and safer than being a stripper, and it was hands down better than having a real job. She set her own hours, worked from home, and only had to deal with creepy, lonely men through a chat interface.

The really desperate ones were willing to pay a hefty per-minute rate to get a private show with her. Usually what they wanted was fairly simple. A few minutes of moaning their names while she rode her vibrator and talked about how big their dicks were. An easy 40 bucks. Occasionally someone would want her to roleplay out some sort of fantasy of theirs, usually something borderline pedophilic or incestuous. These were the only times she ever felt dirty doing her job. She had the power to end the private session and ban the user, but the profit-to-effort ratio was high enough to put up with their unhealthy perversions. The weirdest thing a guy ever asked for was to have her read his Babylon 5 fanfiction out loud to him.

Elizabeth heard the familiar chime of a new user entering the room. Schweinreiter37. She greeted him with a cheery “Hi, Schweinreiter.” The name was a little difficult to say, but she got it out well enough. At least this name was pronounceable. She’d clumsily blurted out her share of xXAs$a$si|\|Xx’s and J0k@Sm0K@’s in her days as a camgirl. His response was the annoyingly too common “hey bb.” If there was an internet abbreviation Elizabeth hated the most, it was ‘bb’. It was the compressed form of ‘baby’. Between the anonymous nature of the medium and the business nature of her relationship with them, she found the idea of the men in her room calling ‘baby’ uncomfortably personal. She wasn't their ‘baby’, she exchanged money for live entertainment.

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