Chapter 4
FOUR
AUSTIN
One thing about men: they ruin everything. Some busybody called the cops over the dick-measuring contest between the Whittakers and Chase. No one likes it when the cops show up, so the bar cleared out and my tips ended up being short.
I counted the bills a third time, hoping some were stuck together, but no such luck. Shoving them into the coffee can with the rest of my money, I pried up the loose floorboard in the back of my closet with my nail and stashed it away. At this rate, I’d never get out of this fucking town.
It was two in the morning and it had already been a long fucking day, made longer by the extra cleaning up I had to do after the boys destroyed my bar.
Now I had to log in to my second job so I could make up for the tips I lost tonight.
The only silver lining to this shitty day was that Dad had already passed out on the couch by the time I got home.
I keep my hair piled on top of my head in a messy bun, too lazy to wash it, but too prideful to appear on camera with dirty hair. A quick switch of my bellybutton ring and change of my clothes and I’ve transformed into RedRanger.
Ten minutes later, I have the camera set up, I’ve sent the system notification to my regulars about the impromptu show, and I’m already stripping out of my shorts with an Oscar-worthy show of seduction.
The computer chimes with my favorite sound.
“Thank you, Danny baby,” I purr when the regular tips me fifty bucks, hiding the natural twang in my voice.
RedRanger is a role I play. She isn’t from Montana and she doesn’t have a drawl.
She doesn’t dress like a small-town bartender, and isn’t bisexual. Most importantly, she’s in control.
“Danny’s showing you guys up tonight. I guess I should just go into a private room with him instead of wasting my time on the rest of you, huh?”
Several more tips come through and I laugh. Men are so simple.
DamnDan: Goddammit guys.
“Sorry, Danny,” I say, turning my back to the camera and bending over to push my shorts down, the chimes all piling on top of one another as my ass takes up the computer screen.
I reach behind me and slip my finger under the string of my thong, teasing like I’m gonna pull it to the side and show them my pussy. Instead, I stand up straight again.
Turning toward the camera again, I flick my eyes over to the monitor I use to make sure my face isn’t showing.
When I’m sure it isn’t, I read the chats that came through while my back was to them, fiddling with my belly button ring and slipping the very tips of my red acrylics under the waistband of my panties to keep them engaged.
“Thank you, Dicky,” I tease with a grin, waiting for the response I know is coming. When it does, I force my grin wider. They may not be able to see my face, but they can hear the smile in my voice.
“Aw, come on, Dicky, don’t be like that. You know you like it when I’m mean to you. You don’t tip me as much when I call you Richard.”
BigDickRich doesn’t respond to that, but he also doesn’t log off, so I can’t help but chuckle. A few no-name guests file in, which usually means I’m being featured on the Now Live section of the site’s home page.
Thank god. Maybe I can get this over with sooner than I thought.
“Alright, boys. I’m gonna get this top off while I give you sixty seconds to get your tips in. You know the drill: highest tipper gets to pick tonight’s toy,” I tell them, crossing my arms over my front to pull my shirt over my head. The tips start rolling in.
So simple.
My tits fall from my shirt with a little bounce and the chimes come through so quickly they’re overlapping one another again. I play with the barbells that run through my nipples, pushing out a moan they’re all too horny to realize is fake.
“Oh, someone’s check just hit the bank, huh, Ronnie? Does your wife know you’re blowing all your money on a cam girl?” I ask with a chiding tone as his $100 tip comes through, tossing my shirt to the side.
I probably should care, but this money is a means of survival for me right now, so being a girls’ girl isn’t my priority. If I checked the marital status of every one of my subscribers before accepting their money, it would take years to save up enough to leave Cedar Creek.
A $250 tip hits and my brows rise. It’s laughably higher than anyone else’s and the chat fills with angry messages from my regulars.
$250 as a tip is unheard of.
$250 as a tip from a guest—not even a subscriber or regular watcher—is ridiculous.
But I recover quickly so he doesn’t realize I’m not worth that amount of money, reading his temporary username and the pronouns beside it.
“Well then, Guest One-Ten-Seven-Ninety-Three, looks like it’s your pick.
You’d usually get a private show for a tip that size, but since you don’t have an account, the system won’t let me. ”
I bend down off-camera to grab my container of sex toys and line them up on the edge of the desk, going through my usual spiel about sizes and which one does what.
Guest_110793: The rabbit.
He sends his choice before I’m even finished and it surprises me. I’ve never had a subscriber choose the rabbit vibe. They almost always go for the one that suctions to the mirror, the tentacle one, or the ten-incher.
A few of the regulars even log off after reading his choice, but I’ve already hit my goal thanks to the stranger’s tip, so I don’t really give a fuck.
“So what should I call you, Guest?” I ask, putting the rest of the toys back in the container. I show my ass off to the screen as I do, making it jiggle in a way that comes across unintentional.
Guest_110793: Guest is fine.
I snort out a laugh—a very unsexy sound that none of my subscribers have ever heard before because none of my laughs on camera have ever been real. “Alright then, Guestie, any special requests before I get started?”
His response takes a few seconds to come through.
Guest_11071993: Get it wet with that bratty little mouth of yours first. It needs something filling it.
It’s dramatic to say everything goes still, but my brain does short-circuit for a second, so there’s really no other way to describe it. A dom?
I snap back into character as quickly as I can. “If that’s a ploy to see my face, I have bad news for you, Guestie. Not even $250 tippers get that honor,” I tell him, climbing onto the bed and spreading my legs so he can see the wet spot he caused in my panties.
I use the wireless mouse on the nightstand to change my view on the monitor, making the chat large enough I can read it from my bed.
Guest_11071993: Funny how I’m still hearing an attitude when I told you to suck on the vibrator.
“Technically, you said to get it wet with my mouth. You didn’t say suck on it,” I tease with a grin. This is the most fun I’ve ever had while camming.
Guest_11071993: I’m about to call my bank and report a suspicious $250 charge, brat. Get to it.
“Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” I say, holding the tip of the vibrator to my mouth and rolling my tongue around the tip. The viewers can only see up to my collarbone right now, so the show with my tongue is just for me. “Maybe I should call you Grumpy instead of Guestie.”
Guest_11071993: Doesn’t sound like it’s in far enough.
“Oh, I get it. You weren’t hoping to see my face. You wanted to hear me gagging on it.”
Guest_11071993: I wanted to see you fuck yourself with it, but if you don’t quit your lollygagging, it’ll be time for me to go to work before that happens. Get it wet so I can watch how easily it slides into your pussy, baby.
I obey. I don’t know why. I never obey these men, even big tippers. Men have tried before and they quickly got bored and moved on to the next cam girl that does what they’re told the first time they’re told to do it. I don’t. Not in real life and not while camming.
Daddysgirl05: Holy fuck.
DamnDan: You seeing this, Rich?
BigDickRich: Not seeing shit because she doesn’t show her face.
BigDickRich: But yeah.
Ronnie42069: What the fuck? Just like every other bitch in the world—loyalty doesn’t matter, just money.
I pull the vibrator from my mouth long enough to request, “Mod.”
Ronnie gets kicked out and blocked from viewing my future shows by a chat moderator. I’ll lose his sixty-dollar subscription fee, but that’s all I’ll mourn the loss of.
Maybe he’s right, though. Maybe I am just a bitch that only cares about money, but that’s all I can afford to think about right now. As though Guestie can somehow sense my mind wandering to mental breakdown territory, he finally sends another chat.
Guest_11071993: Good girl, Red.
Guest_11071993: That’s good enough. Take those flimsy panties off now.
A shiver runs through me at his praise, but I don’t obey this time, continuing to suck on the silicone vibrator.
I refuse to admit that Ronnie had some sort of impact on my headspace, so I tell myself my hesitation is because I remembered who I am.
I don’t let men tell me what to do. At least, not unless they earn it, and this one hasn’t had time to earn it yet.
BigDickRich: There’s the brat we know and love.
Guestie doesn’t respond immediately and my stomach sinks with every passing second I watch the chat, waiting for him to reprimand me. It doesn’t pass my notice that Dicky’s praise doesn’t feel anywhere near as rewarding as Mr. $250’s did.
The vibrator slips from my lips before I realize I’ve made the conscious decision to stop sucking it. I’m not even sure he’s still watching. I don’t get notifications telling me when guests leave the stream, just subscribers.
My fingers slip under the strings on my hips, lifting my ass off the bed just enough to pull my thong down my thighs and toss it across the room like he said.
I usually make more of a show out of getting naked, but I can’t seem to manage that patience right now, splaying my thighs wide again to show off my pussy immediately.
I wait.