Chapter 45 Roni
Roni
Later on, after my regulars have all been spoiled while simultaneously dousing me in tips, I scroll through some of the messages which have come over.
I don’t have anything waiting from Simon.
And he wasn’t on the stream. Not that I have any right to expect he’ll show up whenever I’m on.
But still, it feels weird he wasn’t here.
The messages from my regulars are nothing crazy.
Standard dick ratings and random tips with comments on various photos I have on my profile.
Each letting me know they’re still here.
Some say they’ve missed me. They can’t wait to see me again.
They long for late-night chats. They haven’t talked to me much lately.
Often, they get crass with how they’ve missed my tits.
My cunt. My puckering asshole. Frankly, it’s exactly where I want them.
It's generous, even for him. But a paycheck like this never comes with no strings attached. I have to wonder what he's really after and whether I'm comfortable with it.
I promptly open a chat window with Simon and send him a bunch of kissing-heart emojis with an additional message.
@Unhinged: Thank you sweetie.
I hit send and he’s on it like summer flies on horseshit.
He rambles on about how he has more than enough money and he’s happy to share.
Then another message admits he rather selfishly assumed throwing such a large amount at me would draw my attention away from any competition he may have with other followers.
That gets a chuckle out of me. I wasn’t talking to anybody else actively, but he’s right, if I had been, I would’ve blocked them all just to come to him.
I message him back, acknowledging him very quickly and rather drastically captured my eye. But I also tell him it’s okay, because he’s who I wanted to see here anyway.
@SIMPleSimon: Oh, really? Why is that?
I respond by asking if it’s okay if I turn on my camera and connect that way, since it’ll be easier for me to talk to him rather than text every thought.
His reply is a flirty ‘yes’, and I can’t help by grin.
I don’t bother saying anything before hitting the camera button, which sends him a request to let me stream directly to him.
I know he accepts when my window opens to a full video view of myself, still with his text chat attached.
“Hi. Thanks. This will be much easier for me,” I acknowledge while settling in my pink and white gamer chair in front of my desk. “I hope you don’t mind if I take a second to collect myself. I just completed a couple rigorous hours for my live.”
@SIMPleSimon: I don’t mind at all. Besides, you’re beautiful from every angle.
I can feel my cheeks flush a little. I look directly into the camera, hoping he’s doing the same, or at least looking directly at his screen.
“I’ve been thinking about our last conversation, and I’m sorry I ended it so abruptly. I’ll admit—you struck a nerve. It wasn’t your fault so much as something I hadn’t thought about in a long time.”
I stop there, knowing I’ve dumped a bit, waiting to see if he’ll respond. The arrows spin on the screen, so I know he’s typing. But it doesn’t always mean he’ll actually send something. A BING comes through the speakers and I see his words.
@SIMPleSimon: Well, I might have been a dick when I spoke about your relationship with your husband.
@SIMPleSimon: You’re not obligated to tell me anything you don’t want to. I know that’s not how this works.
“That’s very understanding of you,” I reassure him.
I know Phoenix doesn’t want me disclosing details about my life.
But he also needs to remember I’m in charge of me.
“I can’t promise I’ll tell you everything you want to know.
And I’ll only talk about me as long as you share something about you in return.
” I lean back just enough to get my breasts into view, pushing them together.
“Literal tit for tat, if you will.” I smile.
I can tell he’s hesitant. I can’t even tell if he’s going to respond.
@SIMPleSimon: I’ll play along.
@SIMPleSimon: For now.
“That’s good enough for me,” I joke.
My life hasn’t always been sunshine and rainbows.
I’m not sure many camgirls would ever claim it has.
I mean, here I am, a sex worker, by choice.
But it wasn’t always that way. I didn’t come by it naturally.
It’s not what I would have chosen. But I don’t want to tell him all that.
I don’t want to tell him I was kidnapped and trafficked.
And it was awful. The things they did to me were horrific.
A man in a porcelain mask hung me from a tree and fucked my identity away.
Fuck.
Breathe, Roni.
“…I am not the horrors I’ve endured.”
“I had a really traumatic experience a couple years ago. I prefer not to get into it.”
Bing!
@SIMPleSimon: You can spare me the details. But what kind of trauma?
@SIMPleSimon: Physical? Mental? Emotional?
He’s pushing without being overt about it, and I’m not sure I like it. It reeks of insincere respect. Then again, maybe it’s my jaded hatred of men talking.
“Yes?” Is all I give him.
@SIMPleSimon: Well, now I feel like an asshole again.
You kind of were one, but at least you realize it.
“That's okay. You didn't know. Besides, I'm safe now. Nobody can get to me here.”
@SIMPleSimon: If you want to talk about what they did to you…
I relinquish a big sigh.
“I don’t. Besides, it doesn’t matter now. That girl’s gone. Dead. I’m the shell that remains.”
@SIMPleSimon:
“Then he found me. Saved me. Literally. My husband. I’m sorry, I sound like a pathetic child.”
@SIMPleSimon: You don’t.
@SIMPleSimon: But what do you mean he “found” you?
I flop my head to the camera with a dramatic eye roll and beg, “Can we please talk about something else? I do believe it’s your turn to share.”
@SIMPleSimon: Fair enough. Tell me about what you're wearing. Looks like a fishnet situation.
What the hell? That’s a crazy change of topic. And he’s not getting out of our little agreement.
“Hold on right there, Simon. You can definitely go down that path. I'm happy to get up and show you all what's here. But you owe me something about you.”
@SIMPleSimon: Oh, I think we've talked about enough heavy stuff.
This jackass thinks he’s getting out of it.
“Simon, we made a deal.”
@SIMPleSimon: I’ll tell you what…
The hesitation in his messaging is deliberately maddening. I’m tempted to close the chat and leave him hanging, just to see how he likes being fucked with.
@SIMPleSimon: When I'm on here with you next, it'll be my turn to share a story. But for now, if you're willing and if you've recuperated, I'd really love to watch you fuck yourself.
My eyes widen and my nipples harden reading his impromptu request. It’s not what I planned on, but I’m also very intrigued.
“Oh, really?” I ask playfully. “So, there is a hungry man in there. I’ve been wondering. Well, how would you like me to do that?”
I’m practically gushing through the anticipation.
@SIMPleSimon: It doesn't have to be right this second.
But I'd really love to see you pinch yourself.
Clamps, if you have them. Your nipples and clit.
I want to see you slowly finger yourself.
I want to see you ride a big cock with all the clamps on, stimulating you while making constant eye contact with the camera.
I will pay whatever your price is for such a pleasure.
The message comes through, and I read it over four times. Not only is my interest piqued, but my pussy is throbbing.
“Do you want to do this camera to camera, Simon?” I ask. “You can watch me live. And as I stare into the camera, I can see your face as it watches me come. I can see your reaction. I can see if you drool over me the way I hope you do.”
@SIMPleSimon: No. Absolutely not.
His message is curt, and I worry I’ve somehow offended him. But he explains himself quickly.
@SIMPleSimon: I have an issue about my identity and people seeing me. It has nothing to do with you and all to do with me.
“Okay, Simon. That's okay. I won't say that I'm not a little disappointed, but I get it. Give me a little bit and I'll send you a file in just a little while, and I promise you’ll be satisfied.”