fe·ral - adjective: in a wild state, especially after escape from captivity or domestication. slut - noun: a person who has many casual sexual partners.
The second Joe left for work that evening, I shot into action. I dug around in my sparse as fuck panty drawer looking for something even remotely suitable. Something that would make it look like I actually had tits. I put on a plain, black set, did my hair and makeup to the best of my very limited ability, gathered up all the courage-powered-by-desperation-for-change I could and logged on. Music blaring from my WINAMP playlist (lol), bedroom door firmly closed and locked.
I was ready. Now or never, bitches.
As I filled in my model name and password, clicked login and was immediately greeted with the stark white screen of the green site’s old, janky model interface. I knew at this point I was one of maybe 5 American, English speaking models on the site and maybe that could be an angle I could work to my advantage. After I fumbled around with my settings a bit, my camera flickered on with all it’s 10 mega pixel might, I quickly checked my audio and that was it.
I was about to change the entire trajectory of my life.
No one really mentions this in any of the “I MADE 2K IN A DAY ON __ AS A CAM GIRL!?” articles, but there’s a lot of waiting. After 10 – 15 minutes, I hear the pop sound of someone sending me a private message. My heart started to race. I was a 19 year old from the Midwest whose parents did their damnedest to brow beat with Christian morality and laws who up to this point only had sexual experience with maybe 4 – 6 people. Of course I was fuckin’ nervous! Like most people entering SW, I had no clue what I was doing or what I was getting myself into.
I clicked into the PM window and scanned the message.
“Do u do prvts?”
My first urge was to reply “Why the hell else would I be sitting here, friend?”, but even with my limited customer service experience I figured that wouldn’t exactly be the most business forward response I could come up.
“Hey there! I sure do.” I textually chirped back at him.
“Toys?” he shot back at me.
“Yeah, I have a few.” I replied, side-eyeing the meager, plastic monstrosities I was passing off as dildos so far. Two identical, hard-plastic (definitely not body safe) classic vibrators & a large blue dildo.
“DP?” he blurted.
“Jesus, they really do just type shit out with one hand. I’m not even naked yet??” I thought to myself.
I considered my options for sex toys and then how much I hated being broke.
“I sure do, babe!” I answered enthusiastically.
The chime for a private show request gave me a quiet startle, but I quickly moved my mouse over and hit “ACCEPT”.
The main chat cleared from whatever bullshit the nameless guest users of the site had spewed into existence while I was distracted answering this guy’s questions in private and there we were.
In my naive bid to be the World’s Okayest Cam Gremlin, I quickly shed what little clothing I had on and let my patron examine what little flesh teenage me I had.
“Bend over.”
Ope. Must be that time. I turned around, assumed the position and readied my lube. Of course it was the lube every baby slut starts out with, classic and horrible (or at least it was last I used it) K-Y Jelly. I wheeled my head back around as I realized it was going to be an absolute bitch to see if this guy said anything else and saw to my delight nothing new. I must be doing something right!
I paused before squirting out a glob of the transparent goo onto my fingers.
“Are these okay?” I asked and held up my two metallic looking, long bullet vibes.
I waited and saw the words “ok” unenthusiastically appear on my screen.
I quickly flipped back into position & lube up my asshole, not a single other thought in my head except keeping this dude entertained long enough to make some sort of money.
If that last sentence offended you or made you see me in a negative light, allow me to be the one to burst your bubble. Most SWers are in for the money. Just like most lawyers, politicians, fast food workers, etc. This world, most notably at the moment my country in particular, is structured in a way that.
Capitalism: WORK OR DIE.
I grabbed both of my vibrators, turned on one and started working it slowly into my ass. I quietly moaned & felt it slip past the opening and fully into my asshole. One hand on my ass, suddenly so aware that the current occupant had no base, as anything you put in your ass SHOULD (safety first), I leaned over and grabbed the second vibe. I turned it on, pushed it into my pussy and immediately realized my mistake.
An unfortunate thing happens when you fuck two neighboring holes with two equally hard objects with absolutely no give. It’s gonna pinch that bit in between and not be the most comfortable thing in the world.
“Good thing I’m a masochist.” I thought to myself as I pushed past my own discomfort and continued moaning as I took turns thrusting them into my orifices, sloppy with lube.
I have no idea how long I was in the show for. Maybe 10 minutes?
Mid-assfuck I hear the sound of a digital door close. Something similar to what AOL Instant Messenger used back in the day to signal your friends logging off.
Not knowing whether or not it spit me directly out into public yet, I whirled back around, vibrator still firmly lodged in my pussy and jumped out of view of the cam to gather my clothes. I peeked over the top of screen and examined what I could of the window.
“AWAY. Click broadcast to go back to public chat.”
Oh thank fuck.
I let the away screen sit for a minute and popped over to my earnings page to see what exactly all the effort I’d just put in paid off for.
$70.
The poor kid who lives in my brain lit up with glee. I had just made the equivalent of a day and a half of minimum wage in a matter of max 20 minutes.
“Okay, this is something I can bring to Joe that he can’t dispute. This shit actually works.”
With an excitement I have rarely felt since, I logged off, closed the cam window and wandered out into the living room of my amazingly small hovel of a house.
“Yeah, I could do this. Or I could learn how to do it at least. This feels like stumbling onto a pot of gold or a free winning lottery ticket.” I thought to myself as I sat on the edge of my bed staring at my earnings page.
Again, I was insanely ignorant into what jar of chaos I’d just smashed wide the fuck open, but I was soon gonna find out.
“I look back from where I’m from, look at the woman I’ve become. And the strangest things seem suddenly routine.” – Hedwig & The Angry Inch/Stephen Trask
I’ve always said it wasn’t hugely surprising to anyone that J & I ended up taking this step in our relationship. Anyone who has actually taken the long stretch of time, trial & error to get to know me saw it coming even if I didn’t.
“Wow” you’re probably saying to yourself “you must have been a giant whore!” and you’d be sorta right with that guess.
Several lifetimes ago in 2008, while living in rural Hell, I decided it was high time I got myself a job. I was 19, had been living with J for 4 years & hadn’t done much except fail to stay in high school & have a baby on my hip. I felt useless as hell not being able to help financially contribute. I gathered all my awkward “last year as a teenager, but actually somehow an adult” courage & walked my way to the local grocery store to apply.
I filled out the app, turned it in & got an interview on the spot. The manager invited me into his office & before he even introduced himself told me I’d “have to dye my hair a normal color”. Uhhh, I was under the impression red WAS a normal color, even if this particular shade of firetruck red didn’t occur in humans naturally. Alright.
He checked out my application as I tried to explain my situation. “You’d have to cover that tattoo so long sleeves would be necessary anytime you’re at work & let that nose piercing heal.” At the time I had very few body modifications, a single nostril piercing & a tattoo of a fully dressed clown hench-wench that takes up maybe 4 inches on my upper arm.
My heart dropped. I knew this was coming, but I figured I’d done alright getting “acceptable” modifications that were easy enough to hide if need be. By this point, we’d lived in rural hell for a year or so. I knew exactly how much anything out of the norm scared the shit out of these people.
I swallowed my pride & told him I’d comply with whatever company policy was if they gave me a chance. I had a baby, J’s job wasn’t paying for shit, we needed money. I was desperate & I’m sure it showed on my face plain as day, as much as I tried to hide it.
He smirked at me & told me to dye my hair & come knock on his door again sometime. My stomach churned. I quietly grabbed my purse, said the usual bullshit pleasantries that pass for goodbye in this situation & walked home with what I can only describe now as stubborn resolve.
As J went to work that night, I got to work googling “how to make money on the internet”. Within a week, I had a plan.
“Welcome to the internet! Anything that brain of yours can think of can be found. We’ve got mountains of content, some better, some worse. If none of it’s of interest to you, you’d be the first.” – Bo Burnham
After a week of poking around the internet I stumbled on to a green, beachy site that responded like the last time it was updated was when JenniCam was still a thing. But the women on it seemed to actually be making money. I was so sure it was some sort of scam, but also too stubborn to not at least have a second look & try to get the people who seemed to already be working on it talk to me. Being someone who was practically raised on the internet I eyed the prospect of making money to be hot & naked on the internet with what I think was the proper amount of skepticism.
I picked the top girl to approach first, which I know now was a mistake (and for good reason – don’t bother people while they’re working). She banned me faster than I could figure out what the fuck happened. Okay. Cool, cool.
I realized part of the problem might be the language barrier. A lot (and I mean a good 75%) of the top earners on this site seemed to be from Eastern Europe. I sorted by country & did my best to find someone who shared my native language who wasn’t going to immediately axe me, a faceless name in their DM’s, as competition.
I scrolled the green & white sea of face until I spotted one that seemed to have the same vibe I wanted to put on display. Nerdy, tattoos, piercings & a sugary-sweet “fuck you, pay me” disposition. I still remember her name, but who knows if she’s still active or even wants her cam years associated with that particular moniker.
I’d learned my lesson by this point & decided that it was best NOT to try and talk to her while she was working. I emailed her from the site listed on her profile, but I’ve never been a patient person. I just needed one simple question answered before I filled out all the necessary forms & hopped my happy ass on cam to cosplay a sexy person. Was this real? Did you actually get paid?
I pre-wrote my question as short form & direct as I could & pasted it into her DMs. I held my breath as I saw her typing back a response. I was more than ready for it to along the lines of “fuck off, I’m working”, but instead I got a simple “Yep.”
I skirted out of her chatroom as quickly as I could & started navigating how to get started on doing this gig myself. I had already confirmed via some trash social media site that there indeed was a market for what I had to bring to the table by posting tease-y, trashy pictures that I now cringe over whenever my best friend stumbles onto some hard drive where they live. The response was pretty clear & I was going to put the theory of being hot enough to get paid for it to it’s final test.
“When you did it for a means to an end. And I’ve learned to not be ashamed of anything that I’ve done. And that my todays and my yesterdays, they can be my business, but I can share with the world. Don’t be ashamed of them. Learn something from it.” – Kublai Khan
It’s insanely hard to condense 10+ years of online sex work into a few blog posts. And while I still plan to attempt to remember & write down as many of them as I can, I feel like my “one foot on the platform, the other foot on the train” exit from the industry is fresh enough to be written about first.
A lot of questions I’ve gotten regarding my job that flood back to me when I think about the last two years I actively created new content. The most prevalent one is “don’t you think you’ll regret it someday?” and a year or so on the outside looking in has taught me that I don’t. If anything it was essential to discovering who I actually am.
“But there’s pics of your _____ on the internet. What if someday you want to delete them?” is another one that’s came up a lot over the years. And the answer to that is simple: vanity. I was hot as hell in a lot of the content spread around & I’m pretty proud of it. I don’t see that changing anytime soon, possibly ever. I’m unphased (even slightly elated) by the idea I (and many other perverts) unintentionally created a time capsule devoted to my naked body dispersed all around the lovely series of tubes we call the internet. You just have to know a few keywords & Google does the heavy lifting to find the rest.
The only regrets I have about my time floating around the slutty side of the internet is I didn’t do more with what I had & I trusted the absolute wrong people way too often. But again, I learned A LOT.
A lot of the skills I have regarding coding, largely came from being frustrated with the sites I was working on not offering resources to offer more. My tolerance for and ability to sniff out bullshit were honed to a fine point. I made friends who were more supportive than a younger version of me deserved. And in a way it (softly) introduced J & I to the idea of non-monogamy.
Hell, the small-but-mighty fan base that lasted with me for all those years from camming to clips to whatever hell else I could try, were the first steady visitors to this blog!
Then MasterCard shit the bed. It had been going south (for me personally and the industry as a whole) for awhile, but once the religious right got the ear of the payment processors, the party was over for me. They started banning innocuous acts as indecent & making arbitrary rules in the name of “protecting the children” when statistically a kid is WAY more likely to get groomed and hurt on any given social media site than a porn one, especially those that are paywalled. Those same sites also (statistically) have more CSAM on them than porn sites, again, because ID & consent forms are a requirement, even on the biggest tube sites.
Being the asshole I am, the regulations didn’t make me immediately throw up my hands & quit. I decided I’d try one last time with a video idea that I was obsessed with.
I got a reputation in the camming community early on for having a blasphemy kink. Years of your childhood dedicated to being indoctrinated into something you (loudly) neither trusted nor believed will do that.
“Fuck it.“
I figured if any video was going to get me booted the fuck off clip sites or wrist-slapped, the one I had in mind definitely would.
To be totally honest, it’s easier if I just show you instead of trying to describe it. It was my final fuck you, my magnum opus of smut.
And it was immediately taken down for hate speech.
In the usual fashion I took my defeat on the chin and immediately DM’d XHamster to describe the video and see if it would be allowed to be hosted on their platform.
The support person scoffed & said “Of course!“
It was a tiny shred of victory in the mountain of defeat that I felt like I was climbing down from.
I uploaded it, shared it everywhere I could and just…stopped. I was done. I had taken all I could between the sites I worked on, the assholes I dealt with & the mental damage taken from putting your all into something only to have it flop, fail or be told it can’t be hosted because it’s “indecent“.
A decade plus of trying to find my way & the straw that broke the camel’s back was being told that I, as someone who has seen the ugly face Western religion wears when you lift up it’s church hat veil, was not allowed to fuck a bible.
Fine. I’ll take my ball & go play elsewhere. Elsewhere just happened to be here, on this weird little blog. Granted the pay is A LOT less, but until they fully remove my content from all the clip sites it’s scattered around on I still make a couple bucks here and there from sales when people stumble across them.
Don’t get me wrong, I still do a private Snapchat story or the odd custom video, but I can’t imagine I will ever go back to making content at that level ever again.
No matter how much I may not like the idea someday (though I doubt it), nothing on the internet is ever actually deleted. What goes on the internet, stays on the internet. Thanks to Google & porn pirates, if the internet exists, I’m sure my slutty little time capsule stays intact.
