Chapter Text
When in a dress or a skirt, two inches below the knees is required.
When wearing heels, nothing above two inches, and flats are way more preferred. Nothing much to be said about the hair, but any appearance that is pompous is not allowed at the Sunday church.
If not pompous, in the most basic sense, to live a life against the teachings of the Sunday church is pure filth and should be punished. You aren't going to live such a life, are you?
At least that is what people believe.
You, the daughter of one of the founding pastors, abided your entire life by the rules of the church. Sunday dress code is tip of the iceberg — because one of the main teachings is to obey your parents, you had never protested against being disallowed from doing sleepovers, hanging out beyond a certain time, dedicating your Sunday to something else, and you're just all about being a good girl. It's okay, right?
Everyone loves you and adores you.
The daughter of one of the founding pastors is beautiful and dilligent, respectful to elders, and the number one listener to her father's worship. Despite the greater being having nothing to do with your consistently stellar academic performance, you said, you owe it to god.
You said, you owe it to the church for raising you into the twenty year-old young woman that you are today.
Worship and obey, abide, praise, and lift it all up to the heavens.
But goodness gracious, even just one day in a week of being the good daughter and member of the church is no longer bearable. This is not you, that is not you. What are you, really?
You're a whore.
Your insides shiver with excitement when you embrace that label. No, not yet completely though. After all, if you do, repercussions will be unbelievable. So what makes you a whore?
In your closet, behind those Sunday church dresses and university clothes, that's where the basic whoreification hides. Pastel crop tops that sometimes reach your upper ribcage, more often than not, most could barely cling to your underboob. Pleated skirts that seem to be custom-made, or who knows, since a lot of your patrons note that they're just slutty enough to cover so little of your ass. And you have a lot of long socks for a very defined audience of both men and women who like thighs and legs, especially when they shake with an egg vibrator inside you.
Fifty dollars if you squirt.
Double or more if you cream on a dildo.
This is your alternate world, the other persona where you are free — a cam girl with over fifty thousand subcribers, and a peak audience view of thirty thousand views during one of those streams.
In that stream, you matched both your hormonal and horny need to missionary a dildo while roleplaying in a tennis uniform. Of course, the crowd went wild with your ass and a POV; most of your audience teases you with a huge amount of money to show your face, but na-uh.
To hide your identity, you would wear good wigs and a cloth mask. You talk with a more lascivious voice pitch, a little different from your normal talking voice.
"Oh god, sorry. Did I make everyone wait too long? I did errands, so I had to eat real quick."
Ironically, you set up a stream on Sundays as well, at eleven in the evening until twelve midnight. That was just enough to get some cocks and pussies getting beat while watching you, and another thirty minutes for those who can afford the VIP period.
Everything is sexual here, basically everyone is watching you with a hand ready to nut. And so it has always been predictable for the comments to be the way that they are.
[VIP_Patron: angrybird11] Not as long as my dick that wishes you could've eaten it instead.
[Normal_Patron: WeinerChickenDiner] No roleplay tonight?! 😔
[VIP_Patron: 11inchesReal] Bet you can cream three times in a row let daddy send money in advance
Then there is that one VIP Patron who doesn't talk much, and just immediately sends money.
[VIP_Patron: MonkeDaddy] - VIP Patron MonkeDaddy has sent you a gift. Open your gift tab to see the amount. -
"Nah, you guys did wait a long time. That's a lot of messages, one after the other." You chuckled, flattered. "But there's no roleplay tonight. I'm wearing what I would usually wear, so imagine me as your girlfriend?"
You can't answer everyone with at least two thousand in audience, a few minutes since you went live. But there is business going on here, so those who send gifts get a shoutout, as that encourages your viewers to compete for your attention.
Which has most of them going crazy, so they end up being neck to neck, and you can finish the evening with around five thousand bucks in just one and a half hour of being the slut that you love yourself as.
"Hi MonkeDaddy, always the quiet one with the gift firsthand. Hope to see you at the VIP session later." You stuck your tongue out, watching more comments get horny over you in realtime.
Tonight, you're wearing a tight and fit white shirt, and a solid black underwear. Now with the top lifted, you're drawing circles on your nipples, moaning lowly.
VIP Patron user MonkeDaddy never really survived at least five minutes with all of the streams he had watched from you.
But that means he's drawn enough into your enigmatic streaming persona, thinking of you as the hottest fuck ever. You are his type — aware of your sexual appeal, and a face that though you always hide, he's sure he has seen you in some angles specifically in the VIP sessions where you had slip-ups. He thought, what a gorgeous woman even with just a little revelation, what more if you were actually riding him and he can see you full face.
Of course, Zeke Yeager, a.k.a your VIP Patron MonkeDaddy, never imagined contentment or utmost sexual satisfaction in paying the streams of camgirls like you.
He is fuckable enough to have actual weekly flings, but goddesses like you have power, and so Zeke has been choosing you more in the past few months. A thirty year-old bachelor like him has great income sources, has nothing to worry about, and can throw in money in your streams whilst fantasizing that he is your favorite.
And who knows, maybe if there was a way to get to know you, you might spread your legs for him.
Zeke Yeager, your beloved MonkeDaddy VIP Patron, is a nasty man when you do your streams. On his laptop, your stream is on if he feels like sending a gift. But the same stream plays on his tablet, so his sore and stuffed cock is against the gadget screen that sadly, is in between of what this is all just about. At least, it seems like his dick is on your ass now. Not bad, he thought for once that it seems lame, but if he would stop judging himself, then no one else will.
Besides, Zeke is convinced that any sort of cum tribute for you is logical. You're his favorite cam girl, and he immediately ended his earlier subscription on other channels because you deserve all that he has got.
Six feet tall, wide-chested, buff with muscular arms and carved abs, the more that Zeke pumps himself to the sound of your moans, the more that the veins of his arms pop. He's sweating, the cold rim of his spectacles feeling cold against his hot face.
As you are on all-fours, on cam, you reached your own orgasm midway in the stream, and the egg vibrator slips out of your cunt.
"Holy fuck, what a sex doll." Zeke gasped, making a shameless mess on his tablet with his own load dripping on the screen.
On your stream, viewed from an off-cam phone for you to see comments, you saw user MonkeDaddy on the message screen again.
[VIP_Patron: MonkeDaddy] - VIP Patron MonkeDaddy has sent you a gift. Open your gift tab to see the amount. -
[VIP_Patron: MonkeDaddy] Baby, time for you to open up private rooms. Would pay plenty of bucks for you to cum and say my name.