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Do I want to be needed by him?
That’s a question I find myself wondering far too often. Isaac and I have a weird relationship. It’s comfort and connection. Friendship and family. It’s a bond formed by tragedy and heartache that most days feels unshakable.
But then there are nights like last night.
Nights where I feel more prisoner than anything.
Sighing, I blink away the wetness gathering in my eyes and slip my phone from my hoodie. With Isaac in Tennessee at the South Baptist quarterly training for the next week, I’m free.
Well, as free as I can be while still working at the church, maintaining the house, and picking up a lot of the appointments he’ll miss.
But at least I won’t have a babysitter.
Or a curfew.
I smile, opening the private email folder hidden deep in my phone where no one, especially Isaac, would ever find it. It’s been over a week since I’ve had enough time to catch up on notifications and requests.
Usually, I try to create as much content as possible when he leaves once every few months, knowing I won’t find the kind of privacy I need when he’s in town. But I can’t fulfill requests or take on extra gigs when he’s home. There’s no way.
A giggle builds in my throat at the thought. Holy shit. I can’t even imagine Isaac catching me. He would die and then he’d resurrect, just to kill me and drag me back to Hell with him.
Once I’ve accessed my messages, I skim through them, looking for any that catch my eye. It’s hit or miss, and I’m likely pickier than most people. Not because I don’t need the money—I do. I’m just still coming to terms with this new hobby of mine.
I’ve been camming for a few months now. It was never something I’d imagined getting paid to do, and it took a lot of convincing to give it a try, but once I did, I was hooked.
It’s powerful.
Exhilarating.
It’s also scary as hell.
So much so that had it not been for my best friend, I would have never given camming a try. But Oli convinced me.
It’s because of her that I’m here scrolling through filthy, insane, and depraved requests from people all over the world. It’s because of her incessant pushing, where she all but created the Favorite Fans account for me, that I have a hidden box full of kinky costumes and sex toys. Not to mention I’m thousands of dollars closer to my goal.
Leave Divinity Falls and see the world.
See everything.
What started off as me posting mostly innocent faceless images has now become a living, breathing job. I took requests and posted random content. I grew my follower count and subscriber list. All the while, learning what I enjoy, exploring my body, and embracing my sexuality.
Something I never thought I’d do.
I uncross my stiff legs, letting them fall so I can push myself on the porch swing. I’ve just lifted my coffee to my lips when my eyes land on a particularly wild request.
Fuck yourself using a wooden broom handle with a plastic bag over your head. Don’t come until you can’t breathe: $150
Holy fucking shit.
My coffee sprays from my lips as I choke on nothing, the line replaying through my mind. A bark of laughter escapes me at the absurdity of it. I get crazy requests daily. Some are downright insane but this? This is suicidal. Don’t people know that?
I grimace.
They do. They totally do and unfortunately, I think that’s part of the kink for them. I’m not one to kink shame. In fact, I’m pretty open to just about anything. Even if it’s not something I’d personally try, I can objectively appreciate it.
As long as it’s consensual, legal, and safe, who am I to judge? Except for this request.
Definitely not safe and definitely not happening.
