Sundown Sinners

Chapter One: Self-Employed Porn Star

Chapter One: Self-Employed Porn Star

We all do whatever we can to scrape together a little extra cash. In the modern American economy, even one full time job, sometimes two, barely keeps the lights on. Supposedly it used to be different back in the wild west. According to the old men who love pretending they were there, a fourteen-year-old could ride out alone, buy a house for a hundred bucks, snag a wife by fifteen, and have a family by eighteen. They swear men had it easier back then, which is convenient when you can romanticize a past you never lived.

I didn't live in the wild west. I lived in my childhood bedroom of my parents' house, feeling guilty for not having a real job as I spent what little money I had on ramen and Coke. The only solace I had was that I didn't have to pay for video games, not as long as I kept being friends with Bertie anyway.

Bertie and I went way back. We met in the second grade, and just like me, he had a hard time making many friends. With a bowl cut, a strange smell, and clothes too tight to fit over his large frame, it was no wonder most kids avoided him. He was interested in space exploration and lightsabers and slaying dragons to save fair maidens, which wouldn't have been too out of place, had he not emphasized how much smarter he was than the rest of our class.

For my part, I was too quiet and too afraid of interaction to even try to make friends. So, when it came to choosing seat partners or PE buddies, we always somehow ended up together. Bertie was a loud, boisterous presence. Where I struggled to decide whether I wanted a ketchup or mustard packet with lunch, he would be in my ear, shouting about why mayonnaise was the superior choice. In truth, I didn't much care for Bertie; but he was all I had, and vice versa.

It was just the two of us, even at the end of high school. One would assume that in twelve years of public schooling we would be able to induct at least one more willing comrade into our pitiful ranks, but it didn't seem to be in the cards. When college admissions rolled around, I took the first chance I got to leave my shitty home town and my one constant companion. Bertie didn't seem to mind, since by the fall he was studying computer science at Berkley.

I didn't really know what I wanted to do in college, and maybe that's why I ended up pursuing a degree in history. I had always liked telling stories and reading dusty leatherbound books. Somehow, I had gotten it into my head that I could be a great explorer, traveling the world and uncovering the truth behind humanity's biggest mysteries. From there, I realized there was no money, and no room, in anything outside of teaching. With my fear of other people still prevalent, I shrank back into a role that seemed to suit me perfectly. An archivist.

To be an archivist, all one needs to do is find a place where one is needed. A degree in library science, history, or english definitely helps; but it isn't required. Once you have the job, you sit in a chair in a windowless office and go through hundreds of boxes of improperly stored artifacts. You would go through anything from old newspapers, to blurry tintypes, to ancient film reels. Once you had your materials, your entire world became organizing, cataloging, and throwing out useless junk that has long since degraded.

Archivists are important to preserving history. Without us, you would never be able to find out what happened to your great-great-great grandpa Joe, and why he was arrested for public indecency in 1890. Still, when a library loses funding, it's somehow always the archivists with their necks on the chopping block first. I had only been at the Pacific Crest for three months before I got a sudden knock on my office door. I was out, unless I wanted to work for free as a volunteer. That's what Larry did. Larry had been retired already for almost thirty years.

Instead, I came home with my tail between my legs, begging my parents for access to my old room while I figured out what I wanted to do with my life. As I moved their mountain bikes and bins of holiday decorations into the hallway, my mom helpfully suggested that I could always be a filing clerk at Dad's office. Dad replied that the position was meant for sixteen-year-old girls, and one currently occupied the chair anyway. I told them I would figure it out. That was six months ago.

My being home had caused a small rift between my parents. My dad believed, very loudly, that a man should never stoop so low as to ask his nearly elderly parents for support. It was my job, in his eyes, to be supporting them. Easy for him to say, being a lawyer and all. At the very least, he argued, I should be paying rent. My mother, however, was a much kinder soul. She knew that being home was already hard enough without my dad's constant berating. She said not to worry about rent, but I had a feeling her goodwill could only hold out against him for so long.

It was because of my lack of other options that I ended up filming videos. I had searched for days for something that could put my history degree to work, but anyone that might have considered me gave up once they realized I wasn't much of an interviewee. When they asked me questions, I never really knew how to respond.Tell us about yourself. That question still gave me nightmares.

It was in my search for any other options that I came across the post of a camgirl. Her username had been VileVixxen, and she had been posting on OnlyFans and Reddit for about two years before she developed what she referred to as the "ultimate money-making strategy." It all boiled down to this: Be hot, be willing, and have a good camera and even better lighting. As long as you put something out once every couple of days, guys would flock to you like flies on horse shit.

I wasn't a barely-twenty chick with great boobs and blonde hair, but Iwasstill under thirty and didn't look terrible in fishnets. With a steady diet of ramen and decent genetics, I was skinny enough to have muscle definition that a lot of people had to earn. So, I decided to take my shot.

Setting up the camera for the first time was a bit like sneaking out for the first time. Every movement I made was small and quiet, as if tightening the tripod would alert my parents to my degenerative behavior. I locked my door, turned on some old Christmas lights, and sat on my bed with my dick my hands. I had learned back at university that I liked guys way more than girls, so making content for the male gaze was a given. They also paid better, which of course helped.

I stared at my phone camera, nervous and unsure of what to do, but knowing I should do something. With a deep breath, I spread my legs and leaned back, biting my lip.

"Do you want to see me touch myself?" I whispered, my heart thudding loudly in my chest and drowning out my words. Even with the door locked, if my parents woke up and caught me like this, I was sure to be out on the street by tomorrow. Gooseflesh prickled along my arms and legs as I slowly slid my hand down my chest and stomach, settling it around my cock. I was already hard, though maybe that was from nerves more than arousal. The smooth flesh of my shaved pubes made me shudder.

"I'll show you what a little slut I am..." I told the camera confidentially as I began to jerk off my dick. I made sure to keep my face in frame and tried to think of anything but my dad snoring on the other side of the wall. My dad. At that point, I must have lost all sense of reasoning, because I suddenly imagined him bursting through the door. Instead of yelling in repulsion, he smirked, closing the door gently behind him before he turned the lock with a click.

I began to jerk off harder as I thought of him coming up behind the tripod, his arms crossed.

"Making a video? Who would want to watch you jerking off your pathetic little dick? You look just like a girl when you masturbate, it's embarrassing." He would shake his head wryly before slipping around the camera and coming to stand beside me, making sure not to block the view. "Come on, show them your hole if you want them to get excited." He would purr, his fingers slowly tracing down my thigh.

I lifted my legs, displaying my asshole to the camera. It puckered as a wave of pleasure washed through my body.

"You shaved here too?" He hummed, spreading my ass cheeks for the camera. "Well, at least your viewers can tell you're a virgin with a hole that tight."

I dripped lube on my finger and teased the rim of my asshole, imaging my dad's hand instead. Slowly, I pushed a finger inside of myself and moaned for him.

"Yeah, you like that you little slut?" He grunted as he pushed in deeper. "I'm going to stretch you out for everyone to see, and then I'm going to turn you over and fuck you like the little whore you are." I moaned again at his imagined words, beginning to thrust my finger in and out of my ass.

"Please... please use me like a fleshlight." I whispered to no one. "I'm just a cheap whore who wants to be fucked by my daddy's cock." I felt my dick twitch and immediately stopped jerking off. I was going to cum too quickly. I stared at the camera, panting from the exertion. "You wanna see me get fucked?" I asked my future viewers. I rolled over on the bed and reached for my bedside drawer. Inside sat a moderate sized, flesh-colored dildo. I hadn't used it yet, it had been bought for precisely this moment.

I turned back to the camera and made sure my hard dick was in full view as I spit on the tip of the silicon cock. Slowly, I swirled my tongue around the head, making eye contact with my imaginary father. I smiled to myself before I licked down to the base, slowly going back up. I bet mom had never made his dick this hard. I peppered kisses along the shaft, gradually moving upward as I sucked the tip into my mouth. My dad moaned, his hands finding my hair and pushing my head down deeper on his dick. With a moan, I took him to the back of my throat, keeping eye contact as I began to slowly bob my head. This huge dick was going to enter me. It was going to go inside my ass and fuck me until I forgot my own damn name.

I pushed the dildo further down my throat, gagging as the hard balls touched my chin. Tears sprung to my eyes, but instead of pulling it out, I reached down with my other hand and began to finger myself again.

"Getting your hole ready for me?" Dad said with a grin. "I bet you can't wait to feel a real man inside of you. Maybe this is how you'll pay rent from now on. I'll let you do whatever you want, but when I come home from work, I want you butt-naked, on your knees, waiting for me by the door. You're going to accept my load whenever I feel like it, you filthy little whore." My dick twitched again. Gingerly, I pulled the dildo from my mouth.

"I can't take it anymore!" I whimpered to the camera. "Please stuff my tight ass with your big, manly cock." I fell over onto the bed and raised my hips in the air, displaying myself openly. With one hand, I held my ass open. With the other, I slowly eased the dildo inside of me. I bit down on my comforter as I felt the dick push its way past the tight ring of my asshole. The hard rod stretched me open so completely I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"Fuck," I moaned, the sound low and lewd in my throat. I began to thrust, imagining my dad's hands on my hips, drawing my greedy hole back toward him with each powerful slam.

"You're so tight." He growled in my ear, a hand tangling in my hair and yanking my head up. "You feel just like a bitch. I'm going to fuck you raw every day from now on." The dildo bottomed out and I arched my back, moaning louder than I meant to, but being too fucking horny to care.

"Yeah daddy," I whimpered as the dildo thrust harder and faster inside of me. "You can use me every day. I want to feel your hard dick inside of me every second I'm alive!" With my free hand, I began to jerk off again, crying out as I neared my climax. I turned over, making sure the camera could see my face as I pointed my dick upward. My ass clenched and twitched around the dildo as my dick exploded with cum. The sticky, white substance hit me right in the mouth, coating my face with jizz.

My hips lifted from the bed of their own accord, shaking and spasming as I came harder than I had in my entire life. My tongue fell out of my mouth as I panted, my eyes rolling back into my head. I was such a little slut. I pictured my ass greedily drinking my dad's cum, milking it as if it were made to do so.

Slowly, my body relaxed and I crashed back onto the blankets, dildo still wedged tightly in my hole.

"Fuck," I moaned again, looking up at my phone. "I came so much..."

My cum dribbled down my chin, and without thinking, I licked it off of my lips. The taste was bitter and strange, but I used my finger to clean up the rest and deliberately licked it off as I made eye contact with my potential viewers. If this didn't make money, I didn't know what would.

In the end, that video had allotted me a total of twenty-three subscribers on OnlyFans. With each of them paying three dollars a month, plus paying for longer videos, I actually began to make a profit. It wasn't much money, but a few of my early subs began asking me for custom content. For fifty dollars a video, I would do almost anything they wanted. I would say their names, jerk myself off, dress in slutty maid costumes. After a month, most of them had dropped off, leaving just one guy who sent me twenty bucks each day in a 'good morning' message. I always responded by sending him a picture of my naked body, splayed out on my childhood mattress like a proper slut.

When I started making sexual content, I felt a lot of shame. I knew exactly how my dad wouldreallyfeel about such work, and I knew that if he ever found out, I could kiss my family goodbye. And yet, the more videos I made and men I interacted with, the less concerned I became. In the dawning age of social media, being a self-employed pornstar was a living in its own right. If other people didn't get it, that was their own issue. I was making money. I was saving it, too. Soon enough, if I could sell just a hundred more subscriptions, I would be making enough money to rent my own apartment again. If I sold five hundred more, I would surpass my wages as an archivist.

My parents had just left for a month-long trip to Germany, which meant the house was finally quiet. No Dad side-eyeing my life choices, no Mom hovering outside my door asking if I wanted a snack. Just me and Rigatoni, their geriatric, skeleton-like cat who lived to scream outside my door at 5 a.m. With no one home except her, I'd thrown myself deeper into the cam grind, telling myself it was temporary. A stepping stone. Survival.

This morning, I got the same message I always did from @daddydevdom, but there was something else attached.

daddydevdom: i was thinking of u last nite

bookslutboi: good morning handsome <3 I was thinking of you too

daddydevdom: i saw ur new video. so hotttt. makes me wanna fuck u for real

I paused, gaping down at my phone screen. Something cold seemed to slide down my back, and then that frigid feeling was everywhere, blossoming like a flower of horrified dread in the pit of my stomach. This guy was my last consistent client, and the only reliable customer for my custom content. If he was serious and I said no to meeting up, I could be losing a large income source for good. It was honestly mostly his money that was making up my financial stability. But I couldn't really meet up with him, could I? What if he murdered me? What if I knew him? I shook the thought away. I had to answer him, before it got weird.

bookslutboi: thanks haha, glad it made you feel good ;)

daddydevdom: where r u based? i could make it worth ur while

Fuck. Fuckfuckityfuck. How were you supposed to handle this situation? I knew that OnlyFans had something where you could report someone, but again, I really needed his money. I had to do something to derail this train of thought.

bookslutboi: normally i don't meet up with people! it's mostly for my safety, i hope you understand! i really appreciate your support tho and can make you any content you want!

He typed. He stopped. He typed again. He stopped again. Unconsciously, I held my breath as I awaited his response. He didn't respond immediately, which I could only assume was out of anger. Here he was spending almost a hundred and fifty dollars a week on a pornstar, and now he wasn't even getting what he wanted. Maybe I should offer him a freebie, just to keep him satisfied? With a buzz, I knew he responded. I slowly let the air hiss from my lungs as I tried to keep down my panic.

daddydevdom: i think u will wanna meet me elliot. we have a lot to talk about.

If I was cold before, I was now completely frozen. He knew my name. Presumably, he also knew where I lived. Could he possibly be someone I know? I thought back to my fantasies about my dad, but waved the thought away almost instantly. If it had been dad, I would've noticed something different in his demeanor by now. No, this was probably some hacker or something who knew my name and stuff from my IP address or something. Whoever he was, the threat was implicit. If I didn't meet with him, he would expose me, even if he didn't say so outright. I had no choice. In the end, maybe I never did.

bookslutboi: where and when?

I sent back numbly. My gaze drifted to the picture of me and my family hanging on the wall. We all sat uncomfortably in front of a plastic christmas tree, an old man dressed as Santa Claus perched behind us like a smiling, starving eagle. Our mousy faces turned toward the cameras, each of us pale and startled by the flash of the camera. Had we always looked so scared?

I stared up at the yellow house with a sort of numb acceptance, like that of a man staring up at the gallows where they would hang him later that day. Whatever happened now, everything was going to change. I tried to steel myself as I thought about how the next events could take place, only a street down from my parents' house. If I was lucky, the guy would be kinda cute. Maybe he would apologize for freaking me out. Maybe I would actually want to fuck him after getting to know him a bit. This could, in fact, be a good thing for me. After all, if we could negotiate a fair price, I could even do this on the regular and quit OnlyFans entirely.

No, I doubted that very much. Despite the cheerful paint and blossoming garden, this building felt more like a sanatorium than it did a nuclear family heaven. Whoever was inside of this house was not someone I wanted to meet, let alone have sex with. And yet, he knew my name. I didn't have a choice.

I adjusted the strap of my backpack uncomfortably as I climbed the steps up to the porch. I had left a note for my mom, telling her that I was going to stay with a friend tonight and not worry about me. I left her the address in a weak hope that if I disappeared and never came back, the police would at least have a place to start. My legs began to shake as I knocked on the heavy oak door.

"Coming!" A man cheerfully called out. His steps were heavy as they echoed through the two-story house. I sucked in a breath as I heard the brass doorknob turn. This was it. This was when I could face my tormentor. I tried not to think about how much of my body he had already seen. In a way, I was more intimate with this stranger than anyone in my entire life.

When I stood face to face with @daddydevdom, I suddenly found that I couldn't breathe. He was taller than me by at least a head and a half, and he outweighed me by at least two hundred pounds. His shirt barely covered his sagging, considerable stomach and he seemed to leer down at me from his high vantage. He had a goatee and rectangular reader glasses with no frame. But, perhaps worst of all, he was familiar.