Page 1 of Doll

Chapter One

Gwen

“Seriously, I really don’t know what you’re so uptight about! You can position the camera so no one sees your face—just the…naughty bits.”

“Tiffany,” I replied. “No disrespect to you or anything. But that’s just something I can’t do.”

Tiffany, my best friend, frowned at me in the same way she’d done countless times throughout our friendship and would undoubtedly do countless times again. That frown said; you disappoint me, Gwen.

It still stung, but I’d mostly learned to get over it. Tiffany and I, while friends, were polar opposites. She was an extrovert and I was an introvert. She drank, I didn’t. She got attention from guys, I didn’t. She was always the center of the fun and I was always just on the outside of it all. But recently, to make money, Tiffany had taken up a new hobby—one she was doing her best to include me in.

That hobby? Being a cam girl.

“What’s the big deal?” she huffed. “You don’t have, like, a pussy tattoo or something do you?”

“What? No!” I laughed.

“A piercing?”

“No!”

“Admit it,” she pressed. “You got your hood pierced!”

“No, I didn’t—”

She gasped. “Your clit!? Like the actual thing?!”

“Tiffany! No!”

“I saw this video once where a boyfriend actually pierces his girlfriend’s clit with a needle at home with like an old sock or something stuffed into her mouth and then he fucks her.”

“Oh, God…”

“It’s actually really hot once you get over just how traumatizing it is.”

“That’s something I think I could go to my grave having not seen.”

“My point is this,” she continued, scooching up closer to me as we sat on the couch in my parents’ basement. “If no one can tell that it’s you—if no one can see your face—then why not just rub your fucking pussy for a bunch of anonymous strangers on the internet? It pays well, Gwen. Really well.”

I could see her argument, and her results. Tiffany had gone from being that girl who needed guys to buy her things, to the girl who wanted them to do it, because she was making enough money now to afford basically anything she wanted. Not only was she hot as Hell, she also had a special…talent.

Tiffany was a squirter.

I’d never actually seen her do it—and had no desire to see my best friend performing her sought-after skill—but I’d seen videos of other girls doing it.

There was still a ton of debate on the internet about what it was exactly that was spraying out of those girls like a garden hose with a thumb over the mouth. Was it pee? Was it something else? Female ejaculation was the technical term, and Tiffany could do it. She’d spray her webcam and actually had to invest in a waterproof one, and the guys would pay big bucks for it. And seeing as how I was in some pretty terrible financial straits, Tiffany had offered to bring me in, show me the ropes and also promo me on her channel, which seeing as how she already had thousands of fans, would be a huge and immediate boost to mine. But I just couldn’t do it.

It wasn’t because I thought it was wrong or anything like that. I wasn’t one to pass judgment on what a girl did to make her living, it’s just that I knew I simply wasn’t cut out for it.

You had to actually know what you were doing and I didn’t. It wasn’t just boys I had basically no experience with—it was everything.

Sure, I’d touched myself down there a few times as we all do when we’re young and learning about our bodies. But I’d never managed to find any success. It would feel good but then I’d reach the point where I’d just sort of stop, fizzle out. My proverbial spacecraft would fly nice and high but wouldn’t quite reach orbit before coming crashing back down to Earth and leaving me in a disgruntled heap on my bed, sweating and angry, wondering what the Hell was wrong with me.

Of course, I hadn’t told Tiffany that. She just thought I was stuck up or a prude or something and had a problem with the morality of camming. But that just wasn’t it. I literally had no idea how to do what needed to be done and wasn’t even sure if I could fake it. I could just picture some guy sitting at home, judging me like Simon Cowell judging a bad singer, posting comments in the chat about how terrible I was and how I was just faking it.

But still, Tiffany had a point; I did need money. I’d been accepted to Connecticut College, but with rising tuition prices, there was just no way my parents could afford to send me there, and I wasn’t looking forward to being $150,000 in debt for the next twenty years of my life either. It was either make money and go to Connecticut College, my dream school, or head to UCONN with Tiffany on in-state tuition. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but it just wasn’t my dream. So, right now Tiffany’s plan was the only one on the table.

“I know it pays well, Tiff,” I groaned. “I just don’t think I can do it.”

“What is the big deal?” she finally scoffed. “I always knew you were a little bit of a prude, but damn.”

“It’s not that, Tiff,” I replied. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“I just…”

“What, Gwen?”

“I’ve never really…done that,” I admitted. The silence that hung in the air for the next few seconds was like a guillotine blade dangling above my head.

“Wait—done what?”

“That,” I replied.

There. It’s all out in the open.

Gwen didn’t just let her jaw drop. She looked at me like I’d just told her I was an alien who’d taken control of her best friend’s body and was here to conquer Earth and I needed her help to do it.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Gwen!?”

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