Hailie always played the good girl. Not innocent, per se, but *curated*. A vibe. Petite, perky, a touch of gloss and giggle. A natural blonde with straightened hair, a blunt fringe, and big blue eyes that blinked like she didn't know exactly how filthy she was being. The internet loved her that way.
Her fans called her princess, because she always wore a tiara on stream. She was their little obsession. Five foot two and fun on her knees. She didn't have to do much - just look up at the camera with her lips parted and a lollipop ready to suck, and they'd fall apart for her. She was the darling of the scene. Soft. Polished. Safe.
And she liked it that way.
She'd built something. A brand, sure, but more than that. A world. Her world. Pink LED lights, pastel toys, a list of rules in her bio like commandments etched in glitter. No anal. No humiliation. No rough stuff. And absolutely, absolutely, no BBC.
She'd written it out once in a Q&A, biting her lip like it hurt her to say no:
"No hate but it's just not my vibe, chat 😘 I like cute things. Soft things. Things that fit 💕"
But the messages never stopped.
"Bet you'd look even cuter with a real man behind you."
"Soft girls break the hardest."
"Go Black, princess. Let him ruin you."
She read them all, of course. It was her job. But she pretended not to. Never mentioned the increasing tip amounts attached to the calls for her to do a scene like that. But there was something about the repetition. It got inside her head. Like a leak in the roof. Drip, drip, drip.
Occasionally, she would click on the profiles of black performers. Looking. Wondering. They were so big. So powerful. She closed the browser window quickly, blushing. She didn't even do scenes with white guys, why would she subject herself to THAT?
She wasn't racist, she was sure of it. She'd even had black friends, back at high school. It was just a line, she reasoned. A limit. Something to hold onto in an industry where everything seemed negotiable. Besides, Hailie thought, giving in like that would destroy her brand - "You can't pretend to be an innocent princess when you've been..." she shuddered at the thought, "defiled".
But one night - late, alone, vibrator still humming on the edge of the bed - she discovered something about herself. She always talked dirty when she masturbated, just to get in the mood, and she found herself whispering the words to no one: "You really wanna see me take a black cock, baby?"
Her pussy clenched.
She came before the sentence ended.
She didn't mean anything by it, she thought.
Not *really*.
The next day, though, she posted a selfie with her lips glossier than usual and a caption that said:
"What would you do if I said yes?" 💋
She timed it right - peak engagement hour. Her phone buzzed like it was about to explode. Comments flooded in. Tips, tributes, wild promises. Ten dollars just to say "Do it." Fifty to write out a fantasy in graphic, unfiltered detail. One guy dropped five hundred without a word, just a black spade emoji.
It should've freaked her out. It didn't.
It turned her on.
So she gave them more.
A week later, she did a video in a tiny pink thong and a cropped tank with a black bull silhouette right across her tits. It was subtle, she thought. Deniable. People can see what they want. When someone asked what it meant, she winked at the camera. Slid her fingers between her thighs. Came hard to the thought of it - them - watching. Imagining.
She told herself it was just a kink. A bit. Performance art. She was an actress, wasn't she? She could play the fantasy without ever crossing the line.
"Maybe next time, I'll take a bigger toy," she cooed in her next caption.
"Gotta train for something thick... right?" 💦🍆🖤
The tips tripled.
Her follower count exploded.
And still she swore it didn't mean anything. She was just playing. Flirting. Cashing in on their thirst. Men were so easy to manipulate. "By the time they realize I'm not going to give it up, I'll be sunning myself on a beach in Jamaica..." she thought. "Or Hawaii!" she quickly corrected herself, blushing.
But the more she teased, the more they believed. The comments changed. Less pleading, more expectation. Like they already owned her. Like it was inevitable.
One night, she sat naked on cam, legs spread, stroking herself slow while reading aloud the filth they typed at her.
"Stretch that pink pussy open for us princess. Always, chat."
"You're not a real slut till you've been broken. Mmm, are you offering?"
She glanced at the next one. "Guys..." she worked herself up, grinding against herself. "I can't believe this next one." She writhed. "It just says..." she was close, fuck, "My favourite color is Black." She came hard. Had to mute her mic so they wouldn't hear her moan like it was real.
She almost came again when she saw how many tips hit her account in the next sixty seconds.
The next day she ordered a new toy. It was just a joke, she told herself. A prop. A bit. She spent all day nervous, waiting for the doorbell to ring, and when she took it from the delivery driver she felt, somehow, that he could sense what was in the box even though it had no markings.
She'd spent the rest of the day hyping her next stream - "Special surprise tonight, boys 😘 Hope you've been good..." - and when the time came, she appeared on cam in a white lace bra, tiny heart-shaped pasties barely covering her nipples. Bubblegum-pink lighting, perfect angle, blonde pigtails tight. Signature tiara on her head.
Then she held it up.
The toy was absurd. Long, thick, dark brown silicone that looked more like a weapon than a dildo. The chat exploded. Tips crashed in like a flood. She giggled, cheeks pink, basking in it.
"Just for fun," she said, biting her lip. "Just playing around, mmkay?"
She didn't intend to ever use it properly. Something that big would never fit inside her anyway. At first she just held it while she masturbated. Rubbed it on herself. Sucked and licked it. But spending an hour like that gets you horny, and when you get horny, you get stupid, no matter which side of the camera you're on.
"$100 if you try to put it inside you right now," someone typed
"I'll donate $500," came a follow up.
"$1000 if you go balls deep!!"
She couldn't believe what people were offering. If even a tenth of them actually donated she'd make more this hour than in most weeks. Still, it felt like crossing a line. And even if she wanted to, surely there was no way it would fit.
But still, for that amount of money she had to try. When she straddled the big black dildo, when she angled the head toward her soaked little slit, something inside her shifted. She paused, breathing shallow. Her fingers trembled. They didn't believe she'd do it. On some level, neither did she.
But she did.
The stretch was unbearable at first. She gasped, eyes wide, pedicured toes curling as the toy opened her up more than anything had before. Her thighs quivered. The chat turned feral.
"Take it, princess!!"
