Chapter 1

The two gorgeous naked webcam girls gazed at the messages in front of them with expressions of amusement and curiosity. 16 year old Anya, with her rich brown hair cascading over her tanned shoulders and warm brown eyes glinting mischievously, glanced at partner. “He wants us to do what?” she asked, her lips curving into a sly smile.

18 year old Irina, her long, fiery red hair falling in soft waves around her pale face, couldn’t contain her laughter. Her bright green eyes sparkled with joy as she looked back at Anya, her slender frame shaking with mirth. “This guy is something else!” she giggled, her voice light and musical.

The two Moldovan girls, both model height and looks, were the picture of youthful beauty and vitality. Anya’s tanned skin contrasted beautifully with Irina’s pale complexion, and together they formed a striking pair. Their slender figures, with tiny waists and taut stomachs, made them look like they had stepped out of a dream. Both had small, perfectly shaped breasts, and their long, tapered thighs added to their graceful elegance.

Anya’s hair, dark and straight, framed her lovely smile in a way that accentuated her innocence and beauty. Irina, with her adorable and almost angelic features, was equally captivating, her straight red locks adding to her allure.

Anya shook her head, still laughing. “They’ll ask for anything, won’t they? But hey, at least we’re having fun with it,” she said, her laughter infectious.

“And making money, Oh my God, I’m sweating so much from cumming!” Irina exclaimed through fits of giggles, causing both women to burst into laughter.

“What exactly do you mean, Irina?” Anya asked, feigning innocence but unable to hold back her own amusement. “I did all the work, but your pussy tasted nice!” Anya playfully teased.

“Yeah, but armpits,” Irina paused for a moment, thinking of the message. “Okay, I’ll lick yours! mine are sooo sweaty right now!”

“No problem, I enjoy the tickling,” Anya responded with a wide grin, her eyes shining with excitement.

Their small breasts bounced with each peal of laughter as they eagerly engaged in their playful exchange. Anya lifted her arms above her head and closed her eyes with a smile. She could feel Irina’s warm breath on her skin before feeling the soft wet touch of her tongue on her silky smooth armpit. The sensation made her giggle uncontrollably as she fell onto the bed and kicked her feet in the air.

“Anya! STAY STILL!” Irina leaned down and continued to tickle her armpits, sending both girls into a fit of laughter. Their infectious smiles and joyous energy were captured by thousands of male subscribers who watched them wriggle around naked and giggling. As they touched themselves all over their slim bodies - between their legs, on their feet, over their armpits and nipples - they hugged each other tightly while still laughing and giggling. Tears streamed down their faces as they continued to laugh.

As they lay down, The viewers could only see their feet, legs, and buttocks entwined as they playfully tugged at each other’s hair. As the giggles and laughter subsided, the room was filled with the sound of kissing. Their buttocks were so slim, even lying sideways the flesh of the cheeks could not obscure their smooth little pink lines of pussy and the pretty little pink dots of their bumholes.

With intense passion building between them, Irina and Anya’s bodies intertwined even more closely. Their hands roamed freely, exploring every curve and crevice. Soft moans mingled with their giggles.

Irina and Anya were deeply in love with each other, and this was their dream job. They didn’t have to do much work; all they had to do was sit in Anya’s bedroom, make love, and perform for thousands of eager, horny men around the world who paid for special requests like sending out used panties or armpit licking on camera.

Irina had started doing this by herself after getting tired of being pimped out by her boyfriend, and then convinced her friend Anya to join in. After a few performances together - shyly feeling each other’s breasts, spanking each other’s bottoms, and sharing chaste kisses - they became happy to bare it all for the world to see: their assholes, pussies, and breasts. More subscribers offered more money, urging them on to explore even more taboo activities like licking each other’s pussies and indulging in passionate kisses. Before long, they fell in love with each other and the sex became genuine.

“Seriously, Irina, we need to keep our customers satisfied,” Anya said as she sat up. Her subscribers could now see her small breasts, strawberry nipples, and tiny waist on her slender 5’6 figure. “So stop being lazy and let’s do this.”

Anya turned around and playfully poked her in the stomach again. “Come on, lazy bones! ‘Beast365now’ wants me to tickle your feet.” She motioned for Irina to get on all fours and give their viewers a nice view of her behind. “Just stay still this time,” Anya reminded her with a grin before proceeding to tickle her feet.

Irina rose to her knees, biting her lip with anticipation. She dropped her face to the pillow onto, arching her back and spreading her knees apart to reveal herself completely. The camera was focused on her buttcrack, but she didn’t mind. She used to be so shy about showing off her body, but now she didn’t care. She was earning more than her parents ever did, and any haters were just envious of her stunning physique. Her smooth, waxed pussy was prominent between her creamy thighs, a thin line of glistening pink flesh separating below from the tightly puckered rosebud of her anus.

Anya caught a whiff of the scent emanating from between her spread cheeks and couldn’t resist indulging in a quick lick, causing Irian to jolt and Anya to playfully spank her. Then she fulfilled the request, trailing her fingers over Irian’s delicate soles. Irina bit into the pillow, trying to stifle the moans as she fought back the urge to kick out. Anya smiled as she traced her fingers over the wrinkles and curves of Irian’s feet. Viewers could catch glimpses of Irina’s anus expanding and contracting as it reacted to the sensations on her sensitive feet.

Anya admired once more the delicate curvature of Irina’s buttocks before kissing them tenderly. She then returned her focus between the ass cheeks, using her tongue in delicate flicks and licks. As she continued to stimulate Irina, Anya brushed her hair aside to give viewers a clear view of their intimate activities. Not forgetting about the rest of Irina’s body, Anya also made sure to tickle her feet from time to time.

Their viewers were happy, thousands of cocks being stroked all at once, money flowing into the girls’ accounts from them.

Mohammed Sadat had just climaxed over his trousers, but satisfaction eluded him. had paid $50 for Anya and Irina to lick each other’s armpits, only to watch them briefly indulge before breaking into fits of laughter. When he tried to complain, his messages were ignored as the women moved on to entertain another viewer’s request for tickling feet.

But Sadat didn’t care about the fifty dollars. That amount was meaningless to him, a man whose wealth exceeded the wildest dreams of most. His father’s oil empire in the Gulf state of Azmara—where their family was connected to the royal family—had ensured a life of idleness for Sadat. He owned luxury apartments in London, New York, and Bangkok, and had lived a life surrounded by material excess. Yet, for all his riches, Sadat’s life was hollow, marked by a string of transactional relationships and fleeting pleasures that left him feeling more isolated and unfulfilled.

Standing at a mere five feet five, with a plump, soft build and a receding hairline that aged him beyond his thirty-five years, he lacked the charm or confidence that might have made his wealth more meaningful. Women in his life were drawn to his money, not to him, and even when they were, it was always on a superficial level.

In his youth, Sadat had tried to buy the affection and respect he craved, spending lavishly on clothes, cars, and nights out in exclusive clubs. But no matter how much he spent, it became clear that money couldn’t buy the genuine human connection he longed for.

When Sadat discovered Anya and Irina online, the stunning webcam models, he thought he had found something different. He became obsessed, pouring money into their account, convinced that his wealth would finally allow him to feel desired, even if only through a screen. But Anya and Irina treated him like any other faceless customer, laughing off his requests and moving on without a second thought.

The realization cut him deeply. Despite his immense wealth, Sadat was just another lonely, unattractive man vying for attention in a world that didn’t care about him. His obsession with Anya and Irina grew darker.

Sadat’s frustration boiled over as he stared at the screen, the images of Anya and Irina still playing in his mind. “Why? Why the fuck should these two white bitches ignore me?” he muttered through gritted teeth. “I have so much money, why do I have to stand in line with a bunch of weirdos and get them to obey me? It’s not fucking right!”

In a fit of rage, he slammed his fist into the mousepad, feeling the sting in his hand but ignoring it. The realization that he was just another pathetic male, no different from the others, gnawed at him. He felt like an idiot, played by two girls who barely knew he existed beyond the payments he made.

Sadat knew, deep down, that he should stop. He should walk away from the pornography, from the obsession that was consuming him. But the more they ignored him, the more he wanted them.

Irina and Anya, still buzzing with the energy of their recent performance, decided it was time for a break. They turned off the cam, exchanged playful slaps on each other’s asses, and slipped into some thongs before throwing on their dressing gowns. Giggling like schoolgirls, they made their way downstairs, the lingering scent of sex still clinging to them as they moved.

In the kitchen, as they reached for some lemonade, they were met by Daria, sister. Daria was two years older than Anya, at eighteen, and though she shared the same striking Slavic cheekbones, svelte figure, and long brown hair as Anya, the similarities between them ended there. Where Anya was carefree and rebellious, Daria was serious and devout. She sat at the dining table, her books spread out before her, and her expression darkened the moment the two girls entered.

“I can’t believe you think you can get away with this here! I heard you whores upstairs,” Daria spat, her voice thick with contempt. She clutched her book tightly, as if it were a shield against the world her sister had chosen. Dressed in her school uniform—a plaid skirt, white ankle socks, black shoes, and a white blouse—her skirt rode up slightly, revealing her tanned, tapered thighs, a subtle reminder of the similarity between them, even as she tried to distance herself from Anya’s lifestyle.

Anya rolled her eyes at her sister’s outburst, while her girldfriend Irina, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist a jab. “You getting ready to fail your High School exams?” she sneered, her annoyance with Daria plain. “Your little sister makes more money than you’ll ever see ... maybe you should give it a try.”

Daria looked with disgust at Irina Albulescu, her former classmate, who had dropped out of High School years ago. She could not believe the cheap tramp had managed to seduce her younger sister and take her into her world of filth.

Daria’s voice was tinged with anger. “You need to get out of here! Why can’t you rent your own apartment if you have so much money?” She turned to Anya, her voice shaking with the weight of her words. “If our father was still alive, Anya—” her voice cracked as she tried to maintain her composure, “—he would have beaten you so badly you’d never...”

“Oh, Daddy’s girl,” Anya mocked, her voice cold. She had always hated her sister’s lectures, her rigid morality. “Dad was an alcoholic and a loser. It’s no loss he’s gone. And as for Mummy...”

“Leave Mummy out of this!” Daria’s voice rose, her eyes blazing with a mix of fury and hurt.

“Mummy is probably drunk, right?” Anya shot back, her tone laced with bitterness. She knew exactly where to hit to cause the most pain.

Irina stayed silent, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. She didn’t want to side with Daria, but she also didn’t want to mock Anya’s mother either. Teodora Petrescu, their mother, was in her bedroom, asleep at four in the afternoon after a day of drinking wine. At just forty-one, she had once been a beauty, but the years had not been kind. The loss of her husband in a car accident in Germany and the subsequent financial strain had taken a severe toll on her.

Living in a cramped apartment in Chișinău, Moldova, life had become a daily struggle for Teodora. The small space felt suffocating, the thin walls offering little privacy and no escape from the loud lewd sounds that filtered through from Anya’s webcam work with Irina.

Teodora was deeply ashamed of what Anya had become—her once promising daughter reduced to performing for strangers on the internet. But more than that, she was ashamed of herself. Ashamed that she couldn’t provide for Daria, who was desperately trying to study and build a future despite the chaos around her. Ashamed that, as a mother, she had failed to keep her family together and respectable after her husband’s death. The weight of these failures bore down on her every day, pushing her further into the bottle as she tried to numb the pain.

“Stuck-up bitch,” Irina muttered as she stuck her tongue out at Daria and downed her lemonade in one gulp. “Come on, Anya, let’s grab a shower and go out to treat ourselves at the store. At least somebody makes money in this place!” she added with a mischievous laugh.

“Yeah, let’s go back upstairs,” Anya agreed, casting a weary glance at her sister.

“We have hardly any hot water left,” Daria snapped, her voice tight with frustration pointing at Irina. “That bitch should be paying for using it for a shower!”

“It’s alright, Daria,” Anya replied sweetly, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “We take our showers together anyway, so it won’t cost extra.” She laughed, and Irina joined in.

Daria’s face flushed a deep crimson, and she instinctively made the sign of the cross, as if to ward off the sinfulness she felt enveloping the space. She could only watch in silent dismay as the two girls headed back upstairs, their dressing gowns slipping off their shoulders. They grabbed at each other’s flesh, giggling like carefree schoolgirls.

Daria felt a mix of anger and helplessness. She couldn’t understand how her sister could be so carefree, so reckless, so perverted, while she was burdened with the weight of their family’s troubles. As she heard their laughter fade into the distance, Daria clenched her fists, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. She felt trapped—trapped by the expectations placed upon her, by the memory of their father, by the shame that filled every corner of their cramped, miserable life.

In the shower, the girls turned on the water, and giggled as the water poured over them, play fighting to get under the shower water, splashing each other, wetting their hair, and soaping up their bodies.

Anya cackled and knelt down, taking a bar of soap to Irina’s lower regions. She vigorously scrubbed at her pussy lips, pushing the soap inside. “There, now it’s nice and clean,” she declared with satisfaction as she rubbed suds over Irina’s stubbly mons.

Irina couldn’t contain her laughter at the overwhelming sensations. Her hand instinctively reached up to tug at her own hair, while her other hand played with her nipples. She lifted one foot onto the edge of the bath, giving her girlfriend easier access to explore between her thighs.

“Well I already know your asshole is clean” giggled Anya, as she brought a soapy finger inside it. The girls thoroughly douched each other every day, understanding that pleasuring each other’s anuses with fingers and tongues was always in high demand. It served as a strong incentive to maintain a strict diet, knowing that the job required their asses to be clean and ready for the insertion of fingers, tongues, and large dildos on camera.

As the soap washed away, Anya ran her tongue over her freshly cleaned vagina and relished in the familiar taste. The slight stubble of ginger hairs on her skin pricked against her cheeks as she indulged.

After drying off, they quickly changed into some clothes. Due to the nature of their show, they often went through multiple pairs of panties and sometimes ran out. However, they didn’t let that stop them; they simply swapped and reused each other’s thongs that had just been worn. “I love the sensation of your pussy on mine, even if it’s just for a few hours,” giggled Anya. “And we can always sell them later too! That’s where most of them end up anyway!” laughed Irina.

“Remember when we stole Daria’s granny panties?” Irina giggled, “I snuck them out of her laundry and sold them online for a hundred bucks. The buyers thought they were ours!” Anya joined in the laughter. “She was so confused, looking for them everywhere,” she added. “Those little yellow ones with ducks on them, hahaha!” Both girls collapsed into a fit of giggles once again, thinking about poor Daria wearing the silly little panties.

Mohammed Sadat would have been irritated by this had he known who had worn the knickers. He was attempting to move on from the armpit rejection and instead focused on the crotch of a pair of mini yellow panties adorned with little ducks. A thin layer of dried white cream covered the gusset fabric, which he carefully licked, trying to prolong the experience while savoring the scent and taste. In his mind, he imagined Irina wearing these panties, her gorgeous body snug inside them.

Daria had been furious that her sister—or worse, that slut Irina—had worn her knickers and lost them. She had no clean underwear left and swore at the girls’ offers of thongs and other panties that looked scandalously lewd. As she sat studying, she felt the string of her thong rise between her legs, hug at her labia lips, and bite into her inner thighs. She could not deny it felt ... nice ... but hated the fact she enjoyed it, such slutty underwear. She hated that the two whores in her house earned so much money that she had to borrow their underwear; she and her mother were so poor. Work at the factory and studying brought little money, but she prayed it would all be worth it when she became a doctor and her sister became a used-up prostitute.

She was disturbed by the sound of high heels as her sister and her girlfriend trotted down the stairs. Irina was in a tight green mini dress showing off her slim figure; it ended barely below her crotch. Daria disapproved but was entranced, instinctively trying to catch a sight of her panties under the skirt as she walked, her thighs almost meeting at the hemline.

“Daria,” tutted Anya, “are you perving over Irina, trying to see her knickers? Tut tut.”

“Shut up, anyway, you spoiled little whore! I couldn’t avoid it; that dress is like a T-shirt, showing off your pussy, you shameless harlot,” she hissed at Irina, who just sultrily adjusted her stance, spreading her legs, teasing Daria by sliding her dress up her hips, revealing a flash of her white gusset.

Anya, clad in a loose, short plaid skirt and crop top, giggled and slapped her girlfriend on the butt. “Come on, Irina, let’s do some shopping and leave these losers,” thinking of her mother and Daria.

“Hey, Daria,” Irina called to Daria as they strode out, her long white legs glistening in the afternoon sun. “We are going to get some lingerie. Once we finish with them, you can wear them—just promise to wash them first and not sniff them.”

“Shut up and get out!” Daria screamed at the two laughing teases and threw a book at the door as it shut. She looked at a portrait of Jesus on the wall and crossed herself again. She thought of the underwear she was wearing now, and how many men had watched her sister and her disgusting girlfriend prance around in them beforehand.