The camera is always on, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way because being a total bimbo means I live for the attention. My life is basically a nonstop loop of snuff porn fantasies come to life, and I spend most of my time making sure my makeup is perfect and my lip gloss is extra sticky for the lens. But today, things took a turn that made my little nigger brain short circuit in the best way possible.
I was just lounging in my silk robes, admiring my latest filler and pouting at my reflection, when I realized someone was watching me… and not just through the official pay per view stream. I heard a faint click from the hallway, and then a shadow slipped past my bedroom door, making my heart race under my lacy bra.
Most girls would scream, but I just blinked my long lashes and felt a rush of heat between my thighs. This unknown stranger didn’t want my jewelry or my designer bags; he wanted the version of me that lives for the most vulgar, weird, and over the top demands. He stepped into the light, masked and silent, holding a folder full of photos he’d taken of me when I thought I was alone.
It was a total invasion of privacy, but seeing how obsessed he was with my “cum facials” and my ditzy personality made me melt. “Are you lost, or are you just here to worship me?” I asked, my voice breathy and high pitched, the perfect bimbo invitation. He didn’t answer with words; instead, he pulled out a list of the filthiest things he wanted me to do, things that even the wildest directors wouldn’t dare to script.
He was into the strange stuff… the kind of unknown taboo scenarios that require a girl with zero inhibitions and a huge appetite for being used. I watched him watch me, and I realized that having a stalker who knows every one of my dirty secrets is actually the ultimate power trip.
He moved closer, his presence heavy and intimidating, and I just tilted my head back, offering him the view he’d clearly been dreaming about. I’ve spent my whole career being a fantasy for thousands, but being the specific, private target for a stranger’s darkest impulses?
That’s a different kind of high. I’m his favorite toy now, a living doll designed for his pleasure, and as he started to guide me through his list of vulgar demands, I knew I was never going to want my privacy back. I was born to be watched, used, and absolutely ruined by someone who knows exactly how to break a girl like me.




















