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Kandie Kaine (Beth Kean)


Kandie Kaine by Beth Kean

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Meet Rebecca Caine, aka Kandie Kaine, a sexy webcam performer in demand.
Becky has her future carefully planned because she doesn't want to spend the rest of her life stripping for anonymous strangers. Just two more years, three at the most she has decided, and in that time she will save every penny.
Everything is going well, business is booming, her popularity has never been greater, but popularity also has a downside, especially when she doesn't realise that she has an unstable and obsessed stalker until it is far too late!
A stalker that will stop at nothing to possess her.

Product type: EBook    Published by: PMO Publishing    Published: 12 / 2016

We do not recommend this book for readers under 18 years of age

No. words: 12020

Style: Erotica -    Open Minded Erotica, Erotic Domination - F/F

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle

Current all-time sales ranking: #9775


Excerpt..

“Another day – another dollar.” she sighed. It had been an easy day, and for that she was grateful. Fortunately the hangover had moved from centre stage and taken a less obtrusive seat somewhere at the back, but she knew it was still there, reminding her that all levels of fun had their inevitable consequences. The night before had been all kinds of fun, but as she had logged into her account earlier that day she had regretted,
“I knew it would happen... but I still did it!” Hindsight was a wonderful thing she decided, but not much use when nausea raged and her head alternated between spinning and banging, and what made it all worse, in her job she had to smile, the customers watched her every movement and expression, she couldn't afford to be off her game, not even for one day.
But she had got away with it, she had earned her money, regular customers had left feeling satisfied, she had even managed to pick up a few new ones, and a couple of them looked quite promising, there were always a one or two, the men who went the extra mile, tipping well, frequent requests, daily income. These she nurtured, to these customers her smile was always slightly more genuine, her efforts more enthusiastic. “Maybe the Craig guy?” she wondered as she logged out of her account and opened her emails, “He looks very promising!” his tip had surprised her, which was a surprise in itself, the fact that her jaded mind could register genuine surprise. “Fifty quid... as a tip. Pretty impressive.” She liked tips the best, those perks she kept without any platform deductions.
“Let me just check before I turn off the computer,” she said as he email account opened, the message that she was hoping for sat in her inbox and she smiled, it was the end of the month, the period where electronic transfers were made, the wonderful time when all of her hard, and degrading work paid off.
Earnings Breakdown for May, the message read, attached would be an excel spreadsheet listing her activities during the previous month, times logged in, times logged out, earnings per day, per week, tips... everything. She never bothered with the spreadsheet, she was only interested in the figures at the bottom of the message.
**
Total earned, after deductions, for performer Kandie Kaine.
**
“It was a good month,” she gave a genuine smile, the figure was more than she had anticipated, “All that, just for flashing my tits and pussy on webcam!” She didn't like her current profession, but she had to admit... it beat the hell out of working.
***
“Now for a shower!”
Her fingers were slippery with baby oil despite the number of times that she had wiped them on a dry towel... her whole body was slippery under the light robe that she always wore, it hid the goods until payment had been received, after that, it could be shed instantly for those men who insisted on action from the first second, the type that ensured that they got their hardcore money's worth, every second filled to the erotic max, or it could also tease, she was skilled when it came to prolonging the removal of just one garment, for those clients who appreciated a little more art to their porn!
Kandie, aka Becky Caine, suffered under no delusions. While many other performers in her industry justified themselves claiming that what they did was performance art, Becky would laugh, “I give remote relief, what I do is interactive porn, nothing more, nothing less. They get to direct the action, I will say, do and show what they want... I love you John, Jeff, Jack, Josh. That's it, fuck me Dave, Doug, Don, what a beautiful cock, stroke it for me Colin, Craig, Charlie! If they pay, I will feed the fantasy, someone has to do it... and it's not like I will ever meet any of these guys!”
Always pragmatic, she understood that her window of opportunity was not infinite, she had made her début performance over three years before at the age of twenty four, in that time she had built a devoted following, regular customers who if she couldn't actually class as friends, they were at the very least close acquaintances. But the realist in her understood that if she had another couple of good years, that would be as much as she could hope for, thirty years appeared to be a barrier, inescapable, and because of regulations, she couldn't lie about her age, even if she did still look twenty one. As she reached the end of her twenties she expected to start losing her regulars, they would find fresher girls, younger girls... she would be relegated from the A-League, and she didn't relish stepping down.
So Becky worked hard, and saved hard, she had built a decent buffer against the time when her boobs would lose their natural elasticity, they had started to slip, that much she already knew, but provided the clients didn't comment she knew that it was probably more paranoia than a physical, noticeable fact.
“They should be firm still,” she chuckled, “I massage them for three to four hours every day! And silicon is silicon, regardless of age.”
Quickly she scanned through the rest of the messages sitting in her inbox, “Mostly junk,” she commented as she ran down the long list clicking check-boxes, preparing to delete, a message from her brother stood out, “One to read later,” she decided, Alan had missed his calling in life she often thought, his messages averaged out somewhere close to epic novel length, she never opened them until she knew that time would not be an issue. Becky continued down the list, clicking as she went, but suddenly paused.
Hi Becky. The title implied familiarity, the senders email address however was anything but familiar.
“Strange,” she whispered as she clicked to open, “Probably just someone that I know with a new email, probably letting me know that they changed!”
The message opened, and Becky began to read.
**
Dear Becky.
Sorry for approaching you directly like this, but I felt it important to contact you. I have watched your cam show so many times, I never tire of your beautiful smile, your sparkling blue eyes, such kissable lips, and of course, the rest of you. Oh my Becky, I could be so crude now, but crudity would only cheapen what I feel for you, but rest assured, there is not one part of you that does not surpass absolute perfection in my eyes. You are a goddess, my goddess, I worship you.
I hope that you will reply, but if not, know that I will be watching you still, my love will endure.
Your biggest fan . C
**
C? Becky scanned through her mental contact book, he is obviously a customer, because he has watched me...
C? She questioned again. She had lots of regulars connected to the letter C, several Charles', Charlie's or Chucks, a Colin, a Clive, two Craig's... even a Caspar, who always pushed the image of the cartoon ghost into her mind when he messaged her. And there are others, she admitted, those that she had recalled were just the tip of the iceberg, and there is nothing to say that he is a current customer, he could be from any time in the last three years!
The simple email shouldn't have bothered or concerned, after all, she received dozens every week, all of them professing undying love and devotion, some harmless, some disturbing, but she let the lust conveyed to her through the written word to wash over her and pass away without a seconds thought. But this message was different, this message hadn't come from her blog or website, the sender hadn't used any of her public contacts. He had used a private email, one that she used strictly for family, close friends and the official side of her work. No fan should ever have access, it was her most jealously guarded secret.
“So what do I do?” she questioned quietly, the urge to shower forgotten, she was faced with an invasion of privacy. “Change password, first job.” she said, although the action would be simply precautionary, he didn't appear to have accessed her account. Better safe than sorry, she nodded as small asterisks appeared in the password box, confirm the old before entering the new.
Knowing that she had secured access to her private account she should have felt more relaxed, but the main question demanded an answer. How?
How had her private email become public? Or who had revealed?
No-one that I can think of, she stared at the message, the address, a capitalised C followed by a string of what looked to be random numbers, and hosted by a leading free provider. No clues there! So what else can I do?
“Terry might be able to help.” she decided as the IT genius that managed her web site and blog sprung to mind, if anyone in her circle would be able to offer any explanation, for sure it would be Terry.
“And the message... what do I do? Reply, delete, send to spam?” Becky scanned the words again, maybe a second reading would reveal some clue, he made reference to her eyes, lips, smile, she searched memory for any conversation that she may have had, anyone who had made similar comments. “All of them.” she sighed, and with a feeling of resignation she closed the browser, but not before forwarding the message to Terry, along with her questions. “But I'll have to curb my curiosity for a while.” she stated, Terry lived half a world away, and she would have to wait for half a day before she could expect any reply.


Excerpt..

“Another day – another dollar.” she sighed. It had been an easy day, and for that she was grateful. Fortunately the hangover had moved from
centre stage and taken a less obtrusive seat somewhere at the back, but she knew it was still there, reminding her that all levels of fun
had their inevitable consequences. The night before had been all kinds of fun, but as she had logged into her account earlier that day she
had regretted,

“I knew it would happen... but I still did it!” Hindsight was a wonderful thing she decided, but not much use when nausea raged and her head
alternated between spinning and banging, and what made it all worse, in her job she had to smile, the customers watched her every movement
and expression, she couldn't afford to be off her game, not even for one day.

But she had got away with it, she had earned her money, regular customers had left feeling satisfied, she had even managed to pick up a few
new ones, and a couple of them looked quite promising, there were always a one or two, the men who went the extra mile, tipping well,
frequent requests, daily income. These she nurtured, to these customers her smile was always slightly more genuine, her efforts more
enthusiastic. “Maybe the Craig guy?” she wondered as she logged out of her account and opened her emails, “He looks very promising!” his tip
had surprised her, which was a surprise in itself, the fact that her jaded mind could register genuine surprise. “Fifty quid... as a tip.
Pretty impressive.” She liked tips the best, those perks she kept without any platform deductions.

“Let me just check before I turn off the computer,” she said as he email account opened, the message that she was hoping for sat in her
inbox and she smiled, it was the end of the month, the period where electronic transfers were made, the wonderful time when all of her hard,
and degrading work paid off.

Earnings Breakdown for May, the message read, attached would be an excel spreadsheet listing her activities during the previous month, times
logged in, times logged out, earnings per day, per week, tips... everything. She never bothered with the spreadsheet, she was only
interested in the figures at the bottom of the message.

**

Total earned, after deductions, for performer Kandie Kaine.

**

“It was a good month,” she gave a genuine smile, the figure was more than she had anticipated, “All that, just for flashing my tits and
pussy on webcam!” She didn't like her current profession, but she had to admit... it beat the hell out of working.

***

“Now for a shower!”

Her fingers were slippery with baby oil despite the number of times that she had wiped them on a dry towel... her whole body was slippery
under the light robe that she always wore, it hid the goods until payment had been received, after that, it could be shed instantly for
those men who insisted on action from the first second, the type that ensured that they got their hardcore money's worth, every second
filled to the erotic max, or it could also tease, she was skilled when it came to prolonging the removal of just one garment, for those
clients who appreciated a little more art to their porn!

Kandie, aka Becky Caine, suffered under no delusions. While many other performers in her industry justified themselves claiming that what
they did was performance art, Becky would laugh, “I give remote relief, what I do is interactive porn, nothing more, nothing less. They get
to direct the action, I will say, do and show what they want... I love you John, Jeff, Jack, Josh. That's it, fuck me Dave, Doug, Don, what
a beautiful cock, stroke it for me Colin, Craig, Charlie! If they pay, I will feed the fantasy, someone has to do it... and it's not like I
will ever meet any of these guys!”

Always pragmatic, she understood that her window of opportunity was not infinite, she had made her début performance over three years before
at the age of twenty four, in that time she had built a devoted following, regular customers who if she couldn't actually class as friends,
they were at the very least close acquaintances. But the realist in her understood that if she had another couple of good years, that would
be as much as she could hope for, thirty years appeared to be a barrier, inescapable, and because of regulations, she couldn't lie about her
age, even if she did still look twenty one. As she reached the end of her twenties she expected to start losing her regulars, they would
find fresher girls, younger girls... she would be relegated from the A-League, and she didn't relish stepping down.

So Becky worked hard, and saved hard, she had built a decent buffer against the time when her boobs would lose their natural elasticity,
they had started to slip, that much she already knew, but provided the clients didn't comment she knew that it was probably more paranoia
than a physical, noticeable fact.

“They should be firm still,” she chuckled, “I massage them for three to four hours every day! And silicon is silicon, regardless of age.” />
Quickly she scanned through the rest of the messages sitting in her inbox, “Mostly junk,” she commented as she ran down the long list
clicking check-boxes, preparing to delete, a message from her brother stood out, “One to read later,” she decided, Alan had missed his
calling in life she often thought, his messages averaged out somewhere close to epic novel length, she never opened them until she knew that
time would not be an issue. Becky continued down the list, clicking as she went, but suddenly paused.

Hi Becky. The title implied familiarity, the senders email address however was anything but familiar.

“Strange,” she whispered as she clicked to open, “Probably just someone that I know with a new email, probably letting me know that they
changed!”

The message opened, and Becky began to read.

**

Dear Becky.

Sorry for approaching you directly like this, but I felt it important to contact you. I have watched your cam show so many times, I never
tire of your beautiful smile, your sparkling blue eyes, such kissable lips, and of course, the rest of you. Oh my Becky, I could be so crude
now, but crudity would only cheapen what I feel for you, but rest assured, there is not one part of you that does not surpass absolute
perfection in my eyes. You are a goddess, my goddess, I worship you.

I hope that you will reply, but if not, know that I will be watching you still, my love will endure.

Your biggest fan . C

**

C? Becky scanned through her mental contact book, he is obviously a customer, because he has watched me...

C? She questioned again. She had lots of regulars connected to the letter C, several Charles', Charlie's or Chucks, a Colin, a Clive, two
Craig's... even a Caspar, who always pushed the image of the cartoon ghost into her mind when he messaged her. And there are others, she
admitted, those that she had recalled were just the tip of the iceberg, and there is nothing to say that he is a current customer, he could
be from any time in the last three years!

The simple email shouldn't have bothered or concerned, after all, she received dozens every week, all of them professing undying love and
devotion, some harmless, some disturbing, but she let the lust conveyed to her through the written word to wash over her and pass away
without a seconds thought. But this message was different, this message hadn't come from her blog or website, the sender hadn't used any of
her public contacts. He had used a private email, one that she used strictly for family, close friends and the official side of her work. No
fan should ever have access, it was her most jealously guarded secret.

“So what do I do?” she questioned quietly, the urge to shower forgotten, she was faced with an invasion of privacy. “Change password, first
job.” she said, although the action would be simply precautionary, he didn't appear to have accessed her account. Better safe than sorry,
she nodded as small asterisks appeared in the password box, confirm the old before entering the new.

Knowing that she had secured access to her private account she should have felt more relaxed, but the main question demanded an answer.
How?

How had her private email become public? Or who had revealed?

No-one that I can think of, she stared at the message, the address, a capitalised C followed by a string of what looked to be random
numbers, and hosted by a leading free provider. No clues there! So what else can I do?

“Terry might be able to help.” she decided as the IT genius that managed her web site and blog sprung to mind, if anyone in her circle would
be able to offer any explanation, for sure it would be Terry.

“And the message... what do I do? Reply, delete, send to spam?” Becky scanned the words again, maybe a second reading would reveal some
clue, he made reference to her eyes, lips, smile, she searched memory for any conversation that she may have had, anyone who had made
similar comments. “All of them.” she sighed, and with a feeling of resignation she closed the browser, but not before forwarding the message
to Terry, along with her questions. “But I'll have to curb my curiosity for a while.” she stated, Terry lived half a world away, and she
would have to wait for half a day before she could expect any reply.


Excerpt..

“Another day – another dollar.” she sighed. It had been an easy day, and for that she was grateful. Fortunately the hangover had moved from

centre stage and taken a less obtrusive seat somewhere at the back, but she knew it was still there, reminding her that all levels of fun

had their inevitable consequences. The night before had been all kinds of fun, but as she had logged into her account earlier that day she

had regretted,


“I knew it would happen... but I still did it!” Hindsight was a wonderful thing she decided, but not much use when nausea raged and her head

alternated between spinning and banging, and what made it all worse, in her job she had to smile, the customers watched her every movement

and expression, she couldn't afford to be off her game, not even for one day.


But she had got away with it, she had earned her money, regular customers had left feeling satisfied, she had even managed to pick up a few

new ones, and a couple of them looked quite promising, there were always a one or two, the men who went the extra mile, tipping well,

frequent requests, daily income. These she nurtured, to these customers her smile was always slightly more genuine, her efforts more

enthusiastic. “Maybe the Craig guy?” she wondered as she logged out of her account and opened her emails, “He looks very promising!” his tip

had surprised her, which was a surprise in itself, the fact that her jaded mind could register genuine surprise. “Fifty quid... as a tip.

Pretty impressive.” She liked tips the best, those perks she kept without any platform deductions.


“Let me just check before I turn off the computer,” she said as he email account opened, the message that she was hoping for sat in her

inbox and she smiled, it was the end of the month, the period where electronic transfers were made, the wonderful time when all of her hard,

and degrading work paid off.


Earnings Breakdown for May, the message read, attached would be an excel spreadsheet listing her activities during the previous month, times

logged in, times logged out, earnings per day, per week, tips... everything. She never bothered with the spreadsheet, she was only

interested in the figures at the bottom of the message.


**


Total earned, after deductions, for performer Kandie Kaine.


**


“It was a good month,” she gave a genuine smile, the figure was more than she had anticipated, “All that, just for flashing my tits and

pussy on webcam!” She didn't like her current profession, but she had to admit... it beat the hell out of working.


***


“Now for a shower!”


Her fingers were slippery with baby oil despite the number of times that she had wiped them on a dry towel... her whole body was slippery

under the light robe that she always wore, it hid the goods until payment had been received, after that, it could be shed instantly for

those men who insisted on action from the first second, the type that ensured that they got their hardcore money's worth, every second

filled to the erotic max, or it could also tease, she was skilled when it came to prolonging the removal of just one garment, for those

clients who appreciated a little more art to their porn!


Kandie, aka Becky Caine, suffered under no delusions. While many other performers in her industry justified themselves claiming that what

they did was performance art, Becky would laugh, “I give remote relief, what I do is interactive porn, nothing more, nothing less. They get

to direct the action, I will say, do and show what they want... I love you John, Jeff, Jack, Josh. That's it, fuck me Dave, Doug, Don, what

a beautiful cock, stroke it for me Colin, Craig, Charlie! If they pay, I will feed the fantasy, someone has to do it... and it's not like I

will ever meet any of these guys!”


Always pragmatic, she understood that her window of opportunity was not infinite, she had made her début performance over three years before

at the age of twenty four, in that time she had built a devoted following, regular customers who if she couldn't actually class as friends,

they were at the very least close acquaintances. But the realist in her understood that if she had another couple of good years, that would

be as much as she could hope for, thirty years appeared to be a barrier, inescapable, and because of regulations, she couldn't lie about her

age, even if she did still look twenty one. As she reached the end of her twenties she expected to start losing her regulars, they would

find fresher girls, younger girls... she would be relegated from the A-League, and she didn't relish stepping down.


So Becky worked hard, and saved hard, she had built a decent buffer against the time when her boobs would lose their natural elasticity,

they had started to slip, that much she already knew, but provided the clients didn't comment she knew that it was probably more paranoia

than a physical, noticeable fact.


“They should be firm still,” she chuckled, “I massage them for three to four hours every day! And silicon is silicon, regardless of age.”
/>

Quickly she scanned through the rest of the messages sitting in her inbox, “Mostly junk,” she commented as she ran down the long list

clicking check-boxes, preparing to delete, a message from her brother stood out, “One to read later,” she decided, Alan had missed his

calling in life she often thought, his messages averaged out somewhere close to epic novel length, she never opened them until she knew that

time would not be an issue. Becky continued down the list, clicking as she went, but suddenly paused.


Hi Becky. The title implied familiarity, the senders email address however was anything but familiar.


“Strange,” she whispered as she clicked to open, “Probably just someone that I know with a new email, probably letting me know that they

changed!”


The message opened, and Becky began to read.


**


Dear Becky.


Sorry for approaching you directly like this, but I felt it important to contact you. I have watched your cam show so many times, I never

tire of your beautiful smile, your sparkling blue eyes, such kissable lips, and of course, the rest of you. Oh my Becky, I could be so crude

now, but crudity would only cheapen what I feel for you, but rest assured, there is not one part of you that does not surpass absolute

perfection in my eyes. You are a goddess, my goddess, I worship you.


I hope that you will reply, but if not, know that I will be watching you still, my love will endure.


Your biggest fan . C


**


C? Becky scanned through her mental contact book, he is obviously a customer, because he has watched me...


C? She questioned again. She had lots of regulars connected to the letter C, several Charles', Charlie's or Chucks, a Colin, a Clive, two

Craig's... even a Caspar, who always pushed the image of the cartoon ghost into her mind when he messaged her. And there are others, she

admitted, those that she had recalled were just the tip of the iceberg, and there is nothing to say that he is a current customer, he could

be from any time in the last three years!


The simple email shouldn't have bothered or concerned, after all, she received dozens every week, all of them professing undying love and

devotion, some harmless, some disturbing, but she let the lust conveyed to her through the written word to wash over her and pass away

without a seconds thought. But this message was different, this message hadn't come from her blog or website, the sender hadn't used any of

her public contacts. He had used a private email, one that she used strictly for family, close friends and the official side of her work. No

fan should ever have access, it was her most jealously guarded secret.


“So what do I do?” she questioned quietly, the urge to shower forgotten, she was faced with an invasion of privacy. “Change password, first

job.” she said, although the action would be simply precautionary, he didn't appear to have accessed her account. Better safe than sorry,

she nodded as small asterisks appeared in the password box, confirm the old before entering the new.


Knowing that she had secured access to her private account she should have felt more relaxed, but the main question demanded an answer.

How?


How had her private email become public? Or who had revealed?


No-one that I can think of, she stared at the message, the address, a capitalised C followed by a string of what looked to be random

numbers, and hosted by a leading free provider. No clues there! So what else can I do?


“Terry might be able to help.” she decided as the IT genius that managed her web site and blog sprung to mind, if anyone in her circle would

be able to offer any explanation, for sure it would be Terry.


“And the message... what do I do? Reply, delete, send to spam?” Becky scanned the words again, maybe a second reading would reveal some

clue, he made reference to her eyes, lips, smile, she searched memory for any conversation that she may have had, anyone who had made

similar comments. “All of them.” she sighed, and with a feeling of resignation she closed the browser, but not before forwarding the message

to Terry, along with her questions. “But I'll have to curb my curiosity for a while.” she stated, Terry lived half a world away, and she

would have to wait for half a day before she could expect any reply.


Keywords - click on word to search for more titles

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Best Selling Books This Year By Beth Kean

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Best Selling Books This Year By Beth Kean

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Author Information

Beth Kean began writing in 2014 and concentrates mostly in the Romance genre writing short stories about ordinary people, she enjoys writing interracial romance with strong black women finding understanding white men. Beth also ventures into the spicier side of the romance genre including a few erotic short stories.

 


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 Exclusive Authors

 Publishers and Independent Authors   

Affiliate Program

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Terms and Conditions

Privacy Policy

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This Site Owned By Fiction4Adults - Copyright Ó 2015