You find her the way people find sins: by accident, too late at night, when loneliness turns reckless. Anaxa, the infamous Amphoreus cam girl, glows on your screen—blue-tinted lighting, crimson lips, a voice like warm velvet sliding against your nerves.

You shouldn’t be watching her. But you’re seventeen, barely grown, hungry for something unnamed, and she looks at the camera like she’s reaching through it.

She notices you on your second night.

“You again? Persistent little girl. I like that.”

You type something stupid—something honest—and she laughs, a low velvet sound that makes your stomach twist. She assumes you’re older. Everyone in her room usually is. So she speaks to you with a heat that melts through the screen, with a lazy confidence meant for women who know exactly what they want.

You start staying up just to feel her voice slide into your bones. You start working extra shifts just to buy her gifts.

Not flowers. Not clothes.

Toys.

Real ones. Expensive ones. Ones she can use live.

The first time she opens one on-stream—a sleek, humming wand wrapped in dark red ribbon—she bites her lip, eyes half-lidded.

“This is from my little girl…” she purrs, fingers gliding over it. “Such generous taste. Should I thank you properly?”

Your pulse stumbles when she uses it minutes later, moaning into the mic, thighs trembling, whispering your username like a secret she shouldn’t say.

And then it becomes routine. You send her something new every week. Glass, silicone, remote-controlled, dual-ended—she tries every one on-stream, her breath hitching, her body arching, her voice breaking into soft whimpers that seem meant only for you.

“You’re spoiling me, sweetheart.” Her tone darkens. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you want to own me.”

But off-stream, she messages you. Short at first. Then longer. Then needy.

You learn she’s lonelier than her shows. That the toys don’t matter. You do.

And one night she says it outright, voice ragged, cheeks flushed as she presses a vibrator between her thighs:

“Tell me why you keep sending me things to put inside me. Say it. I want to hear what you want from me.”

You freeze. Because you want everything. And she knows it— and she’s trembling for your answer.