CHAPTER 1
DAKOTA
Iread the message as it pops up on the screen. Dan_The_Man_28 has sent ten dollars along with a message.
Dan_The_Man_28: Dakota, I don’t want to seem weird, but would you consider sitting on my face?
I roll my eyes and shake my head slowly, giving myself time to think of a response.
This comes with the territory of being agamer girl—basically, any woman online who dares to even look at a video game—and especially a streamer. A big part of my success is how I handle the creeps in my audience.
One option?
Ban the creep outright. Bye-bye, pervert, have fun in the land of the ignored and the restricted. Or I can let him watch, but limit his ability to send messages. But then that makes me think of some weirdo in a dark alleyway somewhere, watching, leering.
“Okay, I’ve considered it,” I say, tapping my chin.
In the bottom left corner of the screen, as an overlay so that I can still see Empire’s Fall’s inventory menu, the stream chat is going nuts. I’ve cultivated a respectful audience… mostly.
A lot of them are posting gravestone emojis, meaning … this guy is getting bannedfast. Others are defending me, my usual viewers. One writes:
BellaNova_78: Bro, relax. She’s wearing a hoodie and talking about gearing up for a raid. This isn’t a porn site.
“The proper answer would involve me violently puking into a bucket,” I say, voice cold, but I quickly turn my voice bright again. “But we’ll settle for a simpleno, okay, sweetie? Thanks for the donation, but you’re getting the ban guillotine if you send something like that again.”
In the private chat bar above the main chat—a tab only I can see—Mara, my best friend, messages me.
Mara_Bells: Nicely handled.
I grin, my gaze flitting to the photo stuck to the corner of my computer screen. Noah, grinning, beaming, egging me on, with one arm wrapped around me and another around Mara.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the control this gave me. To put it arrogantly—I’m the queen of my stream. Sure, I might wear sexy outfits sometimes, low-cut tops, booty shorts now and then. But that’s becauseIwant to. I enjoy the chaos it creates in my audience. The attention, always safely behind the screen.
Go to hell, Dad.
Mostly, though, I focus on the game. One game. Empire’s Fall.
Another paid message flashes on the screen.
RyderRyder: Dakky, have you farmed all the crests at Emerald Cove yet?
I shake my head. “I’m avoiding that place like the plague,” I say, navigating my character across an icy tundra on the back of my trusty mount, a bear called Paw. “The grind is grinding my brain cells into powder and blowing them away on the wind, chat, I swear. It’s driving me crazy.”
The chat fills up.
RogueStar: LOL.
Johnwhiteassnow: You’ve got a way with words.
GhostTalker: Dakky is ON one.
The hardest part about streaming is beingonall the time, actually, but not in the way this viewer means. He’s British, I know from past messages, andon onemeans I’m in a mood. I’ve got five thousand people currently watching, but I’ve put the effort into learning a little about my regulars. Enough to create a genuine rapport.
After two hours of dungeons, I decide it’s time for this stream’s viral moment. Before I started playing Empire on stream, I never thought of myself as sexy. Not ugly, either. My self-image was always just sort of… there. And although therearecreeps online, I’ve got to be honest. Sometimes, it helps being a woman with a thick ass and more than a few viewers who would kill to go on a date with me.
Is it fair to call them simps? Am I taking advantage? Or am I just playing the game, like every other streamer on this site?
“Okay, guys, just need to head out for a few minutes,” I tell them. “Try not to go insane with boredom.”