Chapter 12

Edward Pembroke returned from helping to shower his mother. The grim task was completed and he was minded to go out tonight to celebrate and get his mother’s body out of his mind. He checked on the progress with Angela. He saw that some of her friends had responded to messages sent to them saying “Fuck off you psychopaths. Leave her alone” and “Angela is a hundred times the human being you scumbags will ever be, we will not let this destroy her!”

But he also saw that her presence was multiplying across porn platforms. One video came up on “popular” on pornhub without him even looking for it. And all these videos could easily be downloaded and saved. He counted dozens and dozens of links, many containing her name. He also saw some Pinkmeth comments including one from an industrious Pinkmeth contributor who posted some screenshots of messages being sent to various Spanish people, a message to her school expressing disgust that a prostitute was working there, and a message to the UN education department warning them that Angela Candelema was a porn star who could not be trusted.

Pembroke started masturbating again. He knew that he had ruined someone’s life and that this was, objectively, a terrible thing. But the hormones and endorphins and the feeling of his hard cock overrode and eliminated all other thought processes other than the enjoyment of her debasement. He eventually came, and immediately felt guilty. More to the point, he started to worry again that he might be traced. Perhaps someone could remove the blob over his face in the videos? He had double checked this on voyeur forums and from reading tech documentation and could only be 99% sure he was in the clear.

He checked the Facebook profile of Angela, and realised it was hidden. The same with her LinkedIn. And her twitter account. He sighed, part of him felt happy that he had done his work well and that she was now well and truly impacted, but realised he would never be able to follow her online again.

He had his own fake social media profiles and followed some of her closest friends and saw that she was not visible through them either. He saw one update from a young woman who posted that “my friend has had a horrible experience with intimate photos and videos being spread. Please think of her and her family and delete these and do not share them, she is suffering.”

Pembroke went out that night, and booked another prostitute. The type of glasses he wore were never becoming more famous and so he could not longer use them to record prostitutes, and in the absence of having time to place hidden cameras, he satisfied himself with straight, unrecorded sex with a pleasant young Filipina lady called Nadia. As he massaged her, he tried to remember Angela and the feeling of her body. He returned home, and took out her used red panties and sniffed them again. He kept them in an airtight lunchbox under his bed to maintain the smell of her pussy as long as possible. He then treated himself to an extended hours long cut of the footage of Angela making love to him, this private version being without his face being cut out.

Periodically he checked Pinkmeth. Angela was a huge hit. Girls with bright futures were always popular and numerous commenters boasted of how many people they had emailed and how much they had uploaded her videos and photos. He smiled as he opened up a French porn website, and under “le plus populaire du jour” he was pleased to see Angela’s video had appeared. She was becoming world famous! Though entirely not how she would have hoped as recently as twenty four hours ago.