Chapter 12

That evening, Lucy lay sobbing on her front in her bed. Her pajama shorts, tight and short, and adorned with childish My Little Pony motifs—had ridden up high on her hips, the thin fabric stretched taut over the soft curves of her backside. The vest top had crept up her back, exposing the delicate dimples above her buttocks.

What was she supposed to do?

The abuse she’d endured over the past weeks had already pushed her to the edge, but this, this blackmail, was something else entirely. If that video got out, if those photos spread, everyone would see them. They’d save them. Share them. Her naked body, her pussy, her most private parts, would be forever tied to her name, an inescapable stain. No delete button. No second chances. Just eternal exposure.

God, it was dreadful.

Her mind raced, frantic and trapped. What did this creep want? She squeezed her eyes shut, but the images flashed behind her lids, herself on screen, fingers buried inside her, moaning, exposed.

Her phone buzzed. She reached for it, and read the message.

“Pick up the phone, I want to talk with you.”

The phone buzzed again, ringing. It was him.

Lucy curled up in a ball, praying it would all go away, but her phone kept buzzing, again and again and again.

Finally, she relented and answered, whispering... “hello.”

Ed Pembroke was half a mile away, at home, his mother asleep, his pants and trousers around his ankles, sitting at his computer screen, drinking a beer. His cock was semi erect in his hand.

“Lucy, why don’t you come online? Are you in your bedroom?”

“I can’t” Lucy pleaded. “It’s late, my mother is home...”

“It’s only eight o’clock you horny little minx.” Ed Pembroke delighted in the fear in her voice. “Guess what I have in my hand? Guess what I’m sniffing at the minute?” He made an ostentatious snorting sound, the soiled thong draped over his face as he spoke into the phone.

“That pussy of yours felt so nice today, so tight. Pity we were interrupted, I think we should go some place private next time.”

“Ed, you can’t do this, I don’t want to! It’s not legal, it’s not right, it’s not...”

Pervy Ed snapped back into focus. Years of experience taught him that he needed to tread carefully here. A strong willed girl with some confidence would get out of this situation quite easily, would go to the police, and he could go to prison. He reassured himself that Lucy was not that kind of girl. She was a natural victim, meek and weak, and that he could break her like he had broken so many others.

“Lucy,” he interrupted, his tone shifting to something colder, more deliberate, “I’m not the one with a sex video of myself out there. One click, and every single person you know, every friend, every teacher, every stranger, gets to see you. Forever.” He let the silence stretch, let her imagine it: the video spreading like a virus, her name synonymous with slut, with shame.