If irony could be described as 'delicious' then this whole business had become a mouthwatering banquet. Though this burger ain't bad either!
Mac stuffed the last of his triple-decker into his mouth and wiped the debris from his whiskers. It was Day 3 and much to his satisfaction, he had managed to turn a disaster into something that was probably more fun than 'Plan A' and certainly more lucrative. The screen showed that the new site had already made a couple thousand bucks, but that weren't the point. He could have charged a lot more, but the money was just a happy by-product; compensation for his earlier disappointment.
The little cunt should never have pissed him off, should she?
He glanced over at the girl. She was still asleep, naked and curled into a tight ball with her legs pulled up close. Fuck - she was sucking her thumb! So cute. He fired off some snaps with the digital camera.
He checked his watch. There was another hour until the next session. He looked at the latest messages: it was amazing how quickly his audience had grown. God Bless the Internet! And some really dirty requests were coming through. The inventiveness of Man impressed him, or rather the mind-boggling cess-pit of ideas thrown up by the sort of guy who uses the Web to perv young girls.
Mac closed his eyes and eased back in his chair. As an IT worker, he was used to keeping strange hours, long hours, with deadlines. A few minutes' cat-nap should help. Enjoying the lingering flavor of the burger, he reflected on the events that had gotten him thus far. His hand slipped down inside his jeans. Just in case.
Bunch of freakin' idiots, them people who ran that website. They'd made it so easy.
No match for him.
Mac was a freelance developer and had been working for a client who was tapping into that huge but elusive online market - the tweenies. They had to be inventive. Kids that age don't have credit cards for sure, but they have parents who do and the first trick was to create the demand, make the brats want something enough to pester their folks into parting with their cash.
But the social media market had become saturated with too many sites offering the same bland crap and users, even young ones, were becoming wise to many of the less subtle ploys to make them buy virtual shit in order to play games and the like. So niche sites had begun to develop, supposedly safer, and targeted much more directly at online pre-teens. And 'StarDust.com' was becoming a major player.
It was aimed at girls, 7 to 14, and was sufficiently different to gain rapid popularity with that notoriously fickle audience. Free to join and largely cost-free to play, it allowed its members to create their own online persona as a budding celebrity. That was a lot more fun than dressing up some dumb cartoon avatar and you didn't have to keep buying loads of credits! Girls could create a detailed 'backstory' and assign themselves talents as a singer, actress, musician or dancer, and there were a range of online challenges and activities that would let them develop a 'career' and achieve celebrity. Cleverly utilising real photos the girls uploaded, their online character could be featured in lookalike magazines or chat shows and they could even select mild system-generated 'gossip' to pad out their image. And instead of dull old blogging, each user was encouraged to keep a private 'diary' for their persona, in which they could record their feelings and aspirations. An ingenious use of templates and multiple choice forms supplemented the text boxes, so that it was all very easy to use, without being seen as a chore, like school homework. StarDust was undoubtedly innovative in many ways, offering free download of lyrics and moves for girls to practise at home then post home-made recordings and videos of their dances or singing; StarDust would automatically add a few seconds of glitzy title and turn these into pretend perfomances into 'clips' as if from TV talent shows.
The appeal of the site was obvious. Users could even chose to make some of their content public, to share with 'fans' (parents or friends who were not members) or each other and the number of 'likes' for these clips and images became the subject of playground rivalry. Adults were not allowed to join the site itself and so parents were reassured that their daughters had protection from internet predators. And the clever business model was that in verifying their offspring's membership, parents were expected to deposit only a negligible 'trust fund' of a just a few real dollars, which their daughters could then 'spend' on items to promote their character's career and increase their 'Star Rating'. StarDust offered peace of mind at neglible cost.
It was deliberately cheap to use because the real money was made behind the scenes: that was the second trick to it all and potentially far more profitable. By monitoring user activity and data, StarDust could then cross-refer it to "big data" about the girls' parents, thanks to that initial small card purchase. The combined information was very valuable to businesses such as Mac's client, which bought access to the programming interface for StarDust, and hired him to tap into this stream of quality consumer data.
Boring. But it was work, and Mac needed it.
Man, and it was like, soooooo easy, but he charged plenty and gave them what they wanted and still had a lot of paid time left over. It did not take him long to hack the site itself. StarDust was secure but he was better.
He was always better. He had a natural talent but it was just that everybody else was jealous - that's why they didn't want to know him or invite him to parties and stuff. They couldn't stand it that he was better than them.
Yeah, losers, well maybe I don't really want to go to your lousy parties anyway!
At first it was just for the buzz but the deeper he mined StarDust's servers, the more he was hooked. Credit card details, addresses (both postal and email), yes they were there, the usual stuff, but fraud would be boring and too easy. Much more fascinating was the shit the girls wrote about themselves. He had access to their secret world. He scoured their private pages, where with the innocence of the young, they revealed far more about themselves than would most adults. StarDust boasted of its exclusivity and to be fair, was unusually vigilant at weeding out the pervs and creeps, and so perhaps there was an extra sense of trust that encouraged them to post so much personal information.
Safe behind a rotating chain of random proxies around the globe, Mac spent night after night, leafing electronically through private profiles, photos and pages of total shit. It was a revelation. When he was of school age, the best part of twenty years earlier, he had negligible contact with girls. And now he knew he had not missed much after all - jeez, they talk a load of crap about nothing. They just bitched a load as well.
But he was increasingly curious. If he read between the lines, he could sort-of profile them, like on them TV cop shows.
He would find a page where the girl had put something that interested him and then see if he could tie it up to her real-world address (thanks to Mom and Dad's credit card), then he would trawl the Net for more. Maybe she had pages or pictures on other sites too, easy enough to make the links if they filled in all the fields about school and clubs and stuff, and he could check them out too. Sometimes there was more he could find out about their family. So much to find on the internet, if you know where to look. He even hacked some school systems too, for the Hell of it. As he learned more about a girl and her background, he felt himself getting closer to her (but she had no idea!) and if she had good photos, like being on the beach or at a pool party, he could keep himself occupied under the desk as well, imagining her fully naked, and jerking off into a kleenex.
Drawn ever-further through his secret gateway, he ventured beyond cyberspace and into the real world, and experienced the thrill of matching a girl's profile picture to the real thing, finding their homes and following them home from school.
Man, it was awesome - he could get right inside their heads. And get, like, only feet away if he wanted. Watch them right up close. Watch them and strip them in his mind's eye.
And it was not long before he came to the conclusion that if he could get inside their heads, maybe he could get inside their panties too.
All he had to do was find the right one. Do a proper profiling job! And if he had the data, then that should not be a problem. Because he was damn good!
Ever logical, he drew up a list of pluses and minuses to rate his targets. Plus was one who slated off her parents or who confided to her diary that she had no friends: he knew how that felt so she would understand better and she would be so happy to have a boyfriend to be great with her. Minus was claiming to have a boyfriend already - it was important that she had not been with a boy before so then he could teach her how to be his girlfriend and she wouldn't, sort-of, try to compare him. Another plus was living no more than maybe one or two hours drive from Mac; that was a no-brainer, but being from the next State was a double plus, as a lot of data sharing by the authorities stopped at the State Line, and what he planned was not going to be legal. Minus was being good at spelling or being too good at any of the singing or dancing, or having lots of StarDust dollars, because that meant they were spoilt brats and he didn't want a whiney smartass girlfriend who was used to getting her way, did he?.
Mac devised algorithms and burrowed into StarDust's vast databases. Make the computer do the work! Promising profiles which they threw up were duly investigated and the best of these followed up by field reconnaisance. This was way better than any dumb online game or TV series. It was like his own game - "Mac's World of Girlcraft"!
It had taken most of a whole month but the effort was worth it. Mac had found his perfect girlfriend at last. Soon as he saw her slouching along the street, he became sure. On her own and talking to herself, unaware of anything around her, and certainly oblivious to the guy behind the dumpster stroking his fat cock as she passed by on the other side of the street.
Rachel Bridget Dulmen, aka Rachette2001. Her photos were stuck on his wall and he was in love. The one of her blowing out the candles on her eleventh birthday in the Spring was his favourite. He had cropped her face and blown it up life size and kissed it each night. He called her Rachie and imagined the conversations they would have and the hugs she would give him. He had read everything she wrote and did a zillion times over and long before he bundled her into his Daewoo, he knew her almost as well as her useless Mom, knew the things she liked, her favorite shows and the bands she listened to. Rachie had all the right pluses, and was accessible, living in a backwoods town with an inattentive single parent who had a sheet for DUI and a poor credit rating. Rachie walked the same route each day. Alone. She was by her own admission shy and apparently some of the kids in her Grade at school called her names and that made her even think about running away, she had confided to her StarDust diary.
Mac was convinced that lonely and vulnerable little Rachie was going to be so happy when he became her proper boyfriend and looked after her like a princess.
He had called out her name and she had walked up to the car, puzzled because she didn't think she knew the fat guy with the goatee beard who was driving. But the man was way too strong and she tried to scream but he already had her tied and gagged and it was too late. He had rifled through her bag and ripped the battery from her cellphone before covering her with a blanket.
Later, carrying her carefully through the rear door of the rundown foursquare he had lived in from a child, and taken her up the stairs to their room, he had murmured gentle reassurances to the shaking bundle in his arms. Before he released her, he had put her favorite singer on the mp3 player and smoothed out the new clothes laid out beside her on the bed.
"OK, now I'm gonna let you see our very own room, Rachie," he gushed. "Wow, I hope you like what I got you. All the stuff you like."
She sat bolt upright, eyes popping, as he unfastened the duct tape around her arms and legs. He reached to untie the gag, pointing out the pair of brand new trainers beside the bed.
"One sec, Rachie, then we're done. I had to take a guess at the size but we can change them at the store if I got it wrong. But they're just what you said you wanted - All Star Hi in purple! Cool eh?"
She waited until he had removed the tape and had finished releasing the scarf that he had used over her mouth.
"Oh my God, you're gonna love what I got us to eat later - fish sticks, Coke Zero and Ben & Jerry's choc nougat flavor. The stuff you really like. Awesome, right?"
But she was already on her feet and tugging frantically at the locked door.
"Hey, what ya doing, Rachie?"
"Don't you come near me, freak," she croaked in terror, and hammered at the door. "Let me go!!"
So it had not gone according to plan. The memory made Mac pissed all over. Scowling, he woke from his reverie.
So much for a nice snooze.
Mac cleared the annoyance from his mind and took another look at the messages. 'Jeez, that last guy needs help, for fuck's sake!' he chuckled to himself. 'Don't think that would fit inside an eleven-year-old pussy, my friend!'
Once again he shut his eyelids. Let's try again. He still had forty minutes. He recalled how it had started to go wrong, but that was OK, because he made it right now, didn't he? His hand slipped deeper beneath the waistband of his boxers, anticipating the imminent recollection of how he had tamed the bitch.
Man, she had been a royal pain in the ass at first.
Throwing stuff across the room at him, yelling and banging on the window pane. She didn't even try to listen.
So he had no choice; he had to tape her up again and put the scarf round her mouth and put her in the basement where nobody could hear her. Half the night he was down there, explaining how much he loved her, and telling her all the things they were going to do together, like the vacation to Florida and maybe next year go see Europe. But she kept on yelling into the scarf and crawling away from him.
Twice, when he allowed her to use the bathroom, she refused to come back out and he had to open the door and drag her back.
But it was the marshmallow cereal which made him lose it big time. Mac hated marshmallow but he had even gotten it in specially, as she had listed the cereal near the top of her StarDust 'Faves List'. He prepared a nice breakfast for her, even put a little flower in a vase on the table. Rachie refused to eat, folding her arms across her chest and saying nothing. When he tried to put his arm around her, she screamed, "Get your hands off me, you perv!" and the bowl of cereals ended up smashed and scattered across the floor.
And that was the moment when even Mac had to admit it. SNAFU.
Rachie wasn't special after all, despite all that freaking hard work trying to find his perfect girl - she was just like every other bitch he had met: cold, rude and selfish, pushing him away even when he tried to be all polite and nice to them.
So Mac had lifted her bodily and carried her upstairs to the empty spare room. Where she would have to learn some manners.
No more sweet talk now, she had had her chance. Even that skank downtown hooker he went to at the end of every month used to pretend to like him, but he knew she didn't really. But Rachie didn't even do that - not even, like, pretend. She was just another bitch. All girls were bitches.
It hurt him to admit it. Fuck, it hurt!
She did not see him wipe the tear from the corner of his eye, for as he set her down, his sudden slap across her jaw contained enough angry frustration to send her flying across the floor.
"Shut up, Rachie," Mac snarled, "I'm sick of trying to be nice to you."
The shock of his unexpected smack, let alone the swiftly hot throbbing in her cheek, was enough to silence her for a few moments, then the real fear took over. The horror of being held prisoner by this creep was no longer abstract - she realised that she was in physical danger. Putting a hand to her face, she instinctively attempted to cower away from him but he had her upper arms held tight in his big paws and he pushed her hard against a wall and bent over and pressed his fat face on to hers. She felt his warm, hard lips press over hers and the prickling of his beard and when his big belly crushed her chest, she had no alternative but to keep still as his slobbered over her mouth. She defied his probing tongue until his fingers gripped her chin so hard that the pain was too much to resist.
God, it was so totally gross, being groped by him!
The big man stood back for a moment.
"I did everything to make it perfect; I got all your favorite stuff and we was gonna do all them things you dreamed of. But you just hate me. You'd make a lousy girlfriend anyways," he whined, "you can't even kiss properly."
Mac's brain was racing. No way was he going to be satisfied with just an unreciprocated kiss. No way at all. Rachie had to pay for her shittiness. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her into the next room, which he used as his office-cum-den. He had to show her. Make her see all he had done for her already and then if she still wanted to act the bitch, well, that was her problem.
This time when he growled 'Stand there', she obeyed. Her cheek was smarting.
Mac pulled up her StarDust profile and stabbed his finger at the monitor.
"See that? Who do you think gave you three hundred 'Likes' on your dance vid, eh, to get you up to two Stars? Who put that mystery fifty StarDollars in your account, so you could take them virtual riding lessons with Justin Freakin' Bieber?"
Rachel's mouth eyes widened and she had a sick feeling in her stomach, as she recognised her page and realised that could see everything about her, even her most private stuff.
"Know how much all them new clothes and trainers cost, Rachie, how much I spent on you and you didn't even say one thank you? $370, that's how much."
He spun his chair around and his strong fingers once more closed around her wrists.
"You're as bad as the rest of them, so we're gonna show the world what a cold, ungrateful bitch you are. Let's get some pics uploaded showing the real you. Sit down there!"
He practically threw her into the leather chair. Leaning across the desk, he hammered the keyboard. Man, was Mac pissed! The LED in the webcam above his monitor glowed green and a window appeared on his screen, filled with the image of a very pale and frightened young girl, with tousled fair hair and silent tears trickling down her pink cheeks. Mac used the mouse to take a snapshot.
"Again! Look at the fucking camera!"
The simulated shutter sound clacked from the speakers flanking the screen.
"Good, now let's update your profile page."
It took a painful twenty minutes. Mac hovered over her as she typed in the words he dictated, slapping the back of her head when she made a mistake or paused to cry. Of course he could have done it himself in moments, but it was so much more exciting that she did it all herself. Under his supervision, she uploaded the webcam pictures, and he took more as her face became yet more tearful. Rachette2001 transformed her online profile from an innocent, 11 year old who was immersed in StarDust's fantasy world into a self-professed, hateful and potty-mouthed slut. He ensured all her new material was set for unrestricted public viewing before she logged off.
Mac snorted with satisfaction. But that was just the start. From the desk drawer, he fished out his compact digital camera. Tipping her from the chair, he hissed, "That was just the start, Rachie. Get up, bitch, we're gonna make a new album for your page."
He brought the mp3 player into the spare room and played her favourite singer again. He ordered her to 'do her dance' - Rachel's StarDust video had been an endearing if stilted pastiche of the singer's most famous stage routine. A slight, threatening movement in her direction had the small girl on her feet and going through the moves.
"Now strip," ordered Mac, firing off some more shots in the compact camera.
Face set in total misery, the small girl paused to pull off her grimy polo shirt and push her school shorts down her legs.
"Keep dancing, Rachie, all sexy like the little slut you really are."
She blinked against the repeated flashes from the camera. With just bra and pants left, she begged quietly to be allowed to stop, but Mac roared and strode over to her. Palming the camera, he grabbed the shoulder straps of her flimsy kiddy bra and wrenched them down her arms until the cups rolled down her flat chest, revealing her small, dark nipples. He took a step back and captured her white-faced anguish. Her threadbare panties were tight, stretching over her pubis and forming a tantalising groove as she danced.
"Get on with it, bitch, I want you naked."
Awkwardly, she eased out of the little bra, slipping her arms from the straps and tugging the twisted fabric around her body so that the clasp was at the front and easier to unfasten. Her panties joined it on the floor beside her and for a fleeting second, she tried to cover her crotch with her hands as she danced but a scared glance at Mac's apoplectic expression soon dissuaded her and she gyrated and flexed in shameful nudity. The player had long since moved on the the next track, so Mac queued up the dance number again.
"Now do it for me again, Rachie. All nice and sexy. Show me that sweet butt and push your cute little titties out. Come on!"
Trying so hard to avoid eye contact, the tiny girl resumed her stilted movements and the relentless series of camera flashes accompanied her to the end.
"Look at me, Rachie," taunted Mac,"and give a nice smile to the camera. Yeah. Look sexy. Like you want men to look at you and want you, don't ya? Yeah. You want men, so show yourself off. So long as it's not somebody who really loves you, eh, cunt? Too fucking dumb to recognise when someone really does love you. Keep moving! Lick your lips all slow. Come on - move them hips and show off your fanny! You want them to want to fuck you, like the slutty bitch you really are."
Mac was on his knees, getting close-ups of her smooth, young pussy and skinny ass. Ignoring the music, he snarled his instructions and she posed. Yeah, that was better. Now the bitch was doing what she was told. She lay on her back, legs spread, looking away, terrified and disgusted with herself as she pulled her labia apart for him, when he ordered. After all that disappointment and anger and frustration, he was finally having some fun with Rachie. OK, so she wasn't melting in his arms and nibbling sweetly at his lips like she was supposed to, but this was still good shit. His cock was bursting.
"Yeah, that's better, Rachie. Now put the end of your finger in there! OK, slut, how about you show me some appreciation?"
Her frightened eyes narrowed in disbelief as he opened his zipper.
He tried to keep hold of the camera but she was so fucking useless that he had to put it down and use his hands on her. To hold her head still until she opened her mouth properly and her hot little tongue was lapping his swollen bell-end. She had no idea how to do it at first but Mac's persistence paid off and after some firm slaps of encouragement on the sides of her head, Rachie at last began to hold her lips tight enough to make his cock feel good as he moved it slowly in and out of her mouth.
Now she was acting like a girlfriend should, making those muffled yum-yum sounds as he pushed deeper.
"Oh yeah, Rachie, that's real nice. Why couldn't you be all nice like that before, eh?"
The camera captured her new-found skill, not a great shot, but it showed her and more importantly, what she was doing. And then the growing sensations of pleasure and exciting sight of the young girl's face working up and down him proved too great and he held her tight as his balls pumped her mouth full of cum. Ignoring her reflex to pull away, clutching her head until the last tingling tightness had subsided and the final drops had oozed from him.
"Don't you dare spit it out!" he warned. "Open your mouth wide and show the world what you got on your tongue."
Gasping, Rachie posed as ordered, shocked by her ordeal and reeling from the unexpected volume of thick, sticky warmth that had filled her mouth. The camera flashed twice.
"OK now swallow it. All of it."
She gagged but Mac was looming over her and she glanced nervously at his huge palm, hovering above her head and she fought the nausea and gripped at her own throat and forced the contents of mouth down her throat.
"Good girl, Rachie. Show the camera..."
The photo recorded her mouth, the tongue no longer thickly coated in cum, but with residual strands still clinging to her lips and drooling from the corners of her mouth.
"Yeah, that's good. People are going to love seeing you: Rachette2001 - dirty little cumslut," sneered Mac and he pushed her over on to the mattress. "Don't you fucking move, I'll be back when I took a leak and put your new photos up."
Mac's snooze was once again interrupted - an alert from his calendar to remind him to start the remote server. Twenty minutes to go. But he had a smile on his lips this time. Yeah. That was a good memory.
He clattered at the keyboard. All set.
Just enough time to doze just a while longer and recall the fun after Rachie's new slutty persona had gone online. Awesome!
It had taken StarDust a full three hours before they took down her profile.
By then she had racked up several thousand hits and the chatrooms and BBS were buzzing, with links and breathless endorsements. All he had done was post a few anonymous messages and the grapevine had done the rest. She achieved instant fame. Her photo album had received dozens of comments, the number seemingly in proportion to the lewdness of her pose. The sticky aftermath of her first blowjob and the fingers in her pussy had in particular earned a huge amount of feedback and 'Likes'!
Rachie2001's 'Star Rating' easily hit the magic five long before she was removed.
Mac had been tempted to hack in and resurrect her StarDust pages. He had little doubt that he could engage in a pissing contest with site admins and perhaps force them to take the whole thing down, but he decided instead to set up something else. Seeing all those remarks about Rachie had more than compensated for the way she had treated him and planted the seeds of an idea.
And so all the time he was fucking her tight little pussy for the first time, he was plotting even greater revenge.
She had whimpered throughout, her tiny body pinned beneath him with legs splayed wide, his fat dick pounding into her hard and fast, once he had broken her in and added some more lube so it slid better. She had looked so pitiful, lying there, her body bouncing up and down on the mattress, face red and sweaty, her mouth and big green eyes frozen in horror when he roared with pleasure and shot his load right up her tiny cunt. Lord, that felt so good, filling her like that, making her his very own, whether she fucking wanted it or not!
He had bitten her ear lobe just for fun, enjoying the way her face crumpled into tears and afterwards had forced her to thank him out loud for fucking her. Made her say it three times, for good measure, and to ensure it was recorded on her 'promotional video'.
OK, so it weren't the consumation of a great romance like he had hoped, but she was a good little lay in any case, and he still looked forward to training her to do all the things he didn't dare ask of his monthly hooker. Like, amazingly dirty stuff!
She deserved to be used and humiliated. And having an audience was going to be real fun.
It had taken him a further 24 hours at the PC to have the new 'site' in place, and he tore himself from working at the computer every hour or two to go into the next room and rape her once more.
"Not got such a big mouth on ya now, have ya, Rachie?" he had gloated when he took her for the fourth or fifth time and she had finally learned to open her legs without having to be shouted at or slapped.
Awaking from his latest recollections, Mac was freshly inspired. Oh yes, it had turned out well, after all.
And it was almost time for Rachie's next internet performance. Her third, via the new secret site.
Technically-speaking, the broadcast would originate from an island in the Pacific, though the access for paying subscribers was by clicking an innocent-looking link buried in an obscure pottery-making blog page. From there, it actually went through many levels of electronic obfuscation before it displayed the stream from Mac's webcams.
For the cognoscenti, other live pedo shows could be found of course, but if the discerning user preferred to watch a blonde American 'girl-next-door' rather than some scared Cambodian street urchin, there was only one place to visit: 'Bad Girl Rachie'. Very young, endearingly amateur, but obviously very real, and the site promised full-on action. And this time, there were well over a hundred guys waiting to see her perform, all of whom had earlier quite safely and legitimately purchased an electronic picture of a sweet little kitten through a well-known online listings site.
And buried within that file, they had found their access code and address of the blog site.
Mac adjusted his balaclava in the mirror. It was a precaution.
He would have been the first to admit that he was an unlikely pornstar and but though it was unlikely that the stream would show anything above his chest, better not to risk showing his face. Besides, it was Rachie they wanted to see, and hear. And manipulate.
Just off-camera, in the little 'studio' he had put together in the spare room, he took control through his laptop and he signalled to her that she was now live and 'on air'.
She sat silently, nervously awaiting instructions. The wooden chair was hard and her bottom was still very tender, from the protracted spanking she had received during her last broadcast. And having that big hurty plastic thing in her ass when she did them 'exercises' a man had asked for.
This time, Mac had dressed her up in his take on a European schoolgirl's uniform, though she knew she would end up naked soon enough. She felt sick, thinking about the evil men who were watching on their computers. Mac had told her how it worked, and that there was no way anyone could trace it, so if she thought being online might in some way lead to her rescue, she should think again. He had scared her, big time. Nobody knew that she was locked away here. She knew she had to let him do that dirty sex stuff to her, the things the men asked to see. Not all of it, thank God: she had seen all them nasty, bad things the men had written last time and she prayed Mac would not actually take any notice of them, because some of that wasn't just totally disgusting, it would really, really hurt.
Mac zoomed the main cam in on her face, checking the result on the laptop. Nice. Cheeks good and rosy already. He panned over her body, pausing on the unmistakable shadow of nipple beneath her thin blouse and instructing her to uncross her legs and move her knees apart so that he could zoom in on the crotch of her tight little white panties, just visible under the plaid micro-kilt. He switched on the dialog bar and the lower half of the screen displayed the latest comments being keyed in by Rachie's admirers. He tapped in his own.
"Welcome one and all. Rachie has been a bad girl again. She got an 'F' on her report and needs to be punished. Post your ideas now, please. Watch her getting more and more nervous for a minute or two while I put the list up in the popup voting window, then I'll take the three that get the most 'Likes' and we'll get started..."
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