PietyPieces:…u sure of dis?
MaxWins: Yeah! It’s no biggie. Everyone does it.
PietyPieces: Maybe… lemme think abt it…
MaxWins: Sure, no pressure. You are worth the wait.
I hit the send button and stroke myself, watching her picture on the full screen. With fake eyelashes, blood-red lipstick, and boobs bigger than fresh oranges, the twelve-year-old is begging for attention. She’s ready, alright!
***
PietyPieces: Okayy! This weekend…
MaxWins: Fantastic. Can’t wait to meet you!
PietyPieces: Not gonna stay long. Max 1hr…
MaxWins: An hour with you is my forever. I’ll take even a few minutes.
PietyPieces: Lol, Soo cheesy! Gross…
MaxWins: Truth, sweetheart.
PietyPieces: Whatever! See ya later.
MaxWins: I’ll be there.
Stupid bitch. Always acting as if she’s doing me a bloody favor. Three days more. We’ll see who’s in control. I update the details in my special diary. So satisfying!
She’s my 58th item. My mates are freaking jealous, as I’ve been leading the charts for as long as I remember. Not my problem if they are too impatient and screw things up.
***
“You look so beautiful! My angel…” I murmur as we settle into the corner of the park.
She bats her lashes and giggles, taking a large sip of the drink I gave her. “Thank you for this gift.”
“Do you like it?”
“Love it. Didn’t think you’d remember.” She grins at the stone-studded bracelet glittering on her wrist.
I kiss her fingers and smile. “I remember everything about you.”
Indeed I do. My modus operandi is foolproof and hasn’t failed me. I count seconds as she slips out of consciousness. The car is nearby. Taking her to our hole is easy. No one bothers enough to give us another look. Anyway, everyone knows these princesses are nothing but whores. They’re just too afraid to say it aloud.
***
“Shut up, you bloody bitch, or I’ll slit your throat.” She whimpers and fights me off. I have to slap thrice before she cooperates. She’s stronger than I expected.
Fucking her is a pleasure, as it always is. Little sluts think they can wrap grown-up men around their fingers. What do they call those slobbers?
Ah,… sugar daddies. Useless wimps with too much money and not enough guts to tame these girls.
But look at us! We have been operating for years. Nobody can touch us. They wouldn’t dare with our power and connections (and, of course, blackmail).
“No, sweetheart. You stay right where you are.” I sneer when she tries to move and grab her tight.
“My turn, dude.”
It’s my buddy, ready with a bulge.
She sobs when I hand her over. Isn’t this what she wanted? For real men to lavish their attention on her. Why cry when she’s getting it in spades?
Ungrateful witches. All of them.
I walk back to my domain and power on the laptop. Time to finalize my next target. The one with a bikini DP, OnlineCandy, should do well. Eleven going on twenty.
Get ready, darling!
***
Glossary:
Modus Operandi: Often shortened to M.O., it is a Latin phrase implying someone’s habits of working, particularly in the context of business or criminal investigations, but also more generally. ~Wikipedia
DP: Display Picture (posted on social media/ social networking sites)
***
Author’s Notes:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Child_grooming#Over_the_Internet
[zombify_post]
