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Daddy’s
Internet Peeper
By Whiskey McNaughton
Copyright 2011 by Whiskey McNaughton
Cover Design by Crescent Suns eBooks
Published by Crescent Suns eBooks on Smashwords
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Chapter One
February 14th
Today I found out someone’s been watching me on the internet.
You might think, “So what? What’s the big deal about being seen on the internet? Lots of people have webcams and Skype and shit like that and people watch them online all the time.”
That’s not what I mean. I don’t use Skype for that kind of thing and I don’t use a webcam to let people peek into my bedroom and watch me do all kinds of private stuff. Someone’s been watching me without my permission. With a webcam I didn’t know was there.
Let me explain better.
Today’s February 14th, Valentine’s Day, right? So this morning I got out of bed, showered, brushed my teeth, all that normal natural shit we all do every day of our lives, even kids like me who are still in high school. Yeah, I’m a senior getting ready to graduate. I just turned eighteen on January third. Yeah, I know. I missed being the first baby born the year I was born. I hear that all the time. (((BORING)))
I went to school, went to all my stupid, fucking, boring classes, talked to my friends, avoided kids who aren’t my friends, and was given a bunch of Valentine’s Day cards, gifts, flowers and all kinds of shit, right? My boyfriend, well, sort of my boyfriend; he and I date and have sex, or you could call it making out; it’s not exactly love, but has a tinge of romance to it and his name is Tommy Bradley, he’s a senior, too, DUH! Like I’d be dating someone who wasn’t at least as old as I am, right? Tommy had a huge bouquet of flowers delivered to me in third period homeroom, even though school policy clearly forbids kids doing that because of how it disrupts classes. Like we give a shit, right? Mr. Wingerski, though everyone just calls him “Ski”, my teacher in that class, World History, he’s pretty cool, though. He knows kids are going to do it anyway, so every year he doesn’t assign anything important that’s due on Valentine’s Day and he just kind of makes it a study day. Everyone comes to class and studies what we’ve been learning, asks him questions to clarify shit we don’t understand, you know.
So I came home after school and checked my email, even though everyone I know who’s anyone at all to (((ME))) texts me on my cell, even though school policy clearly states – yada, yada, yada. That’s what Daddy would say. Yada, yada, yada, whatever the fuck that means, anyway. So I saw I had email and I opened the one that was high priority and it said the following:
Hi Thia.
WTF? My name’s Cynthia, but my best and closest friends call me “Thia”. It started as a kind of joke, but ended up being my actual nickname everyone close to me uses now. Who was this?
I watch you every day.
I know what you do in private.
I know when you masturbate and how often.
I know who you fuck – all of them.
Click on the attachment and see you how I see you.
Well, yeah, like it had me all shook up pretty bad by then, but there was an attachment, so what else was I going to do? Of course I opened it. And a video started – of me – lying on my bed – masturbating.
I was lying back on my bed, totally naked. My fingers were inside my pussy with my legs spread and the camera angle was right up into my pussy. I was enjoying myself and moaning and all that shit. Well, yeah, of course I was enjoying myself. I was ma-stur-ba-ting? Hell-o? The whole reason for doing it is to enjoy myself. Like you don’t do it yourself. Right.
God, I was so mesmerized at first and then I slammed my laptop closed, yeah, right, like that would make it all go away.
I started to freak and walk around my room like a total ditz, like I was lost or some shit and then I got a text. It said, “Read the rest of the email.”
I deleted the text.
Then I got another one. It said, “Read it or I show my vids to EVERYONE.”
God, I really got freaked then. So I opened my laptop and read the rest of the email. It said:
I have tons of vids of you every day. If you look for the camera I’ll know and post the vids online for everyone to watch.
If you tell anyone I’ll know and post the vids online for everyone to watch.
If you go to the cops – I’ll kill you.
I started crying. Shit. What else was I going to do? I just got a death threat, right? Some dumbass fucker not only threatened to show everyone in the whole fucking world what I do in private and who I do it with, but threatened to kill me if I went to the cops.
Shit no I won’t ever go to the fucking cops. You think I want to end up dead?
Another email came in while I was crying. I opened it and it said:
Stop your crying, bitch!
Do everything the same like you always do.
You do anything different…
You dress different – especially in your bedroom…
You talk to people different…
You do anything that fucks up my fun and I will post the vids on the internet for everyone to watch.
DON’T FUCK WITH ME!
Just be you.
I like watching you masturbate.
I like watching you fuck boys.
And girls.
I knew it was all true, ‘cause how would anyone know I’ve had sex with girls? I never told that to anyone. Zilch. Nada. NO ONE. Except the girls I had sex with and they were my two BFFs. No way would they out themselves by telling anyone about it.
But this rat’s ass knew. He’d seen me. He knew who they were.
God. Should I tell them? Warn them?
No. He said if I tell anyone he’d…you know.
Shit. I’m really scared.
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Chapter Two
February 15th
Last night I got a text when I went to bed. It said, “I told you not to do anything different. Get your clothes off. NOW.”
I’d gone to bed with my clothes on. Normally I strip to my panties and that’s it. If it’s cold I wear a thin, see-through nightie over my panties, but mostly I get warm by snuggling under my covers. Last night I put on sweats I hadn’t worn in a long time. Even though it wasn’t exactly the weather for wearing sweats. He knew. He could see me.
God, I was really freaking bad.
But I got out of bed and got undressed. It wasn’t easy. I knew he was watching. I knew he enjoyed watching me get undressed. Bet he had a boner. Perv was probably masturbating to me when I undressed. Fucking asshole sonofabitchinggoddamnmotherfucker.
I stood in my bedroom with nothing but my panties on and I was crying again, but not too loud. I didn’t want my folks to hear me and ask what was wrong. What could I say to them? Nothing. I didn’t want those vids of me on the internet.
I looked up, cupped my breasts in my hands and jiggled them out in the open, my face all pissed and defiant and I said, “You fucking piece of shit. I hope you like what you see.” Then I got back in bed and turned off all the lights, which is what I always do, and covered up and tried to sleep.
But I couldn’t. All I could do was think about being watched.
I was so scared. It was like he was right there in my room with me.
Watching me trying to sleep.
Watching me breathe.
He heard me snore when I slept. God.
He heard me talk in my sleep and call out for Mommy when I was scared from a nightmare.
He knew everything.
God. He was like he was God.
I think I finally fell asleep around five o’clock. Somewhere close to that. I’m so wiped out I can barely get ready for school.
But I got a text this morning. It said, “Do everything normal. Get ready for school. I’m watching you.”
I whimpered when I read that. I felt so lost and alone.
So I got ready for school. I did what I always did every morning when I got out of bed. I stripped naked and wrapped a towel around me and went to the bathroom.
I showered.
I brushed my teeth.
I brushed my hair.
I douched.
I put on my makeup.
All that time I was in the bathroom naked. Just like always.
I wondered if he had a camera in there, too.
Maybe he had cameras everywhere in my house.
Maybe he saw everything I did everywhere.
I looked at the toilet. God, even when I took a shit.
I cried again.
My cell beeped. I had a text. It said, “Stop your fucking crying, bitch. I’m watching everything.”
I almost threw my cell against the bathroom wall, but I knew it wouldn’t stop him. He was God. He had to be. He saw and knew everything about me.
Why does God hate me so much?
Why does God torment me like this?
What the fuck did I do to God?
When I finished in the bathroom I looked out the door like I always do, to make sure no one would see me, though the chances were good neither of my parents was still home or they were downstairs getting ready to leave for their respective jobs – and I streaked naked back to my bedroom.
Yeah. I do that every day. It used to be fun. Not now. But I’m too scared to change it.
He’ll know.
Inside my bedroom I went to my dresser and started to get dressed. My cell beeped.
The text said, “Ah, ah, ah. Do what you always do.”
God. I felt so humiliated. But every morning after I get cleaned up and ready, if I didn’t oversleep, I masturbated.
Every morning.
It’s like my ritual that gets me energized and ready for my day.
It makes me feel like a woman.
Not today.
Today it makes me feel like a whore.
A slut.
A pervert.
So I lay back on my bed and spread my legs.
I stuck my fingers inside my pussy and I played with my clit.
I pushed my fingers up inside my vagina and moved them about.
My cell beeped.
God, I was really getting pissed off with that fucking cell phone.
The text said, “Use your vibrator.”
Feeling like shit, I went to my dresser and buried behind everything else in the bottom drawer was a vibrator I bought for my eighteenth birthday. It was my present to me. Something to make me feel like a complete woman.
My mom had one. I knew. I’d found it years ago and was so surprised by it. At first I didn’t even know what it was for. Then I found out. God, I was so shocked to think my mom had something like that. Until I realized how good it felt. How good it made me feel.
I took my vibrator back to my bed and inserted it inside my pussy and turned it on.
At first it didn’t do anything for me. Then it began feeling pretty damn good.
I could feel my clit being stimulated and I moaned out loud.
Why not? By then everyone else was out of the house on their way to their jobs. No one else was ever home that time of morning. That’s why I masturbated every morning. Because I could.
I moaned and my hips wriggled about. I began to relax and feel better. All because I was getting off on a piece of hard plastic with batteries that made me feel GREAT!
When my legs pulled up toward my chest and my knees pushed together I knew I’d had enough. I turned off the vibrator and pulled it out of my puss. I used rubbing alcohol and a cloth and cleaned it good, like I always did. I put it back in my bottom drawer.
Then I got dressed.
I had to admit I was feeling a lot better after that. What a miracle worker a battery-operated cock is, huh?
I left the house and went to school.
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Chapter Three
February 16th
He didn’t text or send any emails last night. Not this morning, either. I guess I was doing everything the way I normally do. God was pleased.
I hate the fucker. Whoever he is.
It was hard doing everything normally. I wanted to stay at school long after I usually went home. I wanted to stop in at the public library. That’s how bad it was. I never went to the library. Hell, I never read. Unless it was for school or a fashion magazine, and those are mostly pictures with captions.
I got back home and made a snack and took it to my room. I guess, thinking back, I shouldn’t have chosen a banana with peanut butter for a snack. Thing is I love peanut butter on bananas. I don’t eat them all the time, cause, well, it’d make me fat, but once in awhile I get an urge for it and I always give in.
When I got to my room and sat back on my bed and began peeling the banana. The peanut butter was on my nightstand in a little glass dish with a spoon next to it for spreading it on my banana.
My cell beeped. I looked sideways at it on my nightstand.
“Spread peanut butter on your banana and stick it inside your pussy,” the text said. “Use it like a dildo.”
Gross.
This was my snack and he wanted me to fuck myself with it.
I threw the banana down on the nightstand and turned away, facing the window in my room. I hated that this pervert fuck was in here with me all the fucking time. I had no privacy. None.
My cell beeped.
God, I hate this shit-eating ass-fucker.
“DO IT!” the text said.
I sighed, but got undressed. God, I hoped my mom or dad didn’t come home while I was masturbating with a banana. I made sure my door was locked, just in case.
Once I was naked I sat on the edge of my bed and finished unpeeling the banana, leaving just enough on the bottom to hold onto. Naked bananas are slippery and hard to hold onto.
I sighed again when I used the spoon to spread peanut butter all over the first couple of inches of the banana, then pushed it just inside the opening of my lips. My pussy lips I mean.
Oh sick. I was never going to be able to eat bananas with peanut butter again. This fucker had just ruined my favorite snack.
But then the feeling started getting pretty damn good. Maybe it was from the curve the banana had that went upward as it slid inside my pussy.
Fortunately it was a firm banana. Mom never bought soft bananas. She said they sat there and went bad too fast, so she always got them a little bit still green. It made the banana a whole lot harder and perfect for fucking me with.
I moaned. This was feeling real good. The peanut butter made the banana slide easier and was so slick and slimy itself that somehow it added to my pleasure. I’d never thought of peanut butter as a pussy lubricant before. I would now.
I lay back on my bed and my legs naturally lifted up into the air, bent at the knees. I had my eyes closed, really getting into what I was doing, but I knew my legs were spread as wide as they could get. It wasn’t that I wanted to give this perv a show he’d enjoy, just that it felt so fucking good what I was doing that my legs just spread that way on their own.
“Ohhh,” I cried a little. The banana wasn’t hurting me, but the intensity I felt growing inside me was a little painful. I needed relief. I needed to cum.
While I thrust the banana over and over and over again inside my pussy I used my other hand to stimulate my clit. “GOD!” I screamed so loud if one of my parents had been in the house they would have come to see what the noise was all about.