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Amanda’s eyes searched hers, as if looking for any sign of what had happened. One had a juice box. She felt violated, used, and she wanted to scream. Sommer has been dreading this moment ever since receiving another email from the unknown blackmailer. The girls had done what no one expected—they’d chosen their nerds. “Imagine my wet pussy, waiting for you.”

Sommer’s hand moved quicker, her breaths becoming shallower. “Sorry, I had to curate a look,” she said breezily. Kassie didn’t even watch them go. The camera was cold, unforgiving, capturing every sound and movement. “Imagine my hands on your cock, my slutty little mouth wrapped around it.”

With a sultry smile, Sommer began to play with her nipples, rolling them between her thumb and forefinger. “Thanks,” he mumbled, trying to focus on the numbers in front of him rather than the soft swell of her breasts.