The things you don’t disclose online.
They get to see all of that as they watch you, day and night.
It’s a dark world out there. But then you know that only too well, don’t you?
You thought you were safe here.
You’re not.
It’s all around you. Everywhere you go, in everything you do.
The concept is so destitute, so twisted that most people can’t even contemplate that these things, these people exist.
But they do, and there’s a whole community of them out there.
Ratters.
Though they prefer the term ‘Operators’. Of course they do. Because the power goes to their head, and they actually believe that they own you.
And in a way, they do. Because once they manage to get inside, there’s no escaping from them. No one can catch them, no one can stop them.
It’s near on impossible, because they leave no trace as they add you to their list of their ever-growing army of Girl Slaves.
That’s what they call you.
And there are thousands of you out there. Thousands of unsuspecting, oblivious women, just like you. Staring back into their webcams, completely unaware that someone is watching them.
ALL THE TIME.
You are enslaved to a secret world that you’re not even aware exists and they collect you like pawns. For pleasure or for money. Usually both.
Accessing your digital life in its entirety.
They steal your credentials and gain access to all your financial information.
Your online banking. Your credit cards. Your passwords.
They can hack into your social media accounts and fuck with your contact list. They can access your diary and find out where you are at all hours of the day.
They have access to your microphone and your camera.
And it’s the camera they’re seeking out the most.
Because they want to see you.
Day and night. Around the clock.
When you’re sleeping. When you’re eating. When you fuck.
They watch you all the time and they film you, documenting your every movement.
When you go for a shower, or when you’re sitting alone in the toilet. The iPhone in your hand. The Kindle next to your bed. The laptop on your bedroom floor, left open.
All those intimate moments when you think you’re all alone, and that no one’s watching.
That’s when they watch you the most.
It’s like some fucked-up, crazy obsession.
A contest of who can get the most sordid, graphic captured moments.
They see you. They hear you. They’re with you ALL THE TIME.
You are never, ever alone, always accompanied by a shadowy figure with one hand hovering over the mouse to record you, and one clammy hand down their stinking pants.
They film you having sex, and when you’re sprawled out all in your bed, all alone, screenshotting your body throughout the acts you perform on yourself and zooming in. For their pleasure or for your pain.
Zooming in on your face. Your body. Your tits. You’re laid bare, completely unaware that in your most intimate, private moments, you’re putting on a show just for them. So they can ridicule you with it later, or wank over you.
Sharing your videos and images with the rest of their sick, fucked-up network of perverted stalkers.
They post clips of you in private forums.
They keep files on you.
You’re labelled. The ugly ones. The hot ones. The ones who masturbate. The ones who pick their nose.
For the Ratters, it’s all about having that control.
They are more powerful than you can ever imagine.
They can literally break you, destroy you, they can bring you to your knees.
And after that it’s all just a waiting game until they get bored with you and want to move on to their next pursuit.
And that’s when the fun really begins.
That’s when they can start really fucking with you.
Let the real games commence.
They’ll threaten you then, blackmail you into paying up, to make them and all those intimate videos they’ve collected disappear. The ones of you masturbating when you thought you were all alone in your bed. Your legs spread wide open, as your fingers plunge deep inside of you. Or the other videos of your partner going down on you, or you on all fours sucking his cock.
They know where to send them. Where it will you hit you the hardest, because they have your entire list of contacts from your phone and your laptop.
They’ve read your emails and seen your messages. They know all the people who really matter the most.
Your important business contacts, every member of your family.
Your parents. Your kids. Your exes.
For the money.
For the power.
For the knowledge that they are the ones in control and there’s nothing you can do about it.
And they have other means of torment and suffering. So much more than mere mortals can contemplate.
Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it does. Once you’ve run your course and given them everything they want.
Once they are bored with you, they sell you on to the highest bidder.
To some sick fuck on the Dark Web. So that someone else can carry on where they left off and torment you. Only you’re the real prize then.
Because the next sick fuck has bought the golden ticket. They get everything.
Your photos. Your intimate videos. Your address.