"Fantastic," my Master said, admiring my naked body as I writhed in a musicless dance in front of his new webcam. "Just need to get it online now." And with that he clicked on Internet Explorer.

Online?

Like this?

My mind was racing. My Master was surely joking, he wouldn't make me do this online? He wouldn't make me expose myself in front of people, who knows where and god knows how many? But, even as I asked myself those questions, I knew the answer. It was evident in the purposeful way my Master was typing in a url and proceeding, I was soon to discover, to a video chatroom.

"You look like you know what you're doing?" I said testily.

"Yeah, I was searching for sites the other night and came across this one. It looked really cool, but you need a webcam to use it properly. I think we're going to have fun here."

Fun, I thought, was a relative term.

"I'm setting you up with a password and stuff," he continued, peering at the screen with animated concentration. "Harriet001 is your user name. Mine is going to be Master001. I'm using the 001 bit so that people know we're together." I didn't, in truth, see the connection, but as I said I don't always. I'm not sure whether my naivety is a curse or a blessing.

And so Harriet001 was registered on the BMS chat zone. And little did she realise what a star of the site she would soon become.

My Master set up his own account and sat back excitedly. "The moment of truth," he said. "Let's log on." He clicked on the broadcast button and selected log on, and after a moment of rising anxiety up popped, once more, our webcam broadcasting an unfocussed image of our study, with my bare arm and shoulder seemingly propping up the right hand side of the screen.

Only this time it was broadcasting the image, not just to my Master and me, but to the whole world.

I shuddered as I tried to comprehend the implications. At present there were no doubt dozens of people logging in around the world and checking the webcam of Harriet001, looking at the grainy image of my shoulder and waiting for a glimpse of the rest of me.

"Sit down," my Master said and I sat in the chair next to him. He adjusted the webcam so that it was focussed on my face and the box on the screen reflected back, in clear, unpixellated glory, my frowning and anxious face. "Now," he continued, "comes the fun bit. Logging on to a chatroom."

He clicked on chat and selected a general chatroom, and instantly fragments of other people's conversations began to appear on the screen.

"wtg, jackson"

"woohoo mandy"

"hotgrrl show us your pussy"

"been working nights bud not been in much"

The conversation careered by at breakneck speed, seemingly totally unconnected, a series of disjointed, meaningless phrases. Gradually, it was possible to pick up the threads, establish who was talking to whom, make some sense of the sprawl of words flying up the screen. And then.

"hey harriet lovely face. gonna show us some more"

My heart stopped and ice froze my muscles. In the pop-up window on my screen, my webcam image registered the shock of seeing my name appear. Someone had seen me. My Master indicated to the list of guests in the room on the right of the screen. Beside mine, Harriet001, was an icon which showed that I was female and I was on cam. Everyone in the room, alerted to my presence, was now checking out my features. The face I observed on my screen, tense and apprehensive, was being studied in countless bedrooms, by nameless individuals in locations right across the world. Harriet the Slave Girl was on display.

"harriet your gorgeus"

"hey harriet, pm?"

"love the name. can we talk"

"harriet show us your tits"

Within seconds I was the talk of the room. "Smile," my Master said beside me. "You're on candid camera." I forced a smile, all the while thinking of the maybe dozens of people who were studying it, fantasising about me, willing me on, hoping for more. It was a terrifying concept.

And then I noticed a flash on the screen. Something had happened, but I couldn't work out what it was. Then it happened again, and again, and finally I worked out that separate tabs were appearing behind the chatroom one, each with someone's name on it.

"What is it?" I asked, retreating from the screen in alarm.

"PMs, I think," said my Master, clicking on the first, from Davey27. "I'd love those lips around my cock," it said.

"I don't understand."

"Private messages. As well as writing for the whole room to read, you can write a private message to someone that only they can see. People want to talk to you." It was true. There were about eight of these separate tabs on my screen now. I opened another, from Hardguy.

"Look on my cam to see what youre doing to me," it said.

My Master clicked on Hardguy's name and after a moment his webcam appeared on the screen. Hardguy was completely naked, stretched back in his chair, his cock in his hand. Even on the small, grainy screen I could tell it was extremely large. "Wave if youre watching me," he wrote. My Master prodded me and I waved at the screen. My webcam, in the top right of the screen, waved back, and in the box below an instant later Hardguy, too waved, then blew me a kiss. "Hi, in cali here" he wrote.

"Hi," my Master wrote in reply.

"youve got me excited here"

"So I see."

"howabouts you show some of that mighty fine body"

My Master turned to me and smiled.

"Well, Harriet, how about it?" And with that he lowered the webcam until my shoulders, and chest and finally my bared breasts appeared on the screen.