Diane's Mistake
Copyright (c) 1999 Auryman

Chapter 1

 Diane Lawson stretched her arms high over her head then stood up. She'd 
been sitting in one position for a long time, knew that it was going to play hell 
with her back later (it's grim being over 35!), knew that she'd better walk around 
the room a few times to loosen things up. She walked across the thick, blue-
green carpet to the door, opened it a bit and looked out into the hall. No lights, 
everyone was still asleep. Even the dog just lay curled in the hallway - 
everything a perfect picture of middle-class bliss.

 The only anomalous thing at all was the blue light coming from the monitor 
on the desk. The library was dark, done with polished wood walls (their one big 
extravagance in an otherwise mundane house) and three of the four walls floor-
to-ceiling bookshelves. The fourth wall was covered with a variety of pictures, 
plaque, awards and paintings. And in the middle of the room was the desk. A 
big oak affair, custom made to house the computer monitor, speakers, scanners, 
printers, all of the new necessary appliances of a suburban home.

 The monitor faced the wall. When laying out the room, her husband and she 
both agreed that they didn't want anyone reading over their shoulder - she 
expected they had hugely different reasons. He was a very private person, a 
known conservative church-going man in the community, who often wrote 
opinion pieces for local and national magazines. He was militant about letting 
no one read drafts - only finished copy was to EVER leave the confines of his 
imagination or the TEMP directory on his computer. She had other reasons for 
wanting privacy. At least for the last several months.

 Both of them had been slow to warm to the Internet concept.  He, for 
reasons that smacked of an almost Amish avoidance of technology; she because 
of all the hype about child pornography and credit card fraud. Once the machine 
was in the house, though, they found they often fought for their online time. He 
found hundreds of sources he just had to read and keep track of - local 
conservative fact sheets that gave out the names and addresses of suspected drug 
dealers, Satanists, interracial liberal groups, in short, all those doing the work of 
the Devil.

 She found women's groups online that talked about raising children, 
handling multiple careers (she occasionally worked outside the home), and 
slowly started reading posts from many who were trying to come out from under 
the grip of a domineering husband. It wasn't much longer than her second week 
online that she started getting the infamous IM messages during her AOL 
sessions. She initially found them disgusting and yet another sign of the 
Downfall of Western Culture.

 Not long after that, she became intrigued by a seminary student in 
California who talked to her about poetry, art, God, and ultimately, sex. She fell 
into an online affair. She found herself up until one and two in the morning 
having cybersex with this 22 year old student halfway across the country. It was 
amazing, she'd read about it but discounted it as the domain of pimply, 
adolescent losers. Or perverts. Or child molesters. But at the very least, the 
domain of MEN.

+ + +

 In reality, she found herself completely engulfed in the freedom and 
intensity of a relationship with no strings, no faces, no histories, even no bodies. 
She'd masturbate herself to orgasm two and three times during a session. She 
was sure she'd found a soul mate and even carried on several weeks of self-
reflection and discussion about the possibilities of leaving her family and 
moving to the West Coast to pursue a "new life."

 It was during this last May that the student came clean. "He" was a "she" - a 
lesbian who was doing her best to use the Internet to liberate straight women of 
their rape-culture husbands. There would be no point in them meeting as Diane 
had made it clear in many discussions that she was not interested in a woman as 
a lover. The student was just sending email to say she was graduating and had to 
move on. It was a Dear John letter from Jane. Since then, she'd engaged in 
several other online relationships and found them all wanting. None had the 
depth of her first encounter, the commonality, the sense of deep friendship. On 
the other hand, she was able to recreate the excitement, the intensity and the gut-
wrenching power of the sexual side of that relationship almost immediately.

 She learned a lot about herself in doing that. She found that she loved the 
newness of each new conquest. (She considered herself the conqueror regardless 
of how many men initiated conversations with the familiar IM box.) Her Buddy 
List grew to dozens of names, many of whom she'd allow to invite others into 
their sessions. She would spin with the most far-flung fantasies of the most 
creative of the men - fucking in public, taking on groups of men, selling herself 
at another man's command, even weaving word fantasies about near-misses with 
women, high school football teams and a variety of mechanical devices.

 About three months ago, she'd decided to take on the project of writing and 
posting erotic stories online. She found it thrilling to recount her "chat" 
encounters as though they were real, retelling the stories and adding details that 
the participants had left out or had not been able to write clearly. She'd posted 
nearly two dozen stories when she hit on the idea of collaborating with one or 
two of the better writers whose work she'd read. And that was what she was 
writing tonight - her part of the next chapter in their ongoing serialized novel.

+ + +

 "You've got mail!" the machine announced in that familiar voice. She 
peered down the hall one last time, then closed the door and walked back to the 
desk. The name in the mailbox - SumwonElz - was not familiar. The subject line 
was simply "Hello Dolly!" Probably another ad for free time on a porn site. She 
deleted it. A few seconds later, "you've got mail" called her attention again to 
the mailbox. It was from the same person. This time the subject line had 
changed to "I Know What You Did Last Summer". She chuckled - persistent 
anyway - then deleted it again.

 The third time, the subject line was "Dangerous Liasons". She had to give it 
to him for ingenuity:  the lines are catchy and they must be using an 
autoresponder of some sort. But, what about the timing? The new messages 
appeared pretty quickly after she deleted the prior ones. This time, she left it in 
the mailbox for several minutes before deleting it. Sure enough, another one 
came on its heels.  Subject line:  "Don't You Want Me Baby?" - a song title this 
time. She didn't open it or delete it. If it was a game of some kind, she was 
already hooked. She let it languish in her IN box. Her mind went back to its 
work. She was writing the next chapter, an encounter in an adult movie house 
with the blackmailer. She had to try and put herself into the scene, get the right 
feel for it, before trying to write it. An IM broke her concentration.

 - SumwonElz: Diane, why aren't you reading my mail? She grinned, 
thought a second, then typed her answer.

 - SubDiane: Because I don't know you. She clicked the dialog box closed 
and Alt-Tabbed back to her story. "Ding!" Back in AOL, another IM:
 - SumwonElz: I know you don't know me. But I know you.
 - SubDiane:  I don't think so. Did we meet in a chat under another name?
 - SumwonElz: Oh no, nothing that simple. I was just driving down L -- 
street a little while ago. I spotted your minivan in the driveway. Thought I'd see 
if you were online.

 How in the hell would he know she lived on L -- street? After a short pause, 
she realized it was a guess. There must be an L -- street in a dozen towns in the 
country. He was guessing. It was a little unnerving, but hey, sometimes they hit. 
She decided to play along and see what he was up to.

 - SubDiane: Nice of you to notice. Would I have seen you?
 - SumwonElz: Oh, I don't think so. You would have had to be outside. And 
you weren't.
 - SubDiane: Sorry I missed you. Maybe next time.
 - SumwonElz: Certainly next time. Because I'm going to tell you when and 
where to be.

She caught his drift. It was going to be another online encounter. Everyone was 
asleep and she was feeling a little horny, maybe it would be fun. She decided to 
see what he had to offer.

 - SubDiane: That sounds like fun... Are you good at this?
 - SumwonElz: Oh, Mrs. Lawson, don't be cute. I'm not looking for cyber.

Diane felt a jolt of panic. She looked around the room to make sure she was 
alone. The window was closed, the shade drawn. The door was still closed. The 
entire room was cloaked in shadow with the blue glow from the terminal the 
only light. It reflected off glass lampshades, silver knick-knacks on the shelves, 
and the curtain rod. Still, she had the feeling someone was watching her.

 - SumwonElz: Mrs. Lawson? Are you still there?
 - SubDiane: Yes, I'm here. Who do you think I am? This "Mrs. Lawson"?
 - SumwonElz: Mrs. Diane Lawson of 3991 L -- Street, Franklin Park, 
Illinois? 38 years old, white (Caucasian) mid-west housewife, two teenage 
children, one boy, one girl (you lied in your online profile, very nice move) 
married for just under 12 years. Statistics you posted seem slightly incorrect 
from what I could see in the last week or two. 5'6" sounds right, but weigh 
around 140 lbs. We'll talk about that later, I work out at a very nice gym in 
town. Brown eyes, shoulder length, brown hair. Measurements are a bit obscure, 
I haven't seen you up that close yet, but soon... Now, are there any questions 
about whether or not I know you?
 - SubDiane: Who the hell are you?
 - SumwonElz: I advise you to answer your email.

He knew her! How? Had she been careless in one of her chats? Left enough 
clues for someone to track her down? Was it someone who saw her name on the 
computer somehow? But who? Who looked at the computer in their house?

 - SubDiane: How do you know me?
 - SumwonElz: I guess that's for me to know and for you to find out.

She paused, trying to figure out her next move. Maybe she could learn 
something about him from AOL. Report him to TOS. She clicked on the 
"People" icon, then "Locate Member Online". The reply box came back saying 
"Member is not currently online." Just to check, she clicked "write mail" and 
sent a test message.  She got back a dialog box that said "SumwonElz - This is 
not a known member." He did not exist inside AOL.

 - SubDiane: Who are you? AOL says you do not exist.
 - SumwonElz: Given what I know about you, wouldn't you say they're 
wrong?
 - SubDiane: I don't understand
 - SumwonElz: you don't need to. Look at it this way, either I'm an employee 
who is misusing my authority, or I'm a hacker who broke into their site and is 
messing with them. Either way, you're kinda stuck, aren't you? Now, just read 
the mail.
 - SubDiane: what do you mean? "Member is no longer logged on"

Whoever it was, he was certainly a hacker. He'd cut the connection and she was 
left with the email in her IN basket. She hesitated to read it, clicked off the 
power saver screen and pushed the chair back. Just a few fingers of scotch, she 
told herself, to steady myself.

 She was curious, puzzled, confused. Who was this guy and what did he 
want? Was he playing, maybe a friend who wanted to get in on the chats? 
Maybe someone from an old chat?  But that didn't make any sense. How could 
they know personal details? And, how could they know which of the ones she'd 
posted were lies?

 No, this person knew her. It was someone playing games. But who? And 
why?

+ + +

 She drank the scotch, put the bottle and glass back on the shelf, then went 
back to the computer. Still standing, she clicked the monitor ON, then double 
clicked in her IN box to open his mail. She read his email:
> Diane:
> I've been watching you with fascination for the last several weeks now. You 
are versatile and imaginative in your cybersex encounters, in fact, one of the 
most eager I've met. I can see from your recent posts that you are considering 
entering the real world. You are like a moth, you are flying close to the fire. You 
have been unaware of the danger. The danger is here. I know your name. I know 
your address. I know the names of your daughter and son. I know where they go 
to school. I know where your husband works. I know about his articles, I know 
about the causes he supports. I know about his petition work during the 
Communications Decency Act. I have, in fact, spoken with him about it and he 
has made a generous donation to my organization. Ask him about it. It's called 
Parents Against Smut and Sleaze. We met, spoke for about 30 minutes, and he 
donated $100 dollars just two weeks ago.

 Don't bother checking on the organization, it doesn't exist. In fact, if you 
like, you can tell him to void his check. James would be quite shocked to receive 
in the mail transcripts of several of your better 'chat' sessions. He would also be 
upset to review the facts of your attempted affair with the college student from 
California. I believe you said - and I quote: "I could come up with the money for 
a plane ticket if you promised that all of your energy would be focused on me 
for the entire two days..." -- unquote. I plan to be the one who helps you make 
that next step, from the lust-crazed world inside your head to fucking and 
sucking in the real world.
I will contact you again soon. Have a nice night.
> SumwonElz

 She stared at the screen, completely numb and frozen, for several minutes 
before turning it off and heading for bed.

Chapter 2

 The next morning, after she'd seen her husband and daughter off with a 
good breakfast, Diane went back into the library to check her email. She was 
hoping that maybe the mysterious stranger whose email she read last night was 
just a bad dream. But, there it was in the "OLD MAIL" tab. The entire thing. 
Descriptions of her and her family that were definitely not guesses. The details 
were all correct, none were wrong or even merely "close". "Ding!"

 - SumwonElz: Good morning. Did you sleep well?
 - SubDiane: What do you think?
 - SumwonElz: Spunky as ever. I like that. Are you ready to see what it's like 
being a sex slave    in the real world?

Her stomach knotted. They'd not taken her too far in the stories yet, the chapters 
that were published online didn't seem like anything too extreme. What did this 
guy have in mind anyway? She felt something and wondered if it was fear or 
excitement.

 - SumwonElz: I asked you a question.
 - SubDiane: I'm sorry. What did you have in mind?
 - SumwonElz: Check your mail.
 - SubDiane: I already did. "Member is no longer logged on"

"Jerk! I hate it when they do that!" she yelled to no one in particular. She clicked 
onto the "Read Mail" icon and saw that there was a new piece of mail in her IN 
box. The flag hadn't gone up on the mailbox icon and she didn't hear the familiar 
voice. Whoever he was, he was messing with AOL protocol. She wondered 
why.
> Diane
 I'd like to get a better look at you. You will drive into Chicago and head for 
the Crown Books at 1444 S. Clark St. Be there at 10 a.m. Dress in a black skirt 
and a white blouse.  Shoes, nylons, jewelry of your choosing. No bra or panties. 
You will browse the art and photography books from 10:00 until 10:15. If 
anyone approaches you, tell them you are just looking. Do not engage in 
conversation with anyone, not even a store clerk. Feel free to take any books 
from the shelf and look through them. Try to look natural and casual, I want to 
see what you look like in your natural state. Don't try to find me, I won't let you.
 At 10:15, you will be given an envelope. Leave the bookstore and go into 
the coffee shop two doors down the street. Read the contents of the envelope 
and follow the instructions you find there. If you have any thought of hesitation, 
banish it. You know and I know that you are curious. We also know that you 
don't want those printouts in your husband's hands.>

 No bra and panties? He was pushing her rather quickly, she thought. That 
was a familiar piece of role playing fantasy, she often talked about dressing with 
no underwear. She wondered if that was part of his game, using her own chats 
against her. Diane was already picturing herself in the outfit. She had a skirt and 
a top that would fit the bill, and shoes she liked. She'd wear panty hose just in 
case he got too ambitious and tried grabbing her ass or raping her. She'd meet 
him, talk with him, and see what he really wanted. There's no way he'd send 
those prints to her house, she told herself. Probably some college student 
playing games. He'd get off on her following his commands and that would be 
that.

 She looked at the clock on the desk. It was 8:30. She opened her browser 
and keyed the address of the bookstore into the mapping program. It was 
downtown, it would take at least 20 minutes to drive, another 20 to find parking. 
She went upstairs to shower and change.

+ + +

 Traffic hadn't been too bad, but finding parking was impossible. It was 9:50 
when she walked into the store. There were about a dozen people inside, all 
neatly dressed - probably the downtown crowd either on their way to work or 
taking an early break. Most of the men were in suits, the women also dressed 
very professionally. There was so much gray she felt she'd landed in a black and 
white movie set.

 No one looked at her as she walked around the store, looking for the right 
section. She was aware of her breasts swinging free underneath the blouse, but 
no one else seemed to be. A slight feeling of apprehension came over her as she 
stepped beneath the sign that read "Art and Photography". There was a man 
standing there, looking at a book of album cover art.

 "Weren't these great?" he asked her as she came closer.

 "Uh huh," she mumbled, hoping to avoid an encounter. If it was him, he'd 
have to let her know for certain. If it wasn't, well, she didn't feel like talking to 
anyone anyway. The man put the book back into its place and walked away. She 
let her eyes glide over the books on the shelves. Cezanne, Dali, Ansel Adams, 
black and white fashion collections, portraits and landscapes. She loved art, had 
studied Art History in college but ended up majoring in accounting when it was 
all said and done.

 There was a book of nudes in front of her at eye level. She couldn't help but 
stare at the defiant look of the young woman whose face and naked breasts made 
up the cover. The photographer had captured a look that straddled the line 
between "I'm a slut" and "Don't even think about it". Diane picked the book up 
and flipped idly through the pages. The pictures were wonderful, none of the 
women looked forced or posed. At one point, she felt herself being pulled into a 
landscape of flesh - two full page full color pictures of naked torsos, arms and 
legs pulled behind and out of the camera's eye. She became aware of her body, 
felt her nipples growing and brushing against the fabric of her blouse. She 
closed the book and put it back on the shelf.

 Something further down the same shelf caught her eye. It was a hardcover 
book with a black cover and gold, handwritten letters. It said "Diane's Chats". 
She looked around, no one was watching her. Her hand trembled as she reached 
for it. There was no publisher's imprint on the spine or the back cover. The front 
cover was blank. It looked more like a sketchbook than a published book.

 With nervous fingers, she opened it. There, on the first page, was a photo of 
her getting out of her car. The photo had been taken in her driveway at home. 
She was wearing a skirt and her legs were visible to just above the knees. She 
looked up and checked her aisles and the ones nearby. No one was watching her. 
She turned the page. It was, indeed, an artist's sketch book but there were no 
more pictures. Instead, page after page of chat log had been printed and glued to 
the pages of the blank book. There were chats dating back nearly to when it all 
started. Whoever'd put it together had been watching her for a long time. Or had 
access to logs that she didn't know existed. Which could it be? She thumbed 
through the book and found a loose piece of paper that had been stuck in 
between two pages. It was a note:

 "Put the book under your arm and take it with you as a souvenir. The clerk 
will not give you any trouble. Two possible reasons for you to consider. One, he 
might recognize it as a sketchbook and assume you walked in with it. Or, maybe 
I've told him what's up and he's having fun just watching you. Have fun 
guessing which."

 She looked around the store again. What if someone had come across the 
book accidentally? Recognized her photo? Recognized something in one of the 
chats? It was 10:12. Another three minutes and she could leave. She clenched 
the book tight under her arm, tried to appear calm and browse through the other 
books in that section. What made him so sure she'd see it? Was he the man 
looking at the album cover book? How long had the book been there? What if 
someone else HAD looked at it? She felt her stomach tighten as it started to sink 
in: this guy was playing rough.

 Another customer walked into her aisle. It was an older man, another gray 
suit. He picked up a book of black and white Western landscapes. Stepping 
closer to her, he opened the book and showed her a picture.

 "Do you have any idea whether this is part of the Grand Canyon?" She 
looked at him nervously. It was 10:15. She'd been instructed not to carry on any 
conversations. Yet, maybe this was the one who was going to deliver the letter. 
She decided to chance talking with him.

 "It looks more like the Rockies. But, I don't know much about those things." 
He nodded his head, closed the book and put it back on the shelf. Then, he 
walked away and started nosing around in the Fiction section. Diane looked at 
her watch: 10:16. No one had given her anything. Maybe it was all a prank, or 
maybe the jerk had got cold feet when he realized he could go to jail for what he 
was about to do.

 As she moved her left foot to start walking to the door, she felt something 
brush against her ankle. There was an envelope someone had propped up against 
her shoe while she was talking to the other customer. Uncertain what to expect, 
she bent down and picked it up. The envelope was blank, nothing at all on either 
side. She stuffed it between the pages of the sketch book and walked out the 
door of the store.

+ + +

 As he'd said, there was a coffee shop two doors down. She went in, took a 
quick inventory of the patrons but had no clue that one of them might be him. A 
waitress pointed to a booth halfway back and against the wall. Diane nodded 
and took her seat.

 "Coffee?"

 "Sure, that's fine," she said. When the waitress had put the cup and saucer 
down in front of her, she opened the sketchbook. The envelope was there, 
waiting ominously for her. She took it in her hand and tapped it a few times. It 
was as if she were relishing her last few minutes of freedom. She had realized 
this:  if this person was a blackmailer and if indeed he had interest in her sex 
chats, it was pretty clear what he would want. The only questions left were:  
when and for how long?

Chapter 3

 She sipped the coffee. He hadn't said anything about reading the letter right 
away and she wanted to give herself a few minutes to get her composure. A 
small part of her was still hoping she'd figure out who it might be, or that he'd 
change his mind at the last minute. She felt that once the envelope was opened, 
they would have crossed a line together that they couldn't come back from. With 
the butter knife from the table, she slit the top of the envelope open. Inside was a 
folded note:

 "It's still early in the day and you don't have anyone to go home to until at 
least 3:30. Isn't that when your daughter comes home? Oh yes, I almost forgot. 
Today is Tuesday, so that means you're free until 4 o'clock. I've taken a room at 
the Palmer for the day. One thing I'd really enjoy is to see how you behave when 
you're made to play the whore. Your assignment for this morning is to go to the 
Palmer House, take the elevator to the 8th floor, and knock on the door of room 
812.

 "You are to take the name 'Sandra' and service the man inside that room. 
You are not to make any allusion to our arrangement, you are not to confront 
that man with the details of our arrangement, under penalty of an immediate 
delivery of the materials you've seen today to your husband and children. Your 
job is to convince him totally that you are indeed one of Chicago's finest, that 
your name is Sandra, and that you will do anything he asks for $200.00.

 "When you are finished, go down to the lobby and ask the concierge for a 
package with your name on it."

 The note ended there. She turned it over, looked for another page but there 
was nothing else.  She was frightened and full of questions. Why the false 
name? What name to give the concierge - Sandra or Diane? Why the Palmer 
House? What did he mean that he might do "anything" to her? Was she to 
complete the charade and force him to hand her the money? Would this be a 
one-time thing or would he expect her to be available again in the future? It was 
10:35, she needed to go if she was going to be on time.

 Diane paid the waitress with a $5.00 and a smile, then walked to the door.

 "Miss! Sandra! Wait! You forgot your letter!" She heard the waitress calling 
her, but ran out of the shop and toward the parking garage.

+ + +

 At 10:59, Diane Lawson - now known as Sandra - was standing in the rich 
red carpet outside the door of room 812. She adjusted her skirt slightly, tucked 
the small purse under her arm, then knocked.

 "Yes?"

 "Hello. It's me, Sandra," she said to the closed door. Inside the room, there 
was some shuffling, then the slide of the deadbolt. The door opened. The man at 
the door was middle aged, not handsome but not unhandsome. He had on grey 
pants and wore a white shirt with tiny red stripes over a protruding belly.

 "I'm Andy. Come in." She looked at him closely, trying to determine 
whether or not he was going to play the game all the way. As she walked past, 
he leaned forward and took a breath. "Nice hair." He closed and locked the door 
and began the play immediately. "So, I understand you're one of the best 
Chicago has to offer?" She gave him what she hoped was a knowing glance.

 "I've been told I'm pretty good."

 "You do deep throat?" In the chats, this was always a favorite, she should 
have expected it.

 "If you like."

 "And it's two hundred dollars, right? For the whole thing?"

 "That's right." She was getting tired of this playing and wished he'd just 
come out and talk about the blackmail.

 "OK, then, get on your knees over here and let's get on with it." He 
unbuckled his belt, unsnapped his pants and pulled them down around his knees. 
His white thighs were flabby and his legs sparsely covered with long, stringy 
hairs. He pulled down a pair of white boxers and she saw his thin, flaccid prick 
peeking out from under his shirt tails.

 Diane felt revulsion coming up from her stomach, this was not going to be a 
pleasant experience. He was not attractive at all and that, combined with the 
circumstance of the blackmail and the game, made her feel ill. But, she knew the 
stakes and knelt down in front of him.  She took his organ between her fingers 
and started kissing the head.

 "I have to sit down," he said and walked across the room to an armchair. 
She followed, kneeling between his open legs and reaching for his cock again. 
She licked small circles around the head and felt it begin to stiffen. A few long 
strokes along the neck and down to the base and it was fully erect.

 "Sandra?"

 "Yes," she answered.

 "When it gets nice and hard, I want you to deep throat me until I cum. Then, 
swallow it all." Take that thing into her mouth all the way, until her nose was 
buried in his balls? She knew she had to do it but didn't know if she could. She 
heard him grunting and felt his hand in her hair. He grabbed a handful and 
started pulling.

 "Ouch!"

 "Shut the fuck up and do it!" She pushed her mouth as far down on his cock 
as it would go. She felt the small head against the back of her throat. Then, she 
slid her tongue up and down along the shaft as well as she could. "Let's hear you 
hum a little," he grunted. She recognized this one from chats too. She pushed the 
head as far back into her mouth as it would go, then started humming lightly. He 
grunted and pulled her hair harder. She felt his sweaty balls and her eyes 
watered slightly.

 It took only a few minutes for him to get off. As he did, he pushed her head 
down hard. She didn't want to swallow it, but there was too much and she started 
to gag. He wouldn't release the pressure and she was forced to swallow it - all 
but the last bit she could keep in her mouth. When he stopped bucking up and 
down, she let the cock slide out of her mouth. She stood up, her lips tightly 
clenched.

 "You didn't swallow it all?" Diane shook her head. "Well, you can swallow 
it now. Do not leave this room until your mouth is empty." Swallow it? Fuck 
you! she thought. But even as she thought it, she knew she had no choice. She 
braced herself and swallowed the rest of the warm, thick liquid.

 "Good. That's better. Well, your money's on the table. Nice work." Diane 
wiped her lips with the back of her hand and stepped toward the door. "Take the 
money, cunt." She looked at him, then at the dresser, then though - what the 
hell? If he wants to pay me real cash as part of his fantasy, let him. She picked 
up the bills, stuffed them into her purse, and walked to the door. "See you next 
time," he said. She didn't turn around, but opened the door and stepped out into 
the hall. After pulling the door closed behind her, she waited there a few 
minutes. Wasn't he going to come out, tell her she did a good job, give her a 
next assignment? Maybe explain the limits and expectations of this relationship?
 
There was no sound from the inside and she heard the elevator bell ding.

He'd said to go to the concierge. She figured she'd better. There were two other 
riders in the elevator, neither was the man from the room. She avoided looking 
at either of them, just rode in silence.

+ + +

 "I'm expecting a package for Sandra," Diane said to the man behind the 
desk. The concierge wore a very elaborate uniform - a coat of thick velvet with 
long tails, dress striped slacks, perfectly starched shirt, vest, and a red cap. 
Rather than reaching for an envelope or package, he stood looking at her and not 
speaking. He never established eye contact, but looked her up and down from 
her ankles to her neck.

 "There is nothing here for a Sandra," he told her with an air of authority. 

Shit! Guessed wrong, she thought.

 "I'm sorry, what about for Diane Lawson?"

 "I don't understand. For whom are you picking up a package?"

 "For myself," she stammered.

 "Well, are you uncertain what your name is?  Is it Sandra or is it Diane?"

He gave her a condescending look, as though he knew what was in the package 
and was going to make her sweat for it. Luckily, on the way from the coffee 
shop, she'd thought through this possibility and had what she thought was a 
good answer.

 "I'm in town with a friend and I'm not sure which name they were going to 
leave the package under." She tried to give him an innocent smile, despite the 
fact that he was starting at her nipples.

 "Oh, I see. And what room are you staying in?" She hadn't anticipated that.
 Desperate for an idea, she blurted out "well, I'm with a friend in room 812."
 "Room 812? That would be Mr. Harris. A very nice man who asked me for 
a dinner recommendation last night. In from out of town for business. He 
checked in yesterday and mentioned to me that he might be having a 'visitor' this 
morning." The emphasis he'd put on the word 'visitor' scared her. What had he 
told her? And why did his charade extend to the concierge?

 "Well, I don' t know anything about that, I only know that I'm supposed to 
pick up a package."

 "Yes, well I do have a package for you." He reached under the desk and 
took out a small box, wrapped with a red ribbon. "I just want to mention one 
thing.  From here forward, I suggest you do your business elsewhere. We have a 
very good reputation with the local police and we do NOT want to risk it. Is that 
understood?"

 Diane felt tears welling in her eyes. The concierge had nearly called her a 
whore. She and her husband had stayed at that hotel before. Did the man 
recognize her? What if they wanted to go back there again? She wanted to yell 
at him - to tell him that the man up there was not an out of town businessman 
but a blackmailer who stopped just short of raping her. She looked at his stern 
face and hard eyes. He would not listen. She took the package and ran out of the 
building.

Chapter 4

 Diane walked back to her car, carrying the box underneath her left arm. She 
was watching the people who walked by. She knew it was irrational, but it felt 
like they had all heard the concierge's words.

 When she got to the car, she opened the door, then slid inside and pressed 
the lock switch. She put her forehead on the steering wheel and cried for ten 
minutes. What had she done? Because of these online cybersex chats, she'd just 
sucked off another man - a blackmailer who threatened to give her husband 
transcripts of her affairs. It hadn't been worth the price. She wished she'd known 
the possibilities and never started with the online world of sex. But, it was too 
late. He might want to fuck her again sometime and she would not be able to say 
no. How often would he do it?

 At least he hadn't done anything extreme or dangerous. She had worried 
earlier today that the "anything for $200.00" had meant that maybe he'd tie her 
up, maybe take pictures, maybe bring another man into the room. He hadn't 
done anything like that, and she was grateful. Perhaps that one blow job was 
going to do it for him. For now, there was the box to contend with.
 She untied the ribbon and took off the lid. Inside was a toothbrush, a tube of 
hotel sized toothpaste, a note, and something wrapped in white tissue. She 
unfolded the note and read it:

 "If you are reading this, then I can assume you have serviced Mr. Hardy in 
room 812. Thank you. I will collect my half of the $200.00 later. You have no 
more assignments today. Please return to your home and await further 
instructions. Keep the contents of this package with you at all times. Have a nice 
day."

 She crumpled the note and threw it to the floor of the minivan. "Have a nice 
day?" What kind of thing was that to say to someone who'd just been 
blackmailed into sucking your cock? The tissue paper package was small, about 
the size of her tiny purse. She unfolded it slowly. Inside were two items: a white 
thong panty, made of what must have been nylon, and a small tube of KY jelly. 
She leaned her left arm on the steering wheel and rested her head on her wrist.
 For several minutes, she sat in the car and cried. Nothing changed. The 
feeling inside her was the same - she was sick, angry, upset that this man was 
playing games with her. Did he think she was going to be his personal lover? 
Dressing up to play hooker for him when the urge hit him?

+ + +

 It was nearly three in the afternoon before she started the motor and headed 
for home. She was shocked to realize she'd been sitting there in the minivan, 
thoughts racing through her mind, then alternately stopping abruptly leaving her 
dazed and empty-headed. When she got home, she showered for nearly 30 
minutes, using the hot water and soap to scrub the memories off her arms, legs, 
face, neck, wishing she could was them out of her mind. She brushed her teeth, 
flossed, gargled, brushed-flossed-gargled again, spitting the various liquids to 
the floor of the bathtub and letting the shower water wash them into the sewer 
where they belonged.

 She shampooed three times to be sure there was no residue, nothing that 
might cling or clot, nothing that her husband or daughter might see or smell that 
would make them ask questions. Over dinner that night, they had the standard 
pleasant conversation. When asked what she had done that day, she said she run 
a few errands in the city. It was only a lie in the most technical sense.

+ + +

 "I'm going to do a little surfing before I go to bed," Diane said to her 
husband. He was sitting in bed propped up on a few pillows, reading a copy of 
the National Review. His eyeglasses were halfway down his nose and his dark 
blue pajamas stood out in nice contrast to the crisp white sheets.

 "So, tonight will be like any other night, I take it," he said a bit sternly.

 "Are you upset about that?" she asked a bit nervously. He chuckled and set 
the magazine flat on his lap, careful not to lose his page.

 "No, I was trying to make a joke. Every night, after I fall asleep, you go off 
and get on that darn thing. I don't know if you're trading recipes, shopping for 
Beanie Babies, or just kibitzing with the other moms out there about our 
daughter's bedtime habits, but I don't mind. Just as long as we're together, we 
can each have our own hobbies."

 "Oh, well, you can always count on that, dear," she said. She climbed onto 
the bed and slowly crawled forward until she was straddling him, knees on 
either side of his hips, then leaned forward to give him a kiss. He frowned and 
put his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back slightly.

 "I told you I don't like you on top of me like this. You're acting like a 
whore. And, I've also told you I don't like you going to bed wearing nothing but 
an oversized t-shirt." She crossed her arms and leaned back on his legs.

 "It's a nightshirt and I'm wearing panties. I know what you like and what 
you don't like - what about what I like?"

 "You get what you like. A house and a family and food on the table. And 
money to run your 'errands in the city'. Whatever you were doing, I'm sure you 
enjoyed yourself. You have all the time in the world while I'm at work and you 
know it. So, let's not get into this one again, shall we?" Diane swung her legs off 
the edge of the bed and stood up. She was upset but this was a familiar 
conversation and she knew better than to pursue it.

 "Well, I guess I'm off then." She started walking toward the door.

 "Wait a minute!" he called. When she turned around, she saw that he had a 
concerned look on his face. He pushed the covers down around his knees and 
got up out of the bed. He stepped into his slippers and checked to make sure his 
buttons were all done. "You're going to get on the computer again, aren't you?" 
A cold fear gripped her stomach. Did he suspect something? Had the 
blackmailer called him? Sent him a letter? Visited him at work?

 "You know, part of me wonders whether this climbing on top of me and this 
'nightshirt and panties' thing is part of something you've learned in one of those 
'women's groups' on the Internet.  You know, 'how to please your man'..." She 
shook her head, reached for him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

 "Nothing like that. I just like dressing like this and I'm sorry it offends you."

 "I didn't mean it that way," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "I just 
like to know what's going on with you, that's all."

 "Listen, if anything out of the ordinary happens, I'll be sure to tell you." She 
kissed him on the lips, then turned and walked out of the room. At the end of the 
hall, she stood at the door of the library waiting for the light to go out in their 
bedroom. It was nearly ten minutes before he put down the magazine, but she 
knew he was going to sleep for the night.

+ + +

 When she connected and checked her IN box, there was only one piece of 
email from SumwonElz:

 "Having seen you in the bookstore, I am more or less satisfied with your 
appearance. This may change in the future, but we will deal with that when the 
time comes. You did a fine job in room 812 today. So well, in fact, that you will 
repeat that performance tomorrow at 10 a.m. Wear the same clothes. Do not 
wear the gift you received in the box, but bring it along. Brush your teeth before 
entering the room."

 There was nothing more in the IN box, not even the usual junk mail or 
solicitations from others she'd done chats with in the past. Was he tampering 
with her IN box as well? She clicked the mouse - both the Old Mail and Sent 
Mail and both boxes were empty as well. Whoever this was, he knew his way 
around a computer. "Ding!"

 - SumwonElz: Good to see you.
 - SubDiane: What does your email mean about tomorrow? Wasn't today 
enough?
 - SumwonElz: Enough? You are certainly not serious.
 - SubDiane: Why not?
 - SumwonElz: Oh the stakes are much higher than that. One visit was not 
even a taste of what we have in mind for you.

 She stared at the screen, stunned.

 - SubDiane: "We"?
 - SumwonElz: That's what I said.
 - SubDiane: You said nothing about there being more than one of you.
 - SumwonElz: I have no need to explain anything to you. Be there 
tomorrow.
 - SubDiane: I don't understand. "Member is no longer logged on"

She slammed her fist down on the desk. This was horrible - what was he 
thinking to do to her?  She'd already dressed up and played 'hooker' for him, had 
his cock in her mouth, sucked him off, played his game with the concierge, what 
else did he want? Driving into the city again was going to be a pain in the ass, 
and what if the concierge spotted her and called the police? How would she 
explain her way out of that? And could she get on her knees and give him what 
he wanted again, two days in a row? Today was difficult enough. What if he 
tried to have her drive to the city every day? With a feeling of disgust, she 
turned off the computer without even signing off.

Chapter 5

 Driving along the freeway on her way into the city, Diane considered her 
options. The obvious choice was to tell him that she'd brought in the police. Tell 
her husband that he'd made up the entire thing, that those were not her chat logs. 
Someone could forge them, there was no real proof to tie her to the name 
"SubDiane". Except that the name was registered as an alias on AOL and he'd 
certainly seen it by now. But there no way to prove that she'd actually 
participated in those chats. The blackmailers could certainly have gathered the 
logs from anywhere and changed the names. Would that work?

 As she turned off the exit ramp and started into city traffic, she realized that 
it wouldn't work. She'd met the man face to face. He might have taken 
photographs. Hell, he could have videotaped their entire session. There was a 
line outside the parking garage and it took her nearly ten minutes between 
pulling into the line and turning off the car in a parking space. She checked her 
make up - as if it mattered to the blackmailer - and picked up her tiny purse. 
Everything had been emptied out except her driver's license, twenty dollars in 
cash, lipstick, the toothbrush and toothpaste, and the KY jelly. No use carrying 
the entire wallet or much of anything else. And, it might turn out to be 
dangerous. What if he stole her purse?

 At the door of the hotel, she stopped cold. The concierge! How to get past 
him? Inside the hotel lobby, there were few guests. It looked like a light 
morning. If she walked in, he'd be certain to see her as she made the long walk 
from the door to the elevators. She pushed the door open and looked inside. He 
was not at his post!

 It was too dangerous to wait for an elevator. Swiftly, she crossed the space 
between the front door and the stairwell. Pushing the door open, slid through, 
then pulled it shut behind her. Softly, she walked up the two flights of stairs that 
brought her to the third floor. Then, she exited and walked to the elevator - 
pushed the UP button. She was in. Now, she just had to avoid him on the way 
out.

+ + +

 "Mr. Harris?" she whispered as she knocked on the door. Inside the room, a 
laugh and then footsteps. The peephole darkened and the lock slid open.

 "Back again, hm? Well, I'm glad you were available. You folks certainly 
cater to requests, don't you?"

 "Look, why don't you cut the crap? I want to get this over with - what will it 
take for you to leave me alone?" He stared at her, took a deep breath, and 
scratched his belly.

 "I'm not sure what you mean. I mean, I called you, you came. I even asked 
for you by name. Don't you like me?" She shook her head.

 "Cut out the 'I called your agency' shit. You have the chats, I want you to 
keep them quiet, can't we just be up front about it?" A blank look spread across 
his face. He turned and walked across the room to the small refrigerator. With 
only a slight look of concern, he swung the door open and took out a can of 
beer. The top gave a loud "pfft!" noise as he pulled the tab. While he raised the 
can and took a long drink, Diane watched him. He was toying with her, trying to 
get back into the roles. Fuck him, maybe she would unnerve him by not backing 
down.

 "I want to know what you want," she said again. Harris wiped his lips on 
the back of his hand, put the beer can down on the dresser, and started 
unbuttoning his shirt.

 "Honey, I don't know what it is you're talking about, but I know what I want 
and I think you do too. Yesterday was nice - I love your mouth - but this time I 
want some pussy. So, what say we drop the game playing and you get out of 
those clothes and onto the bed, hmmm?" Resist or capitulate? she wondered. 
Force his hand or take the easy way out? Her resolve started to grow - she 
realized that she had to nip this in the bud.

 "Jim doesn't care about the printouts - I told him about them. You can forget 
it, the arrangement's off," she yelled, then turned and started walking toward the 
door.

 "Hold it, Sandra!" he commanded. She turned around and stared at him. He 
was holding the telephone receiver. "They warned me that you might try 
something and said that, if you did, I was to call the desk and ask for them to 
send someone from security to escort you down. And that you would really not 
want me to do that. Is that correct?"

 His eyes gave away nothing. He might do it. This was even worse than 
sending the printouts - she'd be brought home by a policeman, dressed like this, 
with the blackmailer's story on top of the evidence of the printouts. She felt 
herself lose her will.

 "That..that's correct," she muttered, dropping her purse to the floor.

 "That's what I thought." He set the phone back on its cradle. "Now, why 
don't we come over here and be nice to each other?" Slowly, she walked back to 
the bed and sat on the edge. Bending down, she slid the shoe off her left foot, 
then her right. She pulled the blouse out of the skirt, then unsnapped and 
unzipped the skirt and stood up, letting it fall to the floor.

 "OK, so fuck me." Harris stepped out of his pants and stood wearing the 
same boxers as yesterday. He walked to the bed, leaned over her, and kissed her 
on the mouth.

 "I know you whores don't usually allow this, but for $200, they said I'd get 
all kinds of special treatment..." When he slid his tongue between her lips, she 
resisted. His hands reached underneath her and grabbed her ass cheeks. "Come 
on, honey, play nice," he urged. She opened her mouth and let him slide his 
tongue in. She didn't move her lips or body.

 "Hey! Listen, that's enough bullshit! Let's see some action for my money, 
huh?" The tone in his voice scared her and she started rubbing her hands up and 
down his back. When he kissed, she kissed back. Hesitantly at first, but then she 
closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy what she could. He was gentle for 
the most part, his hands enjoying the feel of her hips and legs, his kiss, sloppy 
but considerate.

 She took his limp cock in her hand, stroked it lightly. With her other hand, 
she slid the boxers off over his ass and down to his knees. She slid further 
toward the middle of the bed and spread her legs, letting him lay between her 
open thighs. His lips moved down to her neck and he kissed, licked, and 
nibbled. She felt herself start to get wet. Imagined that he was one of the lovers 
she'd sought out in the chats, this time in the flesh. She tried to remember a 
favorite cyber session, trying to let that memory run in her mind and get her 
excited.

 His organ stiffened and he started immediately for her cunt. She opened 
herself and let him slide in - maybe this would be over quickly. He moaned as 
his cock head slid between the outer lips, then nearly collapsed when she raised 
her hips to meet him, taking the entire cock in one quick thrust.

 "There we are, honey, give it to me," she whispered in what she hoped was 
sexy tone. Anything to get him moving along quicker. "Come on, I love to feel 
that big cock splitting me open..." Her tongue ran up and down his neck, her left 
hand reached between their bellies and tried to find his balls.

 "You're nice and wet," he whispered.

 "For you, anything," she answered back, lying. He started humping 
seriously now, up and down, the bed shaking under his weight. She felt her legs 
being pushed flat, sweat from him underarms and belly starting to trickle down 
onto her body there under him. She had to remove her hand because he was so 
heavy.

 "Good little pussy, good little cunt," he was whispering over and over as he 
fucked her. "Good little..ooooh...." She felt the warm liquid ooze into her cunt, 
felt his cock go limp and his body collapse on top of her. She tried to raise her 
knees a bit to get some relief from his weight, but could only get them a few 
inches off the mattress. His hair filled her eyes, nose, mouth, she smelled his 
sweaty scalp and neck. His hands were still under her ass but they went limp. 
He'd fallen asleep.

 "Hey! This isn't part of the deal," she yelled, pushing him off of her. He 
rolled over on his side, then laughed.

 "OK, OK. Listen, get down there and lick me clean. Then, you can leave. 
Your money's on the table, same as before. I'm in town two more days, maybe 
I'll call you again," he said. "For now, I need a nap. Damn, you're nice." He 
pulled down the covers, slid under them, and pulled them halfway up his legs. 
"Come on, clean me up." She bent down over him, took the limp member in her 
fingers. Her tongue slid lightly over the shaft, at the base, to the head, licking his 
cum and her cunt juices. After just a few minutes, she heard his breath go very 
slow and even.

 "Fuck you, asshole," she spat. He was asleep. He'd actually fallen asleep 
with her in the room, licking his dick clean. Stepping in the skirt and blouse, she 
watched him. She considered searching the room - for a wallet, for a laptop 
computer, for luggage, something more that she could use to get him to cut this 
out. A quick look around the room found nothing she could use and she was 
afraid that opening the drawers would wake him. Maybe next time.

Chapter 6

 On the windshield of the minivan, underneath the wiper blade, there was a 
note. It was in an envelope, standard #10 white, with nothing on the outside but 
the words "Read Me." She knew immediately who it was from and wondered 
how he'd got it there without her knowing. Before their session upstairs or after? 
Getting back to the car had taken a few extra minutes, hiding in the stairwell 
until the concierge again left his post. It must have been placed there after they'd 
finished, when she thought he was asleep. She opened the car door and slid into 
the driver's seat. Her hands were trembling slightly as she opened and read the 
note:

 "Your next assignment today is not scheduled until one o'clock, I hope you 
have a few minutes to enjoy yourself in between. I wouldn't recommend eating 
lunch. In the same hotel, you are to go to room 608 and service the person you 
find there. The charge will be the same, $200.00, and this time your name will 
be Cindy. Please do not get the names confused.

 "Before you go in, there are two things you are to do. There was a white 
thong in this box. Remove your stockings and put it on under your skirt. Also, 
make sure you brush your teeth. No one wants to smell another man's cum on 
his whore's breath."

 The last statement gave her a surprising rush. He'd clearly picked up on her 
need to be humiliated in the chats, this was a beautiful touch. Then, the fears 
came back. This was blackmail, not an affair. She closed her eyes and leaned her 
head back against the headrest. What kind of elaborate crap was this? He's 
rented two different rooms and is pretending to be two different people? Why? 
Elaborate games - the people online seemed to have wide ranging imaginations, 
but this was too much. And, how to get past the concierge? If he saw her go 
back in, he might call the police. She could rush upstairs to 608, but how would 
she get back out? There might be a back way, or maybe he'd be gone to lunch. If 
she could get past him on the way in, maybe getting back out wouldn't matter. 
He'd see she was leaving the building and figure, why bother?  It was all a 
jumble in her mind.

 Her watch said 12:45, she didn't have long to figure out a plan. She 
unwrapped the white thong, slid her panty hose off and tugged on the thong, 
pulling it tight between her ass cheeks like she'd seen in a movie once. One of 
the attendants was patrolling the parking garage. Diane waited until he'd gone 
past before she opened the car door. She walked back across the parking lot and 
down the street to the hotel.

 An airport shuttle had just arrived and there were dozens of people asking 
questions and shouting for luggage. The concierge was busy helping three or 
four of them, trying to keep them all calm while he did his best to hook them up 
with their baggage and arrange cabs for the ones who were going across town. 
When he had his back turned, she slid past, through the revolving doors, and 
into the lobby. There was a large group of people at the elevator, but when they 
saw her with no luggage, they let her squeeze into the open elevator car.

 "Sixth floor, please," she announced. Two other people got off the elevator 
on the sixth floor. She walked to the far end of the hall, then back again, waiting 
for them to go into their rooms before she looked for 608.

 When the hallway was empty, she knocked hard and said, "Hello?" She 
heard movement inside, then heard the doorknob turn.

+ + +

 In everyone's life, there are moments of revelation - moments when you 
understand an entire movie, or book, or the parameters of a relationship. For 
Diane Lawson, the opening of the door to room 608 was that moment. The door 
was opened by a woman. She looked to be in her mid-40's with long reddish 
hair, and wearing a plain white dress. Diane's heart sank. She tried to convince 
herself that she had the wrong room.

 "No, dear. You ARE Cindy, aren't you?" the woman inside asked.

 From behind her, a voice called, "Is that her? Tell her to get her ass in 
here!" Diane's knees went weak. That wasn't the voice from room 812. One of 
these was not the blackmailer. Then, she realized that perhaps neither this man 
nor the man in 812 was the blackmailer. She felt her body collapse.

+ + +

 There were two fingers inside her cunt when she woke up.

 "Hey, Donna, I think the slut's awake!" Diane opened her eyes slowly. She 
saw a man kneeling over her. She was inside the hotel room, on her back, on the 
carpet. Her knees were up and parted, skirt around her waist, and he was 
pushing his fingers up inside of her.

 "You were right, that did it," the woman said, walking across the room. She 
had a camera in her hand. She set the camera down on a table near the bed. "I'm 
surprised..." The man removed his fingers, wiped them on his pants, and stood 
up.

 "You take a pretty picture," he told her. "Come on, we'll get you a cold 
drink and you'll feel better." He extended a hand to her and pulled her to her 
feet. The woman gave her a disgusted look. She picked up the white thong from 
the dresser and threw it at Diane.

 "Put this back on." Diane felt the woman's disdain and felt her heart 
crumple under it.

 "Who are you two?"

 "What does that matter? You do your job, you get your money," the woman 
sneered. "Put the fucking thing back on!" She raised one leg then the other and 
stepped into the thong. She pulled it up into place while the woman stared. "You 
slut."

 "Hey, enough of that!" The man was back in the room with two glasses with 
ice and liquid in them. "Here, Coke for both of you."

 Diane accepted the drink and said, "thank you." The woman took hers and 
put it on the table.

 "So, what the hell was that all about? You pass out on your tricks often?"

 "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened," Diane lied.

 "Doesn't matter. It won't mess anything up. You were only out for about 
five minutes. I told my wife here that diddling your pussy would wake you up." 
The woman gave Diane another cold, disapproving look. "She thought that 
someone like you'd be numb down there after all the fucking you do. I told her 
she's being too hard on you, right?" He took a long drink from his glass. It was 
clearly Coke with something in it.

 "Why am I here?" Diane gathered the courage to ask.

 "Well, it's a long story," the woman started. "And one I'm probably going to 
live to regret."  She sat down on the edge of the bed. "My husband's been 
reading those Penthouse Letters books for years and years. Sometimes I browse 
through them. One day, he caught me reading one and we started down a whole 
line of conversation. Where we ended up is here, today, with you." Diane felt 
her fear rising again. Was she going to have to go down on this woman? It was 
something she'd never done and never would do. Unless she had to. Her head 
reeled.

 "And what am I supposed to do here, today?"

 "Luckily for you, not much. I don't want your streetwalking, disease 
infected mouth anywhere near me, and I'm sure not going to touch you. But, 
Carl and I have argued about whether sluts masturbate, whether they can 
actually make themselves cum, like so many of them do in the stories and 
movies. I made a deal with Carl. I told Carl here that I'll be satisfied to watch 
you masturbate to prove my point - which is that you can't.

 "Then, you're to give him his lifelong dream. He's always trying to get his 
cock up my ass, but I'm never going to let that happen. For the sake of the 
marriage, I finally figured I'd let him do it to someone else. But, I want to be 
there to watch to make sure there's nothing else going on."

 "So, you're expecting me to let you watch your husband fuck me up the 
ass?!" She stormed across the room to the door. "I'm not even going to let him 
fuck me up the ass, let alone let you watch it, do you understand? You two are 
sick!" Carl put down his drink and looked at her.

 "Sick or not, it's what you're paid to do. And the man I made the 
arrangements with guaranteed me that you'd do it. He said you'd know why." 
Diane shook with rage. Taking this stranger up her ass was not something she 
was going to allow. There had to be some way out of it. She took several deep 
breaths, then slowly walked back across the room. She moved her hips as she 
walked, watched his eyes take it all in.

 "I'm sorry, Carl. You're right, after all. I do have a job to do. And you know 
what? I'm betting that you..."

 "Hey, bitch, hold up!" It was his wife. She pointed a finger at Diane and 
yelled, "I want to see you get off first. I told him it was part of the deal. You 
first, then him." She crossed her arms and gave Diane a condescending look.

 "I can't just masturbate on command..." Diane tried. She knew it was feeble, 
but maybe the woman would let her off.

 "Hey, do what it takes. We've got time. I'm not sure if you do, I understand 
you have another appointment at three o'clock." Diane looked around the room 
again, there was no letter, no package, how could she know that and how was 
she supposed to know what was next? And why would she do it? Maybe she 
should bolt? Only a few seconds reflection and she rejected that possibility. The 
book would go in the mailbox, her life would be over. Her husband would 
certainly not do anything to prevent it from being exposed to the public once he 
knew about it...

 "Can I strip?" she asked.

 "Whatever it takes." She unbuttoned the blouse and pulled it over her head, 
then unsnapped the skirt. She was wearing only the thong underneath so she was 
naked in a matter of seconds. "The quicker the better, hm?  Getting naked? More 
tricks, more money for your pimp?" the woman chided.

 "Why don't you just quiet down and let me concentrate," Diane said. She 
wanted this over as quickly as it could me, maybe she'd just fake it. She ran her 
hands along her sides, then over her belly. As her right hand came up to her left 
nipple, she felt a rush between her legs. The woman's eyes stared right into hers. 
There was a defiance that passed between them and it turned Diane on. Her 
nipples stiffened immediately and she felt the wetness starting. She realized that 
she'd been masturbating online so much lately that it didn't take much to get her 
started. And that turned her on even more.

 In minutes, she was groaning and grinding her hips. The woman licked her 
lips and started unbuttoning her blouse. She pulled her shirt off and unsnapped 
her bra. She had large breasts that hung low, her nipples near her navel. While 
her eyes watched Diane, she started playing with herself through her skirt. Diane 
squatted to part her knees, pushed her fingers up inside herself. Her thumb 
touched her clitoris and she started rubbing. She opened her mouth and shoved 
her other hand into it, three fingers in and out, her tongue working on them like 
a cock head. In her brain passed scenes from several of her cybersex encounters, 
man after man fucking, sucking, and paying such attention to her, every part of 
her body being licked, stroked, touched, while they stood in line to shove their 
cocks into her mouth, belly, ass, pumping and stroking until they... She saw the 
woman stand up and come closer to her.

 "No, that isn't part of the deal,"  she objected.

 "Not part of the deal? You're a slut and you do what we pay you to do." The 
woman pressed her body against Diane, reaching around and grabbing her ass. 
Diane kept on finger fucking herself. The woman opened her mouth and put her 
lips against Diane's, but Diane turned her head. The woman stepped back and 
slapped her in the face.

 "You little tramp. I was right, you can't make yourself cum." She grabbed 
Diane's hands and pulled them away from her body. "Go on and get your ass 
fucked." Diane's body was screaming with frustration, she'd been so close, only 
another few seconds and she would have exploded. She knew that if she could 
get him to fuck her, she would cum and get the release she needed.

 "Carl, wouldn't you like a nice warm pussy to fuck?" she teased, running 
her hands up and down his back. She pressed her mouth against his face, but he 
wouldn't open his lips.

 "Get on your knees," he ordered.

 "Wait, what about fucking me like this, face to face? I can lick you, I can 
play with your balls..."

 "Get on your knees, what's the goddam problem here?" She put her hand 
between her legs, rubbed her cunt as she knelt down.

 "Get your hands out of there, you need them to support yourself like a dog 
on the rug," the wife ordered with obvious glee. Diane threw her a look that tried 
to kill but failed.  The woman calmly pulled her bra back on and snapped it in 
back. "I know what you want, but you can't have it."

 "Owww!" Diane cried as Carl forced his cock between her ass cheeks. He 
didn't slow down or lubricate himself.  She felt the burning pain as the cock 
head made it past the tight muscle, then kept going. He grabbed her hips at the 
waist and pulled her close until he was planted completely inside her ass.

 "You don't lube up in here, do you?" he asked with amazement.

 She was crying, managed to stammer out, "what do you mean?"

 "It's dry. I don't like it. It's not comfortable." She felt him yank his cock out, 
then saw him stand up. "Lick it to get it wet."

 "It's already been in my ass, you creep!" she shouted. "I'm not going to lick 
it!" He grabbed her by the hair and picked her up from the ground.

 "Then go get something to wash me up with, and do it quick." He let go and 
she collapsed on the floor. "Go on, now!" She pulled herself up and walked into 
the bathroom. On the way, she grabbed her purse. Now, she understood the KY 
lubricant in the package. How considerate of them, she thought with anger. 
There were gold knobs on the hot and cold water, a grim reminder of where she 
was. She turned the HOT knob on and reached for a washcloth. While the water 
was heating up, she twisted the top off the tube and squeezed some of the lube 
onto her fingers.

 "Hurry up!" came Carl's voice.

 "I don't want to wash you with cold water, do I?" she called back. She 
shoved her fingers tentatively around her asshole, then just the tips inside. She 
didn't know how the jelly should be applied, but smearing it around the rim 
would at least provide some relief. After a few minutes, she felt ready to go back 
into the room. She put on her softest voice and sexiest face.

 "Here we are, honey. Let me clean you up a bit." She pressed the warm 
washcloth against his cock and watched him roll his eyes. "This is going to be so 
wonderful for you. Have you ever fucked ass before?" She massaged the cloth 
slowly, hoping against hope to make him spill into her hands before he came to 
his senses.

 "Don't know, but I DO know what you're doing. Clean me and let's get on 
with this." She looked up and saw that his eyes were wide open and he was not 
looking happy. Diane finished cleaning his cock, then took the head into her 
mouth. She wanted to soak it as much as she could before he put it back into her. 
She felt her saliva glands working and was glad that her mouth wasn't going dry 
on her from fear. She realized that there was no way out - this man's cock was 
going to cum inside her ass. After a few minutes, she accepted her fate and was 
ready.

 "There we go, honey. Now, go on around to the back door, hmm?" She 
went on her hands and knees in front of him and raised her ass. He knelt down 
and pushed himself into her again. This time, she was ready and there was less 
pain. He groaned immediately, sank to the hilt, and pulled her close.

 "Oh, Helen, this is just like I thought it would be!" he cried to his wife. 
Diane wanted it to be over, so she began to rock back and forth. "Sit still! I want 
to feel this." She stopped moving. "That's so nice and tight. Why don't you 
twitch that sphincter for me?" She had a sick feeling - how long was this going 
to take? She squeezed for him and he let out a cry. "Ahhh! Heaven. Again." She 
did it again. When she released, he pulled out and slammed it home. "Now, 
every time I push, you squeeze, got it?"

 She doubted she could coordinate, doubted he'd notice, but said, "yes." He 
pulled himself back, nearly popping out, but then reamed it deep into her again. 
She groaned, it was starting to hurt.

 "Snap that ass, bitch!" he ordered. She did and he pulled out again. He 
fucked her over and over, she could tell he was going as deep as he could, 
sometimes he noticed when she would squeeze, sometimes he didn't. She was 
crying, wishing she could touch herself, or that he would just do the slighty 
mercy of reaching around underneath her and help her get off. But she couldn't 
and he didn't.

 "How's she look, hon?" Carl yelled to his wife.

 "Like she's taking a beating," she replied.

 "She is. Carl's Big Love Monster is doing her for everything she's worth! 
Ya hoo!" Over and over he pulled and pushed, going hard against her bowels 
and hanging onto her hair like he was riding a pony. She sobbed and cried, the 
tears streaming down her face, her neck, dropping onto her hands there on the 
floor under her. Finally, he gave out a yell and pushed harder than before. He 
unloaded his cum into her asshole, shaking himself up and down, nearly 
toppling them both. When he was done, he pulled out and lay back on the floor.

 "Clean me up," he ordered. She wiped her face with her hands, reached for 
the washcloth. He lay there watching her as she gently wiped his cock and balls 
clean of his cum, her saliva, the lube, and dried bits of shit from her asshole. 
When she was finished, she stood up and walked toward the bathroom.

 "Where are you going?" his wife asked.

 "To clean up," Diane answered feebly.

 "I don't think so. I never heard of that, and I'm not interested in your slut 
germs all over my bathroom. Put on your clothes and get out of here."

 "Can I at least wash my face?"

 "Did you hear me? Pick up your clothes and get out of here. Take the 
money, it's on the table by the door." She pulled on the thong, feeling the cum 
and shit dripping into the tiny piece of fabric. She pulled on her skirt, shoes, and 
blouse and walked to the door. There was a small mirror on the back of the door. 
What she saw there shocked her. She'd wore only light mascara, so there were 
no black rivers running down her face, but her hair was completely wild and her 
eyes were red and puffy from crying through the ordeal.

 "Good bye, Cindy," the wife called. Diane picked up the money, opened the 
door, and walked out into the hall.

Chapter 7

 Diane stood there in the hall, wobbly kneed, for several minutes after the 
door closed behind her. She was in hell. Pure hell. The blackmailer might be 
either or none of the people she'd been with today, or all three of them - he'd 
said "we" last time. Her stomach was in a knot and she knew she was going to 
throw up. Her eyes darted up and down the hall, hoping without hope for a 
public bathroom. Hotels did not have bathrooms on the upper floors, maybe she 
could make it to the first floor... but then there was the concierge.

 The Palmer House was a popular place for conventions and meetings. There 
were meeting rooms on the 2nd and 3rd floors, there would probably be a public 
bathroom there. She made it to the stairwell, supporting herself with one hand 
along the wall, and pushed open the door. On the 3rd floor, she saw the women's 
room right across from the stairway door. Inside, she immediately headed for a 
stall, locked the door behind her, and sat on the toilet. She put her head down 
between her knees and started sobbing.

 Everything was going to be shit from now on. He'd probably fuck her again 
tomorrow and the next day and the next day... The familiar feeling of nausea 
came on her quickly. She stood up, spun around and dropped to her knees. Just 
in time, she leaned her head over the opening and retched several times, 
bringing up breakfast, dinner from the night before, and anything else that was 
down there mixing with the Coke and cum from Hardy this morning and Carl 
this afternoon.

+ + +

 After nearly twenty minutes, she felt composed enough to face the mirror. 
She opened the door to the stall and walked to the sinks. There was plenty of 
cold water and she let it run for several minutes before soaking one of the hand 
towels in it. She opened the towel and pressed it to her face, covering everything 
and letting the coolness soak away the tears. She re-wet the towel again with hot 
water and pressed it hard against her eyes and cheeks. Then, again. It felt 
wonderful. The towel was an escape, it reconnected her with the world at home, 
where none of this was happening - where none of it was even conceivable.

 The toothbrush and toothpaste were still in her purse. She took them out and 
scrubbed her mouth again several times. She felt like it made some kind of 
difference. Adjusting her blouse and skirt, running her fingers through her hair 
several times, she was finally prepared to go out into the hotel. She'd mapped 
out an escape route, if she came down the stairwell instead of the elevator, she'd 
be close enough to the exit that she could probably make it without the 
concierge spotting her.

 The tall man with the red hat was leaning down examining a map with a 
customer when she opened the stairwell door, he stayed focused on the map 
until after she left. She felt relieved that she'd made it by him once more, then 
felt angry that she'd had to.

+ + +

 That night, there was no email from SumwonElz. She wondered if that was 
it, if he'd finished with her. Her excitement grew every minute she stayed online 
and he didn't appear. She cruised several rooms at random, reading about the 
news events of the day, people asking to buy magazines and cars, and retelling 
sports stories. Some IMs came in from people who read her ID or profile as an 
open invitation. Often, it was, but not tonight. Tonight, she was enjoying a kind 
of anonymity.

 The second night, still no contact. She felt no desire to enter any of the chat 
rooms she used to haunt, not even any curiosity to answer any of the Ims she 
received. Even from one who was an "old friend under another name". Two 
more nights - the weekend - passed by with no contact. She began to feel that 
whoever it was had lost interest. Perhaps this was such a lucrative field - 
blackmailing women who have sex chats - that he moved on from one to another 
rapidly. Perhaps looking for a supermodel with a nighttime addiction...

 The following Monday, the family went out to a movie. It was another 
action-adventure flick, big budget and little plot. They were home by ten 
o'clock. She knew that her husband might want her and she was more than ready 
for some old-fashioned cuddling. Even thought the blackmail had happened only 
last week, it was beginning to fade from her mind. She knew she would never 
tell him and it seemed that he had no clue. Of course, he would have no reason.

 They both dressed in their pajamas. The overhead light was out and only the 
lamps on the night tables gave the room a dim light.

 "I have something for you," he announced softly.

 "Really?" she asked.

 "Really. I picked it up over the weekend, but you seemed a bit distracted so 
I held on to it until today." From the top drawer of his night table, he took a 
small package. It was wrapped in gold paper with a red bow. She kissed him and 
took it in her hand. Untying the bow, she ripped the paper and opened the 
package. Inside was a small picture frame with a picture of their two children 
inside.

 "It's beautiful - you remembered?"

 "I did. It's been months, I've been waiting for the right time. So, I bought it 
Saturday, but, like I said, the right time didn't seem to be until now..."

 "Oh, it's perfect," she said. She placed the frame on her night table, then 
rolled over and pressed against him. She kissed him and whispered, "thank you."

 He whispered back, "thank me." It was a kind of ritual they'd developed, a 
way for either of them to say what they wanted without saying it. She reached 
her hand underneath the covers, slid it down his belly and under the elastic waist 
band of his pajama bottoms. His cock was already stiff, the head slightly wet.

 "You've been thinking about this a while, haven't you?" she asked with a 
grin. He rose on his knees and let her position herself underneath him.

 "You're irresistible," he answered. He supported himself on his arms and 
waited for her to take off her clothes. He liked her naked underneath him, 
though he rarely removed anything he was wearing. His cock poked out the 
crotch of the pajamas, but, other than that, he was fully clothed.

 Diane had the role down from years of practice. She slid quickly out of her 
pajamas, knew that he might lose interest and that would be it for another week 
or another month. And, did her best to recreate an erotic chat in her mind. He 
wasn't going to kiss, fondle, touch, or tease her and wouldn't let her touch 
herself while they fucked. She'd tried dozens of ways to bring herself to orgasm 
when he fucked her, but it was rare. There was so little to work with.

 This time, she heard a low moan come out of her throat and felt herself 
damp, wetter than usual. Her nipples were stiff, she felt them rub against the 
fabric of his clothes. To her shock, she found that she was running the encounter 
with Carl through her mind. Waking up with his hand between her legs was one 
of the hottest things she could find in her sexual memory. Then, making her 
brace herself on her hands and knees, giving no thought at all to what was going 
on for her, using her as an orifice and nothing more...

 "What the hell's the matter with you?" It was Jim. She opened her eyes and 
saw the intense look of disapproval on his face. He'd stopped fucking her but her 
hips continued to grind against him. "Stop that, what the hell's wrong with you?" 
he demanded. "You're doing it like a goddamned whore." Tears welled in her 
eyes.

 "I'm sorry dear, it's just that you were really getting to me, turning me on." 
She reached up and caressed his face in her hands. "Sometimes, it's just too 
much for me, the way you do it." He stared at her. She was not certain what he 
was thinking, but she was desperate for him to start fucking her again. Maybe 
she would get off this time.

 "Well, you're going to wake Sarah and then what? Maybe we'd just better 
stop this." He started to withdraw.

 "Oh, God Jim, please.  I...I want to make you feel good," she begged, 
hoping he would not lose interest or start talking. She raised her head and kissed 
him. He responded, moving his cock slowly into her again. She tried to 
concentrate, tried to let her body have its orgasm without quivering or shaking 
so much he objected again.

 "I really love the way you are, you know," she whispered in his ear. She 
knew that the longer she could work his ego, the more time she had to bring 
herself off. "So strong, so firm, so sure of yourself..." He humped her hard, he 
always got out of rhythm early on, but this time, she kept up with him, raising 
her hips so he'd fuck deeper. Her orgasm was building and she saw the white 
explosions starting beneath her eyelids. "You're my Man of Steel, my knight in 
shining armor..." She strained to keep her body from going out of control, trying 
to have the orgasm without the thrashing she desperately wanted. He unloaded 
his cum into her, then stopped and pulled himself out abruptly.

 "That was wonderful, dear," he said. She felt his hands under the covers, 
tucking his penis into the pajama bottoms and buttoning them back up. "Thank 
you. Sweet dreams." As he rolled over to sleep, she rolled on her side and 
pressed the pillow against her mouth, screaming silently, tears streaming down 
her face.

+ + +

 - SumwonElz: How was it?
 - SubDiane: How was what?
 - SumwonElz: Have you heard about those listening devices the military 
has? The ones you sometimes see in spy magazines or TV detective shows? You 
can listen into a whispered conversation through a window at 300 yards. I 
bought it Saturday, I've been waiting for the right time...
 - SubDiane: You bastard.
He couldn't have. Yet, there was no way he could have guessed what Jim had 
said. The monster was stalking her. This was worse than she could have 
imagined.
 - SumwonElz: Whatever. Anyway, back to the question: How was it?
How to escape this? What could she do to find him?
 - SumwonElz: Are you going to answer, or should I?
If he was still outside, she might spot his car. Would he still be sitting there, the 
listening device out the window like a cheap TV show?
 - SumwonElz: I guess you are not going to answer. Perhaps a bit 
embarrassed. He didn't last very long.

 She ran from the library to their bedroom. It faced the front of the house. 
She parted the curtains but there were no cars on the street in either direction. If 
he'd been there, he was gone.  Angry, she walked down the hall, back to the 
library, back to the computer.

 - SumwonElz: Let me guess, are you looking for me outside? You know I 
won't be there. How would I be that stupid, to let you see me? The game would 
lose all its fun. Besides, do you want to know something? Are you there?

 Feeling hopeless and defeated, she decided to answer.

 - SubDiane: Yes, I'm here.
 - SumwonElz: It wasn't me listening in. It was someone I hired.

Her heart sank.

 - SubDiane: That's dangerous. Now, he knows where I live. What if he 
comes back - does something? You're an accomplice.
 - SumwonElz: Don't worry about that. I screen my people very carefully.
 - SubDiane: You're dangerous and stupid.
 - SumwonElz: Perhaps. That remains to be seen, I suppose. Are you ready?
 - SubDiane: Ready for what?
 - SumwonElz: We're going to take advantage of all that sexual tension you 
built up earlier, tonight with James.

Fingers trembling, she typed her answer:

 - SubDiane: I have no choice, do I?

Chapter 8

 Diane looked around the room again, the door was closed, the curtains were 
drawn, and it was dark except for the glow from the monitor.

 - SubDiane: I'm here.
 - SumwonElz: I know. I am in no rush.
 - SubDiane: You know it's after midnight.
 - SumwonElz: Yes. Does that mean something special to you?
 - SubDiane: Only that I have to get some sleep.
 - SumwonElz: That's something we're going to have to talk about. There are 
two things I will say on the subject and no more. First, you are ours. Twenty 
four hours a day. When you sleep is not our concern. Our concern is twofold: 
whom you fuck and how your descent into sexual slavery is handled. Second, 
you are certainly aware that sleep deprivation is a common way of assuring 
cooperation.
 - SubDiane: You already have my cooperation.
 - SumwonElz: We like assurance. No more will be said on this subject.

A knot formed in her stomach, her hands trembled, and she felt a sweat 
beginning underneath her armpits.  She looked at the clock:  12:17 a.m.

 - SumwonElz: Is everything clear so far?
 - SubDiane: Yes.
 - SumwonElz: Good. Now, remind me of the instructions in the first story 
you posted
 - SubDiane: I don't recall
 - SumwonElz: Oh, how sad. I recall that you were given a street corner to 
drive to, then instructed to call a number from a pay phone, isn't that right?
 - SubDiane: Yes
 - SumwonElz: Then what?
 - SubDiane: I was instructed to unbutton my blouse, standing there on that 
corner
 - SumwonElz: Good - your memory is returning. So, go on
 - SubDiane: There wasn't much more to the story
 - SumwonElz: that isn't what I meant.

Diane's eyes grew wide. He was suggesting she act out the story. It was after 
midnight, there would be minimal chance of anyone seeing her. Or would they 
arrange something?

 - SubDiane: The same corner? "Member is not currently logged on"

She clicked "Sign Off", reset the Login Name, then turned off the monitor and 
went to the door.  Drive to her bank at 12:30 in the morning and stand on the 
corner with her breasts exposed. He hadn't said how long. How long had it been 
in her story? Maybe she should sign on and check. No, there was no time limit, 
only as long as the woman on the phone told her. Should she look for the phone 
number? No, they'd created a nonsense number.

 Ten minutes later, she was on the road. She'd gone back into her room and 
put on a running bra. With her blouse open and the running bra underneath, any 
taxi driver or late-night worker who drove by would get an interesting eyefull 
but nothing obscene. She'd agreed with herself she'd stay there for five minutes, 
that was about how long it was in the story.

 As the minivan approached the intersection, she looked up and down the 
roads in both directions. No cars parked, nothing coming. It was not a busy part 
of town and she didn't expect much traffic at that late hour. She pulled the van 
up near the telephone stand and shifted into Park. With the engine off, she 
opened the door and stepped out into the street. Sure enough, no traffic. The 
streetlight was nearly overhead. That would be a problem if someone drove by, 
but it was unlikely. With nervous fingers, she unbuttoned her blouse from the 
neck to the waist. It was still tucked into her skirt. She didn't spread the lapels 
wide, he'd given no specific instructions.

 "Clap! Clap! Clap!" Diane spun around, shocked, and saw a man standing 
in the shadowy doorway of her bank. He'd been in the far corner and she didn't 
see him as she walked up. Now, he stepped into the light.

 "You've done nicely, treading that line between compliance and defiance. I 
give you credit. They're going to really enjoy breaking you." A look of panic 
came over her face, she bolted for the minivan. He was close and reached out, 
caught her wrist. "Did you forget what's at stake? Or maybe you don't know the 
latest. Carl got his pictures back." He let go of her arm and reached for her 
blouse. After pulling the front open, he pulled the stretch bra up over her breasts, 
exposing them to the night.

 "Nice." He stared at her for several seconds, then ran his hands over them, 
one at a time and slowly. "There's something we thought you'd like to see..." He 
handed her a series of pictures. Carl must have taken them when she passed out 
in the hotel room. Diane with arms above her head, skirt pulled up, legs spread. 
Diane with Carl kneeling beside her, hand and mouth posed to look like a blow 
job. Diane on top of Carl. Even one in which she looked to be going down on 
Carl's wife. You couldn't tell from the photos that she had been unconscious at 
the time.

 "No, you didn't need these," she cried, her eyes watering. "Why did he have 
to take these?" A dark blue panel van rolled up the street and stopped at the curb 
beside them. The side door slid open and two men dressed in black stepped out. 
Diane's eyes grew wide with fear and she tried to turn and run. But the man with 
the photos grabbed her hair and the other two took her by her arms and legs and 
carried her, kicking and squirming, to the van. The door slid closed, locked, and 
the van sped away. The floor of the van was covered with a mattress, several 
pillows and beer cans were thrown around. There was a dim light coming from 
somewhere overhead.

 "We have to deliver you somewhere. Why don't you just relax and enjoy the 
ride. Be nice to us and you might get home early and get some rest tonight. 
How's that sound?" The blackmail would have been enough, but Diane knew 
that she might be in real danger if she resisted three men. One of the men sat 
down in front of her and spread his feet so she was sitting between them. Diane 
reached for him and unzipped his pants. She fished out his cock and started 
sucking it.

 "I wasn't going to ask for that, but I guess you're kinda eager," he said. The 
three of them laughed. She tried to pull her head back, but he pushed it down. 
She felt another of them sliding his hand over her ass.

 "This is nice. Really clean, she must be new." His fingers scratched her 
cheeks, then he slid his finger over the front of her slacks, feeling for her cunt 
lips. The arousal from earlier tonight came back. She'd built herself up laying 
under Jim but hadn't finished. Her body was already primed. The blackmailer 
had probably counted on that. The van came to a stop. She heard the driver get 
out and heard his feet on the pavement as he walked around the van. The big 
side door slid open.

 "Get out," he ordered. The man inside pulled his cock out of her mouth and 
helped her out the door. They were in the parking lot of a Motel 6. One of them 
took her by the hand and led her into the lobby. "Wait here. Answer the pay 
phone when it rings." The man walked back to the van and got in.  The driver 
sped off, leaving her stranded and waiting. She looked around and saw a sign. 
She was at a Motel 6 was on E. Ontario Ave. That put her a safe distance from 
home, a bit north of town and near the water. There was some small comfort in 
the fact that they were not meeting right in her own neighborhood. But, how 
would she get home?

 This is insane, she thought to herself. Why don't I call the police? Maybe 
they could help convince Jim that this was all a frame-up. Or, just tell him "no". 
What's the worst that would happen. Divorce? It was a terrible thought, the kids 
without them together, but they were old enough, they could take it. There 
would be no criminal charges, she continued. Just the recriminations, the look 
on the faces of Jim and the kids. Who else? Who else would see those chat logs 
and Carl's photos? They could make their way into the newspapers, into porn 
magazines. The blackmailers could post the photos on the internet. She would 
never be able to work again, who would marry her? Who would take her in? The 
jarring sound of the pay phone broke her train of thought. She watched the clerk 
watch her as she stood up to answer it.

 "You expecting a call?" he yelled.

 "I am, actually. Thank you," she said, turning her back and trying to avoid 
him.

 "This isn't a public phone booth, you know," he called. She picked up the 
phone and ignored him.

 "Hello Diane," said a woman's voice on the other end.  "Nice to see you."

 "What do you want?" she snapped.

 "Oh, be nice honey, it will make things easier on you. We want you to go 
up to room 216 on the second floor, knock on the door and just see what 
happens."

 "What kind of game..."

 "click" The phone was dead. She looked at the clerk who was staring at her, 
the put the phone back on its hook. She walked out without saying anything to 
him. The stairs to the second floor were halfway down the length of the 
building. She walked it without looking around, intent on getting this over with. 
There were a dozen or so stairs she had to climb to get to the second level. 
Room 216 was to the left and halfway down. "Knock, knock!" her knuckles 
rapped at the door. It was unlocked and she pushed it open. The lights were out 
and it was quiet. Slowly, she stepped inside.

 "Close the door behind you," she heard a voice say. It was too dark to tell 
where it was coming from, other than that it was ahead of her. She pushed the 
door closed and the room was nearly black. "Walk forward." She put her hand 
out in front of herself and stepped forward slowly, feeling the carpet under her 
feet.

 There was a bright light that flashed and blinded her. She raised her arm to 
protect her eyes but heard a stern "no" from somewhere in the room. She put her 
arms at her sides. Hands grabbed each of her arms and she was led forward, 
turned to the left, and walked forward again. Her eyes were closed against the 
glare. Someone pressed something warm against her eyelids, then tied it into 
place with a blindfold. She couldn't open her eyes at all, it was something warm 
and soft, probably intended to keep her from peeking out the bottom of the 
blindfold. She felt the heat of the lamp near her face disappear and the hands 
released her arms.

 "OK, Diane. Strip." The voice came from her left and close. There seemed 
to be at least 3 people in the room. The voice didn't sound like Carl, or any of 
the men from the van. She couldn't be sure, though. "Was there something 
confusing about that order?" This voice from directly behind her.

 "Uh, no.  I...you don't want..." A hand was pressed over her mouth.

 "We don't have any intention of gagging you, but we will if you don't stop 
talking. Understood?" She nodded. "Good." The hand was removed. Diane 
unsnapped her pants and slid them down around her feet. Then, she pulled the 
sweater over her head. She threw the sweater to the ground and slid her arms out 
of the bra straps. Pulling it around to the front, she undid the clasp. She felt a 
slight chill as her breasts came free. Then, she stepped out of the pants and 
kicked them to the side. She stood with her arms at her sides and feet just 
slightly apart, like a soldier at ease.

 "The panties are an exception of some kind?" A woman's voice, to the left 
and behind. Her eyes watered again as she realized her helplessness in the 
situation. She reached down and slid the panties over her ass, down her legs, 
then stepped out of them and threw them in the direction of the voice. There 
were several chuckles she heard from various points around the room. She 
stopped her mind from trying to count the sources.

 "OK, well, Roger, why don't you go ahead?" someone said.

 "With pleasure," came another. She felt "Roger" take her hand and lead her 
a few steps deeper into the room. Then, stood in front of her and reached for her 
waist. Something pressed against her back as he pushed her gently. Hands 
clasped each of her wrists and they raised her arms about shoulder width high. 
They were pressed back and she realized she was standing against a wooden 
cross of some sort. She felt ropes passing over each of her wrists. They were 
going to tie here there! She struggled, but the ropes had already been tied.

 The hands released her, then she felt them at her ankles. Her legs were 
spread apart about the width of her arms. Her legs were pressed back against 
wooden beams as well and the ropes were secured around her ankles. Someone 
standing in front of her took hold of her hips and pushed her up and down 
against the main beam. She was able to traverse nearly a foot if she bent her 
knees and stretched her arms slightly. The hands let go.

 There was no movement or sound in the room. She waited for someone to 
touch her. What would it be?  Were they going to screw her? Photograph her? 
Had they read some of the stories and gotten the idea of hitting her? No one 
moved. She didn't hear any whispering, only a soft breath every now and then 
from some corner of the room. It went on like this for a long, long time. 
Thoughts ran through her head. Were they making a videotape? Were they 
doing this to see how she would react? Was there a reaction they were after?

 "So, what is the general consensus?" a voice broke into the silence.

 "Well, it's clear that you've got her hooked. She hasn't said no to anything 
yet, and if she was going to resist, it would have happened earlier. Now, we 
have pictures and videotape as well as those chat logs."

 "Yes, she's hooked, but can she do the work?"

 "She's done fine so far." Diane counted at least three different voices, two 
male, one female. None of them were familiar, so Carl and the others weren't 
part of this group. "Diane, just for your information, it is very unusual for us to 
send someone out on assignments this early in the game.  We found ourselves 
short on a few calls and you were next in line. You comported yourself well. I 
expected as much, you fit the profile so well. Curious housewife, minor sexual 
frustration, nothing that would prompt you to sleep around, but pronounced 
enough that we could find and press that particular button..." Her head was 
spinning. "The work?" "This early in the game?" "Short on a few calls?" What 
were they running and how did she fit into it?

 "We would introduce ourselves, but have found in the past that it's better for 
you not to know our names, or even how many of us there are. It seems to keep 
you more disoriented, more compliant. Never knowing whether convincing one 
or two of us to turn on the others might be enough. Not knowing which wields 
the actual power and which we are letting sit in just as observers.

 "Oh, yes, there are, and will be, observers. In fact, one of the men you've 
had chats with is in the room right now. We had him contact you early on, you 
were involved in several chats with him, rather racy ones, I might add. We bring 
them in from time to time, ones who might or might not have been in our 
original group. It adds to the fascination for them. And we make a ton of money 
off of it." So they were pimps, selling her for money. Nothing more, nothing 
less. They used the Internet to make the connections, gather the information, 
then used blackmail to procure their whores.

 "There may be times tonight when we want you to answer questions. For 
that, you can refer to us by numbers. I am One."

 "I am Two."

 "Three," a woman's voice, soft.

 "Four."

 "And that's all you need for now," One said.

Chapter 9

 "Now that you have some names to hang onto, let's take a look at you," said 
Three. She heard shuffling, they were moving around her, saying nothing. Then, 
they sat back down. "Not bad for a 38 year old Wonder Bread mom. Not the 
measurements you posted on AOL, but still, respectable."

 "I don't like her tits," said Four.

 "Doesn't matter. We're not doing anything surgical this time," said Three, 
sternly.

 "Well, let's at least get her into a gym!"

 "I agree, she's not in very good shape at all. Too many PTA meetings and 
ice cream socials. You need to drop at least 20 pounds."

 "All right, then it's agreed," announced One. "The gym, daily at first, then 
perhaps it can taper off. Diane, do you have a membership anywhere?"

 "No," she said quietly.

 "All right. We want you at D--- Gym tomorrow morning signing up for a 
membership. Several of us work out there, and that will give us a way to make 
sure you're coming along quickly enough.  What we want is ..." They outlined a 
program to her, parts of her body they wanted "improved":  her breasts should 
hang in a particular way which they demonstrated by raising her soft flesh with 
their hands, her thighs should be a bit thinner, her ass firmer, her belly flatter. 
She half-listened, angry that they were treating her like an animal, discussing 
grooming tips.

 "You do not need to shave your cunt hairs. Keep your underarms and legs 
clean at all times. Your color will be plum. Lightly rouge your nipples and color 
your eyelids for all assignments.  Clothes will be assigned on a case by case 
basis. Your default uniform will be a plum colored, knee length dress, button 
front, pleated skirt, garter belt and plum colored stockings underneath. Iron 
bracelets and necklace, we'll provide those."

 "You will want to keep a small purse with your things. Keep the toothbrush 
and toothpaste and KY jelly with you at all times."

 "Yes, you might be called on to fuck someone at almost any time of the day 
or night." The words circled around inside her head until they got too loud. She 
screamed at them.

 "This is crazy! You're all crazy! I could get killed, raped, murdered, I could 
get AIDS, VD, anything! You have to let me out of this!"

 "No, we don't."

 "What if something happens!??"

 "You understand, don't you, that this isn't our concern?"

 "But...but, if I'm dead, I can't bring in any money for you!" she tried in a 
desperate attempt at reason.

 "We make extra money for an unprotected fuck. You might try some of 
those experimental creams that are supposed to kill virus, but they must be 
undetected by the customer. This is completely your concern." She leaned her 
head down again and cried. They were insane, they could kill her. She could 
bring a disease back into the house. There had to be some way out. She couldn't 
imagine what it might be.

 "Do you understand the instructions about the gym?"

 "YES!" she yelled. "You assholes want me to look like the teenage fantasy 
girls on the TV commercials!!!"

 "No, Diane, don't be stupid. We know better. We just want you to have a 
body like theirs. I don't think anyone really cares what you look like." She 
collapsed again, sobbing deeply. Three continued talking.

 "You also might want to consider some different size dildos for your 
asshole. There are plenty of them who are going to pay extra to use you that way 
and it's in your own interest to widen yourself just a bit." She said it all so 
nonchalantly, Diane knew she was lost. This was the woman making the 
suggestion. Had she been through it before? Was she trying to be helpful?

 "Diane, is this all clear?" Two asked.

 "Y...yes..." she muttered between sobs. Everyone was quiet and remained 
quiet for several minutes. She felt the tears dripping down her cheeks, a drop of 
snot hung from the end of her nose. They were not talking to her or among 
themselves. What were they doing? Just staring? Drinking? Writing notes? She 
heard the water running in the bath tub. There was the sound of dripping, then 
more water running. It stopped. The room remained quiet again. She heard 
shuffling on the carpet. Someone was getting closer.

 "Ooh!" she jumped as something touched her cunt lips. At the same time, 
something warm was being pressed into her armpits, more around her neck, and 
she felt lips wrapping around several of her fingers. Lips sucked on her nipples. 
A tongue was flicking lightly at her clitoris. The pressure at her cunt increased 
and she felt what must have been a dildo sliding into her. Something warm was 
being wrapped around her calves and there were tongues sliding up and down 
her thighs.

 Her body responded instantly. The juices started flowing between her legs 
and her mouth opened, ready for whatever they had in mind. No one attempted 
to do anything other than build her further toward climax. She squatted as well 
as she could, giving the dildo room to work up inside of her. She was panting 
heavily and encouraging them to go on, go on, go on.

 The warm feelings, she realized, were damp towels. She had never felt it 
before, loved it. The tongues were eager and slid over her body, bringing every 
nerve alive. The white lights started to pop before her eyes. She felt her orgasm 
coming.

 "Don't stop now," a voice said. "I've got the machine ready. Get her closer." 
Panic spread through Diane's brain. What machine? Was it connected with the 
dampness of the towels? Horror gripped her as she remembered stories of torture 
with electric wires and water. The feelings were confusing her brain - terror, 
lust, fear, desire.

 "She's ready. Set up the mount." The mouths, fingers, towels, everything 
left.

 "No! No!" she screamed. There as a chill over her body as the damp spots 
cooled. Her hips were still sliding up and down against the beam. Between her 
legs, she felt something moving round. A loud "snap" noise told her that they'd 
connected something to the main post of the beam. More motion down there and 
a dildo was slid inside her again. Then, she heard a vibrator turn on. The 
motorized bullet pressed against the outside of her cunt, just below her clitoris. 
Someone removed the headphones.

 "All yours, honey. The camera's rolling and we're all waiting. We want to 
see you cum."

 "No, no, no," she cried. Tears rolled down her cheeks but the lust in her 
body overrode the humiliation in her brain. She pressed her hips forward, eager 
for the vibrator. It sent a charge through her entire body. Then, she started 
pushing herself up and down, forcing the dildo deep into her, then back out 
again. It was wonderful. The dildo was made of a thick rubber, wide but not too 
wide. She loved it.

 "Ah, yes, yes, yes," she was screaming, oblivious to the camera and the 
audience but aware of them at the same time. The orgasm built quickly and she 
was thrashing back and forth, her head hurling from side to side, her hair flying. 
She felt pain as the dildo went too deep, she had to control herself, but couldn't. 
She pushed down again and felt the sharp pain while the orgasm flooded over 
her at the same time.

 "OOOOOOHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" she screamed. She 
held her hips steady against the vibrator. Her hips shook in short, quick spasms 
for a long, long time as she tried to build up to a second one. When it came, she 
threw her head forward and back, hitting it hard against the post. She pressed it 
hard against the wood, pushed her knees back flatter and let the vibrator drive 
her over the brink again and again.

 "OK, I'd say that's about enough," the voice said. She collapsed against the 
support, her entire body limp and exhausted. They removed the dildo from its 
mount and pulled it gently from inside her. She was panting heavily. She felt a 
thin line of saliva drip from her mouth, down her chin, and onto her chest. She 
wondered how long she'd been drooling.

 The door to the hotel room opened and she heard people shuffling past her, 
exiting. A few touched her, weighing a breast, pinching a nipple, or petting her 
head. One person kissed her. She didn't know if it was a man or a woman. They 
kissed deeply for several seconds, then the person moved on. The door closed 
again and it was quiet in the room. She wondered if she was alone.  They 
couldn't leave her alone! Who would find her? The maid? Security? Some 
stranger would find her naked and tied to a wooden crossbeam in a cheap hotel 
room in Chicago?

 "Hello?" she called out. There was no answer. She strained at the ropes 
around her wrists. They had a little give to them. She'd read before about escape 
artists and tried to lay her wrist flat against the wood. She could slide it nearly, 
but not quite, out of the rope. She tried her other arm. The same.

 "Hey, is anyone in here?" she called again. "This isn't funny."

 "We're here. Just enjoying your helplessness.

 "Fascinating, isn't it? One day, you're exploring domination fantasies in the 
relative safety of the online world with complete strangers. Next day, you're 
naked in a hotel room being filmed for dozens of them to jack off to. Funny how 
things work out, isn't it?" It was One's voice. Someone was untying the ropes 
from around her ankles. She didn't move her feet when she was free, waited 
until her arms were untied.

 "Are you SumwonElz?" she asked as she rubbed her wrists.

 "Do you seriously expect me to answer that?" he replied.

 "What now?" she asked, knowing it was useless to pursue the other 
question.

 "Now, you go home and take a nap. I expect you're pretty tired." She heard 
footsteps on the carpet heading for the door. "Leave the blindfold on the bed. 
Clean up. Feel free to nap here if you like, you're perfectly safe. We'll be back 
after six to remove the equipment." The door opened, there were footsteps 
leaving, then it slammed closed.

 Diane removed the blindfold, peeled the damp tissue from her eyes, and 
looked around the room. There were three of four folding chairs, some 
magazines and some empty glasses. The  apparatus she'd been tied to was an 
elaborate device. Besides the parts she'd been secured to, she saw there were a 
variety of eyebolts and buckles running up and down the middle beam and the 
arm and leg beams. It looked well worn, she wondered how old it was and how 
many other women had been used on it. Her clothes were around the room 
where she'd dropped or thrown them. On the bed was a boom box with the 
headphones still attached. Beside it were several audio tapes. She wondered 
which ones she was on.

Chapter 10

 Diane rolled over in bed and reached for the telephone.

 "Hello..." she barely mumbled from the fog of her half-sleep.

 "You sound horrible, do you have a cold?" She sat upright in the bed, ran 
her fingers through her hair.

 "Jim?"

 "Yes. You sound like you just woke up. Are you all right?"

 "I'm OK. I don't know what came over me, I was just so exhausted last 
night..."

 "Well, how long were you awake?"

 "What do you mean?"

 "Well, I know you took a shower, the towels were damp and you left the 
cap off the toothpaste."

 "Yes, yes, I just couldn't sleep, so I woke up...you know, I thought...that a 
hot bath would do me some good."

 "Well, it's kind of unlike you to have trouble sleeping. I hope nothing's 
wrong. Maybe you should go to the doctor."

 "No, no, I'm fine. I think it was just something I ate..."

 "OK. Well, I was calling to tell you I'd be a little late tonight, not later than 
seven or eight. You two feel free to have dinner without me, just keep 
something warm."

 "All right. Thanks for calling." Diane put the phone back on its base and fell 
back into bed. The pillow felt good. There were only a few things that had to be 
done today, maybe she could get in another hour or two of sleep. Something was 
nagging at the back of her head. Was there something else in yesterday's email? 
No, that wasn't it. She closed her eyes and tried to get comfortable, but didn't 
feel sleep coming on. She was still exhausted from yesterday, her muscles were 
sore and her wrists were tender. But she was still distracted by something else 
she couldn't ignore.

 Ten minutes later, she gave up. Sleep wasn't going to come, her body didn't 
realize it was tired. Or, she was feeling nervous and just not admitting it. What 
was bothering her? She got up out of bed and walked to the bathroom. Turned 
on the hot water and washed her face, then brushed her teeth and ran the comb 
through her hair a few times. No reason to take another shower, the first one was 
just a few hours ago. The clock read 11 a.m. She knew what was bothering her. 
She had to check the IN box.

+ + +

 "You were not at the gym this morning. This requires an explanation. This 
afternoon at one, I want to see you at the Erotic Warehouse bookstore 
downtown. Meet in the back near the booths. Bring two rolls of quarters. Wear 
your everyday uniform."

 Diane realized that the 'everyday uniform' would mean a shopping trip. 
Where would she find a dress that fit that description and be ready in two hours? 
A panic set in. Perhaps something close would be good enough. With a quick 
shower and a trip to the mall, she could probably make one o'clock. But just 
barely.

+ + +

 Diane searched through the different sizes on the rack. This was the fourth 
store she'd checked and it was getting late. 12:10. There were a variety of 
dresses that came close - right color-no buttons, buttons-no pleats, pleats-wrong 
color. After leaving the store, she decided to do the shopping for the garter and 
stockings. Maybe getting that task out of the way would free her up to 
concentrate on the dress itself. She went into Victoria's Secret - it seemed like 
the right place to buy that sort of thing.

 The clerk was able to fit her with the garter belt and stockings without 
making her feel embarrassed. Diane noticed a rack of dresses out of the corner 
of her eye. There on the rack was a plum dress with buttons up the front. She felt 
a rush of excitement as she walked closer and saw the pleated flow of the skirt. 
It should have occurred to her that they'd searched for the 'uniform' already and 
found it at a local store. They knew where she lived, why make it difficult?

 She paid for the items and went into the women's room near the information 
booth in the mall. There, she quickly changed into the newly purchased outfit. 
Pausing to look at herself in the mirror, she realized she'd forgot to buy the 
appropriate makeup. Well, at least it might be easier to match since she had the 
outfit on. She stuffed her old clothes into the Victoria's Secret bag and walked 
back out into the mall.

 Shoes! She realized her shoes - black - might work but also weren't quite 
perfect. She stopped in a shoe store along the way and bought a pair of shoes 
that were a better match. They hadn't asked for heels, but she bought them 
anyway. It seemed likely they'd send her back if she showed up in anything else. 
At the make-up counter, she simply asked the woman to match her 'color' and 
the dress. It took only a few minutes. The woman behind the counter applied the 
makeup to Diane, coaching her as she went along.

+ + +

 It was five minutes after one o'clock when Diane opened the front door of 
the bookstore. It was a modern looking place, not like the dingy adult bookstores 
she'd seen in movies. There were racks of magazines, glass cases full of 'adult 
devices', and shelves full of videotapes on both walls. The man at the counter 
looked at her, pointed to a small sign on the cash register.

$5 DEPOSIT TO ENTER.
WILL BE APPLIED TO ANY PURCHASE.
20 MINUTE LIMIT ON BROWSING

 She reached into the small purse and pulled out her $20.

 "How do you want the change?" he asked.

 Puzzled, she replied, "whatever." He handed her a ten and a five dollar bill. 
Diane looked around the store again, trying to find her rendezvous. There were 
two or three men looking at magazines, no one looked up at her. Walking past 
the magazines, she saw the overhead sign that read "PEEP SHOWS". 
Underneath the sign, there was a bulletin board with pictures from the covers of 
the dozen or so videos that were playing. There was an assortment of behaviors, 
from couples to girl-girl to a bondage party.

 "You're late." Diane couldn't tell where the voice was coming from. It 
originated from somewhere back in the booths. "Come back here. Booth number 
4." She looked at the doors. Each had a number and had a copy of the videotape 
cover tacked underneath it. Door number 4 was slightly open. The tape was 
titled "World Record Orgy" and described a tape with one woman taking on 
over 200 men. There was a picture of a group of men milling around a long table 
with drinks lined up. In the background was a woman laying on a mattress with 
several men standing around her, stroking themselves. From behind her, the 
door to #6 opened and a figure stepped out. She didn't recognize him by sight or 
by his voice. Was this another new one?

 "Did you bring the quarters?" Stunned, Diane realized that she'd forgotten.

 "Uh, I...forgot..."

 "Let me get this straight. You didn't sign up at the gym..."

 "I didn't know they meant first thing in the morning!"

 "I understand that's what you were told. And don't interrupt me." Diane 
looked as one of the other booths opened. A man stepped out and looked at her. 
A smile crossed his face. He blew her a kiss. A few seconds later, another man 
stepped out of the same booth and headed for the back door. "You didn't sign up 
at the gym, you were late getting her, and you chose not to bring the quarters?"

 "I didn't choose, I just forgot!"

 "Jesus, you play dangerous. Are you trying to get yourself hurt or exposed 
or what?" The man didn't wait for a reply. He reached for her, put his hand up 
underneath her skirt. As he raised his hand, the skirt slid up, higher and higher, 
until he could see her exposed cunt. "Well, at least you dressed properly." He let 
the skirt drop. "Let's get on with it." She watched him as he walked toward the 
back of the store. He stopped and turned. "Are you waiting for something?" 
Shaking her head, she followed him.

 The man stood outside the door of the #10 booth. The video cover showed a 
woman dressed in a rubber head-to-toe outfit. All that was exposed was her 
mouth, which was held open by a ring of some sort. "Knock...knock..." The door 
opened slowly.  Inside, she saw a man sitting on the bench. He looked at her 
without speaking. He raised a hand and twirled a finger. The man outside the 
booth reached for Diane and, holding her by the shoulders, turned her around 
slowly. The man inside the booth pointed to her neck the dropped his finger 
slowly along the front of her body to the bottom of the skirt.

 "Unbutton yourself for him." Fingers trembling, she unbuttoned the top 
button. Slowly, she worked her way down the front of the dress, hoping with 
each button that they would say 'enough'. When she'd unbuttoned the last one, 
the man outside, with one quick motion, slipped the dress off of her and dropped 
it to the floor. Diane's hands reflexively went up to cover her breasts but the man 
gave her a stern look. She dropped them down to her sides. She couldn't believe 
it, she was standing practically naked in an adult bookstore in downtown 
Chicago. And neither of the men was touching her, just looking.

 "Bring her back when she drops a few pounds," the man in #10 said. The 
door closed and she heard the bolt slide from the inside.

 "Oh shit, this could be trouble. This is a very regular customer and he is not 
happy. Get your things and let's go." The man started walking quickly toward 
the front of the store. "Come on!" Diane grabbed the dress and pulled it on. She 
tried to button it as she walked to the front of the store. The clerk gave her a grin 
as she walked past, putting the last button into place and obviously feeling 
painfully exposed.

Chapter 11

 The man from Booth 6 led her into a diner a few streets over.

 "There, sit," he said. She slid into the booth on the bench across from him. 
He waved the waitress over and ordered two coffees. She sat silent, hands on the 
table, looking at him. "I wouldn't worry too much. Steve's often picky. I 
overreacted a little bit because it's been a pretty hectic morning for me. You 
wouldn't believe what I've had to do today..." The waitress brought the coffee 
cups. He paused and waited for her to place them on the table.

 "Yeah, it's been a real bitch. Run here, drop that off, pick this up. I'm 
exhausted." She stared at him, wondering if she was supposed to care that he'd 
had a bad day. "Go ahead, have some coffee if you like," he encouraged her. 

"We've got a couple of hours to kill until your next job. You want to hear about 
it?" Her eyes widened slightly, the way they talked to her still shocked her. It 
seemed like the transition from housewife/mother to whore was not real to them. 
Or at least it was of no concern at all.

 "Coupla guys working out a construction deal. There's a big wig who holds 
the purse strings. He's made it clear that he doesn't really care about the numbers 
on the bid sheets, he's looking for some other compensation. Seems he's big into 
the 'sloppy seconds' thing. That was him in booth 4 watching that 'world record 
orgy' thing. I think it's a scam, but he likes it." The man took a drink of his 
coffee, sat quietly for a little while.

 "Anyway, here's the deal. We've got to convince him that he's number six or 
so for the day. He isn't really interested in breaking any records, but he just likes 
the idea that you're going to be soaking wet, full of cum, and exhausted. Some 
dried bits on your neck, chin, and titties add to the picture for him. I didn't ask if 
he'd like to see some trickling out of your..."

 "Anything else for you two?" the waitress asked. Diane tried to catch her 
eye, gave her a frightened look, hoping she might be able to interrupt the day's 
flow, but the woman ignored her.

 "No, this is fine," the man told her. She walked away. "I didn't ask if he'd 
like some trickling out of your ass, and if they don't ask, I don't do." He picked 
up the cup and drained the rest of the coffee. "Anyway, you're on for 3 o'clock. 
Come on, let's see what we can do between now and then." A chill panic gripped 
her stomach - was she going to be handed to a roomful of men and be expected 
to take them on in the next hour and a half? How were they going to get her 
from place to place? Could she take this? Diane followed the man out of the 
diner and onto the sidewalk.

 "Are you sure about this?" she asked.

 "I don't make mistakes." They walked several blocks to a run down looking 
hotel on a quiet street. They entered the lobby. He had to ring the bell twice 
before the attendant - a long haired, bearded man in his 30's or so, came in from 
a room behind the desk. "Need a room for a couple of hours," he announced. 
The man looked at him, looked at Diane, smiled and shook his head.

 "She's new, huh? Don't recognize her."

 "Just give me the key."

 "Okay. Okay, just asking. But if she's local, I'd like her number." He winked 
at Diane, who turned her head.

 "That wasn't very nice," Booth 6 said to her. "I think you need to apologize 
to him." Her knees went weak - was this going to be the first in his chain today?

 "I'm sorry, I'm very sorry, please forgive me," she said in a panic. He smiled 
at her and nodded.

 "I think he accepts it." The elevator was broken so they took the stairs to the 
third floor. Inside the room, there was a single bed, a small desk and a broken 
television set. It was on and there was static and fuzz but no picture. The sheets 
were dingy looking, the drapes were opened and she could see the window was 
dirty. "OK, hang the dress up in the closet," he said. She watched him unbutton 
his pants and drop them around his ankles. "Let's go." Undoing her own buttons, 
she thought, well at least he's familiar. More or less. She slipped out of the dress 
and reached for the hangar in the closet. A mouse ran across the tip of her shoe 
and scurried across the floor.

 "Oh, no, we can't do it here!"

 "Sorry honey, but I gotta pay with my own money and I'm not some rich 
fuck lawyer from uptown. We're fucking here. Otherwise, I gotta go out and find 
a buncha guys to set you up and I don't have the time or energy for that today. 
Let's go. I'll do you, we'll rig you up with some hand lotion or something he'll 
think is the other guys, and you're set."

 What was his part in the entire scheme? she wondered. If he had to pay for 
the room himself, he was probably not part of the main group. Could she trust 
him? Maybe he was her way out?

 "You know, we could help each other. I have plenty of money..." she said. 
He stopped taking off his sock.

 "Yeah?" She walked closer to him. He didn't move - he was listening.

 "I have money and I have talents. Maybe we can talk about that a little." 
She reached her arm around the back of his head. His greasy hair felt disgusting, 
but she pulled him closer. When she kissed him, he opened his mouth. She 
gagged, tasting the coffee and cigarettes, but forced herself to
appear passionate. Her hips pressed against him, she ran her free hand down the 
front of his body and under the elastic of his boxers.

 "You know, you've got a great face. Strong, rugged," she cooed, flicking the 
tip of her tongue against his upper lip. He reached for her ass and she let him. 
Her hand went to his cock and massaged it gently. "You like me to suck your 
balls? Have you had that done? I hear it's the best thing..."

 "Oh yeah," he whispered. She went slowly to her knees in front of him, 
pulled the shorts down and leaned forward. Her hand worked gently up and 
down his cock while her tongue lapped at his balls. She opened her mouth and 
let them gently slide between her lips. "Oh fuck yeah," he moaned. She pressed 
her tongue against the base of his cock, through the soft flesh of the scrotum. 
Her hand was rubbing the head of his cock gently. His hips started to work 
forward and back, fucking her palm. Diane brought her other hand to her mouth. 
She licked it. When it was damp, she slid it along the underside of his sack 
toward his asshole.

 "You're going to love this," she whispered. She moved around to the head 
of his cock and she took it deep into her mouth. At the same time, she slid her 
long index finger up into his asshole.

 He jerked and cried out, "Oh, yeah!" She worked her mouth in rhythm with 
her finger, sliding both his cock and her finger in and out at the same time. 
"Yeah, that's it, closer, you're getting there," he moaned. She took him deep into 
her mouth, brought her other hand up and massaged his balls. His spasms started 
and he unloaded his cum into her mouth. She swallowed it this time without 
hesitation. It was easier than having it on her tongue, then swallowing it.

 "Oh, goddam, that was nice." He stroked her head for a few minutes. "But 
not a good idea." She looked up at him. He stepped away, pulled up his pants, 
then sat on the edge of the bed. "Remember why we were here? Now, there's 
nothing to use to get you all sticky..." A smile grew across his face while she felt 
her resolve collapse. He was not going to help her at all.

 "Now, we have to go find those guys I was trying to avoid..."
 

Chapter 12

 "Listen, we don't have to do this!" she pleaded. Booth 6 was buckling his 
belt.

 "OK, I'm listening." Her brain scrambled for the next sentence. If 
everything he said was true, she needed to appear well used before three o'clock. 
What would give that impression?

 "OK, all he really wants is for me to LOOK like I've been fucking, right?"

 "Right, princess," he laughed. "You have an idea?"

 "You don't care how we do it, right?"

 "Right again, but time is running out."

 "OK. Uh, hand lotion..."

 "He'll know from the smell. And the consistency isn't right."

 "Vaseline cream..."

 "Not right."

 "School paste!" she tried desperately.

 "School paste?" She knew it sounded impossible.

 "Yeah, it's sticky, it flakes... With some water and hand lotion, I can make it 
look like it's running out of me..."

 "The smell will give it away."

 "No, there's unscented! I can do this. Please, please, please...." Her eyes 
were wide. He looked at her, looked her body up and down.

 "I don't think I have the time or resources to get you fucked in time. I'll let 
you try it. You know that if it doesn't work, it's both of our asses?"

 "It will work," she said, wondering why she believed it.

+ + +

 Diane left him napping in the hotel room. Down the street, there was a five-
and-dime. She bought some school paste, a variety of unscented hand creams, 
Vaseline, and anything else she could think of that was white and creamy. 
Between these three, she was sure she could come up with something. She also 
bought a turkey baster, realizing that she needed some way to introduce the 
mixture into her body.

 Back in the hotel room, she tried a variety of mixtures in the hotel room 
cups. It was 2:30, time was getting short. She didn't know where they had to be 
at 3, but if it was far and he was still napping, it wasn't her fault. After a few 
tries, she had what she felt was a good mixture. She dabbed some on her neck 
and let it dry. It didn't smell, it seemed to be the right texture. She put more on 
her chest and shoulders. Then, watered down a bit more, she loaded up the 
baster.

 She leaned against the sink and realized that she was leaning against a dirty 
sink in a dingy hotel in downtown Chicago, about to shove a plastic nozzle up 
her ass to simulate having been fucked. It was disgusting. She felt she should 
just die and get it over with. What hope did she have of escaping the blackmail? 
Rather than consider it, she went ahead. Let the body go on auto-pilot, she 
thought. The baster went into her ass painfully but the pain subsided after the tip 
was in. She shoved it a few inches in, then squeezed the contents into herself. 
When she finished, the did the same to her cunt.

 "We ready to go?" she heard from the other room.

 "I think so." She walked into the living room. He walked around her, bent 
her over and stuck a finger into each of her holes.

 "It would fool me if I was horny. Not if I wasn't." She felt fear running 
through her. What if it didn't work? "I suggest you do your best to work him up 
first," the man continued. "He'll want stories of the encounters earlier in the day. 
He likes to hear about threesomes. Do your best."

+ + +

 At 3:00 precisely, they knocked on the door of a hotel room in another 
upscale hotel in downtown Chicago. The man who answered was tall, thin, and 
completely naked. He was holding a half-full bottle of whiskey. He didn't appear 
to be staggering, maybe he'd just started into it.

 "Come in, come in," he waved. Booth 6 closed and locked the door behind 
them. "So, this is Tanya, huh?" he said. There was no slur to his voice, only an 
excitement and eagerness. "How's Tanya's day been?" He waved his hand, 
indicating that she should turn around. She did a slow turn, coming back to her 
position. "OK, now this time, let's see you turn around, bend over and grab your 
ankles." She turned red hearing this and wondered why. She thought it must 
have been the phrase rather than what she was doing. Compared to what she'd 
been doing, this was mild. Turning her back to him, she bent over, reached 
down for her ankles, and stood still.

 "Yep," he said. She watched him walk closer, slide the skirt up over her ass. 
He slid two or three fingers into her cunt, then out again. He kept this up for 
several minutes, sliding them in and out, pausing, then doing it again. After he 
finished, he pushed several fingers into her asshole and repeated the motion. In 
and out with pauses in between. Finally, he pulled them out.

 "Turn around," he ordered her. She stood up and turned toward him. He was 
sniffing his fingers.

 "Very nice. Not certain it's ALL cum, but certainly most of it is and that's 
enough for me. How many today?"

 "Seven," she lied.

 "Long morning for you. You keep much of the money?" Uncertain what she 
was supposed to say, she looked at Booth 6. He smiled and spoke up.

 "She belongs to a group of us. We keep the money." Anger rose in her 
chest, but she pushed it down. There was actually nothing much false in what he 
said.

 "Well, you can call me Rod. Get naked and come sit down on my cock. I 
want you to put it inside your pussy, then tell me about them, the ones earlier 
today." He sat down on the floor in front of her. She removed her clothes, 
draping them over an armchair, then straddled his hips. His cock was not stiff, 
so she reached down to touch it.

 "Do not touch me. Start telling stories. That better do it, or you get no 
money." Rod looked up at Booth 6. "Isn't that the deal?"

 "She'll do it for you, Rod. Relax." She reached into her memory for a story. 
She remembered an online encounter in which they staged a gang bang. She'd 
use that for the false memory.

 "Well, I...got a call this morning and went down to an all-night grocery 
store. The manager had several of his guys working double shifts to try and get a 
display together in time for a big promotion. They'd put in long hours and were 
exhausted and he wanted to reward them. So, they hired me out." She watched 
his face. He was considering it, she had to be careful. His cock was not 
stiffening appreciably.

 "I showed up in tight jeans and a t-shirt. It was what he suggested. Most of 
them are in their late teens, early 20's and he thought this would appeal the 
them." Rod nodded, she'd found some connection... maybe the age? "There was 
loud music playing over the in-store speaker system.  Rock and roll. I did a 
dance for them, shaking my hips, arms above my head, that kind of thing. They 
were drinking a bit and a couple of them got up to dance with me. They started 
kissing and fondling me, I let them do what they wanted, kissed back, touched, 
hugged..." Rod's eyes were closing and his cock was stiffening, laying sidewise 
in his lap but longer.

 "There were boxes all over. They'd unpacked everything but there was still 
plenty of stock. One of them started unbuttoning my clothes and the next thing I 
knew, everyone was naked. A couple of them carried me to a stack of boxes and 
put me face down, bending my ass over one edge, my face over the other. 
Someone started fucking me from behind and someone else shoved his cock in 
my mouth. When the guy in back unloaded, the guy in front pulled it out and 
took his place. All six of them worked me from mouth to cunt." Rod was 
definitely interested, his cock was fully erect now. She straddled him, slid her 
cunt down over his stiff cock, and squatted to the floor.

 "Another cock entered my mouth and I tasted pussy juice and cum. This one 
was coming around for seconds.  I sucked him stiff again and then he walked 
around back. This time, his cock went straight to my asshole. Another dirty cock 
in my mouth and I realized what they were doing. They were going to go around 
a second time up my asshole." Rod had his hands behind his head, he was 
moaning and started meeting her strokes with his own hip movements.

 "One after another, they'd use my mouth to get themselves hard again, then, 
as soon as a buddy finished with my ass, he'd walk around behind and take his 
place. All six of them did me up both holes.  It must have taken about two hours. 
When they were finished, I was sore all over.  My chest, arms and legs hurt from 
the edges of the boxes. You can imagine how swollen my cunt..." Rod jerked 
and let out a scream. She felt his cum starting to flow into her and she bent 
down.

 "Come on, baby, give it to me, get in there with the others..." He continued 
until he couldn't stop.

 "Nice," Booth 6 commented from his chair.

 "Yes, nice. I vote you keep her!" Rod laughed. Booth 6 handed Diane her 
clothes and told her to get dressed. As they left, she watched Rod hand over 
$200.00

Chapter 13

 When Diane got home, she checked her email again. The note from 
SumwonElz said she would have no more contact with them until Thursday, two 
days away. But she was expected to continue working out at the gym. In the 
morning, Diane drove to the D--- Gym to ask about joining. When she walked 
into the building, she was met by a young woman wearing workout gear. She 
had a serious look and a well toned body. Diane could tell she was probably one 
of the staff.

 "Um. Hello. I'm interested in maybe joining up," Diane managed to say.

 "Let me just ask you, are you a friend of Rod's? Because he said you would 
probably be coming in today." The younger woman gave her a pleasant look that 
was somehow tinged with condescension, or at least a conspiratorial air.

 "Well, I do know someone named Rod..."

 "That's it then! So, you're up for the competition, hm? Going to remake 
yourself in just a few short months?" The woman was already walking across 
the gym, motioning for Diane to follow her. Diane had to practically trot to keep 
pace. "You know, you can't be caught moving slow around here!" the woman 
laughed. "You never make your goal if you don't bust some ass!" She stopped in 
front of a dressing room.

 "Now, go on in there and put on the outfit you find. I told Rod I'd get you 
started right away and I'm not going to break my word!" Diane's head was 
spinning. Was the woman in on it? Rod was an organizer? Was she talking to 
the wrong person?

 "Are you sure we don't have to sign any paperwork or anything?" Diane 
asked, trying to gain some time to think through her situation.

 "Nothing. You're to start right up. Rod has paid for your membership and he 
wants me to make you a winner. The story we are going to tell is this: you want 
to compete for the Mrs. Chicago pageant. We all know the REAL story, but that 
one will do." The woman winked at Diane. The REAL story? What did the 
woman know? Who was Rod? "Stop thinking and get dressed," the woman said, 
her tone menacing now. Diane stepped into the small booth and started taking 
her clothes off. She noticed an overhead camera in the corner of the dressing 
room.

 "Is this camera on?" she called.

 "Oh, pleeease!" the woman answered, walking away. "Meet me at the 
rowing machine." When she was dressed, the trainer - Liz by name - had Diane 
stand beside the machine with her arms raised. Liz felt her belly, thighs, chin, 
arms and legs, making comments to herself as she did. Diane was acutely aware 
of being looked over like a piece of cattle but made no comment.

 "OK, I think I can do it for them...for you I mean," Liz said with a grin. She 
ran Diane through her paces. She did fifty crunches - painful and slow, but fifty 
was the goal - and worked out on several different weight machines. By the time 
they finished, Diane could hardly walk and did not think she'd make it home. In 
the dressing room, she collapsed on a bench.

 "I can tell it's been a long time since you've worked out. This is good for 
you. All kinds of fringe benefits. Go get a shower and go home." The woman 
walked out the door and back into the main floor of the gym.

 Diane stood in the shower for a long time, feeling the warmth slowly bring 
her some comfort. Her muscles were on fire but there was something happening 
in her head. The endorphins were kicking in. She was feeling good, excited. 
Exhausted, but excited. She dressed and drove home. No one would be home for 
a few more hours. She was feeling horny and, with the blackmailers not around, 
in control of her life again. She logged on and skimmed her email. Many 
proposals again. She started deleting them. "Ding!"

 - 2Big4U: Hey, honey!
 - SubDiane: do I know you?
 - 2Big4U: Does it matter? I read your profile, sweetcakes.

Diane shook her head.  Her profile was pretty innocuous.

 - SubDiane: what did you like about it?
 - 2Big4U: the part about meeting in real life.

There was nothing about that in her profile.

 - SubDiane: you got the wrong girl
 - 2Big4U: I doubt it. come on, you up for some cyber?
 - SubDiane: wait a minute

A bit frightened by the possibility of what she might find, Diane clicked on the 
commands that would show her, her own profile. It had been altered. It gave her 
city, her correct age and number of kids, and listed her hobbies as "real world 
meetings for anything you like, once you've proven yourself worthy in cyber". 
She felt herself sinking down another level deeper into the cesspool of her life. 
She changed her profile and saved it, wondering how long it would take him (or 
them?) to change it again.

 - 2Big4U: I'm waiting, honey.

Diane felt a familiar desire coming up. The screen had some kind of Pavlovian 
effect on her, even after all that had happened. There was still over an hour 
before anyone would be home. She followed him into his private chat. They 
circled each other a bit warily, then he started making demands. She felt a 
familiar sensation as she delivered on each of his demands. As they went deeper 
and deeper into the session, she slid her hand down into her pants and 
masturbated herself, her other hand furiously typing away to keep his interest. 
He had her chained to a wall in a dark cave, back against the hard rocks, iron 
shackles on her wrists and ankles. He was ravaging her for the third time, 
pressing harder she was cutting her shoulder blades and hips against the rocks. 
Her mouth was devouring his tongue, her cunt a starving man at his first meal. 
She kept trying to raise her knees and wrap her legs around him but the chains 
around her ankles stopped her. She was crying from the effort. He shot his cum 
into her shot his cum into her, then pulled his cock out and left the room.

 Diane fingered herself even after 2Big4U had logged out of their private 
chat. What an asshole. Once he was done, he'd signed off. It was not unusual, 
but it was frustrating. She went back and cruised the rooms called "SubF4U", 
"silk stockings" and the usuals. There were a few IMs but no one who sounded 
like he could do it.

 Finally, in "short skirts", she decided to give someone a try. He took her to 
a private room and started massaging her shoulders. She relaxed under his hand. 
He worked his way down her back, pressing the muscles hard. She sat in her 
room, imagining strong hands on her. He worked his way down to her hips, then 
moved his hands around front of her. His fingers slipped down and opened her 
up. His left hand reached for hers and he slid two of her own fingers into her.
 She was enjoying this, he was imaginative. He was kissing her neck, licking 
her beneath the ear. His other hand roamed the front of her body, from nipple to 
clit, from belly to cunt lips. She felt the tension building in her body and started 
massaging herself. She spread her knees wide and continued typing responses to 
his advances. She closed her eyes for a minute and leaned her head back, 
moaning.

 "Mom?" came a call from the hallway. Diane jerked her head forward, sat 
up straight in the chair. He daughter was home, she must have not heard her 
come in. She checked the clock. It was nearly four! She'd been online over an 
hour and a half!

 "One minute, honey!" she yelled. Diane clicked off the computer and stood 
up. She smelled her fingers. They smelled like her. There was nothing in the 
room she could use to mask the scent. "Could you get me a glass of soda from 
the fridge?" she called to her daughter.

 "Sure." She heard footsteps going down the stairs. Diane rushed from the 
room to her own, washed her hands with hot water, and put on too much hand 
lotion. When her daughter handed her the glass, it almost slipped through her 
greasy fingers.

 "Come on," Diane said, "let's get dinner ready."

Chapter 14

 Dinner was quiet that night. Diane was still digesting the fact that she'd 
almost been caught by her daughter in an online cyber session. After dinner, Jim 
had some research to do and he commandeered the computer. She went out for a 
drive. She was edgy, anxious about how to keep her two lives separate. She 
found herself in a local Border's Books, thumbing through magazines on house 
decorating, but her mind walking up and down the hall at the Palmer House 
hotel.

 She shook her head to clear the thoughts then went and bought herself some 
coffee. Sipping it slowly, she closed her eyes and drifted. Her head was filled 
with thoughts of the encounters over the last week, interspersed and merging 
with visions of some of her online sessions. This is scary! she thought. I'm 
enjoying some of it... The thoughts were still dancing around inside her head 
when Diane pulled up in the driveway. There was a strange car on the street in 
front of the house. Her first thought was that someone was spying on her. When 
she saw it was empty, she was afraid one of the blackmailers had come to give 
something to Jim. Once inside the house, she found everyone getting ready for 
bed. No mention of anything. Must have just been a neighbor's car.

 "Do you want the computer?" Jim asked. "I'm finished and I'm going to bed 
soon." She hugged him and gave him a small kiss.

 "Yes, I guess I'll do some looking around." Diane closed the door behind 
her and logged on. There was no mail. She decided to get a good night's sleep.

+ + +

 The next day, Diane woke early. She made breakfast for Jim and poured 
herself a strong cup of coffee. She checked email again but there was nothing. 
She cleaned the kitchen, straightened some things around the house. Her energy 
was rampant, unfocused. She found herself moving things from one end of the 
room to the other, then back again. Diane checked her email several times 
before going off to the gym. Liz ran her through her routines but made no 
comments at all about what she might do when she left.

 Back at home, after a light lunch, she checked her email. Dozens of letters 
from people who described themselves as 'local to Chicago'. She deleted them 
all. Nothing from SumwonElz. Diane leaned back in the chair.  She was afraid. 
Now that there was nothing coming, it felt like she missed it. She started to 
wonder about herself, about her stability. That she might miss hearing from the 
blackmailer... What did it mean?

 She ran some errands that afternoon, driving to the bank, grocery, and to a 
craft store. There was nothing she really needed, but buying craft items seemed 
so normal compared to her life over the last 2 weeks. At home again, no email. 
She went to the kitchen and started putting dinner together. They ate together, 
watched some television, and eventually headed for bed. Jim fell asleep as soon 
as he hit the pillow. She tossed and turned until around 11, then went to check 
email again. There was a message.  It read:

 "1:30 this morning. Davey's Bar on B--- Street. Blue jeans, grey sweatshirt, 
conservative white bra and panties. comb your hair and wear heavy makeup. 
Blue eyes and red lips. There will be a red truck in the parking lot."

 That was all. There was no contact or chat from SumwonElz. She looked at 
the clock. It was 11:20.  She crawled back into bed and set her alarm clock. At 
1:10, the alarm clock buzzed. She reached for it, but not before Jim rolled over 
and opened his eyes.

 "What's that?"

 "Oh, I was napping today and must have set it for 1 a.m. instead of 1 p.m." 
she said. He chuckled.

 "Women!" She waited until he was breathing steadily before she slipped out 
of bed. She went to the basement to find the clothes they wanted - there were 
plenty of extra down there waiting to be ironed or carried upstairs. She dressed 
as they instructed, brought her make up with her in the car. The drive to the bar 
was not long. She stopped a few blocks away to put on her heavy makeup. She 
watched in the rearview mirror as she turned from housewife to whore. She 
pursed her lips and looked at herself. Not bad looking, actually.

 The minivan pulled into the parking lot and she parked it. When she stepped 
out, she took a deep breath and enjoyed feeling the cool air. Since she'd started 
exercising, she was feeling better and she looked down at her belly. It was 
looking nicer too. There was a red pickup truck not too far from the front door. 
She saw two men standing beside it, sipping beers from bottles. Diane picked up 
her small purse and started across the distance between them.

 "Hey, it's SubDiane!" one of them nudged the other. She was stunned to 
hear her online name said out loud. It sounded a little silly.

 "Hey, Diane! It's me 1derBoy!" one of them stepped up to her and put out 
his hand. She shook it and gave him a puzzled look. "You know, from the chats? 
We met in 'long legs, short skirts'. You did me ten ways from Sunday. It was 
great!" The other man stepped closer, nudged his friend aside.

 "I'm XMANX, we met in the SubF4U chat a while back." He didn't shake 
her hand, just looked at her like a wolf looking at a chicken. Diane didn't know 
what to say. She'd never considered that some of her tricks might be chat 
partners. That seemed to change something for her.

 "Well, listen, honey, we don't have all night. I brought a little something for 
us..." He raised a handful of papers and slapped them with his other hand. "Chat 
logs. Now, Davey and I have something in common here. Look, right on page 
four..." Diane looked at the chat log. He pointed at a passage in which she 
invited the two men in the chat room to take her at the same time.

 "Yeah, Tom and I had the same fantasy and we played it on you. When we 
heard you were available, it just seemed natural we'd take the next step..." They 
walked her to the truck and invited her to sit between them. Tom drove them to 
a nearby hotel and they walked up the stairs and into a room.

 "Hey, you got any preference which of us works you from which end?"

Davey laughed. He gave Tom the high-5. They were taking off their clothes 
already, both looking at her as they did. "Come on, honey, let's get this show on 
the road." Diane felt herself give up before she even resisted. She pulled the 
sweatshirt over her head then unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. She was 
standing there in the bra and panties when Davey stepped over and grabbed her 
arm.

 "What the shit kinda hooker are you? This looks like my mama's 
underwear!" Tom laughed.

 "Hey, maybe she's moonlighting. You a waitress or something, hon?" Tears 
welled up in her eyes as they clapped each other on the back and stared at her.

"Well, hey, at least her ass looks sweet. Turn around and let us see you, honey." 
Diane turned her back to them and put her hands on her face. She sobbed as they 
talked about her, what she'd look like with her legs spread, with her titties 
hanging down, on her knees with her ass up in the air.

 "Come on, come on, get that shit off!" Davey said between chuckles. She 
stripped naked and got on her hands and knees. Davey stepped around front of 
her and squatted slightly. She opened her mouth and took his cock in. He pushed 
the limp flesh between her lips and she moved her tongue around the head.  Tom 
knelt on the carpet behind her and she heard him spit on his hand, felt him 
rubbing it on his cock. Humiliated to be acting out this chat in real life, she 
closed her eyes and focused on Davey's dick.

 It was getting harder. She thought if she could just work him fast enough, 
she could finish him off, then concentrate on Tom. But Tom was already hard 
and shoving himself between her parted cunt lips. They were pushing and 
pulling in rhythm with each other, her in the middle. Each would push deep into 
her, hold it for a few seconds, then pull back out. After several minutes of that 
slow working, they both started moving faster. In minutes, they were moaning 
and hammering away at her from each end. Davey was the first to go, shooting 
his warm cum into her mouth. He kept her head close and she had to swallow it 
to keep from gagging. Tom heard Davey coming and that pushed him over the 
edge. She felt him grab her tight and plant himself deep inside, shaking her hips 
with his hands to try and make himself cum.

 "Oh yes! You live up to your reputation, honey!" Davey said as he pulled 
his pants back up. She stood up and walked to the bathroom. She ran the warm 
water over a washrag and pushed it between her legs to soak up the cum that 
was dripping from her.

 "Yeah, a nice tight little pussy, Diane.  You gotta keep it like that for me, 
OK?" Tom laughed and he and Davey talked to each other about which end of 
her they liked better. They agreed they'd have to do her again, switching places, 
before they'd really know. She walked out of the bathroom and saw them 
standing near the door, both dressed. "Well, hon, hope you get home safe and 
sound.  The cash is on the dresser there." She looked where he was pointing and 
there were five $50's laid out in a line. "Nice doing business with you." They 
walked out and closed the door behind them.

 Diane fell on the bed and cried. After a while, she looked at the clock. It 
was 3:30 in the morning. She had to get home. There were no taxis on the street. 
She tried to get into the hotel lobby but it was locked. She knew better than to 
ring to ask to use the phone. There was a pay phone on the next corner. She 
walked down the block, careful not to make eye contact with anyone in either of 
the two cars that passed her.

 The taxi driver brought her back to the bar and she drove home. She 
changed clothes and scrubbed her face clean in the basement bathroom before 
going upstairs. Jim hadn't stirred in his sleep. She climbed in and slept as far on 
her side of the bed as she could.

Chapter 15

 Traffic was slow again as she headed for the gym. She felt the stiffness in 
her knees and elbows - lack of sleep always did that to her. She was tired from 
last night. Jim had woke her up early and asked for breakfast, which she 
cheerfully provided. By the time he left, she had only another hour or so to nap 
before getting up and dressed for the gym. The parking lot was not crowded, she 
got a spot near the door. At least something was going right! Inside, her trainer 
Liz was right there as usual. Liz gave her a smile and followed her into the 
changing room.

 "Tired?" she asked.

 "Well, I didn't get a good night sleep..." Diane muttered. She pulled off her 
pants and pulled on a pair of blue exercise tights.

 "I guess not, with those two country boys going at you all night..." Diane 
spun her head to look at Liz, but Liz had turned around and was walking out of 
the room. She knew! She wasn't just a trainer they'd hired, she was in on the 
whole thing! Was she part of the group that had been in the hotel room? Feeling 
disoriented again, Diane finished changing her clothes. She walked out into the 
gym and looked for Liz.

 "Over here," she heard Liz call. Liz was standing beside a large weight 
machine and holding two handles attached to metal wires. "Come on, I want to 
start working on upper body strength!" Diane took the grips from her and was 
nearly pulled over.

 "This is too heavy," she protested.

 "Nope. You can do it. Let's go!" Diane grunted as she tried to pull the cords. 
The weights came up, slowly, but they came up inside the machine. "Ten of 
those, then a rest," Liz told her. Diane wanted to yell at her, scream "you're one 
of them!" but she was distracted by the stretch of her muscles and the feeling of 
determination to do the damn exercise no matter what.

 "Hey, listen, honey. I just want you to know, you're not the only one, OK?" 
Liz said. "Ten of those, then meet me at the treadmill." Diane braced her feet on 
the floor and watched Liz walk to the front desk. When she finally came to the 
treadmill, Liz was waiting. "You're doing nice here, I like the way you look. 
We're going to work your arms a bit this week, but keep up on the other things 
as well. You're up to, what? about 100 crunches?" Diane nodded.

 "Good. I want you on this treadmill for 30 minutes, then find me and give 
me 120 crunches." Diane set the treadmill at a fast pace, then walked away 
without another word. She walked away again. Thirty minutes? At this pace? 
This was quite a jump from yesterday. She stepped on the machine and was 
nearly thrown off. She gripped the handrails, got her legs running, then jumped 
back on the treadmill. By the time she reached the fifteen minute mark, she was 
soaking with sweat and panting heavily. This must be double what we did 
yesterday! she thought. Her arms were pumping hard and she felt the burning in 
her legs and calves. When the timer finally went off and the machine slowed 
down, she was dripping sweat and could barely catch her breath. She looked 
around the room for Liz and saw her standing near the free weights, staring. No 
time to a break. Diane stumbled to the water cooler and took a drink.  Then, she 
walked to where Liz was standing.

 "I can't do this..." she puffed out.

 "Nonsense. You're in wonderful shape, from what I hear. Now, get on that 
incline board and let's see 120." Diane's eyes grew wide.

 "Incline board? We've never done that."

 "First time for everything, honey. Let's go." She reached and locked the 
board into first position - Diane's feet would be 12 inches or so higher than her 
head. Diane lay down on the board and locked her ankles under the pads. With 
her knees bent and hands behind her head, she started the count. Pulling herself 
up in this position was harder than anything she'd done before.

 "One..." Liz stood beside her the entire time, encouraging her, demanding 
she not stop. "You can do it, let's go. Remember, there's really no choice, is 
there?" After an eternity, Diane finished number 120 and dropped her head 
down, panting and grunting. "Get up. We're not done." She rose to her feet, 
steadying herself against the wall.

 "I can't even walk, Liz..."

 "All right. I'll give you a break today. Get naked and take 15 in the sauna. I 
want everything sweated out of you." Diane staggered back to the dressing room 
and peeled off her exercise clothes. Grabbing a towel from the rack, she made 
her way into the sauna. It was a dry sauna and she laid the towel down on the 
redwood bench before sitting down. There were two other women there. One 
was an older woman, probably in her 50's. She was in good shape, her skin was 
somewhat leathery, but her muscles showed good tone. The other woman was 
grey haired and somewhat older. Her breasts sagged and the skin hung from her 
arms and thighs with little muscle covering the bone. They looked at the door, 
then looked at Diane. She had her arms at her sides, knees relaxed, legs slightly 
apart. Her eyes were closed but when she opened them, she saw both women 
staring directly at her.

 "Hi," she said, trying to be cheerful. The women looked at each other and 
smiled. The younger one pointed her finger at Diane.

 "I like the way her mouth is shaped. I'll bet she's a good cock sucker." 
Diane leaned forward, certain she'd heard wrong.

 "No, I don't think so. Looks like a nice motherly type to me. Quick one with 
the lights out." She laughed nervously, certain they were joking, testing her in 
some way as a new member of the gym.

 "Do I know you?" she asked, trying to break the ice.

 "No, Diane, you don't. But we know you. Now, please keep quiet," the older 
woman said. She turned to her partner. "As I was saying, a nice twice-a-week 
fuck, lights out, on her back, whispering sweet nothings to him."

 "I don't know. I'll bet she takes it both ways. Look at her knees, I'll bet she's 
been on her knees sucking cock at least twice this week already!" Diane's head 
was swimming - did they know something or had they overheard her name in 
the gym? She wanted to get up and run out of the room, but Liz had told her to 
stay and she did not want to get on her bad side.

 "Diane? Would you spread your legs a bit wider? We'd like to see what he's 
selling these days." She felt her stomach knot. They knew. They were in on it, 
Liz was in on it, and they were putting her on display here in the sauna for these 
crones. Tears welled in her eyes - they immediately dried in the heat. "Come on, 
honey, don't be shy.  We're all women, you know..." The two of them laughed.  
"Come on. Feet up on the bench and open up!"  The woman's voice was stern 
now, like a schoolteacher scolding an errant child. Diane leaned back and closed 
her eyes. She spread her knees and reluctantly raised her right leg. She planted 
her foot on the bench.

 "Both feet," the older woman reminded her. Sobbing now, Diane raised her 
other foot. She felt the hot air between her legs, on her thighs and her exposed 
cunt lips. "Open yourself up a bit."  She wasn't sure which of them had said it. 
Things were blending together now. She reached down with one hand and 
spread her lips slightly apart.

 "Oh, come on, you can do better than that. Here..." the younger woman 
stood up and lunged at Diane.  She stuck her thumbs up inside Diane and used 
them to spread her open wide. "This is nice. I'll bet those boys loved you last 
night, hm?" She ran her fingernail over Diane's thigh, tracing a small figure 8. 
Then, she let go and went back to her seat.

 Diane kept her eyes closed, sobbing softly, hands on her ankles to keep her 
feet from slipping off the bench. Several minutes later, she heard them get up 
and leave the room without a word. She put her feet down and her legs back 
together.  Liz came and knocked on the door. She opened it and stuck her head 
in.

 "You did OK. You can get dressed and go home now."

Chapter 16

 After her humiliation in the sauna, Diane didn't feel she could go home. She 
drifted around town, shopping, sipping coffee in espresso bars, nosing around in 
bookstores. She didn't want to go home and face everything she'd find there:  the 
email, her husband, her daughter, her life. It was getting close to four o'clock 
when she finally pulled up in her driveway. Like it or not, this was her life and 
she had to go back to it. She was the first one home and she immediately went to 
the PC to find out what they were going to want next. The email told her that 
she had the weekend "off", but she was to do at least two sex chats and email the 
logs to SumwonElz. Things would start up again on Monday.

 The instructions were to show up at the Motel 6 again, this time wearing a 
red blazer and a leather bra underneath. She was to find a bra that would leave 
her nipples exposed. She could wear whatever else she wanted, pants, skirt, but 
they were to be black. The email said to be at the hotel at 11, and to make sure 
she didn't skip her workout at the gym. There were dozens of other emails from 
strangers who'd heard about her via postings SumwonElz had done in a variety 
of sex-related newsgroups. There were still no instructions from him about how 
to handle them, so she deleted them all quickly.

+ + +

 On Saturday, she told her husband she needed to go shopping for clothes for 
a dinner party they were invited to in a week or two. He was busy with his 
reading and nodded, ignoring her. She wondered for a moment whether he'd 
even care if they delivered the logs, but then she realized what would happen 
and left the house.

 Diane drove to the Erotic Warehouse again and looked around for the 
leather clothes she needed. They had several different kinds. She selected one 
that fit the requirements and paid cash. Then, she shopped for a red blazer. She 
had two at home, but didn't want to corrupt them with the stench of what her life 
was becoming.

+ + +

 That night when everyone was in bed, she signed on again. There were 
more emails asking for meetings.  Many of them were referring to places in 
Chicago. Did they know? She checked her profile. He'd changed it again. 
Mentioned her city and listed a whole new set of sick hobbies. She winced when 
she saw he'd added "enemas" to the list from last time. Several IMs sprang to 
life on her screen.  She went through the motions of the online chats without any 
energy at all, just the knowledge that if she didn't play the game, her logs 
wouldn't be convincing and who knew what they'd do to her?

+ + +

 Monday morning, she woke up with a feeling of optimism. She couldn't 
explain it. Nothing had changed in her life, she'd mailed the logs Saturday night 
(actually Sunday morning) and had no response. Maybe the lack of response 
made her think he'd moved on? She made coffee and toast for herself, ignored 
the temptation to check the computer. There was an assignment and if he had 
anything else to add, fuck him. She'd go through the motions of Friday's 
assignment and to hell with them all.

 Her rebellious feelings faded slowly but by the time she got to the gym, 
they were gone. She saw Liz and was again confronted with the reality of her 
situations. She was a whore. They told her when and who to fuck. It was that 
simple.

 "Come on, let's get on with it!" Liz said, giving her a hug around the 
shoulder. "You look so forlorn today!" She didn't wait for an answer, just 
walked off to work with one of the other customers. Diane dressed and went into 
her routine. She saw Liz watching her now and then, checking on her, giving her 
stern looks when she didn't seem to be sweating hard enough. When she 
finished, she went into the showers and let the hot water wash away the pain in 
her muscles.  She stepped out of the shower and walked back to the locker room. 
Liz was there, standing beside her locker. The locker was open.

 "I just wanted to reassure you that it's OK to dress here, no need to change 
into your uniform in the car or anything like that," Liz said with a twisted smile. 
She reached into the locker and took the leather bra out of a crumpled brown 
bag. "Don't be shy, go ahead and put it on." She threw it to Diane. Diane looked 
around the room. At least they were alone.

 "Do you..."

 "Shut up and put it on," Liz barked. Diane threw the towel into the basket 
and took the bra from her. She wrapped it around herself and buckled it into 
place. Liz helped her, adjusting the cups and tugging her nipples until they were 
centered through the round openings. "It's a nice look for you," Liz said. She 
leaned forward and gave Diane a kiss on the lips, then turned and walked back 
out to the gym floor. Diane felt weak, how much was she going to be subjected 
to?

+ + +

 Diane showed up at the hotel room number she'd been given at precisely 
eleven. When she knocked, the door opened and she was waved inside by a 
middle aged man in a suit. He didn't speak much, just laid $50 on the dresser 
and started undressing. She took her cue and removed her clothes. It was a 
mechanical fuck, he climbed on top of her, grunted a few times, and got off. 
Then, he stood up, got dressed and left. She put her head down in her hands and 
sobbed slightly. This didn't even have the excitement of the cyber fucks she'd 
had on the weekend. When she'd pulled on her clothes and got down to the car, 
there was a note on the windshield. She was to go to another room right away. 
She looked back at the hotel and saw that a man was standing in a window on 
the second floor looking at her. The note said room 210. She climbed the stairs 
and looked.  Room 210 was the room with the curtains open and the man 
standing, watching.

 "So, you just finished one downstairs?" he asked as he slipped off his shoes.

 "Yes," she answered, wondering what his game was.

 "Did it feel good?" He was unbuttoning his shirt.

 "Feel good?"

 "You know. Did you like it?" She felt trapped. What was the right answer, 
what was he fishing for?

 "It was all right," she said, trying to steer a middle course.

 "Well, I just wondered. You know. You must do it all day long, I always 
wondered what that was like..." He was naked now except for his briefs.

 "Are we going to talk?" she asked, hoping she might get away with not 
fucking him by telling him a story. Maybe he wanted to masturbate.

 "No, I was just trying to be polite. Come on over here and kiss me." She 
raised her hand.

 "We don't kiss, that's part of the deal."

 "I paid extra and I was told you'll kiss me." He stepped closer, his arms out 
and his cock half erect already. Diane knew this was part of what they were 
using her for and knew she couldn't resist. She raised her arms and wrapped 
them around his neck. His mouth opened and he stuck a wet tongue between her 
lips. She opened her mouth wide, gagging on his foul breath. He was slurping 
and dripping down her cheek and she had to close her eyes to keep from passing 
out.

 "C'mon baby, you know you love it," he muttered between kisses. His hands 
were on her ass, squeezing tight. He moved one hand around to her cunt and slid 
a finger inside her. "You're going to love this..." She opened her legs, trying to 
let him in without hurting her. He was clumsy and anxious.

 "Baby, I'd love to feel you inside me," she moaned, trying to move him 
along.

 "Oh yeah, see?" he said with a triumphant sound. "You're gonna love it." 
She laid down on the bed, spread her legs and he climbed on top of her. He 
pumped quick and hard, anxiously working himself inside her.

 "Oh lover, come on!" she cooed. He came in minutes.

+ + +

 Back at the car again, she found another note. They were keeping close to 
her today. The note listed an address in one of the middle-income suburbs and 
just said "drive there." She crumpled it and threw it on the ground. The address 
was about fifteen minutes away and when she arrived, there were two cars 
parked outside. The house had a FOR SALE sign on the lawn. She parked and 
walked up the steps to the front door.

 "Ah, we've been waiting for you!" said one of the two men inside. "This is 
going to be the perfect place for the two of you, just wait and see!" Obviously 
the salesman, she thought. The other man was dressed in a black suit and didn't 
say anything. He just nodded to her, indicating she should enter.

 "So, where do you want to start the tour?" he asked.

 "The basement," the man in black said in a flat voice.

 "Sure, sure. Come on around here." The salesman went on and on about the 
living room and kitchen as he walked them to the steps. Diane nodded her head 
and muttered "oh yes" now and then to try and make this surreal situation seem 
somewhat more normal.

 "As you can see, they've rewired everything but the basement is not 
finished..." the man was saying. The man in black raised his hand and the 
salesman stopped talking.

 "Diane, come over here to the middle of the room." She followed him. 
"Now, raise your arms above your head and see if you can grasp the beams." 
She looked at the salesman who had a nervous look on his face. Her arms went 
up. The ceiling was higher than normal, she could barely touch the crossbeams. 
"Do you think they're strong enough to support her weight?" the man in black 
asked the salesman.

 "Excuse me?" he muttered.

 "Never mind. Diane, step over to the wall." She lowered her arms and 
walked to the concrete wall. The man in black stepped up to her and pulled off 
the blazer. The salesman's eyes bulged as he saw her nipples poking through the 
leather. "Now, face the wall, arms spread wide, press against the stone." She 
assumed the position he was describing. He walked to the wall and pressed her 
left knee with his hand. "Spread them a bit wider." She turned red, wondering 
what the salesman was thinking. She turned her head away from him.
 "This is good. I think we can make the necessary arrangements. Stay there a 
few minutes while I look at the rest of the house." The man in black went back 
to the staircase and walked up. Diane kept her eyes closed. Her thoughts were 
racing. What would the salesman think? What would he do? She heard the 
footsteps upstairs walking slowly through the dining room, kitchen, bedrooms. 
The salesman didn't budge as near as she could tell. There were no noises in the 
basement at all. After what seemed like a long, long time, the man in black came 
back down the stairs.
 "We'll take it. I think it's fine. Diane, go up to the bedroom and take off the 
blazer and your pants." He motioned for the salesman to go up the stairs ahead 
of him. The two of them walked outside and talked at the curb while Diane 
walked up and found the bedroom. She removed the blazer and her pants, shoes, 
panties, and stockings. There were no curtains on the window and she looked 
out. They were still talking. She sat down beside the door and waited. The 
salesman walked into the room and looked at her.
 "He's gone. I guess you can go too." She looked at him. He wasn't going to 
fuck her. She somehow felt more totally humiliated by the fact that this man was 
not a paying customer. "Hope you like the place," he said, trying to sound as 
nonchalant as possible. He dropped a business card on the floor beside her, then 
turned and walked away. She leaned forward and cried for a long time before 
she got dressed and left.

Chapter 17

 It was Tuesday morning. Diane lay in bed staring at the ceiling. James had 
left for work early and her daughter just pulled out of the driveway on her way 
to school. She looked at the yellowing paint. Just three weeks ago, she might 
have been thinking about repainting, about decorating this room or some other. 
Now, her thoughts kept racing back to the depraved state of her life. At the beck 
and call of some online thug who was sending her out to fuck for money. 
Blackmailing her with her own words from the chat rooms and, now, probably 
photographs and tapes of her sessions with these strangers.

 There was no way out. The one man she thought might help her turned out 
to be simply another pimp. He might have been one of the blackmailers or just a 
hired hand. Who knew and what did it matter? Her body was theirs and there 
was no end in sight. Her body itself felt better than it had in years. Their intense 
program at the gym - an hour minimum a day, 7 days a week, longer sometimes 
- was working. Her body looked great, she was firm and toned everywhere. 
When she wore the clothes they assigned to her, she looked good, sexy, sharp. 
Diane rolled over and buried her head in the pillow - it was sick for her to have 
any positive thoughts about this whole ordeal! They were raping her, and doing 
it by remote control, with other men's bodies. These men thought they were 
buying a whore, what would they think if they knew the whole story? They 
probably wouldn't care, she thought.

 She thought about the old women in the sauna. They acted like this was 
totally normal. Like they'd seen it a hundred times before. Then, the real estate 
deal. They'd shown her off to the agent, had her exhibit herself standing on her 
ties, arms above her head, nipples exposed, then didn't even offer her to him. 
That made her feel more used than many of the other sex acts she'd had to 
perform.

 When she finally got out of bed and checked the email, it said "take a day 
off, check for mail at 8 tomorrow morning sharp." She went to the kitchen and 
had a light breakfast, then dressed and went to the gym. The atmosphere there 
was lighter somehow. Liz didn't talk to her much, the workout was routine, none 
of the men seemed to give her any special attention. She felt worse, it made her 
feel like just another hooker in the brothel, not even worth the time to talk to if 
there wasn't anything planned for the day.

 That afternoon, she spent some of the hooking money and treated herself to 
a movie. It was a thriller and she let herself relax into it. What could they do in 
the movie that would possibly terrify her? she wondered. Back at home, she 
went through her IN box again. There were the usual requests from strangers for 
chats or real time meetings. She didn't even bother checking what SumwonElz 
might have put in her profile, she just deleted the messages. There was an email 
with the Subject line: Have you had enough of him? She opened it and read it 
with curiosity.

 "Diane, we're seeing what we can do. What does he have on you?" It was 
from someone called  Her2U. She read it several times and wondered what it 
was about. There was no online profile for this person. Diane sent a reply, but it 
was immediately rejected with "No Such UserID". The same as she'd 
experienced with SumwonElz. Another hacker playing games with her? She 
deleted the message.

 The rest of the day was her old routine - clean the house, vacuum, do some 
reading. She hardly understood the words, She wanted some semblance of 
normalcy back in her life.

+ + +

 Wednesday, 7:45 a.m. James was just finishing dressing and her daughter 
was sitting at the breakfast table reading the newspaper.

 "Mom, Linda's mom said she saw you at the gym the other day. What's up 
with that?" Diane turned and looked at her daughter. She'd considered this and 
had her story ready.

 "I've been going for a few weeks now, just something to take up my time..."

 "She says you work your ass off. Ooops, sorry, mom. I meant that as a 
compliment." Diane looked at James. He wasn't reacting at all.

 "Well, I figured if I was going to go, I might as well really work at it..." She 
turned to the stove and stirred some eggs in the pan. It was 7:50, she needed to 
get to the computer by 8:00. "Are you two ready?"

 "Well, I'm set," James said, swallowing a cup of coffee and picking up his 
keys. "Now, you're home here at five, right, so we can get out to get that 
shopping done?" he asked.

 "I'll be here at five," she answered, praying that there was not going to be 
any reason not to be home by five.

 "Wonderful." He pulled on his jacket and kissed her on the cheek. 
"Goodbye." As James walked out the door, Diane turned to her daughter.

 "So, does Linda's mom go to the gym often?" She was terrified they would 
run into each other and start talking.

 "Oh no, she saw you through the window. She doesn't work out at all. If 
you think YOU need it, you should see her!" Diane was relieved.

 "Well, you get on your way, I'm going to go up and wash my hair."

 "OK. Bye mom." Diane went upstairs and listened for her daughter to leave. 
It was 8:02 when she signed on and looked for mail. "Ding!"

 - SumwonElz: One minute late.
 - SubDiane: My clock says 8:00. Sorry.
 - SumwonElz: All right. I am going to give you an address. I want to see 
you there at 8:30 sharp. Dress in whatever you like. Do NOT be late.
 - SubDiane: How long will we be there? "Member is no longer logged on"
She laughed. She knew she might as well get used to not having questions 
answered. She looked in her email and found the note with the address. It was 
about a twenty minute ride, she wouldn't have time to shower. He'd said "dress 
in whatever you like" and she took advantage of it. Grey sweat pants and top, 
bra and panties underneath, white socks and running shoes. Whoever saw her 
was not going to get turned on. Maybe that would buy her some time. For what? 
she wondered with a feeling of despondency.

+ + +

 Diane stood on the front porch knocking at the door. It had been several 
minutes already and no one had answered. She looked around. There were two 
cars in the driveway and a neighbor standing on her porch watching Diane with 
a curious look. She knocked again and the door opened. There was a woman 
inside dressed in a gray office suit. She invited Diane in and led her into the 
basement. The lights were out and the windows were covered. There was 
enough dim light from two candles that they could make their way through the 
room but not enough for her to see if there was anyone else in it.

 With no hesitation, the woman pulled Diane's sweat pants down around her 
ankles, held each leg for her to raise her foot and step out. Then, she stood up 
and pulled the sweatshirt over Diane's head. She spun Diane around, unclasped 
the bra, spun her again and pulled the bra off. Then, she slid the panties down to 
the floor and Diane was naked.

 "They're doing nice work with you at the gym. You were kind of a pig 
when I first saw you." Diane didn't flinch. Fuck her. "Here we go now," the 
woman said. She raised Diane's left arm and pulled a leather cuff down from 
somewhere above. She secured it around Diane's wrist, then did the same with 
her right one. With another quick motion, she'd pulled a rope down from a 
pulley and ran the end through a metal loop on the left cuff. Then, she pulled the 
other end of the rope and Diane's arm was raised to the ceiling beam. The 
woman did the same with Diane's right wrist.

 "Spread your legs for me." Diane complied, nervous and anxious about 
what the woman might do next. "Keep them spread wide and I won't have to tie 
them." The woman turned her back and walked away. Diane heard her 
rummaging around somewhere in the room. Then, she returned with a leather 
hood. She pulled it over Diane's head, adjusted the pads that covered her eyes 
and the small plug that fit into her mouth. There was a sound as zippers were 
opened and the flaps that covered her ears were removed. Something that felt 
like cotton was stuffed into each ear. The woman walked away and Diane was 
left in the darkness for several minutes.

 Then, she felt a hand between her legs, followed by four metal balls being 
inserted into her cunt. Four more were inserted into her ass. A device was 
pressed against her belly and she felt belts being pulled around behind her. They 
were strapping something in place. When they slid it down several inches, she 
suspected it was a vibrator. What else would they put there?

 "Diane, we wanted to tell you a little bit about what's going on," she heard a 
voice say. The cotton muffled the voice and she couldn't tell if it was a woman 
or a man. "We feel it's time for you to know a bit more about what we are doing. 
You have probably come to the conclusion that we are interested in selling your 
body for money. You certainly have enough evidence for that conclusion. 
However, you would be wrong." She listened hard, still trying to determine the 
sex of the speaker.

 "It is true that it has been convenient to use you this way. We have 
commitments that must be met and you've served admirably. That is not why we 
have come for you. Our goal is much more plain and simple than that. We 
followed your descent into cybersex, found your name and address, looked you 
over, and decided that we wanted you as a sex slave. It's that simple. Nothing 
more, nothing less.

 "What we are going to have from you is your complete and utter obedience 
to our every whim. You may have noticed that humiliation has figured into 
several of your encounters. That is part of what we do. Part of what we enjoy. It 
might or might not be part of your training, who cares? We just like it, so we are 
going to do it. We are going to destroy you, then rebuild you as our sex toy. You 
are free to maintain your home life if you like, as long as it doesn't interfere with 
our wants.

 "We will have your total obedience. Let me give you an example of where 
we're going with you:  our goal, my dear - and it's a "when" not an "if" - is to get 
you to the point where I can let you loose with a bunch of testosterone soaked, 
sex-starved college boys who've been drinking and watching the most disgusting 
porno videos you can imagine, I can let you go with them in a barnyard 
surrounded by animals, with a tool shed filled with B/D gear, and make it so that 
you will eagerly comply with anything they can come up with.

 "One new rule for you to start obeying, beginning tomorrow morning. You 
are NEVER to turn down a direct request for sex by a man or woman. It might 
be someone I've sent, it might not. You will never know and it's much safer for 
you this way. Also, no panties from now on unless specifically requested. You 
will receive other instructions as we move forward. Have I made myself clear?"
 Diane was shaking her head slowly side to side and muttering, "no, no, no" 
inside the hood.

 "I asked you a question and I expect an answer." She felt the hot tears 
bathing her face inside the mask and just shook her head slowly. There was a 
burst of pain across her back and she screamed inside the hood. The second hit 
came and she realized someone was whipping her.  She put her feet together and 
stood up, moving her body to try and avoid the next blow.

 "I told you about your feet, didn't I?" she heard a voice, the woman's. 
"Spread them." Diane started to move her feet and she felt the whip across her 
back again. She spread her legs wide. "Now, will you answer my question?  Did 
I make myself clear?" She nodded, shaking her head hard and begging through 
the gag for them to stop hitting her. She was terrified James would see the marks 
and everything would be revealed.

 "Good. That's better. Here, I'll give you the whip as long as you're good." 
She felt the leather whip being coiled around her neck and left to hang, the 
handle and lash passing across her breasts. "You're going to spend some time 
here listening to tapes of yourself being fucked by some of your customers. The 
vibrator might help you enjoy them a little more than you normally might." The 
device that had been strapped to her was indeed a vibrator and they turned it on. 
She felt the gentle buzz against her clit. She tightened her muscles and felt the 
balls moving around inside her. There might have been a slight "click" but she 
couldn't tell for certain.

 Someone removed the cotton and put headphones over her ears. She heard 
some heavy breathing, then talking, moaning, and creaking of springs. She could 
picture it, this was the third fuck, she could even feel the man's weight on her as 
she listened to the moaning and groaning sounds the two of them were making. 
It was turning her on, she couldn't escape the combination of feelings in her 
head and in her body. She felt an orgasm coming. It broke over her, but the 
sounds didn't slow down or stop, the vibrator didn't pause. It was an annoying 
feeling between her legs now but after several minutes, it became pleasure 
again. She tried to put it out of her mind but couldn't. It came over her again, she 
felt her insides churning and the balls moving around, clattering against each 
other and against the walls of her vagina and ass. The moaning was getting more 
intense, the couple on the tape were about to cum again. When they did, she did.
 She eventually lost all sense of time, rocking her hips, pressing her legs 
together, spreading them apart, humping the air and shaking her breasts from 
side to side hoping for some contact. She felt a river of drool running from the 
gag down her cheek and onto her chest, between her breasts, over her belly. 
Occasionally, she'd feel a hand or some other object touch some part of her 
body. It might be in the small of her back, one of the lips of her cunt, or a hand 
roughly squeezing a breast. She'd move her body toward it as much as she 
could, craving the touch of a second person. She felt like she'd pass out when 
her breathing got faster and faster. She couldn't breath well through the hood, 
there were only small mesh holes for air - it was always hot and moist.

 Once, through a thick haze of lust, she noticed a feeling far off, then 
realized that someone had been spanking her ass with a ruler for several 
minutes. She loved the burning stripe right across the middle of both cheeks. 
She offered her ass as much as she could, churned her thighs and brought herself 
to another wild explosion of an orgasm.

 It went on like this for several hours, with only pauses to change the tape or 
the batteries in the vibrator. When she heard the tape stop and felt the vibrator 
stop buzzing, her entire body went limp. She let her weight hang from the 
wrists, though it hurt her shoulders and neck, she found her legs couldn't bear 
the weight. Someone untied her and carried her up the stairs. She tried but 
couldn't move her arms or legs. She felt them slipping her sweats onto her, then 
her shoes. Finally, someone removed the hood. Her hair was matted and her face 
was covered with her own saliva and sweat.

 "Do not EVER, EVER forget who is in charge of your life," the woman 
said. Then, she leaned over and kissed Diane on the lips. "Go home and get 
cleaned up."

Chapter 18

 Diane cried for quite a while in the shower that afternoon. She'd made it 
home by four, hoped she had enough time to wash up and dress before James 
showed up for their shopping trip. She was terrified that the whipping had left 
marks and that he would see them. When she got out of the shower, she forced 
herself to look at her back in the mirror. Sure enough, there were marks. They 
looked like they might go away in a couple of days but they would be 
impossible to explain. She considered letting him see them, revealing 
everything, begging for help and forgiveness. But she didn't trust his response. It 
all started with her cybersex, she recalled, and he would remind her of that. Hold 
it over her head. Maybe divorce her, throw her out, ruin her.

 They went shopping that night, bought more materials for the work they 
were doing on the basement, then office supplies for a pamphlet he was self-
publishing on the evils of the internet. He had her read it in the car. It outlined 
how was the tool of the devil and was robbing children of their
innocence, couples of their privacy, and unpopular ideas of their audience. Even 
though, he argued, everyone was granted a forum for expressing opinions, the 
glut of information would cause the right opinions - and he outlined several of 
his favorite websites as examples - would be lost in the data explosion.

 She tensed as she read three paragraphs outlining couples whose marriages 
had been ruined when the husband or wife ran off with a lover met in 
cyberspace. It even talked about sex in chat rooms and the possibility of 
blackmail resulting from those encounters. Did he know? Was he involved?  She 
looked at James with a fresh curiosity. Was there any chance, any chance at all, 
that he was INVOLVED in the entire thing? Some way of sneaking excitement 
into their sex life?

 She rejected the thought but it nagged at the back of her head for the rest of 
the night.

+ + +

 Diane was changing into her exercise sweats when two huge men walked 
into the ladies dressing room. They ordered two of the other women who were 
there out, Diane was to stay. She recognized them, she'd seen them in the gym 
pretty consistently since she'd joined. They were six foot plus, two-hundred 
pound masses of buffed up bodybuilder.

 "Get out of those," one of them ordered her.

 "Excuse me?" she said, hoping it might have some effect. They looked at 
each other and laughed.

 "Do you want to do it or do you want us to do it?" She pulled the sweats off 
and stood in her bra and panties. "Off." She looked toward the door, then toward 
the stalls, hoping no one would walk in. She pulled off her bra and panties. 
"Good. Now, pull on this." He handed her a jet black Spandex body stocking. It 
looked like a doll's outfit there in his hand. She couldn't believe the fabric would 
stretch enough to cover her entire body. Tentatively, she slid her left foot into 
the stocking. As she pulled it on, it fit snugly all the way to her thigh. She pulled 
on the right leg, then tugged the suit over her hips. She noticed that the material 
had some 'give' and looked down. The crotch was cut out and her cunt was 
exposed. The fabric around the edges of the cut were reinforced. At least it 
wouldn't unravel. At its widest, the opening was only about an inch, but that was 
enough for the hairs and part of her lips to show through. She looked at them. 
Their faces revealed nothing.

 The snug fabric tugged between her legs as she pulled it up over her breasts, 
then slid her arms into the sleeves. There was material that came down over her 
hands, a strap that ran  across the web between her thumb and index finger. Her 
fingers and thumbs were exposed. The top was a small scoop just below the base 
of her neck.

 "I can't go out like this!" she protested. One of them handed her a small 
piece of material. She recognized it - it was a bright red thong, like the white one 
they'd given her when this all began. She stepped into it and pulled it up 
between her legs.

 "That covers you, doesn't it?" In her mind, it might as well have been a 
Band-Aid. If she moved too much either way, it might slip, she would be 
exposed to anyone's view. "Get your sneakers on and let's go." She was gripped 
by panic. Her mind raced. How could she avoid this? The voice yesterday had 
mentioned humiliation - they weren't kidding.

 "Listen, listen, I have an idea..." Diane pulled the thong off and threw it 
across the room. She walked to the first man and wrapped her arms around him. 
"Fuck me. Take me here, come on, I'll do anything you ask. I've been fucking 
like mad the last few weeks and I really need some cock. Please, let's just stay 
here and fuck..." She was rubbing against him, took his hand and slid it down 
her belly to the opening in the body suit. The two men looked at each other and 
grinned.

 "Well, hey, who'll know?" The other man turned to Diane.

 "OK, but you need to get on your knees and take it like a dog. Like a hot 
bitch in heat. That's what you are, isn't it?" She turned red but saw she could 
avoid going out into the gym.

 "Will you lock the door?"

 "Hell, no."

 "Hey, it could be our jobs..."

 "You're right. Come on, let's take her back into the laundry room." Diane 
pulled the thong back into place and the three of them walked through the gym 
and into the laundry. They took turns at her, fucking her twice each. One of 
them picked the thong up off of the ground.

 "Have a nice day," he said, walking out the door, thong in hand. She looked 
around, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her waist. She walked back 
through the gym to the women's locker room, got dressed, and headed out to her 
car in the parking lot. She felt like she'd won some slight kind of victory.

+ + +

 There was a man leaning against the driver's door of Diane's minivan. She 
was several cars away when she saw him. He looked directly at her and didn't 
say anything until she was standing near the front of her own car.

 "Hello, Diane. I could use a ride. We're both going to the same place, after 
all." He gave her a wide smile and motioned for her to open the door. She took 
out her key and unlocked the driver's door. The stranger walked around to the 
other door, opened it and climbed in.

 "Where are we going?" she asked. Her hands were tense on the steering 
wheel and she was staring straight ahead.

 "Start the car." Diane reached for the key and turned it. The engine turned 
and caught quickly. "Go on, get out into traffic." She backed out of the parking 
space and pulled out of the lot and onto the main road. He gave her instructions 
as they drove. She started to recognize some of the streets and thought she knew 
where they were going. When he had her pull into the driveway, she was certain. 
It was the same house she'd been taken instructed to drive to the other day.
 "Pull into the drive and park in the back." When she'd parked, he opened his 
door and walked around. He opened her door, then led her in through the back 
door of the house. They walked down the stairs to the basement again. The 
windows were still covered but there was a lamp. Diane looked around the 
room. There were a variety of devices hanging from hooks on the walls - 
devices made of wood, metal, leather, chains and other materials she didn't 
recognize. There were also two other people there. She recognized the woman 
from her last visit. And there was another man, dressed in blue and leaning 
against the wall.

 "Strip," he told her. When she was naked, the woman approached her again 
and restrained her in the same position as last time, using the ropes and cuffs 
from the ceiling to secure her. This time, the woman also buckled her into a 
spreader bar - a four foot wide metal pipe with soft leather cuffs at each end. 
They fitted he with the vibrator and headphones again. This time, they didn't put 
the hood over her head. She could see them and watched them watch her.

 The routine was the same as last time. They made her listen to audio tapes 
of herself being used by a variety of her "customers" while the vibrator buzzed 
gently between her legs. She tried to hold off the first orgasm but couldn't. From 
then on, she knew it was hopeless. She surrendered to it, even though she could 
see them watching her. Sometimes they would comment on how she looked. 
Several times, one or another of them would approach and touch her. Licking a 
nipple. Fingering her cunt. Slapping her bottom. She came over and over, some 
of them close together, sometimes she was able to think about other things and 
resist. But, eventually, she'd come back to the feeling. They knew it and she 
knew that they knew. Finally, they let her down. It was the same as last time, 
she collapsed to the floor. Her legs wouldn't support her. The woman threw her 
clothes on the floor in front of her.

 "You have ten minutes to be out of the house. Take the weekend off, but 
look for mail on Sunday night.  Monday is going to be a busy day for you."

Chapter 19

 On Sunday night, Diane waited until everyone was asleep before she signed 
on to check her mail. There were dozens of emails stacked up again. The one 
from SumwonElz said she would be at the Palmer House again at noon. He gave 
a room number and instructions on what to wear.

+ + +

 Her2U watched as SumwonElz hacked into the system again. She traced his 
hack and he was calling from the same place again. He was getting lazy. Not 
sloppy, just lazy. She watched as he received the notice that SubDiane had read 
her email. He didn't reply. She was relieved about that.

+ + +

 Diane immediately recognized the two muscle men from the dressing 
room. She must have had a panicked look because one of them raised a hand.

 "We're not here for anything like last time. This is different. In fact, we 
want to do something nice for you." She tensed as they both approached. One 
held his arms behind her back while the other started kissing her hard and 
rubbing his hands over her body. She fought for a few minutes, but finally gave 
up and relaxed into it. She felt herself getting turned on. He was handsome, built 
like a body builder, and rough and firm. He moved his hands over her back, her 
hips, her thighs. She parted her legs slightly, getting more turned on every 
minute. He started rubbing two of his fingers between her legs.  She spread her 
knees and kissed him harder.

 After several minutes, she felt the orgasm build. She closed her eyes and 
started to let go. She moaned loudly and pressed herself against his hand. When 
she finally came, the man behind her clamped his hand over her mouth. When 
her trembling stopped, they both let go and walked away.

 "OK, now get out there and do your workout." She looked down at her suit. 
The crotch was soaked, a three or four inch circle that spread down to her upper 
thighs and up nearly to her belly.

 "I...I can't go out there like this..."

 "We let you say no last week, this week it isn't your turn. You have two 
minutes." Diane looked around in panic. There was no time to change and no 
way her clothes would dry in just two minutes. She ran into the bathroom and 
pulled some hand towels out of the dispenser. She pushed it between her legs, 
trying to soak up the dampness. She pulled another handful, and another. The 
clock was ticking and she knew they'd come back. She looked in the mirror, the 
spot wasn't so prominent. It was as good as it was going to get.

 Diane walked out into the gym. The two were standing, waiting. One was 
looking at his watch. He nodded. She went directly to the step master, hoped 
that she could work up a sweat quickly enough that the spot wouldn't be 
obvious. No one stared at her, she thought it had probably worked.

+ + +

 At the hotel again, she watched for her opportunity to get past the 
concierge. As she'd expected, he eventually had to leave his post. This time, it 
was to help some customer with driving instructions. She got to the elevator and 
went to room 418.

 "Okay, get naked then put on this hood." The man handed her a hood that 
covered her head but left her mouth exposed. There was a metal ring that fitted 
inside, behind her teeth, held in place by small snaps in the hood. She put it on 
and twisted it until it fit into place. "On your hands and knees now. Ass high in 
the air. I want to see you crawl around the room a few times..." Diane cried as 
she dropped to her knees. She raised her ass high, put her head to the carpet. 
Slowly, she crawled around the room. She heard him muttering his approval as 
she crept around.

 "Nice ass. Nice little ass. I like the tight little hole. Have you taken many 
cocks in that little hole?" He kept up a litany of filth as she crawled around the 
room. She ignored most of it. It was a trifle after what she'd been through. "OK, 
that's it. I'm nice and hard now. Come on over here and let's see how your mouth 
feels around my cock." She came close and he knelt in front of her. He grabbed 
her head and started to fuck her mouth. He pushed deep and fucked quickly. She 
had a hard time catching her breath between the stabs he was making. Finally, 
he pushed deep and held it in hard, shooting his sperm down into her throat.

 "Nice, nice tight little throat..." he moaned as he unloaded into her. He 
pulled back and let a trickle of cum drip from her lower lip, down onto her chin. 
"The money's by the door," he said. Diane unsnapped the hood and massaged 
her jaw, trying to get the feeling back. He handed Diane her clothes. "Head 
down the hall to room 420." She dressed and left the room. 420 was the next 
room down the hall. She knocked on the door and waited. When the door 
opened, she saw three men inside.

 "Whoa! Not bad!"

 "Well, hey, what did he promise? Right?" They invited her into the room, 
asked her if she wanted a drink.

 "No, thanks."

 "Hey, we've got a surprise for you." She looked at them. They were young, 
early 20's probably. They were dressed nicely, probably college kids, she 
thought.

 "You're SubDiane, right?" one of them asked. She felt a cold fist in her 
stomach. What did they know?

 "Who told you that?"

 "That's why you're here, right? Playing games with your master?" She 
wondered how much they knew. She decided she wouldn't try anything 
dangerous.

 "Yes, that's what he tells me."

 "Good. Because, we all have the same kind of thing in mind. You might not 
remember, a chat with MrMaster?" She had no idea what he was talking about. 
There were so many chats during that time, way back when in a past life. 
"MrMaster. Remember? And two of my friends came in? You swore you'd do it 
for us in real life, if you could? Well, here's your chance!"

 "What? What?" she screamed. "Who the fuck are you?"

 "Oh Diane, don't play games. Let's get this on. Listen, you can call us Tom, 
Dick and Harry, OK? We like to hear you talk. You were so good online... Hope 
you're half that good on your back." Tom reached out for her and pulled her skirt 
up. "Yum yum!" he said. "Let's see you naked." Diane stripped, watching them.  
She wondered what they had in mind, hoped she could get it over with quickly. 
While she was undressing, Harry went into the bathroom. He returned with two 
beer bottles.

 "Open this for me," he said, handing her a cold, full bottle. She started to 
twist the cap. "No, no. Hold it between your titties and unscrew it with your 
teeth. Don't you remember the games we played?" She panicked. What else had 
she done?  She remembered some times but knew that it couldn't be them. It 
couldn't...

 "It couldn't..." she murmured out loud, starting to cry. She took the cold 
bottle and pressed it between her breasts. "Could you at least put a washrag over 
it so I don't chip a tooth?" she asked. Harry smiled.

 "Sure." She leaned down and wrapped her mouth around the cap. With a 
quick twist, it popped off. She was relieved.

 "Oh, honey, what's wrong?" Dick asked, wiping a tear from her cheek. 

"You were so HOT on the chat? Are you backing out on us now?" She felt one 
of them behind her, rubbing his cock between her legs. She squatted slightly, 
opening her lips for him to enter. He slid into her and started pumping. Tom 
started kissing her, pinched her nipples in his fingers. He pulled hard, stretching 
her breasts and nipples and shaking them slightly up and down.

 "Remember you said you loved this? You asked for this  so many times!" 
Why was he doing it? Did he really think that was what she wanted? Harry 
unloaded his cum into her cunt, then pulled out and walked away. Tom let go of 
her breasts and sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached under the pillow 
and pulled out an empty catsup bottle.

 "Do the bottle thing," he said, handing it to her. Diane started crying now, 
she remembered who they were. They'd spend nearly four hours on the chat, 
using her in a dozen different ways. And the 'bottle thing' was one of their 
favorite. She begged them to let her go, to just remember the chat. They 
laughed. "Not with all the money we paid!" Diane reached for the empty bottle. 
Moving slowly, she set it on the floor and squatted over it, still hoping they 
might be satisfied with seeing her like this.

 "Enough?" she asked.

 "Do it." She covered her face and squatted lower. She felt the opening of 
the bottle meet her cunt. She slid slowly down, feeling it slide into her. She took 
most of the bottle into herself. The base was about two and a half inches around 
and flared. She felt her cunt close slightly. She was past the flare. All three of 
them applauded. She covered her face and cried.

 "Walk around the room a few times!"

 "Yeah! Let's see!" She stood up, feeling the thickness between her legs. She 
couldn't bring her thighs together and walked around the room in a way she 
knew must have looked completely ridiculous. She lowered her hands, felt the 
water on her cheeks, her eyes red and hot.

 "Well, Tommy?"

 "Yeah, you up for it?" Tom stood up. "You remember this, Diane? 
Remember how I fucked you up the ass while you were like this?"

 "Oh, God, no please... please..."

 "Get over here and stand in front of me..." Tom was rubbing his cock, 
spitting on it to get it wet. Diane walked to him, turned her back toward him, 
and bend slightly over. "Guys, she wants it!" he laughed. She closed her eyes 
and took a deep breath. Tom put the head of his cock at her small hole. He 
started to push. She couldn't stretch, everything was full down there. He tried 
pushing again, but couldn't get the head past the opening.

 "Not working, guys. See, I told you!" He sat back on the bed. "Go on, 
Diane, take that thing out of you." She squatted down and reached between her 
legs. She took a firm hold of the bottom of the bottle and, squeezing her muscles 
inside, pushed it out of her. Tom told her to get back on her knees. She was 
much easier this time.

Chapter 20

 "Be at the video store at 1 pm tomorrow." It was a one line email, from 
SumwonElz as usual. He'd given her the address of a video store about twenty 
minutes from her home. It was not an adult bookstore, but one she recognized 
from its ads as part of a national chain. She shook her head - what were they up to?

 There was another email from Her2U, asking again, "what's he got on you?" 
This time, it also asked, "how long has this been going on?" She clicked "reply", 
and wrote back that she wanted to know more about the writer before she 
responded. Then, she turned off the PC and headed to the gym.

+ + +

 Diane was sipping from a bottle of cold water as she walked from the gym 
to her car. She set her gym bag on the hood and reached in her purse for her 
keys. A tall woman dressed in a grey suit approached. She was carrying a small 
envelope.

 "Here," she said, handing the envelope to Diane. "Good luck." The woman 
walked away quickly and disappeared around a corner of the building. Diane 
tore the envelope open and read: "I destroyed the book. Let Her2U know if you 
think there are videotapes." She jumped into her car and started the engine. She 
raced in the direction the woman had taken, but she was nowhere to be seen. 
The envelope and note sat on the seat beside her as she drove off to the video 
store. Did she dare hope?  Was there some mysterious stranger waiting in the 
wings to put her life back together again?

 She navigated the traffic in a daze. It was too much to hope for. It was 
probably some kind of trick, a trap by the blackmailers to test whether she'd 
rebel when she had a chance. She wasn't sure what to do. In a funk of confusion 
and frustration, Diane parked and then walked across the parking lot to the 
entrance of the bookstore. There were over a dozen cars in the parking lot and a 
variety of trucks and minivans. She didn't stick out at all. She walked in and 
looked around, wondering who she was supposed to meet. After wandering  
through the aisles for a few minutes, she saw a man walking her way. He looked 
familiar but she wasn't certain. He was dressed in a sports coat and tie, short hair 
slicked back.

 "Hello Diane. Give me your purse." Diane handed her purse over, looked up 
and down the aisle. No one was watching, no one had noticed. The man shoved 
a small bag into her purse. "Just a reminder, we have complete control here, 
don't get any ideas." She gave him a puzzled look and nodded. In another 
setting, his comment would have been comical, melodramatic.

 "Right," she said. He handed her purse back, walked straight to the door, 
and left the store. Diane looked around. Was that it? She waited a few minutes, 
then walked past the cash registers and toward the door. The store alarm started 
beeping when she walked between the detectors. She realized immediately that 
he must have put a videotape into her purse. She looked around, frightened, and 
took the package out. Sure enough, it felt like two videotapes stuffed into the 
brown paper.

 "What's that?" someone asked.  She turned around and saw the store 
manager.

 "I...I...someone handed this to me, I didn't know what it was, I..." He raised 
his hand.

 "Right, I know. It was an accident."

 "No, it wasn't! It was..."

 "A frame up. Someone is framing you, that's it?" She stopped talking. He 
wasn't listening. Why should he? She was caught red handed. The package 
crinkled as he pulled the paper back off of the videotapes. "The Story of O 
and...what's this one? Girlfriends in Bondage?" He held the two tapes side by 
side and stood looking at photos on the cover. "Interesting stuff..." She watched 
his face, wondering what he was thinking. Wondering if he was part of the 
scheme. Or a customer? There were too many possibilities and she was at their 
mercy.

 "I think you'd better come into my office." He took her by the hand and led 
her across the store. As they walked down the center aisle, she saw several 
people look at her, at the videotapes, then at her again. She wished she could 
turn invisible. The office was located down a small hallway around the back of 
the store. There was a large two-way mirror through which the manager could 
watch the store. He set her down in a chair beside his desk. He laid the tapes 
down on his desk and tapped them with a fingertip.

 "So, what are we going to do here?"

 "I wasn't involved. This isn't what you think..."

 "I don't think it's in your best interest to keep trying that story. Tell me 
another one. I'm not insulted or embarrassed by your choice in stolen goods, if 
that's what you're worried about..."

 "That isn't it at all!"

 "I guess I have to call the police."

 "No, you don't have to call the police. Just let me go home."

 "Home? To your girlfriend?"

 "Huh?"

 "No? Not that type are you? Have a husband at home you're sharing these 
with?" She panicked. What if he WAS in on this?

 "No, not him, not him at all..."

 "You're not embarrassed that I saw what you had in your purse?"

 "Well, no." He smiled.

 "So you don't mind if I know about your tastes?" She felt trapped.

 "I didn't say that."

 "You said as much. Did you WANT to be caught, is that it?" He leaned 
forward slightly. "Is there some fantasy I can help you fulfil?" Diane froze, 
watched him, hoped he'd give some sign she could use to tell if he was part of 
the conspiracy.

 "No, that isn't it..."

 "Do you imagine yourself tied up like that? Do you have a girlfriend you 
want to talk to about it?" She could see the lust in his eyes as he spoke. "Or do 
you like the idea of giving yourself over to a group of men? Being owned by 
them?"

 "You're one of them, aren't you??!" she shouted.

 "One of who?" he asked. His eyes held hers, neither of them flinched. TAP! 
They both turned their heads. The man who'd planted the tapes was standing on 
the other side of the mirror, peering into it. "Oh, I see..." the manager said. The 
man outside nodded and the manager smiled a wide grin. He looked at Diane. 
"Well, I don't think there's anything to worry about here." Without taking his 
eyes from her, he slid the tapes to a corner of the desk, then picked up Diane's 
purse.

 "Put that by the door," he said. She accepted it and put it behind her chair, 
just beside the door. "Now, come on over here and let's show your appreciation 
that I'm not calling the police." He slid his chair back and unbuckled his pants. 
Diane just sat in her chair, staring at him. "Did you misunderstand something?  I 
said come over here. Now!" The man outside stood there not moving. She didn't 
know if he could see in or not, but she knew he'd arranged the whole thing. She 
stood up and looked at the store manager. He'd dropped his pants to the floor 
and was leaning back, tugging at his shorts.

 "Let's go. I have to get back out there on the floor soon." She stepped 
between him and the desk, then knelt down between his legs. He pulled his 
shorts down around his thighs and put his hand on her head. "Come on and taste, 
honey..." Diane put her lips around the head of his cock and started sucking, 
licking the shaft and massaging his balls with her fingers. It didn't take long for 
him to cum.

 "OK, clean up and get out of here," he said, then stood up. He stopped at the 
door, reached into his pocket, and took out a twenty dollar bill. He dropped it on 
the floor beside her purse then walked out the door. Diane knelt on the floor and 
cried for several minutes, then stood up, smoothed out her skirt, and reached for 
her purse. She left his money where it was.

+ + +

 There was nothing interesting in the mail, nothing interesting on television, 
nothing on her "to do" list, nothing to distract her. She engaged in some chatter 
with her husband and daughter, but her home life was beginning to slip away 
from her. She tried to stay away from the computer the rest of that day but 
couldn't. At eleven, she went and checked her email. There were instructions 
from SumwonElz telling her to be at the Motel6 at 1 p.m. tomorrow. "Ding!"

 - Her2U: Hi.
 - SubDiane: Hi
 - Her2U: Hang in there. Are you OK?
 - SubDiane: No, I'm not OK. I'm not fucking OK at all!
 - Her2U: I'm sorry I asked that way. Has he hurt you?
 - SubDiane: Who are you?
 - Her2U: I can't tell you that.
 - SubDiane: Why are you talking to me?
 - Her2U: Just answer the questions. And quickly.
 - SubDiane: Why?
 - Her2U: Just do it. We might be monitored. Has he taken any videotape of 
you?
 - SubDiane: Videotape?
 - Her2U: He had audio tapes. Does he have videotapes?
Diane thought. She wasn't certain what he had, she'd been blindfolded in some 
of their encounters.
 - SubDiane: I don't think so. I don't know.
 - Her2U: All right, we'll have to do our best. Hang in there, Diane. Just a 
few more days.
 - SubDiane: Who are you? "Member is no longer logged on"

Her fingers were trembling when she turned off the PC. Dare she hope? If this 
was part of the blackmail plan, it was pretty elaborate. Why do it? But if it really 
was a savior, why all the secrecy?

Chapter 21

 The parking lot of the Motel 6 was beginning to look familiar, Diane 
reflected. The phone booth on one corner, the dumpster at the far end, the potted 
plants around the door of the lobby. She searched the parking lot as she walked 
along the second story walkway, looking for the assigned room. No one was 
pulling in. They were either there already or coming soon. At room 226, she 
stopped and knocked.

 A woman answered. She waved Diane in and told her to get naked and sit 
on the bed. Diane started removing her clothes. The woman sat at the desk near 
the open window and started typing on a laptop computer.

 "I have a chat going. I want you to finish it for me. Four very horny young 
men. All of them think I'm naked in a motel room at Motel 6 just outside 
Chicago." She was typing away as she talked. "They've just tied me to a bed, 
face down, and are taking turns feeling me up and poking their fingers into my 
cunt." Diane folded her clothes and put them on the dresser. She looked out the 
window. They were on the second floor, it wasn't likely anyone would look in 
and see her. "They're going to take turns with me, they're being silly, they want 
me face down for the first one, face up for the second, etc." Diane stepped 
closer.

 "Boys!" the woman giggled. "They're going to whip me with a belt, then 
turn me over and do my titties, then tie me face down again and... oh my!" The 
woman gave a fake cry of amazement, then typed more words on the screen. 
"What ARE they sticking up my ass?"

 "Why am I here?" Diane asked with fear in her voice. The woman looked 
up at her.

 "Well, I'm going to invite them over. When they get here, you're going to be 
here.  I have other things to do with my time." Diane leaned forward, grabbed 
the edge of the desk for support.

 "No, you are not! That's crazy!" The woman reached up with her hand and 
grabbed Diane's right nipple. She pulled it hard and brought Diane's face directly 
in front of her.

 "You are going to, and you are going to do it well. Do you understand?" 
Tears were welling in her eyes, the pain was intense. The woman was using her 
fingernails and pinching tight. Then, she lifted her other hand and did the same 
to Diane's other nipple. "I told them you like this..." Diane felt her body go to its 
knees as the woman twisted slightly, then pulled tighter.

 "Please...oh shit, please!" The woman let go and returned to her typing.

 "I don't want the boys to think I've forgotten them." Diane put her head 
down on the carpet, lay on the floor and cried while the woman continued the 
chat with her four accomplices. "OK, that's that!" the woman announced after a 
few more minutes. "They have the address and they're on their way." She leaned 
over and lifted Diane's head by the chin. "A lot of your future is riding on how 
this afternoon goes, you know. Be nice to them, they're regulars." She dropped 
Diane's head and stood up. Diane watched her walk across the room and leave 
out the front door.

 The room was empty and quiet. It was peaceful, almost like a vacation from 
her life. She wanted to stay there on the floor, just become part of the room, not 
have to face the rest of the day, or the rest of her life. There was a knock on the 
door and Diane realized she must have fallen asleep. The knocking continued 
until she stood up and went to the door. Her hand hesitated for a minute, then 
she opened it. A woman pushed a half-full shopping bag into Diane's arms and 
turned and quickly walked away.

 "Wait a minute!" Diane yelled, but the woman didn't stop. She went back 
into the room and sat down on the bed. Reaching Inside the bag, she pulled out a 
stack of photographs. They were pictures of her in a variety of sexual positions. 
Some were naked, some were with men, some were pictures of herself in the 
basement during the audio tape sessions. There were dozens of them, all 
Polaroids. The bag also contained eight unlabelled audio tapes and several 
floppy disks. There was a note. She unfolded it and read:

 "There's no way to be absolutely certain this is everything, but we we're 
pretty damn sure. You'll feel better if you destroy it yourself. Be online at six 
sharp tomorrow morning." Diane stuffed the photos and tapes back into the bag, 
then put on her clothes. She folded the top of the bag over and carried it out to 
the car.

+ + +

 Diane knelt in front of the fireplace. It was one of her favorite parts of the 
house and today it was especially attractive to her. She started a fire with a fire 
log, then fed the polaroids into it one by one, watching each of them go up in 
flames, making sure each was reduced to ashes. When all of the pictures were 
gone, she went upstairs to the study. One by one, she reformatted each of the 
floppy disks, then snapped them in half and threw them in the trash can. Finally, 
she spent half an hour pulling the tapes out of their casettes and cutting them 
into small pieces. This might not be everything, their elimination might not be 
permanent, but it felt wonderful.

+ + +

 "Ding!"

 - Her2U: Hi. Sleepy?
 - SubDiane: What's going on?
 - Her2U: It's a bit early, but it's the safest time. Did you feel good 
destroying the gifts we sent?
 - SubDiane: I don't understand what's going on?
 - Her2U: You don't need to. Here's what you need to do: First, change your 
online IDs, do NOT use SubDiane again and do not use DLawso again either. 
Second, ignore anything that might look like communication from SumwonElz. 
Third, if you meet anyone in town you recognize from those encounters, tell 
them you are not the girl they think you are.

 Diane sat in front of the screen, puzzled and wondering. She wanted to feel 
thrilled, but couldn't ignore the possibility that Her2U was somehow connected 
to SumwonElz and this was a trap.

 - SubDiane: How do I know this is for real?
 - Her2U: You have to trust me.
 - SubDiane: Who are you? Why are you doing this?
 - Her2U: Those aren't the important questions. This is the important 
question: Do you know how he found you?
 - SubDiane: I don't know how he found me, no.
 - Her2U: I know how he found you. And I have to warn you so it does not 
happen again.
 - SubDiane: Yes
 - Her2U: You connected SubDiane to DLawso once in a chat
 - SubDiane: I never did.
 - Her2U: You did. I have the log. I can mail it to you. From there, it was 
only a small bit of research until he found you.
 - SubDiane: You say "he", I understood it was "they"
 - Her2U: Not important. Just do what I said and never, never make that 
mistake again. One last thing. I may call on you for a favor sometime. Or it may 
never happen. If it does, be prepared for it. I will give you a special word so you 
will know it is me.
 - SubDiane: Yes?
 - Her2U: Remember: "plum"
 - SubDiane: But that was the color they used when they told me how to 
dress! "Member is no longer logged on"

+ + +

 Diane grunted as she lifted the weight above her head. She was lifting 
nearly 40 pounds more than she'd been able to when she started weight training. 
She felt the sweat trickle down her forehead as she raised it and finished her 
tenth repetition. She slowly lowered the weight to the floor, then stood up and 
stretched her arms again over her head. She smiled. Changing gyms had not 
only been necessary but a good idea. The program was much better here. In the 
three months since her last contact with Her2U, she'd switched gyms and finally 
found the strength to confront James. It made no sense that in her worst hour, in 
her most difficult time, he posed the biggest threat to her. She confronted him 
several times about changes she felt needed to be made. With each conversation, 
she saw more clearly that he had no interest in the relationship other than the 
external fact of being married.

 Two weeks ago, she'd moved out. Her daughter was old enough that she 
talked to her about it and felt they'd come to a good understanding. She reached 
down for the weight bar again and undid the collar. She slipped another five 
pounds onto each end. It was time for another challenge.

+ + + end of story + + +

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