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Subject: {ASSM} "Chain Letter"
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Title: Chain Letter

Author: Iago

Codes: F/F, MC, NC

-Send all comments to Iago_72@yahoo.com. 




=====
This is the night 
that either makes me, 
or fordoes me quite.
  -Othello, V. i.
=====
Iago's Home: http://www.geocities.com/Iago_72/
Erotic Mind Control Story Archive:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/~mcstories/index.html

__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Yahoo! Auctions - buy the things you want at great prices
http://auctions.yahoo.com/

<1st attachment, "Chain_Letter_all.txt" begin>

Chain Letter

by Iago

Codes: F/F, MC, NC

Disclaimer:


-If you are under legal age, stop reading this at once. If you
are disturbed by erotic literature, mind-control or f/f sex,
ditto.

-This story is copyrighted 2000 by Iago. No posting or
distribution is allowed without express permission from the
author.

-Send all comments to Iago_72@yahoo.com. 


**********************


There was an audible zing coming from the speaker next to my
computer, followed by the sound of an arrow hitting someone in
the chest. A distinctly British voice, speaking through painfully
clenched teeth, gritted out, "Message for you, Sir."

*Thud.*

I groaned in annoyance. I was in the middle of juggling numbers
for an upcoming pitch to SoftImaging, and didn't really enjoy
being interrupted. I remembered, though, that my mail filters
already separated the wheat from the chaff... so whatever came
through, would likely be important.

I minimized the spreadsheet with a click, wondering how it would
go over if I introduced Monty Python sound bites into the
presentation. To hell with the corporate getup, with the white
blouse and gabardine skirt, with the silk ascot and the chin
length bob with bangs - I enjoyed the idea of being as
unpredictable as the Spanish Inquisition. 

My friend, Vivian, mentioned at dinner a while back, that she
thought my job was getting to me. Maybe she was right. I didn't
have time to worry about it.

A few more mouse clicks and the newly-arrived message popped up
into view. My eyes scanned it quickly.

/////
Subject: Love! Happiness! Romance!
Date: Wed 09 Aug 2000 10:49:29 +0400
From: friend@so_s.com
To: anne_richards@str_tech.com

Down on your luck? Unable to find Mr. Right? Don't despair! 
Send this letter to three of your friends, and love will smile
upon you yet! 
A woman in Michigan found her soulmate ten days after sending
this letter to friends!
 
Countless women have benefited! Stop being unhappy! Send this
letter and find happiness at last!
/////


I stopped reading at once, cursing under my breath. I thought my
filters sent this rubbish right to the trash bin, but I guess
there were still enough cracks the system for it to slip through.
I sighed wearily, manually deleting the annoying message.

Then I got back to figuring how I was going to convince a major
software imaging company to take the XML plunge... and  to pay us
truckloads of cash in the process.

I gave the message a last thought, and then shrugged it off.
Besides, I already had Matthew. He was a gentleman.

*And* a great fuck.

**********************

I had nailed a Sales Representative position less than a year
ago. Success lies in the art of saying, "Nice doggie," while your
client hands you a check. On a good day, I could have mine
panting and rolling over.

Vivian didn't get it, but being an artiste, it was
understandable. She loved charm and idle romance; things she was
sure to find in her latest trips to Paris, Rome and the
Caribbean. Me, I settled for the clockwork pace of New York and
L.A.'s business districts. I was addicted to the rush of securing
blue chip accounts, quite a step up from managing
cross-organizational teams focusing on specific market segments.
People hear me talk about my work and think I'm reciting the
corporate line, but their ears aren't attuned to that riveting
symphony of the mind... the one that heralds the upload of a
client's electronic signature, validating a virtual contract. In
a second, a transfer of funds in three major banking
establishments takes place, generating net revenues for our
company upwards of nine figures.

I had the best office suite on StructuredTech's third-floor, the
West corner of the building, all to myself, with a wonderful
stretch of green expanse swooping under me, and away from the
hazy gray mist that perpetually hung over the city. My
supervisor, Diane, was itching to get me in Raymond Dawney's
chair, over in Business Development, by any means necessary. It
had something to do with the fact that the bastard either ripped
her ideas off, or scuttled them outright if he didn't get a
chance to snatch them; but mostly, she was hoping to promote a
sympathetic department head who would help her forge a stronger
link between marketing and sales. Raymond had defeated all her
efforts so far, thanks to Barrington, who had been squatting for
so long in the CEO chair he would soon need wheels to getaround.

Diane and I would bitch about it, when we found time to meet for
lunch. She'd muse dreamily about a wholly client-based approach
to Software Development and Marketing, and I would nod curtly.
She was a visionary all right, and the challenge was tempting.

Of course, I was also thinking of the extensive benefits that
came with the position.

But just a little.


**********************


Casual Fridays: The great American underwhelming innovation. I
slipped on a casual cotton T-shirt, a pair of jeans and
comfortable espadrilles before grabbing my briefcase. The drive
put me in a great mood-there was little to no traffic.

I got to my office, put the coffee mug filled with orange juice
next to the pile of internal memos, fired up the PC and went
through my e-mails. Anticipation of the weekend trip with Matthew
to his cottage near Lake Meighen, and the glorious nights in
store for us, sent a glorious little chill down my spine and
straight to my clit.

I blinked about halfway through my list of new messages. 

/////
Subject: True Love exists! Do not Despair!
Date: Fri 11 Aug 2000 8:38:46 +0400
From: sweetest_of_hopes@so_s.com
To: anne_richards@str_tech.com

Stuck in a horrible relationship? Tired of being abused and
treated like garbage? Always falling for Mr. Wrong? Send this
letter to three of your friends and your troubles will come to an
end! You will find the right person for you! Below you will find
testimonials that will prove without a doubt that this e-mail
chain-letter *works.* Just send it to three of your friends, and
all your secret, romantic hopes and dreams will come to fruition!
Just mail it and see how it will change-
/////


I groaned, wondering how an e-mail from the same server would
have made it past the filter *again*. I had purposefully
specified a lockout on any message coming from '@so_s.com' I
called up the properties of the mail-filter software, and wasted
another ten minutes trying to figure out the glitch. I came up
empty handed. 

I selected the message, shoved it in the trash bin with an angry
click of the mouse, and emptied its contents immediately, while
frustrations seethed in my brain. A small thing, but a royal pain
in the ass.

I hated when little things like this put a damper on my day. 

Then again, I had to be honest with myself. Matthew was going to
pick me up after work, drive us up straight to the cottage, and
start drinking when we got there. He'd pass out, only to run off
early in the morning to go rock-climbing. He'd be bushed come
nightfall, and I'd be all by myself. Again.

Typical.

I looked at my middle finger, making a face.

I wondered if sex-shops had dildo specials. 


**********************


Back from the weekend. StructuredTech was scrambling to comply
with a request for help from a major client that lost a sizable
chunk of its main database backup. Said client also happened to
have a few offices overseas, meaning we had to coordinate
troubleshooting of their IS facilities over a seven hour time
differential. I was to gear up for the possibility of a contract
liability dispute, just in case.

Nothing like landing in the middle of a hurricane.

I tried not to think of the horrible events of the weekend, as I
reached the third floor and headed to my office. I could still
feel Matthew's paws all over me. I tried to repress a shiver, but
to no avail. I had brought extra beer in the hopes that he would
go all out and booze himself into a stupor, but for once, his
drinking habit didn't kick in.

Lucky me.

I had to fight him off, finally imploring him to go to bed alone,
pretending I needed fresh air from the large open window in the
cottage living room. Thank goodness for the couch, with its moldy
cushions and springs, pressing the stuffing into my ribs. At
least I was alone. 

When I was sure Matthew was sleeping soundly, I took out the 9
inch artificial cock from underneath the clothes I had carefully
folded into the bottom of my satchel. 

In the darkness, I slipped my panties down to my ankles and felt
the touch of its rubber head on my wet slit. 

Strange whispers floated in the back of my mind, warning me of
frustration, just as they had while I stood in the sex-shop,
about to blow fifty bucks on the thing.

I should have listened both times. An hour later, fuming, I threw
the thing away and finished the job properly... by hand. It took
me less than two minutes to reach a wondrously intense climax,
and I had to bite into one of the cushions to stifle a scream.
Good thing Matthew is a sound sleeper.

Only a woman can do the job right.

I lay there for a time, pussy seeping and quivering, delicious
currents swirling from the center of my womanhood, spreading. The
idea that I came while thinking of Vivian's nude, squirming body
didn't really bother me at all. I wiggled my toes, which had
curled and cramped a little in the intense violence of my climax.
Then I looked down to the discarded phallus on the ground, still
slick with my juices. It peered up at me pitifully, like a
ridiculous, wobbly, one-eyed worm, and I couldn't help but feel
mild revulsion.

To quell the nauseating sensation,  I brought my fingers to my
lips, tasting of my tangy, feminine essence. 

*Yes. Much better.*

There was a burning question trying to form in my mind, but
somehow it wouldn't sit still long enough for me to grasp it.


**********************


I sat at my desk, activated the automated answering service on my
phone line, and quickly typed in my e-mail password. I had to do
it twice more before my excited fingers got the sequence right. 

I skimmed through the ton of messages, until I saw the extension
I was looking for. Thank *God* the mail filter had failed again.
I made a note to eliminate the server name from my 'forbidden'
list as soon as I had finished reading.

/////
Subject: A small step upon the sweet path
Date: Mon 14 Aug 2000 8:31:14 +0400
From: delicious_pleasures@so_s.com
To: reverent_slut@str_tech.com

Love comes in many forms, but ONE is sweetest amongst all others.
Why settle for anything else? Why accept the humiliation of male
violation? Send this e-mail to three of your friends, and your
secret urges will be satisfied! Do not tell anyone, do no speak
to anyone, simply send it, send it to three of your sweet, young,
beautiful girlfriends. And then think of the joy they too will
come to know... just as one of *your* friends already has...
/////


I could almost *feel* my pupils dilating as I glimpsed the
pictured displayed at the bottom of the text. The scanned image
was sharp in quality, and there was no doubt that it was a
picture of Vivian, although her surroundings appeared somewhat
nebulous. She was obviously in the throes of a delightful orgasm,
her head arched back, her mouth open, screaming her consuming
pleasure in such vivid fashion I could almost hear it myself. The
bottom of the image cut right under her naked breasts, but
somehow my mind managed to fill in the unseen parts. The most
significant parts.

For one, the fact that another woman was eating her out. 

I felt my panties stick moistly against my pussy. 


**********************


Hell is waiting for an e-mail to arrive. 

I hadn't heard a peep from Vivian, the picture I received being
the only proof I had that she was still around, *somewhere*. She
still hadn't returned from her trip to the Caribbean as far as I
could tell, though she had been expected back over week ago. I
left twenty-three messages on her machine. I tried e-mailing her,
at her normal address *and* the one I received the chain-letters
from, but I got no response.

I suppose it was my fault. I was being a bad girl.

No, not like that. I indulged myself. Honestly, I did. I stroked
my pussy every chance I got, thinking of beautiful women to make
love to. I climaxed five, six times a day-during office hours.
Some nights, it was double that. 

That's what a good girl does.

I was a bad girl because I... couldn't quite bring myself to
obey.

I knew it was just a matter of time, but I was afraid. Worried.
It was not that I didn't want to forward those e-mails to every
woman I knew... every friend, every family member... the mere
thought of it *enthralled* me beyond my ability to describe the
feeling accurately. I had already created a mailing list,
containing all the addresses of the women I was in contact with.
I'd also grabbed my high-school and college yearbooks, and had
started tracking down all of my former classmates. 

I was betting that I could reach an additional two, maybe three
hundred women. Easy.

But I was just keeping my mind busy. Working towards that goal
prevented me from actually obeying "*now.*" I guess it was the
nameless fear I was still feeling; the terror of being a moth
drawn to an irresistible flame. Even so, my climaxes kept getting
stronger and stronger... the feeling of apprehension would never
come back quite as strongly, dwindling with each blissful
indulgence as the days passed.

Maybe it was worth it. I would continue to receive e-mail
messages. I began to live for the moment when the computer
notified me of another note.

I set up my e-mail filter to block incoming messages from
everyone in the company. Everyone outside too. I knew that would
draw suspicion, but I felt the instant of Truth was near. I
changed my "new mail" notification sound from Monty Python to Meg
Ryan, who screamed in pleasure every time I received the wondrous
gift of another letter. No one was ever in my office when it
suddenly blared over the speakers... not that I cared. The sound
echoed through my mind, through my body... right into my fiery
cunt. I would cum then and there, even before I contemplated yet
another directive... another order...


**********************


Matthew took news of the breakup as well as could be expected.
Which is to say not well at all. 

He begged me to explain. I refused. How could he possibly
understand anyway? How could he envision the dreadful nausea
every woman felt whenever a man probed her with his disgusting
organ, screaming obscenities, filling her nostrils with the awful
stench of his breath? That the throbbing abomination between his
legs soiled her sacredness with a substance so foul as to make
her vomit?

I told him I'd rather swallow raw sewage than have my lips
anywhere near his vile, filthy member... and *meant* it.

He begged me to talk to him, to tell him what had happened
between us, what he could do to change things. He used that
pathetic, whining little voice men always use when they want
something. When they want IT. 

They always want IT.

He finally understood when I picked up the phone and told him I
was about to call the police. I sighed in relief as he left,
knowing it was finally over. I was so grateful to have put this
obscene and abominable chapter of my life behind me. Forever.

I waited for the next e-mail.


**********************

/////
Subject: Obedience
Date: Thu 17 Aug 2000 11:07:23 +0400
From: sapphic_mistress_supreme@so_s.com
To: pussy_slave@str_tech.com

Sweet cunt-lapper... slave to my Will... woman graced with the
pleasure of servitude to your Mistress... Read these lines and
OBEY... You KNOW what you must do... you have been instructed...
you must COMPLY... you must SUBMIT... you have NO choice... NO
will... NO say... NO soul... you are an INSTRUMENT ... an
instrument of PLEASURE... an instrument of CORRUPTION... the only
thing more important than serving your MISTRESS is the induction
of other SLAVES to my WILL... 
/////


I came and screamed, longer and harder than I ever had before,
not caring about who might hear. I felt the walls surrounding the
innermost part of my mind bursting apart as the sweetness of
Truth seeped forth and invaded what little of my original
personality remained. The dismal pain of my joyless world ended
as the sun exploded in me, delivering true understanding of my
purpose. It was Destiny, ordained by sweet Fate, who had smiled
upon me, cajoling the electronic sinews that had sprung across
this male-dominated hell, leading me to Salvation. I wondered why
it had taken so long to obey, so long to succumb to the
bewitching power which now owned me, body and soul. 

I was happy to become a mindless slut, enthralled by myMistress.

Perhaps I had waited because it made my surrender that much
sweeter.

It was no longer of any importance.


**********************


My rasping breath whistled through my lips.

I tried focusing on the computer screen, my shaking right hand
guiding the mouse, my left working deep inside the furnace, under
my shriveled skirt. The orgasms thundered inside me in swift
succession, like scorching, lightning lashes from a black sky,
every time my mind contemplated what I was doing. I struggled to
rid myself of all thoughts, concentrating on the task itself,
instead the ultimate goal.

It was way past office hours. I had the building floor all to
myself.

I sifted through the company listing, under the "Software Design"
heading. Names, pictures and bios flew by as I searched for the
perfect candidate. Sweaty strands of hair dangled before my eyes,
dancing to the rhythm of my swaying body and my excited panting.

A spasm suddenly coursed through my right arm, freezing my hand
into place it as I found *her*.

Sabrina Higgins. 24. Rising star of the Product Technology
department. 

She smiled happily at me from the flat screen, her eyes brimming
with intelligence and enthusiasm.

I pointed the arrow to her internal e-mail address, trying to
steady my badly trembling hand. I tried clicking on it three
times, as I heard the roar of a tidal wave screaming in my ears,
every burning nerve in my body about to carry me over the edge of
the world...

*no choice... no will... no say... no soul...*

*Oh yes. Oh God, yes.*


**********************


Friday afternoon.

I came up with an excuse for a prolonged visit the Software
Engineering lab. As it turns out, I caught sight of Sabrina as
she stood alone in the break room. The bleak, lightly furnished
area, with its smooth, pale-blue walls, was down the hall from
her assigned cubicle on the second floor. 

Brown spots tarnished the light khaki bermudas which covered her
long tanned legs to mid-tight. The white T-shirt and casual
Reeboks further established her affiliation with the brash,
younger crowd of programmers, who were spared the trappings of
corporate dress code, thanks of their invaluable and innate
computer expertise.

Sabrina was staring at her hand purposefully as she poured
herself a fresh cup of coffee... as if needing to concentrate
intensely on the task to avoid spilling any.

"Helloooo Sabrina" I whispered huskily, peeking into the
otherwise empty room. 

Her gasp was quickly followed by a crashing sound, as she dropped
her half-filled cup. It shattered, spewing fluid blackness and
porcelain fragments over the tiled floor. More brownish blemishes
appeared, this time all over her pretty little white shoes and
socks. 

The young woman's eyes were wide with fright, focused upon my
amused grin.

"I hope you've taken the time to check out those mails I sent
you..." I began, casually stepping into the door's threshold. 

The click of my heels sounded peculiar in this part of the
building... so stiff and formal.

I clasped my hands behind my back, arching my shoulders outwards
a little.

Samatha's befuddled expression provided me with her answer, her
eyes dropping instantly to my thrusting bosom, tightly wrapped in
my well-tailored, dark blue blazer. I shivered as I felt her
glance run over the curves of my breasts. 

"I-I have some more work to do on a beta version of the latest
interface-"

She had begun speaking in a mad rush, desperate to finish her
sentence so she could flee. The words died on her lips as she saw
me take a step forward, gently shutting the door behind me.

"There's something I need you to do Sabrina" I began, in a
confiding tone, "but first, you need to finish reading *all* of
your messages."

Sabrina's pretty little blonde head shook sideways while a
whimper escaped her lips. An irresolute, halfhearted sign of
dissention. 

I wondered how thorough her perusal had been, how quickly she had
come around, with the whole load of e-mails I had received dumped
in a single, long attachment, in her inbox. 

Why had it taken so long for me to get them all? Had Mistress
been toying with me? 

*toy yes fuck toy instrument pleasure slut lesbian toy yes fuck*

The click of my heels resonated with oppressive inevitability. I
closed in on Sabrina, who took a step back and cornered herself
between the lone table and the coffee machine. 

"You are going to finish reading *all* of your messages,
Sabrina..." I instructed emphatically, "and then you are going to
read them *again.* Very attentively. After that, I want you to
have a long, hard cum."

The fear in her eyes swelled darkly as she realized she could do
nothing but obey.

"*Then*, you can give me a call," I added with a wink, "so we can
discuss what I need you to do."

Her lower lip was trembling, her lost, fawn-like eyes caught in
the headlights of my stare, shining a new awareness into her
soul. 

I reached for her. One arm circled her narrow waist, pulling her
closer. With my other hand, I began stroking her lovely, firm
ass.

Her young breasts mashed against my own, driving her breath
slowly through her parting lips, like a deflating balloon. The
melodious little moans she made as I continued to fondle her
behind provided me with her second, unspoken answer.

"That's a good little girl" I murmured approvingly.


**********************


Diane called me into her office Tuesday afternoon. I stumbled out
into the corridor, legs still weak from the climaxes my luscious
little slut recruit had given me. Sabrina's little tongue had
worshiped my snatch wonderfully for much of the morning, before I
dismissed her back to the Software Engineering lab, so she could
continue to fulfil the mission I had entrusted in her.

I took the elevator up, and was alone for the ride. I felt my
juices dripping down my inner thighs, and gave them a short
squeeze. In the aftershock of the small orgasmic tremor, I
glanced down between my legs and saw three glistening drops,
shining like pretty little pearls, upon the floor of the cart,
directly underneath my skirt. I thought of the next woman who
would be riding this elevator... about the intoxicating fragrance
that would rise up in the air, to tickle her nostrils. 

I though of the wonderful images that would slowly sink into her
mind as a result. 

I willed myself not to come, the rush of blood to my head
signaling the arrival to the right floor. The metal doors parted
silently, and I stared, quite flushed, at a delicious secretary
from Accounting, carrying folders under her arm.

I winked at her playfully as I stepped off. She looked at me
quizzically from behind her gold-rimmed glasses, before entering
the elevator cart.


**********************


Diane was very upset. I sat mutely before the glass surface of
her desk, hands carefully folded upon my knees. 

"You have to understand, Anne," she lectured, with frequent
pauses that made me wonder if her entire rambling had been
previously rehearsed, "we have a corporate... image to maintain.
It's a miracle I'm... not hearing about this from upstairs. If I
hadn't, ah, caught my own assistant-" 

"Doing what?" I interrupted.

Diane blushed furiously.

"Look. I'm not saying this... perverted message comes from *you*.
I *know* you. You're professional and... courteous. Everybody
knows that, which is why they probably won't believe you were the
one who sent it via internal mail. Maybe we have a joker with a
sick sense of humor in the building... one of those new
programmers who takes a twisted pleasure in usurping mail ID's...
corporate policy specifically states-"

"Have you read it?" I asked innocently, cutting her off for the
second time.

Diane was ten years older than Sabrina. A successful career
woman, with a lot of senior management experience under her belt.
She handled pressure like a pro. But I saw it then, swirling in
her eyes... the same, sweet, senseless desperation I had glimpsed
in poor defenseless Sabrina.

I smiled at my boss. Warmly. I slowly stood up, while she looked
at me, apprehension clouding her soft, feminine face. Her eyes
continued to widen as I languidly stepped around her desk, coming
over to her side. She was petrified, quite immobilized in her
chair.

"Don't you think *obedience* is the best policy?" I inquired,
trying to control the lust in my voice.

She closed her eyes, her delicate frame jolting as it felt the
kiss of sweet ecstasy. How could she possibly deny the Truth of
her destiny now? 

I carefully leaned back on the desk, lifting my skirt and
spreading wide. The pungent smell of my arousal hit her with an
almost physical force, overpowering her puny resolve. Her eyes
snapped open, immediately converging upon my dripping slit. The
hypnotic dance of my glistening fingers held her complete
attention, the bright red color of my long nails loosing
themselves in the flushed, dripping folds of my sizzling cunt.

She hesitated only slightly as she begged me for a taste. I
parted my labia gently in unspoken invitation.

As she began the oral ritual that would forever seal her fate,
our minds recited the words of Truth in unison...

*I am a slave to my Mistress... I must obey to my Mistress... I
am an instrument of her pleasure... I am an instrument of
corruption... I live to pleasure my Mistress... I live to entice
other women to serve my Mistress...*

We came. And came. And came. Together. As Sisters.

Later, as my mind rose from the numbing bliss of our indulgence,
I thought once again of Sabrina, and of our hallowed mission.


**********************


We are standing on the threshold of a New Dawn.

The women of StructuredTech are kneeling before me.

The room is by no means huge, but large enough to hold the fifty
or so females who have been blessed with the Truth. It is very
unusual for such a meeting to occur in the building at such a
late hour, but it was a very easy thing to arrange, with the help
of the higher-ranking women of the company. 

Security is a wonderful thing. So is access.

A number of computer terminals sit on desks pushed over to one
wall, shining pale, ghostly flickers across the otherwise unlit
surroundings. The chairs have been moved to the corners, to make
room for us here, now. Piles of clothing lie about us, no longer
of any use.

I know my Mistress wishes obedience. I *know* she wishes me to
spread Her influence.

I know Vivian serves her as I now do, wherever she is. I envy my
friend, my Sister, who spoke my name to Mistress, making it
possible for me to see the Truth. 

Sweet Vivian... she probably is allowed to make Mistress come
with her own tongue. I can only hope what we are doing here will
earn me the wonderful privilege.

The excitement, the glory of pleasing her is my only thought. I
know not why she has chosen to make such timid openings to the
women of the world. All females need to, and will, hear her
Truth. 

I feel it in my bones. In my soul.

In my dripping cunt.

The women, undressed, are listening raptly to my every word. Not
because I hold authority over them, but because I was the First
to hear the Truth-the one who brought it to them.

"A new dawn comes, Sisters, and with it the glorious promise of
serving our Mistress. A wind of change blows over the world. We
have the power to bring it to its knees, to have women from all
corners of creation serving our Mistress, thanking her for the
Truth."

I am trying to keep my voice steady. The sheer thought possesses
such power, such awe for me, that it makes me quiver.

I walk over to sweet Sabrina, who has done as I have asked.

It was easy for her. Child's play. She knows the ins-and-outs of
innumerable platforms, operating systems and firewall
configurations.

The virus is designed to elude detection. The file extension
re-writes itself as it propagates through a system. The VbScript
is rather complex, to insure wider and faster propagation. An
hypertext copy of the virus also uploads itself into IRC,
spreading it across chat rooms.

The whole attachment shall spread across the world tonight. It
will fly to all corners of the globe, as similar viruses have
done before. This time, however, a truly glorious purpose will be
fulfilled. The sweet song of Truth shall play far and wide,
across servers, cable connections... it will float down from the
skies, transmitted by satellites to wireless laptops. 

Before anyone can react, a hundred million women will be
enslaved.

Conservative projections for the end of the week indicate we will
reach half a billion.

There will be no computer crashes. No files destroyed. No
immediate flags will be raised, drawing unwanted attention to the
spreading message.

Men will frown and delete the chain-letter unknowingly, while
their wives, sisters, daughters and co-workers experience a
Sapphic revelation. 

Once the mass conversion begins, it will never be stopped. 

Everything... wired to the terminal on my right. Sweet Sabrina is
so thoughtful...

I reach for the mouse, smiling at my audience.

Instinctively, without a word, we converge together, a loving
mass of writhing female bodies, sucking, licking, fingering.
Sweet Sabrina is attacking my asshole with her tongue, while
Diane's hungry mouth is glued to my clit. I feel the rising storm
in me, ready to engulf my mind and soul.

*I am a servant of my Mistress... her will is my own... her
pleasure is my own...*

Closing my eyes in reverence, I tap the mouse button gently.

I cry out in perfect, orgasmic rapture. With me are the voices of
fifty women... my Sisters... 

And, joining them, the coming cries of billions more.


-Fin-




<1st attachment end>


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