Diary Date: Thursday January 3rd, 2002 (Main Entry)

(c)2005 kinkabella@gmail.com
http://slave802120.blogspot.com

I overslept really late this morning, woke in a state of panic, and frantically scrambled to get myself down to the office. There'd been no time to check any email before I left home and when I arrived at work Sylvia told me Jeff had some urgent business he wanted me to attend. I was already terribly late and flustered and as desperate as I was to get to my computer and check my mail, it simply was not possible. There was no sign of Jeff in the building and this, even though not in itself unusual, I instinctively knew something was wrong. What exactly? I wasn't sure. Something.

Somewhere, amidst the swirling anxiety in my mind, I found time to concentrate on the instructions Jeff had left for me. It was a list; a delivery list. Once my initial fears had subsided I felt a bit annoyed more than anything. Deliveries were usually done by one of the three men I worked with. I hated driving in the city; Jeff knew that. There were only two small boxes of papers to deliver but the addresses were at opposite sides of town. I could see myself sitting in traffic for the day and that's exactly what happened. By the time I got back to the library, sometime around three, I felt like a nervous wreck. Coffee was needed.

When I passed the door to the common room I looked in and saw the familiar sight of Steve sitting at one of the tables drinking coffee; his head buried in the sports section of a newspaper. He had his back to the door and didn't notice me standing there. Something seemed odd but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was a bit like looking at one of those spot the difference pictures; mentally comparing the room I was looking at with my memory of it. Nothing seemed changed. Photocopier on its stand in the corner where it usually was; row of metal storage cabinets along the wall; light desk with off cuts of stencil film cluttering the top of it and the floor around; books needing rebinding piled high on the book trolleys; binding machinery sitting idle towards the back of the room; and Steve, ever-present and hunched over his paper, at the only clear space of table top in the room. What was different?

It occurred to me that none of the other office staff were around, except for Sylvia who I passed on my way back into the building. A peculiar feeling began stirring in the pit of my stomach as I went into the lunchroom to make my coffee. Nothing looked unusual; the same pile of used cups sitting unwashed in the sink under the laminated sign that read please wash your own cup; plates covered in bread crumbs and withered lettuce droppings scattered untidily on the bench; electric kettle empty and needing filling as usual. Nothing unusual.

I took my coffee back to my office and settled comfortably into my chair. From where I was sitting I could see out the door and into the reading area of the library. Again, nothing seemed different. Deserted maybe, but then the library usually was after lunch. The blank computer screen on my desk stared ominously back at me. I sipped my coffee and gathered my thoughts. The drawer.

The computer screen pinged to life and the familiar desktop appeared in the glow. I stared at it and laughed to myself at the icons seemingly swimming in the crystal clear lagoon of some far off tropical paradise; the Explorer "e" appearing to hang like a blue coconut in from the single palm tree that sprang from the whitest sand imaginable. It wasn't Venice Beach by any stretch of the imagination. I looked down at the bottom drawer of my desk; a potential hell below the paradise on my desk.

I cautiously reached down and gently slid open the drawer. Slowly I opened it; the way a person expecting something to jump out and bite them might open it. I glanced inside. Everything appeared to be the way I'd left it yesterday and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I relaxed for a moment and allowed myself to see the contents of the drawer as being the objects of pleasure I knew them to be. The state of panic I'd been in since the previous night was suddenly calm. I'd arrived at work with a debilitating headache; it vanished without trace. It was like I'd received a reprieve by my blackmailers.

The feeling of grace was short lived. I heard Jeff's voice outside in the foyer; some words exchanged with Sylvia and then the cheery sound of her voice bidding him farewell for the day. He was sending her home early. Alarm bells rang in my head. I sat motionless; waiting; listening. Nothing. There was a sound of keys rattling in the locks of the main doors to the library and then, nothing. A moment passed.

"You're still here, Ingrid?" 

I felt paralyzed and overwhelmed with a profound feeling of dread as I looked at Jeff standing in the doorway of my office.

"I wasn't expecting you back after your errands."

I searched his face for clues. None. I was trembling uncontrollably but I managed to hide it with a faint smile and some half-hearted joking comment. He walked away from my office leaving me alone to contemplate the brief exchange. My hearing focused on the sounds outside my office. I couldn't hear his footsteps on the carpet but I did hear him open the door to his office. The door clicked quietly closed and again, the sound of nothing. Had it started? I didn't know.

My anxious reverie was shattered by the sound of the phone on my desk; the muted electronic shrill tone cutting the silence and startling me. It was Jeff summoning me to his office. I felt instantly numb and almost dropped the phone. Was this it?

I couldn't stop myself from shaking as I stood in the doorway of Jeff's office.

"Come in," he said.

I consciously willed my feet to move and stepped closer to his desk.

"Ingrid, is there anything you've been keeping from me?" 

His words sounded deliberate and carefully chosen. A kind of mental paralysis set in. I had no idea how to respond. "Like what?" I stammered. 

"I don't know; you tell me." 

I still was not certain we were thinking about the same thing and, even if we were, had my fantasy got so out of control I'd made a grave error in the judgment of my boss? I needed more prompting but I could see it wasn't going to be forthcoming. "No, nothing," I lied.

"What? Nothing at all?"

Again I was forced to struggle for words. I had an urge to confess everything but I now wanted to do it more informally so I could explain everything. It was only a game; a silly fantasy game that got out of control. If Jeff was angry with me, I wanted to be able to apologize before surrendering all the details. I was also acutely aware that anything I confessed to him might also lead to trouble for my online friends who I'd encouraged to set me up in this way. I wanted to tell Jeff everything my fault. Nobody else was to blame; just me. All of these thoughts were racing wildly through my head while I stood mutely unable to offer any explanation.

"Tell me about your friend Mike."

I felt my face suddenly start to blush. The knot of nervousness in the pit of my stomach tightened; my heart pounded furiously in my chest. "Mike? What about Mike?" 

"He sent me this."

I knew the moment of truth had come. Jeff invited me to view the email on his computer screen. This is what I saw:

-----Original Message-----

From: "Mike Jones"

Date: Thu, 3 Jan 2002 07:24:23 

To: "Jeff" <jeff1950@xxx.xxx>

Subject: Fw: Blackmail

Jeff,

So you can see for yourself the situation as I have been handed it by Ingrid out of the blue, unsolicited, on December 30th, last. I am basically (by hobby) a writer of BDSM stories. I have written some for Ingrid to post on a website she owned but which has been defunct since late September. Since then I have practically nothing from Ingrid until Dec. 30th when she sent me this following email. One caution I will give you is that she tells me this latest escapade she is keeping a secret from her husband. Through intense interrogation you should grill her on that singular point to decide for yourself if it is really safe for you to pursue this, or is she just playing some dangerous game that could blow up in everyone's face when her husband finds out what his wife has been up to lately.

Whether you decide to make her your sex-slave, the office whore, (another of her fantasies) or merely smile at her, tip your figurative hat and turn away from the whole thing is strictly your decision. This scenario seems so unreasonable to me with my steady, 51 years of marriage to the same much loved woman. But I do have a devious mind, as many "normal" folks do, for fantasizing the perverse, and Ingrid knows it. I think that's why she came to me for help with this.

I hope you or she, or someone will now keep me informed as to what takes place in your place of business concerning Ingrid. She has formed a new Internet group called the Blackmail Society and made me Owner. Thus far there are three members of this select group but Ingrid envisions the group growing to include yourself, if you are willing and carefully selected others, who have not yet been selected.

I will stop with this much said and respond to more questions of me, if you have any. Also, she, (and I), hope you will take an active role with her and interrogate her for most of what you might want to know about this.

Good luck, but you probably don't need it. She is falling all over herself with lust to have you approach her about this. 

Mike

> ----- Original Message -----

>From: "barefoot embarrassment" <barefoot_embarrassment@yahoo.com> 

>To: "Mike Jones"

>Sent: Sunday, December 30, 2001 2:05 PM

> Subject: Blackmail

>> 

>> Hello Mike,

>>

>> A while back you suggested a game with somebody else

>> on my list and the thought of it has tantalized me

>> ever since. You told them to send you a list of email

>> addresses - real people you could use to threaten

>> blackmail.

>>

>> I immediately thought of my boss at work (Jeff) and

>> how deeply embarrassed I'd be if ever he found out

>> about "my secrets". Since then I've frequently found

>> myself fantasizing about might happen if I gave you

>> his email address and I've often considered sending it

>> to you. Naturally there was always a very real concern

>> at the back of my mind about the possible consequences

>> of Jeff *really* knowing things you know about me.

>> However, after much careful thought I've finally

>> decided to give in to a compelling urge to play this

>> game in reality.

>>

>> It's a calculated risk. I've suspected he's had more

>> than a professional interest in me ever since I

>> started working for him. I've also suspected there was

>> more to the authority he often playfully wielded over

>> me - an undisguised dominant streak in him I've

>> learned to recognize since my husband introduced me

>> into the BDSM scene. All of this was confirmed at a

>> recent staff Christmas party.

>>

>> It was late in the night and everybody (including me)

>> had drunk a little too much Christmas cheer. I did

>> something silly and somebody (not Jeff) announced to

>> everybody that I should be spanked for it. He wasn't

>> serious about it and everybody laughed, except Jeff. I

>> caught his eye and there was an unmistakable glint to

>> accompany his grin. It was the tiniest flash of

>> something that instantly made me blush. Nothing else

>> happened but it was enough to convince me Jeff might

>> be interested in hearing from you. Call it a woman's

>> intuition if you like. 

>>

>> I don't expect you'll want to contact him immediately

>> and in my fantasies you always take the time to

>> torment me with the suspense of not knowing whether or

>> not you have said anything to him. But I'll give you a

>> little information in advance so when the time comes

>> to introduce yourselves you'll have some idea of who

>> you're talking to. 

>>

>> He's about fifteen years older than me and not

>> particularly the kind of man I find myself physically

>> attracted to but he is charming in his own way. He's

>> not married and I'm not sure, but I don't think he

>> ever has been. I've always thought of him as being the

>> perfect bachelor in a distinguished "English" kind of

>> way. He reminds me of (the actor) Michael Caine. He

>> lives alone and his one main love seems to be books,

>> particularly antiquarian ones - a subject he's an

>> expert in.

>>

>> I'm feeling VERY nervous right now, about to share his

>> email address with you. You probably have other photos

>> of me also but I've attached a montage of 4 pictures

>> which I consider to be both the most embarrassing and

>> ones guaranteed to identify me and my secret desires.

>>

>> jeff1950@xxx.xxx

>>

>> You now have everything you need to *really* blackmail

>> me...

>>

>> Your nervous slave, 

>>

>> Ingrid

******** 

The picture was attached and Jeff made me look at it. I was told not to take my eyes off it...

"You set yourself up to be blackmailed by this Mike Jones?"

Jeff asked the question in a way that made me feel incredibly foolish. For the first time since he summoned me into his office, I began to feel small twinges of pleasure about everything that was happening. I glanced at my boss. There were traces of delight in the expression on Jeff's face which had until now been expressionless. There was no need to answer his question.

"Now, tell me again, is there anything you've been keeping from me?"

I knew there was no escaping the truth now. Jeff knew everything; the whole sordid story. The proof was there on his computer screen; pictures of me completely naked and bound. What had begun as an online fantasy game was now well and truly real and I knew I'd be forced to relinquish whatever control I had over things to my boss, Jeff. He now had total control to use the knowledge and pictures he now had of me to blackmail me properly; to force me to surrender to whatever dark desires he had for me. All that now remained was for him to begin revealing what those desires might be. That fateful moment was fast approaching.

"Ingrid, I'm going to ask you a question and I want your honest answer."

I nervously agreed to comply. 

"Before you answer I want you to carefully consider the implications. Realize I have all the evidence I need to indemnify myself, and your friend Mike against any and all repercussions that may arise as a result of your answer. Do you understand?"

I nodded first and then affirmed I understood. "Yes."

"Out of all the things I could possibly force you to do, what is the one demand you never want me to make of you?"

I felt suddenly burdened by the weight of the decision I knew I was about to be forced to make. If given enough time I was sure I could think of a million things; humiliations, torments, tortures, bizarre sexual demands. The list could go on and on. I didn't want to sound like I was being evasive and nor did I want to cheat in a game which I had created myself but I had to protect the one person in the world who I loved deeply; passionately. "Please never make any demand which might alert my husband to this game."

"Could you be a bit more specific?"

I couldn't but I tried to make myself clear. "I will do anything you ask. Anything. As long as my husband is not involved in any way."

"Give me some examples."

"My husband would not ever want to see me shaved. Nor would he want me pierced or tortured in any way that might scar me. If your demands are sexual I must have your word I won't catch any diseases that could be passed to my husband. Things like that." I could see by Jeff's acceptance of these examples that he understood what I was asking.

"Okay. Then, it's about time we got down to business."

The words signaled the real beginning of an adventure I'd dreamed about for years.