Remote Domination (Nobody x Devilla Roche)

Ten years ago...

Matt Walden was not a particularly complicated man. Nor was he a particularly intelligent one. His days at school came to an early end when his future wife became pregnant with their first child, and as his ambitions never went too far beyond getting drunk at the bar with his mates he didn't consider it a significant loss. A brief foray into the working world revealed that he was incapable of following more than the most basic instructions, though if nothing else he followed such orders to the letter. Unfortunately a genetic predisposition towards alcoholism and the natural aggression of a man trying to control something in a life of uncontrollable failure made it difficult for him to keep a job beyond six months. Left to his own devices, the arc of Matt's life that peaked so briefly in high school would soon have taken a sharp, devastating decline.

Luckily for Matt, there were always those in need of individuals clever enough to follow orders yet stupid enough to never question or wonder about those orders. On an otherwise normal spring day, a small package was delivered to Matt's doorstep. The simple brown package had no return address, and might have been thrown away or otherwise ignored were it not for the unsigned letter attached to the outside.

Mr. Matthew Walden,

This is an offer of employment. The package you are holding contains five hundred USD and a list of instructions. If you successfully complete those instructions exactly as they are written, you will be hired. The position pays fifty two thousand USD a year, paid weekly. Every week your pay will be delivered through the mail along with another list of instructions. So long as you carry out your assigned tasks, the money will continue to come.

I look forward to a long working relationship with you.

Matt's mind was nasty enough to immediately suspect the worst. Even the simplest things could be key to a terrorist plot or some other criminal endeavor, and the last thing he wanted was to spend any more time in jail then the occasional visit to the drunk tank. But large stacks of cash tend to remove such cerebral obstacles, and the instructions seemed harmless enough. It was mostly just doing some grocery shopping and dropping the items off at a specified post office, or hand-delivering other messages to people. By the time the next, significantly larger package arrived a week later, Matt was happily employed.


Two days ago...

Life was quite good for Matt these days. The money from his employer, an individual he knew only as 'Boss,' made sure he didn't need to work a boring regular job, and the weekly tasks could usually be knocked out in a few hours. There were occasional orders during the week via email and the money was directly deposited into a bank account, but in the end the result was the same.

This week the package came with a small collection of letters, all sealed in individual, labeled envelopes. The instructions were clear; send on the first of the letters, then send the others when he was told to by email. Easy, and Matt was so well trained he didn't even question what was in the letter as he dropped it in the post office's mailbox.


Today...

The letter was delivered to Randy Simmons, a college student that was barely managing to keep up with his tuition payments. The return address on the letter he received was meaningless to him, but the hundred dollar bill within certainly was not. A note within requested only a small favor in return; take the separate envelope within the letter, take it to a certain apartment building in the city and tape it to a certain mailbox during a certain timeframe. It wasn't the first time he'd done a similar favor, and as long as the cash kept coming he was perfectly willing to do it once again.

At nine AM that day, Randy took the bus into the city and eventually arrived at the Victorian Suites apartment building. It was a rather humble establishment for such a grand name, but it suited the residents just fine and was a far sight better than living in the college dorms. It was child's play to slip inside when another resident left, giving him the chance to obediently tape the envelope, bearing no markings but the name 'Charlotte,' to the mailbox of room 214. With his job done he left, giving no more thought to the matter then he would to taking out the trash.

The letter would remain untouched until the intended recipient arrived back to her apartment, typically in the early afternoon or perhaps not until that evening. When it was eventually opened she would discover a small SD card, and a letter sealed with tape and a written request on the outside. Please watch the video on the card before reading this letter. Eventually the letter would be opened, the handwriting within a neat, precise hand in immaculate cursive.

Miss Charlotte DeWitt,

If you followed my instruction, then you have already seen the video. I am not one to judge what a young lady does in the privacy of her home, but it seems that perhaps you should have delayed that particular performance. Removing one's clothes for an anonymous Internet audience is one thing, and not an activity with anything other than purely social penalties. Doing so while technically underage, even if only a few weeks from your birthday, is another matter entirely.

Certainly you are of more than legal age now, but I'm certain there are still parties who would be quite interested to learn of this particular moment in your past. Your parents, for one, followed closely by the police, the dean of your college, your friends, your extended family, the press, your pastor...I could go on, but I believe the point has been made. Even if you manage to explain the original video as a foolish mistake of youth, the various transcripts, additional videos and screen-caps also upon the card will be more difficult. You have been quite busy in certain online communities, even if you've yet to physically do anything more than occasionally spread your legs before a camera. Frankly I would have expected a young lady of your intelligence to be more careful if you were so concerned about discovery, but the deed is done.

The only question that remains is what you are prepared to do about it now.

This letter should have been delivered on Monday, October 10. On the SD card there is an executable file named Acceptance.exe. Place it on the desktop of your computer and run it. It will provide you with an address for you to send your reply to this letter. If I do not receive a reply postmarked on or before Wednesday, October 12, I will assume that you have no interest in concealing your activities and act accordingly. If I do receive such a letter, we will proceed from there. Your secrets will remain hidden.

Should you doubt that I intend to carry out my implied actions, a censored version of one of your latest shows has already been emailed to your friend, Samantha Cooper. It has been scrubbed of anything she might use to identify the young woman in the video as you. Future emails will not have the same courtesy extended.

I hope you are as clever as you appear to be, Charlotte.

Charlotte DeWitt was an only child to Robert and Virginia DeWitt. At an early age she showed a certain level of intelligence that manifested both in her voracious appetite for reading and in her grasp of playing the violin. She was the perfect child in many ways, quiet and studious, rarely getting into trouble with her parents. She was the perfect student that any teacher would love to have, as evidenced by her report cards that always said, “A pleasure to have in class.”

But, there was other attributes of Charlotte that were of concern to her parents. She tended to be the consummate wallflower. Never angry, nor sad. She kept to herself mostly. She had trouble making friends and tended to be by herself as evidence by her having lunch at school by herself. At one point, Charlotte’s parents thought that she suffered from pre-adolescent depression, but her pediatric doctor was convinced otherwise. He explained to the DeWitt’s that Charlotte’s behavior was common with a family with an only child.

That would account for Charlotte’s invention of a whole world of characters in her mind. She would turn her dolls into characters in that world of hers, talking to them regularly and adopting them as her friends.

As Charlotte got past the age of thirteen and entered high school, it was evident that she would have a figure that was relatively short and petite. She was a brunette and her mother like her to keep her hair very long. It ran halfway down her back, but now that she was in ninth grade Charlotte preferred to keep it up in a loose bun. This had a quality of making her look older, and with her large, dark rimmed glasses she looked as studious and smart as she actually was.

Charlotte honesty was very pretty. With her brown eyes and flawless skin, she grew into that “girl next-door look.” She rarely wore makeup and preferred Chapstick over lipstick. The one area of her body that she did pay attention to was her bosom. Only reaching a ‘B’ cup she equated large breasts with becoming a woman. A common thought for a flatchested teenager, but at times she would dwell on it.

When Charlotte received her first computer, a laptop during the beginning of her junior year, her life changed. She found herself in that same world as when she was a child. Going to roleplaying sites and becoming a part of all sorts of fandom stories from medieval to steampunk to anime. At this point, the amount of reading she did, and her innate intelligence Charlotte took to writing and delving into these wonderful worlds made up by her and the person she roleplayed with.

During the middle of that same year, she met a friend named Samantha Copper. Samantha was smart, but also had one foot in the ‘high school scene.’ Jessica was also the one that opened Charlotte’s wide eyes to many things sexual, including how to pleasure herself and have an orgasm. Samantha was good for a lot of things sexual. She introduced Charlotte to what a dildo is and how to use it. She taught Charlotte the finer points of how to suck a guy’s cock. And, teaching Charlotte to French kiss led to a lesbian relationship that lasted to the end of the school year when Samantha’s parents decided to move across country.

Saddened by the loss of Samanthafrom her life, Charlotte continued to be involved in her own little world on the internet. She became more daring and led herself into a misconception that the internet was anonymous, just because you don’t use your real name or lie about where you live.

The internet and pleasuring herself continued to go hand in hand. Samantha taught her so much about her body, so it wasn’t surprising that the wallflower, who had no friends, and used to talk to her dolls was now taking on dares by both young men and women to do certain things. This led to her being goaded into taking off a shirt at first and holding her arms to her bra, then being dared to flash her small tits, then taking off her bra all together.

“What’s the harm?” she surmised, convincing herself that it was okay to behave this way as if it were totally normal for a young lady of her age. Except that she was underage, meaning under eighteen years old. Things hadn’t ended there, Charlotte eventually dared herself, to the point where she took, ‘it all off’ for any anonymous internet audience.

Charlotte entered the university and made her decision to study library science. She loved being around books all the time. After her first semester she got a part time job working as a librarian at the university library. Her parents, who were well off, afforded Charlotte the opportunity to live off campus at the renowned Victorian Suites. Residing in a comfortable one bedroom, which included a separate living room and kitchen, she found her living arrangement to be more than ideal.

By day, Charlotte remained with her conservative style, a blouse and her long pencil skirts that went to her knees; wearing nude colored stockings, to cover her legs, wearing a blazer, and flats to and from school. It was the expected look for a librarian, almost cliche even. With her hair up all the time and her large-rimmed glasses, she still looked a lot like the girl from high school.

By night, Charlotte DeWitt tempered her sexual curiosities and found that revealing her body on the internet was no longer the way a young adult behaved. She still found herself frequenting pornographic websites that showcased naked men who were well hung and naked women who bared all. Besides ‘getting off’ to men, she found women to be equally attractive - especially women who had enormously huge breasts and had quite the voluptuous curves. Having her orgasms became a guilty pleasure for Charlotte, but she indulged in such a ritual at least a few times a week.

Her proclivity to indulge her sexual desires opened up a whole new world that included every conceivable position, the various ways on pleasuring a man with fellatio, cunnilingus, the act of sodomy, bondage, and BDSM. This included reading countless books on the same subject matter. Was she feeding an addiction or was this normal behavior? Was she losing her perspective in life? Did she have to pull back, yet again and not be tempted to strip again on the internet?

Monday, October 10th...4 o’clock in the afternoon….


On her way home, after classes in history and philosophy, Charlotte went to work at the school library and walked home from campus to her apartment. Once in her building, she checked the mail and noticed a single letter with a bulge in the middle.

When she removed the letter, it had written, in beautiful cursive hand writing, her name, 'Charlotte,' the words ‘Room 214’ on it. No full address, no return address, and certainly no stamp and no cancellation from the USPS. Charlotte knew, at this point, that someone had hand delivered this parcel of mail. But who?

Waiting to get up to her apartment, she nervously ripped open the letter (Charlotte had a tendency to keep her nails neat, yet trimmed so they were not making opening the letter any easier). The SD card dropped out and then she pulled out the letter which was sealed with tape. Excited and scared at the prospect of the letter, she grabbed a scissor this time and her computer.

Charlotte sat down on her oversized sofa that she enjoyed sitting down indian-style and doing her homework in her pajamas. She also enjoyed reading a good book on that comfy couch for hours.

But this time she had her laptop with her, signed on, and placed the SD card in the slot on the side and opened up the video that merely was titled “Charlotte.” When it came on, she watched to her own horror, that time when she stripped down completely, her boobs, her ass, her pussy. Gyrating in front of the camera of her laptop, doing things that anonymous men would have her do. It looked completely wrong.

Shock was in fell over Charlotte’s face the way ominous clouds roll in right before a very bad storm. And then she read the letter, and her life as she knew it was about to change forever. She scrolled through the card and watched other videos, the various transcripts and logs of her going in and out of salacious websites. Someone had hacked her computer and effectively copied her hard drive and all its contents. What was worst was the video that had footage of her having an orgasm while watching porn videos. With that she pushed back her lap top, not wanting to touch it.

“I was being watched on my on my own laptop. How is that possible?” Charlotte thought to herself, shocked and in total disbelief.

Charlotte DeWitt was being blackmailed.

She spent the whole weekend crying, getting angry and then talking to herself many times, “Do I tell my parents? No, how can I face them about this.” About being a minor when she did this saying, “How could I have been so dumb, so reckless!!” She had no one, no best friend, no confidant for sage advice. Samantha, her old friend and lover had the scrubbed copy by now. She hadn’t heard from her, and did she really want Samantha to know that this was her on the video?

Charlotte watched the video incessantly.

After getting no sleep on Saturday night, and hardly any sleep on Sunday night, Charlotte found herself woefully exhausted. She decided not to go to classes on Sunday and called in sick at the university library. She did the same thing again on Tuesday and remained like a recluse in her apartment hoping to find an answer. Early Tuesday evening, she passed out and didn’t wake up until Wednesday morning.

Charlotte was drained of all emotion and in an almost robotic fashion, opened her laptop and executed the “Acceptance.exe” file and printed the address. She then wrote a short letter.

Wednesday, October 12

Dear Anonymous,

In order to protect my family, my friend, and others that I care about I am sending back an acceptance to your offer to keep a certain part of my past silent. You should know that I send this acceptance in protest and wish to say that a society that has someone as disgusting as you is a society in which I wish not to live in. This is beneath contempt and having no scruples, no morals, I suspect you have no trouble sleeping at night.

Signed,
Charlotte DeWitt

Later that morning, on her way to the university, late for her first class, she stopped by the post office and mailed the letter and tried not to think about it for the time being. She also left her laptop at home, powered down and unplugged, not sure she ever wanted to use it again.

Wednesday, October 12

The moment the Acceptance program was run on Charlotte's computer, a black window appeared on her screen. It was still for several seconds before an address within the same city appeared. The briefest amount of research would reveal that the address was that of a restaurant that closed down weeks ago, with the space still left empty. The post office which received the letter would typically toss into a dead letter box and forget about it, but this time a particular employee was on the lookout for such a letter. Without asking questions he scanned the letter and emailed it out, secure in the knowledge that few hundred dollars would be in his account in less than an hour. Even if such a design failed, the content of the letter really didn't matter; Acceptance had already done everything its creator required of it.

Less than a second after it was run the laptop sent a ping to a certain IP address, the signal that it was being run. Numerous settings were changed and backdoors quickly installed so that no matter what Charlotte did, as long as the device was turned on her unknown blackmailer would be able to monitor everything she did and constantly use its built in webcam to watch her. A quick wireless scan found the bluetooth in her phone, quickly installing the same surveillance package. Predefined searches began to run, sifting through her emails to find bank accounts, credit cards, password information. It was shut down before the program could find everything, but it found more than enough.

Later that day, Matt Walden received some instructions by email. Once again he followed them to the letter; a letter was printer and two more envelopes were placed in the mail to be delivered by a similarly circuitous route, and an order was placed on Amazon.com. He paid using the credit card he'd been given for exactly such a purpose, one connected to a false identity and a seemingly endless bank account. The same false information was provided to Amazon, the billing address that would appear on the receipt an empty lot in Memphis, Tennessee.


Thursday, October 13

Charlotte didn't receive any further communications that day, save for a shipment from Amazon that she didn't remember ordering. The receipt showed that it was fully paid for by an unfamiliar credit card owned by a Mr. Johnathan Docent, a small card within proclaiming the shipment a gift along with a small, personalized note: Keep these for now. You will receive further instruction. Inside the shipment were a dozen small boxes, each containing a rechargeable webcam along with the mounts and hardware needed to mount the cameras upon walls or secure them onto furniture.


Friday, October 14

Friday afternoon found two more envelopes taped to Charlotte's mailbox, a small note upon one of them instructing her to open it first. This time the letter was typed and printed out, the words start and clear.

Miss Charlotte DeWitt,

Anonymous is not an identification or organization I choose to identify myself with. As far as you are concerned, my name is SIR.

Morals and scruples are quite an intriguing thing, Charlotte. What is unthinkable to one individual may be a matter of course to another, the same action can be both necessary and monstrous to two different sets of eyes. There are many things you will need to do in your lifetime, both with and without my intervention. How many of them will you look back on with regret, and how many with fondness? Perhaps we shall find out.

The second envelope contains a floor plan of your apartment, along with several locations marked. The webcams I had delivered are to be placed in those locations and connected to your wifi network after their batteries have been charged. At 7pm on Saturday, October 15, you will turn your laptop back on and sit in front of it, holding up a piece of paper on which you have written the following sentence ten times.

I am ready to listen to you, Sir.

Naturally you have the option to ignore all of these commands or inform the authorities of what is happening. At this point you have more than enough material to prove that you are being blackmailed and have the matter investigated. I will naturally take the appropriate actions. Perhaps you will decide that this is the lesser of two evils, a choice that is well within your rights. Frankly I would be quite impressed to learn that you have done so; it takes great character to do such a thing. I would, however, like to draw your attention to a few additional details. The back of this sheet contains your bank account information and password. At the push of a button I can empty your accounts. Still, money is not everything. Perhaps pride is worth the price.

The floor plan was taken directly from the apartment building's website, several spots marked in red. Webcams in those locations would end up covering every inch of her apartment; the bedroom, the hallway, the living room, the kitchen. Even her bathroom, one placed to monitor the room itself while another was placed within her shower stall. However much of her privacy was invaded before, the cameras would ensure that absolutely no privacy was left to her at all.

Thursday, October 13th, 5:35 in the afternoon…

Working at the library with a full day of classes was just the thing Charlotte needed to keep her mind occupied and away from any conflicting thoughts concerning that awful letter that she had received on Monday. She made her decision and had hoped that maybe that she had helped to “conceal her activities” as Anonymous’ letter had said. Of course in the back of her mind lurked the unknown, and the other phrase stated in that letter from Monday, that “we will proceed from there. Your secrets will remain hidden.”

In making her frightful decision to send the letter back she had to weigh out the possible unknowns of the future. “What would he do next? Charlotte thought to herself. Today, though she was smitten with the day, feeling good about herself, about what she had learned in her classes.

Then she arrived at her apartment building . Once inside the corridor of the building, opposite the elevators was the the mailboxes for all the tenants. On the floor was a large box. Charlotte dismissed the box at first, then took her keys out and opened the mailbox for her apartment, 214. She unlocked and rotated the cylinder, then pulled open the metal door. There were three parcels of mail. Her heartbeat quickened. She pulled out the mail and flipped through each one. Junk mail, junk mail, junk mail. “Whew,” Charlotte let out with a sigh. She removed her keys, locking the mailbox door and then dropped them in her bag.

Then Charlotte looked straight down at that large box. A sinking feeling overtook her immediately. The box was an Amazon box and was addressed to her with a return name and address:

Mr. Johnathan Docent
P.O Box 1177
Grand Junction, CO 95118-1177

Charlotte picked up the box in somewhat of a panic and pressed the button for the elevator. Nothing. Both elevators were in use. Charlotte then turned toward the stairs and hurriedly broke through the door and ran up to the second floor, her short heels loudly click-clacking up the metal treads. She stumbled at one point, then regained her balance and had trouble opening the door to re-enter her floor.

Quickly trotting to her apartment, she placed the box on the floor and nervously shuffled through her bag for her keys. “Oh shit, where are they?” she said aloud to herself. Finally, she found them, unlocked her apartment door and grabbed the box and went inside.

The first thing Charlotte did was turn on her laptop. Although she had sworn to not go near it she needed it desperately. Booting it up and signing in, she went straight to Explorer and then Googgled the name and address on the package.

“Unknown address.”

“What!!” Charlotte thought to herself. Then she typed it again.

“Unknown address.”

Now she had to try to calm down. “Think, think!” Then her skills of deduction kicked in, “Look up the zip code.”

Typing in “95118” the USPS website spewed out, “San Jose, CA.”

Then she typed “95118-1177” the USPS website spewed out “Box Number Not Found.”
Charlotte now knew, fake name and fake P.O. Box and God only knows where the package originated from.

Yes the package which now called out to her.

She picked up from the floor and brought it into the living room, setting it down on the cocktail table right next to her laptop. She then went into the kitchen, found a scissor and walked back to the living room and nervously and slowly opened the box. Charlotte then opened the folds of the box, then another, and saw twelve boxes. On top was a note. Her throat became dry and she began to perspire.

The note only said the following:
“Keep these for now. You will receive further instruction.”

Charlotte dropped the note on the floor and pushed the box back. Anonymous again. For about ten solid minutes she stared at the box, her heart thumping with a quickened pace. She read the “Amazon” printed on the box and the address label with the false name and address. Slowly she reached out and pulled the box toward her. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She then pulled open the first box. It had printed on it “Motorized Wireless Webcam.”

She then pulled up the second box, the same, “Motorized Wireless Webcam.” Then a third box. The same. The fourth box the same. All the way to the last box, which she frantically opened. Inside were the instructions the webcam, and the mounting bracket and screws.

Then she screamed aloud, “What the hell does he want from me?!?!”

She stared at the webcam and it’s kit of parts. Suddenly, she knew what he was going to do. “But why me??? Who did I ever betray that would do this to me?”

Some questions Charlotte DeWitt could not answer.

All the while, her laptop was on and unbeknownst to her, someone was watching and listening to Charlotte this whole time as she sat there on the sofa scared, frustrated, and feeling quite alone right now.

Thursday, October 13

Elsewhere, an individual became aware that Charlotte's laptop was once more powered on. There was no hate in the individual or even any feelings of betrayal. At first there was nothing more than mild surprise and curiosity; he hadn't expected the laptop to turn back on until Friday. A quick check of the device's status provided the answer, a fruitless attempt to backtrack the package he'd had delivered. Quietly he watched as she screamed out her frustration and fear, a tiny smirk appearing on his lips.

Back in Charlotte's apartment, the screen of her laptop flickered briefly before turning black. A moment later her own voice filled the silence. "Hello? Oh, hey Mom!"

Her mother's side of the conversation was absent; whether her tormentor didn't have the audio or edited it out she didn't know. But the screen of her laptop turned itself on to a familiar sight: Charlotte herself with a playful smirk on her lips as she laid back on her bed, exposing the thin, pink strip of her thong covering her sex. "Oh my first classes were great! I really think I'm going to like living up here."

On the screen Charlotte rolled over onto her hands and knees, wiggling her butt at the camera before reaching back to slide her panties down her legs. "Mom, you really need to stop worrying. I'm going to be fine up here."

A small moan emerged from the laptop's speakers, the Charlotte from days past reaching between her legs to slide a finger across the pink line of her slit. "Come on, you know I wouldn't do anything like that."

Nothing short of turning off the computer would stop the video before it was finished, the pleasant, hopeful conversation of a daughter assuring her mother she would be safe while she writhed and moaned on screen. The good girl fingering herself for hundreds of strangers, staring at the camera with a lustful, needy expression. The final sentences of phone call and video alike were said together, the sounds mingling in the air.

"I'll Do be you fine, like Mom. watching I your love whore you."

At that the laptop's screen flickered once more, returning to its normal state.

As Charlotte tried to make sense of her world right now, a flicker of her laptop caught her eye, then it turned black, then the video came on and her eyes widened. She listened and watched as a scene from her not too distant past played out right before her eyes…

"Hello? Oh, hey Mom!"
"Oh my first classes were great! I really think I'm going to like living up here."
"Mom, you really need to stop worrying. I'm going to be fine up here."
"Come on, you know I wouldn't do anything like that."
"I'll Do be you fine, like Mom. watching I your love whore you."

Charlotte watched in horror as the video recounted her on a phone call with her mother while teasing those who were on the other end of her webcam and watching herself playing with her thong, wiggling her derriere, and sliding her panties down her legs. Her eyes were now transfixed as she remembered that day, she the good daughter that her mother knew, exposing her pussy, playing with the folds of her labia and then rubbing her clit with her petite fingers.

Then that last line, "I'll Do be you fine, like Mom. watching I your love whore you," drew her closer to the laptop. Charlotte’s face became almost catatonic as she slid off the sofa and onto her knees.

The laptop then flickered and then the USPS website returned with the words, “Box Number Not Found.”

Charlotte place her hand on the screen and was speechless.

“How?” She thought to herself. She then removed her hand slowly and that same odd sounding phrase went through her head, "I'll Do be you fine, like Mom. watching I your love whore you."

She then said it aloud to herself mouthing the words softly, "I'll Do be you fine, like Mom. watching I your love whore you."

Then Charlotte said it again. This time louder and slower, "I'll-Do-be-you-fine-like-Mom-watching-I-your-love-whore-you."

Charlotte jumped to her feet suddenly and ran to the kitchen where she picked up a note pad and a pencil. Then she wrote the words out. "I'll Do be you fine, like Mom. watching I your love whore you," and stared at the construction of the sentence, mouthing the words over and over.

Then the words jumped out, “Do you like watching your whore.” Charlotte stepped back and up against her refrigerator. He knees gave in and she slowly slid downward, her ass hitting the floor gently. She then pulled her knees up to her stomach and started to rock her body slightly forward and back staring out into space. Her mind try to come to grips as to what was happening to her and somehow Charlotte could not make sense of the depraved new world she had been pulled into.

Sleep did not come easy to Charlotte that night. It was so bad that she decided to take some over-the-counter sleeping pills. At about a quarter past midnight they finally kicked in and after much twisting and turning in her bed she finally went to sleep.

Friday, October 14th, 1:35 in the afternoon…

Charlotte went to her morning classes and after a small bite to eat at the university’s cafeteria she headed back home to her apartment.

The walk back gave Charlotte a sinking feeling inside of her stomach. Having a sort of sixth sense, she could envision that something awaited her back at her apartment building. Would it be another package or a letter? As she got closer and closer, the memory of finding that large parcel by the mailbox, opening up its contents, and being told to, “wait for further instructions” meant that that was coming. If not today, tomorrow, or the next day.


Now in front of her apartment building, she looked at the wording proclaiming, “Victorian Suites” held her breath, opened the door and went inside the vestibule. Charlotte took out her keys, unlocked the door to the apartment building, and slowly opened the door. She walked inside and froze. There it was, two letters taped to her mailbox. Her heart sunk to her feet and she began to perspire. Walking over nervously she grabbed the letters, decided to not check the rest of her mail, looked at the elevator and ran up the stairs.

Her hands shook at the door to her apartment, keys clanging, using the wrong key at first, then another, until finally she got the right key, turned it in the wrong direction and that pushed Charlotte to exclaim, “C’mon you stupid key!”

Now inside she dropped everything and removed her jacket, letting it too fall to the floor. She took the two letters and dropped slowly onto the sofa. She spread the letters on the cocktail table and gulped. One letter stated clearly, “Open this letter first.”

Taking a deep breath, she opened the letter and began to read. When she got to the end she sank back on the sofa. She had no doubts that if she disobeyed him, all the money that she had saved, plus the ten thousand dollars that her parents put into the account for her to use for college expenses would be wiped out. "What else did he have control over?"

She looked at the open box from yesterday and all the motorized webcams and it was as she thought, he wants to watch her in her apartment. The thoughts of what he would see were mind-numbing and disgusting. “What kind of sick pervert would do this to someone else?” “And again why me?” Charlotte thought, with no comprehension of any good answer.

And now, Anonymous was ‘Sir’ and wanted to be treated with a certain decorum, by her to referring to him as such; as if she had some sort of respect for him? Who the hell did he think he was??

But, then Charlotte remembered the fact that not only does he have the proof to blackmail her, but after what she saw on her screen yesterday she knew that ‘Sir’ had at his disposal a lot more information about her. A paranoia was now in her head. “Has he been following me? Taking pictures of me? Videos of me? While on campus? While walking home? Is he stalking me?” Does he want to hurt me? Or more to the point, is he sick enough that if I don’t do what he asks of me he will kill me?”

Charlotte was now truly scared in fear of her own life.

Saturday, October 15, 2:23 in the morning….

Charlotte was getting no sleep. She twisted and turned in her bed. She tried to envision what ‘Sir’ looked like. She had nightmares of him stalking her, of him carrying out his threats, and the worst one was of him in her apartment and breaking in and coming after her with a knife and trying to kill her. That last nightmare woke her up entirely. In a cold sweat, her sheets soaked, she got out of bed and opened the other letter. Not wanting to do it, she found a small bag of tools in her closet and began to install all twelve of the motorized wireless webcams.

While charging the batteries, she installed the hardware to each webcam - two in the kitchen, three in the living room, two in the hallway, three in her bedroom, and two in her bathroom, including the one in her shower.

When the batteries were fully charged, she noticed that the webcams had small solar panels on them, allowing for ambient lighting in a room to charge the batteries in the webcams. Charlotte went about attaching those webcams to the brackets and then slowly walked around in her pajamas, turning on all the lights and seeing that her life would change forever. He could watch her in every room, keep track of her movements, constantly take video of her and listen to her every breath, and even watch her in the shower.

Charlotte went back into her bedroom and wept uncontrollably until she was exhausted and then finally fell asleep.

All day Saturday, Charlotte did nothing, no homework, she never even went out, she never even got out of her pajamas. She procrastinated on writing, “I am ready to listen to you, Sir,” ten times on a piece of paper. It took finding an old bottle of brandy that she got her hands on, what with the little drinking she ever did. She was a teetotaler and underage for drinking alcohol.

After drinking a half a bottle of the brandy, she finally had the courage to write “I am ready to listen to you Sir,” ten times. Then she laid back on the couch, the piece of paper in her hands. Between exhaustion from no sleep and the brandy doing its job on her Charlotte fell asleep on her comfy sofa. That was around three o’clock in the afternoon.

Saturday, October 15, 8:35 in the evening…

Charlotte woke up in a stupor and felt like she were in another world. Was this thing with ‘Sir’ just a nightmare?

But then she looked up and saw two of the three webcams in the living room installed and jumped back. It was not a nightmare.

“Oh shoot! What time is it?”

Charlotte looked at her cell phone, 8:35PM. She looked back at the first letter and saw ‘“7PM” as the deadline to show her assignment given to her by ‘Sir’ up on her laptop.

Charlotte quickly turned on her laptop and saw just a white screen. She held the piece of paper up with her jittery hands that had “I am ready to listen, Sir,” written ten times about a foot away from the laptop’s built in webcam. Then she saw the screen flicker and waited in the hopes that she could explain why she was an hour and a half late on doing as she was told to the letter.

Saturday, October 15

If nothing else was accomplished during the day on Saturday, staying in her apartment all day impressed upon Charlotte the cold reality of the new cameras. No matter where she went in her apartment the cameras were there, watching her with their cold, unblinking stare. The white and black plastic cases of the small cameras, none larger than a golf ball, somewhat blended in with the walls and shadowed corners she placed them in. A casual observer entering her apartment might not even notice they were there or doubt that they were active, but her exact knowledge of their locations made it impossible to ignore or forget them, a constant reminder that she was being watched.

There was only a single piece of good news that she could uncover. The bathroom had a single camera designed to watch her at the sink and moving about the small room while a second camera watched her in the shower. If the shower curtain was closed then only a single camera would be on her, and if she stood on the opposite side of the bathroom door without fully entering the hallway, she could create a tiny blind spot in the surveillance. But of course the watcher would see her do so, witness her disappearance even if he couldn't watch what she did within. What would his reaction be?


Charlotte was already being watched by the time she began her alcoholic binge, and from the moment she collapsed upon the couch her watcher knew that she was going to most likely miss the deadline. True to his word, he waited until seven pm and verified she was still asleep before placing a phone call. The true nature of the call wouldn't be made clear to Charlotte until tomorrow evening.

When at last she woke up and all but flew towards the laptop, the screen remained black long after it should have completely turned on. A few minutes after he first displayed her written submission her desktop flickered into life. Yet though she wasn't even touching the laptop, the mouse cursor was moving. In a quick motion it opened Skype, the program automatically logging in to her chat account. It had barely opened before the mouse was moving again, quickly changing her settings so that she would appear offline to all of her contacts. Apparently the individual behind the screen had no intention of accepting any interruptions to their discussion. After a brief pause a new window appeared. [SIR] would like to be added to your contacts list. Accept? The mouse accepted the contact on her behalf, a new window opening almost immediately as a charming jingle began to play through her speakers. You are receiving a video call from [SIR]. Answer/Hang Up

Once again she was given no choice in the matter, a spinning circle appearing in the center of her screen as the window expanded to cover her entire screen. Down in one corner she could see her own face, the view of what the individual at the other end of the call would see. Connecting... proclaimed the program, before the message vanished. But what appeared upon her screen was nothing.

At first it was impossible to be certain a connection had been established. The other end of the video call was nothing but a completely black screen, no sound emitting from it no matter how loud she turned up the speakers. It wasn't until a chat window popped up and words began to appear that Charlotte could be certain she was speaking to anyone.

[SIR]: I am very disappointed in you, Charlotte. You were doing so well, only to fail to keep such a simple timetable.
[SIR]: We will be discussing the extent of your punishment at a later time. For the moment, I wish to be certain that you fully understand the situation you are now in.
[SIR]: Perhaps you think me some common pervert, a voyeur who enjoys watching young women. This is far from the truth.
[SIR]: My motivations in this matter are currently irrelevant. Perhaps we shall discuss them at a later date. Right now, this is the truth.
[SIR]: I am in possession of enough video, text and audio files to guarantee that you are ostracized from every community you are a part of.
[SIR]: I am capable of editing what I have to create even fouler imagery and further wreck your public image.
[SIR]: I am capable of cutting you off from every means of financial support.
[SIR]: I am capable of doing the same to your family and friends.
[SIR]: I am capable of having you spend a very long time in jail.
[SIR]: In short, I can destroy your life.

There was nothing more for several long moments, time to let the worst of his words sink in. Whatever response Charlotte managed to muster was ignored as he finally went on.

[SIR]: To prevent this, I have only a single demand. Obedience.
[SIR]: I will provide you with instructions. You will follow them to the letter.
[SIR]: Failure or hesitation to obey will be met with consequences. Refusal to obey will lead to your destruction.
[SIR]: Some of the instructions you may enjoy. Many you will not.
[SIR]: You will still be permitted time to go to class and further your education. If I require you to end your employment, I will provide living expenses.
[SIR]: I have no intention of putting your life in danger, nor will I require you to take the lives of others.
[SIR]: I will sometimes require you to perform illegal activity. If you are incarcerated, I will take steps to free you and clean the incident from your record.
[SIR]: Perhaps most importantly, I will not lie to you. If I make a statement to you, it is the truth. There will be things I simply do not tell you.

Silence once more for several long moments. Again her responses were ignored, until at last he began to 'speak' once more.

[SIR]: It is time for you to make your choice, Charlotte.
[SIR]: Perhaps you have questions. Perhaps you have doubts. Perhaps you wish to refuse the terms and accept the consequences of doing so. Perhaps you suffer from the misconception that you are in a position to negotiate.
[SIR]: Perhaps you believe I am bluffing and want to force me to lay my cards upon the table.
[SIR]: This is the one and only chance you have to express such concerns.
[SIR]: From the moment you say and type the words "I belong to you, Sir," then you will have accepted my terms.
[SIR]: No disobedience from that point on will be tolerated.
[SIR]: Here is your chance, Charlotte. Make the most of it.

Charlotte slowly let down the paper that had “I am ready to listen, Sir” ten times and watched with astonishment as her laptop sprang to life. Her eyes tracked the cursor as it moved to and fro across the screen. She watched intently as it opened up the program Skype then logged in to her personal account. Charlotte tried desperately to stop it by frantically hitting the keys on the keyboard but, to no avail, she no longer had any control over her own laptop. Even scarier was that when she held the tip of her finger on the power button and yet nothing happened. The laptop remained ‘ON’ and she continued to watch as [SIR] was added as a contact to her Skype account.

As the screen changed to show that a video call was coming through, Charlotte dropped that piece of paper to the floor in a trance as the spinning circle appeared and expanded to fill the entire screen. She continued to gaze at the spinning circle as her face 'popped up' on the lower left corner of the laptop screen.

Then….connecting...the spinning circle disappeared...then...a black screen. She then came out of that brief trance.

Charlotte tried to turn up the speakers yet there was no response. It seemed anything she did to her laptop did not work. Like her life, she had no control over her own computer. Someone else had full control of it (and now her life).

Then the chat window popped up and began being populated with words and then sentences. Charlotte propped herself back on her knees and began reading the chat line by line…

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

As Charlotte kept reading SIR’s remarks, the more she began to feel demoralized and helpless…she reacted in various ways to certain words and phrases…

Her punishment by him…
Ostracized from every community that she is part of…
Further wreck her public image…
Cutting off every means of financial support…
[Retaliating] against family and friends…
Having her spend a long time in jail…
...and…
Destroying her life….

Charlotte sat there in such a state of shock, so helpless, not knowing what to do, and very confused. She wanted to cry, but not in front of him, she would not give him that satisfaction. She attempted to type a response, but was at a loss for words.

Then more text prompted on her laptop screen…and, again she had to process what was being said…

Obedience…
Follow instructions to the letter…
Failure to obey and consequences [of her actions or inaction]...

And other aspects of what he had intended to do or not do to her and certain expectations of her…

His requirement to have her end employment and provide living expenses….
Her life would not be in danger and she will never be asked to kill…
Performing illegal activities…
SIR will not lie…
...and…
There will be things that [he] will not tell you…

Charlotte was relieved that she would not be in danger, but was SIR telling the truth?

Again, Charlotte attempted to write out some sort of response, she hit the keys with her fingers ~tap, tap, tap~ but nothing come up on the screen...

SIR continued with his diatribe....

Charlotte read his last few lines of text and somehow was frightened by this invisible man. Maybe it was the way he spoke, “Perhaps you suffer from the misconception that you are in a position to negotiate,” that made her pause and take what he said very seriously.

SIR asked if she had questions, now was the time. But, somehow she was now afraid to ask. Charlotte wanted to know how long this nightmare last. But, she was too scared to do so. He seemed to make it sound like he was being charitable, but Charlotte knew better. She dared not take the chance and typed the response slowly, key stroke by key stroke…

“I belong to you, Sir.”

...and then Charlotte bowed her head in shame…

...in the back of her mind, she would try to find a way out of this depraved world of his. She didn’t know when or how, but she would make every effort to try...

The next batch of text came quickly.

[SIR]: Good. I am glad that you made the wise decision, Charlotte.
[SIR]: We will begin simply. Collect the following items and bring them here. Paper and a pen. Your cell phone. Earbud-style headphones. A pair of high heels.

Once Charlotte had returned with the demanded materials her new master began to type again. The words appeared quite quickly, as though he were pasting in a prepared statement and list rather than typing it all out on the spur of the moment.

[SIR]: We will begin with a few of the rules I will be expecting you to follow. The microphone on your laptop has been turned on so that I may hear you speak. I will provide the list of rules, and you will verbally speak and write each of them down to be sure you remember.
[SIR]: Failure to remember and obey these rules will be dealt with appropriately.
[SIR]: These are the first rules of your new life. More will come.

I am with Sir at all times, unless I am in class or he tells me he is absent.

When I am with Sir, my name is Bunny.

Bunny belongs to Sir.

Sir is my Master.

Bunny will obey all commands and rules that Sir gives her. If she disobeys or hesitates, Bunny will accept all punishments Sir gives to her.

If Sir orders Bunny to listen to someone else, Bunny will obey them as though they were Sir.

Bunny will wear no article of clothing that Sir does not give her permission to wear.

The only type of shoes Bunny has permission to wear are high heels. Bunny will always wear them whether she is in or out of the apartment Sir allows her to live in.

Bunny will always be respectful to Sir.

Bunny does not have the right to demand anything of Sir, including answers. Bunny may make reasonable requests, and will accept any condition Sir chooses to impose upon his approval of said request. Bunny may ask him questions if they allow her to obey him more effectively.

Bunny will not speak about Sir to anyone, unless he instructs her to.

Bunny will never lie to Sir. If he asks her a question, Bunny will answer it completely and truthfully.

Bunny will keep herself clean for Sir. Bunny will shower every day and shave clean her legs, underarms, and pubic hair.

Bunny will not masturbate without permission from Sir.

Bunny will not date or have any form of romantic or sexual relationship without permission from Sir.

Bunny will keep the phone and laptop she uses to speak with Sir on and charged at all times. Bunny will always immediately answer any messages or calls that Sir sends to her.

When Bunny is not in the apartment Sir allows her to live in, the phone will be on and with her at all times.

The accounts with Bunny's name on them are entirely in Sir's control. Bunny will not spend money without Sir's permission.

Bunny will be a good girl for Sir.


Nothing more appeared on the screen for several long moments, up until the newly christened girl had read the lines regarding her attire.

[SIR]: You are not properly dressed, Bunny. Take care of it before you go any further.

Charlotte noticed a flicker on the screen and looked up. More text scrolled quickly across her laptop, the cursor flashing quickly as it ran from left to right then down as each sentence spewed out from SIR.

Without even a second thought, knowing how she was trapped by SIR, Charlotte easily rose to her feet when asked to supply a paper, a pen, her cell phone, earbud-style headphones and a pair of high heels. She hopped to it, literally and ran about her apartment, into the kitchen for a paper pad and a pen, into the hallway to find her bag with her college books and scour the contents for the earbuds, into her bedroom where she stopped at her closet, her heart beating fast and her adrenaline rising, not knowing what to grab - so Charlotte grabbed four pairs of shoes with heels, then back to the living room where she dropped the shoes on the floor near the cocktable - placed the pad, pen, and earbuds on the cock table and then got up again and darted toward the side table next to the sofa and grabbed her cell phone - finally plopping down in front of her laptop, her breathing now heavier and her heart beating faster.

Upon Charlotte’s return to the laptop, the cursor moved again, knowing full well that she was back. She read line after line in that beautiful soprano voice of hers; her face in horror and dismay by what was being said by SIR; what with his rules; and expectations of her to follow them and how she was to act towards him.

With pen and pad, she wrote as quickly as she could and with each line written she would state out loud each rule. From I am with SIR at all times....to my name is Bunny...to Bunny will obey all commands...to what she could or could not wear...to...everything else in between.

And she wrote one rule after another…
And she said out loud one rule after the other…

Then the cursor just blinked for a while as she finished all of her writing and verbally noting all the rules. Then the cursor moved again, dancing around on the screen. SIR was telling her to get properly dressed. Charlotte looked at he shoes on the floor, two one inch heeled shoes, brown and black and one two inch heels, in the color black. She slipped on the two inch black heels, stood up and lifted her right foot and place it so that her laptop’s webcam could view the shoe and then Charlotte said…

“Sir, all I have are one and two inch heels. The rest of my shoes are flats. Are wearing one and two inch heels permissible?”

No further updates appeared as Charlotte went through the list of rules, Sir evidently content to permit her the time to run through them on her own. The only sign she had that he was even still there was the activity of her computer, icons appearing and disappearing on the bottom taskbar as different programs opened and were shut down just as quickly. With her focus on the rules it was nearly impossible to glean any sort of meaning from the activity, and certainly her owner wasn't inclined to inform her of any of the details.

The presentation of her shoes was met with further silence for a moment. For the first time she noticed the tiny message appearing in the bottom of the chat window: [SIR] is typing... It was the first time the message had appeared throughout the entire conversation. The only way such a thing could happen would be if he was pasting in pre-typed messages throughout; just how carefully had he planned out this encounter?

[SIR]: They are not. But in the absence of acceptable footwear, they will suffice until you have corrected the situation.
[SIR]: More importantly, I am disappointed to see that you appear to have already forgotten one of the rules.

There was a pause for a few moments to see if she could work out the problem on her own. Several seconds later the message informing her that Sir was typing appeared again.

[SIR]: Bunny will wear no article of clothing that Sir does not give her permission to wear.
[SIR]: I have given you no such permissions, and yet you remain in your pajamas.
[SIR]: A clever Bunny would have realized this the moment she read the rule and acted to correct it.
[SIR]: I am going to become very impatient if I am forced to spell out everything for you.
[SIR]: One.

No explanation for the number was offered, further instructions appearing a moment later.

[SIR]: You are quite versed in stripping for an audience and posing for them.
[SIR]: Do whatever you think will excite me. And as you do, you will tell me your entire sexual history.
[SIR]: Every boy you've ever kissed. Every cock you've ever jerked. Every pussy you've ever licked.

With the silence thoughts raced through CHarlotte’s mind…
“He’s not satisfied. Shoot, is this how it’s going to be? He’s now trapped me in my apartment, trapped me by all his rules, but then he is not satisfied.” She huffed for a moment aloud, then continued with her thoughts, “Does he expect me to wear four inch, five inch heels or higher?”

Then Charlotte ran through all the rules, reading quickly and thinking in panic, “What rule?? What rule did I not follow? What is he talking about?”

Then SIR, almost reading her mind clarified his rule on what she could or could not wear.

Then Charlotte blurted out nervously, “No wait, I did realize that’s what you--

Then she was cut off by more text, and found herself reading and hanging on to his every word as if it meant her life or death. Then she read to the very end and slowly she got up.

Charlotte was nervous. Somehow this was not like the past. This was different. Yes, she stripped for strangers before, but not under these circumstances. Not with the cameras all around her, not being blackmailed like this. Somehow she could not do it in the way he asked, but she would not resist his request.

Slowly she took off her pajama top and spoke, again with a nervous overtone, “Look you have to understand, I-- I really only kissed one boy once, when I was, well when I was in eighth grade. There haven’t been any others, honest and no lie.”

Charlotte threw the pajama top onto the couch.

With no bra on her little ‘B’ cup sized boobs she slowly bent over, looking at the screen and pushed her pajama bottom to her ankles.

Again, with that high pitched nervous tone, “Boys didn’t like me in high school. I don’t know why, Maybe I wasn’t pretty enough.”

She kicked of her pajama bottom and it sailed across the living room until it landed on the floor near the kitchen.

“But then, then I met Samantha. We dated for about six or seven months. She taught me everything about sex and about fellatio and about understanding my own body and having wonderful orgasms,” Charlotte rambled on.

Then she slowly lowered her plain white panties and took them off and stood there embarrassingly for a moment before she started to put on the first two inch heeled black shoe on her left foot, then the one on her right foot.

Then she continued to ramble on about Samantha…
“She was beautiful and loving and so, so sexy. She ate my pussy and then I would eat hers out. We would both orgasm and fall into each other’s arms. She was such a loving, caring person. I loved our relationship together, our sex, and I fell in love with her until her parents moved out west. Then it was over.”

She paused thinking, “I need to ask him something.”

“Sir, if you please. About my shoes, you have noted that I should correct the situation. What does that mean? Are you giving me permission to spend some money on heels? And if so, how many pairs and what is the correct size heel. Will four inch heels do? Five? Or must they be six inch heels?” She paused then continued, “Is there a certain style, a certain brand you want? Please SIR, I am only trying to execute your orders to your satisfaction.”

Charlotte's computer gave no indication, but the entire confession and awkward striptease were being recorded at her master's end. Revelation of youthful indiscretions only went so far, after all. It would be added to the growing pile of material that she would never want released, every order she obediently followed only serving to tighten her leash rather than loose it. Nor did the impassive, utterly black screen provide her any sign of whether or not he approved. It wasn't until she'd finished and asked her question that the telltale indication that he was typing gave away his continued presence.

[SIR]: Good, very good. An excellent starting point.
[SIR]: And well done, Bunny. You're asking the correct questions, acting to serve me rather than waiting to be told what to think.
[SIR]: Sit on the couch with your legs spread. You may show me how Samantha taught you to play with yourself. Inform me if you are about to orgasm.

Silence for a few moments, Sir waiting for her to obey before continuing.

[SIR]: Tomorrow I will be sending you to the mall to acquire a few things. At that time you will also be acquiring new shoes, as well as replacements for anything else in your wardrobe I find unacceptable.
[SIR]: You will purchase pairs of five and six inch heels. Remember, they are the only shoes you will be permitted to wear. Plan accordingly.
[SIR]: This is as much a test of you understanding what will be expected of you as it is a simple matter of obedience. I'm certain you will select appropriate pairs knowing that punishment awaits if you do not.
[SIR]: Additional funds will be provided as needed. I have no intention of bankrupting you unless you give me no alternative.

*********

Down on the street, a car pulled into the apartment building's guest parking lot. The man who emerged was roughly in his thirties, dressed casually in a scuffed and faded brown leather jacket over a white polo shirt and blue jeans. Pulling his phone from his pocket he checked the building's address against the one that had been sent to him before dialing a number he'd been given almost six years ago. The phone at the other end rang once before being picked up. "Hey, bossman. I'm at the address you gave me."

"Splendid." The male voice that responded was calm, a deep and smooth baritone with the faintest hint of amusement. It spoke of a joke that the speaker was enjoying but no one else quite understood. "Thank you, Abner. Go ahead and drop off the package, then return to your car and wait. I'll be needing you here again in roughly half an hour. I'm sure you'll enjoy the experience."

"Works for me," Abner said with a shrug. No response but the dial tone of a disconnected call came back, and he chuckled faintly. Six years and the boss still liked his little dramatics.

Had Abner known of Matt Walden's existence, he would have found a kindred spirit almost immediately. After graduating college with big ideas and big dreams, a string of failed entrepreneurial enterprises nearly left Abner homeless and out on the street. The call from Bossman had been a god-send. Whoever the guy was he needed, as he put it, boots on the ground to support some of his games. The tasks he was given were sometimes nonsensical, occasionally dangerous, and quite often illegal. But the money was good, and an ill-spent youth had to be good for something after all. Besides, the perks were nothing to sneeze at.

Moving around to the back of his car he pulled a small cardboard box off the rear seat and tucked it under his arm, heading straight for the apartment doors. Bossman had already sent him a key, so it was easy for him to open the door and leave the unmarked box by the mailboxes before leaving the building. It was still early enough in the evening that there was the occasional person coming in and out, and a few college-age guys hanging around on the building's front step chatting about how wasted they were going to get that night. None of them paid him any mind.

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

Charlotte's owner had been enjoying the show for several minutes before new text appeared on the screen.

[SIR]: Bunny, you've gotten a delivery. Go fetch it and bring it back up here.
[SIR]: And before you ask no, you do not have permission to get dressed.

Charlotte, or Bunny as her new name proscribed by SIR had all sorts of sexual connotations applicable to it, stripping being being one, naked being another. Charlotte stood there quite uncomfortable in her naked skin, knowing that this misogynistic nut was watching. In her mind she tried to stay strong, but had moments of weakness and felt out of control more and more and was spiraling down into the SIR’s rabbit hole further. How interesting she thought in the back of her mind, she is now the "Bunny" in the rabbit hole.

Charlotte continued now read the new text, trying to take in, line by line, what it meant on the surface and what it meant underneath.

...an excellent starting point. (In her thoughts (IHT): [sarcastically] I’m so glad you are happy.

….acting to serve, rather being told what to think. IHT: Do I have a choice?

...show me how Samantha taught you to play with yourself… IHT: Are you kidding? And he says he’s not a pervert? Waits… He really wants me to do this. He won’t go on further until I do.

Charlotte / Bunny gets on the couch as ordered.

Not easy to get in the right frame of mind when you are coerced into doing so, Charlotte does her best to relax and begins to play with her small nipples. She takes her index finger and sexily licks it and rubs her nipples and areolae in counterclockwise circles and closes her eyes for a moment. She tries to block out SIR, his blackmailing of her, and the cameras in the room, letting out coos and low moans with that petite, high-pitched voice of hers. She can feel a mix of adrenaline and other female hormones collide, making her breathing faster.

Charlotte then places her index and middle fingers of her right hand and gently touches the outside folds of her labia. Something tells her to open her eyes, and there it is, more text on the screen.

IHT: Ah the mall, great. This SIR picks the one young lady that doesn’t like to shop. Doesn’t he know that by looking at me? Wardrobe he finds unacceptable, something tells me he will find it all unacceptable.

Charlotte/Bunny kept rubbing, but having an orgasm was getting tougher, the more she read….

IHT: Five and six inch heels???I’ll break my neck. Is this man insane? What is it with men and heels? And why do sexy women, especially those bimbos who I despise even consider wearing six inch heels?

...a test of your understanding...what will be expected of you...obedience...punishment…

IHT: I understand that you are setting me up to fail! I know it, I can feel it. Does he think I’m stupid? And what punishment? How’s he going to do that? Send someone into my apartment and spank me?

...no intention on bankrupting you unless you give me no alternative. IHT: Why is he threatening me like that? I’m surprised he doesn’t just take my money and get out of my life. Why does he want more? Because he’s a sick pervert, that’s why.

Charlotte/Bunny continued to rub her labia, but it was only to please him. She didn’t even come close to an orgasm, not with some of things she had to do and his endless little threats.

More text…

[SIR]: Bunny, you've gotten a delivery. Go fetch it and bring it back up here.
[SIR]: And before you ask no, you do not have permission to get dressed.

Charlotte slowly rose from the sofa and stood there for a moment. She wanted to protest, she wanted to scream, and then she wanted to cry. But then she calmed down and said nothing. Her thoughts of protest throughout this one sided conversation with him were just that, thoughts. The reality was that she lacked the courage necessary to fight him on anything, especially in light of his blackmailing her and her own persona in general.

Charlotte said nothing and walked to the front door. She stopped and hesitated for a moment and then open the door and bolted for a fast-paced run.

She very quickly waved her hand at the elevators and dashed down the stairs in the hopes of not running into anybody. Her small boobs bounced and the click-clack of her two-inch heels was an attention-getter.

Of course Trisha MacLeod, who lived in room 401 was getting her mail when Charlotte came down the steps. Trisha looked at Charlotte with shock in her face.

Charlotte covered her bosom with folded arms, her vagina still a bit wet from playing with it moments ago. She bent over and picked up the package and said to Trisha, “Sorry!” Then ran back up the stairs as fast as she could.

Once in the apartment, she shut the door and locked it and, breathing heavily, her face red with embarrassment, she placed the small package on the cocktail table and fell back down on the soft sofa, one leg on it and one leg off, a perfect view of her pussy could be seen by SIR.

Charlotte looked at the ceiling, a hand on her forehead thinking, “Why is this happening to me?”

There was a few moments pause after her return that her computer beeped cheerily, signaling the arrival of another message.

[SIR]: Tell me what happened, Bunny. Tell me how you felt about doing that.

Only once she'd finished did he speak again.

[SIR]: Thank you for sharing that with me.
[SIR]: Open the box now. There will be several smaller packages inside, each numbered. Please pull out the packages labeled with the number one.

When the box was opened there were indeed six tiny packages, most irregularly shaped and individually wrapped up in brown paper. The three on top were each marked with the number one.

[SIR]: I expect that you hate me right now. It is a perfectly reasonable reaction. I have given you little reason to do otherwise.
[SIR]: I wonder if you believe me when I say I am not doing this entirely for my own benefit, but for yours as well.
[SIR]: Regardless. There are many things I will ask you to do that will require a certain degree of trust. There will be situations that any reasonable person would assume are far too risky for anyone, much less a young woman on her own.
[SIR]: I have told you I will not lie or put you in danger, but I accept that you have no cause to believe me.
[SIR]: Are you familiar with the concept of a trust fall?
[SIR]: Open the packages now.

The first package contained two pairs of manacles, steel bands connected by a short length of chain along with a pair of handcuff keys. The interior surfaces of the manacles had been liberally padded with soft cloth and cushioning, clearly designed to avoid the chafing and damage that purely metal restraints could deal. Next was what at first seemed to be a bundle of leather straps folded into a tiny package. Unfolded, it looked like a modern variant of a chastity belt; a pair of leather panties with a leather belt designed to be secured tightly above the wearer's hips. A small padlock built into the buckle insured that they could not be removed without the key, currently inserted into the lock. The patch that would rest over her sex was made of a stiff leather surrounded by soft cloth, the interior surface ridged and bumped so that every movement, no matter how small, would cause the texture to rub up against her with a single large, rounded bulge that would press directly between her lips. The third package contained two rather more common items; a black eye mask that would serve as a blindfold, and a leather ball-gag with a bright red ball in the center.

[SIR]: There can be no trust where there is coercion.
[SIR]: There will be no consequences to disobeying this order. If you refuse, we will simply move on without punishment or threat.
[SIR]: In a few moments, I will ask you to bind and blind yourself.
[SIR]: While you are bound, a man will enter your apartment. I am not this man. You have never met him, nor has he ever met you.
[SIR]: You will be completely helpless, and unable to provide any meaningful descriptions of the man. He will be in a position to do absolutely anything he wants to you without fear of retribution.
[SIR]: Do you believe me when I say he will not touch you at all?

There was a pause to permit her to answer before he went on.

[SIR]: If you refuse then I will ask you to do this again at a later date, but once again I will not coerce you.
[SIR]: But sooner or later you will be placed in a similar situation whether you trust me or not. I would much prefer the former.
[SIR]: My goals cannot be fully met if you do not believe that I am in full control of whatever situation you may find yourself in, that despite appearances I will never permit you to be in any true danger.
[SIR]: I am asking, not ordering, but asking you to fall.
[SIR]: Do you trust me to catch you?
[SIR]: Speak freely. Ask whatever questions you may have.

Charlotte / Bunny turned to the screen of her laptop when she heard the beep and read what Sir had wrote. She took a moment to think carefully on one hand and kept a calmness about her around him. Then she spoke out loud.

“Well, it was certainly embarrassing for me. I felt humiliated and quite cheap about how I value the most personal parts of my body. I suppose I was lucky that I ran into only one neighbor, but quite frankly it might have been better if it were some stranger.”

She paused for a second to catch a breath of air…

“On the other hand, I would be lying if I didn’t say that I found it to be the most exhilarating, freeing feeling having done that.”

SIR wanted her to open the box now.

Charlotte / Bunny was tense now. She wasn’t excited. This was not a birthday gift. This was him, the man who was trapping her with his blackmailing and issuing to her his rules. “What could it be?” She thought. Whatever it was, it wasn’t what she could have possibly thought.

She did as she was told, slowly taking out each package marked number one.

Then more text across her laptop screen. SIR was so on cue. Charlotte / Bunny knew one thing about this man; that he had this entrapment of her was planned out for many steps. Not just five or ten, but twenty steps or beyond. Trying to figure out his next move would be close to impossible. Could she find a pattern in his behavior? Maybe. She also was relegated to the fact that he was devilishly smart. How could she overcome that?

In his question about a trust fall she blurted out an answer with a lilt of sarcasm in her tone, “Yes, I know what it is.”

Then he asked her to open the packages that she took out.

Charlotte / Bunny opened the first package and her eyes widened. Then she opened the second package and she gutturally placed her hand over her mouth and let out a high-pitched screech expressing her shock. Then she opened the third package and saw the blindfold and curiously picked up the gag, then dropped it as if she realized she had just touched something not meant to be touch such as medical waste.

She sat there not knowing what to think of these items.

A beep and more text flashing across the laptop screen…

Charlotte jumped back a bit regarding some strange man entering her apartment. SHe then continued to read...

[SIR]: Do you believe me when I say he will not touch you at all?

Charlotte / Bunny’s mouth was dry and words were hard to say aloud. When she spoke, it was low, like an utterance and with a stutter. “Ye- Yes, I- I suppose I- I do.”

A beep and more text across her screen and then lastly...

[SIR]: Do you trust me to catch you?

There was still some shock and unknowingness; a sense of curiosity; and deep down, wanting to do as he said - wanting to be a part of this game. There was a flash in Charlotte / Bunny’s mind. She recalled seeing a movie a while back on her laptop. The movie was called, “Secretary.” It starred James Spader and Maggie Gyllenhaal. She found it to be fascinating and now recalled the relationship of the protagonist, Lee and her boss, Mr. Grey, the protagonist of the story. She recalled thinking what it would be like to be Lee, to be spanked hard, to be in bondage like Lee, and to be so submissive. Was what SIR was doing to her much different than the character, Mr. Grey?

She wasn’t sure that she could trust SIR, but she didn’t say no...this time, no utterance, no stutter...
“I don’t know.”

No questions. That’s all she said.

Somewhere far away, a man smiled faintly at the young woman on his screen. Truth be told he hadn't expected her to admit what was happening quite so quickly. It hadn't taken him much more than a few glances at her internet history and a scan of the posts she'd been making to realize she would be a prime candidate, and now his expectations were being exceeded. It was so delightful when something happened that he didn't expect. Of course she was yet to fully realize what she truly wanted, perhaps limited to curiosity about submission. It was made clear by the hesitation in her answer, the admittance of ignorance. But she had not said 'no,' and that was all the room he needed. For a moment he simply watched her, the young woman plagued with indecision. The more confused she felt now, the better it would be when the decision was taken away from her.

Reaching out to the phone beside him he quickly dialed, the phone ringing twice before being answered. "Yo, boss, is this going to take much longer? I told my wife I wouldn't be getting home too late tonight."

"I doubt this will take that much longer," the man said calmly, reaching out to start typing. He'd long ago mastered the art of maintaining multiple conversations at once. "Now listen carefully."

********

Bunny's unknown tormentor was silent for a few moments before his messages began to appear once more.

[SIR]: It is understandable. Trust is earned, not given. It is not an easy decision.
[SIR]: But the time for indecision is past.
[SIR]: Stand up, put on the chastity belt and lock it about yourself. Now.

Whether she obeyed or not the commands kept coming, the text appearing in a single block that must have been copied and pasted rather than typed out in the moment.

[SIR]: Take the phone, the headphones, and the items from the package into the bedroom. Lie down on the bed on top of the covers. Use one pair of manacles to lock your ankles together and close one wrist into the second pair. Leave the phone and all of the keys on the bedside table. Put on the ballgag. Put on the blindfold. Put your hands behind your back and close your other wrist into the manacles. You will not attempt to conceal yourself, or protect yourself.
[SIR]: When you are ready, I will let the man into your apartment.

********

"Shit, really?"

The man shook his head slightly. Abner was a useful tool, but the gentleman simply failed to act with anything resembling proper decorum. "I was not unclear. The matter will be handled satisfactorily, I trust?"

"Yeah, of course." Abner chuckled faintly. "Damn, gonna enjoy-"

"You will not touch her in any manner unless I say," the man interrupted.

"Come on, it's not like I'm gonna-"

"Abner," he said in a low voice; almost nothing had changed, yet suddenly there was menace in the tone.

Silence for several long moments. "Yeah. Yeah, I got it."

"Good."

Line by line, SIR spoke to her in this silent way, by text keeping his identity unknown…

Charlotte / Bunny read each line attentively. Oddly, the way SIR did speak; the words he said and the way he wrote them to be said was confusing her even more. Especially when he agreed with her.

[SIR]: It is understandable. Trust is earned, not given. It is not an easy decision.

Then she read on. He now gave her an order. Though Charlotte / Bunny could not help but respond since his orders were written with a tone meant to be sound threatening. Somehow, she felt cold inside when he spoke like that. She knew at this point he had the upper hand, she knew she would have to comply to his order.

He ordered her to put the chastity belt on.

Charlotte / Bunny picked up the leather contraption from the cocktail table. She stared at it for a moment to figure it out. Where her legs would go mostly, but she still looked at it with questioning eyes. She saw the ridges and bumps that were fused to the odd article of clothing, not knowing exactly what to expect. Then she proceeded to put it on as ordered by SIR.

As she pulled the leather chastity belt, she noted its snugness against her upper legs. She pulled up slowly and the first thing that happened was the settling of those ridges and bumps on her sex. She gave out a soft **COO** and felt the rush of this thing becoming one with her sex. Somehow it seemed perfect fitting like a glove on a hand; as if it were made only for her.

She continued to pull up and wrapped the belt part around her waist, just above her hips. She felt the soft side of the thin part of the leather settle within her crack. Her ass cheeks seemed to take hold of it and somehow it felt surprisingly comfortable. Charlotte / Bunny then placed the end of the belt through a slot in the metal hardware until it was snug and then slowly turned the key from the padlock and removed it.

She stood there reading more text on the screen of her laptop.

Charlotte / Bunny continue to do as he said, she picked up the two pairs of manacles with the short length of chain, the headphones, her phone; the black eye mask, the ball gag, and the key for the chastity belt which was still in her hand.

She took her first few steps to the bedroom and felt those hard ridges and bumps rub against her sex. She let out a soft *COO* then a *MOAN** as the chastity belt was doing to her the things that Samantha once did to her down there.

She continued to marched off to her bed thinking to herself on one hand, “What am I doing?” But, was conflicted and also thought, “What has he got me doing?” As if intrigued by this whole experiment. But she was oh so weakened in the knees as every step meant that those bumps and those ridges were kissing the folds of her labia and uncannily rubbed ever so slightly against her clit.

Entering her bedroom she held the door frame with her right hand, her breathing now faster and rougher, she could not help but let out a very low **MOAN**

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

Now she got in her bed. Sitting up, she slowly picked up one set of manacles and nervously opened a manacle, placed it around her left ankle and closed it. With its ominous **CLICK** she jumped and her heart began to race. She knew he was physically restraining her. She was doing the dirty work for him, yet she was compelled to continue.

**CLICk**

The right ankle was locked. She then placed the second set of manacles around her left wrist and removed that key and placed it with the other two keys. Charlotte / Bunny then placed the phone, the headphones, and all the keys on the bedside table as ordered, leaving the black eye mask and ball gag on the bed.

She proceeded as if she were somehow in a different state of mind. As if she had been put in a trance by SIR; almost feeling as though she were having some out-of-body experience.

She placed the ball gag in her mouth and tied the rubber strap around her head making it snug. Then she put the black eye mask on her head and had it resting over her eyes.

Now everything went dark.

Charlotte / Bunny got comfortable, positioning herself on the middle of the bed - on top of her duvet, and her head resting comfortably on one of her bed pillows. She slowly placed her left arm behind her back and, with her heart racing a mile-a-minute, she grabbed hold of the other manacle and with much effort got it around her right wrist.

The last thing she heard was that ominous **CLICK**

Charlotte / Bunny could hear her breathing and her heart beating. She lay there in nervous anticipation and was now helpless to her captor.

[SIR]: Good girl.

The statement appeared just before she turned away from the computer and headed into the bedroom, her master's quiet approval chasing her onto her bed. Even once she was in the bedroom his presence was there through the cameras, the tiniest, almost inaudible sound marking the cameras' motions as they focused upon her bed. Her every action was carefully watched, and even once the blindfold was on the knowledge that Sir was seeing everything remained. Both alone and on display, Bunny was left in darkness and silence for several long minutes. The belt was to press so neatly against her that every movement, no matter how slight, rubbed gently against her nethers. Both sets of manacles had a short enough chain that her limbs couldn't separate by more than a few inches, the blindfold entirely cutting off her light.

With nothing but her own breaths and the rapid beat of her heart to keep time, it was difficult to tell exactly how long she'd been lying there before she heard the front door of her apartment open. It closed again a moment later. Heavy footsteps began to echo down the hall towards her, an utter stranger moving through her sanctuary. With every dull thud the footsteps came louder and louder, until they stopped a short distance away. Even without sight she could feel the man's presence, feel a hungry male gaze crawling over her exposed form; the small but perky turn of her breasts, the taut firmness of her rear, the leather belt both imprisoning and providing her pleasure. His steps came closer until she could hear him directly beside the bed, so close he could reach out his arm to do anything he wanted.

But the feared or perhaps desired touch never came. Nor did the man speak as he moved about her bedroom, only the sounds he created offering any clue as to what he was doing. A disturbance at her bedside table, followed by the rapid tapping of someone typing upon a touchscreen. The object was replaced and the man moved about the room. Drawers were opened, cloth rustled and coathangers clicked. There were several dull fwumps of something soft falling to her floor. Several minutes of such sounds passed before the footsteps retreated once more, fading down the hallway. The door to her apartment opened and shut, but his footsteps remained inside. Down the hall it was more difficult to hear anything but the footsteps and an occasional louder sound; a snap, a thump, a scrape. Several more minutes passed.

At last the steps returned to her bedroom, coming directly forward until he was standing directly beside her bed. Suddenly a hand was on her; thick, rough fingers touched the smooth skin of her cheek, a firm, possessive touch sliding down the line of her jaw. "Hold still," said a rough male voice; it was deep and gravely, someone purposefully making their words gruff and brusque. "He wants you to be able to talk."

The hand on her chin turned her head to the side, exposing the buckles keeping the ball gag between her lips. It kept her in place while the other began to undo the strap, finally pulling the ball, wet from drool, free of her mouth. The hands left and once more something clicked near her bedside table. Carefully the two earbuds were inserted into her ears, muffling the sound around her and corrupting one of the few senses that weren't denied her. A moment later the sound of a dialing phone filled her ears. She was dimly aware of the phone being placed on the bed beside her so that her mouth would be near its microphone as the phone rang once before being picked up.

"You're doing very well, Bunny." The baritone voice of her master was nothing like the rough grumble of the man beside her, and if there were doubts in her mind that man's silence as her master spoke dispelled them. He had the slightest hint of a refined English accent, the smooth words tender and somehow loving. "I am very pleased with you. How do you feel?"

Her mysterious visitor was not idle as Bunny first heard the voice of her master. His own instructions came through his phone, and though Bunny couldn't possibly know it a smile touched his face. He waited until she was nearly finished speaking before his hand descended once more.

With no warning Charlotte suddenly felt a firm pressure against the patch between her legs, the stiff bumps and ridges pushing ever more tightly up against her. Slowly the finger began to move back and forth, the motion constantly changing and shifting the source of the pleasure between her legs. "Tell me the truth, Bunny. Would you like him to help you take care of that?" Sir asked in a gentle tone, but for the first time she could hear a bit of the steel beneath his words. "You'll have to ask him to do anything more than this. And you'll need to return the favor."