From zitterow@pacbell.net Fri Apr 11 18:56:28 1997 Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!sprint!uunet!in2.uu.net!206.153.200.163!midnight.postino.com!szdc2!szdc!news From: zitterow@pacbell.net Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: THEMENITE "Stories by DIEDRE" "Month" www.nastystories.com Date: Fri, 11 Apr 1997 22:56:28 GMT Organization: None Lines: 808 Message-ID: <335eaa1e.6413202@snews.zippo.com> Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Newsreader: Forte Agent 1.0/32.390 ~From: an65862@anon.penet.fi ~Subject: deirdre: Month ~Date: Sat, 8 Apr 1995 12:55:37 UTC Permission granted to archive, repost, or publish in low-cost CD-ROM archives of alt groups. Permission granted to publish in anthologies of this type of material if attributed to deirdre and an author's payment is sent to AIDS research in the name of deirdre. -- deirdre Month by deirdre, 1/28/95 "So when will we be leaving?" We were always going somewhere so I knew Becky would have an answer. "Tomorrow: an 8 A.M. flight for Miami," Another early morning. Well I was used to them. Becky takes care of me--she runs my life; I knew without thinking that she had everything arranged. "How long?" "Four days, then Paris." I like Paris--I'm always up for that trip despite the flight. "Gaultier?" "No, that's next month." "Will we be there long?" "Two days." She must have seen my disappointed look: "Thinking of chucking it and retiring there?" "Of course not. Well, not yet." "So you plan to stick it out and collect the ten million the world is still willing to pay you." "I suppose." She thought for a second, then let out a giggle. "How would you like to earn the whole ten million in a month?" "Becky; you didn't tell me you were a gambler." I smiled to make sure she took it as a joke. "Gambler? Oh," and she laughed. "No, it's a job. I wasn't planning on even mentioning it to you; I mean: it's too crazy." "Someone offered to pay me ten million for a month's work?" "Yes," she said, stifling a laugh. "Revlon! But..." "No--it's anonymous." "*Anonymous*!" "That's why I wasn't even going to consider it." "Some penniless crackpot." She paused, then said more seriously: "Actually, the agency says it's quite legitimte." "Oh, please!" "No! It *is*. I was so curious that I had them checked into it. The law firm conveying the offer doesn't joke around." "Some unknown company offered me ten million for a month's work?" "Yes, isn't it a stitch?" "What did they want me to do?" "They didn't say: it all seems quite mysterious." "Ten million!?" "Yes." "For some unknown service I can provide them!" The possibilities boggled the mind. "That's it. That's the deal." I don't know what came over me. It was just so crazy, and I felt crazy myself. "Ask for fifty." She looked thoughtful. "This is a little wild for you. Are you sure you want to get involved with this?" "I'm not getting involved, I'm just letting them know *one* of my conditions!" "Don't you think it's dangerous?". But then her expression changed and finally she giggled again, "Fifty million!" "Come on, Becky, I know you'd like to know what they'll say." Three days later I was coming back from the day's shoot and out of the blue, Becky says "They agreed!" "Who! What!" She had an almost stricken look on her face. "The fifty million! They've agreed to pay it." "No way!" "They did. Here, look at this." She handed me a letter. I started scanning it. *We are pleased to meet your asking price, fifty million dollars...* I gasped. "Did they say any more about what it's about?" "No. Well, they did say... they suggested that for meeting your price that you owe them the chance to explain the details and sell you on the idea." "Becky, I don't know about this!" "I *knew* you shouldn't lead them on. I think you'd better stand them up." I couldn't believe it. Fifty million dollars! One month! Either there was some kind of sex involved or it was a whale of an advertising campaign! Fifty million for sex? It had to be the richest man in the world, or one of them. Some middle-east oil sheik? "What do they want me to do? To hear the details." "They want you to contact a certain bank next time you are in New York City." A bank? Well, with fifty million, I guess a bank would be involved. Walking through the bank's lobby, I got the usual stares. Well, they'd have something to talk about when they got home. I thought of my mother and what she would do if she'd happened upon a celebrity. I guess they'll be entertaining their friends for a month. Then we were in the elevator. The receptionist at this Mr. Prescott's office showed us in immediately. He was older, perhaps fifty, tall and only slightly heavyset, with thinning gray hair. He quickly dispensed with formalities and got right to the point. "My work at the bank is to handle delicate escrow situations, usually associated with the sale of private corporations. Before I explain the financial portion of the proposal, I was instructed to give you this sealed envelope and allow you to read the contents." I opened the envelope. In it was one short typewritten paragraph: *If you agree to this proposal, you will place yourselves in the hands of agents made known to you by Mr. Prescott who will transport you by private jet to an island whose location will never be revealed. After one month's time, you will be returned to Mr. Prescott with no physical injuries and no harm to your reputation.* I looked up at him, staring. He spoke up: "I have been given complete control of accounts valued at two hundred million dollars with the instructions to transfer fifty million to your control the very moment you place yourself in my client's hands, and to transfer the other one-hundred fifty million at the end of the month if I judge you are not returning in perfect physical shape, and with your reputation intact. And even after my initial judgement, I will continue to control the one hundred fifty million for twelve months, it being stipulated that I will still transfer it to you if I later judge the conditions of the agreement have not been met. "I'm instructed not to accept any answer from you at this point. I will contact you in three days to see if you have reached a decision. If you remain reluctant, the offer will remain open though naturally my client retains the right to withdraw the offer at any time. Thank you for your time." I sat there staring at him. This was so crazy. He gathered some papers into a pile, took his attache case and left, excusing himself, leaving us alone in the office. Becky and I left immediately after. "Becky, can you believe this? Two hundred million?" "Listen, let's forget all this, please!" Becky was a little predictable--she seemed to think I wasn't a grown woman, capable of keeping out of trouble. "But it's so outrageous." "You shouldn't mess with them! With that money, they're serious. Please just tell him no and forget it." "Oh, I'll tell him no all right, but it's just so amazing that this mysterious client is spending so much! Two hundred million!" "That's only if they don't keep their part of the bargain. I wish I'd never brought this up--can't you get it off your mind?" "A mysterious island!" "Look, *please* get your mind on something else! You'll tempt yourself into it!" Becky could be like that: afraid to even *think* about something wild like a fifty-million dollar offer at, well, prostitution probably. I'd be the most expensive hooker ever! I gave Becky a break, but I couldn't help wonder what kind of man this was making this offer. I thought about it. I go to an island, and fulfill this guy's fantasy. He doesn't hurt me and no one ever knows about it. I have sex with him. Fifty million dollars in one month! What would he be like? Old? Fat? I'd never know. Could he be young? How would a young man get so much money? What sort of man was so turned on by my kind of looks that he'd spend fifty million dollars? Why didn't he just propose to me? Not that I'd necessarily accept. Maybe he figured that. It was all so weird. But I couldn't get my mind off it. "You're thinking about that offer, aren't you?" Becky asked. She knows me. She had a disgusted look on her face. "I'm just curious about it," I answered. "Don't think about it!" she said. "*Please* put it out of your mind!" Good old Becky. She ought to have known me well enough to know her warnings would just make me more curious. I wondered all day about the call from Mr. Prescott. I never got it. "He never called," I mentioned to Becky that night. She didn't say anything. Not *thank heavens* or anything. "You're probably glad," I finally added. I noticed something about the way she was acting. I spoke up again: "he called, didn't he?" "You didn't need to talk to him!" "It's *my* decision!" "But you *can't* decide to do something like this! It's *impossible*!" "Becky!" My voice was raised. I paused, and consciously lowered it. "I'm sorry: you help me manage my career, and I'm grateful you're looking out for me." She looked visibly relieved. We didn't say any more--in fact, we were a little too quiet with each other. I thought as I lay in bed. Fifty million all at once. Retire in Paris. Maybe do a few runway shows a year, only whatever I feel like. The Riviera. Anytime. A yacht. Two. No, a big one with a huge crew. Go to benefits. Give money to the President's reelection. Big money. People would be coming to *me*! "You should have given me the call," I said to Becky in the morning. "If he calls again, make sure you get him back for me." I looked at her. She didn't answer me and she looked nervous. "He said he'd call again, didn't he?" "Yes." "Listen, you really don't have to worry about this. I'm a grown woman and can take care of myself." She suddenly looked *very* nervous. I was briefly thrown again by her attitude--it's not like I was planning on accepting the deal or anything! I was on break when she approached, the phone in her hand. She didn't even say a thing--I could just see from her look what it was. "Please!" she mouthed to me. I still couldn't believe she was so worried about this. I took the phone. "Well, have you made your decision yet?" "I... I'll do it." I couldn't believe I said it. Becky almost fainted. We stood in the wind at an airport. A small jet was in front of us. Mr. Prescott explained the details, going on and on about how he was going to transfer the fifty million immediately and would be there when I returned, and that Becky would be there too, to corroborate his judgement. And how a person was arranged to take over custody of the account if anything should happen to him. And on and on he went. I stared at the plane. There were two men, both in dark grey coveralls. One must be a pilot. "Take care of yourself," Becky said, looking worried and forlorn. I crossed the field to the jet, which was ready to go. I had no luggage, as per instructions. The men both wore sunglasses. They assisted me through the door, and into a seat. Then one of them showed me a blindfold and put it on me. Then I was strapped in the seat. Then I was handcuffed! "Hey! I don't need to be..." Something was pushed in my mouth! Gagged! Somehow, I didn't imagine it like this! It had been very clear that I was putting myself under the man's control. I had even thought about being tied up. And whipped--or something. Facing this for real was something else, though. They put earphones on me. There was soft music and a voice, a low woman's voice that kept saying relax and go to sleep. We flew and flew. Blindfolded and gagged, it seemed forever. I don't think I slept. Finally we landed and I was unstrapped and led out of the plane. Still blindfolded, handcuffed, and gagged. I was made to stoop down and kneel on the ground. My bound hands were attached to something on the ground. Then my clothes were ripped off, piece by piece! Then my gag was removed. "What's going on?" I said, almost reflexively. "Quiet!" came the one word answer. I cringed. Then they left! Took off! I heard the jet leave--there was no way I could miss that, then absolutely nothing! I was kneeling on the ground, wearing nothing but a blindfold and handcuffs, my hands attached to the ground, outside, and had no idea what was going on around me. I couldn't hear a thing! I just knelt there and waited. Finally it got to be too much for me. I bent my head down to my hands and pulled off my blindfold. Ocean. It was all around--I was on a small, completely flat island with absolutely nothing, and with ocean as far as I could see in every direction! It was rocky and flat without a bit of vegetation, and there was a single runway. My handcuffs were attached to a metal ring that was attached to a large rock in the ground. I could see that it was easy to detach my hands, but I couldn't reach the release! I sat there and sat there. I started getting worried. I recalled the money--fifty million dollars; two hundred million! I'd stopped thinking about it--the reality was so much more... *frightening* than my imaginings. It seemed forever. Finally I heard something and turned to see a plane approaching. It was pretty close by the time I noticed it above the sound of the ocean. It was completely black--not even a number painted on it-- and was another small jet similar to the one I'd been on. I watched as it landed and pulled up. Two people got out: a man and a woman. Both wore sunglasses and I couldn't see their faces well. Both were dressed very neatly: in suits! "Oh, thank God you're here," I said, unable to control myself, I guess. The woman put her finger over her lips, indicating that I should stay quiet. The man picked up the blindfold off the ground and put it back on me. I was detached from the ground and made to stand and soon they had me in the plane. My handcuffs were removed, but then I was guided to lying face down in it and tied down, spread-eagled. The plane took off. I lay there, unable to move, flat on my stomach. The flight went on and on. No one said anything to me though I heard a little talking. Finally we landed. I heard them get out of the plane. I was left there for several minutes. Finally the door opened again and I heard someone say "Uh huh... OK." Then it shut again. It seemed like forever, and it finally opened and someone detached me from the floor and handcuffed my wrists again and led me out of the plane, still blindfolded. It was immediately obvious that a number of people were around. Mostly they didn't talk about me, but occasionally they referred to "her" or "the merchandise" and it was evident they were talking about me. Then I was walked for a while and ended up in a building of some sort. Finally my blindfold was removed. It was like a little air terminal and there were numerous people going in and out, none paying me any attention! It had been a man dragging me in and he had brought me to a woman. The man was in coveralls that suggested "airport", but the woman was in a neat little dress. She smiled at me. "Welcome to our island," she said. She was beautiful, and tall, and photogenic, I guessed. She could be a model. Her cheerfulness struck an odd chord with me. Occasionally someone would peek at me, but for the most part, no one seemed to care. Then she told me to follow her and led me out. The island was very pretty and green and I was sure it was in the tropics somewhere. Beyond that, I had no idea. There were numerous other people, some of whom took the trouble to look at me and some who didn't seem to notice! There I was, naked and handcuffed, being led among all those normal-looking people. The woman could definitely be a model. I saw other women who looked like models. Briefly I wondered why this guy needed *me*. Finally I was led into a rather large building, down a hall, and into a bedroom. "This is where you will stay, at least for now," she volunteered. She looked down the hall and said something, and another woman came in. She was also tall and looked to be a model, but she was dressed in a plain gray dress, like a maid's. "Jill here will take care of you, for now," the woman said and she took off my handcuffs. At last! Jill's dress had a belt and the woman attached the handcuffs to it and gave Jill the key. "Grab Jill's wrist," the woman said. I stared for a moment, confused. "Grab it!" she repeated and Jill held one arm out to me so I could take hold of her wrist. I didn't manage to. In two seconds, I was on the bed, face down, Jill straddling my body, with my hands behind me. "Just remember that Jill has been trained to handle people like you," the woman said, and left. "You should take a bath," Jill said and she went into the bathroom and started running water. I looked around the room. I wondered about clothes. There was a closet door so I peeke in. Nothing. In a dresser, every drawer was empty. I checked the door to the hall: it was locked. I finally joined Jill in the bathroom. This was an attractive jail cell. The bathroom was huge and the bath looked wonderful--it was a very large rectangular tub. Jill had prepared it with bubble-bath. She held my hand as I stepped in. I needed this. I felt like I was worn out from doing nothing. From the tension, I guess. I just sat in there, and relaxed. Jill started doing my hair. She was behind me--I looked back at her and she was wearing a one- piece swimsuit; it was styled like a racing suit. Her body was good--she *had* to be a model. "Do you model?" In finally asked. "I used to." "How long have you been here?" "No talking now. Relax." She continued to do my hair. She worked slowly and was very gentle. "Who brought me here?" "I said 'relax'." She finished my hair and knelt next to me, doing my face. She was very careful and knew what to do. "You will find out more tonight," she finally said. She started washing my shoulders. I was being prepared. She finally left and I lay there, just sitting. She never asked me to get out, but finally I did. There was a huge towel which I dried myself with, then I wrapped it around myself. She came back, again in her dress, and readied a hair-dryer. We didn't say a word--she just kept working. When she was done, she left the room. I saw her open the door to the hall. I followed her. I could try to get out, but I knew she could stop me in a second. She bent down, evidently picking something up. It was a tray of food. She put it on a table and indicated that I should sit with her. I was definitely hungry. "Take off the towel," she said, before I sat. "Can't I just wear it right now?" "Take it off." Her voice had grown a little harder and she started toward me. I quickly took it off. She reached out her hand and I gave it to her. She took it into the bathroom, then returned and we sat down and ate. Silence. We didn't talk. If she wouldn't or couldn't talk about my "employer", then there didn't seem to be much to say. She did look at me occasionally. She looked at my face sometimes and sometimes at my body. It was embarrassing. Again it occurred to me that I was earning my money. After dinner she put the handcuffs back on my wrists. Then she opened the door and led me out. We went down hallways. We occasionally walked by other people: also tall women in maids' outfits. Some of them nodded at Jill and some said hello. And some stared at me. They were all absolutely beautiful. Finally she led me into a large room. It was rather dark, with just a little light from the other side of the room. She sat me down on a backless seat about ten feet into the room. Then she took off my handcuffs and then cuffed my hands behind my back. Then she attached my leg to a chain, you call it a shackle I suppose. The chain was attached to a ring that was attached to the floor next to one leg of the chair. Then she blindfolded me. I heard her leave. I'd had a little chance to see the room. It had a long U-shaped table wrapping around the spot where I was sitting. It was on a raised platform--or I was in a sunken part of the room. The table was long, at least ten feet away from me, and went halfway around the room. Some chairs were on the other side of the table, but no one sat there. The walls of the room were white while the ceiling and floor were perfectly black. The low lighting was on the walls behind the table. I just sat there, blindfolded, wondering what was going to happen. Then my blindfold was removed. I'd heard nothing! It was Jill next to me. She was completely naked. She walked away with the blindfold. The chairs were occupied. I realized that there were five. They were spread around the table. The lighting was such that their faces were all in shadows. No one said anything for a minute. They all just looked at me. "Hello, Michelle," came a voice, finally. It was the man directly in front of me. I looked around at the others. Michelle! "We're going to call you Michelle, because we *like* that name. After all, for the price we paid, we can pick your name." Should I ask him something? I felt like I should do whatever was going to make this month easiest for me. "Let me say a little about who we are, Michelle," he finally continued. "The five of us are quite wealthy people, as you might guess, and we share an interest in your... person. Naturally, you won't know our names. We decided to pool our resources to see if we might strike a deal with you." Looking at them, I realized that one of them was a woman! The man in front went on: "You will do some things this month that you might find, shall we say, unpleasant? But then, there are many women who *do* enjoy these things. Please stand up, Michelle." I stood up. "Turn around." I turned so my back was toward them. Jill was standing by the door, holding my blindfold. She was still completely naked. "Very good, Michelle. I think we are getting our money's worth. Please sit down again." He waited while I sat. "You need worry about nothing this month--we will have no trouble making certain you do what is required of you. Good evening, Michelle." A blindfold was slipped over my eyes again. My shackle was released and I was pulled to indicate I should stand, then was led out of the room. I continued to be led, blindfolded, for a while, through the building. Finally, the blindfold was removed again. Becky was there! I was never so surprised in my life! She was sitting at the table where Jill and I had eaten before! "Becky!" was my greeting. "Hello, 'Michelle'," she said, smiling at the name she called me. Jill undid the handcuffs behind me. She was still naked. She took the handcuffs and walked into the bathroom and shut the door. "Becky, what's going on?" "Sit down," she said, indicating the other chair. I sat. Still naked. Becky was dressed in an outfit like what Jill had been wearing. "They told me I could come take care of you," she said, smiling. *When*, I wondered silently, but I didn't ask. I felt a little funny sitting there naked, but on this island I was certainly getting so I forgot about it once in a while, and Becky had seen me anyway, lots of times. "They flew me here after you left." It felt really good, all of the sudden, to have Becky here. "Did you meet them?" I asked. "Oh, no." "This place is strange!" "You should have expected that." "It'll be so much easier with you here, Becky! I'll definitely retire. You'll stay with me, in Paris, won't you?" "You're not going to Paris." I stared at her. What did she mean by that? What did she know? "What do you mean?" "You'll be *here*." My heart was in my throat. They were going to throw away the two- hundred million dollars! "They're reneging," I said, hoarsely. "No." "What do you mean?" "They'll send you back to the mainland. You'll *want* to come back here." I sat there, thinking. I was going to *like* this so much that I'd want to come back? Finally she continued: "You'll give them back their money, just so they'll take you back." "That's silly!" "They've got plans. They're going to... *teach* you to enjoy the island." *Teach* me? Are they going to brainwash me? "But... how do you know this?" "They... they've *shown* me." I sat there, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Then the door from the bathroom opened and Jill came out, dressed in her gray dress. She came over to me and took my arm, pulling me to standing. Becky just watched, seeming to know what was going on. I recalled the ting of a little bell sounding right before Jill came in. "Turn around," Jill said, and she handcuffed my wrists behind me, again. "What's going on?" I asked. "Sh" she replied. She led me out the door. We went down halls, and finally into a comfortable-looking room--like someone's living room, but much larger. She shut the door. Then she undid my handcuffs and did them again in front of me. Then she lowered a cord from a pulley on the ceiling and attached my handcuffs to it. She drew the cord until my arms were extended over my head and tied it to a hook attached to the wall. It looked like one of these tying posts on a boat or dock. Then she produced a blindfold and put it on me. "Jill, what's going to happen to me?" "You *have* to keep quiet," she replied, her voice low. I didn't press it, but I was nervous. Somehow I hadn't quite imagined no one telling me what was coming next. After that, the room was still. I waited. Finally, I heard a door open. And footsteps on the carpet. They went around the room, this way and that for a while. I heard movement and breathing. Then my blindfold was taken off. In front of me was a woman--she was tall and had brown hair pinned up and was older. Her face had a few tiny lines, but was beautifully formed. She was dressed in a conservative suit and I could tell it was the best. And she wore a hat! And she wore it well--she looked like someone from the '30s or '40s. She didn't smile. Then I saw Jill, across the room behind the woman. Jill was naked, and bound and gagged and blindfolded! I couldn't imagine anyone tied so tight--her wrists and ankles were all tied bond together behind her and she was laying on her stomach. She looked very uncomfortable. I was scared. I didn't know what to expect. The woman reached up and touched my lips, running her finger softly over them. Then she smiled at me--actually, a very friendly-looking smile. "You *are* very pretty, my Michelle," she said. "No, don't talk," she continued when I almost said something in answer. She reached her hand behind my head and pulled on it, and kissed me. It was a very sweet kiss, and she didn't stop. But it became more and more insistent, and soon I felt like she was invading my mouth. I felt so helpless. Then she touched me, my vagina. Her fingers danced up and down touching me lightly, then slowed down and holding me more firmly. I was very wet. She slipped a finger inside me, never stopping her kiss. I almost came immediately. I'd never had sex with a woman in my life, and believe me, I didn't know what to think. In seconds, I was so ready to come I thought I would die. But she slowed down and pulled her finger out and it was like she started all over. And she did this, again and again and I was going crazy. She broke off the kiss, still fingering me. I opened my eyes. She was looking at me, smiling. Her fingers were driving me mad. "What do you want?" she asked. I didn't say anything--I was out of breath. "Tell me what you want," she finally said. "To come!" I managed to get out, between breaths. "Do you want me to make you come?" "Yes!" "Do you want it badly?" "Yes!" "Ask me!" She pushed in when she said that and I nearly went crazy. But she was back out, and teasing me again. "Ask me now!" All I could do was groan. Then I managed: "Would you make me come?" "Say 'Please make me come.'" "Please make me come!" She smiled again, in response. "Good. Say 'please'." "Please!" "Again." She was grinning. "Please!" "I *like* it when you say 'please'." When she said "like", she pushed her finger in me again and I thought I'd die right there. "Please! Please let me come, please, please!" Then she was kissing me again. Fingers pushed into me. I needed to breath and I couldn't. Her arm went around my waist and our bodies were pressed together. I came--I came and came so hard. When I finally got a hold on myself again, she wasn't touching me anymore and I was blindfolded again. I heard hard breathing, then the sound of someone coming. And groans and screams. Then I heard her walk out of the door. I continued to hear breathing, then footsteps. My blindfold came off and there was Jill, in front of me, naked. Then she turned and walked away. I noticed something on the floor-- something attached to a cord that was plugged into the wall. It was right where Jill had been before. She picked it up and brought it over. "I'm *required* to do this," she said. I couldn't tell what it was, but she pressed a switch and pressed it against my vagina. It was a vibrator of some sort, and a powerful one! In seconds I was out of my mind, bucking as I hung from the rope. Jill didn't say anything or even look at my face, but just pressed it against me, her hand on my rear to increase the pressure. I was coming again, not believing how soon it was happening after the earlier time. She kept holding it there, and it seemed like I was going to come forever, but when I finally exhausted myself, she took it away and put it aside. Then she came back. "We can talk now," she said. "She was one of them, wasn't she?" I finally ventured. "No. Her husband was one of the men you met earlier." I mulled over that. Then Jill went on: "She *likes* to be the first to try out the girls. She's *much* gentler than the others--you should be glad." "Gentler?" "The others have some, well, *interesting* things that they make us do. But she comes to *visit* us more than the owners do--she's probably with another girl right now. She'll see you again tomorrow morning." "This place is *nothing* like I imagined it would be." Jill laughed, but there was no mirth in it. "Listen--I have some advice for you: watch out for Becky." "Becky?" I asked, confused. "Yes, watch out for her. You don't know her." "I've known her for years! She's my personal assistant!" "Yes, but I remember, uh..." She paused. "Yes?" I asked, trying to get her to go on. I was confused by all this. "Nothing. Just *please* watch out for her. Be *very* careful! You *don't* know her and what she's done to you. I... I *like* you--I always wanted to be like you." She'd started sounding like a fan. I didn't respond right away; I just tried to figure out what she could be talking about. As we talked, she'd untied me and transferred my handcuffs so my hands were cuffed behind me again. Finally I brought up something I was curious about: "Why are *you* here?" "I love it here." "You do?" "I couldn't live anywhere else. Becky explained to you that they get you to like it, didn't she?" "Yes." I paused for a second. "She said they'd send me back. I guess so they can get their money back." "Oh no--they can have it any time they wish." "But Mr. Prescott..." "*Prescott*? He's one of *them*!" My heart jumped in my throat! "He doesn't work for the bank?" "He *owns* the bank!" I paused, trying to figure it out. "You saw him earlier this evening! He's, uh, one of your employers." I stared at her. "Then why are they sending me back?" "Believe it or not, because they are honest." "But..." "They're going to follow through on every part of the deal. It'll be your *own* choice to come back. That's part of how they lure you back: you'll find that you can trust them." I paused. I thought of Mr. Prescott looking at me earlier this evening. But then I brought up something that was bothering me: "How do they get you to like it?" "It?" "Here." "Oh...they... they *do things*. Listen, it isn't hard for them. They're already making headway on you." "What?" "You're already beginning to like the place." "You're crazy!" "You don't realize it yet--or you won't admit it--well, never mind." She told me we had to be quiet in the halls and took me out again. She was still naked and so was I, but I was the one wearing handcuffs. We reached the bedroom and there was Becky, still sitting at the table. She looked up and greeted me and Jill removed my handcuffs and then went into the bathroom. I don't know what she did in there for all that time, though it was a rather big, sumptuous room. "Are you OK?" asked Becky. "Yes," I said. I glanced at her a couple of times, thinking about what Jill had said. Jill had seemed so open and, well, honest. "What's wrong?" asked Becky. She seemed to be searching my face. "Nothing," I answered, nonchalantly. "Something's bothering you," she went on. "Did Jill say something to upset you?" She was oddly put out. I began to wonder. "She *did*, didn't she?" she finally continued. "Just a moment," she added, standing up and walking to the bathroom. She walked out again with Jill, who was naked and had her hands cuffed behind er. Jill glanced at me once. She looked very frightened. They walked out the front door. "I'll be right back," said Becky. The door shut and they were gone. I went and tried the door. Locked. She was back in a few minutes. I never saw Jill after that except a week later when I witnessed her receive what could only be described as a serious whipping. But at the moment, I looked at Becky. And wondered. "It's time for bed," she finally volunteered, and I realized though I hadn't seen a window or clock for quite a while, she must be right. She went into the bathroom, and emerged a few minutes later in a nightgown. It was long and a opaque though I could see the outline of her nipples against the front. She looked up and smiled at me. It was the same old Becky--I could tell. I went in the bathroom and prepared for bed. In the bathroom, there were cabinets and a dressing area, but the cabinets were all locked and there were no clothes of any kind I could see or find at all. I came out again, still naked. Becky was in the bed, under the covers. It was a king-size and there was no other bed in the room. She patted the other side of the bed. The lights were low. I lay down and slipped under the cover. She turned a switch and the entire room was black. "You're all right, aren't you?" she asked from the other side of the bed. "Yes," I answered, though uncertainly. "Good! Don't worry--Becky will take care of you."