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Subject: E-MALED
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"E-MALED"

By

David Shaw <shaw_david@hotmail.com>

(DISCLAIMER: THIS STORY IS INTENDED FOR ADULT READING ONLY)


	My co-blackmailers call me the sniffer. They say it with a lot
of respect because I do them a lot of good turns, just as they do me
some as well. What I am basically is a hacker, though not an
especially skilful one. What makes me the main man is because I work
in a big company with a big intranet to connect everybody's computers
up. What nobody there has ever suspected is that I've got some
specially written packet sniffing software installed in my PC and a
second ethernet card on the network set up in promiscuous mode.

	Promiscuous mode! Ha, I like that - being promiscuous is what
it's all about. That and being very, very careful. The allies would
have rather lost a battle in the war than let the Germans know that
their Enigma codes had been broken. I work on the same principle.

	The trick is the background software which looks at all the
data packages and only pulls out the IP sources and destination
addresses that I supply. And all that I'm interested in are certain
e-mail addresses.

	Like I said, I work in a big building for a big company, and
there are over three hundred people using e-mail every day. Not only
on the intranet, but also out into the internet as well. I've long
since acquired all sorts of details about a certain type of e-mail
user. 

	What sort? The female sort, particularly the ones who been
married for a good long while and who outwardly look to be the most
respectable women around. I download as many of their mesages as I can
find room for on my hard disk. Then, before I go home, I run them all
through a little search program I've written. All it does it seek out
a few key words: "meeting"; "what time"; "when"; "where"; "usual
place"; "after work"; "bar"; "husband"; "wife"; "excuse"; "love you".
Those are just a few of my favourite text recaptures. I also have
quite a few crude words in the program as well.

	Yes, you've surely guessed it. I'm always on the lookout for
those naughty ladies having a bit of fun on the side with gentleman
they are not supposed to be having an intimate relationship with. 

	Now you might think that in this technological age anybody
with enough brains to be allowed to sit behind a computer in an office
would know that e-mail and mobile phones are both about as private
ways of communicating as sending up smoke signals. Well, you might
think that, but in most cases you'd be totally wrong. Men and women
alike seem blissfully unaware of how total insecure telecommunications
are at all levels. Still, I'm not complaining, where would guys like
me be if the world wasn't chock full of fools?

	For a while, back when I was a kid, I thought about being a
priest. The attraction was the idea of being able to go into a
confession box and listen to everybody telling me all their darkest
and dirtiest secrets. I gave up on that idea when I discovered that
priests weren't allowed to have sex, but being an e-mail eavesdropper
is probably even more fun because those gals just let it all hang out.
'When a woman thinks, she must post'. That's what Shakespeare wrote,
or at least it's what he'd write now if he could see what I do.

	Generally I have at least a dozen on-going targets provoking
my interest. But I'm never in any great rush. I want to know something
about each of them, apart from what I routinely hack out of the
personal records files. Basically, I want to know why a woman is
having an extra-marital affair. Is it because she's sick of her
married life or is it because it she's just become so mind numbingly
bored that she has to have a little fling now and then to keep her
self respect?

	It's not that I've got any interest at all in being a marriage
guidance counsellor. What I want are the ones who are vulnerable to
pressure. The women who still value their marriage, just as long as
they can escape from it now and then.

	It's usually pretty easy to get an understanding of where a
target is coming from. The more concerned she is to keep everything
secret, the more she obviously thinks she has to lose. The more self
excuses there are in the posts to her lover the better. A guilty
conscience is pricking her, though probably not as much as he is.
Normally there'll be at least a few posts between her and her husband
as well which give a pretty good indication of the state of the
marriage.

	OK, so by the time I've sorted through the targets' e-mail
files I can generally count on having four or five at any one time
which look pretty good. I mean they look pretty good as far as their
correspondence goes.

	The next thing I want to know is what they look like in real
time. I stay as much as possible in my own little office and socialise
as little as possible with as few people as possible. Thats my nature,
I'm just not very good with people. Nobody worries about it because
I'm a well known nerd. So have to go out and take a quick peek at each
target before I can grade them for their sexiness. But I don't even
bother to look at them unless they come to work in their own cars.

	Almost always they do because the company offices are out of
town and a car is much the most convenient way of commuting to work.
So what goes at the top of the list is a good looking lady driving her
own car and having an affair she really wants to keep a secret.

	What I do next is keep a really close watch on her e-mail to
find out when the next assignation is going to take place. That part
is easy, it's the where which isn't. Sometimes a place will be
mentioned, a bar or an hotel, but more often than not its just 'your
place', or the 'usual place'.

	Once upon a time the only way to solve that part of the puzzle
would have been to put on a trench coat and a trilby hat and trail the
beauty to her den of vice. What I do nowadays is to pull her auto
licence number off the company's personal records. Then, on the
morning of the day the meeting is due, I stop by the vehicle in the
company car park and slip a small magnetic box under the fender.
Inside is a GPS receiver and a data collection chip. The next day I
collect the GPS, download it and plot the co-ordinates on the local
map. It takes me about two minutes to determine exactly where the car
was parked at the time of the rendezvous. Then I put a fresh roll of
film in my camera and wait for the next time the happy couple arrange
a date

	When I first started thinking about all this I had some pretty
wild ideas of stalking each target and photographing them kissing
their boyfriends wildly on the doorstep. Real private eye work, hey,
and maybe putting bugging devices on the apartment windows and all
that stuff. But why bother? You go to the area, find the auto and then
take a photograph of it, a long shot with some other cars in the
scene.Then you go away for half an hour, come back and find some of
the other cars have left and other ones have arrived. So you take
another shot, and maybe another one when the target's getting in her
car and leaving.

	If it's parked out in the street, some sunshine is handy, so
the shadows show the passage of time. Maybe it starts out sunny and
then starts raining. Again, the shots prove where her car has been
parked, and that it was parked there for some time. And I'll usually
go through the same procedure two or three times with each target
before I've got the dossier I want. The place, how often she's been
there, the time she spent there on each visit, and the photos of the
car in identifiable surroundings and obviously parked up there a lot
of times.

	To round things off though it's nice to know exactly who it is
she's seeing. Which is where my little gang comes in. As soon as I've
got that first GPS download and I know the time she'll be back again I
have one of guys watching the area. If her car arrives when and where
it should do he's right on her case and tags along behind close enough
to see where she goes to. 

	It wouldn't do for me to try that, naturally. I might be
spotted, though it's very unlikely. So, once I've got the dossier
together, I send it to the lady in question, with the photos and the
address she's been visiting, and suggest we have a talk about things. 

	Of course I send it by snail mail. The last thing I want to do
is to have any of these morons realise that they were betrayed by
their own e-mail. All they're told in the letter is that they were
seen leaving their car in an areas where they don't live and the
person who spotted them was curious enough to find out what was going
down. As a concerned citizen he's wondering whether he should pass on
all this information to her husband. Having looked through the
dossier, maybe she'd like to meet him and discuss what happens next.

	So what does happen next? Here's a woman who knows she's in
deep shit, who knows her secret is already known to somebody who knows
her, and she doesn't have much choice but to go to the meeting she's
been told to. I usually arrange it at a McDonalds, which is a tad
reassuring for her. After all, nothing dramatic could ever happen at a
McDonalds.

	So when she gets there she's met by my friend Gary. Gary is a
big, good looking guy who comes on like a car salesman. Whenever I see
him I remember Sir Charles Laughton's rueful words to Cary Grant: "It
must be a wonderful thing to look like you."

	So Gary greets Sue, sits her down, starts the talking whilst
she's still trying to figure out what's going on. Sure, he says, he
knows about what she's been doing because he was told by somebody who
works at her company. The same guy who spotted her sliding off for a
little taste of fun on the side and wrote her to come in today.
Whoever it was told Gary as a favor and now Gary wants to do a deal
with her.

	Of course this throws the target. She thought she was going to
meet somebody she knew, not a total stranger. She certainly didn't
expect anybody like Gary. So what sort of a deal is he talking about
and what's in it for him?

	What sort of deal? Gary laughs and just then another of his
friends joins him at the table, another good looking guy. Well, says
Gary, this has happened before. The deep throat at her workplace has
already put the finger on another lady that was having a fling on the
side. And since she was was sinning already everybody figured a little
extra sin wouldn't make much difference. Even she decided that way
eventually. Does the name Maria Vincetti sound familiar?

	OK, let me tell you about an actual example that happened a
week ago. I'm in the hamburger restaurant as well but way back, almost
out of sight, and the woman who's just walked in looking very nervous
is called Sue Sontag. Now this Sue is one I've been tracking for a
long time, a thirty something year old blue eyed blonde with an
excellent set of bouncers and a pair of legs that look as if they
belong underneath a Wimbledon champion, all curves and muscles. On the
few times I've actually set eyes on her she's looked as as innocent of
sin as a Sunday school teacher, let alone the respectable married
woman that she's supposed to be. Yet I know she's having a steaming
hot affair with a guy over on the other side of town, nipping over at
least twice a week to top up her tank with some high octane gas after
years of getting by on regularly unleaded. And I didn't say that, she
said it herself in her own e-mail to her boyfriend.

	But now she's worried, really worried, because it looks as if
the nice tidy pattern of her life is going to become really
unravelled. Shame and scandal and never able to show her face again on
the PTA moral standards committee. She's staring at Gary and Ed, and
she hasn't got the slightest interest in the glasses wearing geek
taking an occasional peek over a computer magazine at the other end of
the restaurant. Hell, I could lay my anorak over a puddle for her to
step on and she wouldn't remember me from work.

	Still, we've got to the interesting bit now. Does she know Mrs
Vincetti? I know that's the point in the spiel Gary has reached and I
can see that Sue is nodding.... sure, she knows Senior Office Manager
Vincetti. Everybody at the company is afraid of the bossy bitch. Gary
grins and lays down the instant print as if he was Wild Bill playing
an ace in Dodge City.

	I see Sue's face suddenly tighten in surprise as she looks at
it. Ms Vincetti, on her hands and knees in a darkened room with a
flashlight shining on her from a few feet away. Ms Vincetti, as ever
is, wearing nothing but a silk scarf tied around her wrists, with her
large tits getting a double handed mauling from either side. Apart
from the udder pullers another athletic male body also looms against
her from out of the shadows, thrusting forward as he takes her from
behind. The manager's hair is a mess, her mouth is hanging open and
despite her executive position she looks as if she's getting quite a
thrill out of her present position.

	Which, incidentally, is quite true. When she got the treatment
she went into convulsions at the first touch. By the time her saddle
had been filled and emptied four or five times she was virtually off
the planet. But that was then, this is now. Ms Sontag has taken five
seconds checking out the scene on the print and another five seconds
looking up at the guys and already she knows exactly what's in the
deal for Gary and Ed - she is. She can also see at a glance that
they're serious, they've pulled this blackmail stunt before and
they've obviously been successful with it. Astonishingly successful,
to get a  strong willed bitch like Maria Vincetti to go along with
them.

	So while Sue is still staring at them with bulging eyes, Gary
is quietly and conscisely explaining exactly where things stand. If
Sue wants her husband left in happy ignorance then she's going to have
to put out like Laura Vincetti has done - but nobody is telling any
stories in the offices about Ms Vincetti, are they? And the reason for
that is because Gary and Ed are very, very discreet. Maria turned up
when she was told told to and did as she was told to, so Mr Vincetti
never got to hear about her original indiscretion and nobody at the
company knows anything about this little faux pas... Gary taps the
photograph again. Nobody that dares talk about it anyway.
	In the seven times we've played this scenario out we've had
one outright refusal, just one woman who threw the picture down and
walked, defying us to do our worse. I promptly sent her a letter
asssuring her she was quite safe and that nobody was going to tell on
her secret. The last thing I wanted was to have her feel she needed
any help from anybody. A month later the same woman saw Gary in the
street and she virtually begged him to start blackmailing her again.
Once she stopped being nervous she was as willing a fuck as any of the
sluts we've ever slung up by their heels.

	Just now though Ms Sontag is still playing at being
embarrassed, blushing and trying to give the photo back to Gary. But
then yet another young guy comes along and joins the group, another
hunk. Gary introduces him as Don. Just as sure as if I was there I
know that Don is asking her if she likes the snapshot of Maria. I see
Sue twitch like a hooked fish. She hasn't been involved in this scene
for five minutes and already there are three guys sitting around her
who all seem to know what's going down and ready to share the action.
Her rather pretty face is looking totally stunned and her bright blue
eyes are now trying to avoid all those male eyes staring at her tits.
Ms Sontag looks to me like a young lady who has suddenly realised that
three into one will go and that she's going to be the one. Or maybe
she's just wondering to herself if the gang's all here yet.

	I see Gary lean forward and put another photograph in front of
her. Another of the girls from the office - it doesn't matter which
one, they're all on the same theme, a spotlight in black surroundings
centered on some intimate hetrosexual activities by a multi-partnered
lady. Sue seems absolutely knocked out now - not so much by what's
going on in the picture as by the revelation that behind the
respectable facade of the company there seems to be all kinds of vice
going on that she never even guessed at. God, but I enjoy all this.
I'm going to have to organise some kind of a meeting place where I can
vidotape the target's faces as they get the good word from Gary and
the gang.

	Gary waits until the first shock has subsided and then points
out to Sue that this girl also has the same scarf binding her hands
together as Ms Vincetti had. She remembers the red dragon on a white
background design? Good - he reaches into his pocket and gives Sue the
very same scarf, draping it across her wrists

	Maybe this is the best bit of all, seeing the shaken
expression on Ms Sontag's previously snooty features as she looks down
at the scarf as if it were a King Cobra that had just fallen on her
out of the air conditioning vent. She's had her guilty little secret
found out by somebody, she still doesn't know who. Now she's sitting
here in a McDonald's being shown photographs of supposedly respectable
female co-workers whoring like harem girls getting their yearly
sheikup. It's also being made clear to Ms Sontag that the guys
responsible for taking these photos now have another little project in
mind. They've picked out another lady to be hog tied and fulsomely
fucked by one and all. And guess who's just gotten her draft notice?

	Sue sits and stares at Gary now, her mouth agape as he
explains the rules. About how she has to go into a completely darkened
apartment. Absolutely and completely pitch black dark except for a
small flashlight somebody will be holding. And as long as that torch
is shining on her every guy in the apartment will be able to whatever
they like with her. She gasps and almost spills her coke. I can feel
my cock pushing up against the underside of the table as I wonder how
long it will take before she realises that she's going to get laid in
the dark so she can't recognise one of the guys fucking her.

	Oh yes, I've had them all. Several times. We organise little
parties every so often when we bring back one of naughty girls to
relive her wicked past. Not too often, just now and then. Of course by
that stage we don't need to worry about threatening them with
revealing their past affairs. All we need to do is to show the
snapshots we've taken since. We still do things the same way though,
carefully using the flashlight so we see everything the woman has but
they never see our faces. Ms Vincetti once called me in for a
conference about some database problems her department was having and
she clearly hadn't the slightest idea that the geek she was ordering
around was the same guy she'd blown off on her knees two days before.
But one day I'll make her do it right on her own office carpet.

	Yet although the targets don't know for sure who fucks them
inside that apartment, each of them has been shown pictures of at
least one or two other women in the company showing off their fannys
by flashlight. They all deny talking to one another about it but I
don't believe that. I'm sure there are some whispered conversations
about it in quiet corners and I'd love to eavesdrop on them. Because
if I could I'd know for sure what I'm certain of anyway - that most of
the girls love going into that apartment, never sure of how many guys
are waiting inside for them or even who they are. They obviously think
that Gary and Grant and Don are always there, but they know there's a
fourth one as well. Probably the guy from work who started the whole
business.... but who is he!

	It must drive each of the bitches crazy sometimes, knowing
that there's somebody in the office who's not only screwing them
whenever he feels like it, but has a pile of porno pictures of the
action. 

	 The question right now, is does Sue want to run the risk of
having all that incriminating evidence sent to her husband? Or will
she agree to end up as another of Gary's gang-bang groupies?

	It's soon clear that she's not getting up and walking. One of
the guys gets another round of cokes and Ms Sonntag is still sitting
with the gang when he comes back, sometimes looking out of the window,
but more often blushing and staring around the nearby tables to make
sure nobody else is hearing what's being said to her. I'll hear it
soon enough though because Gary is wearing a wire and he just loves
teasing each of the girls at this stage of the game. Usually by
showing off two or three pictures of our best performing cocksuckers
and asking if she thinks she's got as good a technique as any of them?

	Ah, ah! Now Sue's stopped looking so embarrassed. She's not
staring out of the window now, not pretending to show some grace under
pressure, but looking at the pictures with real interest and almost on
the verge of giggles as she shows a lot of interest in what some of
the good old girls can do when they try. Especially Senior Manager
Vincetti.   I'm sure the guys are telling Sue about old vacuum mouth
Vincetti and how she could probably swallow a python while it was
still wriggling if she was turned on enough. And they've got the
snapshots to prove it. Ms Sontag stares at the pictures now without
any false embarrasment and doesn't even realise she's twiddling the
scarf between her fingers. Then Gary really gets her attention as he
gives her a piece of paper with the address of the apartment she has
to front up at and the time she has to be there.

	Every time we do this we always get some excuse  about how the
time is inconvenient. 'No problem' is the answer. What's wrong with
now, what's she got scheduled now that can't be fixed with a few phone
calls?

	It doesn't pan out every time, but more often than not it
does. This time it seems to be OK because Ms Sontag is very soon
calling somebody up on her mobile and no doubt telling him she has to
stay back at the office. Probably her husband - I don't think she sees
any need to worry much about her lover. Her physical needs in that
area look as if they're going to be well satisfied in the very near
future. So I'm looking at her talking on the phone, pushing a stray
lock of blonde hair away from her forehead. She seems calm and relaxed
and kind of smiles after she breaks off the call. It seems as if
everything is going to happen now. She just picks up the piece of
paper, looks at the address again and then walks out without taking a
second glance back at Gary and the rest of the studs. I guess she can
be pretty sure they'll overtake her on the way over. Probably at about
a hundred miles an hour.

	Me, I'm looking at those really sexy legs underneath that
tight skirt as I swirl around the last few pieces of almost melted ice
in the bottom of my coke carton. I'm in no hurry, I never drive fast.
I know that the next time I see Sue Sonntag's legs they'll be naked
and stretched wide open and with one of my friends between them
balling her to hell and gone. I'll take over the flashlight at the
other end for a while and see how good her oral technique is after all
the recent practice she's just had. Then I'll screw her myself,
slamming into that set of nerve endings that is all she'll be caring
about by then and grinning to myself because I've broken her code. Her
and all the others who are going to get the same treatment because
they couldn't keep their hands off their keyboards.

THE END
	 

	

	 




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