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Subject: {ASSM} "Month"  by  deirdre  (FF, MF, D/s, bdsm)  -- rp by H. Jekyll and Please Cain
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Date: Tue, 18 Apr 2006 23:10:03 -0400
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Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Month

by deirdre

FF, MF, D/s, bdsm

*****

NOTE: We are not the authors of this story. "deirdre" was the enigmatic
queen of Usenet sex stories in the mid-1990s. She posted 156 stories in
just over two years, using an anonymous remailer and apparently *never*
corresponding with anyone (though she did give permission to repost her
stories to non-commercial sites). She was last heard from in late April
1996. We will repost all 156 stories, with comments by her, in
alphabetical order, between now and the 10th anniversary of her
"retirement." 

Now that we're in the 10th Anniversary a.s.s.m. "deirdre-fest," enjoy
more of the originals! 

To contact us: h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com, or PleaseCain@aol.com. 

*****

Date: Sat, 8 Apr 1995 12:55:37 UTC

This is a story of a supermodel and a private S&M island a la *East of
Eden*. What more could you want? -- deirdre

Request to alt.sex.stories posters: if your posting does not include a
story, please don't post it to alt.sex.stories. Please post it to
alt.sex.stories.d.

Disclaimer: my stories, like the private sex fantasies of many people,
often depict "breaking some rules". Do not read this story if you
believe fantasy stories should never depict situations undesirable in
real life. Be warned that you may not be comfortable with the sexual
situations. Do not read this story if you are less than 18 years of
age.

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 legitimate."

"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." 


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