A year later, she gets an assignment: entrap a critic and let her electroshock you
I have, however, written and had published two articles on deviant sexual behavior and the Internet. I failed to mention in my first posting that I have an advanced degree in psychology. Had I finished my dissertation, I would have earned a Ph.D. but my life changed in ways you have already read about. But, even with only a Masters degree, I have been able to get works published. I’m proud of that. I am also proud of the fact that so much of my published material is based on first-hand experience, a credit which most of my colleagues cannot claim. At least not honestly.
Let me tell you how the papers came about.
Sam was very unhappy with the ratings and the comments my account drew on the website. Thankfully, he was not unhappy with me. He was upset with their harshness and the comments that any reader who enjoyed my story was ‘sick’ and needed to be ‘re-evaluated’. While he acknowledged that my treatments have been harsh, he was puzzled why anyone who had seen the tags associated with the post would have read it in the first place.
So, he sought them out.
Now this was a very difficult task but The Doctor has quite a network of connections and was able to backtrack through internet logs and high speed connections and other things I don’t understand and she found that the posts came from three different individuals.
And Sam was going to use me to get his revenge on them.
I was thrilled with the prospect! It meant that I would be let out of my cage in the basement and out in the real world! In sunlight and fresh air! It had been so long, so long, that I had been nothing but a thing in that cage, a body for pain and abuse for them and anyone they wanted to lend me to. I was so excited!
I wondered if they would put me through the tattoo removal again. The thought scared me. The pain was excruciating. Each area had to be done several times and each time was easily as painful as the tattooing. The process took over four months. When it was finished and they let me see myself in a mirror, I cried. I had my own body back! It was amazing and I thanked them and thanked them and thanked them. In the next two weeks, they even let me go out of the house three times, once on my own!
I’m going to tell you that story, even though it is only a sidebar to this chapter. You might find it arousing. I did when I wrote it.
The first time, I was pimped out to my best friend’s husband. He’d been after me since they got married, always standing too close and leering and trying to touch me. He disgusted me and the betrayal of my friend would have destroyed me back before all of this began, but now he was just another cock and she was just another memory. The Doctor had long since delivered photos of me to her when she made her first pass at severing all of my connections to the past. She wrote me twice asking if everything was all right and I wrote back that this was the life I’d chosen. She stopped writing.
That night, Sam had me dress in a short, slutty red dress and drove me to a cheap hotel in a black neighborhood. Stan was already there, drinking a beer on a stool in the hotel bar. He made a big deal of feeling me up in the lobby in front of a couple and two big black men who laughed and high-fived each other.
“Twenty dollars?” he asked Sam, loud enough for the others to hear.
Sam just chucked. “You’re an asshole.” Then, “yeah, twenty dollars.”
Stan peeled off two tens and handed them to Sam.
“Does it cost extra for her to swallow?” he turned to the two men again. “Or if I invite some friends?”
“Yeah,” Sam said in an affected ‘pimp’ voice. “Gimme another ten.” I felt a rush in my cunt. He was selling me to three men for ten dollar each.
“Extra for her to take it up the ass?”
Sam shook his head. “No, all included. In fact, she prefers it that way.” I wanted to touch my cunt and cum right there in front of them but knew Sam would punish me for it.
Stan kept me all night. He got his thirty dollars back from the two men and a friend they invited later that night. Stan left at sunrise but the other three fucked me well into the afternoon. I ended up paying for the room.
The second time was just a shopping errand. I was stunned and horrified by how wonderful it felt to pick up cans and boxes from the shelves and put them in a basket, then pay for them and carry the bags back to the taxi. I was a real person again! No living in the basement waiting for the next session with Sam or The Doctor or who- or what-ever they sent down there for me.
The third time they let me go out alone. I was excited until Sam and The Doctor sat me down to explain what I would be doing that day. It was horrible and signaled another turning point for me. They wrote an address on a slip of paper and put me into a taxi. The taxi dropped me downtown and I followed the directions until I found the place. It was a tattoo parlor. I went in and they showed me a book. I was to be allowed to choose the first of my new set of tattoos. Yes, they’d decided that my body was going to be “decorated” again – everything except my face, neck, and hands. And again, areas of my body would be sold to the highest bidder on the internet, they would choose the words or image to be inscribed on my flesh, and the tattooing would be broadcast live.
I’d cried all the way to the tattoo parlor and through the entire session. I chose a ribbon design with the words PROPERTY OF SAM and had it tattooed across the tender flesh of my mons pubis. Why not? I thought, watching the bearded man through tearful eyes. Maybe it would earn me some good grace from Sam in the future. So far, it hadn’t.
The last patch of skin — a triangular area on my left calf — was sold a few weeks ago for $2,300 to a woman who wanted a drawing of her own vagina on my body. The price seemed high to me until Sam reminded me that this was the last remaining area he could sell. Every inch of me that was going to be tattooed had been.
And now, I was going to be part of Sam’s revenge fantasy on his critics.
Are you intrigued? Do you wonder how they reacted? If they were men or women? Straight or gay? Perverts or prudes? I hope so. Because I intend to report on each of them very thoroughly.
Let me begin by saying that all three are hypocrites. All three of them abused me and enjoyed it. Two women and one man. And all of them – all of them – performed admirably once they thought they were going to remain anonymous. Sorry. You’re not.
The first woman’s name is Lynda F—– [note from webmaster: our policy forbids the posting of the full names of real people]. She is a divorced woman of 42 who lives in D—–, a suburb of Dallas. Five foot eight, slim and athletic, with medium length, dark brown hair, green eyes, and full red lips. She has a 36C chest, 38 inch hips, and a 32 inch waist. Quite a figure and she is proud of it. Sam and I stalked her for three days before I met her and she always dressed in very fashionable, very sexy business outfits – typically a blue or black suit with knee-length skirt and heels. Her blouses are always more open than they should have been and her push-up bra displays her titties prominently. She almost always wears gold earrings, favoring triangles or diamond shapes.
She has dark brown nipples that stand out just under an inch when aroused, she doesn’t shave her pussy bare, just trims it nicely and uses a hand shaver to cut her hair to just about a quarter-inch length. She dabs perfume underneath her titties, at the tops of her thighs, and behind her knees. She loves to have a fingertip inserted in her ass while her cunt is being licked. She does not like having her nipples bit but does enjoy a fingernail scratching up and down her pussy lips while she’s being licked. Does she excite you? I hope so.
She works in an insurance office at a major intersection with just over two dozen men and women, in a six floor building with four other offices, each of which has a similar amount of employees. So, her body is on display for over a hundred people each day. She gets a medium sized no-fat mocha and an almond croissant every morning on her way to her desk.
I hope some of you might recognize her from her description and enjoy the details I’ve revealed about her body next time you see her. Want to know more? Read the rest. Some of you may have even seen the broadcast. More on that later.
She masturbates every morning before going to work, usually watching — are you ready? — lesbian BDSM porn. Her favorite site is W—- P—- where women use violet wands, TENS units, and vibrators to bring each other to seriously intense orgasms.
One of The Doctor’s friends was able to find her ‘secret’ email address by monitoring her wireless connection and hacked through her email until he found the golden nugget: an email between her and another woman over a year ago. They were discussing W—- P—- and about how exciting it would be to try something like that.
Sam had to go back to work after the first week, but he left me in D—–with clear instructions on what I had to accomplish before coming back home to him and The Doctor. I was excited. If I did well, maybe things would change. Maybe they would let me live upstairs, have a meal with them sometimes. I would still be completely obedient – that would never change – but maybe just a little more human.
I set up my trap in a mid-level hotel just a few blocks from her office. I used the email account The Doctor’s hacker friend had given me and sent Lydia an email asking how she’d been. She replied within an hour that she missed me and wondered where I’d gone. I asked if we could chat and she told me she was at work but would love to get back in touch later that night. I reported this back to Sam and The Doctor.
We chatted that night and the following night. I told her I’d thought of her because I was coming to town and would she like to get together? She said ‘yes’ immediately and we agreed we would meet in the hotel lobby.
That night in the hotel, I spent most of the evening in the bathroom throwing up. I know I have been telling the story very casually, very matter of factly, but what I was about to do sickened me. I was not going to tell you this detail, but The Doctor already knows (the rooms were all wired with video cams) and if I do not tell on myself, I can expect to be punished. I can only hope that knowing the full depth of my debasement and self-loathing will turn you on, making it worth your reading.
My assignment was very simple – seduce the woman into abusing me while the cams broadcast it live over the internet. That would discredit her comments and most likely destroy her professional career. And her life. The Doctor’s hacker had got her entire address book and was ready to send stills from the video to everyone in it. She would find herself in the same isolated position I find myself but without my ex-husband Sam and The Doctor to at least provide the room in the basement where they keep me.
For the night, I chose my outfit carefully. I selected fleshtone stockings with swirling design, those would hide the tattoos on my legs. I wore a baggy white blouse, high necked and long sleeved to cover my upper body. I finished off the outfit with a tight, short leather skirt and three inch heels.
When Lydia arrived at seven o’clock, I was already in heat and anxious. I could smell my musk and was embarassed, praying silently that if she smelled it too, she would be polite enough not to comment. I saw her standing at the door looking around and stood up and waved my hand. She froze. I watched her eyes look me up and down.
I was nervous. Her hesitation could mean she was going to back down, that she had really only been interested in a casual friendship with some online flirting. If I couldn’t deliver with this woman, The Doctor would be merciless. My head swum and my stomach twisted as the possibility of failure settled in. I decided I needed to take direct action so I walked directly up to her and took her by the hand.
“Come,” I leaned close and whispered in her ear.
Lydia was puzzled but didn’t resist. She followed me into the elevator. As soon as the door closed, I took her hand and slid it between my legs.
“What the fuck?” she sneered, jerking her hand back. She looked closely at me, searching my face, the area where a single small tattoo ran along the side of my cheek. If she saw it, she might connect it to the story and I would fail completely.
“Is that a tattoo?” she asked. Her voice was a hushed whisper. Conspiratorial or scared? I looked in her eye and saw curiousity, not accusation.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Do you think it’s sexy?” I raised her hand and put the tips of two of her finger in my mouth. As I sucked gently, she leaned closer. I saw her eyes half-close and knew the rest of the night would go well. She didn’t recognize the tattoo or at least wasn’t making the connection.
“Do you want…” I began but the elevator stopped and the door opened. The couple outside stared at us for a second then got into the elevator. I started to push Lydia’s fingers deeper into my mouth but she yanked them back.
”Don’t be shy on our account,” the woman said. All of us laughed nervously. The elevator stopped again. It was our floor. I nodded to the man, leaned forward and gave the woman a light kiss on the cheek. She turned her head and kissed me on the mouth. The man smiled. “Have a nice night,” he said.
As soon as we got to the room, I escalated my attack. I pulled her close and kissed her, unbuttoning her clothing. She started reaching for the buttons of my blouse but I told her, “no, honey, this is all for you. You’ve been such a good friend in our chats…”
She was naked in minutes and on her back on the bed, my mouth between her legs. The cameras tilted slightly and I knew this was being broadcast live. She came quickly from my tongue on her cunt, then I slid my fingers into her and she started getting closer again. I lifted my head.
“Would you like to wire me up?”
She shuddered and pushed my head into her cunt, ground her hips against my face and came again. Then, she pulled my hair hard and jerked my head back. “I want to hurt you bad, bitch,” she growled. “All those emails last year. All the shit you said. That you were coming to visit. That your husband was such a prick. That you needed my love and support. Then you just stopped writing! You JUST FUCKING STOPPED WRITING!” She slapped my face as she yelled and I felt the rush in my cunt. “YOU STUPID FUCKING COW!” She yanked my hair harder, jerking my head back and forth. “Get the fucking wires and get ready to scream. I have to piss.”
She got up and went into the bathroom. I was excited! She’d made it so simple! I had been worried she might see more of the tattoos while I changed but with her in the bathroom, I was safe. I quickly peeled off my clothes and slid into the full-body zentai suit with the electrodes already connected. All she could see were my eyes, visible through a slit in the white fabric hood.
When she came out of the bathroom, she stood with her hands on her hips and I watched her smile get bigger and bigger. “You are a sick fucking freak, aren’t you?” I nodded but I was smiling beneath the hood. There was that word. “Sick”. Just like her.
“The units are all in the top drawer. Connect them wherever and however you like.” I knelt on the bed with my legs open and put my arms behind my back.
“Oh, that’s not good enough. Stand up.”
I did and she went to the telephone. “Bellman? Bring a luggage cart to room 816.” When she hung up, she came and stood in front of me, looking me up and down. “It’s the closest thing they have here to an X or a pillar. I’ve always wanted to try tying someone to one.” She slid her fingers over the shiny fabric, feeling the pads along my abs, thighs, arms and titties. “These are well placed. You’ve done this before.”
“We watch the same movies, remember?” I said, then turned to the closest camera. “It’s fun being watched, isn’t it?”
She was puzzled but said, “yes, it is.” Now, the audience would think she knew she was being broadcast all along. I smiled again, knew that Sam and The Doctor were smiling too.
The bellman knocked on the door and Lydia opened it. I heard him hand the man a few bills then she rolled the cart into the room and stopped it in front of the windows. She secured me to it, arms above my head, legs wide open, using old nylon stockings she had brought in her purse.
“You’re going to need a gag,” she said. She pulled the hood down and stuffed two balled-up nylon stockings into my mouth. “There.” She let it snap back and the edge caught my eye. I blinked several times and felt tears rolling down my cheek. She smiled and did it again. I flinched and she laughed.
After that, it was all pain. She connected every last one of the units to the pads and spent over an hour making me dance and jerk like a marionette. She started with my thighs, watching them with an evil grin as the low-level current made them twitch and jerk. She turned on current across my titties and I moaned. She slid her hand across my cunt and I came quickly. “You came?” I nodded. “You really are a sick fuck,” she said, shaking her head. Then, she turned up the voltage on my thighs until I was jerking and shaking uncontrollably. I felt a trickle of piss between my legs, soaking into the fabric and making the top of my left leg warm. I started begging through the gag then. She laughed and pressed more buttons, activating the pads that ran up and down my belly. I was folding forward and backward, the pain in my wrists and ankles getting worse now as I strained against the stockings. She turned off the thigh current and I felt my legs turn to jelly. She touched me and I came again. “That’s better. That’s a good girl,” she purred, then turned on the current that run up and down my arms. I arched upward, trying to do something, anything, to relieve the pain but it was useless. She turned off all the current and I collapsed, the rest of the flood of piss sloshing out of me and down the insides of my legs.
She took a break and drank a glass of water, standing in the bathroom door just staring at me. I was exhausted already and breathing hard. When she finished the water, she started up again without a word. It was like this on and on for the next two hours.
“Ten o’clock,” she announced loudly. I opened my eyes, realized I must have passed out at some point. She laid the control boxes on the floor and stood up. “Time for me to go, I have to get up for work tomorrow.” She gathered up her clothes and went into the bathroom. I heard the water running and her humming softly to herself. I was so weak I could barely turn my head when I heard the door open again.
“That was fun. I’d love to come back tomorrow and do it to you again. What do you think?” she asked with a laugh, kissing my mouth through the thin fabric. I nodded. She spit in my eye and slapped my face “We’ll see.”
She picked up one of the units and looked at it. She turned it over and opened up the back. “Two double A’s?” I nodded. She slid the door back in place and turned it on. “Well, those can’t last forever, can they? And it’s already been, how long?” she said, looking at her watch. “Well, maybe I don’t have to go just yet…”
I started shaking my head then, I thought she was through. I couldn’t take anymore and we both knew it. I was grunting “please, please” through my gag.
She turned on the entire set of boxes one at a time, until all eight of them were blinking and my body was jerking, pulled and twisted into a hundred different contortions. I felt the sweat running down my face and my muscles starting to spasm as she calmly opened the minibar and took out a can of beer. She pulled the tab and sipped it slowly, standing in front of me, watching me twist and struggle against the nylon bonds.
“You are beautiful like this,” she said in a mocking voice. “Just like the girls in those movies you like so much.” I wanted to yell “YOU WATCH THEM TOO YOU SICK BITCH!” but I couldn’t do more than moan and drool through the gag.
She looked at her watch and then at me. “I guess I can be a little late tomorrow.” I groaned. She was going to let this go on until the batteries died!
Lydia slid an armchair across the floor and sat in front of me, legs crossed, the beer on her knee. “You are so, so hot,” she said, taking another sip of the icy beer. I started at it, saw the beads of sweat running down the side of the can, cool and sweet, not like the sweat that was running into my eyes, blinding me, making me blink. My world was all pain, my belly felt like I’d been in a prizefight, my legs like I’d ridden a bike around the world.
I looked up at the closest camera. Sam had to be seeing this, he couldn’t let it go on like this, he’d do something. He’d send someone. I thought that until just a little after eleven when I passed out again.
The first device died just after eleven-thirty. It was the one connected to my left upper arm. It felt even worse somehow that my right arm was contracting and releasing and my left arm was just hanging, limp and useless, from the cart. At about eleven-forty-five I felt another one stop, one across my belly. By midnight, all of them were dead and I felt the same. Lydia finished her second beer and set the can on the cart between my legs, next to the first one.
“Time to go, sweetie,” she said, standing up and touching my belly with her finger. She kissed me on the cheek and tweaked my left nipple gently.
She picked up her purse and walked quietly out of the room, leaving me there for housekeeping to find the next morning.