My hands started shaking as I read the laser-printed note from inside the box.

"I caught you yesterday at 10:33 pm. The two pictures included here leave no doubt as to who your identity or your actions. They are captures from a 20 minute digital film. We both know the disaster your life would become if anyone else found out. If you do what is instructed, your secret will remain safe."

My heart went to my throat as I pulled the pictures out. They were as damning as the letters said. How could I have been so stupid?! The note continued.

"The package has two boxes, which you have probably opened by now. You're smart, and have probably guessed your task already. Take the recorder and set it up facing you. It doesn't matter where or how it is set up. You will strip naked. You might be wise to conceal obvious birthmarks, or add deceptive makeup. Your head does not have to be in the frame, I suggest avoiding it, but your tits or your ass have to be in view as much as possible. You will record yourself masturbating to orgasm twice with the vibrator. At least one of those times, the entire thing must be inside your cunt as you come. No faking. I'll be able to tell. The dildo has unique markings that identify it as the one sent to you for this purpose."

I looked furtively at the thing resting in the crumpled packaging where I'd dropped it. They were euphemistically called toys, but this one did not look like a plaything. It looked like a real, big, cock. Could I get that thing inside me? I shuddered. The hard, faux-flesh of the shaft had writing along its length - the word MASTER and a series of numbers - printed tattoo-like along the length, repeated around the thick column and on the base, large enough to be visible for some distance from any angle.

"When you are done, follow the camera's instructions, transfer the recording to your computer, and upload it to the IP address printed on the vibrator. If you obey all instructions satisfactorily, you will receive the original recording of your misdeeds. If not, there will be other consequences. You have twelve hours from Midnight, April 12 to comply."

My eyes darted to the clock; 7:33 am. April 13. I had been rushing to catch the train for work when the courier had handed the package to me at my door. I believed the threat far more than the promise of resolution, but my racing mind found no reasonable choices to make. Being late for work was the least of my problems now. Butterflies in my stomach, I slowly stepped back into my apartment and closed the door.