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Subject: {ASSM} "Cell Phone slave" (1/14) {Mdom/F, Exhib, Humil}
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<1st attachment, "Cell Phone Slave 01.doc" begin>

This erotic first part of a 14 part series was written by me,
Shon Richards.  Please do not reprint on your website, blog, love
letters to your lover etc without asking me first.  I have yet to
refuse a reprint but let's just be polite about it, okay?

You can write to me at shonrichards@yahoo.com.  I am easily
approachable and delighted to hear your comments.

Find out what I am up to at http://erotiterrorist.blogspot.com/ 
  
"Cell Phone Slave"
By Shon Richards



	Amaya saw the package in her mailbox and fought to rein in her
hopes.  More than likely it was for her roommate, Helen.  She
pulled the package out of their tiny dorm mailbox and looked at
the address.  It was for her!  Amaya searched the package for a
return address but there wasn't one.  The young college student
checked the mailbox for any other mail, especially for her
financial aid check that was a month late.  There wasn't any.  

	She didn't open the package in the lobby although she was
tempted.  Amaya liked surprises and after a harsh three weeks of
college, she was going to savor this one.  When she was a little
girl all she wanted for her eight birthday was the Barbie Dream
House.  A month before her birthday Amaya was looking through her
mother's closet for a pair of heels to play with.  Barely hidden
under a coat was the Barbie Dream House.  Amaya was excited at
first and she never told her mom that she knew what she was
getting for her birthday but as the days dragged on, she found
herself a little bored with her upcoming birthday.  Knowing what
she was getting had taken the fun out of the discovery and it was
something she had never forgotten.  The package could wait till
she was in her room.

	Amaya climbed the stairs of the co-ed dorm to her room.  Her
stomach growled.  It did that every day now.  Amaya's parents
were firm believers in letting their oldest daughter provide for
herself.  Her father was a marine and her mother was a Japanese
native who never attended any sort of higher education.  Both
parents just assumed that a scholarship would pay for everything
and that if Amaya needed anything else, she could get a job. 
They didn't care that her financial aid was caught in some sort
of bureaucratic limbo that none of the financial aid office
people could explain.  Neither parent could also understand that
in a college town, the only job really available to a girl just
out of high school was that of a waitress and even then, no one
was willing to hire a half-Japanese girl with glasses when they
could have a busty blonde co-ed.  Her small amount of cash had
evaporated quickly after buying her books and paying her lab
fees.  For the past two weeks she had been reduced to eating
crackers and peanut butter for breakfast and dinner.  Amaya's
parents kept telling her to "buck up" as if those magic words
could solve anything.

	Maybe the package was from her parents.  Amaya wondered if they
had finally taken pity on her and sent her a box of food or
something.  It would be just like them to send her food instead
of money.  The dorm room she had didn't have a stove or even a
microwave so Amaya worried that they might have sent her
something she couldn't even use.  The package was kind of small,
so Amaya was hopeful that it couldn't contain food.  Perhaps her
parents had sent her money in a box because they didn't trust
stuffing envelopes with money?

	Or maybe the package was from her boyfriend, John.  Amaya bit
her lip as she thought of him.  He was her first boyfriend, her
first kiss, her first sexual partner and lately her first
heartbreaking disappointment.  Cuddling on the floor of his
parent's garage, John always swore he would look out for her.  It
must have been the sex talking because while she attended a
college in state, he applied for one in Georgia.  John swore they
would meet again in the summer and Amaya tried to take his word
for it.  So far he had never written and called only once.  She
had written him last week asking, no, begging him to send her
some money that she would pay back when she got her financial
aid, but he had yet to respond.  Maybe this package was his way
of proving he still did care.

	Helen wasn't in their room, which delighted Amaya.  She sat down
on her bed and held the package in her lap.  She made three
wishes.  One, she wished there was money inside.  Two, she wished
for something sweet to eat that didn't involve peanut butter. 
Three, she wished it was from John.  Amaya took a deep breath and
opened her package.

	The package was stuffed with a lot of filler paper but buried
deep within was a cellular phone and an envelope.  Amaya's face
broke into a grin.  It had to be from John!  He sent her a phone
so she wouldn't be so alone!  

	Amaya opened the envelope and squealed.  There were five
twenty-dollar bills!  She could eat out tonight and buy some real
groceries.  The young woman was feeling giddy with delight.  She
checked the envelope for a letter and found a small piece of
paper.  All that was written was "Press redial."

	The cell phone was a top of the line model.  It had a small
display screen and a tiny keyboard.  Amaya was amazed by how
compact the phone was.  It could fit easily in a pants pocket. 
As much as she wanted to believe that it was from John, she had
to admit that he couldn't afford a gift like this.  It was also
too expensive to be a gift from her parents.

	Amaya smiled.  This was exciting.  She had a mystery gift with
an equally mysterious instruction for her press redial.  It was
about time something interesting happened to her at school.

	She pressed redial.  It rang twice.  Each ring made Amaya's
heart race.  The tension was a nice distraction from her growling
stomach. 

	"Hello, Amaya" a male voice said.  

	Amaya didn't recognize it.  "Hello, who is this, please?"

	"You can call me Wesley," the voice said.  He was very relaxed
with a trace of a southern accent.  "Congratulations on taking
the first step.  I'm sure that hundred dollars will come in
handy.  Where do you plan to eat first?"

	"I'm sorry," Amaya said.  "But who are you?  And why did you
give me so much money?"

	He laughed.  "You think that is a lot of money?  It is just a
small bit of what you can earn.  I am something of a gambler,
Amaya.  Someone in your financial aid department made me aware of
the delays you have had and knew I could help.  I've helped out
students in the past with my little games and I am willing to
help you."

	"This sounds like a proposition," Amaya said bluntly.  She knew
she should hang up now but she worried about the hundred dollars
she had in her hand.  Would she have to give it back?  Could they
make her give it back?

	"Oh don't call it that," Wesley said.  "I don't believe in
prostitution or being a sugar-daddy.  I like to gamble on human
nature.  I will request a series of dares and you may quit at any
time.  If you quit I will never contact you again.  On the other
hand, play my game, and the reward will increase by a hundred
dollars with each dare."

	Amaya swallowed hard.  That was a lot of money.  On the other
hand, it felt a bit too surreal.  She looked back down at the
money and realized that it was real enough for her.  

	"What kind of dares do you have in mind?" Amaya asked.  This was
the important question.  She had a bad feeling it might involve
eating something gross or jumping off of buildings.

	"That's the spirit," Wesley said.  "I've been reviewing your
file and I think we'll have quite a lot of fun together.  I see
that you used to be on the Tennis team in your junior year but
you didn't join your senior year.  That's a shame.  Tennis
players are not only fit but also quite quick on their feet. 
They make excellent players.  Why did you not join your senior
year?"

	Amaya tried to think of a lie.  She was too embarrassed to tell
him that she found sex with John to be ten times better than
running around chasing a bouncing ball.  Part of her wanted to
tell him in hopes of shocking the mysterious voice but she
refrained.

	"I just wanted more time for my social life," she said.  "Are
these games going to be time-consuming?  I do have a heavy class
load this year."

	Wesley chuckled.  "I noticed.  No, the games won't take long at
all.  At any time of the day or night, I will call you via this
cell phone.  If you don't answer, then the game is over and you
will never be contacted again.  Once you answer, you are mine for
an hour.  I may give you a command or I might guide you through a
series of commands.  Fail to complete a task before the hour is
up, or flat out right refuse, and the game is over.  Play to my
satisfaction, and you'll receive another cash award.  That's the
entire game right there.  Any questions?"

	"One question," Amaya said.  "Are any of these dares going to be
illegal?"

	"Never," Wesley said.  "I prefer to keep my players, not see
them go to jail.  Where is the fun in that?"

	"Okay," Amaya said.  She couldn't believe she was agreeing but
it seemed risk-free.  She might as well give it a try.  "Are we
playing now?"

	"I like your attitude," Wesley said.  "I'm looking at my watch
and I'm saying it does start right now.  My first game is simple.
 Dump your backpack out.  You're going to need all the space you
can.  I want you to take all of your underwear out of your
dresser, panties and bras, and stuff them into the bag."

	Amaya laughed.  "You're out of your mind."

	"Two hundred dollars say you don't care," Wesley said.  

	"What do you want with my underwear?  And what am I going to
wear?" 

	"That's not my concern," Wesley said.  "I would hurry if I were
you.  There's more to this game and time is a wasting."

	Amaya thought about it.  All the bras and panties she owned were
kind of old anyway.  They was two black panties that John had
bought her that she was fond of but other than that, most of them
were plain and white.  She never could work up the nerve to buy
sexy underwear while living with her parents.  Amaya also felt
amused that some wealthy guy would want them.  It seemed perverse
but also harmless.

	She emptied her backpack and went to work stuffing it.  She
hated to get rid of her bras.  Her generous bust would be a
problem without a bra but with a total of three hundred dollars,
she could buy herself a few to hold her over.  Amaya debated
holding on to the black panties because they were a gift but she
put them in the bag too.  The guilt of cheating was stronger than
she would have thought.  For some reason, she wanted to earn
Wesley's money fairly.

	"I'm all packed," she said.

	"Good, have your running shoes on?"

	"Yes," Amaya said.  "Why?"

	"Because you'll need to get to the White dorm as fast as
possible," Wesley said.  "Once you are there, hit speed dial '1'
and I'll tell you where to go next.  Hurry Amaya, I'd hate to see
you lose so soon."

	He hung up.  Amaya's heart sank.  The White building was in the
middle of the campus.  It had been a year since she did a run of
that length.  

	Amaya ran down the stairs and nearly knocked down two giggling
blondes.  One of them said something rude but Amaya ignored them.
 Her heart was already hammering inside her chest.

	She ran out of the dorm and down the long hill that her dorm was
situated on.  Amaya's glasses slipped down her nose and she kept
pushing them up.  It had been a long time since she was on the
Tennis team.  She didn't know where her sports glasses were
anymore.  Amaya made a note to herself to find them soon.  There
was no telling how often Wesley would send her on a run.

	The White building seemed like miles away.  Amaya's lungs burned
and her brown hair was bouncing around her shoulders.  She was
glad she was wearing jeans today because she knew she would never
run this fast or freely in a skirt.  The backpack was light on
her back but the contents weighed on her mind.  Amaya kept
envisioning the zipper coming undone and sending her underwear
flying everywhere.

Amaya shouldered past people and nearly collided with a cute
black guy.  She gave a quick apology and kept running.  Sweat was
forming on her skin, forcing her to constantly push her glasses
up which only helped blind her to the people she nearly ran over.
 The young lady had to laugh.  She had spent the last few weeks
shy and trying not to stand out but here she was making a
spectacle of herself for half the campus.  She found it a bit
freeing.

She reached the White building breathless.  Amaya didn't know if
she was supposed to be inside or on the lobby so she brought out
the phone out of her pocket.  

He answered on the first ring.  "Are you there?"

"I'm outside," she said.  "You didn't say inside or not."

"True," Wesley said.  "Are you wearing a bra?"

"Yes," Amaya said.  She bit her lip.  Was this a trick?  Was she
going to lose after running out here just because she didn't put
the bra she was wearing in the backpack?  Amaya had a bad
suspicion that she was the butt of a joke.

"Good," Wesley said.  "Remove your bra and put it in the
backpack.  When you are done, tell me and I will tell you the
next step in your race."

"Right here?" Amaya said.  A crowd of boys walked past her and
she blushed.  The young woman turned and faced the brick wall of
the White building.

"If you are willing to waste time looking for a bathroom, go
right ahead," Wesley said.

He had a point.  Amaya thought about it and realized that if this
dorm were like hers, then it would need a key just to get past
the lobby.  She looked around and didn't see a building that she
recognized.

Fuck.

Amaya held the phone in the crick of her neck and went to work. 
First, she set down her backpack and took a deep breath.  She
hadn't done this since that bus trip in the 11th grade.  Amaya
turned around so her back was to a wall and reached behind her. 
She unclasped her bra as fast as she could.  A girl walked by and
gave her a funny look.  Amaya smiled back at her and looked away.
 She then reached up the sleeves of her shirt and pulled her
shoulder straps down.  Two guys walked by and gave her a knowing
smile that made her blush.  Amaya turned around and faced the
wall as she pulled her bra through the sleeve of her shirt.  Head
down and her body shielding the backpack, Amaya stuffed the bra
into her bag.

"I did it," Amaya reported.

"Good for you," Wesley said.  There was an enthusiasm in his
voice that reminded her of her Tennis coach.  "Now head to
Student Center.  You should have gone there for orientation."

 "I know where it is," Amaya groaned.  It was on the far side of
the campus from where she was.

"The clock is running," Wesley said.

Amaya hung up and started to run.  She realized immediately that
running braless was going to be a problem.  Her busty chest was
bouncing like mad beneath her shirt.  Amaya used to be proud of
her chest because her American father's genes had gifted her with
a nice set in comparison to her mom's flat chest.  Now she was
painfully shy of how much she jiggled as she ran.  Every guy she
passed did a double take and she got more than a few dirty looks
from the women she passed.  

There was no denying she was out of shape.  The lack of food
lately didn't help but Amaya knew that it wasn't completely to
blame.  Her lungs burned almost as badly as her calves and
thighs.  Amaya remembered how much pride she used to take in her
endurance and health.  As an Asian American, she had taken a lot
of jokes about being a 'Tennis Ninja' but she knew that was an
admittance to her physical ability.  Gasping for air on a simple
run was proof of how far she had fallen from her former
standards. 

Amaya slowed down as she reached the Student Center.  She bent
over and took some deep breaths.  The sight that greeted her
stunned her.  She had been sweating so much, her nipples were as
plain as day through her white t-shirt!  Amaya had been running
with a nearly transparent shirt!

She crossed her arms over her ample chest and called Wesley.

"I'm here," she said.  God, her breathing sounded so loud on the
phone.  Amaya realized she was doing the stereotypical dirty
phone call voice.

"Not bad," Wesley said.  "You are making good time.  Are you
wearing panties?"

"Yes," Amaya said.  She knew what was coming.  

"Then head toward the bathroom and remove them," Wesley said. 
"Put them in your bag and call me back for your next
destination."

He hung up and Amaya slipped the phone back in her jeans.  She
was mad that she hadn't seen it coming.  Her body had hurt too
much and the embarrassment of running braless had distracted her.
 Amaya didn't hesitate.  She headed straight for the woman's
restrooms.

	There were three stalls in the bathroom and all of them were
filled.  Amaya groaned.  Of course they were.  It was the
afternoon and the Student Center was packed.  Time was running
out and she was getting exhausted.  Could she afford to wait for
someone to come out?  If the next destination was all the way
across campus again, she would need as much time as possible to
make it there with her body.

	Amaya kicked off her shoes and unzipped her jeans.  She kept her
eye on the door and pulled her pants off.  Her white panties were
soaked with sweat and Amaya wondered if this was the whole point
of today's game.  Did he just want some sweaty panties?  Amaya
stopped worrying about it and pulled off her panties.  She
stuffed them in her backpack and zipped it back up.
	
	A toilet flushed.

	Amaya fumbled with her jeans.  Her eyes snapped between the
restroom door and the doors to the stalls.  She had no idea how
soon someone would come out of the stalls and she didn't want to
be pantless when they did.  Amaya pulled her jeans on as fast as
she could but she wasn't fast enough.  A student came out right
as Amaya was pulling her jeans to her ass.  The woman just stared
at Amaya finished pulling her jeans up and buttoned them.  The
student looked like she was about to ask a question but instead
blushed a bright red.  Before Amaya could think of a lie, the
woman walked briskly out the door.

	"That could not be any more embarrassing," Amaya muttered.  She
put her shoes back on and called Wesley as she tied them.  

	"I did it," she whispered.

	"That was fast," Wesley said.  "And a good thing too, you need
to run to Perry building."

	"Where is that?" Amaya asked.

	"It's by the music arts building, beside the cafeteria there."

	Amaya's eyes widened.  That area was filled with people and as
sweaty as her shirt was, Amaya wasn't sure she could do it.  It
was also another long run.

	"The clock is ticking," Wesley said and he hung up.

	Through the doors and out the Student Center, Amaya ran with all
her heart.  She was cursing as she ran, fully aware of how
visible her breasts were under her shirt.  When someone gave her
a wolf-whistle, Amaya's face turned to a crimson blush that
spread down her neck. 

	Amaya also became aware of the problems of running without
panties.  The denim of her jeans was rubbing her sex as well as
rubbing tightly against her ass.  She felt naked despite her
outer clothes.  Every swing of her legs pushed and pulled the
denim against her.    Amaya's desire was building from the
constant stimulus and she worried that she might wet her pants
with her sex.  It was bad enough that she was jiggling so clearly
but she would die if people could see how much this was turning
her own.

	She reached the Perry building and the place was just as crowded
as she expected.  Amaya slowed down and ignored the stares of the
men she passed.  Her dark nipples were almost entirely visible
against her light shirt.  Worse, they were hard from all the
friction of the shirt.  Amaya herself was getting aroused just
from all the stares.  It was the first time since she attended
college that she felt people were looking at her for her body and
not her Asiatic features.  Amaya had to admit it was a welcome
change.

	She took out the phone and hit the speed dial.  When Wesley
answered on the second ring, she told him she was there.  Amaya
was surprised to hear him ask someone else if she was.  

	"Is someone watching me?" she asked.

	"Of course," Wesley answered.  "A game like this requires a
little observing to keep everyone honest.  According to my
source, you are quite the sight.  I hope you are not too
exhausted."

	"No, of course not," she lied.  Amaya looked around.  She saw
plenty of people looking at her but she couldn't see anyone with
a phone.  Amaya felt very self-conscious.  It made sense.  What
would be the point of making her exhausted and sweaty if he
didn't get a chance to see her?  Amaya knew she should be
outraged but all she could really feel was flattered.  That, and
exhausted.

	 "Are we done?" Amaya said.  She could barely speak she was
gasping so hard.

	"One last trip," Wesley said.  He chuckled when she groaned. 
"Fear not, Amaya.  You are doing amazingly well.  All you need to
go now is back to your dorm and around to the back entrance. 
Good luck."

	Wesley hung up and Amaya snapped her phone shut.  Back to her
dorm?  She was at the furthest possible point away from her dorm
and still is on campus.  Amaya looked at her watch.  She had
twenty minutes to get there and she was worn out.  Tears formed
in her eyes as she realized how impossible that was.  That two
hundred dollars was as good as gone!

	Amaya ran.  No matter how hopeless it was, Amaya couldn't find
it in herself to give up.  Two hundred dollars could easily hold
her over till she got her financial aid but that wasn't the only
reason she ran.  At this point she was angry with herself.  If
she had stayed on the Tennis Team instead of spending the year
fucking John who ran out on her, she would have finished this run
by now.  Amaya felt like she had failed herself and she wasn't
going to let some pervert who wanted her sweaty underwear beat
her.  Amaya ran harder than she had all day long.

	That state of her appearance was beyond indecent now.  Her
shoulder-length brown hair was plastered to her scalp and neck. 
Sweat was pouring so hard from her that she could feel it
trickling between her buttocks.  Her breasts ached from slapping
constantly against her chest and her wet shirt was molding
against her breasts.  The glares of the women she passed were as
embarrassing as the appreciative stares of the men.  Amaya just
prayed she didn't run into any teachers.

	A group of bicyclers cut her off at one point and Amaya nearly
screamed at the delay.  At another point, Amaya's glasses slid
completely off her nose and it was only through a miraculous
catch that she prevented them from hitting the ground.  One group
of women walking in a long wide line stopped Amaya completely
until she literally pushed her way past the chatting girls.  They
yelled abuses at Amaya but she kept running. 

	Somehow, Amaya made it to her dorm.  A block away, she was
reduced to walking but she still had seven minutes left.  Amaya
limped to the dorm and giggled with the elation of winning.  An
older student shook her head at Amaya's clothes but the young
Asian didn't mind.  She was going to win after all!

	She got to the steps and looked around.  Amaya began to wonder
how she going to be paid.  Exhausted but thrilled to have won,
she called Wesley.

	"Congratulations," he said when he answered it.  "Now all you
have to do is set your backpack down and walk straight forward
into the bushes."

	Amaya did as he said, feeling very weird at leaving her
underwear on the steps.  She wondered if it could be traced to
her.  Was it even a crime to leave a backpack of underwear?  It
would certainly be an odd thing to be expelled over.

	She walked forward into the bushes that Wesley had specified. 
Amaya wondered if this was where Wesley was.  An ugly thought
occurred to her.  What if the whole point of the game was to
exhaust her so that he could attack her?  Her heart began to
pound again as she considered it.  If he expected her to be easy,
he was sadly mistaken.  After humiliating herself for an hour,
she would kick his ass if he tried to hurt her now.

	In the bushes was a black backpack.  Amaya was impressed.  It
was much more expensive than anything she could afford.  Amaya
told Wesley about it and he instructed her to open the side
pocket.  There were twenty ten-dollar bills.

	"Yes," Amaya hissed and Wesley laughed.

	"Take the backpack, it's yours," he said.  "Go back inside and
leave your old backpack where it is."

	"Fine," Amaya said.  "Wow, thanks."

	"No problem," Wesley said.  "I would recommend eating at Peking
Garden, its just two blocks down Second Street.  They have a
buffet and after your fast, I imagine you would want to eat as
much as you can."

	"Thanks," Amaya said.  She still couldn't believe she was three
hundred dollars richer.  It was embarrassing how much of a
fortune it seemed.

	"Wait, one question," Amaya said.  "Will all the games be this
hard?"

	Wesley laughed.  "We'll see."

	He hung up.

	Amaya slung the backpack on her shoulder and went into her dorm.
 She still had reservations about leaving her old bag there but
she wasn't about to break the rules now.  The young woman was
feeling a kind of high that she hadn't felt since winning a
tennis match.  It made the ache in her limbs only seem
inconvenient.

	Her unexpected victory today had another effect: it made Amaya
incredibly aroused.  Despite her bad shape, she had still won! 
It was the first really good thing that had happened to her since
starting college and the best thing was, she had earned it all
herself.  She was feeling so turned on and excited, the
adrenaline racing straight to her libido.

	Amaya went to her dorm room and shut the door.  Helen still
wasn't there and Amaya was relieved.  She quickly stripped out of
her wet shirt and put on a much darker shirt.  Her nipples were
aching and Amaya moaned as she felt the dry shirt slid over them.
 She hadn't been this aroused since the last time she had sex
with John.

	When Amaya pulled down her pants, she was amazed at how wet she
was.  She touched herself and shuddered.  Sensitive to the
slightest touch, her pussy felt terribly empty.  Standing in
front of her dresser, Amaya stroked herself once.

	She stroked herself twice and wondered what kind of a man Wesley
was.

	Amaya stroked herself and wondered what he would do with her
sweaty panties and bra.

	Amaya stroked herself and wondered if any of the guys who saw
her today was thinking of her now.

	She had a climax within a minute of stroking.  Amaya cried out
before remembering how thin the walls were.  She bit her lip and
kept stroking.  She had another climax was almost instantly.  

And another.  

And another.

Amaya pulled up her pants and sat down on her bed with the
reddest blush.  She prayed that Helen wouldn't walk in right now.
 The room smelled of sex and sweat and Amaya knew she wouldn't be
able to deny masturbating.  She opened a window and turned on the
fan and hoped the smell would fade.

The backpack caught her eye and she wondered about the trade she
made.  She picked it up to examine it and found a startling
surprise inside.  The backpack was stuffed with bras and panties
of multiple colors.  

Amaya looked in amazement as she pulled out a rainbow of bras. 
The bras were in different sizes, an equal amount that centered
around a C-cup.  About ten of them fit her and Amaya realized
Wesley must have guessed her size.  Amaya felt a guilty pleasure
in finally owning the colored underwear that she had always
wanted as well as the decadent manner in which she earned them. 


She examined the panties next and noticed something right away. 
They were all thongs.  Purple, green, black, blue, pink and
white; they were all thongs.

Amaya tried a green one on and moaned as the tight string slipped
between her buttocks.  The thong was tight and every time she
took a step, the thong pressed against her sex.  Amaya was still
sensitive from her masturbating but in a good way.  She took a
few steps and shivered.  The thongs were hedonistic and were
going to be distracting but Amaya was looking forward to the
adventure.

Her stomach growled and Amaya smiled.  It was time to collect her
real reward.  Amaya wondered if Wesley would be at the restaurant
he recommended.  Perhaps the mystery man was waiting for her.

She decided to find out.

To be continued,

If you enjoyed this story, feel drop to drop me a line at
shonrichards@yahoo.com


	

	

	   
	    

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