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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of o
o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o
o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o
o particular order other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to o
o be typed therefore I don’t type things myself." I think it’s o
o a lot more fun to browse around and find 'little' surprises o
o that you might not have even thought of looking for. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors. Kristen o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Hold the Line - Part 2 (phone Sex)
by Anonymous - 1995
**
RING. RING. "Seven o'clock, and all's well!"
"Good evening, Michelle. How was last night?"
"Fantastic! We didn't get much sleep, but . . . hoo, boy!"
"I'm glad. Agnes is there, I assume?"
"Of course, lover."
"Put her on for a second. Agnes?"
"Yes?"
"Have I told you lately how much you love me?"
"Pardon?"
"You're falling in love with me, Agnes. When I ask you to do things, you'll
do them because it's important to you that I be happy, not just because
you're compelled to. Understand?"
"I understand."
"Fine. Now, for the duration of this evening, you're going to want to obey
Michelle, just the same way you want to do what I say. What she says might
as well come directly from me, and it'll be as much fun listening to her as
it is listening to me. All right?"
"Got it."
"Fine. Get Michelle back on the phone."
"Here she is . . . Love you, 'bye."
"Hello again, lover."
"Michelle, do you know a place called the Zanzibar?"
"Yeah, it's a strip bar, isn't it? Downtown?"
"Right. Have you ever worked in a place like that? Or Agnes?"
"No, of course I haven't! Neither has she."
"Can you guess where this is heading?"
"Well, I'd guess . . . you're going to send us down there, or something,
right?"
"Yes, indeedy. You've always wanted to dance topless in front of an
audience, Michelle. The idea really turns you on, standing up there in the
lights with nothing on but a skimpy little bikini bottom, driving all those
guys crazy with your sexy moves. I'll bet you'd be really good at it."
"Yeah, I bet I would."
"I want you and Agnes to go down to the Zanzibar, Michelle, and apply for a
job as dancers, just for tonight. I've spoken to the owner, and he'll take
you on, no questions asked. You'll need those bikinis--take both pieces
with you, so you can take off the top while you're dancing. They don't go
all the way to full nudity at this particular club. You'll each dance
twice, I told the owner, and each time you finish your number, you'll have
a terrific orgasm. When you hang up, tell all of this to Agnes. I've told
her to listen to you."
"All right. Lover . . . are you going to be there?"
"Yes."
"Great!"
"I'm looking forward to it, myself. Are both of you free of commitments
during the day tomorrow? I figured you probably would be, on a Saturday."
"Yeah, we are."
"Good. Come back after you finish dancing, and spend the night together
again . . ."
"Goody!"
". . . and I'll contact you in the morning. I'll see you at the club,
Michelle."
"How will we know you?"
"You won't. I'll see you. Not vice versa, not yet. 'Bye, now."
"'Bye." CLICK.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What can I get you?"
"Oh, just a soft drink, I think. Sprite, if you've got it."
"Coming right up."
"What's your name?"
"Zeke."
"No kidding? Well, tell me, Zeke, do you watch the dancers from behind the
bar?"
"Oh, yeah. It's not much of a job, but at least I get to see some nice tits
and ass every night. There you go, one Sprite."
"This is on the house."
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure . . . on the house."
"Thanks. I hear there are a couple of new women dancing tonight?"
"Now, how would you know that? But yeah, there are. Just walked in off the
street and the boss hired them, just like that. Real knockouts, both of
them. A nigger and a chink."
"Don't ever use either of those words again, Zeke."
"Right. Sorry."
"That's all right, you can't help being an asshole, I guess."
"Uh, yeah . . . There are some other people who want drinks, over there."
"Let them wait. Lean in a little closer to me, Zeke. I'm going to tell you
something, and I want you to believe it, absolutely and without question.
You'll be completely certain that what I'm about to tell you is true. Here
it is: if you ever deliberately insult someone on the basis of their race,
your penis will fall off. Just drop right off your body. Do you believe
that?"
"Yeah, that's what'll happen, all right. Fuck, I'd better be careful."
"That might be best. Don't tell anyone else that you believe that, though.
And one more thing: when these two new women dance tonight, you're not
going to be able to take your eyes off them. You'll get a raging hard-on as
soon as you see them, each time. And when the second one dances for the
second time, you'll have a big, messy orgasm when she finishes her routine.
Understand?"
"Uh-huh . . . Um, that's gonna mess up my pants."
"That's the idea, Zeke. Go serve those other people, now. And then come
back and bring me another Sprite."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
"And now, let's welcome a new arrival at the Zanzibar, here for the very
first time tonight . . . A beautiful young woman named Michelle!"
"Wow. Michelle, you're certainly looking lovely, tonight. And so . . .
coordinated. `You shouldn't mumble to yourself in public,' he mumbled to
himself in public . . . Hey, Zeke? Zeke! Bring me an Orange Crush, would
you?"
"What? Oh, yeah . . . But I can't . . . I'll have to feel around for it,
because . . ."
"Because you can't look away from her, I understand that. Take your time."
"Um, okay, where did I put those things . . . All right, I think I found
it."
"She's pretty good, isn't she?"
"God, yeah. Sexiest I've ever seen, and I been workin' here a long time."
"Try to remember to blink occasionally . . . There, she's done. Ah, and
this must be the fair Agnes. Gorgeous, as advertised. Nice-looking woman,
wouldn't you say, Zeke?"
"Mmm-hmm. Man, she sure is."
"Well, I'm off to sit a bit closer to the stage . . . Enjoy yourself, Zeke.
Especially after the second performance."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
RING. "Hi! Is that you, lover?"
"What? No, it's Carol."
"Oh, sorry, I . . . I thought you were someone else."
"Sorry to disappoint you. Listen, do you know what's up with Agnes lately?"
"What do you mean? I . . . I saw her yesterday, at, um, rehearsal, just
like usual."
"It's just that she hasn't come back to the apartment for a couple of
nights, and usually she mentions something to me . . . I mean, I'm just her
roommate, not her mother, but . . . She didn't stay over at your place, did
she?"
"Ah, no, she didn't."
"Huh. Well, she's probably got some hot new guy wrapped around her finger,
or something."
"Or something, yeah."
"Doesn't want to tell me about him, afraid I'll steal him with my
irresistible charms, I guess. Like she needs to worry."
"Ha, ha!"
"Well, sorry to bother you, Michelle. Talk to you later."
"No problem, Carol. 'Bye." CLICK.
"What did Carol want, 'Chelle?"
"Just checking up on you. Damn, I was really hoping that'd be him!"
"Yeah, me too. Now, what can we possibly do to while away the time while
we're waiting . . . ?"
"Why, Ms. Hong, are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting? Just
what kind of a girl do you think I am?"
"The yummy kind. Let's move into the other room, and I'll ravish you. Bring
the phone . . ."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
RING. "Hello?"
"Hi, Agnes."
"Ah, it's you! 'Chelle, it's him!"
"You're as eager as you are sexy, my dear."
"Did you see us last night? We were good, weren't we?"
"Sweetheart, you were fantastic. Those other girls couldn't even begin to
compare--you two were a pair of diamonds in the mud of the Zanzibar."
"Hey, thanks, um . . . 'Chelle calls you `lover,' but I'm not sure what I
should . . ."
"You? You can just call me `sir.'"
"Yes, sir! Private Hong, reporting for duty."
"Listen, Agnes, I've got a new trick for you. We're going to dispense with
the phone, for now. After you hang up, you'll find that you can hear me
even without being on the phone. You'll hear my voice in your head, like a
voice-over in a film. Michelle, you'll find that you can hear me that way,
too."
"You can do that? Should I tell Michelle?"
"Don't worry, she knows--though she doesn't know it, if you see what I . .
. Never mind. Just hang up the phone, Agnes."
"'Kay." CLICK. "Um . . . sir? Are you there?"
[Yes, Agnes. Can you hear me?]
"Holy shit! I mean, yeah, I can hear you."
[What about you, Michelle?]
"Loud and clear, lover. Way cool."
[All right, the project for the day: you're going to do a little bit of
photography for me. You'll need a camera.]
"I've just got a dinky little one. It's not very good."
[Well, that won't do at all; we want these pictures to come out nicely.
Take a look on the coffee table, in front of the TV. I think you'll find a
very high-quality Nikon sitting there.]
"Hey, where the hell did this come from? How . . . ?"
[Just a li'l thing I do. Get dressed, you two: wear things that you can
take off quickly, like maybe skirts with elastic waistbands and loose tops
. . . panties and bras underneath.]
"You got it. Sir? You knew we weren't dressed . . . can you see us?"
[Very observant, Agnes. Yes, I, um . . . let's just say that I'm learning
new tricks all the time.]
"'Chelle, can I borrow this skirt? Great. And this shirt just slips right
off . . . Okay, we're ready . . . but then I guess you can see that."
[Right. Okay, here's the mission: you are to go to a convenience store, far
away from anywhere you normally go--so you won't run into friends or
neighbours--and buy a couple of magazines. I'll tell you which ones when we
. . . when you get there. When you've paid for them, here's what I want you
to do . . .]
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
"All right, I think this is far enough into the middle of nowhere . . .
Lover? Still there?"
[Present in spirit, Michelle.]
"I can't remember what I'm supposed to do, exactly, except something about
buying magazines."
[I know. I told you to forget. Don't worry, you'll know when the time
comes.]
"Good. Say, can we, y'know, just sort of think stuff to you, instead of
saying it out loud? People might stare."
[Nope, I'm afraid I can't manage that particular trick. Just speak
softly--I'll pick it up, don't worry. Go into the store, now.]
". . . the magazines are over here, 'Chelle. Hmm . . . Guns and Ammo,
Windsurfing Monthly, Cosmo, Scientific American . . . What are we after,
sir?"
[Oh, pick up a Playboy's Book of Lingerie, I think, and . . . yeah, get a
Swimwear Illustrated.]
"I don't know if they have that one . . . Oh, there it is. Here, 'Chelle,
I, ah, think you're supposed to pay for these."
"Yeah, I think you're right. Gimme . . . Hi there, how's it going?"
"Just fine. Will that be all?"
"Yep. Say, that's a mighty spiffy uniform you've got there, `Bob.' Do they
pay you extra to wear that thing?"
"Don't get me started . . . That's twelve fifty-three total."
"Here you go . . . Whoo! Man, it sure is hot in here all of a sudden! Isn't
it awfully warm in here, Agnes?"
"Yeah. Sort of muggy, too."
"Might help if we got rid of some of these clothes, don't you think? Ahhh .
. . much better. Do you find it warm in here at all, Bob?"
"No, um, I . . . well, maybe just a little."
"Hmm. Tell me, what do you think of these panties I've got on? And this
bra? Is powder blue a flattering colour for me?"
"I, uh . . . that's-seven-forty-seven-change-ma'am-have-a- nice-day."
"What about Agnes, here? Come on, Bob, we're looking for a bit of male
input. Her panties, and the bra . . . I couldn't wear that kind of frilly
white stuff, myself, but I think she really pulls it off, don't you? How
does she look?"
"Uhm . . . She looks, ah, nice. Very nice. You know, I think it's
definitely feeling a bit warm in here, I should check the air ducts . . .
Oh, sorry, sir, may I help you?"
"Who are you talking to, Bob?"
"The guy standing behind you, ma'am."
"Huh? We're the only ones here . . . Oh, I get it, I've got an invisible
friend, is that it?"
"No, I . . ."
"Never mind, Bob. Put your eyes back in their sockets, we're outta here . .
. Ha ha! Hoo-boy! Lover, you should have seen the look on his face . . .
Oh, you could see, somehow, couldn't you?"
[That's right, Michelle, I could see everything. Well done. Get back in the
car, and you'd better put your outer clothes back on, now . . . We wouldn't
want you to be pulled over by some zealous cop, would we? Or would we? That
might be . . . nah, forget it, you'd better get dressed. Some other time,
maybe.]
"Bob must've been, what, seventeen? I betcha I know what he'll be thinking
about tonight in bed. Or who, at least."
"You've got a dirty mind, Agnes. What's next, lover?"
[Well, those two magazines you've just bought are each full of pictures of
nude, half-nude, and practically nude young women. I want each of you to
take a magazine and look through it, cover to cover. Pick out the three
pictures which you think are sexiest--best poses, best clothes. Then swap,
and look through the other magazine and do the same thing.]
"All right . . . Jeez, tough call . . . Okay, I've got three picked out.
Done, 'Chelle?"
"Just a sec, I'm trying to decide between these two . . . Okey-dokey. Here
you go . . ."
[All done?]
"Almost, I think . . . Yeah, I'm done."
"Me, too."
[Any overlap in your choices?]
"Um, let's check . . . Nope."
[Great. All right, I want you to go out and buy yourselves some costumes
for your photo shoot later. Try to replicate, as closely as you can, the
clothes that the models are wearing in the pictures you've chosen . . .]
"One of my pictures doesn't have any clothes in it . . . No, hang on,
there's a bra on the edge of the bed . . . Where am I going to find one
like that?"
[Just do your best. There are a lot of lingerie and swimsuit stores in this
city: check around and see what you can come up with. Do you both have
credit cards?]
"Yes."
"Yeah."
[Pay for everything with plastic. Oh, and buy one extra outfit each,
something daring, that you think will make you look your absolute
sexiest--try to make my eyes bug out like ol' Bob's, okay? All right, move
out, and I'll be in touch again when you get back to Michelle's apartment.
Be back there by six o'clock this evening.]
"Sir, yes sir!"
"You got it, lover."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Aw, man . . . Shit! I can't believe this . . ."
"What, 'Chelle?"
"The key to my apartment, it's not on my key ring! How the hell could I
have lost it? Damn!" THUMP.
"Well, don't take it out on the door . . . Hey, looks like it worked,
though: it's opening."
[Hello, ladies.]
"Hi, lover. The weirdest thing just happened: I couldn't find my key, but
the door just swung open when I . . ."
[I know. Take a look in your purse, Michelle.]
"Why? Oh, here's the key. Hmph."
[You've found the appropriate items, I assume?]
"Yeah, we've got everything. Went to half the shops in the phone book, but
we did it."
[Show me what you've bought . . . Ah, yes, that looks very promising. All
right, you two: until I say otherwise, you will believe that you are in the
process of doing a series of photos for a magazine. Michelle, you're a
model, and your dressing room is through that door right in front of you.
Your costumes are in that bag you're holding. Agnes, you're a photographer;
your camera's over there on the coffee table. The film's all ready . . .
Now, all we need is for the model to finish dressing .. . . Maybe the
photographer ought to check on her?]
TAP-TAP-TAP. "Ms. Golding? We're ready to shoot."
"Coming! All right, I'm ready. How do I look?"
"Terrific, babe."
[Stunning.]
"OK, Michelle, whenever you're ready. Good, hold that."
CLICK-WHIRR-CLICK-WHIRR. "Right, now turn up the heat a little bit, bring
that shoulder forward a just a touch . . . Good, good!" CLICK-WHIRR.
[Very good . . .]
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
[. . . All right, Michelle, you can stop shooting. Rewind the film, and put
that roll over with the others, would you? You're no longer doing a photo
shoot: remember where you are, and who you are.]
"What? I . . . Oh, man, you mean that was all in our heads? Damn, I really
thought I'd landed a modelling job! Does this mean I'm not gonna be rich,
sir?"
[These particular photos will be seen only be a very select audience,
Agnes. An audience of one, in fact. Time for a new game . . . Have a seat
on the couch, you two. I want you to do something for me. Pretend that
you're giving someone a blow job. Just do it into the air, sort of like
mime, right? And if you do it well enough, and really try hard to imagine
that you're actually giving a blow job to an invisible cock, I'll be able
to feel it, and you'll make me feel good. And if you really do well, you'll
be able to feel it, too. Understand?]
"Yes, sir."
"Yes."
[Good. Go ahead. Yeah . . . That's it.]
"Feel anything yet, 'Chelle?"
"No, I . . . Mmph? Mmm."
"Is something happening?"
[Yes, something is, ahhh, happening. Mmm, that's nice.]
"Mmm-hmm."
"Sir, I still don't . . . Ahh. Wumm."
[You can, hahh, feel it now, Agnes?]
"Yeff."
[Ahh. Me, too.]
"I've lost it, now, lover."
[Don't worry, 'Chelle--oh, Agnes, good work!--everyone will get a turn.]
"I just lost it, too, 'Chelle."
"Mumfle."
"Ah."
[Yesss. In a moment, Michelle, you may experience--hah, God--the sensation
of a liquid in your mouth. You should, uhh, swallow it. It'll taste like,
s-s-s, your favourite drink. I, um, think it's coming . . . right . . .
NOW!]
"Mmmmm. Pina colada, hold the rum. Tasty!"
[Ahhh-hum. Well, that was . . . very nice. Good job of . . . mime, folks.
Go get changed into those extra outfits you bought for yourselves. Oh, and
Michelle: wash your face, would you?]
"Of course."
". . . OK, here we come . . . Ta da! You like?"
[You wear fishnet with a rare elegance, my dear Agnes. I'm don't believe
I've actually had anyone wear a full bodysuit of the stuff, for me. Very
sexy. I'll have to keep it mind in the future.]
"Hey, what am I, goose liver pate?"
[Well, you do look delicious, Michelle. Going for the less-is-more look, I
see, concealing just enough to tantalize. Mmm, silk! I like it.]
"Why, thank you."
[Now listen. In a moment, you are going to hear a finger snap. When you do,
you will suddenly find that you are once again able to perceive me, with
all of your senses. When you see me, you're going to find me absolutely the
most attractive man you've ever met, or could ever imagine meeting. Ready?
Here goes . . .] SNAP.
"Awk! Where the hell did you come fr- . . . Holy shit, you're gorgeous!"
"Thank you, Michelle."
"You really are, sir."
"Aw, shucks. And I didn't `come from' anywhere--I've been here since this
morning. I had a little chat with your subconscious, told you not to see
me, feel me, perceive me in any way except with hearing. Except, of course,
for when I partially overrode those instructions, like when you were doing
that little mime show just now."
"So when we `heard' you in our heads, we . . ."
"You were hearing me with your ears, just like usual. Except I told you to
think it was some kind of telepathy. That was fun; sort of like being The
Invisible Man, or a ghost. Now . . . I think I'd like one of you to give me
a massage. Which one should it be?"
"Me!"
"Me! Back off, Agnes, I saw him first!"
"Did not: we saw him at the same time!"
"Well, I heard him first!"
"Gee, ladies . . . you're both so eager! Tell you what: why don't we have a
little contest to resolve this? I'm going to sit here and watch while the
two of you, in those lovely outfits of yours, pose for me. Whoever's
sexiest, wins. Go ahead."
"How's this?"
"Very nice, Michelle."
"Yeah, well, check this out!"
"Oh, very good, Agnes. Carry on . . . Nice, nice . . . Very sexy, both of
you . . . Okay, that's enough. Well, it's a tough call, but in the end, I'd
have to say that Agnes won it."
"Damn!"
"Now, don't worry, 'Chelle, you'll get your turn to rub oil all over
me--you'll find some in that bag over there, Agnes. I'm going relax for a
while, rest up a little bit, and then I think we'll all go into the bedroom
and have a really good fuck."
"Yes!"
"While Agnes is doing this, Michelle, why don't you run out to the
store--better get changed into something more conservative, first--and buy
us some food. I noticed there's not much in your fridge, and we're going to
need to eat after all the energy I plan to burn up."
"You got it, lover."
"Ahhh . . . You're very good at this, Agnes."
"Thank you, sir."
"Mmmm. This promises to be a very long, very pleasant weekend . . ."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
DING-DONG. "Hi, Agnes, come on in. Did you pick up some videos?"
"Hi, 'Chelle. Yeah, I got Barton Fink, Much Ado About Nothing, and, um,
Lethal Weapon . . . hey, it's got Mel in it, all right?"
"No argument from me. So what's up?"
"Oh, nothing much. One strange thing, though: my credit card bill came
yesterday, and there were all these bizarre charges on it."
"Like what?"
"All the most recent ones are wrong: they're from a week ago--last
Saturday--and they're all from places like Bikini Village and Lynda's
Lingerie, stores like that."
"Man, that is weird! Mine came a couple days ago, let me just find it . . .
yeah, look, it's got a lot of the same stores on it. I know I didn't go to
these stores. I mostly stayed at home for the whole weekend, last week; did
some laundry, watched some TV, that kind of thing. So I called up the
credit card people, and they told me that it was some kind of glitch, and
the charges had already been cancelled, I wouldn't have to pay them."
"Bizarre. Last weekend . . . yeah, I did pretty much the same thing,
nothing too exciting. I figured I'd remember going on a shopping spree like
that. I'll call them tomorrow and straighten things out, I guess. So . . .
how's Richard?"
"Oh, fine . . . He came over on Tuesday night and we . . . made up,
nudge-nudge-wink-wink. Everything's all right. Better than ever, actually.
He was so considerate, if you get my meaning. I guess I just needed a
little time away from him, y'know?"
"Yeah, I know the feeling. All right, break out the popcorn!"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
RING. RING. RING. RING. "Hello?"
"Do you know two women called Michelle Golding and Agnes Hong?"
"Pardon? I think you must have the wrong person."
"Is this 555-1122?"
"Yeah, but . . ."
"Then I have the right person. Don't hang up. Listen to me, and do exactly
as I say."
"No, you can't . . ."
"Yes, I can. I'm far more powerful than you are, you can feel that, can't
you? Just listen to me, listen to my voice, let it guide you. Do what I
say, think what I tell you . . ."
"No! I won't . . ."
"You will, in the end, you know. You can fight me, but I'll win eventually.
You know that, don't you? You can feel it. Why not make it easier? Why keep
fighting? You can't win."
"I'll fight you . . . I'll . . . win . . ."
"Fighting's so hard, isn't it? I can hear it in your voice. So hard. You're
getting more and more tired. All this fighting, all this resisting. It's
too much. I don't think you really want to win, deep down. Isn't it hard,
always giving orders, always deciding, thinking, planning, controlling?
Wouldn't it be nice not to have to think, to just listen, to let go . . .
?"
"Let . . . go . . . No! Fuck you . . ."
"Anger is tiring, too, isn't it? Why not just stop? You're so tired. You
can't hide that from me, you know. I can hear it. So tired. Just say the
word, and it's all over. You can relax, stop all this struggling. Just say
`Yes,' and I'll know that you want to listen to me."
"No."
"Are you going to keep fighting me?"
"Ye-- oh, nice . . . try. Keep . . . fighting."
"Say it. Come on, just one little word, and it all stops. Say it. Now."
"No . . . I won't . . ."
"NOW."
"Won't say . . . yes. Yes."
"Listen to me very carefully, and do whatever I say, without question. Do
not hang up. Understand?"
"Shit. Yes."
"Good. Well, that was a pain in the ass. What's your name?"
"Brian. Brian Abercrombie."
"Well, Brian, you were playing games with Michelle and Agnes, weekend
before last, weren't you?"
"Yes. I didn't hurt them, or anything . . ."
"I know that. You'd be in deep shit if you had. Agnes is a friend of mine,
y'see. As it is, you're in relatively shallow shit. But I still don't like
to see my friends messed with."
"How did you . . ."
"Find out about it? Agnes's roommate told me that she'd been acting
strangely, taking off and refusing to tell anybody where she was headed,
disappearing all weekend and claiming she'd been home the whole time, stuff
like that. It sounded like maybe somebody with the power had been poking
around, so I checked her out, and sure enough, there were traces all over.
She told me all about it, and I talked to Michelle next. You told her your
phone number, Brian, remember? You told her to forget it, but she didn't,
not completely. I got it back."
"What are you going to do?"
"Listen, call me `Master,' all right?"
"Yes, Master. What are you going to do to me, Master?"
"Well, like I said, I'm only moderately pissed off, so I think a bit of
turnabout will be close enough to fair play. When I let you off the phone,
you're going to go to Michelle's apartment. You will do anything and
everything that either Michelle or Agnes tells you to do, without question,
without hesitation. You will call both of them `Mistress,' and you will be
their slave, for the next five days. And not a happy slave, either: you
won't want to do what they say, but you'll have no choice. When the five
days are up, you'll be free, but you won't ever give orders to Michelle,
Agnes, or anyone they know, again. Understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good. Oh, and for future convenience: memorize the sound of my voice. When
you hear my voice, you will feel very obedient and compliant. You'll want
to give in to me, to do whatever I say. That way we won't need to go
through that rigamarole about who's stronger again, will we? Who's
stronger, Brian?"
"You are, Master."
"You got it. Well, I'm going to hang on to your number, Brian. It could be
handy, having a slave with the power. Don't change numbers or move or
anything without informing me first. You can leave a message with Michelle,
and she'll tell Agnes, who sees me every once in a while."
"Yes, Master."
"Man, I do like the sound of that, coming from somebody with the talent.
Though not much of it, right, Brian? I could tell as soon as I started to
talk to Agnes that you were only a minor leaguer. I knew I could take you.
And, hey, here you are. Oh: you took some pictures of them, didn't you?"
"They took them of each other, yes, Master."
"You like to keep souvenirs, is that it?"
"Yes, Master."
"Have you had them printed yet?"
"No, Master."
"Good. After I let you hang up, I want you to destroy the photos--rip the
film out of the canisters and throw it away, or something. Or burn it, I
don't care. Understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"You are just so docile! It's a pleasure working with you. What are you
wearing, Brian?"
"A T-shirt, underwear, blue jeans."
"And how are you feeling? Happy?"
"Honestly, no, Master."
"Gee, that pains me, Bri, it really does. And I'm surprised you'd feel that
way, considering that Agnes is there in the room with you. See her? You're
naked . . . and she's giving you the best blow job of your life. Feel it?
Your cock's getting rock hard, isn't it?"
"Ahhh, yes, Master. Ummmm."
"Yeah, that feels pretty good, I'll bet. So good, in fact, that I think
you're about to have an orgasm. Right . . . about . . . now."
"Ohhhh, man. Uhhhh. Oh, that's good . . . um, Master."
"Yeah. Hey, Brian: Agnes isn't really there, is she? Imagine that. And
you're wearing clothes, aren't you? You just spurted into your jeans."
"Yes I did, Master."
"Good. Take the bus to get to Michelle's place. Don't change clothes. Leave
when you hang up--but take care of that film, first. Hang up, now."
CLICK.
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DING-DONG. "Oho! Brian, isn't it? Or should I call you `lover'? Do come in.
Agnes, look who's here!"
"Ah-hah! Hello, Brian."
"Hello, Mistress."
"Ooh, this is gonna be fun! 'Chelle and I have some great plans for you,
pal."
"Shut the door, slave. It's gonna be a long five days."
"Yes, Mistress." CLICK.
END.