INTERNET RELAY CHAT – When Predator Becomes Prey

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I.R.C. Internet Relay Chat “ When predator becomes prey.” © drkfetyshnyghts 2009 Foreword IRC stands for “Internet Relay Chat”. It was originally written by Jarkko Oikarinen in 1988. Since starting in Finland, it has been used in over 60 countries around the world. IRC is a multi-user chat system, where people meet on Channels (rooms, virtual places, usually with a certain topic of conversation) to talk in groups, or privately. There is no restriction to the number of people that can participate in a given discussion, or the number of channels that can be formed on IRC. So much is written about the internet and its dangers. Who are we REALLY talking to? Is that person REALLY who she says she is? We put so much emphasis on protecting those who may be vulnerable. But what COULD happen when the predator becomes the prey? This story is a complete work of fiction inspired by adult chat rooms that exist on the Internet Relay Chat networks. But, just think… just think, for one minute – things happen. Actions have consequences. Behaviour has consequences. For one predator, one ‘poser’… life will change forever. ONE: Deception. Claudette looked at one screen and casually clicked the mouse as another deal went through without a hitch. And yet she seemed ‘underwhelmed’ by it all. She had just earned the finance house she worked for another billion dollars. With the same click of the mouse she had banked herself probably in excess of a million dollars in bonuses. Oh she looked at the huge, flat panel LCD computer screen long enough to ascertain that the deal had in fact gone through without problems. Claudette never actually got problems with her deals. She never had, in twenty odd years in the City. Colleagues would put that down to her attention to detail. Anyone who knew Claudette knew about her attention to detail. Dotting the i’s crossing the t’s. She never left everything entirely to the automation. Never relied completely on computers doing all of the work for her. This latest deal was no different. The same minute attention to detail applied before the mouse click. That mouse click just the final action. The one that sealed the deal. Her perfectly manicured nails clicked and drummed the desktop. A good days work. Claudette had this habit, before that final mouse click, of simply crossing her legs under her desk. Making the sheerest of nylon swish on nylon so that her thighs rasped. It wasn’t quite the little ritual people might assume it was, if they knew. But it was a habit. If one were to study that particular action one would see that her impossibly clean stilettos were placed precisely, minutely in the same place before the leg cross and then the lifting of one, arched foot so that she could cross one thigh over the other was like an identical replay each and every time. The only way it could be differentiated from the one before, or any of the ones in the future, would be the outfit that Claudette wore. Always power dressed but always slightly different. Never two days in one week the same. Claudette was always impeccably turned out. Corporate outfits of the ‘look at me I am in charge’ variety. Maybe slightly different shades of nylon. From flesh through to barely black. Never totally black. Claudette saved the black for when, or if she wanted to look like a hooker. Those days did happen. But those were special days. And never during work hours. Also, those nylons, never garish colours. Rather from flesh colour through all the shades of brown. And always, but always the most expensive, silkiest nylons one could buy. And then there were the shoes, or the boots.. Once again, stylish and expensive. Once again impossibly, even slavishly clean. Anyone knowing shoes and boots would just know that these were not off the high street shelves. The only similarity in these shoes and boots, were the height of the heels. Extreme heels would be an appropriate way to describe them. Another word that may spring to mind, was ‘fetish’. Boots, shoes, either always impeccably, or even unnaturally clean. Shoes of various styles from ‘court style pumps’ through to intricately detailed fuller shoes. Never anything styled in a way that spoiled the line of Claudette’s stunningly shapely and long legs. Always shoes and boots adding to Claudette. Boots never above knee height, or never below calf height and always but always tight fitting in supple leather and usually tightly laced. She abhorred ankle boots because they cut off leg length and it didn’t matter what was worn with them, they just didn’t look right. If Claudette made sure of anything, it was the fact that she always, but always ‘looked right’. Those heels, boots or shoes, were another constant. She never wore flats. And yet she always went one or more above the ‘killer heels’ level. It wasn’t simply killer heels that she wore. The heels that Claudette arched her feet into every single day of her life were closer to ‘ultra-fetish’ than they were to simply ‘killer’. Claudette was a woman who didn’t simply wear high heels. She enjoyed them. Embraced them. She loved then. Understanding then why she also didn’t simply cross her legs, but got some kind of buzz out of that very action. It was quite obvious to anyone who knew Claudette that she had this ‘thing’ about her feet, and her legs. She simply had to show them off to best effect. And the simple matter of fact was that she could do that with a natural and consummate ease. She didn’t need to work at it. It was a simply matter of fact of her life. It was the same as everything in Claudette’s life, it just seemed to come easily with the very minimum of effort. Maximum impact and vision in return for the littlest of effort. Claudette liked that. She liked it a lot. She liked it that she didn’t have to try too hard at anything she did. She liked the casual way she achieved and succeeded in any challenges she seemed to come up against. Claudette had crossed her legs, and sucked in air at the sensation that very action had caused. That tingle up and down her upper thighs. She had waited for that to fade and die before clicking the mouse and watching the transaction go through. Job done! But apart from that little sparkle that leapt out of her huge, saucer like eyes as that tingle had travelled, she had seemed maybe a little jaded, but also a more than a little preoccupied. No reports back of problems with the deal. A split second and she would have got a report back telling her if there had been such an issue. Then her eyes flicking to another screen. Her own personal laptop screen. A massively bright, impressive seventeen inch Apple wide screen. The top end of Apple’s MacBook Pro range. Fully loaded and Claudette’s own machine. Logged on to the company network and yet operating behind its own sophisticated firewall. Something was bugging her. Not absolutely obviously, just something in the way her attention was being stolen from the billion dollar plus deal she had just put through. Just something in the way her eyes flicked from screen to screen and then back again. The way her eyes just seemed to be drawn to her own laptop more than the huge deal she had put through on the company’s machine. Claudette was also “Athenia” an IRC Super-Operator. IRC being the Internet Relay Chat community. One of the oldest, if not ‘the’ oldest on the internet. IRC actually existing before the internet itself, as we know it today. Claudette having found it, quite by accident when she was in her twenties. Now in her forty first year, she, or Athenia had risen in the ranks and was the single most respected operator on the servers. BonNet being abbreviated, like most things IRC. Abbreviated in this case from the words Bondage and Network. The BonNet servers hosting some one thousand plus chat rooms for people with varying interests within the BDSM and Fetish spectrums. A community totalling some one hundred thousand people, and counting and with a host of ‘interests’ and ‘hobbies’ too exhaustive to list here. Usually the name of that room reflecting the interests of the occupants. “Latex Sluts” for instance needing no further explanation, for most. Athenia actually discovering fetish and BDSM through this very medium. Her interest, turning into a passion and then a full blown way of life over the years. Albeit a secret way of life. Athenia, her ‘other-self’ and very much, or for the most part at least, apart from her professional life. Her professional life being very much able to fund her ‘secret life’. For sure, Claudette’s footwear alone didn’t come from the budget end of the market. And yet for the hundreds and thousands of dollars that her footwear cost at a time, she was able to make the purchases barely noticing the difference in her personal banking balances. Having said that, she DID notice the ever changing balances simply because of her eye for the minute of detail. BonNet, very strictly an adults only community so with none of the child protection issues that a lot of networks have. Apart from the odd underage person stumbling upon the network accidentally and trying to gain access that is. Issues of that kind were soon exposed and dealt with. BDSM and Fetish got enough bad press as it was without allowing access to curious adolescents. And yet, after saying that, BonNet was a network with its own little nest of issues. Or potential issues if matters weren’t kept in check. As super-op, Claudette had various advanced access privileges afforded to her. Tracking and tracing for instance. Screen names logged and linked with advanced tracing of IP addresses. ISP (Internet Service Providers) and in general, access and use that was not available to the normal everyday user of BonNet. Nor the normal level of operators. Normal operators could for instance kick and ban individuals, from individual rooms, but Claudette could kick asses off and ban them from the server in total for repeated abuse of the terms of service. Athenia often laughed to herself at the level of ‘asshole’ that sometimes found their way onto the BonNet server and into the various rooms. Assholes were usually easy to spot, easy to weed out and even easier to eradicate with a few clicks of the mouse. She left the moderating of the rooms to their respective individual operators and on the whole things pretty much ran smoothly. Thing had run smoothly since she had been at the helm. It was rare for her to get involved operationally unless there were issues that arose that room operators could not deal with. Or wanted advice on. Athenia was always more than happy to help and advise the lesser experienced operators. Something was bugging Athenia though. The deal had gone through and she was personally, a million up. But the way she crossed her stunning legs, then recrossed them just wasn’t sitting quite right with her normal confident demeanour. Her huge, expertly made up eyes flicked back to her lap top and stayed there on an increasing basis over the period of a few minutes. Eventually, that screen had her total and unflinching attention. It wasn’t so much a troubled expression that came over her face, more like an expression of puzzlement. Head slightly tilted to one side, and then running her fingers through the thick, long mane of flame red hair that seemed to frame her stunningly attractive face making it even more so. The pressing of her full, deep red lips together, then rolling them in before ‘smacking’ them against themselves allowing them to peel apart of their own accord. A deep sigh. Tapping the page-down key on her keyboard. Then the page up as though she were reading and then re-reading. Leaning over the desk to press the intercom button to her PA in the office pool outside. “Selena, hold any calls. I don’t want to be disturbed not even urgently. Take messages, tell people I’ll get back to them if you can’t deal with it yourself. OK?” Claudette didn’t wait for the response from the other end of the intercom. Pure confidence that her PA was in place and had heard and understood every word. Almost an arrogance in the way she conducted herself. Not a rude arrogance. Just a very confident, no-messing arrogance. Claudette’s attention, even before she had released the intercom button was back to her screen. Full immersion. She idly fingered a pack of cigarettes on her desk. She had been trying to give up and had decided that slowly was the best way. Already she was in the ‘social smoker only’ spectrum and was more pleased with herself because of that than with all of those massive deals she pulled off. This time though, it was different. She needed a cigarette and slipped an extra long cork tipped one from the pack. At first she simply dangled it from her red lips. Eyes still fixed on the screen. She seemed to leave that cigarette dangle for an age before she finally flicked a lighter to life and lit it. When she did, she dragged heavily, then inhaled. It was only when she inhaled that the mass of her breasts shifted under the silk blouse she was wearing. Both breasts rising, and staying high as she held the smoke down in her lungs. Then lowering as she exhaled lazily. Letting the smoke pour from between her full lips rather than blowing it out. All the time her eyes focused on the screen of her laptop. A few weeks previously, Athenia had had a nickname brought to her attention. A nickname being the screen name that members of IRC communities use instead of their own real names. For instance Claudette’s nickname, or screen name is Athenia. What was odd about the screen name brought to Athenia’s attention was that it appeared to log on through a countless number of internet service providers, but more importantly from different geographical locations. That is, not different locations say within the United Kingdom, or United States for instance, but different locations on a worldwide scale. On the face of it, there was nothing wrong with this. People travel and people take their computers with them. What was strange, was when the ISPs and geographic locations were all married up to the time stamps of log-ins to it became glaringly obvious that this person, whoever she was could not physically being doing all of that travelling in the time slots that the log-in records indicated. Even when local time versus log-in location time was take into consideration, that fact jumped out and begged for attention. These were the facts that attracted the attentions of the IRC super-ops in the first place. More so especially leaving Claudette with more than a little disturbed feeling in the pit of her stomach. When the facts slowly unravelled the disturbed feeling in the pit of her stomach would only increase. And then increase again. Somebody using the screen name MissMyndFuck was, with apparent ease being able to log on to the network and feed their connection through any number of ISPs through any number of countries, worldwide and simply talk to anyone in the rooms. The IRC network offered its own security and anonymity for users discretion and BonNet further enhanced user discretion making it impossible for normal, everyday users to track or trace anyone else on the network, for obvious reasons. Added to this was the fact that the network and BonNet were completely free to use. Which meant that there was no subscription, or pay transactions to be processed or encrypted which in itself ensured users discretions and secrecy if that was what they desired. So quite why, this MissMyndFuck would want to add a further level of advanced and sophisticated ‘rumble prevention’ escaped Athenia, at least initially. One could only come to the conclusion that in fact, the intentions of the user MissMyndFuck were less than honest. Or less than genuine. Or more worryingly, that the intentions were in fact sinister. These facts as they rattled around Athenia’s head didn’t simply escape her, they implored her to look further into it. It was simply something she had to do. And, another strange and nagging thing that was chipping away at Athenia was that there felt that there was something of an urgency attached to the matter. Just a feeling that the sooner she acted, the sooner she came up with answers, the better she would feel. That accounted for the slight chill down he spine. The one that made her shift constantly on hr seat. The one that made her cross and recross her delicious legs time after time. The further Athenia had dug, the more concerned she had become. MissMyndFuck had used a fixed IP address. She understood that because it meant that her connection wherever it was made remained stable. The IRC network, or more to the point, BonNet would recognise it immediately and not flag it up as a ‘new’ or ‘unknown’ user. So the stable, uninterrupted connection was important to her. More important than the fact that because she was using a constant IP address and apparently from different countries, her connection would be eventually flagged up as suspicious anyway. It became totally obvious to Athenia that this person, whoever it was, just simply did not want to be tracked or traced and had gone to a lot of time and trouble to set herself up so that that would not happen. That feat alone took pretty advanced knowledge of networks and protocol. That bugged Athenia. It bugged her more than a little bit. Why would anyone go to such trouble? She considered that the whole IRC thing, and especially BonNet with its Fetish and BDSM roots was clandestine enough to offer any level of ‘enthusiast’ the anonymity they needed without going to this extra trouble. And, really, re-routing connections through other countries, sometime several countries at a time was not an easy thing to do. It took network knowledge and skill to be able to set that up, and maintain it. MissMyndFuck, it appeared, had been using BonNet for something like three years before she had been flagged up as overly “odd’. This MissMyndFuck, whoever she was had to be investigated further. There was something on a level up, more than simply sinister about it all. There was really only one person who could carry out this level of investigation. Athenia had got the bit between the teeth. She had prided herself that she could explain, fix or set up anything IRC that anyone cared to bring up. Her knowledge was vast. And so ok, she had found out what this woman was doing. Even, more or less how she was doing it. She had even come to the conclusion that well actually MissMyndFuck wasn’t breaking any rules, or abusing the terms of service and usage of the BonNet network at all. But that wasn’t the point. Something, just something kept niggling at Athenia. She had to dig deeper. She simply had to. One thing just kept going through her mind and that was that no-one, but no-one went to THIS much trouble in order to get their jollies on BonNet. There just had to be something very very sinister about the whole thing. Athenia did dig deeper. In the first instance she set up a track script so that every instance of every log-in by MissMyndFuck would be catalogued. And every instance of every room entered also catalogued. Every room conversation in which she took part would also be catalogued and filed. But that was an added cause for concern. She very rarely took part in room conversations. In fact, the sum total of her involvement in the rooms themselves was a simple, “good morning / good afternoon / good evening, I am MissMyndFuck a 40 year old Dominatrix of the advanced variety.” And that was it. Simply an introduction. An habitual one because most of the rooms on BonNet required an ‘id’ on entry. Age and sex was usually enough. But MissMyndFuck’s intro and id went a step further, like a laying of the bait. Just a gentle stretching of the feelers. Most, if not all of MissMyndFuck’s conversations were in the form of private messages. IRC carried the facility to enable users to have private conversations between each other. That is two users could communicate by private message, and their conversation would remain invisible to other users. It was a fact that most conversations on the network were carried out this way. The rooms were usually simply a meeting place. Occasionally there were protracted, often boring conversations taking place, even some ‘play’, in which role-play scenes depicting interests connected with the room itself were engaged in. Even Athenia had to admit that some of these scenarios had more than perked her interest. It was how she got into BDSM and Fetish in the first place. But MissMyndFuck never played in public and never took part in protracted conversations in the rooms. This only served to further Athenia’s puzzlement and increasing suspicion. She had to dig deeper still. It was possible for her as Super-Op to set a script whereby private conversations were also recorded and logged. This was a power that was not used lightly. In fact, Athenia had never used it. It was like a gross invasion of privacy and probably illegal in most countries. However, on this occasion, and solely this occasion, there was a need and a justification. Claudette, aka Athenia was not getting good vibes from this whole thing. In fact the vibes she was getting were very bad ones. The deeper she dug, the worse those vibes became. Over the three years, MissMyndFuck had talked to literally hundreds upon hundreds of people. Always other women. Commonly young women. Late teens, early twenties and exclusively those who described themselves in the rooms as ‘submissive’. She seemed to ‘filter’ these women down until she was left with those that appeared vulnerable, or lonely. Or both. From them, she would then seemingly select her ‘victims’. What made it particularly hard to decipher for Athenia was the fact that people ‘played’ on IRC. That was what they went there for. To escape and immerse. So untangling the ‘play’ from the ‘reality’ was not an easy task. A simple fact was that people got ‘immersed’ in IRC role-play scenes. That is they ‘lived’ what they played at least in their minds. Having to read between the lines to try to find out what was real and what wasn’t was just almost a mountain too steep to climb. At least for anyone other than Athenia it would be. Athenia had pulled three of the private chat conversations involving MissMyndFuck and another user. The other user was simply ‘fullcry’. Apparently a nineteen year old bi-curious (a usually hetrosexual but with bi-sexual curiosity) girl with submissive tendencies who came over, to say the least vulnerable. But that could have been intentional. Someone giving that impression so that any play between the two would be more realistic and fantasy based. Over the three years there were many other conversations that MissMyndFuck had had with other users. If anything, these conversations had divulged a predatory nature in MissMyndFuck. Worryingly, further exposing the bridge between the IRC or the BonNet world, and the real world. Very few people mingled the two. Real and cyber usually stayed apart. Not always, but usually. MissMyndFuck fell into the unusual category in that she appeared to use the BonNet community as a hunting ground. Taken into consideration with her ‘interests’ in advanced Fetish and BDSM, alarm bells should and were raised to an even higher level. The conversations between MissMyndFuck and fullcry told a story. A quite harrowing story when taken as a whole. A story of a chance meeting on the IRC network between an advanced Fetishist and a vulnerable nineteen year old. The questions on Athenia’s lips at the beginning were, was this story real or was it just a role-play thing? It would easily be dismissed as a role-play thing if it were between two innocuous users of the network. That it was between MissMyndFuck and fullcry, sent a deeply unsettling rumble through the inner femininity of Claudette. MissMyndFuck had gone to considerable lengths, and either displayed expertise herself, or employed expertise in cloaking her real identity on the IRC network. Claudette had chosen just one file of logs, those of ‘fullcry’ to follow, so that a picture could be built. MissMyndFuck it seemed followed a set Modus-Operandi each time. Obviously one that had been successful for her in the past. From that immense file of logs she just pulled three out. Not at random. More like from the beginning, the middle and then the latest conversation. Just to give her that overall picture. Claudette could do that. She could speed read through reams and reams of files and simply select and pinpoint the key points. The key notes. The important bits. All she needed to do here was go over some stuff, and convince herself that her feelings, her gut instinct was in fact right. Once she was convinced she was on the right track she would level up the investigation. Some of it she would be able to do alone. For some of the more technical and advanced stuff she would need help. But she had that in droves from contacts all round the world. BonNet was a massive global community. IRC as a whole even bigger. Its reaches were far and wide. Excerpts From Private Message (PM) 1: MMF: “HI I’M MissMyndFuck AND YOU ARE?” FC: “I’M FULLCRY PLEASED TO MEET YOU MISSMYNDFUCK.”. MMF: “YOUR NAME GIRL WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME?” FC: “OH SORRY, I AM LISA. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME MISSMYNDFUCK?” MMF: “BETTER GIRL. MY NAME ISN’T IMPORTANT. YOU SIMPLY ADDRESS ME AS MISSMYNDFUCK OR MISS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND GIRL?” FC: “UHHHH YES, YES MISSMYNDFUCK. I UNDERSTAND.” MMF: “GOOD GOOD LISA. I LIKE GIRLS WHO UNDERSTAND ME, AND WHO DONT NEED CONSTANT REMINDERS. I THINK WE WILL GET ON VERY WELL LISA, DONT YOU?” FC: “YES MISSMYNDFUCK. YES I HOPE SO.” MMF: “GOOD GOOD. I CAN SEE FROM YOUR PROFILE THAT YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF EXTREMELY SUBMISSIVE. DOES THAT INCLUDE SUBMSSIVE TO OTHER WOMEN LISA?” FC: “UHHH Y-YES YES IT DOES” *blushing MMF: “OH THAT’S QUITE ALRIGHT DEAR. THERE IS NO NEED TO BLUSH. NO NEED AT ALL. DO YOU HAVE ANY EXPERIENCE OF SUBMISSION, OTHER THAN HERE?” FC: “N-NO NO I DONT. I AM QUITE A NEW USER HERE. I AM JUST EXPLORING REALLY. I NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT GOING ANY FURTHER.” MMF: “WELL LISA, THAT’S QUITE ALRIGHT. ACTUALLY ITS A GOOD THING I CAME ALONG BECAUSE IT MEANS WE CAN EXPLORE TOGETHER. IF THATS OK WITH YOU?” FC: *giggles “HMMMM WELL YEAH THAT MIGHT BE FUN. I AM PRETTY HIGHLY SEXED MOST OF THE TIME. SO IT COULD BE FUN” *blushes more MMF: “DELCIOUS. I DO LIKE HIGHLY SEXED GIRLS, YUMMY! WHAT DO YOU LOOK LIKE LISA DESCRIBE YOURSELF TO ME?” FC: “UHMMMM I’M NINETEEN YEARS OLD, 5′ 6” TALL AND 34c-23-33 FIGURE. I HAVE PLATINUM BLONDE HAIR. AND I HAVE BEEN TOLD THAT I HAVE GREAT LEGS.” MMF: “MMMMM YOU SOUND DELICIOUS ENOUGH TO EAT LISA.” This first conversation went on for some time. It was the introductory one. Lots of small talk. Lots of slow but deliberate mind-fucks by the older woman. It didn’t take much imagination to work out where MissMyndFuck’s screen name came from. Indeed, it underlined the pre-meditated nature of what she was doing. By the end of it, MissMyndFuck was undoubtedly inside the head of the younger woman. But… as it stood, it was pretty much a run-of-the-mill conversation of the kind that went on every day on the network. Part play, part real life. MissMyndFuck becoming the Mistress and Dominatrix. Basically a role-play with the nineteen year old submitting to a variety of things as simple as how to address and speak to her new Mistress, down to how often, or indeed, if at all she could masturbate. Once again, pretty much normal everyday occurrences on IRC and in particular on the BonNet network. People needed to play. Needed a release. People from all walks of life came to BonNet to ‘live out’ their fantasies on a cyber-sex basis. Nothing wrong with that. But perking Athenia’s bad vibes more was that how easy this younger woman gave over her personal details. Email address. Town that she lived in. Cell phone number. Landline number. Even agreeing to the possibility that this may not remain solely a cyber relationship. It being clear that a lot of this information was being transmitted not via this particular private message system, but via email. The exchange of emails taking place even as the private conversation via IRC was taking place. Lisa, sending a selection of photographs to MissMyndFuck. The Dominatrix complimenting her on her looks, and on the ‘delicious’ poses the girl had obviously adopted. It appeared that ‘delicious’ was one of MissMyndFuck’s favourite words since she used it on a regular basis. More rumbles of worry… Lisa agreeing to a web cam connection between the two in which she would be visible and yet MissMyndFuck would not. MMF: “YOU WILL SEE ME IN DUE COURSE. BUT I INSIST THAT ALL OF MY GIRLS ARE EXPOSED TO ME. THIS DOESN’T WORRY YOU DOES IT LISA DEAR?” FC: “N-NO NO MISS NO IT DOESN’T WORRY ME AT ALL.” Leading questions with the expected answer built-in pointed at manipulation. Obvious from the tone and direction of the conversation that MissMyndFuck was sexually arousing the younger woman. Nothing forced. Nothing overly pushed. Nothing illegal. Everything consensual. Just a slow, and yet quite deliberate domination of a young woman, by an older one. A very experienced and very mature seduction of a younger woman by an older one. Once again, nothing that unusual in the world of BonNet, or the other numerous IRC servers out there. But this was different. Athenia’s bad vibes about this didn’t fade or die. If anything they increased in intensity, She could feel a strange kind of throb in the pit of her stomach that fed the bad vibe. almanbahis But at the same time it fed something else. There was an ‘excitement’ there also. It was the kind of excitement that forced her to uncross and recross her legs on a constant basis. A quickening of her breathing. Was it because she had the bit between her teeth? Was it because she was on some kind of mission? Maybe a mixture of all these things. She pressed the page-down key, and re-read the second of the chosen private message transcripts. She had to be sure. She had to be certain that the story these private message logs intimated at was what she was beginning to think they were. She had to be certain that this wasn’t simply net play. Cyber play. Role-play. Or what ever one would call it. Excerpts From Private Message (PM) 2: MMF: “MMMMM GOOD GIRL LISA. NOW I WANT YOU TO MOVE THE WEB CAM OUT A BIT SO I CAN SEE MORE OF YOU. DO YOU THINK YOU CAN DO THAT FOR ME?” FC: “YES MISTRESS. OF COURSE THIS GIRL CAN DO ANYTHING FOR HER MISTRESS. HER OWNER. ANYTHING AT ALL.” MMF: “GOOD GIRL….DELICIOUS. NOW I CAN SEE YOU MUCH BETTER. I CAN SEE MUCH CLEARER HOW MY NEWEST GIRL IS SERVING HER MISTRESS, AND OWNER. YOU DO UNDERSTAND WHY GIRLS LIKE YOU NEED AN OWNER. AND NEED TO BE CONTROLLED DON’T YOU LISA – YOU DO REMEMBER OUR CONVERSATION ABOUT THIS, DON’T YOU GIRL?” FC: “OH YES, YES OF COURSE MISTRESS. I UNDERSTAND FULLY. IT’S LIKE YOU TAUGHT ME. SOME PEOPLE ARE FOLLOWERS. OTHERS ARE LEADERS. THE FOLLOWERS NEEDS TO BE CONTROLLED, AND OWNED BECAUSE THEY ARE LOWER IN CLASS AND STATUS THAT THE LEADERS MISTRESS.” MMF: “THAT’S RIGHT LISA. WELL DONE. AND TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE, AND WHAT YOU NEED?” FC: “I AM A FOLLOWER MISTRESS. I NEED TO BE CONTROLLED, AND OWNED BECAUSE I AM OF A LOWER STATUS THAN YOU MISTRESS.” MMF: “GOOD GIRL LISA. GOOD GIRL. I AM SO PLEASED THAT YOU APPEAR TO BE LEARNING FROM YOUR OWNER. SOMETHING ELSE YOU WILL LEARN IS THAT IT IS ALWAYS BEST TO PLEASE ME. YOU WILL LEARN THAT IF I AM NOT PLEASED, THEN IT WONT BE GOOD FOR YOU IN ONE OR MORE WAYS.” FC: “OH YES MISTRESS, OF COURSE MISTRESS. I JUST FEEL, FROM DEEP DOWN INSIDE THAT I WANT TO PLEASE YOU. AND THEN PLEASE YOU SOME MORE.” MMF: “WELL, NOW THAT DOES PLEASE ME LISA, TO HEAR THAT AND I CAN ALSO ‘SEE’ THAT YOU WANT TO PLEASE ME. SEEING YOU NAKED LIKE THAT PLEASES ME. IT PLEASES ME A GREAT DEAL. BUT SOMETHING ISN’T QUITE RIGHT IS IT? I AM NOT THAT IMPRESSED WITH YOUR NAME. LISA, JUST DOESN’T SEEM TO BE THE RIGHT NAME FOR YOU. NOW THAT YOU HAVE FOUND YOUR TRUE POSITION IN LIFE. DOES IT MAKE SENSE TO YOU THAT YOU NEED TO HAVE A NEW NAME. ONE THAT BEFITS WHAT YOU ARE. AND WHO YOU ARE?” FC: “UHMMMM MISTRESS. I NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE. BUT I GUESS IT MAKES SENSE. I GUESS IT MAKES SENSE FOR ME TO HAVE ANOTHER NAME, MORE FITTING TO MY NEW CALLING IN LIFE. B-BUT, I DONT KNOW WHAT THAT NAME CAN BE. I DONT KNOW WHAT KIND OF NAME THAT WOULD FIT ME MISTRESS?” MMF: “OF COURSE YOU DONT LISA. BUT THAT IS OK. THAT IS FINE. I HAVE A NAME FOR YOU. BUT FIRST…. FIRST OF ALL DID YOU PREPARE THE ITEMS I ASKED YOU TO PREPARE?” FC: “OH YES MISTRESS YES I DID, LOOK….” MMF: “AHH GOOD, GOOD GIRL. I CAN SEE THAT YOU HAVE PREPARED WELL. NOW LISTEN VERY CAREFULLY. VERY CAREFULLY INDEED. JUST DO EXACTLY WHAT I SAY. THAT IS FOLLOW MY INSTRUCTIONS TO THE LETTER AND THEN, WELL, I MAY JUST ‘RENAME’ YOU HERE ONLINE LIVE. WOULD YOU LIKE THAT GIRL?” FC: “OH MY GOD MISTRESS, YESSSSS YES PLEASE. JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT ME TO DO MISTRESS AND I WILL DO IT.” MMF: “GOOD GIRL. GOOD GIRL. REMEMBER MISTRESS ALWAYS LIKES TO BE PLEASED. IF MISTRESS ISN’T PLEASED, THEN THERE WLLL BE REPURCUSIONS. YOU DO KNOW THAT GIRL, DONT YOU?” FC: “OH YES MISTRESS YES OF COURSE. I UNDERSTAND THAT ALWAYS MY MISTRESS AND OWNER MUST BE PLEASED WITH HER PROPERTY. I UNDERSTAND THAT COMPLETELY.” MMF: “THAT’S RIGHT GIRL. I NEED TO BE PLEASED AT ALL TIMES AND WITHOUT EXCEPTION. NOW… I WANT YOU TO PLAY WITH YOUR NIPPLES. MAKE THEM HARD AND SWOLLEN FOR ME. MAKE THEM ERECT GIRL. USE YOUR THUMB AND FORFINGERS TO MAKE THEM HARD AND ERECT. THEN ONCE THEY ARE HARD, AND FULLY ERECT I WANT YOU TO TAKE TWO OF THE CLOTHES PINS YOU HAVE READY AND ATTACH ONE TO EACH NIPPLE. SQUEEZE OPEN THE CLOTHES PINS AND ATTACH THEM TO THE VERY BASES OF YOUR NIPPLES. DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I WANT FROM YOU GIRL?” FC: “MMMMM YES, YES MISTRESS, YES I UNDERSTAND. B-BUT WONT THE CLOTHES PINS HURT ME MISTRESS?” MMF: “YES, YES IT WILL HURT A LITTLE BEFORE YOUR NIPPLES GO NUMB. BUT THAT PLEASES ME GIRL. TO SEE MY PROPERTY SUFFERING FOR HER OWNER. THAT PLEASES ME. AND YOU ‘DO’ WANT TO PLEASE ME GIRL DON’T YOU?” Athenia sat back. That disturbed feeling in the pit of her stomach again. She sat back in her chair and recrossed her legs. At the same time she found herself clenching her thighs. Inside she hated to admit it, but she found herself excited by the control this MissMyndFuck had over the younger girl. That was her base interest in the BDSM and power exchange coming to the fore. MissMyndFuck appeared to know her stuff. Appeared to know exactly what she was doing. Appeared to know exactly what to say, and when to say it. Knew when to instil just a minute feeling of guilt into the younger girl, in order to garner a deeper loyalty. Just a little was all it took. A little bit of guilt and loyalty dripped in at a time. Feeding the younger girl. Actually convincing her the she was what MissMyndFuck said she was, and who she was. Athenia cleared her throat before she continued reading. Waiting for the chill that was careering down the core of her spine to dissipate before she continued. FC: “YES, YES OF COURSE MISTRESS, YES OF COURSE THIS GIRL WANTS HER OWNER TO BE PLEASED ALWAYS. ALWAYS MISTRESS.” Yet another clench of the the thighs as Athenia recognises the girl slipping into describing herself in the third person. An often required detail in an online Domme / sub relationships. A recognised acceptance of one’s lowlier position to her owner, or superior. There is just the slightest pause in the timeline then, one can only assume that fullcry is playing with her nipples. Erecting them in full view of the web cam, in real time, which is feeding the images directly to MissMyndFuck. MMF: “GOOD GIRL. GOOD GIRL. MMMM WOW, THEY ARE SUCH BIG NIPPLES. DELICIOUS GIRL SIMPLY DELICIOUS. I LIKE BIG NIPPLES GIRL, THEY MAKE ME HAPPY. BIG ERECT, FACT NIPPLES MAKE YOUR MISTRESS HAPPY AND THAT IS GOOD ISN’T IT GIRL?” FC: “OHHHHHHH Y-YES, YES MISTRESS THAT IS GOOD. SO GOOD.” MMF: “NOW… DO AS I INSTRUCTED WITH THE CLOTHES PINS GIRL. ATTACHED ONE TO EACH NIPPLE AND THEN REMOVE YOUR HANDS. ONCE THE PINS ARE ATTACHD, REMOVE YOUR HANDS FROM THE PROXIMITY OF YOUR NIPPLES AND DO NOT BRING THEM BACK THERE. IN FACT GIRL, SIMPLY ATTACH THE PINS AND THEN CLASP YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD. INTERLINK YOUR FINGERS AND KEEP THEM THERE. DO YOU THINK YOU CAN DO THAT FOR ME GIRL, HMMMM?” FC: “YES MISTRESS YES I CAN DO THAT… MMMM YESSSS MISTRESS.” Another slightly longer pause in the time line. Obviously, fullcry following the instructions to the letter. Athenia clenching her thighs again, and becoming more than a little aware of the collection of moisture between her legs. That little throb that was feeding the feelings of disturbance, also feeding a deeper thing inside her. Oh, MissMyndFuck was good. Athenia had to give her that much. And once again, once again, were it not for this older woman’s self imposed, highly complex security measures, there would be nothing really sinister to be concerned about. In fact it would be a very arousing exchange between two consenting adults. That bit Athenia liked and responded to. The sort of games played out daily on BonNet. Power exchange. Micro control. Micro management. The sort of games that people played to escape the real world. The sort of games they played just to be in a different zone for a few hours at a time. But once again, Athenia having had the benefit of knowing about these security measures, and having the further benefit of reading the entire file of logs of conversations between the two meant that she knew there was more to it. Lots more. Sinister may have been one word that could have been applied. And yet the more Athenia read and the more that things fell into place, the more she realised that sinister just wasn’t an appropriate word. What was happening here, what was occurring between the two went far beyond that. MissMyndFuck was indeed mind-fucking the younger woman on a mind-boggling scale. FC: “SSSSSHHHHHH OHHHHH MISTRESS THAT HURTS A LOT. SUCH A LOT MISTRESS.” MMF: “MMMM I KNOW HONEY. I KNOW IT HURTS. BUT IT ALSO PLEASES ME. AND I KNOW YOU WANT TO PLEASE ME. THATS RIGHT THATS RIGHT GIRL CLASP YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD. LET YOUR MISTRESS, YOUR OWNER SEE THOSE THROBBING NIPPLES. MMMM DELICIOUS GIRL DELICIOUS. YOU ARE DOING SO WELL. SO WELL.” There is another pause in the time line. A time during which obviously MissMyndFuck is watching the girl suffering. fullcry not able to to type because her fingers are interlaced behind her head. MissMyndFuck simply enjoying the sight of the girl and her numbing nipples. MMF: “MMMMM NOW I AM PLEASED GIRL SO VERY PLEASED. NOW, THE THIRD CLOTHES PIN GIRL, THAT IS TO BE ATTACHED TO A VERY SPECIAL PLACE. A VERY SPECIAL PLACE INDEED. DO YOU KNOW ABOUT YOUR CLITORIS GIRL. THAT SPECIAL THING, UNDER THE HOOD, AT THE TOP OF YOUR SLIT… HMMMMM YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT YES?” FC: “YES, YES MISTRESS. AS YOU KNOW, SOMETIMES I PLAY WITH THAT. I PLAY WITH IT QUITE A LOT. I CANT HELP MYSELF MISTRESS. IT JUST FEELS LIKE SOMETIMES I HAVE TO PLAY WITH IT.” MMF: “YES, YES OF COURSE YOU DO GIRL. A LOT OF GIRLS, A LOT OF CREATURES LIKE YOU DO THAT. SOME, LIKE YOURSELF JUST CANNOT HELP YOURSELF AND THAT IS ONE OF THE REASONS THAT PEOPLE LIKE ME EXIST, SO THAT WE CAN CONTROL THE AMOUNT OF TIME YOU PLAY… OR ARE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH YOURSELVES.” FC: “MMMM YES MISTRESS, YES I UNDERSTAND THAT” *blushes MMF: “AWWWW I CAN SEE THAT BLUSH FROM HERE GIRL. NO NEED TO BLUSH, HONESTLY NO NEED TO BLUSH. I AM GOING TO TAKE CARE OF THESE LITTLE CRAVINGS YOU HAVE. THE ONES WHERE YOU NEED TO PLAY AND PLEASURE YOURSELF. ONLY I CONTROL THAT CRAVING NOW. NOT YOU. DO YOU UNDERSTAND GIRL?” FC: “MMMMM YES MISTRESS YES.. THIS GIRL UNDERSTANDS FULLY.” MMF: “GOOD GIRL, GOOD GIRL. NOW BRING YOUR THUMB AND FOREFINGER TO YOUR SLIT AND JUST PRESS ON THE HOOD OF YOUR CLITORIS. JUST PRESS IT AND MAKE THE CLITTY POP OUT. WHAT I WANT YOU TO DO THEN IS JUST PLAY WITH, IN THE SAME WAY THAT YOU ARE USED TO DOING. PLAY WITH IT AND MAKE IT SWELL. MAKE IT WET AND MAKE IT SWELL UNTIL YOU CAN FEEL THAT THROB IN THE BASE. THEN, ONCE YOUR CLITORIS IS FULL, SIMPLY OPEN THE THIRD CLOTHESPIN AND ATTACH IT TO THE BASE OF THE CLIT… DO YOU THINK YOU CAN DO THAT HONEY, HMMMM? DO THAT FOR YOUR OWNER AND MISTRESS?” FC: “MMMM YES MISTRESS, THERE ISNT ANYTHING THIS GIRL WONT DO FOR HER MISTRESS, NOTHING AT ALL.” Oh god, Athenia had to give it to this woman she was MORE THAN good. Playing the younger one like a pack of cards and getting her exactly where she wanted her. Another clench of the thighs as the Super-Op found herself wishing she could see those images that MissMyndFuck was privvy to. But even then, she had that bugging air of despondency in the back of her mind. MissMyndFuck, whoever she was had a hidden agenda. There was just something about her that struck all of the wrong nerve endings. Claudette swiped her full lips with her tongue, trying to retain the focus. Trying to maintain the focus on what was after all, an incredibly and an increasingly disturbing issue. FC: “OHHHH MISTRESS THAT HURTS SO MUCH. THAT HURTS SOOO SO MUCH.” MMF: “YES, YES IT DOES HONEY, I KNOW THAT. BUT IT IS A DELICIOUS HURT AND IT PLEASES ME AND THAT IS WHAT IS IMPORTANT ISN”T IT?” FC: “MMMM Y-YES MISTRESS YES IT IS.” MMF: “GOOD GIRL. NOW, NOW JUST BRING YOUR HANDS BACK UP. CLASP THEM BEHIND YOUR HEAD AGAIN AND JUST READ CAREFULLY WHAT I AM GOING TO SAY NEXT. YOU WILL NOT TYPE BECAUSE YOU WONT BE ABLE TO. JUST READ AND TAKE IN WHAT I AM SAYING…. OK?” FC: “Y-YES MISTRESS, YES I UNDERSTAND.” Another pause in the time line as fullcry obviously follows the instruction. Her hands clasped, fingers interlaced behind her head as she sits, one can only assume, spread legged with tightly sprung clothespins attached to each nipple and to the swollen, de-hooded clitoris. MMF: “MMMMM GOOD GIRL GOOD GOOD GIRL. JUST LET EVERYTHING GO NUMB, BUT LISTEN TO ME HONEY. YOUR NAME… NO LONGER LISA. YOUR NAME IS ‘CUNT’. THAT IS WHAT YOU ARE. THAT IS WHO YOU ARE – ‘CUNT’. YOU BELONG TO ME CUNT. I WANT YOU TO UNDERSTAND THAT. I AM YOUR OWNER. YOU ARE MY PROPERTY. I OWN YOUR MIND AND I OWN YOUR BODY. I OWN YOU DOWN TO ATOM LEVEL. I EVEN OWN YOUR THOUGHTS. AND I MOST CERTAINLY OWN YOUR SOUL. YOU ARE ‘CUNT’ I AM YOUR OWNER.” From the time stamps and the pauses its obvious that MissMyndFuck is simply sitting back, savouring her control, and her torment of the younger woman. MMF: “NOW JUST ABSORB THE PAIN AND THE DISCOMFORT BUT TAKE THIS IN AS WELL. I WANT TO VISIT YOU. AND USE YOU IN PERSON…. I WILL DO THAT CUNT, I WILL VISIT YOU AND I WILL USE AND ABUSE YOU IN REAL TIME. BUT I WILL ALSO SEND OTHERS AROUND TO DO THE SAME…. I WILL ALSO SEND OTHERS ROUND TO USE YOU CUNT. YOU ARE INFERIOR, YOU ARE ‘CUNT’. A FOLLOWER. ONE THAT NEEDS TO BE CONTROLLED AND ONE THAT NEEDS AND CRAVES TO BE ABUSED.” Athenia shaking her head as the older woman begins to show her full hand in an almost hypnotic way. Convinced that she is now totally in control of the nineteen year old. Athenia stroking her upper thigh, aroused… undeniably aroused by the unfolding scenario and yet at the same time that feeling of being ultimately disturbed by it. Disturbed by just something about it, deepening and deepening further. In the transcript it being obvious that fullcry cannot type but can speak her acknowledgement. MissMyndFuck not having that luxury. She having to type because she had not revealed herself to the younger woman. That COULD have been due to her apparent obsession with her own security and privacy. But increasingly it pointed to something more sinister. Fullcry didn’t even know what the woman looked like, or sounded like. The whole reveal being just a one way process, not a two way one. So clever though. So very clever. Getting into the girl’s mind so completely, so totally that she was following instructions and agreeing the way ahead without a second thought. The older woman using the girl’s high sexuality to control her. Then micro control her. If there had been a second thought there would have been alarm bells, but that just wasn’t the way it was. Nor would it be. Fullcry was being taken along on the ride. Fully immersed. Fully aroused by her subjugation. MMF: “GOOD GIRL. DONT CRY NOW THERE’S A GOOD GIRL. JUST BEGIN REMOVING THE PINS NOW… JUST BEGIN REMOVING THEM. FIRST FROM YOUR NIPPLES. LET THE BLOOD RUSH BACK INTO THEM.” A timeline pause as fullcry removes the nipple clothespins one at a time. All the time MissMyndFuck talking to her reassuring her. MMF: “YESSSSS YES I KNOW IT HURTS, CUNT. BUT THIS IS PLEASING ME. JUST REMEMBER AS YOU ARE SUFFERING THAT I AM PLEASED. DELICIOUSLY PLEASED. AND THAT I AM PLEASED IS MUCH, MUCH MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR SUFFERING. MMMM GOOD GIRL. GOOD CUNT.” MMF: “NOW… NOW TAKE THE CLITORIS CLOTHESPIN OFF. TAKE THAT OFF BUT AT THE SAME TIME, AS THE BLOOD RUNS BACK INTO IT, FLICK IT. FLICK THE CLITORIS AND AS THE FEELING COMES BACK INTO IT, PLEASURE YOURSELF, PLEASURE YOURSELF AND MAKE YOURSELF CUM. YES CUNT, YOUR MISTRESS AND OWNER IS GIVING YOU PERMISSION TO CUM. ENJOY CUNT. YOU DESERVE THE LITTLE TREAT.” An exceptionally long pause in the time stamps of the chat as MissMyndFuck simply enjoys the spectacle of her property performing for her in front of a web camera. Soaking up the pain and despair of the girl as she removes the pins. Claudette simply clenching her thighs, imagining the sight. She shouldn’t have been aroused by it, but her own high sexuality making it so. It was why she got involved with IRC and BonNet in the first place for God’s sakes. Oh this woman was so, so fucking good. Knowing the female anatomy so well. Using the knowledge to use and control the girl. That transcript coming to the end, eventually. MMF: “GOOD GOOD CUNT. NOW DO YOU UNDERSTAND ALL I HAVE SAID. YOUR NEW NAME. THE WAY AHEAD? DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE IN FOR A LIFE OF USE, AND ABUSE, FOR ‘MY’ PLEASURE?” fullcry most obviously panting in the aftermath of her self initiated orgasm. FC: “MMMM Y-YES, YES MISTRESS, CUNT UNDERSTANDS. CUNT UNDERSTANDS EVERYTHING.” Athenia pressing her own lips together. Rolling them in and very expertly clenching her thighs and holding. Bringing herself to an intense orgasm. Not noisy, or revealing. Just intense. That intensity only revealed through her deep, huge eyes. The intensity and focus concentrated and totally committed to that multiple orgasm. Athenia eventually pulling herself together. She had to read more. She had to find out more. Mixed feelings of a dread and yet also an excitement mingling and creating an inner conflict. And yet despite that conflict, Claudette was able to prioritise, and moralise. Excerpts From Private Message (PM) 3: Athenia had needed to take a break from reading the logs. She stood at the huge picture window that looked out over the City of London. It was like she could almost reach out and touch St Paul’s Cathedral dome it was so close. The company hadn’t long moved into the state-of-the-art offices on Cheapside. The building was brand new. Part of the brand new London that just so happened to be set in the oldest part of London. She had read somewhere that it was in this very vicinity that the great fire of London had started. Where this building now stood, used to be the Alan & Overy building. Alan & Overy being the huge, and I mean huge American law firm. That had been one of the few real old buildings left on Cheapside. Now even that was gone. There was a new sate-of-the-art shopping complex on the north side of Cheapside due to open at any time. The changes in this relatively small area alone astounding, and yet the history steeped and stacked remained an integral part. Claudette stretched, framed by the floor to ceiling window. In doing so she had once again emphasised her absolute statuesque beauty. She truly was an astonishing looking woman, made only more so by her style. Her sense of dress and, then her interests outside of work. Claudette had considered another cigarette. But that was it, she had only considered and then dismissed it. She was calm now. Thinking rationally and thinking calmly. She didn’t know where that need to orgasm had come from. Actually she had given up trying to find the source of that particular need years ago. Now there was more pressing matters on her mind. Who was fullcry for a start? And more to the point who was MissMyndFuck? Something was deeply unsettling Claudette about this whole thing and that feeling just would not go away. But it was funny really. The more that feeling in the pit of her stomach stirred and stirred, the more resolute that she became to get to the bottom of it. One nagging thought had begun to gnaw at the back of her mind and that was fullcry whoever she was might be in some kind of danger. She dismissed that being of the ‘immediate’ kind of danger simply because it seemed that MissMyndFuck was taking her on some kind of journey. One into a deeper kind of submission and degradation. Not a quick trip, but a long and protracted one. One that would feed the needs of the older woman on a long term basis. That fact so glaringly obvious from the logs of their chats. But also, the fact the this older woman, whoever the fuck she was, wasn’t only taking a girl called fullcry on this trip, but also several others. The file of logs was huge. It would take an age for Athenia to go over all the logs. But she might have to do that. If she was going to get to the bottom of it, that was what she would probably have to do. Claudette brushed down the front of the expensive, perfectly fitted blouse as she returned to her desk to the open MacBook Pro. It was one of that last batch of logs really that confirmed to her that all was not as it seemed. All could not have been as it seemed. That it was NOT an IRC role-play that was taking place. Claudette had the habit of brushing herself down like that. Imaginary dust, or imaginary hair. It probably would remain either a coincidence or a mystery how that imaginary bit of dust, or that imaginary hair always, but always managed to settle on the silk just over, or across the top of one nipple or both. There didn’t need to be an excuse. Claudette was a woman in the prime of her life, enjoying the prime of her life. She was what she was, despite some of her darker interests. Maybe even because of those darker aspects to her life, her sexuality was a constant thing. Bubbling just below the surface and with the occasional need to erupt. It was true that sometimes, just sometimes she had to force her latent sexuality to the back of her mind in order to concentrate on matters in hand. She looked at her watch, it was three a.m. God she had been at this for hours. But she wasn’t going to let this go. She couldn’t. Someone was taking the piss on a big big scale. Had it only been a taking the piss scenario she could maybe have laughed along with it. There had been loads of those over the years. Assholes who had come onto the server and tried it on in one or more of many ways. None had managed to do this for any length of time. MissMyndFuck wasn’t going to either. Not any more at least. Claudette, aka Athenia did make that silent resolution as she read excerpts from that last log again and for the umpteenth time. MMF: “SO CUNT, DONT YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO THANK YOUR OWNER AND MISTRESS FOR HMM?” FC: “OH YES MISTRESS, YES I DO.” Something in the ‘tone’ of what fullcry typed told of the stage of abandonment she had already reached. It was like nothing else mattered to her any more. It was like the sole focus of her life now was centred on her owner, her mistress, MissMyndFuck. MMF: “AND WHAT IS THAT CUNT? WHAT IS THAT YOU HAVE TO THANK YOUR OWNER FOR HMMM?” FC: “OH, MISTRESS FOR SENDING THAT MAN AROUND TO ME SO THAT HE COULD USE ME, AND REMIND ME WHAT I AM AND WHY I HAVE TO BE AN OWNED PIECE OF PROPERTY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.” MMF: “MMMM YES CUNT YES THAT’S RIGHT AND TELL ME, BEFORE YOU THANK YOUR OWNER FOR SENDING THIS MAN AROUND TO YOU, WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU? WHAT DID HE MAKE YOU DO, HMMMMM?” It was like MissMyndFuck was enjoying, in a way forcing fullcry to relive what had happened to her recently. This older woman was so clever. Everything so consensual. Using and manipulating the girl’s obvious highly sexed, even highly addictive personality to ensure that no laws were broken. Either UK laws, or international laws. Law agencies world wide would have a tough task on their hands to make anything stick to this woman. That was even if they could find out who she was or where she was. FC: “MISTRESS, HE USED ALL OF MY HOLES. FUCKED THEM AND REMINDED ME THAT IT WAS WHAT I WAS PUT ON THIS EARTH FOR. FOR THE PLEASURE OF PEOPLE LIKE HIM. AND HE BEAT ME SOME TOO. SLAPPED MY FACE. MY BREASTS. AND MY ASS AND THIGHS. HE SAID THAT YOU WANTED THAT. HE SAID THAT YOU WANTED HIM TO REMIND ME IN THE FLESH, WHO I WAS, WHAT I WAS AND THAT I EXISTED PRIMARILY FOR YOUR PLEASURE. THAT YOUR PLEASURE WAS PARAMOUNT. AND THAT USING ME AND BEATING ME IN THE WAY HE WAS DOING WAS WHAT YOU WANTED AND THAT I SHOULD MAKE SURE ALWAYS THAT YOU, MY OWNER AND MISTRESS ARE PLEASED.” MMF: “THAT IS ALL SO RIGHT CUNT. AND I AM PLEASED THAT YOU APPEAR TO UNDERSTAND IT FULLY. THAT YOU APPEAR TO FULLY AND COMLETELY UNDERSTAND YOUR NEW LIFE. AND THE WAY IT WILL BE FROM NOW ON. NOW THAT PLEASES ME SO MUCH CUNT. DO YOU KNOW THAT CUNT? YOUR MISTRESS, YOUR OWNER HAS NEVER BEEN MORE PLEASED THAN SHE IS RIGHT NOW. I AM SURE THAT WE ARE GOING TO GET ALONG JUST FINE.” There it was again. That deliberate pouring in of good vibes into fullcry. The reassuring her that her owner and mistress was happy with her. The single most important thing that existed in fullcry’s world right now – that her owner was happy with Cunt. Another deep deep concern was forming in the mind of Athenia. At first she dismissed it. Like it was too far fetched to be true. Like “nah… that couldn’t be it.” That thought had reared its head very early in Claudette’s investigation. But that had been just it. It had reared its head and she had dismissed it. But the further she delved. The further she dug, the more often that thought was popping back into her mind. And with the absolute knowledge that this MissMyndFuck was ‘sending around men’ to use and abuse fullcry, or that she was sending at least one man around to her to use and abuse her… the unthinkable, that thought that seemed to gain more credibility each and every time it reared its head, was that MissMyndFuck WAS that man who went round to use and abuse fullcry. And that somehow the young girl had swallowed the whole MissMyndFuck line, hook line and sinker. When that thought had first glanced across the bows of Claudette’s mind it had simply been too far fetched to be true. Oh yes Athenia KNEW that men pretended to be women all the time on the BonNet network. It was the bane of her life. Finding them and exposing them and kicking their asses off the network and banning them for life. But none, as far as she was aware had ever produced such a huge ‘illusion’. One that took in so many people. That MissMyndFuck was in fact a predatory male exploiting the vulnerabilities, the weakness and the sexualities of the victims that he picked very carefully. Very astutely. It was far fetched and it was unbelievable that such a thing could happen. Claudette still dismissed the thought as nonsense. Although, now and the more she thought and the more she read and found out about what was happening, the more her mind was coming round to the idea that really, in actual fact there was a deception so big and so expertly put together, alive and thriving on BonCom, that it would have to be brought down. Exposed, ended once and for all. Other little thoughts had begun to enter Athenia’s mind. Not simply ones that would see an end to the deception, if that is what it was, but also ones of teaching the mother-fucker a lesson she (or he) wouldn’t forget. A lot of mixed thoughts, mixed emotions tunnelling through the Super-Op around this time. In actual fact, it didn’t matter if MissMyndFuck was a male or female. He or she needed to be taken down. The deception ended but also, some kind of price paid for what she or he had been doing. Maybe it was more than one person. Maybe it was a couple. I mean all of that feminine knowledge that MissMyndFuck had. Men just didn’t know stuff like that. Did they?They just didn’t know which buttons to press when it really came to it. Did they? But MissMyndFuck did. She seemed to know every last nuance of every last nerve ending she needed to jangle in order to bring her latest ‘victim’ in deeper and deeper. Men just couldn’t do that? Something, just something in the male makeup stopped them from knowing really what made women tick. I mean what REALLY made them tick. These were the reasons that Athenia could with ease dismiss the idea that the perpetrator was in fact a man. That is, that she could at first easily dismiss it. But not so any longer. MMF: “NOW DONT YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY TO YOUR MISTRESS AND TO YOUR OWNER CUNT. DOESN’T CUNT NEED TO SHOW HER GRATITUDE. TO THANK HER OWNER HMMMMM?” FC: “YES MISTRESS… CUNT WANTS TO THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF HER HEART AND SOUL FOR SENDING THAT MAN AROUND AND ARRANGING TO HAVE HER THOROUGHLY AND COMPLETELY USED. THANK YOU SO SO MUCH MISTRESS AND OWNER. ALTHOUGH I DO FEEL A LITTLE GUILTY THAT I ACTUALLY ‘ENJOYED’ BEING USED LIKE THIS MISTRESS. IT FELT LIKE I WAS SERVING A PURPOSE AS WELL AS PLEASING THE SEX IN ME MISTRESS.” There it was again. Third person speak. Ultimate surrender. Athenia’s head moving slowly side to side. As though there was pity for the girl. The clearer it became that this was not simply a game of slave and mistress on the BonNet network, the clearer it become that it was indeed possible that this was a case of a man posing and taking advantage, the more sorry for the girl the Super-Op became. MMF: “GOOD GOOD CUNT. DELICIOUS. NOW THIS IS WHAT YOUR OWNER WANTS TO HEAR. THIS PLEASES ME CUNT. PLEASES ME A GREAT DEAL…….” Claudette had read all she needed to read. Her investigations simply had to move up a level. TWO: Discovery “Selena…. I don’t need to tell you what happens if they are not cleaned properly, do I?” Claudette had just sat forward in her chair a little and leaned forward and down to where her PA was licking clean her boots. At first she had simply leaned forward and watched. She had watched the girl, like maybe an owner would watch her pet. She liked the slavish way that Selena cleaned her boots. She always had. There was an eagerness there. An eagerness to please. On this occasion it was her boots. Although, it must be said that it was Selena who was responsible entirely for all of Claudette’s scrupulously clean footwear. That explained why, and how Claudette’s footwear was always, but ALWAYS so clean, so shiny. almanbahis yeni giriş Claudette could watch her, if truth be known, for hours. Just bobbing and weaving her head. Angling it this way and that way so that the flat of her tongue ran with the grain of the leather. She liked the way that her PA got right down low. So low that she couldn’t get any lower. So low that her breasts, either naked, or not, dragged on the floor as she carried out her cleaning duties. And so low that her own hair, also dragged on the floor. Claudette liked that kind of display in a slave. Claudette liked attention to detail. Meticulous and minute attention to detail. She liked to instil that same attention to detail in her slaves. It must be said that such attention to detail was an obsession that Claudette had. It was one of the reasons she had got to where she was. It was one of the reasons that once a girl became a slave of Claudette’s, it meant she was a slave for life. Owned for life. Claudette ran probably the biggest role-play network on the internet, but she also had a ‘real life’ and this was it. Claudette was a fetishist, and a sadist. In real life she could ‘live’ the dreams. She used IRC as a kind of research tool and a place where she could immerse in her deeper fantasies. It was what BonNet was created for. It was why it existed. “Mmmmmm no, Mistress, no You don’t need to tell me what happens if I fail in any way at all.” She liked that about Selena too. That she didn’t just know what happened if she didn’t clean her boots properly, she knew what would happen if she failed her in any way. And, if all eventualities were taken into consideration, there would be quite a few ways, or manners in which she could fail, if she wasn’t on-the-ball, or up-to-speed all of the time. Well, that is, she knew that she would be punished. She would never know exactly how she would be punished. Just that she would be punished in differing degrees of severity, depending on the level of failure and of course Claudette’s mood at any given time. Claudette had planted her spike heeled boots on the floor, quite wide apart, and one slightly in front of the other so that Selena had room to get around them with her head, and bend her neck, giving herself ample room with which to extend the flat of her tongue for the cleaning process. She had watched her for what seemed like an age, just the most casual smile curled onto her deep red lips. Then she had leaned forward a little more so that the weight of her breasts was in her lap. Just collecting a clump of Selena’s hair, she had tugged. She had tugged the hair, not hard. She didn’t need to do it hard. The tug was a token tug. A tug to send a message down the strands of hair to her girl’s mind. The tug just enough for Selena to know to lift, lift her tongue off the leather and lift her head to look up to her Mistress. “That’s right Selena, I don’t have to tell you what will happen, but I want you to tell me. You tell me what will happen if you don’t clean my boots properly?” Claudette didn’t raise her voice above a barely there, husky whisper. She didn’t need to. It was two a.m. and she was in her office on the sixteenth floor. The place was deserted and it was so quiet that she could hear every saliva dripping lick that her PA applied to the leather. She didn’t need to raise her voice for those reasons. But also, she didn’t need to raise her voice because Selena was well versed, well trained. She had been well trained for the last five years. She had been well trained ever since Claudette had found her, quite by accident on the BonNet network. Oh at that time she hadn’t been aware that it had been her own PA she had been talking to. More to the point, her PA hadn’t been aware that she had been spilling out all of her fantasies to her own boss in the very next office to her. Claudette had found out that it was in fact Selena, aka “morning dew” in a routine check on IP numbers connected to the network. The IP address signified an individual computer that was connected at any time. And what happened when more than one computer connected from the same network or company intranet was that they were allocated automatically, an IP address within a certain range. The company Claudette worked for was huge, and with literally thousands of computers, but the chances of anyone other than Claudette herself logging on to BonNet during a working day, were nil. Claudette’s system just flagged up that two PCs were connected through the company intranet. Obviously one was her own. And then there was the other one. Whose was that? It didn’t take much work to find out. Claudette simply used her own in house security features to track down the exact PC, and exact desk that PC was on. Hey presto! Selena, her very own PA. Selena also-known-as Morning_Dew. The first time she used the company intra-net to speak to Athenia was the day that she was caught. Banged to rights, in City speak. How fate had a wonderful way of (net)working. Claudette had then had many weeks ‘playing’ with Selena on BonNet before finally revealing herself, and taking the younger woman in hand. Oh what a picture Selena’s face had been that day. Normally she had the most delicious and succulent lips that were always generously coloured. But on this day, when Claudette had stood over her, put a hand lightly on the her shoulder as the PA had sat typing, and called her by her BonNet screen name, the poor girl almost fell off her chair. She had turned, looked up at Claudette and the colour had just drained out of her lips. It had seemed that the colour had just drained completely out of her entire, startlingly attractive face, through her lips. It wasn’t just that the colour had drained, but also, the lips had seemed to swell up, and the huge eyes had misted over. And yet at the same time, there was an undeniable feeling, just a sense getting to Claudette that a huge weight had been lifted off Selena’s shoulder. That she was ‘relieved’ that she had been ‘outed’. Shocked, yes that it was her boss. That shock went through to the core of her spine. But as that hand had rested on her shoulder, as Claudette had whispered the simple sentence, “Morning Dew – do you know the penalties of accessing adult chat rooms through the company intranet… hmmmmmm? But, its ok honey. Your secret is safe with me. We can come to an arrangement.” Just the way that Claudette had toyed with Selena was a hint, just the simplest and smallest hint as to what she was in fact capable of. Selena had let out a huge huge sigh. An audible sigh of utter relief. And from that day, from that minute, from that second, Claudette had begun training her, reeling her in. Controlling and managing her. Control and management were just a couple of Claudette’s own fetishes. Along with a whole long list of others. “If I fail Mistress… nothing will happen immediately. But eventually You will take me to Your Rubber Rooms, in Your basement.. and You will punish me. Punish me until you are satisfied that I have learnt a lesson. And that I will not fail, in that respect ever again Mistress.” Claudette loved to watch Selena speaking. She spoke so well. Was so well educated. Selena had been educated in fact at a public school. Had well-to-do parents and as a child had wanted for nothing. Consequently that came across in her voice. And yet, under these circumstances something else came across in her voice. Each and every word well spoken. Perfectly spoken in fact. And yet at the same time, each and every word literally dripping from her lips. And those huge pools of eyes, just looking, imploringly into the eyes of her Mistress like she meant every single word she said from the bottom of her soul. And she did, she truly did. “Hmmm that’s right Selena. That’s right. And you don’t want to go to my Rubber Rooms now, do you? At any time?” Claudette simply held the clump of Selena’s hair, not tight, just enough to keep the head in position. Like a guiding grip really. Not one that had to be enforced in any way. Just in a way that was enough. “No Mistress, no… this girl doesn’t want to ever visit the Rubber Rooms unless she has to. Unless her Mistress requires it. Unless it pleases Her.” Such submission, such abandonment in the voice and in the eyes of Selena. And she spoke as though from previous experience of those Rubber Rooms. The eyes of Selena, so pool like, so watery that tears almost dripped with every word she spoke. Claudette didn’t speak again. She simply smiled at the girl before guiding her head back down. Selena’s fleshy, wet tongue emerging from between her lips even before she was all the way down. The sound of the licks like music to Claudette’s ears. The tongue lapping up over the arch of the foot, and down around the back of the heel. And then seemingly impossibly lower as that tongue wrapped around each of the spiked stiletto heels. Cleaning them. Shining them. Scrupulously clean. Absolutely clean. Further cleaning up the less soiled main body of the tight calf leather. The boots so tight fitting to Claudette’s lower legs that she could feel every stroke of Selena’s tongue through the supple leather. Selena using her own saliva and her own tongue surface to clean her Mistress’s boots. Then swallowing and consuming any dirt that her tongue collected. Claudette clenched her thighs as she looked down on her slave. She simply adored the power she had over her PA. She clenched her thighs and at the same time she forced her pelvis forward on the chair. In doing that she was forcing her clitoris to pop out from under its own hood and press against the nylon crotch of her pantihose. She liked that feeling. She liked the feeling of her swollen clitoris pressing against the delicateness of her hose. She was well practised at that. She could also make herself orgasm by simply, very slightly twisting in the chair. Just rising one hip higher than the other, and then flicking a slight twist so that the clitoris rubbed against the nylon. So that the very tip of it just rubbed up against the nylon. The tip of Claudette’s clitoris was also the centre of her universe. She could invoke and provoke orgasms of the most intense variety at the barest, most imperceptible twitch of any muscle at that precise point. Just that point. The tip of he clitoris. And, against the sheerness of nylon, the orgasm would be immense. For now though, just the press of that tip to the nylon. That was enough as she watched Selena working her tongue. She liked that. Yes she liked that. A “ping” brought Claudette’s attention back to her laptop. Yes.. the information she had been waiting for had arrived via email. There had been many late nights and early mornings since she had begun the investigation into MissMyndFuck. A lot of the work she had been able to do herself. But some of the very advanced network stuff she simply didn’t know about and needed help. There were a number of sources and resources she could call on for that help and did. As the email had arrived, Selena was in the process of drying Claudette’s boots with her hair. She did that as slavishly as she licked and cleaned the boots. After hours in the licking and cleaning stage, she would spend equal time polishing the leather, using her own hair. Human hair proved a good polisher. Much better than any rag. Plus, there was what the very act of polishing someone else’s footwear with your own hair signified. It was quite a lowly thing. A lowly position for Selena to be in. Claudette curled her toes in the tight leather boots as she felt her girl polishing, and rubbing with her hair. There was an urgency about the polishing actions. Even a complete utter focus. Like one that she didn’t want to lose, or be distracted from. She did not want to miss one single bit of licked leather. Because Claudette would know. She would know. Later she would check her boots. Not especially putting herself out to do it. But just idly she would lean over her own lap, twist her feet this way then that way. Letting the light reflect off the leather. She looked at her footwear often because she loved her footwear. Like an obsession she loved her footwear. But she also wanted all of her shoes and boots to be absolutely clean. Perfectly clean. At any given time she was checking, idly checking for any imperfections in the polishing. If she found any. If she just saw one imperfection, like an unpolished, cloudy spot of saliva that had dried in to the leather, then she would have to make room in her diary for an extended visit to her Rubber Rooms with her girl. That is the Rubber Rooms in the basement of her own extensive property outside of the M25 London boundary. The grand-objective was to identify MissMyndFuck. That is, identify the person behind the screen name MissMyndFuck. Somewhere behind that name was a real person. And somewhere behind that real person was a reason for doing what she was doing. What was she doing? That was the question. Hiding behind a screen name. And, doing everything humanely possible to conceal her real identity. Going to unusually complex lengths to conceal her identity. Then with her security, at least in her own mind, assured, spending time in the rooms, literally handpicking room occupants so that she could get inside their heads. Once inside their heads, she was dominating them on a catastrophic level. Actually peeling back the layers. Something similar to creating a blank canvas. Then, once that blank canvas had been created, she began to paint on it. In the case of fullcry, she peeled back the layers and discovered emotional, and sexual turmoil. Reading the logs of those chats, in some places had been disturbing. But that was what MissMyndFuck did. She selected her ‘victims’ with the utmost care. And so ultimately, the reason for MissMyndFuck, doing what she was doing, was there in full detail, like technicolour glory, in those logs. Full explicit, obscene detail. To be doing what she was doing, she HAD to go to the extraordinary lengths that she did to conceal her identity. She simply had to do it. Claudette actually ‘got that’. She got it, but despised it in equal measures. What MissMyndFuck was doing and why, really had BEEN established. Claudette had needed help to work out the technicalities. And she got that help from a variety of on-line sources and contacts. It had to be found out HOW she was doing it so that the person behind that screen name could be traced and identified. With network and protocol knowledge it was really quite a simple matter of re-routing her connections through different servers around the world. It would ‘appear’ that she was logging in from all around the world when in fact, the woman, whoever she was, was probably in the same bedroom, or lounge, or suburban conservatory all the time. The reasoning behind this could, or more likely was two-fold. Firstly it would appear that she was a jet-setting, corporate type person simply indulging in her own ‘fantasies’. That illusion in itself held great allure for submissive types who were easily led. The vision was an attractive, erotic one in fantasies. The fact that she appeared to be this all powerful global Goddess with tentacles reaching worldwide was like an aphrodisiac to weaker individuals who would simply swallow the whole globe-trotting, perverse Mistress illusion hook line and sinker. Secondly, there was the more sinister reasoning of the identity protection and what she was really doing with that secrecy. There was the possibility that she WAS this high profile, powerful global woman with very real and sincere reasons to conceal her identity. The chat logs though pointed in a very different direction. A vastly more sinister one. But that was it. That was precisely it. It could be said that MissMyndFuck’s identity, location and motive(s) had to be discovered and understood, even if at the end of the day, it was for her own good. She may well have been genuine, sincere and was working through her own issues in the only way she knew how. That was one side of the coin. The sinister explanation was the other. This was a situation, or an issue that had to be got to the bottom of for all concerned. As that “ping” had pierced the early morning silence Selena was finishing off polishing Claudette’s boots and she was being guided away, by one booted foot. Not kicked away like an unwanted animal, or a stray bitch. But fairly gently. Just nudged and pushed away. The sole of the boot pressing directly into her cheek, directing her away. Such an action having the same effect of humiliation. And yet Selena, embracing the humiliation, tilting her head and pressing it against the boot as it guided her. Claudette purring as her ‘pet’ crawled away towards the bowl to take a drink. Selena in a slow crawl, a very slow almost feline crawl to the little metal pet bowl that had been set against the huge picture window sixteen floors up. Claudette loved setting the office out like this. With the building deserted except for security guards who patrolled every few hours. Even they didn’t come by when the knew an office was being worked in. Claudette always, but always set that water bowl against the window. Loved to see her pet framed in that window. The silhouette of her girl, her mature, big busted and on this occasion absolutely naked girl crawling then leaning, back dipped, huge nippled breasts grazing the floor beneath her as she lapped at the water. Behind her, the City coming to life for a new day. The City just waking up. And yet no-one from any of the neighbouring buildings being able to see the bizarre scene. That glass, of the one way variety. Claudette could see out. And so could her pet. Every so often, Selena would stop lapping at the water and look out. As she looked out she would stretch. Just dip her back a little and stretch. Extend one leg backwards slowly making Claudette purrrrrr at the sight. But no-one could see in through those windows. Discretion was assured. But from Claudette’s position, the scene was just delicious. Sometimes Selena would crawl around and lap at the bowl from different angles. She did this naturally, almost subconsciously except it wasn’t like that at all. She knew that her ‘owner’ Claudette liked to watch her from different angles. Liked to feast her eyes on what belonged to her. And this was the ideal opportunity to please her owner more. Move around the bowl lapping at it, sometimes noisily whilst Claudette poured her eyes over the raised ass and the dripping wet smooth hairless lips of the sex that was protruding back between her upper thighs. Claudette purred again. The work involved in investigating the electronic equivalent of a paper trail was immense. In this instance so many servers involved around not only the UK, but the world. This task would have been a near impossible one for just one person to carry out alone. Or at the very least it would have been month upon month of painstaking work. Many hours and many set-backs and hurdles along the way. Thankfully, through BonNet Claudette had contacts around the world. There were Super-Ops around the world who could pour resources into this quite urgent matter. And were only pleased to do so. Once Claudette had explained her concerns about this particular matter, the wheels were put into motion. A group of Super-Ops located in different parts of the world all investigating their little bits of the world wide web, and then feeding their results to another Super-Op who collated and fed the results back to Claudette in London. Once one looked more closely a pattern emerged. That is a pattern of IP addresses. A pattern of ISPs. A pattern of server locations. A huge complex pattern of the deceit required for MissMyndFuck to pull this whole thing off. It just became impossible to think that a woman had created this huge ‘illusion’ just because she was a women with needs in the BDSM arena and that she wanted or needed to remain anonymous. It just seemed less and less like this was the case. As with any pattern there were repeated elements. Elements that cropped up repeatedly throughout the process. There were a scattering of IP address for instance. Sometimes random ones that cropped up. But also, that one constant IP address. That was the IP address that belonged to MissMyndFuck’s computer. Most obviously it was a lap-top. MissMyndFuck connected from just one lap-top only. She didn’t spread herself around a host of machines. Too risky that way. Computers held electronic paper trails themselves. It was pretty obvious that this was a machine that was with this woman constantly. That she practically guarded it with her life. The other IP addresses were mostly random ones, ones that were allocated to the different servers at different times depending on log-in times. Then there were the huge amount of internet service providers (ISPs) around the world who were inadvertently involved in hosting this person at any given time. It wasn’t so much that they were hosting her, but that she was “hi-jacking” their services. At some point, either MissMyndFuck, or someone working with her, had hacked numerous ISP accounts in order to script the re-routing of her connection. Actually, the whole deception seemed so much more startling in audacity and complexity simply because the woman hadn’t been rumbled by any of the companies involved in over three years. That was the single most stunning thing about this whole mystery. This woman was more or less working this deception at will and with no recourse. Someone must have been connected to the IP addresses. Somewhere along the line, actual human beings were involved. MissMyndFuck had to be one of those human beings. Claudette could see names cropping up. It had taken some extra special help from those with abnormal access to electronic payment systems worldwide to begin to uncover names. The detection work had to begin at the widest end of the wedge. It had to start there in order for it to be narrowed down. The objective being, to narrow it down to the thinnest end of the wedge. Not really a wedge but the sharp end of a spike really. At the very tip of that spike would be one name. The name, the real name behind the screen persona of MissMyndFuck. Some names were repetitive and on further digging and further detective work were simply either connected to the companies running the servers, or the machine with that repetitive IP address linked to it. In most occurrences these names could be looked into discretely and discarded. Much like a process of elimination. The eventual goal was to get to the ONE name. “Oh this is getting better. At last its getting better.” Claudette was thinking out loud. She had been pouring over the minute details of the email she had received. Selena was curled up, in a human sized dog basket near the water bowl she had been lapping out of and was in a deep deep sleep. Claudette’s eyes had flicked to the curled naked form in the basket. She loved watching her pet sleep like that. The gentle rise and fall of her immense breasts as she breathed deeply through her sleep. The almost ‘expressionless’ expression of peace and contentment on her face. She was where she wanted to be, and nothing else mattered. She didn’t even stir as Claudette had at last started to make sense of all of the information she was given. It seem that the trail led back to Europe. Most log-ins by MissMyndFuck was taking place through servers located on the European mainland. Germany. Austria. France. Belgium. Holland. The spike was getting thinner. And once the initial unravelling had been done, the spike, as opposed to the wedge was getting thinner at a rate of knots. Consequently the list of names was narrowing. The initial painstaking work that had been essential, was beginning to pay dividends. At long last it seemed that there was a result just around the corner. Eventually, all of the investigations were coming together and concentrated in Europe. MissMyndFuck, not such a globe-trotter after all it seemed. One name, or actually two names became highlighted and dominant in the work of those looking into it. All names were forwarded to Claudette. She was heading the investigation and consequently had to filter through the names. Besides, it was just a possibility, no matter how slight, that a name would ring a bell. It would have made things so much easier if that had happened. If this person whoever she was was known to Claudette, either through BonNet or through her professional life. Obviously no such luck. But like her aids in this investigation, the names on the list were gradually being narrowed down. Eventually there were only two names. But it was at this point that things began to get disturbing yet again. Actually, Claudette’s stomach did several turns when she had at last, gone through the mountain of stuff and after reading this final email had come to the same conclusion that her team had. There was a female name and a male name. The female name was Alexandra Rothe. All of the accounts required to set up the huge network of deceit were in her name. ISP accounts all in the name of Ms Alexandra Rothe. Payment through electronic means, once again in the name of Ms Alexandra Rothe. All of the payment means available via the internet would state at some point whether the account holder was “verified”, or not. Verification meant that the address and bank details that the company held had been confirmed and verified. That in fact, Alexandra Rothe was who she said she was. However, in each and every case here, those accounts were “non-verified”. So yet another layer of deception and secretion had been uncovered. In normal circumstances this wouldn’t be an issue. One would suspect that the amount of non-verified accounts out there in cyber-space far outweighed the verified ones simply because, for instance, in order to make purchases through an online auction site, one would need to have one of these accounts. Many people would only use these accounts once and never use them again and therefore not go through the process of verification that was in most cases long winded and fraught with pitfalls. In this case though, and having all of the information to hand, Claudette could only worry just that little bit more. I guess ‘worry’ was an inappropriate word in connection with Claudette. It was simply an ‘issue’ that she had to resolve. An unverified account held by Alexandra Rothe rang alarm bells. Several unverified accounts only emphasised a deception that seemed to be expanding even as the very tip of that spike was being accessed. So Ms Alexandra Rothe appeared to be the illusive MissMyndFuck. That much was clear. Or so it seemed. Except it wasn’t quite as simple as that. It would have been so nice to have had it all wrapped up with this. Having that name, Ms Alexandra Rothe should have seen the end of the matter in sight. A name, a single name that could be investigated. Eventually that name, hopefully being attached to THAT IP address and THAT computer. It was true to an extent of course. Except that investigations into that name drew a blank. There was no such person. Firstly on a European search. Then one that included the United Kingdom. Then out of desperation, one worldwide. Oh, even a Google search spat up many instances of the name Alexandra Rothe which instigated more dead ended investigations. But officially and in the context of Claudette’s investigations, Alexandra Rothe didn’t exist. There was no such person. But that was just it, there was. It appeared that just as that tip of the spike was being reached, just as that light at the end of the tunnel was in sight, another dead end had been reached. Except, not quite. The unverified electronic payment accounts were the key. Those accounts were held in the name of a person that to all intents and purposes didn’t exist. However, whilst for anyone with the slightest internet knowledge would know that holding accounts in assumed names was fine, but somewhere along the line a real person had to exist. A real payment had to be made to the electronic payment companies. A bank account had to be used. A credit card. A debit card. Something, somewhere along the line had to be used by the person who was at the very tip of that spike. And that was it, that was the key. That was the very key to this investigation. That was where the second name came into the equation. All ISPs, all IPs, all servers, all countries and all names, investigated. No stone left unturned and eventually coming down to one name. Not MissMyndFuck. Not Alexandra Rothe. Just one name. Not a female name at all. “Mr Stephane DeLaurie…… gotcha you little Cunt.” Once again, Claudette thinking out aloud. The word “cunt” dripping out and over her scarlet lips like she was ejecting some kind of poison or something. This time to, it was with a little more volume, and this time Selena stirred in her basket. She opened her eyes dreamily and then stretched. Her long blonde hair cascading over the lip of the pet basket she was sleeping in. Her stunningly long legs seeming to unfold and then stretch forever as she woke from her deep deep sleep. Peering over the basket lip at Claudette, “Is everything alright Mistress.” Selena’s voice whispery, almost smoky in its tone and texture. Her long slender fingers just creeping up over the same lip of the basket and resting either side of her face. The perfectly manicured nails, deep red and catching the room lights. Her chin, also resting on that lip as she looked over, and almanbahis giriş up at her statuesque owner with nothing short of adoration and love. “Oh yes. Oh yes pet. Everything is just fine. Mighty fine. And do you know pet, its going to get even better.” Claudette looked over at Selena, watched her curl up again and fall into a kind of semi sleep before turning back to matters in hand. That light at the end of the tunnel was beginning to shine a little brighter. Later that same day… Claudette smiled to herself. She was on a roll. At last a single name to work on. A most bizarre twist though was the fact that Mr Stephane DeLaurie, as such did not exist. And, contrary to where the name pointed, neither was he French in orientation. Stephane DeLaurie was in fact Steven Laurie before having his name changed by deed pole. “Oh My God! This cannot be right, surely !!!?” Once again Claudette was thinking allowed. She had done a lot of that since embarking on this little project. It wasn’t something that she could exactly talk to someone else about. At least not anyone outside of her BonNet circle. Besides, where there had been the feelings, or the ‘need’ deep inside her to get to the bottom of the mystery known at MissMyndFuck, now that part of the matter was in the closing stages, stronger deeper feeling of anger were beginning to emerge. Had Alexandra Rothe not turned out to be Steven Laurie, had it actually turned out to be a fact that this was a woman who had covered her tracks for fear of her ‘hobbies’ and her deviant sexual nature being discovered, then Claudette would undoubtedly have gone about handling the next phase in a different manner. In a different way altogether. Probably, Claudette would have discreetly met the said Alexandra Rothe, explained to her that she had been rumbled and that she would have to find some other, less invasive and suspicious way of getting her jollies. Who knows they may have even ended up as friends. Close friends. Claudette could never say that she hadn’t become more than slightly moist during the hours and hours she had spent reading those chat logs. And because of this she did have something of an affinity with the person known as MissMyndFuck. The fact was that, with the discovery of Steven Laurie, her illusion had been broken. Not just broken but smashed wide open. She actually, in a mature, simmering kind of way, felt ‘cheated’. Almost defiled by this Steven Laurie person, whoever the fuck he was. And that was the next question that needed to be answered. Who the fuck was he? It didn’t take much digging. And the first thing found out totally astounded Claudette. The intense and complex deception that had taken place pointed to someone mature and with knowledge that the normal person in the street just could not have. It involved financial fraud and identity fraud and finally immoral fraud of the most invasive kind. All of those factors were right. Except the first. Steven Laurie was a ‘boy’ barely out of his teens. In fact, within the last week he had just had his twentieth birthday. A coincidence that didn’t escape Claudette was the fact that this boy spent his twentieth birthday with his cock slipping down inside fullcry’s throat. She knew this, from the chat logs she had spent endless hours pouring over. It had become evident that, the man ‘sent’ around to use fullcry, was indeed the one and only MissMyndFuck aka Alexandra Rothe aka Stephane DeLaurie aka Steven Laurie. Steven Laurie was, it turned out, the drop-out son of a well known politician. Or that should be ex-politician since he was now a Lord. Extremely high profile. Claudette couldn’t find out the reason for his dropping out. She hadn’t been interested. Not in the slightest. She was more than a little bubbling that this ‘little shit’ had caused her to be slightly damp between the thighs. The fact was that he had dropped out and then set about changing his name via deed-pole in the United Kingdom. Really he had dropped out without a trace. At least that was as far as his family was concerned. They simply had not wanted to know him. Claudette had thought that a little strange. He must have done something to warrant being ignored, or more or less disowned by his own family. He had dropped out yes. Lots of teenagers dropped out but still retained the full support of the family. He had dropped out of his own free will and accord. But the family had done nothing to stop him just disappearing into a black hole of anonymity. That puzzled Claudette but there was no pressing need for her to dig deeper on that. At least not yet. Steven had dropped out just before his seventeenth birthday. Almost immediately his deception had begun. A seriously mixed up dude with issues. Nothing more than a kid creating this huge deception for purely sexual reasons. Not just sexual reasons, but apparently because of advanced and quite twisted deviations from the normal. Maybe his family had found out about his strange tastes in sexual preferences? Who knows. As soon as he was eighteen, Steven Laurie had changed his name to Stephane DeLaurie by deed poll. Fuck.. where did THAT come from? There were all sorts of twists and turns that could be explored with regard to Stephane DeLaurie. But they weren’t important, not right at this time. Claudette was just about getting her head around the fact that she was dealing with a rampant, sexual predator of just twenty years old. Fuck! It was laughable. Or was it? When everything was taken into consideration, laughable wasn’t an appropriate word. The dropping out phase had lasted just long enough for Stephane to disappear from the radar. He had had a talent for computers from an early age. This seemed to have been overlooked, or eclipsed by whatever else was going on in his life. He eventually crept out from under the stone of drop-out status to secure a position with a small IT company operating outside London. It was whilst he was at this company that he fine tuned his deception and set everything up. It might have been the fact that he then spent the next two years moving from company to company that he avoided detection. Or that he hadn’t been flagged up. He had quite obviously used the company facilities in order to gain access to various networks that enabled him to create this huge on-line persona that was MissMyndFuck. There was no doubt either that Stephane DeLaurie was good at what he did. He had started at the bottom, as an IT assistant and then with each and every subsequent job move, he moved up the ladder. That was normal. For people to progress in that way. But this guy was so good at his job, and had become so well known within the greater London area, or in particular the City, that his current company had head-hunted him from his last job and enticed him with a salary that just wasn’t the normal for a ‘boy’ of his age. Stephane DeLaurie had successfully dropped-out and remerged. As far as Claudette could tell, and she could tell a lot from the information she had gained about this boy, he had no contact with his family, and apart from work was something of a loner. He went to work, and he went home. Home had become a £2million bachelor apartment in the Docklands area of London. There was no mortgage on the property, it had been purchased outright. In the shadow of 1 Canada Square, otherwise know as the Canary Wharf tower, the apartment existed across the entire top floor of a twenty storey building and with roof garden and balcony views across the City. There was no doubt that this guy was being well paid by the company that he worked for. But what IT professional could afford to purchase outright, a £2million pound property? It would be unheard of. More so for a twenty year old to do be able to do that. Only further digging into Stephane’s finances would reveal that he had secured many sizeable payments from individuals over quite an expanse of time. That was an avenue that had to be explored further because it did ring certain alarm bells within Claudette’s increasingly agitated mind. That further probing and further digging revealed that Stephane, aka MissMyndFuck had extorted funds out of more than a handful of his on-line victims. In fact so immense was his MissMyndFuck income that it actually dwarfed the really quite sizeable salary he was receiving from the company he worked for. It would be safe to say that this guy was simply using his day job as a cover. His on-line deception was paying huge dividends. That much was an understatement. Baring in mind he was only twenty years old, his ‘achievements’ could quite rightly be described as ‘staggering’. The fact the he blended in with the City high flyers meant that he kind of became ‘invisible’. The City was full of wealthy young people. Male and female. Claudette knew that. She had started as a runner on the floor of the stock exchange and had been notable simply because she had been only one of two female runners at that time. She had quickly risen through the ranks whilst the other girl had faded away. Claudette had eventually come to mergers and acquisitions simply because of the returns. It was true that Claudette had become something of a legend. Even an icon that other women looked up to. A prime example of what could be achieved in the previously male dominated world of high finance. She knew the City. She knew how it worked. The City knew her. And to think all the time, this little shit, this little slip of a twenty year old ‘boy’ had infiltrated not only the City, but her BonNet network. And to further think that he was operating pretty much right under her nose all of the time just, for a moment, made Claudette sink back in her chair, at a loss for words. This guy took the biscuit. He just took the biscuit. She was curious as to what he looked like. That is curious to the point that she had to know. The problem with twenty year olds who just so happened to be also megalomaniacs was they liked, to a certain degree at least, to show off. Maybe not show-off, but ‘be seen’. Of course Stephane DeLaurie had a FaceBook page. He had a Yahoo page and he even Twittered. . Of course he belonged to every social networking site that existed. A simple search on his name brought up all of those pages. Oh… of course, he did not introduce himself as Stephane DeLaurie – Deception Artist, Pervert, Extortionist, all-round fuck-wit. No, of course he didn’t do that. It was Stephane DeLaurie IT Professional. In fitting with the unfolding character this boy had become, he had more online friends than real-life friends. It was obvious just reading these pages that he didn’t mingle in the real world. He felt safer and was more effective from behind a computer screen. The computer was his weapon of choice. Oh yes, there was the odd foray into the real world. I mean, MissMyndFuck often sent ‘men’ around to give the girls who had come under her control a good seeing to. Except that it wasn’t a man, as such. It was a boy. Stephane DeLaurie himself. That was probably the only way that he could get his rock off in the real world. To have these girls, and in some cases, women, at his complete and utter mercy. He didn’t strike Claudette as the kind of guy who pursued normal relationships. A normal relationship would probably break him down into little tiny pieces. Claudette felt like applauding the boy. Fuck he was good. She had said that countless times about MissMyndFuck, when it WAS MissMyndFuck she was looking for. Now she was saying it about a twenty year old BOY who was a cunt of the biggest order and taking the piss in the most audacious way imaginable. She had to admit though, he was a good looking boy. Pretty even. From his profile pictures on the social network sites, he didn’t just look his age. He looked younger. Claudette spent a lot of time looking at the countless pictures he had put up of himself. Obviously very proud of his own looks. Very taken with himself. Oh yes she could believe that he took pride in his own looks. It wasn’t just in his grooming it was the way he posed for the pictures. There was not only a confidence in his looks, but an arrogance. Claudette spent time pouring over these pages. Like she was getting to know him. Like she was getting to know him intimately. She couldn’t help thinking that this guy, this Stephane DeLaurie was not only a good looking boy, a pretty boy… but he was also, at least from his photographs, more than a little effeminate. Somehow, it didn’t matter which of the hundreds of pictures she looked at, she came to the same conclusion. It could have been the long blondish hair. Or the fact that not only did he have no facial hair, but there didn’t appear to be any ability to grow any. Then there were the big eyes. The high cheekbones. The full lips. Claudette chuckled to herself. But then she considered, was she simply thinking this way because they were facts, or was she thinking this way because there was something more than a little anger simmering and increasing inside her about this person. She considered all for a few seconds and decided that both cases were probably true. Claudette had to meet this guy. But in the first instance she needed to do more homework on him. The deception was solved. The identity was solved. Now the man-boy-girl had to be explored in greater detail. Layers peeled back. Investigations made. Before Claudette made her move, before she met this little shit face to face she had to know EVERYTHING. Location…. Claudette’s country property. The weekends was when Claudette could usually relax. Chill. Let her hair down. The City only worked five days a week. Monday to Friday. At least it did for her. She had long since passed the stage where she had to work hours on end seven days a week. Claudette was so established that the wheels pretty much oiled themselves. These days she was raking in money for her company, and for herself for little more than clicking her mouse a few times a day. At almost forty one years old it was where she needed to be. Enjoying life. She could retire now and not even dent her bank balance by living off the interests her cash and investments made. She hadn’t quite become that kind of lady of leisure yet. She still needed a buzz. Still needed a challenge. “MMMM MMMMM AAHHHHH MMMMMM MMMMMMM.” Selena was naked except for a pair of self supporting stockings and high heeled shoes. She looked more than a little unkempt because one of the stockings had peeled down her leg and was just slipping over her knee. And yet the other remained fully encasing her stunningly long leg. The scene was a little decadent. Actually it was very decadent. In the middle of an otherwise bare room in the basement of the extensive property was a gynaecologists chair. Selena was laid back with her knees in the smooth, rubber covered stirrups. The stirrups and consequently Selena’s legs had been spread wide open. As wide as they could go really without causing any discomfort. Actually to look at Claudette’s PA, one would be quite surprised at how wide her legs would spread without causing even the slightest discomfort. It wasn’t the spread of her legs that was causing her to moan out loud. A short time before Claudette had slipped a bunch of vibrating ben-wah balls up inside Selena. There had been no need for lubrication. Selena, ever since becoming the property of Claudette had been in a permanent state of wetness and self lubrication. She was also hairless between the legs. Her sex smooth and totally hair free. Claudette had simply walked between her slave’s wide open legs and lightly stroked the labia, just encouraging the leaking juices to ebb and flow out. She had then used those juices to introduce the the string of vibrating balls one at a time. Pushing the first, then the second then the third, fourth and fifth balls up inside her. Making sure the cunt was closed after the insertion of the last ball and leaving just the string, used for retrieving the balls, hanging out. Claudette had enticingly licked her own fingers that had become coated with Selena’s juices, right in front of her PA. She liked to do little things like that. Little tokens in return for how her PA pleased her. Then she had stood back as the balls up inside her had vibrated and worked that inner flesh. Claudette knew what was happening inside Selena. She knew what those balls did. “Pet… I don’t mind you enjoying the balls. But if you cum, or if I see your clitoris even peeking out, you will be punished. Do I make myself clear sweetie?” It was a little game she played. It wasn’t even like Selena was secured or imobalised in any way other than her legs being suspended high and wide apart by the stirrups. It was a display of how well trained she was. Just her hands behind her head as she laid back in the leather covered chair. The balls working and vibrating away up inside her. Both she and Claudette knew all too well what the outcome would be. Claudette had simply retreated a little to the side, to read some documentation pertaining to the little shit known as Stephane DeLaurie. She did that in a casual way. There was no rush. It was Saturday and both her and Selena were locked away in the property until Monday morning. Claudette would be working on her PA and slave for the whole of that time. Selena could just reached down and rip the balls out of herself if they drove her too mad. Another sign of her devotion and her training. Even knowing the outcome. The balls working her and her labia beginning to contract and peel open. As though her sex had a life of its own. The roll and the pulsating of the sex flesh just happening and then becoming more and more with each passing minute. “MMMMMM MMM M M M M M AAAAAHHHHHH…..” The moans becoming more telling. Claudette blatantly ignoring her pet as the beads worked up inside Selena. Then even more casually commenting, “Don’t forget what I said pet… no cum… no clitoris.” Claudette speaking almost nonchalantly and yet knowing also what the outcome would be. In the event, it was the clitoris that made the appearance first. The balls up inside Selena working her to such an extent that the clitoris simply filled and swelled and then peeled itself from under the hood. There was no way that Selena could prevent that from happening. Really, a case, a prime example of the PA and pet being betrayed by her own body. The clitoris peeling out. Like it was ‘popping’ out and then there in full view of anyone who might look between those quite glorious legs. Once again, Claudette casually, ever so casually looking over. Tutting at the sight of her girl’s most intimate organ on display and then waiting for the inevitable to happen. “MMMMM OHHH GODDDDD MISTRESSSSSSSS I CANTTTT HELP ITTTTTTT I’M CUMMINGGGGGGGGGGG.” A deeper betrayal by her body as the intense orgasm began to roll through her at precisely the same time as that clitoris slid out. It was like that friction of the tight clitoris hood, sliding around the circumference of the clitoris right down to and around the base was the single cause of the orgasm. It wasn’t that way of course. The balls were feeding the clitoris and so they were playing their part in the betrayal. As the first wave of what was to be a multiple orgasm rolled through Selena, she squirted from her cunt. Her own produce squirting some feet in front of her and between her legs. Almost to the stiletto’d feet of Claudette who simply looked her girl deep in the eyes and smiled. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t interrupt the flow of the orgasm. She let it ride out, just watching her girl in the deepest throws of pure passion and love. Listened to the whimpering throws of undiluted pleasure as they drained the energy out of her girl. Selena limp in the chair, legs splayed, hairless smooth cunt dribbling as the balls continued to work inside her. Still working inside her as Claudette retrieved a long, dressage type whip from the stand in the corner. “EEEEEEEOWOWOWOOWWWWOWW OWWWWWWW.” Selena’s cries were real. And yet they were also accepting cries and whimpers. She had done wrong. She had done something that was told not to do and now she was paying the price. The orgasm had subsided, but the balls hadn’t been removed. They kept working the sexual flesh and consequently kept feeding the full, bloated clitoris. The clitoris could not, therefore slide back into its hood. Neither did Claudette want that to happen. In an almost effortless, but definite manner she set about just whipping said clitoris with the very end of the dressage whip. At the end of the dressage whip was a little thick leather tab that “flicked” deliciously. Such a flick would do not very much to any other area of flesh, but when applied to the very tip of a clitoris that had just been hyper-sensitised by an intense and multiple orgasm the effect was exquisite pain that dripped with extended pleasure. “Naughty… naughty… naughty… clitty…” Her words were spaced and timed with each flick of the whip. Consequently so were Selena’s whimpers and cries. With each slap of the leather whip pad, little splashes of sexual juice were catapulted into the air. Selena limp in the chair, simply accepting the punishment. A well trained pet. “Naughty…. naughty… naughty… orgasm…” Not a formal punishment session. Nor by any means a severe one. Just a little light relief for Claudette and yet another opportunity for Selena to show her devotion to her Mistress and Owner. The gynaecologist’s chair and indeed the room in which it was situated was simply for supplying pleasant distractions. For deeper, more meaningful, prolonged and protracted methods of inflicting torture and enforced pleasure, there were the sub-basement rooms of Claudette’s property. A complex of rooms that were below the level of basement. Fully equipped, sound proofed rooms that were a mix of Hell and Heaven. Or perhaps somewhere in between. Most definitely somewhere beyond the normal world. Down there, the Rubber Rooms were where advanced BDSM and fetish activities took place. Deviances and perversions, not for the feint hearted nor the novice. One would not want to be one of the ‘unfortunates’ down in that place. An unfortunate being someone on the business end of Claudette’s forays into the unexplored. Claudette like to explore. Liked to charter the unchartered. She liked to go where no-one had gone before. She liked a challenge. This was true in her professional life and it had brought her untold wealth and status. The same was true in her private life. Selena wasn’t one of Claudette’s ‘unfortunates’. She was Claudette’s pet. Claudette loved her. Cherished her. And the feelings were reciprocated. The games she played with Selena were not even on the same level as the ones that went on in that basement with other girls. What kept Selena on Claudette’s (sometimes) invisible leash, was the knowledge of what her Mistress and Owner was capable of. The potential of that basement, its contents and Claudette’s extensive mind and imagination, was immeasurable. Frightening even “Naughty… naughty… naughty… naughty girl.” Sure, Stephane DeLaurie had been clever. Was clever. But he was also incredibly stupid. The problem with people like him was that they got greedy. And it was inevitably their greed that culminated in their downfall. The fact that Stephane’s greed outweighed his cleverness, several fold was pretty astounding given what he had achieved. And therein lay the problem. With so much unchallenged success, and so much undiscovered, or unexposed deception occurring on a huge scale and over such a long period of time, complacency was bound to creep in. Older more life-experienced people were guilty of complacency all the time. Stephane DeLaurie’s age was a contributing factor to his. He thought he was untouchable. Thought that he could scour cyber-space and then suck his victims into the real life of his sexual abuse with no recourse or repayment. His older victims filled slightly different parameters. They not only had to be ‘with issues’ but they needed to be wealthy and with asset lists that could be stripped with ease by DeLaurie. He didn’t need to interrogate the women concerned, he simply had to get into their lives. Into their heads. Once he was where he needed to be, then he could turn the screw and simply fleece them. Its what he did. It was what he did well. Each of his wrong-doings fed each other and contributed to his downfall. If he had just found lonely older women with issues, he may never have been caught. His downfall was the fact that he was also a pervert of the highest order who sourced his younger ‘bits of fun’ on servers such as BonNet. If it hadn’t been for MissMyndFuck being flagged up, he may have gone on, and on for a long long time. The most simple fact was that, where it might have been next to impossible to pin him down for the sexual misadventures, once he had started to fleece older women of their life savings, their assets and their properties he was heading into the massive fraud arena. Serious fraud investigators would be interested in him. Insurance companies. Private investigators. When all was taken into consideration, DeLaurie, had the legal route for his downfall been taken, would be looking at a considerable stretch, detained at one of Her Majesty’s institutions. Claudette smiled to herself as the grief started to pile up without Stephane DeLaurie even knowing. Just when in reality he thought he was still on top of the pile and rising even higher, in actual fact he was about to come crashing down in a catastrophic way. Not in a way that any one person could ever imagine. All the time Claudette digging and uncovering, digging and uncovering. DeLaurie really was incredibly stupid. On top of everything else he had begun to skim off his company. Completing IT projects but re-routing electronic payments into his own account. Claudette just taking her time, making sure all the i’s were dotted and the t’s crossed before she made her move. At the time she made the call, she had everything she needed. There were no stones left to turn. Even as she made the call, her voice remained cool, calm and unruffled. “Ahhh Mr DeLaurie this is Claudette, from A&A in the City. I wanted to discuss the possibility of you doing some work for my company. We’ve been thinking of upgrading our servers and network worldwide and I’ve heard good things about you. Do you think we could meet some time?” Claudette never introduced herself with her surname. She didn’t need to. Her reputation preceded her. Just the name, the company name, and Claudette’s business like tone. She was very rarely, if at all turned down for a meeting. Her phone call was short, straight to the point. Stephane DeLaurie chilled back in his chair. He was watching the the stunt pilots over the river. The event had been the Red Bull Air Race. People came from all over the world to watch men in their little stunt planes, come close to death over Docklands, and pay a fortune for tickets in the process. Stephane DeLaurie had an unhindered view from the floor to ceiling lounge window. “I’d be delighted to meet you Claudette. You are a legend after all. Why don’t you see what you have free in your diary, and I will fit in with you. How does that sound?” Claudette’s mouth curled into a smile. He sounded as young as he looked. And yet he sounded very confident, very arrogant as well. He also sounded like he was sucking up. Whilst that kind of aggravated her, it also amused her. “That sounds like a plan. I’ll be in touch soon.” Claudette hung up the call without even waiting for his final farewell. She didn’t want him to get suspicious that she was trying to get him on some kind of hook after all. DeLaurie heard the call click to an end and his smile, when all was taken into consideration, was probably wider that Claudette’s. He kind of carried on the conversation, even though he knew that Claudette wasn’t on the other end. “… and I will look forward to it Claudette Tennison from A&A in the City. Claudette Tennison also-know-as Athenia from BonCom. I will look forward to it like you cannot imagine.” Stephane DeLaurie sat back in his recliner. Arms up,fingers interlaced behind his head as he watched the Red Bull series in full flow. His thoughts were written all across his smug face. “Does that Bitch really think she could do as much digging without me knowing about it? Ha Ha Ha… my biggest pay-day yet… stupid, stupid Lesbian Bitch.” Stephane had known for some time that someone was digging into his past. Unfortunately he didn’t know the extent of the turmoil he was about to be embroiled in. Or who it was that had instigated it. Claudette’s name had come up quite by accident and then he had done a little digging himself. He hadn’t achieved what he had achieved without some street nous after all. The problem was that his stupidity was extended somewhat when he had only done a ‘little’ digging once Claudette’s name had cropped up. He should really have gone into it a lot more. His arrogance, stupidity and his complacency meant that his digging hadn’t gone anywhere near far enough. He still thought he was untouchable. He had got away with so much for so long, that he really thought that this power bitch from the City, this Claudette lesbian bitch was playing in water that was out of her depth. Overall it was a simple display of what he really thought of women in general. And how he had no respect for them. None whatsoever. Stephane was the one playing out of his depths. Stephane DeLaurie was about to enter a traumatic time in his relatively young life. That, in itself probably was a drastic understatement. Stephane DeLaurie, at some time in the very near future, would, on several occasions, wish he was dead.

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