Logged On

[BadForm]

OOC: Wanted to retry one of my old threads...

IC:

Katheryn smiled as she said goodnight to her lover, BigHardDick. She knew she shouldn't be using the sex channels on IRC for pleasure, not as a 'faithfully' married wife, but then she shouldn't have to. With her husband gone on road trips for his computer firm three weeks out of the month, however, she was left with little choice. Still, she felt guilty about it. When they were together, he was a phenomenal lover, romantic, passionate and committed. Even when they were apart he called her regularly and made sure she had everything she wanted... except... when he was away he couldn't give her what she truly wanted. And that was why she was here.

Still, she was grateful to have such a wealthy and dedicated husband. As a woman who had grown up poor, the self-made businessman of her husband Sean ensured she would never have to face that poverty again.

But she was lonely. More so with her son and daughter recently left for college, children that had taken most of her time until they left, she had a huge hole in her life.

With a trill, an AIM window popped open in front of her. It was from someone she didn't know and so she assumed it was another porn advertisement and she was about to close it when she read what the message actually said.

The_Monitor: Katheryn, would you like to see the chatlog from your last session?

She looked at the screen again - she'd been given email addresses from a couple of her lovers and this did not match the name of any of them. Worry rising in her mind, she stared as the screen suddenly scrolled. 20 lines of text including the screaming orgasm she'd just typed with BigHardDick scrolled past her. At the bottom of which was her ip address. She stared numbly at the screen.

The cursor blinked, then.

The_Monitor: Would you like Sean to see the full chatlog?


OOC: Anyone wanna pick up the part of Katheryn. I'll leave Katheryn's description to you, but recall she has a son and daughter who just entered college - so no 21 year olds

 

[BadForm]

<bump>

 

[Arioso]

At first, Katheryn thought it was a prank. After all, she'd confessed once or twice to one of her online paramours a shy, private fantasy of being blackmailed into submitting to erotic torments.

But then her brain finally clicked. Katheryn...Sean....

This person knew her name -- and her husband's.

She'd scrupulously avoided using any real names, even with her most trusted online lovers. Her partners only ever knew her as 'butterfly', the handle she'd chosen when she'd started her online exploration. With her children away at college now, and her husband traveling more often than he was at home, the house had grown so empty. Katheryn had lulled herself into believing that this was a minor guilty pleasure, that it was about rediscovering who she was and allowing herself to grow and explore in certain neglected areas of her life.

Like her love life.

Sean was a good man...when he was around. A good provider, for which Katheryn was deeply grateful. And a very satisfying lover...on those increasingly rare occasions when she saw him anymore. But after months and months of loneliness, kicking about in a huge house that was just too big for the one of her, Katheryn had been unable to deny her needs.

Her online dalliances had been an escape. A fantasy. A chance to feel beautiful and sexy. True, Katheryn was in fairly good shape for a 42 year-old woman who had born and raised two children. Her strenuous attention to housekeeping and gardening, together with regular workouts at the gym, kept her relatively fit. Despite having nursed William and Grace, her breasts hadn't given over to sagging; they were ripe and firm. And even her hair had retained its bronze lustre, with only a few gray strands intermingled with her silky mane of reddish-brown. She was fortunate in having aged gracefully...but sometimes, she still needed to feel sexy. Katheryn thought she'd found the perfect outlet for her needs in a little harmless, online erotic chat, and even had a favorite, indigo silk nightgown with spaghetti straps and a slit up to mid-thigh that she liked to wear to make the sessions all the more real.

But now...now she felt tawdry. Cheap. Caught.

The_Monitor: Would you like Sean to see the full chatlog?

A chill ran down Katheryn's spine and for a few moments, she froze, unable to respond. The very words on the screen menaced her...a quiet, steady threat.

Eventually, she shook herself and swallowed the lump back down her throat. She couldn't cave so easily to someone out to play mindgames with her. For pity's sake, she was a mother of two! Raising children had given her plenty of experience with attempts at manipulation and mindgames -- most often where curfews had been concerned.

With trembling hands, she typed her response.

butterfly: Who are you?

An instant later, her anonymous nemesis repeated the question.

The_Monitor: Would you like Sean to see the full chatlog?

A sick, hollow pit formed in Katheryn's stomach. Her pulse quickening, she demanded more urgently:

butterfly: What do you want?

But she already knew.

The_Monitor: Would you like Sean to see the full chatlog?

Cold persistence. Refusal to recognize her questions at all. It left Katheryn rattled.

But she knew what this person wanted. There was only one thing that a middle-aged housewife like herself had to offer: her husband's sizeable bank accounts. Other than that, she was no more interesting or appealing than any other 42 year-old mother going through a minor identity crisis now that her kids were grown.

If Sean ever found out...he could easily divorce her without giving her so much as a cent. She'd be right back where she'd started: poor, and with a family that was in no position to help her.

With a heavy heart, and sober regrets for her foolishness in not having been more wary about the type of people she could have encountered online, Katheryn finally caved in.

butterfly: No, I would prefer he didn't. How much money do you want?

Her shoulders sagged as she watched the screen and waited for a reply. Gone was the delicious afterglow she'd gotten from this latest session. Instead of feeling sexy and decadent, Katheryn cringed at the sticky, gooey wetness of her own release coating her thighs -- a reminder of the damning evidence that dangled over her like a noose.

And in the back of her mind niggled a worrying thought: what if this person didn't ask for a single amount, but steadily drained her finances through repeated demands?

Katheryn suddenly felt very, very small...and alone.

 

[BadForm]

For interminable seconds, the cursor merely blinked. There was no response. Beneath the AIM window, the PC's clock churned its way to 11:23, 11:24. Still no response. Were it not for the evident threat, there would have been no reason to stay. Then, it came.

The_Monitor: Why do you people always assume it's about money?

For a long enough time for the fear to overcome the immediate suprise, no more words came. Just as Kathrynn lay her fingers on the keyboard to respond though, the next message came.

The_Monitor: Very well, if it is money you offer, let me calculate how much my silence is worth.

A Netscape screen opened on Kathrynn's computer. An url appeared in the address bar, pointing the browser to the bank she and her husband used. The browser window paged down to the account details, entering their account number and enough letters to match their password. As the overview of their credit line, checking and savings account appeared, another window popped open. Calculator. The numbers appeared one by one, adding together.

AIM trilled again.

The_Monitor: I want you to see that I am being fair and not merely selecting a random amount.

The_Monitor: No, don't type anything yet, I'm not finished.

The browser next opened up their accounts in various credit card companies, adding in the amount remaining before the cards were maxed out. Again, the browser shifted, opening a link to their stockbroker. Their shares were added into the mix. Another page, this time of their children's college funds, opened and was added in. Another: their retirement plans and details of the early cash-out options. The final page that opened was horrifying: the insurance company through which they had house, vehicle and her husband's life insurance. These were added into the amount in Calculator and a few seconds pause were provided so she could read the figure.

AIM sprang open once more.

The_Monitor: In total, I believe you can cover $1,392,005.78. If you get this to me today, then I will say no more about what you did. If you delay, there will be a 10% interest rate per day for the first week. Then I will take matters into my own hands.

Kathrynn moved to type immediately, but before she could reply, another message appeared.

The_Monitor: Of course, there is an alternative - another way of paying. Can you think what that might be, Kathrynn? I'm sure an intelligent woman like you has some ideas.

 

[Arioso]

What had begun as severe unease blossomed into full-scale panic. Nauseating panic that almost bordered on hysteria.

How did this person know everything about her finances?!! Even worse -- gained access to every single account that she and Sean held?

Katherynn felt almost as if she were backed against a wall in a dark alley with a knife pressed to her throat. Her anonymous, online "mugger" could ruin her entire life.

You people...he said "why do you people always?..." Oh sweet fucking hell, this was one of those predators that the FBI was always looking for -- a real pro who had done this before to other people...

A dazed calm settled over Katherynn, making her feel detached and a little hollow. In a sick way, it was almost liberating to be crushed into dust. The demand was so great that meeting it would result in the very thing she hoped to avoid.

butterfly: If I were to try to get you every last cent in all those accounts, it would be the same as telling my husband anyway. He'd want to know how and why all the money disappeared, and the truth would come out. So if that's what you want, you may as well do your worst. It's not my money to offer, it's his.

Numb...she was numb....

Her whole life...crumbling because of her careless explorations....the nice, stable, comfortable world she'd come to take for granted...threatened by a blinking cursor on a little screen...

Her throat felt dry. Katherynn swallowed a few times. She knew he was waiting for another answer. Although she felt nowhere near intelligent in her circumstances (stupid, stupid, HOW could she have been so STUPID as to get herself here?!!!), she had a few guesses as to what this person was driving at.

butterfly: Since you took an interest in my chatlog in the first place, and since it had to do with sex, I'm guessing that what you would say I have to offer is sex. But we both know that I can't read your mind, and we both know that at this point you're calling the shots. If you would like me to take up our time by guessing one thing after another, I will. Or, you can simply tell me what it is you want from me.

As she waited, already dreading her tormenor's next reply, Katherynn's eyes strayed to the wall where several pictures of her children hung. Remorse and shame pricked at her mercilessly and she winced.

How would her children look at her if they ever learned...? With pity? Disgust?

The first chance she got, she would call Grace and tell her...and tell her to do well in school. To make something of herself so she wouldn't ever be...what? Dependent?

...so she wouldn't ever get into a mess like her mother...

 

[BadForm]

butterfly: Since you took an interest in my chatlog in the first place, and since it had to do with sex, I'm guessing that what you would say I have to offer is sex. But we both know that I can't read your mind, and we both know that at this point you're calling the shots. If you would like me to take up our time by guessing one thing after another, I will. Or, you can simply tell me what it is you want from me.

Sometimes, the greatest tension is in the wait for a known problem to begin its effect. Sometimes, it isn't. What was said next was, perhaps, not what she had been expecting.

The_Monitor: Take up our time? But, Kathrynn, little butterfly, we have so much of that. A lifetime perhaps.

There was a pause of a few seconds, long enough for the tension of the implication to build but not long enough for her to take any significant and panicked action such as logging off.

The_Monitor: You are probably thinking of taking the risk of logging off and having me do whatever I wish, correct?

The_Monitor: Perhaps you think your husband will forgive your indiscretion. Perhaps you feel you can close your accounts and transfer the money in time to save most of it.

The_Monitor: Let me offer you another incentive.

Netscape reappeared. The browser paged over to a new page, one that took a while to load. When it did it showed a 2-person dorm room, many of the contents of which looked too familiar - the sports bag, the football shirt on the all-too-recognizable quilt, the crucifix.

The_Monitor: William's dorm room is rather untidy. Perhaps you should speak to him about it.

The_Monitor: He does seem to keep his crucifix rather prominently displayed above his bed though. Rather strange that with a daughter named Grace it should be your son who has a minor in theology, isn't it?

The_Monitor: Do you think little Willy would be so forgiving?

The threat was, of course, much deeper than just revealing her sordid secrets to her son. If The_Monitor knew where her son's room was, if The_Monitor was able even place a webcam in that room, what else could be done?

The_Monitor: Kathrynn - or would you prefer butterfly to keep up the illusion that the person who will be giving themselves over isn't your real self - you are a very beautiful woman.

The compliment would function as much as a taunt, a binding statement of all The_Monitor saw in her.

The_Monitor: You are being offered the chance to live your desires without guilt; telling yourself you would not be doing this were you not under pressure.

Each statement took a few seconds to come, the impending doom drawing the time out further.

The_Monitor: I doubt you will be asked to do anything that you have not at least thought of in the cold nights alone in your bed.

And the silent question was there: what, if it came to it, had she not at least thought about once.

The_Monitor: And to show it, I will begin with a question. What is your dearest fantasy?

 

[Arioso]

If he had wanted to persuade her to lower her guard or yield, he'd miscalculated in one rather significant thing.

She was, after all, a mother.

butterfly: DON'T YOU HURT HIM!!

Katherynn barely registered the response that was typed on her screen. Whether she was being chastised or cajoled, she had no idea. A veil had fallen across her vision, and she saw only one thing.

Someone, and not a well-intentioned someone, had access to her son's room. Even the implied menace to her secret evaporated. He'd gotten into William's room! He could do anything. Her child wasn't safe.

butterfly: That does it! I don't care what you do any more -- have fun ruining me, send it all to Sean, but heaven help you if you hurt him! I'll go to the police, and NO, I don't know whether my husband will forgive me or not, but I will not let you threaten my son! LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!

Of course, her response was far from rational, but the button that her tormentor had pushed manipulated her most irrational, deeply ingrained fears. If she couldn't protect her children...what use was she?

Eventually, somehow, the onscreen replies calmed her down. Whoever he was, the man could be a hostage negotiator or an international diplomat, because he managed not to let her explosion shut down the discussion completely, yet didn't cave or budge one inch. Astoundingly, he didn't seem angry...just firm.

Unfortunately for Katherynn, the outburst took its toll on her, physically and emotionally. She moaned in exhausted defeat as she felt the first, tell-tale signs of a migraine. It had been nearly a year since she'd had one. A combination of medications and dietary changes had done wonders for the one health problem that had plagued her since her college days, but intense emotions could still trigger them. And now her eyes were starting to throb with that sharp pain as an iron vise began to close around her skull.

The fight was rapidly draining out of her.

Although none of her fantasies seemed very "dear" any more, she finally answered his question, obediently sharing even more private details that could simply be twisted and used against her. Her writing, however, grew increasingly choppy. It hurt to look at the screen.

butterfly: My fantasies. i don't know. I'm sorry but it's hard to think of them now, honestly. Maybe being blindfolded and forced to stand naked while someone touches me however he wishes i don't know.

As Katherynn rubbed her temples and fought the urge to curl up in the fetal position, she read -- with some relief -- the reply from her anonymous correspondent. The tone of his comment suggested amusement with the disparity between the relatively tame "fantasy" she'd described and the graphic, downright obscene chatlog he'd seen.

She conceded the point, although her online "voice" continued deteriorating as the migraine hit her with unforgiving force and she desperately longed for her meds and a glass of water.

butterfly: ok ur right, it's only that i hv many fantasies, too many i guess. This is actually one of them although the real thing doesn't feel as good as the fantasy now that i'm here in it. But being blackmailed and forced to e-mail one fantasy a day, knowing i'll have to do them all for real later, even being tied up and fucked, that's a big fantasy too. Excuse me, may pls i take a min to get a glass of water i promise not logging off just need the water.

 

[BadForm]

Whatever response she was expecting, it was not the one she received. Almost as soon as she had typed the comment about her migraine a new message appeared.

The_Monitor: Kathrynn, you look unwell. Go to bed and get some rest.

The concern could seem ridiculous given the sick game that was being played, but it had offered what she needed. After another few seconds, The_Monitor spoke again. The words still rang with concern, at least at first.


The_Monitor: Ah yes, migraines. I had forgotten. Do you still have your medication? Take it, I do not wish you to suffer.

There was a brief pause and she began to reach for the mouse to shut down. Another message interrupted her.

The_Monitor: But when you go to bed, sleep naked and leave the bedside lamp on. It is not bright, it will not disturb you, but it will provide enough light to see you by.

The_Monitor: And I intend to be seeing a lot of you from now on Kathrynn - this is how you will sleep every night that your husband is not here.

The unstated part of the communication was obvious, The_Monitor could see what she was doing. Further, she could be seen in at least two rooms; the computer room for The_Monitor to notice she was ill and the bedroom. They were at opposite sides of the house, and she had the blinds closed, so it wasn't as if that could be an indication this was a neighbor. An answer appeared at once.

The_Monitor: Yes, Kathrynn, William is not the only one who has hidden cameras in their room. As you can tell, before I contacted you, you were investigated thoroughly.

If she wanted to say anything, she didn't have time. One more message appeared and then a statement that The_Monitor had gone offline.

The_Monitor: Go to sleep, Kathrynn. Be logged on at noon the day after tomorrow. That is when I will next speak to you.

 

[Arioso]

One question surged to the forefront of Katherynn's fatigued mind, but she never got the question to ask, for The_Monitor signed off before she could type even a simple, one-word query.

Why?

Why her? Why take the time to investigate someone like her -- especially if he wasn't really interested in her money? Why go to the expense and risk of breaking into her home...into William's room she shuddered...to place hidden cameras?

It was too much for her to ponder while her head was pounding. She shut down her computer and made her way to the bathroom where her supply of migraine meds was. A few pills and a draught of water later, and she was ready to retreat from her ordeal into the brief solace of sleep.

To sleep...perchance to dream?

As she slid out of her silky, elegant nightgown and let the soft fabric slide down her body to pool on the floor, Katherynn couldn't help wondering: where was the camera? And were there more than one?

In spite of the excruciating pain that threatened to split her skull, Katherynn was shocked to realize that the thought of being watched sparked a tiny flame of pleasure. For a fleeting moment, she was teased by the thought that The_Monitor, whoever he was, truly did find her desirable....that she kindled his lust. Her nipples hardened.

But almost immediately, she shied away from the idea. It would make her a pretty sick person to get pleasure out of this insane, twisted game.

Katherynn scooped her indigo nightgown up from the floor and carefully laid it in her handwashing basket. Then she turned out the all lights in her bedroom save one by her bed and lay down. For the first half hour or so, she could do no more than curl up on her side in a fetal position and cradle her head in her arms, her breathing labored but steady, as she waited for the meds to kick in.

Eventually, she was able to roll onto her back -- she figured he would want to see all of her -- and slowly relax her mind and body. Her breathing grew gentler, easier, the strain began to ease from her limbs, the chagrin faded from her face and her lips parted in that slight gesture of surrender to the end of another day.

To her surprise, although she felt very self-conscious about her body, aware of practically every inch of skin and flesh because she knew she was being watched, it actually felt...pleasant. Guiltily, Katherynn was forced to admit that it left a warm, delicious tingling between her legs, in her belly and all through her breasts to know that she was on display for an unseen, unknown man to look upon for his own enjoyment. Did seeing her move him at all? Was he touching himself? What was he thinking?

The thoughts and the erotic sensations that slowly took hold of her wrapped Katherynn in a sense of comfort as she drifted asleep, and she awoke in the morning grateful to discover that she'd actually slept well.

Her day was almost surreal in its normalcy. She tidied the house, she worked in her garden, and as she'd promised herself, she called Grace and William. Although it was difficult to speak to them with the weight of her secret pressing down on her, it nonetheless felt good to tell them things that she might not normally tell them. Moved by fear for her own future and regret at her mistakes, she let them both know how proud she was of them, and all the hopes she had for their self-discovery and happiness.

They were two of the best talks she'd ever had with her children. Thankfully, while both William and Grace asked her what had prompted her sudden need for soul-searching conversation, they accepted her explanation that she was simply going through "empty nest" syndrome and missed them both.

By the time she went out for her afternoon yoga class, she had almost shaken the dark pall of gloom from her mood.

Evening came, and Katherynn once again prepared for bed as she'd been instructed. She lay down in the nude and felt the same pleasant, sensual warmth that she'd felt the previous night wash over her. Without realizing what she was doing at first, her fingers instinctively began gliding over the planes, curves, and valleys of her flesh. But after a few minutes, she froze, suddenly aware of what The_Monitor could see her doing. She let her hands fall to her sides and kept them there until she fell asleep.

At noon the next day, she fired up her computer and logged on to her instant messaging account. She ignored the queries from BigHardDick and a few of her other cybersex partners and, with butterflies darting in her stomach, signaled her presence to The_Monitor.

butterfly: Hello? I'm here...

 

[BadForm]

OOC: As you can see, Arioso, there will be times I am forced to "control" Kathrynn more directly just as a way of getting things into the house etc. I will not do anything that seems out of character with her, as you have played her, when this happens, and will make sure these are as brief as possible. If you have any objections to anything I make her do, let me know and I'll change it.

IC:

She waited over three minutes without a response to come from The_Monitor. As Kathrynn looked at the screen further, she realized there was a time displayed next to the screen name. It suggested The_Monitor had been away from the keyboard for over 40 minutes. She wasn't late, she knew it, but as the time ticked by, The_Monitor was.

A UPS truck pulled up outside and the driver approached her door with a large box. Kathrynn hurried to take delivery, hoping not to make The_Monitor unhappy if she were away when he returned. The box seemed strange, rather than the normal brown cardboard this was wrapped in butterfly-covered paper. When she got back to the computer room, with the box still in her hand, there was a message on the screen.

The_Monitor: Good afternoon, butterfly. It is good that you arrived at the specified time.

The_Monitor was not angry, or so it seemed.

The_Monitor: You did, of course, leave without permission, but in this case that is acceptable.

The_Monitor: I see you have received a gift. Open it now.

She did. Inside were a few things. The most obvious was a full length black cloak that she could tell even without opening it was an ideal size for her and would likely cover her totally. When she removed this, she saw a pair of black pumps, flat with a good grip. Beneath these was a blindfold, this time in red with gold sparkles around the rim.

Finally, she found the most unusual item of all. It was a flag; not the stars and stripes but the kind of cute, brightly colored, childish flag that some people thought was fun. It had a large picture of a butterfly on it, the bright white of its wings overlayed against a blue sky. Some of her neighbors had started putting flags like this up outside their houses. Betty, at number 45, had one with a picture of a pretty looking sorceress, but everyone knew she was a Wiccan anyway so that was no surprise. The McCluskys over the road had a flag with a pair of lovebirds sitting on a branch on it. It matched their sickly (although that judgment was probably more jealousy) cutesy romantic marriage. And Sam Farnsby had a flag with a picture of a rooster on it, which she'd never understood until someone had told her his father was a farmer. The last one she'd seen was one Grace had bought a few weeks after her 18th birthday, which bore a teddy bear picture. Grace had always had a thing for stuffies, and had taken the flag and half her collection to college with her. They were all garish and ugly, but they all made sense for the people who owned them. It seemed unlikely anyone would understand why Kathrynn had a flag with a butterfly on.

The aim screen trilled a summons and she looked up at it again.

The_Monitor: UPS drivers are so unreliably, aren't they butterfly?

The_Monitor: I'd rather hoped that you would have received the gift yesterday. That way you could have had a day to consider what they meant.

The_Monitor: No matter we will discuss them later. For now I want to show you something.

Netscape popped open and when the page it went to finally displayed fully, she saw a video loop of her, lying in bed, playing with herself. From the angle of the video, she now knew where one of the cameras was - inside, or at least near, the light fitting in the ceiling. Given she had not seen it, it was probably small and hidden, and from what little Grace had explained to her when she'd tried to show an interest in Grace's geeky computer obsession, probably used some kind of radio or satellite broadcast or something.

The_Monitor: You should know that I have installed a cookie on this computer that allows me to bypass the passwording that is preventing anyone else from seeing this.

The_Monitor: You should also know that the camera in William's dorm room is similarly protected, and is turned off whenever anyone enters the room.

The_Monitor: And you should be able to work out that these facts can change should you ever fail, in any way, to comply with any instruction given by The_Monitor.

It seemed strange that any person would reference himself or herself in the third person like that, let alone someone as in control as The_Monitor. Before she had a chance to dwell on it however, another message appeared.

The_Monitor: That said, you have done well so far, butterfly. And so you have earned a reward for good behavior.

The_Monitor: I will offer you any one of three things at this point. You must make a selection, and it will be carried out.

The_Monitor: Firstly, you may select any one person you know and ask that any one thing happen to them. That excludes murder or a physical attack - you have not earned enough of a privilege to merit that yet.

The_Monitor: Secondly, you may request any gift of a sexual toy or sexually explicit clothing of any value up to $500.

The_Monitor: Finally, you may ask me any one question and I will answer it fully, within my capabilities.

For long seconds the cursor blinked away as the possibilities sparked through her mind.

The_Monitor: What will it be, butterfly. Tell me now.

 

[Arioso]

Katherynn had blinked at her screen in puzzlement for a few seconds when The_Monitor had first itemized her choices.

Murder? For mercy's sake, what kind of a person did he think she was?!!!

She didn't even hate HIM that much. Yet.

However, when he prompted her for her decision, it wasn't difficult to make. Two of the choices would involve him in her "real" life even more than he already was. He'd already intruded on her son's living quarters -- she wanted no part in encouraging him to have contact with anyone else she knew. And he'd already sent her a set of rather curious gifts -- she didn't need to ask for more things.

No, what she desired most were answers. But which of her many questions to ask?

Should she be direct? Simply ask him his name? Certainly, it would be the most useful information she could get -- knowing his identity would help if she wanted to go to the police or the FBI.

But that would be a naive hope. Katherynn highly doubted that he would offer her any information that would allow her to escape his control or prosecute him.

And there was another question that mattered to her almost as much as learning who he was.

Why her?

At his rather curt prompt, Katherynn leaned forward in her chair, as if she could channel her urgency...her need to understand....right through the keyboard as she typed. Her brow furrowed slightly and she pursed her lips as she tried to phrase her question as carefully and clearly as possible.

After all, it was always the vague question or wish that genies used to make a person wish she'd never rubbed the lamp.

butterfly: Thank you. I would like an answer, please. My question is: why are you spending your time and money on a very elaborate effort to make me do whatever you want?

She stopped herself there, remembering how cranky he'd gotten when she'd made assumptions of her own about the money. Besides, if she asked any more, it would come out in a steady flood of questions -- had she done something to him? Was this payback for someone she'd offended in the past? Did he know Sean? If he'd only stumbled across her by accident, why bother to set up such an elaborate scheme over somebody like her? Was it purely on a whim? Was she merely ONE woman out of dozens whom he was tormenting exactly like this right now? Did he belong to some group that did things like this?

But she kept it simple, and left the door open for him to answer her however he chose. It would actually help her to learn whether or not she could trust this weirdo at all. If he gave her an answer that really said nothing, that left her guessing, dangling on a thread like a helpless puppet, Katherynn would have a pretty clear indication that he was toying with her according to no clear set of rules...and that it might just be better for her to confess to Sean and be done with.

She watched the screen and waited.

 

[BadForm]

The reply came rapidly, and with disappointment.

The_Monitor: *SIGH* How very predictable. That is the choice most make for their first reward. I had hoped you would be original from what I had been told.

The_Monitor: However, you had the right to ask any question, and so I will answer.

What came next did not offer the kind of information she wanted.

The_Monitor: In the most absolute terms, I do not know why you were chosen.

Yet if the evasion was annoying, what came next was shocking.

The_Monitor: No - do not try to log off. I offered you a full answer. What I say is absolutely true, but that is because I cannot read the mind of another and your intake was chosen by one of the last people to go through transformation.

The_Monitor: I am not at liberty to say who that was, though I promise you in time you will know, but I think that person gave this to you as a gift.

The_Monitor: Such is not a rare reason for selecting someone for intake.

Intriguing, horrifying though that answer was, there was still more to come.

The_Monitor: Of course, I had to ensure that you were fitting material for transformation by The_Monitor.

And there was the third-person reference again. It had happened a couple of times now, enough to make it doubtful that it was a mere accident.

The_Monitor: That you are beautiful is, of course, irrelevant. Beauty is more thoroughly in the eye of the beholder than most people realize. That you have the right... mindset was essential.

It seemed The_Monitor could read the question that raised in her mind. Of course if it were true that many had asked that question before, then responses to the answers were probably predictable. The_Monitor carried on.

The_Monitor: There are no words in our current dictionary to describe what I mean. Some would call you a nymphomaniac for your extremely high sexual drive, a pervert for your fantasies or a slut for the way that you, as a married woman, enjoy net sex.

The_Monitor: The problem with these words is that they are all wrong. They place a negative judgment on a wonderfully positive and varied attitude. They are a mark of the puritanical influence on our culture and should be buried with the founding fathers.

The_Monitor: You do have the mindset of someone with intense and varied sexual desires that, with the right pressure, can be brought forward over the ridiculous training you have received in sexual morality.

The_Monitor: And so you are capable of transformation, of liberation.

For a while the monitor just blinked as though the answer that had been given were being carefully considered. Eventually, as Kathrynn tried to digest what had been said, another message came.

The_Monitor: But you may still be wondering what is in it for The_Monitor?

The_Monitor: Three things: It was a reward given to one of the last people to have achieved transformation; it is always a pleasure to liberate a person from the frigidity of our society; and, of course, we get you.

On the desk beside her the phone suddenly started ringing, startling her. She picked it up without even thinking, lost in all that had been said. As she said Hello, her daughters voice began gabbling in her ear.

"Mom, mom? Are you there? Mom, that was a weird call yesterday? What's going on? Is something wrong? You sounded weird! Mom?"

On the screen, a final question appeared.

The_Monitor: Who is on the phone, butterfly?

 

[Arioso]

A gift?!! Well fine and dandy, can I fucking return it?!!!

Katherynn felt cold...numb...as the response on the screen placed her situation in such a clinical, sterile light. So...she was a piece of equipment on an assembly line. The_Monitor had seized upon her to "process" her, as if sensuality or human passion could be achieved in via a patented system.

It was so mechanical. The voice onscreen wasn't even a tormentor any more...it was an impersonal technician, as bored with her and her unoriginal responses as might be a telemarketer who spent day in and day out sitting in a cubicle.

And to have the sudden, intense intrusion of her daughter's voice -- so alive and human -- singing in her ears? It felt a little surreal. Absently, Katherynn typed her response on screen while she listened to Grace's expression of concern.

butterfly: It's my daughter.

"I'm sorry, Grace, I didn't mean to alarm you. I was just feeling a little lonely by myself here at home. I called William, too," Katherynn explained gently. It felt good...so very good...to have a real, living connection. To speak about something real, about her own spirit, and about where Grace and William fit within her spirit...and to do so without being judged by someone who obviously held her in impatient contempt.

"Are you sure it's not something more?" Grace insisted, in that fiery tone of voice that Katherynn recognized as her daughter's I'm-going-to-dig-until-I-get-to-the-bottom-of-this voice. "I don't ever remember you wanting to talk about happiness and plans for the future like that -- almost like someone who didn't have much of a future left. You're not...sick are you? I mean, you haven't gotten any bad news from a doctor's exam?"

Katherynn laughed ruefully. Silently, she thought, No, sweetheart, the doctors haven't found anything wrong. But an anonymous assembly line worker expects to have me turned into a sexual Model T on a rather tidy time schedule.

However, she bit her tongue and simply assured her daughter, "I'm in perfect health. In fact, don't forget that my cholestorol still tests lower than yours, Miss Loves Ben & Jerry's." Grace giggled at the familiar taunt. Growing more thoughtful, Katherynn found herself adding a few words that were eerily close to the truth. "Sweetheart, with you and Will away from home now, I've just been struggling to find my own path again. And it hasn't been as easy as I'd thought, but then, it never is, is it? It's just made me more introspective, and I never stopped to think that it might make me come across as an oddball."

"Wow, mom...better be careful there, or you'll start sounding like my Philosophy professor," Grace teased her.

The two of them chatted for a few moments more, until Katherynn managed to end the call without raising any suspicion. She was, after all, still online with...

...with...

...with her assigned trainer? Her case worker?

She wondered if she had a number. Subject No. 4432-88?

With cool detachment, she typed,

butterfly: I apologize for the distraction. My daughter was worried. How do we continue now?

 

[BadForm]

There was an instant, and seemingly annoyed, response to what had just happened. Even the sound of the AIM trill appeared different, although that was probably more to do with Kathrynn's state of mind.

The_Monitor: I will NOT be interrupted like that again!

A second's internet silence, and then.

The_Monitor: butterfly, after we are done talking you will call Grace back. You will tell her exactly this: "I love you honey, but I need some privacy. Don't ask why, but I have to tell you not to call me here again unless instructed to do so." You will then hang up.

It was a bizarre request. It was hard to imagine any parent saying such a thing to their child. Then again, what that was happening was not bizarre? Still, it seemed The_Monitor understood how this would seem.

The_Monitor: You will find that, despite your reservations, Grace accepts the instruction. Trust me on this.

And as if to preempt another protest she might make, another message appeared.

The_Monitor: You are afraid that your children will be harmed. This is unlikely to be the case. Certainly, should you continue to obey and learn as well as you have been doing nothing untoward will happen to them.

The_Monitor: And please don't threaten me with the police again. Do you truly believe I they would believe you, or that you could get your computer to them in time to prove this had happened before its memory was wiped, before you had found yourself punished for such behavior and before you lost every cent you own in a sudden and remarkable donation to a random charity?

The_Monitor: Besides, you will find that very little is demanded of you that you have not considered, as I said. Once you open up you will find this an incredibly pleasant process.

After a short delay, in which she could guess, The_Monitor was calming down once more, another message came.

The_Monitor: Now, it is time to detail the uses to which you will put the gifts you received.

The_Monitor: You will put the flag up outside your front door once we are done talking. This is a mark of who you truly are and a minor demonstration of your obedience.

The_Monitor: The blindfold and the clothing are to fulfill your first fantasy.

Whether the next message took longer because it was longer, or whether it took longer to give her time to build up the anticipation and fear was questionable. When it came, it confirmed the worst, or best, of what she suspected.

The_Monitor: There is a park within a three minute walk from yo - Ronseck Park. Within that park is a lake. Around that lake are a lot of trees. The darkest area of the park is the little outcrop at the North end of the lake and there, by the edge of the water, is a circle of four oaks. This is where your fantasy will be fulfilled.

The_Monitor: You will go there tonight and arrive by 10pm. The clothing you will wear when you walk there will be the cloak and the pumps. This will give you enough cover that nobody will suspect you are naked beneath.

The_Monitor: Once you arrive you will put on the blindfold and drop the cloak.

The_Monitor: Then you will wait until your fantasy has been fulfilled.

The_Monitor: I guarantee that you will not be hurt. I have a way to ensure you are not disturbed.

The_Monitor: Only one person will come to you and you will let them do as they wish.

It was ridiculous, crazy even. The park was a public area. Yet there was no indication this was a joke. The_Monitor's next message seemed almost foolish after what had just been said.

The_Monitor: If you have any questions you may ask me now.

 

[Arioso]

At this point, Katherynn was truly tired of her online caseworker.

butterfly: No questions. You were clear.

Katherynn felt herself mentally and emotionally withdrawing into a detached shell. She wanted as little to do with the onscreen voice as possible. It appeared that this organization got its jollies off of having other people go through various rituals of compliance, and then expected "enjoyment" as well.

It sickened her.

You're just going to loooove having us threaten to crush you like an insignificant bug unless you OBEY, dear, trust us. Once you open up to being a mindless automaton who acts however prompted out of fear of reprisal, you'll feel just peachy.

The_Monitor permitted her to log off; she did.

She made the call as instructed, and as predicted, Grace seemed to accept her bizarrely worded request.

She put the flag out.

At 9:40 pm she stripped and put on the cloak and pumps.

She walked to the park. She found the grove of trees. The cloak came off.

She put on the blindfold, clenched her jaw, and waited.

Like a cog in a machine.

 

[BadForm]

<A stranger>

I watched her as she approached and then walked past me. She was so beautiful, and I so lucky. I'd seen her about town over the few months since I moved here and always wondered what she was like. I didn't know who she was, or where she lived but she had the look of someone like me, someone who was built of desire, of passion and of denial. Well, like I was then. Before...

I remembered the words on my screen that first morning.

The_Monitor: Good Morning Willis, Guess What - I Know What You Did Last Night!


It had been a shocking experience and the start of three weeks of pure hell. I was made to actually do all the embarrassing fantasies I'd been reliving over the internet for the last few years. How long had The_Monitor known about me? I had no idea. It had, however, only taken three weeks, less - 19 days, I could count the time almost to the minute - to train me to be... well, to be me. And now, every command from The_Monitor was like the gift of a kingdom of pleasure.

This morning, The_Monitor had contacted me again. One of their people wanted a stranger to caress her, to handle her body, to do everything they could to please her while she was blindfold and unable to identify them. I was so damn fortunate that The_Monitor had chosen me. I felt my love for him, her, them... whoever The_Monitor was grow.

The woman put on a blindfold and shucked off her cloak, standing there in wondrous glory. She seemed less than thrilled to be there, which told me that my assumption this was a gift to a member who'd been with them almost as long as me had been wrong. This woman was very new, and very brave to have shared something like this already. Would I have the joy of being her first encounter? The thought thrilled me even more. I would have to do my best - for both her and The_Monitor.

I stepped forward, licking my lips and approached her. She heard my footsteps and turned towards them, but did not remove the blindfold. I reached up a finger to her lips and breathed a soft shushing sound. Her soft neck shivered under my first kiss and I breathed a greeting softly enough for my voice to be unidentifiable.

"Hello. I am Bulldog. I am here to fulfill your fantasy."

 

[Arioso]

The trees were so fragrant that evening.

It was one of the first things Katherynn noticed once she'd secured the blindfold. Without her sight, her senses had heightened almost instantly.

And the earthy, fresh smell of trees was one of her favorites. It must have drizzled lightly earlier that evening.

The sound of footsteps alerted her to someone's presence, and Katherynn had felt her stomach lurch in momentary panic. It could be a mugger, a rapist, anyone...she was so stupidly vulnerable out here!

But before her instinctual self-defense could blossom into panic, a low voice reassured her...to a degree. At least it wasn't a random weirdo.

"Hello. I am Bulldog. I am here to fulfill your fantasy."

Katherynn said nothing, merely stood there, bracing herself. She'd been told to be here -- or else -- so here she was. The_Monitor hadn't said anything about being able to talk, so she opted to remain silent. The way her unseen companion introduced himself disturbed her a little. It irked her that this was being treated as if she were a guest at a hotel who'd ordered room service -- she hadn't asked for this. But something in his voice stirred a spark of insight.

He probably thinks he is bringing me what I ordered. This guy works for them. We're here for the same reason. Someone told us to show up and do this.

And she realized that it would be useless to vent her anger on another person who was caught up in this impersonal machinery. In the split-second that she came to that awareness, her body relaxed ever so slightly. That was when he touched her.

His hands ghosted so lightly over her shoulders and then down along her arms. Katherynn drew in a quivering breath and felt her nipples stiffen. Such a simple touch. No rushing toward the obvious -- the instant gratification of the clit or the breasts. Just a very gentle, slow exploration of her arms first, as if her invisible partner wanted to study her first.

No.

No...wanted to enjoy studying her.

It was another epiphany. A painful one...painful, yet dizzying in the way it wrenched her back to her own spirit, re-connected her with a sense of her self.

This was the difference. This was what made her hate that online caseworker so. The man standing so close to her now seemed to want to be touching her. There was something real, something human -- it felt like desire. The onscreen presence was more than just cool and detached. It expressed an almost clinical disdain for her. It was unimpressed with how unoriginal her thinking was...and she was simply one in a long series of cases who all asked the same questions. It was already bored with her.

Katherynn didn't realize how much she desperately needed to feel desired until a pair of hands stroked along her arms in silent reverence, all without her being able to see them. And all after being treated with...

...it wasn't even contempt, she realized. The online voice had also spoken, with equal detachment, about her qualities that it deemed positive. No, what had hurt so much had been the complete indifference. It had doused the very spark in her soul like a bucket of water tossed on a fire.

The man's hands continued their leisurely path over the velvety curves and hollows of her back, down to the deliciously sensitive patch of skin just above the swell of her buttocks. It never failed to make her shiver, and he let his hands linger there, as if delighted by the response he'd triggered.

When was the last time Sean had touched her with such fascination? Their lovemaking had grown so routine...he'd learned which buttons to push to get her aroused, and it was as if the rest of her had become irrelevant...

Immediately, Katherynn banished that thought from her mind. It was selfish.

And yet...it felt so good to be touched with such desire.

She didn't even realize that a soft moan of rapture slipped from her parted lips even before the man had gotten anywhere near her breasts or thighs.

The trees were so fragrant that evening. And suddenly, Katherynn was alive with the world.

 

[BadForm]

She was a self-contained contradiction. One second she froze as solid as an icicle. The next, she trembled like an autumn leaf. If I wasn't her first experience, I was one of them. That, along with my own newly built pleasure in the sensual as much as the sexual, was what slowed me down and made me take my time to explore her. If only she could realise how much pleasure would come to her if she let herself go.

I massaged her palm as I kissed my way down her arm, warming it, using my fingers to bring new life to her coldest extremeties. That was when I found her wedding ring. So, there was another reason for her inner conflict. She didn't want to upset her husband. I understood that. I still missed my Cheri, and she had found out very quickly what was going on. Then again, I wasn't very good at being discrete.

I remembered the day she left me now. It was strange. She hadn't seemed angry or even upset when I confessed what I'd been doing. She had simply said that our time together was over, that it was time to move on to someone else. With that, she had gathered her things and moved out. The_Monitor had proven a source of comfort after that, soothing me with conversation unlike any that had gone before while at the same time continuing to arouse my sensual side with further sexual instructions. Of course, I had later learned not all marriages ended...

I continued to work on the woman's body, exploring and savoring every inch of her beauty. She seemed to be responding more and more to my touch as well. That was good, The_Monitor had been right about her. She would benefit from learning to embrace her true self.

"Relax, beautiful one," I whispered softly as I began to move down her back. "What will happen will happen. It will not be a bad thing."

I heard her sighs deepen as I moved my lips over her legs, drawing on the flesh and gently nibbling the more sensitive areas. Had she never been loved before? That was too shocking a thought to contemplate, though I knew most men failed to learn to please a woman, to do so by respecting her, honoring her, finding every part of her was a seat of beauty. They missed so much.

Behind her knees was a sensitive spot for her. I let my fingers trail up her thighs slightly, feathering their way towards her sacred center without reaching it. At the same time, I used the tip of my tongue to draw a circle behind her knee, feeling he flinch then draw towards me. It was one of the greatest responses I had seen from her so far, but that did not mean I could not use my hands to continue exploring.

"You are so beautiful," I whispered and the still night air carried the slight sound upward. "So sensual and lovely."

I began to move upward again, towards the most delicate region of her body.

 

[Arioso]

His touch was magic.

It summoned a heat within her, like Aladdin rubbing the lamp and releasing the djinn in a column of smoke. Every inch of Katherynn's body tingled. Each flick of his tongue behind her knee, each brush of his fingertips on the velvety flesh of her inner thighs, flared in Katherynn's awareness as brightly as sunlight falling for the first time on the weakened eyes of a prisoner being led out of a cell.

Katherynn found herself eagerly anticipating each touch, excited by her helplessness to predict where she would be touched next or how she would be touched.

To her chagrin, yet also to her relief and utter amazement, this was exactly what she had always fantasized about -- even in her secret, private dreams which she hadn't roleplayed online. Indeed...it was better than her online fantasies.

Her core pulsed with yearning warmth when the man's fingers skirted coyly alongside her slit, hovering so near her humid cleft without stroking her there just yet. Katherynn sighed out a shuddering breath and inched her feet apart on the soft, grassy turf. Yes, it exposed her own desires, it was a clear signal, but why should she try to deny it any more? Although she hated all the manipulation that had goaded her to this point, she wanted this through and through.

Like moths darting around a flame, his fingers caressed the apex of her thighs and began to nudge her tender, nether lips, but he slid them away just as Katherynn's hopes soared and she thought he might finally dip a fingertip into the liquid desire pooling at her entrance. As his mouth gradually began kissing up her thigh from her knee, Katherynn let herself sway like the trees around her, whose leaves she could hear rustling in the breeze. Murmuring their encouragement.

And then...the sweet, sweet warmth of his breath flowed over her sex. So intimate. The essence of his living being, his inner heat, rushing between the delicate, swollen petals that flowered around her cunt. Katherynn wept for him, straight from her vulnerable center, a rich, dewy nectar of her powerful need. She could feel it even as it trickled down inside her, as well as the trembling drops that clung to her lips and coated the crease where her thighs met her loins.

Blindly, impulsively, Katherynn's fingers stretched out, seeking this invisible lover who was drawing her very soul to the surface. She couldn't find him. Was he naked as she was? Or clothed?

Both ideas jolted her with excitement and her nipples stood out bolt-hard from her breasts, wrinkling at each puffy, coral base.

"Please..." Katherynn gasped, breaking her silence. Any thought of whether or not she was free to speak fled her mind. If she caught hell for it tomorrow, she would worry about it then. "Please let me feel your tongue on my pussy. Touch me there..."

It was a delicious surrender, one that almost made Katherynn swoon with giddy joy. Though she didn't smile or laugh, the pleasure that bubbled in her chest relaxed her lips so that they parted in a steady sigh of delight. Here she was...naked in a public park...letting a strange man touch her and play with her body...her desire so open, so exposed...and it felt glorious!

Tomorrow, she would worry about the cold, cynical accounting of where she had obeyed and where she had transgressed what was permitted.

 

[BadForm]

Her questing fingers found my hair as I began to work on her most precious jewel. Her cunt. That was what I had called it, back in the old days. I'd been changed since then. In serving, I'd grown. The poetry within me had blossomed to embrace the world of the flesh, and my flesh had come to know its own poetry. Sure, I knew there were others who grew in an appreciation of savagery, but for an early encounter, I understood now why they chose me. Her jewel, her flower. The delicate and magical bean that grew under the water of my tongue.

I felt her tense as she begged again for release, for the touch of a velvet tongue among her satin folds. I knew she was afraid, but I knew she needed something to think on other than her fear. I moved in deeper, letting my tongue tickle its way deep into her and then pulling out, moving up again to suck on her bud. All the while, I let my arms caress the length of her, stroking up from her thighs to the lower part of her shoulders. It was the feathery touch of a finger, gently guiding, goading, that could draw a woman still closer to orgasm. Not simply the focussed pressure of the clitoral kiss, or the sanctified seductions of a tongue sliding through her slit. It was the awareness that every part of her body was constantly praised. It also let her feel the fabric of my jacket against her flesh, telling her I was clothed while she was so vulnerably and beautifully naked.

I watched her with my fingers, letting the trembles and shudders of her body guide my own movements. I drew her ever onwards, letting her get nearer and nearer to her orgasm, then pulling away. She grew wetter with the sweetest of the world's wines and my mouth watered. I only regretted the wording of the message I'd received. I was to touch her however I desired, and bring her pleasure.

One final time I took her along the path to pleasure, and I felt her need more insistently. She pushed herself into my face, reaching behind my head to pull me to her. So I did not hold back. I let my hand slide down to cup her ass and slowly slid a finger in deeper, letting it gently invade the rose within. I kept it light and shallow, not knowing her experience in that area. It was just enough to set her to a soft gasping as I felt her juices flow and her body shudder.

I used my hands to steady her and then stood before her as she came down from her peak. I planted one final kiss on her shivering lips and bid her farewell.

"I am leaving now. Count to one hundred and then you should go home. Please, before you go... remember to get dressed. You're guarded and protected, but even so..."

I turned and walked away. I could only hope that, some time in the future, I would meet this woman again. Perhaps then I would be given permission to do more than touch.

 

[Arioso]

Katheryn's body was a cascade of trembles as the unknown man whispered his parting instructions. It was all she could do to remain standing.

She heard him moving away and whispered a soft, "thank you," unsure of whether or not he heard her.

Her chest heaved as quivering lungs drew in deep breaths, yet the breathing did not truly steady her. Instead of calming down, as she usually did so quickly after sex with Sean, Katheryn felt agitated.

She'd been with another man. It wasn't sex, but she'd received pleasure from another man. She'd bared herself to someone other than her husband and let him bury his tongue and his fingers in the most intimate places on her body.

Elation and self-doubt warred within Katheryn as she finished counting to one hundred and slowly wrapped the cloak around her. When she removed the blindfold to begin her journey home, she felt a guilty flicker of disappointment at the fact that she was alone. Her eyes swept the area in a secret hope that she might catch a glimpse of the man who had touched her with such incredible insight, but he was gone.

And so there was nothing for her to do but return to her house.

Breathless.

Confused.

Her passion stirred yet sated like it hadn't been in a long time.

It wasn't yet midnight when Katheryn closed the front door behind her, but she was suddenly glad that The_Monitor had set the time for her next appointment at noon the next day. Right now, the idea of having to talk to that cool, indifferent online voice was unthinkable.

Katheryn literally felt pain, a bitter, hollow ache in her chest, at the fact that she owed such an incredible experience to such a cynical, unethical setup.

She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep right away. So she poured herself a small glass of cognac and settled onto the sofa in her living room to listen to some music. The Durufle Requiem, an enchanting work that she'd always found sublime, but tonight it moved her even more. Despite her best efforts to fight them back, tears began to spill from her eyes and she sniffed in sporadic, jerking gasps.

Her world had gone topsy-turvy.

It was another hour before Katheryn felt relaxed enough to go to bed. In her room, she slipped out of her low heels and cloak, then crawled into her large, king-sized bed, remembering to keep the bedside lamp on. Sleep came to her fairly swiftly, as did strange dreams that she didn't fully remember when she awakened. All she retained was a vague sense that she had been falling and thrashing about.

The morning was spent out in her back yard, pulling weeds that had sprung up in her herb garden and savoring the warm sun on her skin. At 11:45, she went inside, washed the dirt from her hands in the kitchen sink, and then turned toward her computer.

Her feet felt heavy. They didn't want to carry her over to the desk. But Katheryn forced herself there, step by step. Detachment. That would be her key to dealing with the online voice. Just answer its questions, take its instructions, and don't give it any reason to keep me around any longer than necessary. And maybe, somehow, I'll get through this.

Although part of her wondered, with no small amount of dread: but what if this never ended? So many things had suggested that once caught in this web, people didn't get out.

Swallowing, she logged on.

Once more, she announced her presence very simply and briefly.

butterfly: Hello, I'm here.

 

[BadForm]

The_Monitor: Good morning, butterfly.

The greeting was as plain and clinical as that of Hannibal Lechter to Clarise. And just like that greeting, it was from a twisted psyche to someone that psyche thought would make the world more "interesting". Even the friendly greeting was reminder that she was an experiement.

The_Monitor: I have spoken to Bulldog already. He tells me you did well last night, that you accepted and welcomed his every touch.

The_Monitor: He also tells me that you enjoyed yourself, but were also afraid.

The_Monitor: Fear is normal for your first time, but remember you will never receive a punishment that you have not earned.

The monitor blinked coldly as she waited for what would come next.

The_Monitor: You followed my command to the letter last night. If you are afraid that you overstepped the boundaries by touching or speaking do not be. I did not order you to be silent or to not touch.

The_Monitor: butterfly, you have earned another reward. I wish you to consider your reward as we speak, and tell me what it is at the end.

The_Monitor: You have three choices - that is the standard number. You may choose to ask a question, and that question will be answered as fully as possible. You may select a gift of up to $500 value. Or you may be given Bulldog's name, address, telephone number and e-mail.

There was a delay, perhaps in which she could consider her responses, but not long enough to decide. Soon, another window popped open. This was netscape and it took her to a vision of her sleeping in her bedroom. The camera date was last night. In speeded up motion, it showed her twisting and turning on the bed. A trill from AIM heralded another message.

The_Monitor: You seem to have slept very interestingly last night, butterfly. The next part I will play at regular speed and you can see just how interesting your sleeping pattern was.

The image slowed and showed her hands moving over her body. One rested on her breast, moving indistinctly as if playing with the nipple. The other travelled downwards, falling to her crotch where the fingers curled in. It was obviously a woman asleep; the motion was not sufficient to cause arousal, but it was enough to raise a question as to what she had been dreaming.

The_Monitor: I think last night must have been powerful for you, to make you sleep like this. Tell me what you experienced.

The_Monitor: And I trust you realize I mean the internal experience. Through understanding your responses I can direct your growth.

 

[Arioso]

Katheryn leaned back in her chair and covered her face with both hands, fanning the fingers apart over her eyes, as if she were peering through bars. This was something she hadn't expected, and it dashed all of her hopes that she could simply jump through a few hoops and be rid of the online voice for the day.

The last person...thing....in the world to whom she wanted to confide feelings she barely understood herself.

And damn him...her...it...for nixing her escape clause from the outset. No typing a clinical description of how wet Bulldog had made her, or how her nipples had responded.

The_Monitor: I am waiting, butterfly.

Damn...damn!

She lowered her hands from her face and rested them, palms flat, against the desk. Drawing in a deep breath, Katheryn tried to find some tiny, remote bit of strength within. This was uncomfortable...not to mention a little humiliating...almost like being summoned to the principal's office for passing notes during class and then being forced to read her own, childish fawning about how cute Ryan DelVecchio was.

A particularly embarrassing memory from sixth grade that she really didn't relish reliving now.

But a little mild self-consciousness was a small price to pay to keep her children from being harmed, or the family's bank accounts from being wiped out. Katheryn poised her fingers over the keyboard, pursed her soft lips in thought, and then tried to tame the tempest of emotions she'd felt last night by reducing them to words.

butterfly: It's difficult for me to describe all of it. The simple answer would be that I felt incredible, elated, and heartsick at the same time. Bulldog was...an artist. When I first took off the cloak, I felt so stiff, I was bracing myself just to endure. The way he touched me melted that away. I could almost believe he genuinely wanted to be touching me, and that felt so good. So powerful. And I couldn't deny I liked it, I wanted it. I wanted it so much.

In spite of herself, in spite of her firm dislike of the online voice, Katheryn felt her heart swell almost painfully as she fervently embraced every feeling from last night and held them tight, as if emotions could be trapped in jars like fireflies.

butterfly: But it stabbed at me to want that. Because I've always thought that I shouldn't go looking for that from anyone but...anyone but...Sean trusts me. And I've broken that. And that makes me a bad person.

Katheryn paused for a moment, knowing that there was something more, but she loathed to say it. There would be no way to say it without running the risk of offending The_Monitor and bringing some unknown, heartless punishment upon herself.

The_Monitor: Is that all, butterfly?

The final truth gnawed in her chest. With each breath, Katheryn swore she could almost feel it burrowing right up through her flesh, poised to burst from her throat whether she wanted to admit it or not. Unconsciously, she shrank in on herself, pressing her elbows to her sides as she continued her involuntary confession.

butterfly: No. It's not. It just upsets me to learn that I am every bit as predictable as I was told yesterday. That hurts. I try not to be arrogant, but some small part of me wants to feel special. Like I'm at least somebody. But I enjoyed the pleasure Bulldog gave me so much, so very, very much. I felt more sensual and sexual than I think I ever have, just standing there naked and letting him run his hands over me. I don't think it even occurred to me to be nervous about being in public, he won me over so well. He was so reverent, so...kind....I felt like a human being again, and even more, like a wild, sexual creature. That was what shaded the sweet with the bitter. All my old romantic images of passion as something mystical or a fire that burns differently in each person were shredded to pieces because I could experience something that powerful just by being inserted into some cynical, rationalized manufacturing process that has calculated outcomes. The idea that passion could be released by coercive conditioning...it sucks all the life out of the world. I hate this.

And I hate you, Katheryn thought silently, tilting her head back and blinking until she'd regained control. Her eyes burned, but after a few, deep breaths, she was able to finish.

butterfly: Last night did feel liberating. It was the most amazingly erotic encounter I've ever had. And now one of my sacred cows is dead. That feels awful.

The screen was silent for several moments, and Katheryn wondered if it was because The_Monitor qua Traffic Cop was jotting down her infractions, or if The_Monitor qua Psychoanalyst was conferring with Freud.

As she waited, however, Katheryn had to admit that she felt better. Calm. Filled with the same kind of peace she sometimes got after a very intense yoga class...or, now that she realized it, the steady, bone-deep peace that had warmed her after speaking to her children on the phone scarcely two days ago.

Already, she knew what her choice would be when they finally returned to the subject of her three options. She wanted to know who Bulldog was, and if it was permitted, meet him, or at least talk to him. He'd shown her such sensitivity and mute understanding...she needed to be able to talk to someone who knew what this was like.

And it bothered her slightly that she wasn't really thinking of asking him if escape were possible.

Only slightly, though.

What bothered her more...was that she wasn't bothered more....

 

[BadForm]

More silence was the only response from the computer. For over two minutes, she sat and waited for something to be said, some judgment be it good or bad, but in that time all she saw was a blinking cursor and previous words. Finally, when the tension was too much to bear, the response came.

The_Monitor: butterfly, have you ever seen an old master restored in an art gallery? I have. Let me explain the process.

The_Monitor: First, the old varnish and perhaps some of the old paint must be removed so that the restorer may access the damage.

The_Monitor: Then, the restorer must duplicate or replace the previous and lost work in such a way that the original texture, lines, colors, hues and varnish are visible again. Save that the new work is not the original, which has been lost to damage, but rather the restorer's duplication of what the original looked like.

The_Monitor: Yet, despite that restoration not being, in the most real sense, the original, it is every bit as vibrant and evocative as the original would have been (assuming, of course, the restoration was done well).

The_Monitor: Such restoration can only be carried out if the intent of the original master was obvious and readable despite the damage. Some paintings cannot, will not, be restored as the damage is sufficient to render them meaningless and without merit.

The_Monitor: Thus it can be said that it is only the predictable, logical and readable nature of the original that gives it the uniqueness and merit with which it is valued. It is only that, in the end, that allows it to be restored.

The_Monitor: I want you to consider that you are such a masterwork, that it is because your original nature is readable despite the ravages of our society, that makes you capable of being brought back to life as your true self.

The_Monitor: And I want you to consider that it is only by careful study that any restorer, whether of artwork or people, can learn to understand and predict the original. You have been studied.

The words sat on the screen, burning their imprint in her mind. Whether it would make a difference, The_Monitor seemed prepared to wait to see. There was more pressing business to hand.

The_Monitor: You say you hate this, but I do not believe that is true.

The_Monitor: You have said you enjoyed last night, despite the pain of the taboos you broke.

The_Monitor: I suggest that, more accurately, you hate me.

The words may have shocked her with the way she had been so easily read. If that were the case, the next would be even more of a suprise.

The_Monitor: That is not a problem. You may feel free to hate me, so long as you comply. All that matters is you learn, and you achieve transformation.

The_Monitor: Indeed, in some ways it is better that you hate me.

The_Monitor: After all, if we continue the analogy of a painting then I am not your owner or your audience but merely your restorer.

The_Monitor: It would make no sense for you to become attached to me.

There was another pause, as if The_Monitor was considering going further. Yet when the next words came, they were interrogative and led to more concerns for the future.

The_Monitor: And now, moving on... You have had time to consider my question of our first night. Tell me, what is your deepest, most arousing, fantasy of all?

 

[Arioso]

Katheryn furrowed her brow. How could she answer? She wasn't...even...sure...

butterfly: I don't know how to answer. There are so many. Do you mean for me just to pick one?

The_Monitor: No, I do not. And I think you do know, Katheryn. Yes, you have been most prolific in your online encounters. But have they not all had a theme?

A wary, slow realization crept into Katheryn's mind, foglike in its elusive chill. Yes, there was something, but she was afraid to admit it. Terrified, because it would change everything -- it would turn the kaleidescope and shift the perspective on her current situation in ways she didn't want to accept.

And it was not lost on her that The_Monitor had used her real name. This was more real than anything it had put her through yet. Katheryn's heart lurched, nearly taking her stomach with it.

This.

Wasn't a game.

At some point, she'd opened a door. Now, she felt it closing behind her.

A dull thud rattled the front door, momentarily jarring Katheryn out of her dazed trance. The paper boy. Always a little too zealous with the daily paper. Katheryn could swear she'd noticed a worn spot on the front door from where he'd repeatedly hurled the bundled news like a missile. Such a mundane distraction, but it had the odd effect of lifting Katheryn out of herself.

Almost numbly, she began to type. Almost numbly, because even as she succumbed to an awareness -- a confession -- about herself that she'd never fully admitted..or perhaps, never wanted to confront....warning sirens blared in her mind, screaming at her not to say it. Make something up! Anything!

butterfly: Yes. They have had a theme. One that would be too complicated for a single encounter, like the fantasy you arranged last night.

The_Monitor: Indeed. But I did not ask you for a fantasy that could be contained within any specified period. I asked you for your deepest, most arousing fantasy of all.

Katheryn nodded at the screen, not surprised by the response. He knew. God, he knew!

But...then...if he or they had been tracking her activity online, they would know the sites she'd visited. Ones where she'd taken the time to fill out personal profiles...preference lists...but then never had the courage so much as to enter the chat room. Ones with vast libraries she'd scoured for answers...clues....to what this need was that was driving her. But none of the articles had satisfied her.

butterfly: Yes, I know what you asked. But it's not just my deepest fantasy. It's my deepest fear. I'm afraid I'll lose myself and everything I care about.

The_Monitor: Tell me, Katheryn. You have to say it.

It was with more than a little humiliation that Katheryn finally admitted the truth, especially as she thought over her reactions and wildly shifting emotions of the past few days.

And it also felt shamefully selfish to admit.

butterfly: My deepest fantasy is that a man would find me so desirable, he would take me. Claim me utterly. Surround me until I couldn't resist. And bend me to his will, no matter how much I fought. He would be insatiable, yet gentle. Persistent. Never cruel for cruelty's sake. No matter how much I gave, he would want more. We would feed off each other like that, until it was so intense it would take us some place sublime. Some place that people try to get through drugs...or religious experiences. That is the fantasy I come back to, over and over again. The harem girl and the sultan. The ambitious attorney and her rival at another firm. The peasant woman and the manor lord. The pioneer woman and the rancher. The scenery changes, but the heart of the fantasy doesn't.

Curiously, although she'd just exposed her most intimate, most secret desire to someone that, yes, she still hated for the way he made her feel like a frog to be dissected, Katheryn felt herself breathe a little easier. Indeed, she had the sensation of someone who had been suffocating for months, years even, and who was gasping in the fresh air.

A number of insights lit her mind; candles flickering on an altar that cast a radiant glow where there had been obscurity, yet in other areas heightened the starkness of shadows.

She understood better now why Bulldog's touch had elecrified her so, as if she had been craving it without knowing it.

But Sean... the voice of loyalty chided her soberly.

Katheryn couldn't stop the thought from coming, however.

Sean hadn't made her feel precious or desired in a long, long time. She was the caretaker of his house. The one time she'd taken some initiative to try to cure her loneliness, and suggested that they exchange a few erotic e-mails during his long absences...he'd been uncomfortable with the idea.

Loyalty scolded her. Yes, his house, his nice, big house. You should be grateful for everything he's provided. Be content. There are millions of people who don't have it as good as you do.

And yet, she couldn't lie or pretend any more.

Katheryn had been suffocating under contentment.