I'll finally meet him today. And I am all prepared.
This creepy blackmailer who calls himself "Master Red" has been demanding my attention for weeks. He is some sort of a tech geek who knows his way around a computer. He first acquired some of my revealing private photos and videos by hacking into my Instagram account, and then used them to produce a highly convincing deep fake clip, showing me and two other women serving an old man like a harem of concubines. The man in the video, at least twice my age, sits on a sofa with a silk bathrobe while the three women, all naked save for a black leather choker on each of their necks, work on different spots of his penis with their attentive tongues.
Of course, if I dig hard enough, I can probably find the original porn Red sourced from and prove his video of mine is fake. But what's the point? If that video is published, trying to clear my name will only invite more people to watch it.
I pretended to ignore his threats for two weeks, but today he finally texted me an ultimatum: "Ready or not, I will claim my ransom tonight. You must open the door when I knock." He had already found my address.
"How do you know there won't be police waiting for you here."
"If you weren't at least a little aroused by that video, you'd have blocked me by now."
"Maybe I'm waiting for the right moment to entrap you."
"You're certainly not. I do my homework. You are not the strategic type."
More than the video itself, his ability to read me like an FBI profiler gives me the chills, like he was already inside me and any struggling would only exacerbate the friction.
Not knowing exactly what time he will be here, I already paced my studio apartment for at least an hour, unable to do anything useful except for wiping the table and the counter one more time. The room is so neat right now it almost looks like the dorm of a nun. I have no idea why I felt like tidying up for such an unholy occasion.
I have no money, at least not the amount a skilled tech person would find attractive, so what he wants from the blackmail is plain obvious. That harem video was not just a kompromat, but also an indication of what he wanted to turn me into. But it's still suspenseful why he chose me and exactly what terms he will lay out for my "payment". He must be grinning right now for whatever rough maneuver he plans to incur on my unsubstantial 5' 3" body.
Although I am the victim in this game, I refuse to be a passive player. I know what I need to do to maintain some degree of autonomy even in the face of my inevitable surrender.
At about 9 PM, I hear a series of unfamiliar footsteps in the hallway, followed by a brief pause and three knocks on the door. Then three more knocks when I hesitate to respond. I walk quietly to the door and look through the peephole.
The man on the other side has unremarkable facial features, which you can easily assign to a Tom, a John, a Gary, or a James. What makes him extra unpleasant is his complete lack of expressions. I won't be surprised if he turns out to be one of those liquid metal terminators. But more likely, he is just acting emotionless as a tactic of intimidation.
"Are you Red?"
"Yes."
I open the door while hiding behind it so he won't see me until he walks inside. When I close the door and stand in front of him, my right hand still on the doorknob, his robotic face shows a trace of startle. His mouth and eyes open wider and his body freezes for a split second.
Apparently, he did not expect me to be naked, let alone wearing a similar choker as in that fake video.
But he knows better than to lose his cool. He quickly withdraws any discernible expressions and says to me in a low, dispassionate voice, "I like your attire. Do you always receive your guests like this?"
I try to sound robotic too, but can't completely suppress the shaking. "I'm not in the illusion that you would let me keep anything on."
"You don't even bother with some symbolic resistance?"
"No. It would only give you the satisfaction of overpowering me."
"So, you took everything off and put on a cute dog collar, just to rob me of the fun of undressing you? No. I don't believe you hate me that much."
"Of course I hate you."
"Then why did you also shave yourself as smooth as a doll?" he says while looking at my cleanly shaved pubic area. "Did you want to rob me of the pleasure of being a damn barber?" He pauses and smells the air. "And what's that scent? Did you think I'd spray perfume all over you by force so you had to preempt that too?"
I don't have an answer to those questions. I just lower my eyes in silence and let him win the debate. He would be even more vindictive if he knew I had also applied a special lotion to make my skin more sensitive. But that's my little secret. He will find my body trembling at even the slightest touch, but he will never know why.
"Presenting yourself like this, aren't you afraid I'll take more pictures?"
"Won't be worse than what you sent me."
"We'll see about that." I thought he would use a phone, but he takes out a Canon digital camera with a sizable lens from his backpack. He came prepared. I bet he wants to capture every goosebump on my areolas. That thought makes me subconsciously stretch my shoulders backward so my breasts become more emphasized. I can feel the blood pressure around my nipples building up and see the already erect pinkish dots becoming visibly larger and rounder.
He seems intrigued and moves his lens even closer, probably leaving only my breasts in the frame. "Thanks for putting in the effort," he says. "I like your choice of nipple makeup."
I chose a subtle color and applied only a thin layer, in the hope that it would look like my natural pigment, but it didn't fool his trained eyes. Overwhelmed by shame, I try to attack back. "You must think you are funny."
"Still defiant? You see, you took every measure to make yourself a perfect toy for me, but then you talk like you hate my guts. Why?"
"Maybe I want to preserve some dignity."
"Oh, don't worry about that. You will have plenty of dignity from being a good submissive. A cleric would not feel ashamed kneeling to his god, right? In fact, he takes pride in it. That's what I want for you, little thing."
"I'm not religious. I don't know how to worship someone with pride."
"The learning process can be painful, but you'll get there," he says like a convincing teacher with great patience.
Well, if I have to get used to kneeling, I might as well start now. "Okay, I'll try," I say to him while dropping slowly onto my knees. I feel a gush of blood into my head, and my lotioned skin is covered with sweet warmth. I don't understand how anyone would find dignity in this posture. Nor do I care.
Maybe, just maybe, I lied about wanting to preserve dignity. Maybe I only acted like wanting it so he could humiliate me further by denying it. Maybe I was picking a fight that I knew I'd lose. Maybe I was playing hard-to-get just for him to prove how easy it was to bring me to my knees.
Seizing on my new posture, he raises his camera again. "Do you mind putting your arms behind you?"
I don't mind at all. I cross my arms behind me, each hand holding on to the elbow on the opposite side to give myself the least possible mobility.
After taking a few pictures of my front, he walks around me to take close-ups of my arms in the back. "You have a beautiful way to tie yourself up without a rope," he says approvingly while shooting from different angles.
"But on second thought, your arms will get tired holding on like that. Hmm, maybe a rope will help you relax."
"If it's not too much trouble."
"Not at all. I want you to feel comfortable while I have my way with you."
From his backpack, he whips out a thick, clean, and extra white rope that seems to be only suitable for the human body. For the first time, he puts his hands on me, but only to hold my arms still. He threads the rope around my two parallel forearms to bind them tightly together and ties each end of the rope around each of my elbows. I can tell he's experienced because the rope keeps my arms completely still without hurting them.
I want to make some comments about the rope but end up saying only two words, "thank you."
"It's a shame I only have a short rope with me. But if you behave well today, next time I'll tie you up more thoroughly."
"I'm not sure if I should look forward to that."
"Of course you should. Imagine keeping your legs split without having to strain your muscles. A delicate being like you deserves nothing less."
Looks like I have no choice but to behave.
"So much for small talk. Now we need to get down to business," he says while opening a notepad. I am perplexed by how easily he moves his attention from my surrendered body to a stack of notes.
"Firstly, we need to agree on the terms of our interactions," he says.
"Is that necessary? It's not like I have any bargaining power."
"There won't be bargaining, my dear. The terms I'm talking about are not mutual. They don't limit my behavior. They limit yours, and yours only. You don't want to accidentally defy me and make me publish those images, do you? You see, even when you're tied up, you can still say things I don't like to hear. I need to make sure that doesn't happen."
"What if I'm not worth your time? Shouldn't you do a test run first? Maybe you'll be disappointed and not want me anymore." I know it doesn't make sense. There's nothing about my body that could disappoint him. But I'll say anything to skip the boring lecture about his policy.
"I see," he says. "You think I should fuck you first and see if any of your openings is too loose or too tight?" He's apparently emboldened and escalating his insult.
But instead of protesting, I just nod and fight back tears of shame.
"Fine. I'll take your suggestion this time. But I'll set the agenda from now on."
I nod again.
"Given how well you prepared yourself," he says while taking off his pants, "I'm sure you have condoms in stock."
"No, I forgot..." I almost start panicking, but then I suddenly realize something. "But... it's one of my safe days. So you don't have to..."
He smiles at me as if I'm an ignorant child who's being too serious. "I was kidding, silly. I don't care about condoms. As your owner, breeding with you is well within my rights." he says while gently petting the top of my head, his hot red erection resting on my shoulder. It looks like he will never use condoms with me. That can certainly pose a long-term problem, but right now all I can think about is what will happen to me in the next few minutes.
I know he won't be able to take me while I'm kneeling. So I stand up, walk over to my neatly made twin bed, and wait for him to tell me which side I should lie on.
"Here." He points at my desk instead with his chin.
The desk is neat too, but there are a few books and a closed laptop on the desk taking up most of the surface. I can't do anything about them with my arms still tied in the back. I suppose he will just sweep everything to the ground and put me on the desk, which, for a moment, makes me worry about my laptop. It's the most expensive thing I own, given that I no longer own my body.
It turns out he doesn't care about the items. The moment I step next to the desk, he quickly grabs the back of my neck and pushes my upper body down toward the surface of the desk. Without my hands, I can't stop my body from falling. My breasts crash onto the cover of the laptop, which, fortunately, softens the landing of my forehead on one of the books. It doesn't hurt, but the ruthless motion drives tears out of me.
"Oh, I forgot something." He withdraws his hand from me and starts setting up his camera on a nearby counter so it can film his subjugation of me. The material of the laptop feels cold and hard against my breasts, making me tremble harder than I already was, but I decide to stay put and wait. Somehow it feels like the right thing to do. Maybe I want to show him I know the rules without him lecturing me.
