I saw her profile while browsing one day. She was 18, and still in high school. She still lived with her parents, but had dreams about slavery and being used like a slave for years. She was finally old enough to do it for real, and was looking to disappear from the world, to be taken in as a slave to serve out the rest of her life; no chance at escape, no choice but to take what she was given.
So I read her profile, and looked at her stats. She said she was a 5'5" and 110 lbs white girl located only a couple hundred miles from me. I messaged her, nothing fancy or committal, just a friendly note of greeting and wishing to talk, and apparently it stuck out because I got a quick response back. Her name was Sue, and she was very polite and appreciated my polite email not demanding her to move in now.
We emailed back and forth for a couple weeks, where I got her to share about her life. She didn't have many friends, and didn't participate in many after school activities. The kids her age found her strange, and never wanted to get too close to her. Every day after school, she'd come home to an empty house. Her parents worked late, and she often went to bed without seeing them to say goodnight. She told me about her interest in slavery, how she longed for the day where she could be helpless before a strong master. Where her body would be used for his pleasure, where she'd be humiliated and abused. A place where the world forgot she existed, so she would be without hope but to accept her place as he deemed it.
Never while we emailed back and forth did I state I was interested in meeting her, nor did I ask if she'd want to enter into such a relationship with me. I let her reveal her story, and let myself gain a bit of her trust and confidence. It was then I asked for her mailing address, so I could send her a small gift. She gave it to me without question, and I told her to expect a package in the next week or two.
Finally, I had a chance I've never had before. I drove down to Wal-Mart and bought two of the pre-paid Go phones, as well as around 1000 minutes, paying with cash. I wanted a way to communicate with her privately that no one would know about in order to trace or track when she disappeared. None of my emails linked her to meeting me, so I should be safe from more then a few questions, if that.
I took great care in reducing any change of tainting the package I was to send to her with anything that would be able to be traced back to me, including hair and prints. I activated the phone wearing gloves, and placed it into a small box. I printed out a small letter from the public library so my personal printer wasn't linked, if the note were discovered. It was short, and read:
Take this phone and turn it on. Do not use it
to place any calls. Keep it on you. When it
rings, answer it. Do not email me before I
call.
I will contact you soon.
With all the contents in the box, I sealed it and went to the post office. I mailed it to the address she gave me, using a false return address and paying again with cash. After I got the tracking number and they put the package in the sorting bins, I walked away with butterflies flying all the way into my chest. I couldn't turn back now, not with things in motion. Anxiety filled me. I worried I slipped and didn't catch the clues that she was one of those FBI Stings. That a hair fell into the box and I missed catching it. That my prints were captured in the glue of the tape. But, things were in motion, and there was nothing to do but wait and let it play out.
Paranoia got the best of me. I didn't even use my home computer to check the tracking status. Wednesday, after a couple days of waiting, I ran to the public library to see where the package was, and the estimated delivery date. The readout from the website said it wouldn't be delivered till the next Monday. More days of waiting and anxiety gnawing at me. The weekend went by slowly, while I paced around contemplating everything that could go wrong, and how bad it might get.
Finally Monday came. Around mid-afternoon, I went to the library again to check the tracking status. Delivered! I sat there hoping she was who she said she was, and that she followed my directions. If she was what she said she wanted to be, she should. All I had to do was to take my Go phone and call her. But I couldn't do it somewhere public like the library.
I drove to the highway and went a few miles to the rest area. I parked there to make the initial phone call, thinking if it were a FBI sting, they wouldn't be able to triangulate the call to my house. Yes, I was paranoid, but when you were hoping and planning for what I was trying to do, it can pay to be paranoid. By now it was about 4:30 in the afternoon, well after she should have gotten home from school, seen the package, followed my instructions and be waiting with the phone for my call. I took two deep breaths, dialed the number for the Go phone I sent to her, and pressed the Call button.
After two rings, the other end picked up. A sweet young voice came through, excited and full of cheerful hope. "Hello, is that you?" she said. I replied and asked her a few questions while I swallowed my stomach back down. So far, everything was going well. She followed my directions, not like she had anyone to call anyways (as she put it). She hadn't told anyone about me either, as no one really talked to her anymore. Things were going well, and it was time to push her comfort zone.
I explained that the phone was to stay between me and her. It was my way of talking to her that no one else knew of, something special that we shared. Because it was something special between us, she wasn't to call anyone or give out the number to anyone. Anytime it rang, I would be calling and wanted to talk to her. I would call her, and she didn't need to call me. She took the explanation well, accepting it and adding her own little pieces to it, making it hers and owning the rules.
Then I had one last test. As I explained since now that we have the phone, we no longer needed emails to communicate. Not only that, I wanted anyone who came along and read the emails to think we were no longer talking, and asked her to humor me. I wanted her to type up one last email to me. I wanted her to pretend that I sent something absolutely nasty, disgusting and insulting to her in the package. I asked her to tell me that the present was unwanted and unaccepted, and that she threw it out. She was also to type that she never wanted to hear from me again. I told her to block me after she sent the email, so anyone that looked would think that I had blown it and she wanted nothing to do with me. She found the idea strange, but somewhat amusing, so she agreed to do it.
With that done, I told her how good of a girl she was being, and how she'd make a very pleasing slave for someone, someday. I complimented her on her voice, how I looked forward to hearing it soon, and that I'd contact her in the next couple days, so she should keep the phone on her at all times. I could practically hear her blushing over the phone as she stammered out thank-yous and brushing off the compliments. I reminded her to send that email immediately, and to trash everything but the phone. With that, I said goodbye, and hung up.
I turned off my phone and took out the battery. Still paranoid, I wasn't going to take any risks I didn't need to. I started my car and pulled out of the rest area, taking the next exit to turn around and head home. Relief was starting to set in, as everything seemed to be going well, and still nothing raised a flag that she was anything but what she said she was. As soon as I got home, I logged in to check my email, and to see if she followed my request. I was pleased when I found it as I expected. Like the special phone, she made the email her own too. She cursed at me, called me a sick perverted fuck. Told me that the used condom and Polaroid of it on my dick were the most disgusting things she's ever seen. She told me how she nearly vomited and that I belonged in hell and all sorts of other nasty things before saying she never wanted to talk to me again.
I read and smiled. She'd make me an excellent slave one day, and that day was coming soon. With that thought running through my head, I tried to reply to her email, to apologize for being so insulting. Stating how degrading and humiliating I thought it'd be to get that in the mail from a stranger, and telling her I was only trying to give her what I thought she wanted. Short, sweet, and to the point. I sent the email, and saw the bounce-back a moment later informing me that she had me blocked. Everything was working exactly as I wanted it to, at least so far.
I waited till Wednesday before I decided to call her again. This time, I drove across town to the Publix parking lot that didn't belong to the Publix down the street from me. At one point, she said she got out of school at 2:30, and was home by 3. I gave it a little more time, and around 3:15 I placed the call.
This time, it rung a dozen times before the automated operator telling me the mobile customer was unavailable. I was a little upset, I waited a few seconds and tried calling again. The phone rang once before she picked up, breathing heavily and apologizing. She said she was in the bathroom and couldn't get to the phone in time and begged me to forgive her. And in all her rambling, my anger disappeared into amusement. She was already trying to please me, and blustered when she felt she fell short. I chuckled over the phone while reassuring her that it was alright and okay and I wasn't upset about her missing the first call.