Introduction

Brooke had recently been contemplating how perfect her life had become. She had a job that she loved, a wonderful young son and a husband who adored her. Our kidnapping ordeal seven years earlier was a faded memory. On this morning, her husband was out of town on a case assignment. She hustled to get breakfast for her son and get him on the way to school. Just as she was pushing him out the door, she noticed something and called out, "Wait! You forgot your lunch." Laughing at this oversight, she handed him the bag, kissed him and waved him off to the bus.

She was just about to head upstairs to get ready for work at my consulting firm when there was a hard knock at the door. Not expecting anyone, she was puzzled. Opening the door just a crack, she saw two burly, middle-aged men. As she started to push the door closed, she began, "I am sorry, but--."

The men burst through the door and into the house. One of them said politely, "You are Mrs. Jennings?" Stunned, Brooke nodded. "Well," the other man said, "We would just like to talk with you for a minute. Let's go sit down in the living room." Motioning to her to lead the way, they followed her. The two men sat on a couch and Brooke sat across from them.

One of the men had been carrying a briefcase. "Mrs. Jennings, you have a wonderful home and a wonderful family. A respected position in the community." Opening the briefcase, he produced a stack of photos. Laying them out on the coffee table, Brooke saw that they were the pictures she had taken during her time with her master. Shaking, she cupped her hands over her face and muttered, "Oh, dear God, no."

"Oh, yes," the man responded. Producing a sheet of paper, he added, "Also, there is the matter of this waiver form, which you voluntarily signed. No one made you pose here. Also, by the way, we have the videos that you did." Breathing heavily, Brooke felt that she might faint. The man continued, "Wouldn't it be terrible if this material got out? What would other parents at your son's school think? What about your husband's colleagues at the FBI? And fellow worshipers at your church? I mean, for Chrissake, you voluntarily posed here naked, shoving a dildo into yourself."

"Here is the deal," the second man piped in. "Our organization controls two clubs in the area. You work for us at our clubs and, provided you produce the income that we require, this material never sees the light of day. If you don't, well, you know..."

Brooke sat there silently, stunned. The first man jumped back in. "Our clubs are open until 2:00. We will be back for you tonight at 8:00. We know that your husband is out of town. This will give you time to get dinner for your son and put him to bed. You will be back in time to see him off to school. Now, you last worked with us seven years ago, You are a little older and you have had a child. Stand up." Brooke sat motionless. Angrily, he repeated, "I said to stand up."

Shaking, Brooke slowly rose from her chair. The man barked, "Take off your clothes. Show us your body." Hesitantly, she fumbled with the buttons on her shirt. Getting it off, she let it drop to her side. Loosening her jeans, she slid them down her legs and kicked them away. "Keep going," the man snapped. Biting her lip, she reached behind herself and unhooked her bra. Pulling it away, she let it fall to the floor. Standing there with her arms folded across her chest, she was told, "Now the panties." She pulled the panties down her legs and stepped out of them. Standing there naked with her arms folded across her body and her hands covering her crotch, one of the men ordered, "Put your arms at your side. Show us your body." Trying not to cry, she did as she was told.

As she stood there, the two men looked her up and down. "Very nice," one of them said. The other added, "Yes. She is still beautiful. We can make a lot of money with her."

As they got up to leave, one of them informed her, "You will still be billed as 'Princess.' We will have the same costume available for you." Making their way to the door, one turned and reminded her, "We will be back for you at 8:00. You will not have to go with us, but you know what happens if you do not." With that, they left her standing, naked, in her living room.

Brooke did not show up for work that morning at all. And we heard nothing from her. That was completely out of character for her. I decided that if we did not hear anything by lunch time, then I would try to contact her. She finally arrived late in the morning.

Coming into my office, she shut the door and said simply, "Tim, I will need to take a leave of absence from the job."

I was shocked. I noticed that she had apparently been crying. I tried to find out if something was the matter but she would not discuss it. She was just insistent that she would require time off and she would let me know when she could return. Leaving my office, she scampered out of the building. I could tell something was wrong, but I had no idea what it was.

That evening, as 8:00 approached, she waited apprehensively. How could she go through this again? But if she did not, how could she face the consequences? To her, that could mean the end to her perfect life. No, she would just have to make the best of it.