“Hey takeit!” I smiled and reached back, unclipping my bra and sliding it off, exposing my br**sts for the cam.

takeitALL61: hey babe. My name is Frank

“Hey Frank. What are you in the mood for today?”

takeitALL61: I want you to order me to give you money.

TakeitALL61 was the first Financial Dom client I ever had. He was patient with me, as are most clients with unusual requests, and by our third chat, I understood exactly what it was he wanted.

“Don’t you pull out your f**king c**k Frank—that is not what I want!” I pointed into the camera, my face fierce and angry.

takeitALL61: yes bb. sorry. what do you want?

“I want you to pull out your f**king wallet. Did you go to the bank today?”

takeitALL61: yes beautiful. I went at lunch

“Did you spend any money since then?” I knelt, a silk robe wrapped around me, all trace of compassion gone from my eyes.

takeitALL61: no! i promise.

“Good boy. I want you to open up your wallet, and then I’ll let you pull out that cock. You’re going to have to give me every dollar in that wallet before I let you come. Do you understand?”

takeitALL61: yes bb. i will. but I have bills that i need to pay

“Fuck that! You aren’t paying the bills this month, Frank. You are going to give me your money, every last cent of it, until you are broke and living in the gutter. Do you understand me, Frank? You jack off that c**k if you understand.”

Frank never gave me a dollar over the preset $6.99 a minute. He didn’t even use the ‘tip’ button that is so prominently displayed over our chat window. I could have used that as part of our play, but it seemed too evil. Especially to a client that was already doomed to financial ruin.

CHAPTER 32: The damn lake party

FOUR YEARS EARLIER

Jennifer Blake. She was that girl at school—the one who everyone wanted to be friends with, and whose friends were in constant fear of getting kicked to the curb. She was Queen Bee: beautiful, ruthless, and had everything going for her. Money, power and Josh Martin—the most gorgeous, perfect guy any of us had ever met. Jennifer’s parents had a lake house about ten miles out of town, and it was there that Jennifer hosted her annual party. No parents, free alcohol, and enough bedrooms for a hundred high school seniors to have one hell of a good time. I was one step under goody-goody, so I wouldn’t be having sex or doing drugs. But I wasn’t above drinking a few Smirnoff Ices and making out on a couch. And I desperately wanted to go to that party. I hadn’t been invited the previous year and had spent the whole night feeling sorry for myself in my bedroom. This year I had gotten the coveted invite, passed on casually by Jennifer as she walked by my locker one remarkable Wednesday. I was finally “in,” and I’d be damned if I missed the party by sleeping at my grandparents’.

So Saturday night I decided, sometime between Nana’s apple pie and Papa’s evening news, once I realized that there was, in fact, no graduation surprise planned, that I would go. I’d wait ‘til they both fell asleep, sneak out the back, and then drive to the lake house. I’d be back and sound asleep in bed by the time they woke up for church the next morning. Easy peasy.

I sat through three Seinfeld episodes before I kissed them both goodnight and headed upstairs, locking the door behind me and unzipping my suitcase. I quickly realized, after flipping through the folded piles, that Mom had not packed a single party outfit that would be Jennifer Blake acceptable. The worst thing was that I knew the perfect outfit—pictured it as clearly as if it hung before me. The green sundress—fitted enough to be sexy, but casual enough that I didn’t look like I was trying too hard. I had purchased it just two days ago, the shopping bag carelessly tossed in the backseat of Mom’s car, where it no doubt still sat. I chewed my thumbnail and thought, weighing my options: skip the party; attend the party in the wrong outfit; or swing by my house on the way. I checked my watch. Fuck it. I’d stop by home, sneak into the garage, grab the dress, and change in the car. That late at night, everyone would be inside or asleep anyway.

When there is evil in someone, it grows, unattended by all and fielded by its harborer. I know this; I feel it, each and every day, growing stronger inside of me ‘til one day—snap—it will take over control and every logical thought process, every thought of survival and preservation will disappear, and I will be a loose cannon, fired and on my path of destruction, with nothing but my own doom ahead of me, and the demise of whomever lay in my final path.

RalphMA35 hasn’t snapped yet. But I can see his path as clearly as I can see my own. And it is coming. His demented evil was growing, and I am undoubtedly fanning the flame. I promise you, that is not my intention. My intention is only to save her.

CHAPTER 33: Jeremy Bryant

Jeremy couldn’t stop thinking about her. Part of it was the f**ked-up-ness of it all; part of it was the image of her, naked beneath him. Part of it was the infatuation that had kept his mind and heart occupied for the last two years. Two long days had passed without any packages for her. Today, salvation had come in the form of an Overnight Express package, from Instruct DVDs, the parcel addressed to Jessica Reilly. Twice he stopped to buy her flowers, and both times idled at the curb for a few minutes before he ultimately talked himself out of it and pulled away.

Now there was nothing to do but knock. He had spent all day trying to figure out what to say, but had come up with absolutely zilch. He hesitated, then lifted his hand and knocked.