Message-ID: <20799eli$9903270433@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: auryman@aol.com (AuryMan) Subject: Diane's Mistake 13/21 (M+F, nc, blackmail, bdsm, etc) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19990326221349.26413.00000624@ng61.aol.com> WARNING: This story contains strong sexual themes. It is intended as a work of fiction for ADULTS ONLY, and the writer does not in any way suggest or condone similar behavior. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental. All names are fictitious. The acts described herein are illegal, and are not condoned by the author. This work is to be read by PERSONS 21 OR OLDER ONLY where such topics are not against the law. If unusual sexual behavior offends you, please STOP reading here THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING! =============================== SubDiane's Mistake Chapter 13 When Diane got home, she checked her email again. The note from SumwonElz said she would ave no more contact with them until Thursday, two days away. But she was expected to continue working out at the gym. In the morning, Diane drove to the D--- Gym to ask about joining. When she walked into the building, she was met by a young woman wearing workout gear. She had a serious look and a well toned body. Diane could tell she was probably one of the staff. "Um. Hello. I'm interested in maybe joining up," Diane managed to say. "Let me just ask you, are you a friend of Rod's? Because he said you would probably be coming in today." The younger woman gave her a pleasant look that was somehow tinged with condescension, or at least a conspiratorial air. "Well, I do know someone named Rod..." "That's it then! So, you're up for the competition, hm? Going to remake yourself in just a few short months?" The woman was already walking across the gym, motioning for Diane to follow her. Diane had to practically trot to keep pace. "You know, you can't be caught moving slow around here!" the woman laughed. "You never make your goal if you don't bust some ass!" She stopped in front of a dressing room. "Now, go on in there and put on the outfit you find. I told Rod I'd get you started right away and I'm not going to break my word!" Diane's head was spinning. Was the woman in on it? Rod was an organizer? Was she talking to the wrong person? "Are you sure we don't have to sign any paperwork or anything?" Diane asked, trying to gain some time to think through her situation. "Nothing. You're to start right up. Rod has paid for your membership and he wants me to make you a winner. The story we are going to tell is this: you want to compete for the Mrs. Chicago pageant. We all know the REAL story, but that one will do." The woman winked at Diane. The REAL story? What did the woman know? Who was Rod? "Stop thinking and get dressed," the woman said, her tone menacing now. Diane stepped into the small booth and started taking her clothes off. She noticed an overhead camera in the corner of the dressing room. "Is this camera on?" she called. "Oh, pleeease!" the woman answered, walking away. "Meet me at the rowing machine." When she was dressed, the trainer - Liz by name - had Diane stand beside the machine with her arms raised. Liz felt her belly, thighs, chin, arms and legs, making comments to herself as she did. Diane was acutely aware of being looked over like a piece of cattle but made no comment. "OK, I think I can do it for them...for you I mean," Liz said with a grin. She ran Diane through her paces. She did fifty crunches -- painful and slow, but fifty was the goal -- and worked out on several different weight machines. By the time they finished, Diane could hardly walk and did not think she'd make it home. In the dressing room, she collapsed on a bench. "I can tell it's been a long time since you've worked out. This is good for you. All kinds of fringe benefits. Go get a shower and go home." The woman walked out the door and back into the main floor of the gym. Diane stood in the shower for a long time, feeling the warmth slowly bring her some comfort. Her muscles were on fire but there was something happening in her head. The endorphines were kicking in. She was feeling good, excited. Exhausted, but excited. She dressed and drove home. No one would be home for a few more hours. She was feeling horny and, with the blackmailers not around, in control of her life again. She logged on and skimmed her email. Many proposals again. She started deleting them. "Ding!" - 2Big4U: Hey, honey! - SubDiane: do I know you? - 2Big4U: Does it matter? I read your profile, sweetcakes. Diane shook her head. Her profile was pretty innocuous. - SubDiane: what did you like about it? - 2Big4U: the part about meeting in real life. There was nothing about that in her profile. - SubDiane: you got the wrong girl - 2Big4U: I doubt it. come on, you up for some cyber? - SubDiane: wait a minute A bit frightened by the possibliity of what she might find, Diane clicked on the commands that would show her her own profile. It had been altered. It gave her city, her correct age and number of kids, and listed her hobbies as "real world meetings for anything you like, once you've proven yourself worthy in cyber" She felt herself sinking down another level deeper into the cesspool of her life. She changed her profile and saved it, wondering how long it would take him (or them?) to change it again. - 2Big4U: I'm waiting, honey. Diane felt a familiar desire coming up. The screen had some kind of Pavlovian effect on her, even after all that had happened. There was still over an hour before anyone would be home. She followed him into his private chat. They circled each other a bit warily, then he started making demands. She felt a familiar sensation as she delivered on each of his demands. As they went deeper and deeper into the session, she slid her hand down into her pants and masturbated herself, her other hand furiously typing away to keep his interest. He had her chained to a wall in a dark cave, back against the hard rocks, iron shackles on her wrists and ankles. He was ravaging her for the third time, pressing harder she was cutting her shoulderblades and hips against the rocks. Her mouth was devouring his tongue, her cunt a starving man at his first meal. She kept trying to raise her knees and wrap her legs around him but the chains around her ankles stopped her. She was crying from the effort. He shot his cum into her shot his cum into her, then pulled his cock out and left the room. Diane fingered herself even after 2Big4U had logged out of their private chat. What an asshole. Once he was done, he'd signed off. It was not unusual, but it was frustrating. She went back and cruised the rooms called "SubF4U", "silk stockings" and the usuals. There were a few IMs but no one who sounded like he could do it. Finally, in "short skirts", she decided to give someone a try. He took her to a private room and started massaging her shoulders. She relaxed under his hand. He worked his way down her back, pressing the muscles hard. She sat in her room, imagining strong hands on her. He worked his way down to her hips, then moved his hands around front of her. His fingers slipped down and opened her up. His left hand reached for hers and he slid two of her own fingers into her. She was enjoying this, he was imaginative. He was kissing her neck, licking her beneath the ear. His other hand roamed the front of her body, from nipple to clit, from belly to cunt lips. She felt the tension building in her body and started massaging herself. She spread her knees wide and continued typing responses to his advances. She closed her eyes for a minute and leaned her head back, moaning. "Mom?" came a call from the hallway. Diane jerked her head forward, sat up straight in the chair. He daughter was home, she must have not heard her come in. She checked the clock. It was nearly four! She'd been online over an hour and a half! "One minute, honey!" she yelled. Diane clicked off the computer and stood up. She smelled her fingers. They smelled like her. There was nothing in the room she could use to mask the scent. "Could you get me a glass of soda from the fridge?" she called to her daughter. "Sure." She heard footsteps going down the stairs. Diane rushed from the room to her own, washed her hands with hot water, and put on too much hand lotion. When her daughter handed her the glass, it almost slipped through her greasy fingers. "Come on," Diane said, "let's get dinner ready." + + + end of chater 13 -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----