Important Note: For those of you who have read my stories before, I want to warn you that the Poor Amy series is a different type of story than I have written in the past. No romance, very little caring, and often, very non-consensual. See my blog (http://mwtb-blog.blogspot.com/2006/10/poor-amy-series.html) for more details.
Amy Jameson was mortified. She had ripped apart her whole room, and she could not find her diary anywhere. If someone got their hands on it...
Amy knew that she should never have put all her secret desires into a place that might one day be compromised, but she had to get it out somewhere. She could not just live with them bottled up. But now it was gone. Unless she had misplaced it somewhere - her fervent yet unlikely hope - someone else had access to her innermost thoughts, and her innermost thoughts were not exactly 'normal'.
On the outside, Amy Jameson was a tall, blonde, gorgeous student nurse. She was sometimes shy, sometimes wild, usually in direct relation to the amount of alcohol she had consumed. But on the inside... well, Amy just hoped that no one would ever find out what she was like on the inside. It was a secret that she had only shared with a few anonymous people on the Internet, people that would never actually meet her.
"Think, girl, think!" Amy said aloud as she plopped onto her bed. Something dug into her back, and she reached under herself and pulled out her vibrator, which she had used last night and hadn't had the energy to put away. "It's your fault!" she yelled at the inoffensive toy, throwing it across the room. But it really wasn't the fault of anyone but Amy, and Amy knew that.
"Think!" she repeated.
Amy thought. Who could have taken it? It had been a few days since she wrote in it. There had been this story that she had read where the main character was taken against her will, but it turned out that it was what she really desired all along. It was so close to her own desires, down to the mannerisms that she portrayed, that it could have been written with her in mind. She had written about the feelings that it gave her right after she had used her mechanical friend she had just tossed across the room to have a screaming orgasm.
With a start, Amy sat bolt upright, remembering what had happened next. Writing about that particular story had gotten her so hot that she had done herself again. Her second orgasm was even better, so much so that she fell asleep with the vibrator still inside her! Oh hell! She'd been so out of it that she hadn't put her diary away in her secret hiding place beneath the loose floorboard! It had probably fallen off the bed during the gymnastics that her little friend had caused her to perform. Amy couldn't help a little smile crossing her face at the thought of that session. It had probably been lying on the floor all along. But Amy had looked under the bed, near the bed, on the bed and everywhere else she could think of, and still no diary.
"Think!" Amy once again demanded.
Who could have seen it? Had anyone been in the room? Suddenly it hit her like a lightening bolt. Michelle! Yesterday Michelle had been over, as she was often, and she had asked to borrow a jumper. She hadn't thought anything of it, and Amy told Michelle to go get it out of her closet. Could Michelle have seen the diary and taken it? Amy had to find out. She looked at her watch and realized that Michelle would be home, but this had to be done in person, not by telephone. So she grabbed her jacket and her keys and ran out to the street.
Amy knocked on Michelle's door, who opened it and said, "This is a nice surprise, come in. Would you like some tea?"
"OK," Amy replied, thinking some tea might calm her nerves.
Michelle made the tea bringing them each a cup, and they sat at the kitchen table sipping their tea.
"What's brought you around?" Michelle asked.
"Um," Amy stuttered. "Remember the other day when you borrowed my jumper?"
"I do," Michelle said with a smile that made Amy nervous.
"Um, did you happen to take anything else with you?" Amy asked.
"Like what?" Michelle queried.
"Um... a book?" Amy replied hoarsely.
"I'm already reading something," Michelle said, that same little smile playing on her lips. "Was it a mystery, romance, or something else?"
"No, it was a diary," Amy whispered.
"Mmmmm, a diary." Michelle mused. "And you're worried that someone might have discovered your deepest, darkest thoughts?"
"Did it look like this?" Michelle asked, extracting the diary from a large side pocket.
Amy grabbed for it, and Michelle let her have it. Amy's heart was beating a mile a minute and she didn't know what to do. Michelle calmly sipped her tea.
"Interesting reading," Michelle noted.
Amy had no response.
"It's funny how sometimes you don't even know the people closest to you," Michelle continued. "For instance, here I thought that one of my closest friends was an independent, take charge kind of woman, trying to be a nurse so that she can make a place for herself in the world without depending on anyone, and all the while, it turns out that she is secretly a total slut, dying for someone to make her do the absolutely most depraved things possible. Who would have thought it?"
Michelle calmly took another sip of tea, while Amy almost reached the point of hyperventilating. Amy knew that Michelle was always the calm one, the rock on which she and her friend Julia depended. But seeing her sit there, so calm and collected, after she had ripped away the façade of Amy's deepest held and most embarrassing secret made Amy about ready to cry or scream. She wasn't sure which!
And yet, Michelle just sat there.
Amy tried to calm down. "Are you going to tell anyone about this?" Amy asked.
Michelle just looked at her.
Amy bit her tongue until she couldn't wait any longer. "Are you?" she repeated.
"No. No I'm not," Michelle said, and Amy breathed a huge sigh of relief.
"But that's not all there is to it," Michelle said before taking another sip.
"What do you mean?" Amy asked.
"Well, I have an interesting opportunity to kill two birds with one stone," Michelle said. "You see, I read through your whole diary. It's almost full, and as I said, the reading is very interesting. The thing that strikes me the most luv, is that the underlying themes are quite repetitive and strong. This isn't a 'Dear Diary, I wish I could shag David Beckham'. This is something that deeply affects you, a really intense, deep-seated fantasy."
Michelle paused to take another sip, while Amy held her breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Michelle didn't start talking right away, Amy said, "It's not really that. It's just that, you know, its fun to think of possibilities... You know, like how most women have rape fantasies, but wouldn't really want to be raped? This is the same kind of situation. I don't really want to do the things I wrote about."
"Yes, I agree that most people have fantasies that they don't want fulfilled," Michelle concurred. "On the other hand, most people don't write hundreds of pages about being raped. I imagine if I looked at your diaries written before this one, the theme would be the same."
Amy blushed, but said nothing.
"No, I think that the important thing is to help you out," Michelle said.
"What do you mean?" Amy asked.
"Strip," Michelle said quietly.
"What?!" Amy asked, her jaw falling open.
Michelle's eyes hardened and she said, "Amy. Take. Off. Your. Clothes."
"How can you do this to me?" Amy asked tearfully.
"This is the very last time that I am going to tell you," Michelle said ominously. "Strip down, slut!"
Amy stood up, her head bowed, and she slowly started removing her clothes. When the pants and shirt came off, she looked over at Michelle, but saw no hint of leniency. She reached behind her and unsnapped her bra, then pushed her panties down to the floor. She stood in front of one of her best friends, one arm crossed in front of her breasts, the other hovering over her blonde bush.
"Sit down," Michelle instructed.
Amy sat down on the chair, glad for the chance to hide her crotch from her friend. Amy and Michelle had been the closest of friends for years and years, and on numerous occasions they had seen each other nude or near nude. But with Michelle dressed, Amy felt vulnerable, not merely nude - naked, in both body and soul.
"There are two things that need to get done here, one for you and one for me," Michelle explained. "You, my dear Amy Jameson, need to be dominated. Now I'm not bi, but just because I won't have sex with you doesn't mean that I can't cause all those depraved things to happen to you."
"But you're my best friend! You're the one that takes care of me when things fall apart! How could you do this to me?"
"But don't you see, Amy?" Michelle asked earnestly. "If I didn't do this, you would go through life always wondering what it would be like. This way you'll find out. That brings me to my second bird, the thing that I want for myself."
Amy listened in dismay as Michelle mapped out her immediate future. She desperately didn't want to do this, and yet... Amy could have easily gotten up, gotten dressed and walked out. But she didn't, and she couldn't figure out why she didn't. If she were honest with herself, she would have known instantly, but Amy couldn't admit anything like it to herself.
.... There is more of this story ...