Chapter 3

I received a small package in the mail from Mr. Don Carter nearly a month after they returned to their own offices in Los Angeles. I had to go to the Post Office to pick it up. The bastard paid extra for ‘signature confirmation’. He’ll know I received it and when it arrived.

I took it home, placed it on the dinette table and poured myself a large glass of wine. I sat at the table staring at the package with a knot in my stomach and a most horrible feeling of dread. I didn’t open it. Not right away. Not until I emptied the glass of wine did I finally open the package.

The package contained a dozen numbered DVDs. The note explained that these are copies of all of the raw footage they shot of me while they were here. There’s also a thirteenth DVD, professionally labeled and presented in a plastic case with pictures of me on the front and back having sex, all kinds of sex with all kinds of people.

There was also a sealed envelope in the box with my name and a short note on the front. The note said I’m to watch all the DVDs, the numbered ones first, then the final, professionally edited version. I’m not to read the message in the sealed envelope until I have watched each DVD.

I don’t know if I put the sealed envelope down because I’ve become so accustomed to obeying Don’s orders, or if I’m just too terrified to find out what that monster’s demands might be.

Thankfully it’s Friday evening and I have no plans for the weekend. I have a lot of dirty movies to watch. Tears are running down my cheeks as I poured myself another large glass of wine. I took the movies and my wine into my small living room and put them down on the coffee table. I selected disk number on, put it in the DVD player and sat down. I took a big sip of my wine and started the disk.

The movies were hard to watch. Especially that first one when there had been so much pain. I learned something, though. I noticed that they started recording me dancing almost from the moment I arrived at the club. They had selected me to abuse and degrade even before I danced that first dance with Don.

I watched the DVDs one after the other. It took all weekend and a lot of wine. There are almost twenty-four hours of video all together. Prior to viewing the disks Don sent me I had begun to recover from their abuse and the memories had started to fade. They all flooded back as I watched all the recordings of all those awful men raping and abusing me.

I was disgusted at myself for giving in so easily but the thing that disturbed me the most was that I found myself becoming aroused as I watched some parts of the DVDs. Finally, late on Sunday night, I poured a last glass of wine and opened the sealed envelope.

In his note, Don informed me playing with my mind and body had been much too much fun to stop now. He simply can’t find it in himself to let me wither on the vine of normalcy. From time to time, for an unspecified period, until he gets tired of the game, I will be given a task to perform, a task along the lines of the humiliating and degrading things they made me do while they were in town. I’ll be assigned a time to meet him on my web cam after the completion of each of those assigned tasks, while nude of course, and describe what took place in detail. As often as is feasible I will be required to obtain photographic evidence and email it to him. He doesn’t care how I accomplish that but if I fail to satisfy him in that regard the tasks will become more humiliating and more difficult to perform.

Lastly, I’m to be prepared at any time for someone to knock on my door with no prior warning and tell me that they have been sent by him. I’m to obey any commands that person might give without hesitation.

My first assignment is to take my digital camera with me to an address on Chestnut Lane. I’m to knock on the door and ask for Fiver. I’m to tell him Don sent me and do whatever he instructs me to do. I’m further instructed to ask Fiver to take pictures of me while I’m there. Finally, I’m to email Don the pictures immediately.

It’s already late Sunday night. It’s already much too late to go out so I decided to put his first assignment off until tomorrow after work. There was never any question in my mind about going. I know I have to obey. I’m upset and very much afraid of whatever Don has in store for me. But I’m also upset with myself because in the back of my mind I sense a tiny kernel of excitement growing in anticipation of more of the kind of treatment I suffered in the hands of Don and his crew. I have never been, and I don’t want to be, the kind of woman who becomes excited by this kind of behavior.

I studied the bus schedule after work on Monday before going to the bus stop. I have to take a different set of buses than the buses I normally take to get to the address in Don’s note. I’ve never been to this part of town before. It’s not a very nice area and I’m nervous just walking down the street. From the bus stop I had to walk a couple of blocks to Chestnut Lane.

The house I was looking for is halfway down the street on the left. As I approached I saw a dozen big Harley Davidson motorcycles in the driveway and parked around the front yard where there is supposed to be grass growing. The kernel of excitement I experienced last night was probably due in large part to the wine I was drinking. I certainly don’t feel it now. I’m feeling just a bit panicky now just seeing the house and all those Harleys parked in front of it. One thing hasn’t changed since last night, though. I’ve seen the obscene, disgusting movies Don is using to blackmail me. I have no choice but to follow his directions. If those movies got out it would destroy me even if it was obvious how much I hated what those bastards made me do for that week in hell.

I knocked quietly at the door, desperately wanting to be anywhere else but here. A woman came to the door in response to my knock. She’s about thirty-five or forty years old, it’s hard to tell. She has stringy blonde hair and is dressed in cutoff jeans and a tank top. She has a can of beer in her hand. She glared at me for a minute and then asked sarcastically, “Are you lost, little girl?”

I do truly feel like I’m lost. But I shook my head and meekly replied, “I need to see Fiver. Is he here?”

She glared at me for a minute and then yelled into the house, “Hey, Fiver! There’s a civilian here asking for you. She’s a cute little thing too.”

A long moment later someone pushed the woman out of the way and I saw a small, wiry biker with a really mean look on his face. “What the hell do you want?” He asked abruptly.

“Don sent me,” I answered submissively. “He told me to come here. I’m supposed to do whatever you tell me. And he told me to ask you to take pictures with my camera.”

He stared at me for a minute and then he asked, “Are you Cameron?”

I nodded and he said, “Well kiss my ass! Dude said you was cute. But shit, you can’t trust anybody nowadays. You’re a fucking little hottie, ain’t ya?”

I just looked at him, wondering what this is all about. Am I here to have to have sex with this man and all the men who belong to those bikes? Whatever it is, I know Don well enough to know I’m not going to like it.

He leered at me for a couple of very long minutes before he stepped back from the door and nodded for me to come in. I’m so scared I’m shaking as I opened the screen door and entered the dark living room. The small living room is loud and smoky and full of big, ugly, hairy bikers. As soon as I stepped in the crude comments and wolf whistles started. I fought the urge to turn around and make a run for the bus stop.

I tried not to look at all the leering men. I came to a stop inside the door and stood silently, staring at the floor and wishing I had defied my blackmailer. This looks bad. This looks over the top even for Don! These men are even scarier than Don and his crew!

I stood like that, waiting nervously for Fiver to tell me what I’m supposed to do. The comments are getting nastier and I glanced around because I noticed that not all the voices assaulting my ears are male.

I counted four women in the group. All of them are dressed pretty much alike. They’re all dressed like biker chicks and they’re smiling and catcalling just like the guys. One of them sounds drunker than the others. She keeps yelling, “Come on, baby! Show us your tits!”

‘Christ!’ I thought, ‘What kind of animals are these people?! This place is a fucking zoo!’

Finally, Fiver yelled at everyone to shut up. I guess he’s in charge because they did. As soon as it was quiet he held out his hand and said, “Camera.”

I reached into my purse and handed him my camera. He turned to one of the women and said “Sam, you have one like this don’t you?”

She nodded and he tossed my camera to her and said, “Start taking lots of pictures. Keep going until I tell you to stop.”

Then he called to the blonde who answered the door and told her, “Go get our movie camera out. This is going to be interesting.”

She left the room and came back out a minute later with a movie camera. When she was ready he ordered me to strip.

I may be stupid. I must be after submitting to all the things that have been done to me since I met Don. But even so, I figured that order was coming. Still, it was very difficult to force myself to undress in a room full of butt ugly bikers.

I’m still dressed in my work clothes. My outfit is very modest and consists of many layers. I’m simultaneously grateful that it will take longer for my body to end up on display to these animals and upset that my strip show will last that much longer. Not that I think it’s going to change the end result but I can’t help thinking how stupid it is to tease a group like this.

I’m still too scared to do anything but obey. That is, after all, why I forced myself to come to this house, even knowing that something bad was going to happen to me when I got here. I focused my eyes on a large grease spot on the floor and with shaking fingers I started undressing.

The guys are all sitting up now, cheering me on and making obscene comments. In all too short a time I was naked. After taking a moment to give everyone an opportunity to look at my naked body, Fiver told a couple of his guests to clear off the coffee table they’re all sitting around.

As soon as everything was out of the way, I was stretched out on my back on the table. Someone produced some rope and I looked at him curiously. Who in the hell just happens to have rope handy?! My hands and legs were secured to the table legs. I don’t know why. It isn’t like I could fight these men off. My head is hanging off one end and my ass is right on the edge at the other end.

Fiver left the room as soon as they had my limbs secured. While he was out, his friends took the opportunity to crudely explore my body with fingers which felt like course sandpaper. When Fiver returned he placed a bunch of things on the floor beside the table. I can’t see whatever it is he brought back into the room with him and I can’t see what he’s doing. I still don’t know why I’m here but I’m starting to get the idea I’m not just here to be the guest of honor at a gangbang. The men didn’t stop groping me until Fiver said, “That’s enough for now. Let me get this done.”

He turned to one of the bikers and asked, “Big John, you want to have some fun?”

I didn’t hear the reply. I assume it was affirmative. He waved Big John over and put him in position, kneeling at my head. Without a lot of urging, Big John opened up his pants. In no time at all I had Big John’s big Johnson in my throat.

Surprisingly enough, he was not as brutal as I would have expected. He gave me time to adjust to his invading cock and I didn’t have too much trouble accommodating him. At least, not right away. Not until I felt someone playing with my nipples and then, when they were erect, I felt something cold and metallic on one of them. Then the trouble started. That was when someone shoved a large needle through my nipple and it required all my willpower to keep from biting down on Big John’s big Johnson.

I may be a natural red head but I guess I’m just a dumb blonde at heart. I think I now know why Don ordered me to come here. I felt fumbling around at my injured nipple and then the coolness again. Cool at first, until the alcohol reached the exposed flesh of my recently disfigured nipple!

I calmed down just as Big John came in my throat and pulled out. I lay there gasping for air, wanting to lift my head and see what Fiver did to my nipple but I’m afraid to look.

“Damn!” he exclaimed. “I do believe that was one of the best blowjobs I ever had. Especially the part when she tried to scream.”

Fiver asked, “Anyone else want to keep her mouth busy while I decorate the next one?”

Instantly another greasy, hairy, potbellied individual was kneeling at my head and forcing his cock into my mouth. I’m more concerned with what’s about to happen to my other nipple, and with being able to keep from making what I’m sure would be the fatal mistake of biting this guy’s cock when it happens.

Fiver repeated the painful procedure. He finished long before the biker so I had to wait several minutes to see what my nipples look like. When I could finally lift my head and look down, I was dismayed to see Fiver had placed rather thick rings, both approximately the circumference of a quarter, through each nipple. I would have opted for something smaller, a little more petite, more discreet, if I had been offered an option.

Another biker stepped up and asked, “Me next?”

Fiver grinned and answered, “Well, you can if you want to. But I recommend you wait a minute and let me finish the next one first. Then we can all have a shot at her.”

That was a crowd pleaser.

The next one?! My belly button maybe?

Not even close! Two men grabbed my knees and pulled them as wide as my bindings would allow. I suddenly knew my fears are justified. I know where the next piercing is going and I really don’t want this one. I started pleading with Fiver. I begged him not to do it.

Smiling down at me gleefully he listened to my pleas for a minute, really enjoying my terror. Then he started playing with my clitoris and getting it to stand up. I’m far from being aroused and it took him a while but nobody seemed to mind except me.

When he was satisfied and he swabbed me down with alcohol. Someone clamped a hand over my mouth. I tensed up when I felt Fiver fumbling around down there and then I went totally rigid and screamed in pain when the needle was thrust through the sensitive skin of the hood over my clitoris.

More than anything I really wanted to pass out right then. It was awful. But I remained conscious as Fiver put a too large matching ring into the hole he had just made in my body and daubed it with more alcohol. I prayed that was the end of it.

It was the end of the piercing. It wasn’t the end of the pain, or the sex. The bikers fucked me until late in the evening. I was even forced to eat out a couple of the female’s smelly cunts for everyone’s amusement.

I cleaned myself up with a towel one of the women handed me and then they all sat around and watched me get dressed. I looked around and found my camera. I noticed the memory card is full. Don should be pleased.

I was about to leave when the woman who answered the door when I first knocked asked, “How you gettin’ home, honey?”

I answered, “I have to take the bus.”

She turned to Fiver and said, “You need to run her up there, baby. If you don’t she’ll miss the last bus.”

He didn’t seem all that pleased. But he took me out to the driveway and started his bike. I climbed on behind him, not without a great deal of hesitancy. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before and I’m terrified. But he took it easy and I got to the bus stop, alive, just in time for him to park in front of the bus so it wouldn’t leave without me. Like the ditz I must be I thanked him, which made him grin, and I got on the bus and went home.

Before I left his house, Fiver gave me some instructions for keeping the piercings clean. He also gave me a tube of antiseptic cream. As soon as I got home I took another long, hot bath. When the water started to cool I got out of the tub and stared at myself in the mirror.

I don’t like what I see in my reflection. Looking at what Don has done to my body, even from so many miles away, is nearly at traumatic as the evening I just spent with Fiver and his friends. It’s all I can do to keep from curling up in a ball on the floor and crying hysterically as I stand here looking at what has become of me, of my body, of my life. I’m not the kind of woman who wears jewelry in her private parts and takes part in gangbangs with biker gangs. Or at least, I wasn’t until tonight.

I just don’t know what to do about it. I’m grateful that, so far at least, the people I work with have detected no hint of my double life. If that were to happen I’d have no more reason to go along with this blackmail. One word of this at work and I’m ruined. Not just at my place of work, either. It’s extremely unlikely I’d ever be able to get a good job again. Not in my field. Hell, no business that did a background check would ever hire me. As much as I hate Don and terrible things he’s continuing to do to me, though, I don’t know if I can bring myself to destroy my life to get out from under this black cloud over my head. I may soon decide I have no choice. I’m almost to that point now.

After the piercings I heard nothing from Don for weeks. The constant dread is always there, though. The fear of what horrible act he will force me to commit next in order to humiliate me because destroying my life seems to amuse him.

Then one night there was a knock on my door and instantly a cold ball of fear twisted my stomach in knots. I knew it must be someone sent by Don to torment me. I went to open it. It’s early on a Saturday evening, just after six. When I opened the door I saw a teenager, a boy of around sixteen. I was relieved. When I saw him I assumed instantly that it’s one of my neighbors, or someone looking for somebody and he has the wrong address. My stomach just about unwound until the boy said, “Don sent me.”