Chapter 1: The Sort of Man Who Does This Kind of Thing

Martin Hambly’s mailbox was empty when he peered inside. Surprised not to have any ads today, he shut the metal box closed and trudged upstairs to his one-bedroom apartment to let himself inside. He dropped his keys with an unceremonious chunk upon the kitchen counter and slung his coat across the back of his couch.

Another day, another dollar. Actually, several dollars today. Martin took his paycheck from his pocket and took another look at it. Not a bad haul for two weeks of drudgery at the bank. He dropped his paycheck onto the counter and opened the refrigerator. Ignoring several expired food items lined up on each shelf, Martin grabbed himself a beer and shut the fridge door.

The wedding invitation held to the door by a small doughnut-shaped magnet stared back at him. Only six months before his brother Miles would be married. Martin would be the last of Hamblys to remain single at the age of 38, much to his family’s disappointment.

Martin had inherited the worst traits from each of his parents. He had his father’s heavy build and receding hairline, and his mother’s height and poor eyesight. Put together, he was 5’3, chubby, had a balding head, and coke bottle eyeglasses. He was the shortest, fattest, baldest, and blindest of his brothers, all of which did no favors to his love life.

The invitation requested that Martin RSVP with any possible plus ones, which made him laugh. He’d never been in a long-term relationship and didn’t expect one anytime soon. He’d never dated any woman more than twice; sooner or later every woman he courted had some reason or another why the relationship wasn’t working and would cut ties with him- with or without an explanation.

By the time Martin was 30, he’d resigned himself to being a bachelor for life. It made things easier, that was for sure. Never having to worry about whether or not he had a chance with the cashier at the grocery store or the babe in apartment 4B was actually a relief when he’d finally accepted that he didn’t.

And the money he’d saved from rarely dating built up over the years. He’d amassed quite a bit in his savings and retirement accounts. If nothing else, his financial future was secure. He might not have been the happiest man in the world, but he enjoyed the security and independence that came from living a life free from women.

And yet ... the photograph of Miles and his wife-to-be happily smiling taunted him. There was happiness out there; Miles was no looker and he’d found someone.

You could find someone too, Martin. If you gave it half an effort, the nagging voice in his head told him. Are you really happier with all that money just building up?

Martin took another glance at the paycheck he’d left on his kitchen counter and let out a disdainful, “pffft!”

He took a swig of his beer and made his way to his computer.

His profile on SoulMatch.com was still active. He hadn’t logged on in weeks, and he had to jog his memory a bit before even remembering his password, but there it was. As usual, his inbox was empty. The three messages he’d gotten since he’d signed up to the site had since disappeared; the senders having deleted their profiles.

Effort, Martin. Put some effort into it.

He took a moment to update his photo; he knew he wasn’t exactly model material but he figured he should at least put up a photo where he didn’t look as though he were about to sneeze. An “About Me” section that made him seem at least somewhat interesting would help as well. He removed “Nate and the Nutbusters” from his list of favorite bands since that never seemed to go over well with the ladies. Martin made some quick updates and resumed his search.

There were plenty of women online; Martin clicked through their profiles and sighed. Most of them were as awkward and desperate as he was. Once every two pages he’d stumble across a babe. Martin would quickly “ping” her, and type up a message to make himself stand out from the onslaught of messages she was likely receiving. When she didn’t reply or ping back within a minute he’d move on to the next profile and try again.

It didn’t take long for Martin to remember why he’d given up online dating years ago. So few decent options, and so few replies. Growing weary of trying to sound fresh time and again, he started copy-and-pasting his outgoing message and mailing as many women as he could.

By seven o’clock, Martin had messaged nearly 50 women and had yet to receive a reply. Sighing, he closed his browser and picked up his phone to order dinner. A new episode of Honor Among Thieves was on at nine, and Martin never missed it. He ate his Chinese takeout in front of the TV, and when the episode was over, he closed his eyes and fell fast asleep.

Martin awoke with a startle. He was still on the couch, and the TV was still flickering. He checked the clock and saw it was 12:30 at night. He’d been more tired than he thought. He threw away his greasy chopsticks and empty food container, and before heading to bed, decided to check his inbox on SoulMatch.

He’d gotten seven pings. Excited, Martin checked them out.

The first was from a mid-fifties woman. Her profile was empty except for a single photo of her staring at the camera with her mouth hanging open and drooling. Martin deleted it and flipped to the next profile.

A profile of a frowning woman his age with the headline “DONT MESSAGE ME IF YOUR LOOKING FOR SEX” stared back at him. Martin deleted it and moved on.

The next three profiles were of little improvement. Martin knew he was no stud but still couldn’t fathom why he couldn’t garner better replies than this. The sixth ping came from an attractive younger woman with the screen name greenmeadows. Martin looked at her photo. She had pretty eyes, and a beautiful smile. He clicked and read her bio and was intrigued.

The main problem was the smoking. Every photo of her, she was holding a cigarette. Martin hated the smell and disliked the sense of apathy a smoker had for their own health. He wanted that to be a deal-breaker, but she was the best response he’d gotten yet. He decided to check his last ping.

His heart skipped. Her screen name was MissNadine, and she was a sultry goddess. She had long beautiful dark hair and piercing green eyes. She stared at him from his screen with a come-hither smile, daring Martin to place a kiss on her full succulent lips. He reached out and dragged his fingertips across his monitor. Why on Earth did this woman have interest in him?

She’s out of your league, Martin. Don’t even bother.

Martin clicked her profile and flipped through her photos. She was absolutely stunning in every one of them. He wondered if she’d hired a professional photographer to take them, but some of them appeared to be selfies and she appeared equally gorgeous. Even her headline quote stood out to him.

“Never pick a rose if you aren’t prepared to bleed.”

Martin knew that quote. It was a line from the first episode of Honor Among Thieves. Martin scrolled through her profile and sure enough, it was listed among her favorite shows.

“Sweet mother Mary,” Martin said aloud, staring at her beautiful pictures. “Located 5.8 miles away” the text underneath her name read. He could practically walk to her.

He typed up a reply as quickly as he could. “Hello there! You look gorgeous! What are you up to tonight?” He hit send.

Really, Martin? That’s the best you could come up with?

His excitement deflated the instant he sent the message. It was a lame opener, he knew it. The likelihood that she would reply, when she undoubtedly received hundreds of emails a night, was infinitesimally small. Although, she did ping him. That reason alone kept him watching his empty inbox with baited breath in the hope that it might get filled.

He waited two minutes. Then five. Then ten. And then got up from his chair and changed out of his work suit. He proceeded to brush his teeth and hoped perhaps if he checked his mail again in the morning, a reply might have arrived.

He was about to head off to bed when he heard a distinct ping coming from his computer. Martin raced back to his chair and checked his inbox. He had one unread message. From MissNadine.

“Hi Hambone! I’m listening to some music in my apartment alone and dancing. Even though I can’t dance, lol. Real exciting Friday night, I know! Wish I had a handsome guy here with me! Know any? ;)”

Martin chuckled and typed out a reply.

“Sorry, just an ugly guy here. Sounds like your night is more exciting than mine. What are you listening to?”

He hit send. Being humble seemed like a good strategy. He just prayed she would not agree with his assessment of his own looks. She replied two minutes later.

“Oh, you are a CUTIE!!! Don’t judge, but I’m in my panties and bra dancing to Nate and the Nutbusters. Don’t care what you say I love them. They make me horny.”

Martin’s mouth dropped. “Be still my heart,” he said, staring at her mail. He typed a reply.

“I LOVE NNB! You’re the first woman I’ve ever met that likes them! Are you kidding me?”

He shot off the message as fast as he could. Five minutes later she responded, but her message was empty except for a link. Martin clicked it.

A window popped up, and automatically played a five-second video showing Nadine in her bra and panties, dancing to the song Happy Cunt. Martin stared at the video in awe. This beautiful half-naked woman was dancing to his all-time favorite song, and her enormous breasts looked like they were about to pop out of her bra. God almighty, this woman was perfect.

“Okay, I’m sold. When is our wedding?”

He hit send. He fidgeted nervously, hoping she would understand that he was being facetious. He was ready to hang himself with the belt of his bathrobe if he lost out on this woman on account of a terrible joke.

She replied two minutes later with the message “LMAO. You make me smile. Let’s chat more! Make an account on Phone Phantasy and message me there. Bye!”

Martin sat back in his chair. A thousand boulders tumbled onto his chest. Of course it would be a ploy. He clicked the link she included, already knowing what he would find.

Rows and rows of listings of beautiful women advertising their services for pay-by-the-minute phone sex and cam shows. Martin’s heart sank.

You stupid dumbass.

He kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. He was a hopeless sap; even in thinking for a second that a woman as beautiful as Nadine would have any non-monetary interest in a balding, overweight bank teller. He closed his browser and stormed off to the kitchen for a drink.

“How many?” the hostess asked.

“Two,” Martin said awkwardly. It had been a long time since he’d requested a table for two. He looked around the crowded restaurant. “Do you have a smoking section?”

“On the patio. Right this way, baby!”

Martin looked at the hostess with surprise. No one ever called him baby. He rather liked it. It was a shame the women he dated never used pet names on him like that. He excitedly followed the smiling young lady past the bar and out the side door to a brick-laden patio, fenced off from the nearby street. Martin took a seat at a small round wire mesh table and the hostess placed two menus in front of him.

“Your server will be with you shortly!”

As she walked away, Martin laid a bouquet of carnations in front of the empty chair across from him. He hoped Cami would appreciate them. More than that, he hoped that she would appreciate his willingness to sit in a smoking section. He’d spent two weeks messaging women on SoulMatch and she was the only one that he found remotely attractive who was willing to meet him for a date. Acknowledging that he was the living embodiment of the phrase, “beggars can’t be choosers,” Martin held his breath until the majority of the smoke cloud had passed.

He kept his eyes on the restaurant entrance, watching for her. Numerous couples entered together, as well as families with children, but no unaccompanied women.

He checked his watch and saw it was five past seven. Martin shot Cami a text asking if she was on her way. She replied with, “I don’t know yet. What are you doing?”

“Sitting at the table, waiting for you” he replied. He arched his eyebrow, hoping she hadn’t forgotten about him. She responded shortly.

“Sorry. That message was for someone else.”

Martin felt his hopes dwindle. Whatever plans Cami had for tonight, he had doubts that they involved him. She messaged him again five minutes later.

“Sorry i can’t make it tonight. I have to take my cat to the vet. She throwing up everywhere.”

His spirit deflated. He grabbed the flowers from the table and walked straight out of the restaurant, ignoring the waiter who had just arrived at the empty table to take his drink order. When he arrived back at his apartment building, he saw his beautiful blonde neighbor Dayna checking her mailbox.

“Hi Stephen!” she said as he entered through the doorway.

“Martin,” he corrected.

“Sorry, Martin! How are you?” she asked.

“Been better. Got stood up for a date. Want some flowers?”

“Ooh, I LOVE carnations!” she took the bouquet from him and smelled them. “Been a long time since a guy has given me flowers! Thank you!”

Martin slipped his hands in his pockets.

“So, uh, you doing anything tonight?”

Dayna laughed. “No, probably just watching Netflix in my pajama pants!”

“Well, feel free to come over and watch Netflix at my place. I’m right next door.”

“Sure, definitely!” she said. “Be over in fifteen, kay?”

Martin was smiling when he returned to his apartment. His lovely company would get Cami out of his mind and the cologne he’d put on would not go to waste. He fired up Netflix and took two beers out of the fridge to be ready for her arrival. No sooner did the menu of movies pop up that Martin heard the roar of an engine out in the parking lot.

He glanced out the window to see a bright red Mustang had stopped in front of the building. The driver revved the engine three times, before an attractive blonde came scurrying out the building.

“Oh my God, Bobby! What are you doing here?” Dayna exclaimed. She wrapped her arms around the tall handsome man as he exited the driver’s seat and she planted a warm wet kiss on his lips and added, “I’ve missed you so much, baby!”

Baby. The word cut Martin like a knife.

He watched despondently at the two of them enter the vehicle, and the man revved the engine once more before he sped off. Martin opened the first of the two beers in his hands and set the second on the end table beside his couch for later.

He was spending the evening alone; he was resigned to that now. When he’d been stood up by his Plan B and his Plan C, it was time to throw in the towel. He walked over to his computer to check his SoulMatch account.

No new messages. No pings. The ladies simply weren’t interested. He looked through his inbox at his existing mails, and stopped on Nadine’s. She really would have been perfect. If only she were real. Of course, she was a real person; Martin had to remind himself. Just not someone who would genuinely date him. But she was someone he could converse with, albeit for money. Having arrived at the end of his rope, and his evening plans wide open, he clicked the link she’d given him to PhonePhantasy.com.

The front page showed a menu of twenty available girls, ready to take his call now. There was Angie, who specialized in daddy/daughter play. Christine, who liked girl-next-door games. Doris, who enjoyed cuckoldry. All beautiful girls trying to entice him to pick up his phone.

Near the bottom of the page he saw her. Mistress Nadine, financial dominatrix. Martin stared at her picture. It was the same woman from SoulMatch, but here she was clad in a leather corset and panties, tapping a riding crop against her gloved hand.

Martin clicked on her photo. The banner on her profile read, “Financial Domination with Mistress Nadine: Surrender to Your Inhibitions.” Below the header a counter read, “000 Men Ruined.” As the page loaded, the zeroes counted upwards, stopping when they reached 118. Martin stared at the sub header for a moment, processing the mistress’ boast that she had ruined 118 men. She was certainly gorgeous enough that Martin could believe she could ruin a man or two.

He scrolled down the page to look at the rest of her alluring photos and read her text. Bright red letters warned him, “CALLING MISTRESS NADINE MAY BE HIGHLY HAZARDOUS TO YOUR BANK ACCOUNT.” He wondered if that was indeed the case.

He looked at her rate; it was $2.99 a minute; a bit higher than most of the other girls listed, but she seemed to be the highest reviewed as well. Martin pondered just how much he would have spent on dinner if Cami had showed up, and figured a call costing him that much might make for a slightly better evening. Ignoring the bold text warning, he grabbed his credit card and created a Phone Phantasy account.

He used the same screen name as he had on SoulMatch. He didn’t want her to know his real name but he did want her to remember him from their interaction the previous week. Martin registered his credit card and he gave Mistress Nadine a call.

Swanky music played as a recorded voice told him who he was calling and the rate. After fifteen seconds, she answered.

“You lovestruck fool. You are DONE for,” was the first thing she said.

“Wha- why do you say that?” Martin stammered, not prepared for a greeting that wasn’t a simple hello.

“You’re speaking to the most dangerously addictive mistress on Phone Phantasy. State your name, future slave.”

“Mar- um, Stephen,” he said, and cleared his throat.

“It’s WHAT? Pull your tail out from between your legs and tell me your name again.”

“Stephen,” he repeated. “I spoke to you on SoulMatch last week. You were dancing to Happy Cunt and were a lot- gentler- with your words.”

“Oh, yes. Hambone. I remember you. Glad I lured you over to the dark side. I think you’ll find this site more suitable to your tastes.”

Martin thought about that. Already he was getting more interaction with a woman than he had on SoulMatch.

“Maybe. I didn’t know phone sex was still a thing,” he said.

“It’s not the lucrative industry it used to be, hence the reason I have to market in unconventional ways. But I got you here, didn’t I?”

“You sure did, girl,” he chuckled.

“Do not call me ‘girl’,” she said, sharply. “You may address me as Mistress Nadine, or simply Mistress. Is that clear?”

“I’m sorry, Mistress Nadine. I didn’t mean any disrespect.” He squirmed. She reminded him of his days as a student at Catholic school. It had been a long time since a woman had spoken to him like he’d forgotten his homework and was going to make him sit in the corner wearing a dunce cap.

“So what compelled you to call me tonight, besides the obvious?” she asked.

Martin swallowed nervously.

“Got stood up for a date. Nothing else to do.”

“You go on many dates, Stephen?”

“No. Not many at all.”

“Thirty-eight years old, still single, have your own apartment, why the delay, Stephen? Haven’t found the girl of your dreams yet?”

He could hear her typing on her keyboard and clicking her mouse.

“Not yet. Just hasn’t happened for me yet.” His computer chair was starting to feel uncomfortable. He got up and sat down upon his couch.

“What hasn’t happened for you yet? Specifically.”

Martin thought for a moment.

“Haven’t found a woman I want to be with.”

“Haven’t found a woman you want to be with, or a woman who wants to be with you?”

Martin paused.

“The second one,” he muttered bashfully. Nadine’s cross examination was making him sweat.

“Ever had a girlfriend?”

“Nothing serious,” he said softly.

“Ever had sex?”

Martin said nothing.

“You’re a virgin?” she asked, in a tone somewhere between aghast and amused.

“I ... well, technically yes...”

Nadine burst out laughing. “Oh honey, that is FANTASTIC! I love virgins!”

Martin stopped. “You do? Why?”

“Virgins are most malleable men of all. I love how timid they are; how desperate I can make them with just a little teasing. Some of the best pay piggies I’ve had have been virgins.”

“Pay piggies?” he asked, confused.

“Yes. That’s what they’re called. You know I’m a financial dominatrix, don’t you?”

Martin nodded and agreed, though he admitted that he wasn’t entirely familiar with the term.

“How do you financially dominate someone?” he asked.

“The same way a master or mistress dominates anyone, except the medium is the submissive’s money,” she explained. “Most piggies just pay me little tributes here and there. Whatever they can afford. It’s kind of pathetic honestly, but they seem to enjoy it, so I indulge them. But the REAL piggies? The ones who are serious submissives? They spend hundreds, sometimes thousands of dollars in a single session. They get off on being drained. And after I’ve taken all they have to give, they are dismissed. I ignore them until they have more to pay again.”

“That’s crazy...” Martin mused. “Why the hell would they do that?”

“It’s their fetish,” Nadine explained. “The psychology behind it is interesting, but usually it boils down to their sense of self-worth. In many cases, they have none. Paying a woman is- well, the only thing that makes them feel as if they matter. I’m sure you can understand this. They’ve been through years of being rejected by women, and after all that, they come to find that they can only achieve sexual fulfillment by giving away the very thing they work for- their money. A lot of men view money as the true measure of their worth, and when it’s taken from them, they sometimes view it as proving their worth, or being stripped of it. Every financial submissive is different so there are countless unique reasons why they enjoy it.”

“I- can’t imagine I would ever enjoy that,” Martin said.

“Maybe not. But you never know,” she said forebodingly. “A little brainwashing can work wonders on weak men with low self-esteem. You know, virgins who call phone sex lines on a Friday night because they got stood up for a date. Those kinds of guys.”

She chuckled. Martin tsked skeptically.

“I don’t think anything like that would work on me.”

“We’ll just have to see,” Nadine said. “You know, two years ago a man called me who said the exact same thing. He’s one of my biggest paypigs now. It took a bit of work, but men aren’t difficult. I just have to feel around for their weaknesses, find them, and exploit them.”

“You found his, I take it?”

“Oh yes! I got him calling back again and again. He calls me sometimes five times a day now. In the past six months he’s maxed out three credits cards, taken out a loan, and a second mortgage. And he is married, mind you.”

“God,” Martin said, stunned. “Why would he do that?”

“Because I told him to,” she said, coolly. “I understand fetish in a way few others do thanks to my experience in BDSM clubs, and I know how to manipulate and bend sexually deprived men to my will. Ronnie doesn’t have the best relationship with his wife, so I provide him what he’s lacking.”

Martin stirred in his seat. “I get that, but, why does he got to pay so much just to get off?”

“I taught him to find pleasure in paying me,” Nadine explained. “It scares him how much money he spends, but I talk him through his anxieties. But that fear he feels, when he knows I’m about to push him into making another tribute- that gets his heart pounding, his endorphins rushing, and that fuels his sexual arousal. That man has had some of the most intense orgasms that I’ve ever heard a man have outside of sex. Fear and arousal go hand-in-hand, as many in the BDSM scene know. You simply cum harder when your adrenaline is racing. And I’m very good at making men anxious.”

“I can tell,” Martin said. His pulse had picked up just hearing Nadine describe the process so straightforwardly.

“I am quite skilled,” Nadine said. “Skilled enough that, I’m confident I can make YOU my next FinDom victim.”

Martin laughed nervously.

“Well, I don’t know. But, I’ll admit, you’ve got me a little curious about it.”

Nadine hummed softly.

“An open mind will serve you well in this scene, darling.”

“I- consider myself pretty open-minded,” he said, blushing.

“I’ll be learning a lot of things about that mind of yours the more we talk.”

“I’d like that,” Martin said.

“How long have you been with Bennington Trust?”

Martin froze, wondering how she knew where he worked. It took a second for him to remember that he’d put it on his SoulMatch profile. She was likely reading from it as she spoke to him.

“Fi- no six years,” he said.

“You enjoy it there? Find it fulfilling?”

“Yes. Well I mean, it’s a little boring, but it pays the bills, you know?”

“And after those bills are paid, you still have cash left over?” she asked.

“Yeah, always. I don’t spend a lot, usually.”

Nadine gave an evil cackle. It made Martin nervous.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Famous last words,” she replied. “When did you last masturbate?”

Martin stopped cold again. No woman had ever asked him that question before.

“Um, last week, I think?”

“Ooh, so I imagine you’re pretty horny tonight. What do you like to masturbate to?”

“Um, just hot girls, I guess.”

“Do you prefer girls be clothed or nude when you’re masturbating to them?”

“Um, nude, I guess,” Martin said.

“Just checking,” Nadine said. He could hear her typing on her keyboard.

“What parts of their bodies turn you on the most? Tits? Asses? Legs? Feet?”

“Everything,” Martin said. “Tits, asses, I guess.”

“Any pornographic websites you visit often?”

Martin admitted he did, and rattled off a few he visited frequently.

“Show me what you last came to. I want to see the picture or video that made you spill your seed.”

Martin thought for a moment. Not because he couldn’t remember. But because he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her.

“It was ... the video you sent me on SoulMatch” he said truthfully. Nadine burst into laughter.

“You masturbated to MY video? I’m flattered!”

“You’re pretty hot,” Martin said.

“Well, thank you. I supposed I should have charged you for that clip then,” she said, chuckling.

“You dance around in your underwear often?” he asked.

“When I’m inspired. Usually I just walk around my house naked. Like I am right now.”

“You’re what?” Martin felt his blood go still.

“I’m naked, sweetheart,” she said. “I’ve always been more comfortable this way. My parents were nudists and raised my sister and me to feel comfortable in our own bodies.”

“Wow...” Martin said, picturing the sultry brunette seated in front of her computer without a stitch of clothing on.

“Does it turn you on, to picture me sitting here naked, Stephen?”

Martin admitted it did.

“I want you to unzip your pants now. Take your cock out for me,” she instructed.

Martin did as he was told. He sat on his couch, holding his penis in his hand, waiting for her next command.

“Now Stephen, I want you to bring up that video of me that you masturbated to. I want to listen to you jerk off.”

Obediently, Martin opened up the folder on his computer where he’d stored the video of Nadine’s dancing. He clicked the file and began playing the five-second video on a loop.

“I hear it!” Nadine said, amused. “But I don’t hear you. Go ahead and start stroking.”

Martin did as he was told. He grabbed his penis and tugged on it, admiring Nadine’s beautiful curvaceous body in motion. He watched her large breasts jiggle within the confines of her tight bra, and his penis began to swell.

“Mmm, stroke that cock for me, Stephen” she purred. Martin obeyed. He rubbed his penis up and down, and slowly, his erection expanded until he was at full length. “What part of my body turns you on the most?”

“Your-” Martin panted, “your breasts.”

“You like my big tits?” she asked, giggling.

“Yeah,” Martin said, still stroking. His breathing got heavier. “Jesus, are those real?”

“Sure are,” she said. “Bit tits run in the family. My mom has them. My sister has them. My aunt and her daughters all have them. All the women in my family have big, big, titties.”

“Oh God,” Martin whispered, staring at his screen transfixed.

“Would you like a peek?” she teased.

“Yes ... yes...” Martin said, grunting. He watched her barely clothed breasts bouncing and was positively craving a peek at what they would look like bare.

“Then you need to ask me properly,” she instructed. “You say, Mistress Nadine, may I please have a peek at your big, beautiful tits?”

Martin swallowed. He was happy to oblige Nadine’s request.

“Oh, but Stephen?” she added. “For a favor like this ... you really ought to ask while on your knees.”