Chapter 1

Elizabeth rubbed her tired eyes as she shuffled into the kitchen, her hair a messy bun and wearing an oversized t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. She had been up late, hunched over her laptop, finishing a project for a client who always seemed to need things yesterday. The smell of fresh coffee hit her first, comforting and warm, as she saw Bree already sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in her smart office attire--a fitted blouse and pencil skirt, with her long dark hair perfectly styled. She looked every inch the young professional ready to face the city.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Bree said, a teasing smile on her lips as she sipped from her travel mug. “Rough night?”

Elizabeth grunted something resembling a greeting and made a beeline for the coffee pot. “Late deadline,” she muttered, filling her mug to the brim before taking a grateful sip. “What’s got you so chipper?”

Bree’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, you’re going to love this,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Do you remember that sugar mama website I mentioned last week?”

Elizabeth turned, mug halfway to her mouth, already feeling a sense of dread. “Oh no. What did you do?”

Bree’s laugh was light and careless. “I set up a profile,” she said, barely able to contain her amusement. “And let me tell you, the messages I’ve gotten are wiiild.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed as she sat down at the table across from Bree, the coffee warming her hands. “What kind of messages?”

Bree’s smile turned almost wicked, and she leaned forward conspiratorially. “Let’s just say ... some people are offering a lot more than dinner and a nice bottle of wine.” She winked. “Some of them have some very specific requests. One woman told me that I needed to work on my nipples. She said she’d pay me 1000 dollars if I pumped my nipples and then she sent me a picture. Thats some freaky nipples I can say Liz.”

Elizabeth’s face flushed as she imagined what that might mean. “Bree, you can do that, what if they find out who you are?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Bree said, waving a hand dismissively. “I didn’t use any of my real information. In fact--” she paused, biting back a laugh, “I didn’t even use my own picture.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in confusion. “What? Whose picture did you use?”

Bree bit her lip, trying to hold back her laughter. “Your prom photo.”

Elizabeth’s face went slack with shock. “You did what?”

“Oh, come on,” Bree said, unable to hold back a giggle. “It’s perfect! You look so sweet and sexy in that photo. It’s just for fun, Liz.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “Bree! You can’t just use my picture for something like that! You could get me into trouble!”

Bree shrugged, unbothered. “No worries, I edited out your face so there is no danger of ending up in the claws of one of these cougars. Unless you go on a date with one of them, that is. You were always too meek for your own good.”

Elizabeth glared at her, gripping her coffee mug a little tighter. “Please, take those images down Bree. My mom would die of a heart attack if someone found out that you put my pictures on a sex site.” She used her pleading voice, and Bree caved.

Bree’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Alright, alright. Don’t worry, I’ll take it down. But you have to admit, it’s kind of hilarious, right?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Only you would think that’s funny,” she muttered. But despite her best effort, a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, the absurdity of the situation making it hard to stay angry.

Bree grinned, giving her a playful nudge with her foot under the table. “See? You do have a sense of humor. I promise I’ll be good--this time.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. “You’d better, Bree. I don’t need any sugar mama drama in my life.”

“Fair enough,” Bree said with a wink. “But if one of them sends me a holiday gift, I’m totally sharing it with you.” She then turned a little more serieous. “But you should meet someone soon. Living like a nun is not becoming of a beautiful woman like you. I know Angela would love to hook up, just say the words.” Angela was one of Bree’s colleagues and she had met her several times. She was nice enough but Elizabeth was too afraid to tell her how she felt.

Elizabeth laughed, feeling the last of her irritation slip away. “I know Bee. But no more using my pictures, ok?”

“Got it,” Bree said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “For now, anyway.”

Elizabeth had just finished lunch and tried to focus on the project in front of her, staring at the blinking cursor on the screen, but her mind kept drifting back to Bree’s smile and the mention of her prom photo. What picture did she use? She had no idea Bree even kept that old photo--it was from years ago, back when Elizabeth had worn a pale blue dress had a nervous smile plastered on her face, trying to blend in at a school dance that had made her uncomfortable. She felt herself blush, that dress had been a tad to small up top and her breasts had threatened to pop out all night.

She shook her head, scolding herself. ‘Forget about it. It’s just Bree being Bree.’ But the thought wouldn’t leave her alone. Curiosity itched at the back of her mind, pulling her away from her work and making her wonder what kind of messages Bree had received. Her fingers tapped anxiously on the keyboard as she tried to focus, but it was no use.

What did Bree mean by ‘some very specific requests’? Her pulse quickened. She tried to remind herself that this was Bree’s game, not hers. Elizabeth was the sensible one, the reliable one--she didn’t do reckless things like sign up for a sugar mama website. And yet, the idea of sneaking just a peek had her curiosity humming with anticipation.

She managed to work half heartedly for an hour before she caved and convinced herself that it would be a good idea to hack Bree’s account and take a quick look. Bree had used the same passwords for ages and Elizabeth knew them all. She was a computer nerd after all.

With a shaking finger she klicked the link and a rather fancy looking webpage loaded. She was rather impressed with the quality of the design and she landed on the personal page of SluttyLizzie. She cringed, she hated that nickname and Bree knew it.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she saw the profile picture--a younger version of herself, her breasts almost spilling out of that pale blue prom dress, looking both innocent and a little awkward. It was surreal seeing her own photo staring back at her from Bree’s carefully crafted persona. She didn’t know whether to be flattered or furious. Her face was blurred so it calmed her somewhat.

Her prom photo had a caption ‘Im a good girl but I want to be bad’ If Bree only knew she thought. Her whole life she had been a good girl. Her mother and father had been strict but not too strict. No it was more that she imposed the good girl persona on herself.

‘Well’, she thought, clicking on the messages tab, ‘I’m in now. I might as well look.’

The inbox was full, dozens of messages, some playful and flirty, others straightforward and surprisingly polite, but a few ... Oh my god. Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she skimmed over the messages, her face heating with embarrassment. Some of them were explicit--offering gifts, vacations, even cash in exchange for her body. Others were strangely sweet, complimenting the supposed charm and grace of the girl in the photo. Some where outright rude, lewdly commenting on her large bust and what they wanted to do to her poor breasts.

So many older, powerful women treating young women like sex objects. Unconsciously she pressed her legs together as she browsed some of the profiles that had messaged her. Several of them was surprisingly good looking. What where they doing at a site like this?

Her heart raced, and she couldn’t help but wonder--was this what Bree found so fascinating? The attention, the thrill of being wanted, even if it was for all the wrong reasons?

Suddenly a message symbol popped up on the screen prompting a chat from a Lady_Boss. Without thinking, she clicked on it, her curiosity overpowering her caution and a chat window appeared.

Lady_Boss: Hello slut

She felt completely out of her element. This woman had called her a slut and she felt butterflies in her stomach. It was like a weird out of body experience.

SluttyLizzie: Hi

Lady_Boss: Your profile doesn’t look that slutty. Rather disappointing. Just a wannabe. Are you a wannabe?

Elisabeth starred at the screen. Who was this woman who just dismissed her? Treating her like an inferior? She pressed her legs together again letting out a gasp. It was as if her vagina had made the decision for her and her fingers again moved toward the keyboard.

SluttyLizzie: I’m no wannabe.

She typed defiantly. She had never been a wannabe at anything.

Lady_Boss: Prove it missy. You girls are all tease and no show. I want you to stand up right now and take a picture of your pussy. No more stalling, prove that you’re not worthless like all the others.

There was a war of conflicts inside her. The good girl side told her to put and end to this woman who humiliated her. Just shut the chat down and close the account for good. But the bad girl side had just awoken and wasn’t taking no for an answer. No one would know if she experimented a little. This was her chance to play bad for just a moment without danger.

Hesitantly she pulled down her pants to her knees and as she pulled down her panties a thick string of goo stuck to the insides for a moment. She had never been so turned on in her whole life. This was safe so she could just play along to this sex game. She let her fingers play a little with the light brown fur before plunging two fingers straight in her sopping pussy. She almost stumbled with her legs caught in her pants so she fell back down on the chair again.

Lady_Boss: Well I thought so, a fake like all the other.

In panic ELizabeth quickly typed an excuse.

SluttyLizzie: No please, I just had a problem with my room mate who just came home. I closed the door and now Im going to take that photo.

She was rather proud of her quick excuse and she tried to get a good shot of her vagina with the phone. It wasn’t as easy as it looked but after a few tries she airdropped them to the laptop and with shaking hands uploaded the image in the chat.

Lady_Boss: It was a good try but a proper slut doesn’t have a jungle down there. You have 20 minutes to shave your pussy bald like a proper slut and send me the evidence. You have 20 minutes to prove that you want to be a slut for me. I’ll even throw in a tip if you do as you are told.

She re-read the message twice. It felt like one of those sliding doors moment where the good girl missed the train. But the bad girl inside of her managed to squeeze herself into the carriage and suddenly Elisabeth rushed out of her chair and threw her pants on the nearby couch. Where did she put her shaving kit? Ahh, she rushed off to the bathroom and looked through the cabinet. She calmed down somewhat when she found her little toilette bag and put it on the counter.

She had to try and stop her hands shaking as she gingerly shaved off her bush. First she clipped it as fine as she could stopping a few times to breathe and steady her hand. Done with the clipper she lathered up, the smell of lavendel filling the bathroom.