Claire returned to her table to find the check laying in its usual spot. She picked it up to look at it. There was a white business card concealed beneath the check. She turned it over.

Mock Rape, inc.

Dark Fantasies Fulfilled

There was a phone number and logo which pictured a pair of feminine hands bound at the wrists. Claire stared at the card for a few moments in shock and puzzlement, then laid it face down as she had found it. She flagged down the waitress.

"Janet, did you leave this here?"

"No, what is it?"

Claire turned the card over.

"Oh, my god! Where did that come from?"

"I don't know. It was under the check when I picked it up. I thought you might have put it there."

"No, I've never seen it before. It's sort of scary. You want me to call the manager?"

"No, don't. I'm not sure I want anyone else to see it. You didn't see who put it there?"

"I wasn't watching. This is lunch hour and it's pretty busy. I can't imagine who would have left it."

"Have you ever seen one before?"

"Never. You want me to throw it away for you?"

"I think I'd better keep it. I want to see if I can find out where it came from. Would you watch to see if any more turn up?"

"Sure, I'll keep an eye out. I'll let you know if I see anything."

"Thanks." Claire paid her tab and left. As she went out the door, she couldn't help the feeling that she was being watched. She scanned the room but no one was paying any attention to her and she didn't see any unfamiliar faces. She decided she was being paranoid and returned to work.

At work, she found it difficult to concentrate. On two occasions she took the card out of her purse and looked at it, then hurriedly put it back for fear someone else might notice. As the afternoon wore on, Claire's agitation increased. Finally, it was time to leave. Claire looked around as she left the building, but didn't see anything unusual.

Claire warmed up some leftovers when she got home and tried to sort out her feelings as she ate. She was annoyed at the impact the card had on her equanimity. She was in an emotional uproar although nothing had actually happened. If she looked at it logically, nothing was likely to happen. The import of the card was that the next move was hers.

Nonetheless, she was disturbed. How had the card come to her? Was it random, or had she been selected to receive it? Was someone watching her? If she was a specific rather than a random target, why had she been selected? She felt insulted, frightened, and intrigued all at the same time. What made 'them' (whoever 'they' were) think she was interested? .

Was she interested? That was perhaps the most disturbing question. She supposed that most women had some sort of rape fantasy. Of course, no one wanted to be raped, but the idea of a man taking control of her, having his way with her, did have it's erotic aspects. There was a reason for the popularity of the bodice ripper genre. She had even read a few herself. Nevertheless, Claire found these sorts of feelings embarrassing, although she had to admit to herself that suppressing them only increased her turmoil. Maybe she should call the number on the card. She could at least try to get some of her questions answered. But it was scary. Receiving such a card was not normal. It could be dangerous. And even scarier was the possibility that she might surrender herself to the sorts of feelings that the card inspired. She decided to ignore it. After a day or two she would forget the card and things would be normal again.

Claire's next day at work was even more miserable than the previous one. She had brought her lunch and ate at her desk. She was afraid to go out-well, not really afraid, she told herself, just appropriately cautious. The day dragged on. She tried to bury herself in her work, but all she could think about was the little white card. She felt her coworkers were becoming aware of her agitation. She got almost nothing done. Finally, she made an excuse and left a couple of hours early.

At home, Claire made some tea. This was driving her crazy. She was angry that her life had been taken over like this. It made her even angrier that she allowed it to happen. It was just a stupid white business card. It wasn't doing anything to her. She was doing it to herself.

"Stop it!", Claire shouted. Getting angry seemed to help. She knew she had to call the number. The shot of adrenalin provided the necessary resolve. It was the only way to take back control of her life. She didn't have to subscribe to or purchase whatever it was. What she needed was a confrontation with these people. She would tell these people what she thought of them. She dialed the phone.

"Hello, Ms. Dunbar. I'm glad to hear from you. My name is Malcolm."

"You know my name! Who are you? What do you want from me?" Malcolm had shattered Claire's aplomb before she had even spoken a word. She wanted to hang up, but that would only make things worse. She would have to talk to Malcolm.

"Relax, it's only caller ID. My phone tells me that I'm being called by 'Dunbar, C.'. You must be Claire."

"You do know who I am. Oh, god, I'm being stalked."

"Hardly. After all, you called me. So, what can I do for you?"

"I got your card. Where did it come from? Why did I get it? Was it random, or was I supposed to get it?"

"The card was intended for you. Targeted marketing is essential in our business. Soliciting the wrong person can be embarrassing for all concerned."

"But how...who...why me?"

"As I said before, you called. Someone who was uninterested would simply have thrown the card away. She would never have called. You called."

"But I just called to find out what this is all about. I didn't call to hire you to do whatever it is you do."

"So wouldn't you like to know about what it is we do? As long as you're on the phone, you might as well find out what it is you're so frightened of."

"I'm not frightened. I just want to know what's going on."

"As much as I hate to contradict a customer..."

"I'm not a customer."

"Well, potential customer. Regardless, right now you don't sound like a woman who's cool, calm, and collected."

"Who can be cool and calm when they're being harassed? You don't..."

"Claire...Claire, relax. Take a deep breath. Again. Once more. Good. I hate to keep repeating myself, but you called me."

"But you started it. You gave me that card."

"You could have thrown it away. You didn't have to call. Now, wouldn't you like to hear what we have to offer?"

"Alright. Tell me. Get it over with."

"As you wish. We provide a service. We will fulfill your darkest fantasies. All you have to do is fill out a form, outlining your fantasies in as much or as little detail as you like. We will make them come true with no real danger to yourself. You will survive the experience unharmed and free of any diseases you do not already have. Once you receive the form, just fill it out and send it in with your payment and we'll do the rest."

"I'm still not sure exactly what you do."

"You tell us. You're the customer. Shall I send you a form?"

"I don't think so. This doesn't sound like my sort of thing."

"If you say so, but it won't hurt to look over the form. There's no obligation and nothing will happen unless you send it in with payment."

"So what do you charge for this 'service'."

"The cost is $1500 with a $500 rebate if you complete the fantasy. You can cancel at any time, even during your experience"

"I don't understand. Why a rebate?"

"The rebate functions as coercion. You will be given a code word. If you say the word at any time, the fantasy is over in that instant. Many of our customers are turned on by the element of coercion. Since that's lost if they can stop any time they want, we have provided an incentive not to use the word. If you use the word, you lose your rebate. Use of the word will cost you $500."

"Either way, that's a lot of money."

"And what price would you put on fantasy? Think of it as a vacation. Surely you'd spend $1000 on a vacation."

"Yeah, but a vacation would be a week or more, not an hour or two."

"Typically, our fantasies take 24 to 48 hours. Consider it a weekend vacation. You couldn't get an individually tailored vacation for that amount of money anywhere."

"What if I didn't like it?"

"Just say the word and it stops. Shall I send you the forms?"

"OK. Send me the forms. You don't do anything unless I send them in-that's for sure isn't it?"

"That's for sure. This is a commercial enterprise. If you don't pay, you don't get a fantasy."

"I'll look at the forms, but there's no way I'm doing this."

"That's quite alright. It's your decision. Thank you for calling, Claire. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Claire felt better. She still had mixed emotions about the whole thing, but at least she had some idea what it was all about and felt reasonably sure nothing would happen unless she sent the forms back. She slept more soundly that night than she had since the card had first appeared.

The next day she came home to find an envelope in the mail with no return address. She opened it to find a cover letter and several pages of forms. She read the letter.

Dear Claire:

Thank you for considering our services. MRI hopes to provide you with a fantasy that you will find fulfilling. In order to design an experience that is suited to your desires, please fill out the attached forms. Put an 'X' next to the items you wish to exclude and an 'O' next to the items you would like included. All other items will be optional at our discretion. We suggest you mark as few items as possible, since the essence of this experience is the surrender of yourself to your guide. Most of our customers find they enjoy the experience more when they don't know what is going to happen.

After you finish, return it in the enclosed envelope along with $1,500. Personal checks are accepted, but your fantasy will not take place until the check has cleared.

Your code word is 'consanguinity'. This is not a word you are likely to use in normal conversation, so there will be no doubt as to your intent should you use it. Remember that there is a $500 charge for use of your word. If you complete your fantasy without using the word, you will receive a rebate of $500.

After receipt of your payment and paperwork, we will begin work on designing your fantasy. Your fantasy will take place anywhere from 2 days to 2 months after payment clears. You will not be informed when it will take place. It will simply happen to you. The timing may or may not be convenient, so you may want to make preparations to be gone for a day or two without notice to anyone. We trust you will not disclose the true nature of your absence.

Thank you for considering MRI. We look forward to serving you.

Malcolm

Claire looked over the forms They listed a wide variety of sexual activities. She started filling them out. She had no intention of mailing the forms, but there was a certain vicarious thrill attached to the process of filling them in. She listed her name and put her code word in the appropriate blank.

She browsed the lists. Oral, anal, and vaginal penetration. She put an 'X' next to anal. She almost marked out oral. She'd never done a blow job. She was mildly repulsed by the idea, but left it in anyway. She also marked out 'gang bang' and 'lesbian experience'. Her fantasies were usually more private, one-on-one. She went on down the list. Vibrators, dildos, autoeroticism. Leave it up to them. Bondage, spanking. Spanking? Well, maybe. She could always stop if it was too much. Water sports, piss drinking. Both out. She didn't put any O's on the sheet. It would be more fun if left up to them. Piercing, branding, tattoos. No, no, and no. This part was getting scary. Servitude, obedience training. Another maybe. She could always stop it. She finished the form, then put it in the return envelope, then secreted the envelope in her jewelry box. She didn't want it laying around where someone might see it.

Claire was nearly back to normal the next day at work. She still felt some anxiety, but she was no longer troubled by the white card. It's place had been taken by the envelope. She kept thinking about it. It didn't upset her the way the card had, but neither could she get it out of her mind.

At home that evening, she took the forms out again and looked at them. The thought occurred to her that she had not given Malcolm her address. She was not in the phone book. Nevertheless, the envelope had arrived, correctly addressed. These people had known where she lived. Malcolm had also avoided the question of how and why she had been chosen to receive the card, but had made it clear that there was nothing random about her possession of it. And how had the card been delivered? Claire began to feel that her original fears had been justified. What had drawn their attention to her?

Claire threw the forms in the trash, then pulled them out again. In spite of the apprehension she felt, she was drawn by what the forms represented. She thought about calling Malcolm again, but decided not to. The result of her last attempt to give Malcolm and his people a piece of her mind was the envelope in her hand. What would Malcolm talk her into if she called him again?

Tension built up in Claire over the next several days. She continued taking her lunch to work so she wouldn't have to go out. She was suspicious of any strangers who looked at her. She could find no real sign of anyone watching her, but she felt as if she was being stalked. The envelope was always in her thoughts. It frightened her, but it excited her, too.

Increasingly, the envelope preyed on her mind. One evening several days later, she couldn't stand it anymore. She wrote a check and dropped the envelope in the mail. She still had a couple of days to stop the check, she told herself. What was odd was the sense of relief she felt. The problem was now out of her hands. At the same time, she was appalled. She had just paid someone $1000 to rape her. Claire was pretty sure this was not normal behavior. Why did she feel relief after mailing the envelope?

Claire went to bed and slept fitfully. The next day she was as troubled as ever. Finally, late in the day, she called the bank to stop the check, but it had already cleared. Claire couldn't believe it. They shouldn't even have received it yet. How could she have been such an idiot? Her money was gone and they were going to do god only knew what to her. She could always use the code word, but that would cost her $500 and she was not altogether convinced they would honor it.

When she got home, she located the white card and called Malcolm's number. It was disconnected. Now she was really frightened. She considered going to the police, but no crime had actually been committed. Besides, Malcolm had her check and the forms she'd filled out. She could imagine how embarrassing it would be if they should be produced.

A nervous month went by and Claire had nearly convinced herself that it had all been a con and nothing was going to happen. As she left work one evening, there was a van she'd never seen before parked next to her car. She was suspicious and walked up behind the van, peering through the windows. It was dark in the van, but it appeared to be empty. She walked to her car and fumbled with the key. It didn't seem to want to go in the door lock. Claire looked closely and realized something was jammed in the lock, preventing her key from going in. About this realization dawned, the van door was flung open. A canvas bag was pulled over her head and tied about her neck. Claire was pulled into the van and her wrists were tied behind her and her ankles bound. Then she was laid in one of the seats and fastened down with seatbelts. The van pulled out of the parking garage into traffic.

Claire considered her predicament. She was bound and uncomfortable, but not unbearably so. For a moment she panicked, unable to remember her code word. Consanguinity, that was it, consanguinity. Claire clung to the word. It was her life buoy.

The van continued it's journey. Claire was trying to decide if there were one or two abductors. She had never actually felt more than one pair of hands on her at any one time, but her ankles had been bound so rapidly after her wrists, she suspected there were either two men or one very fast one. There were no sounds in the van. No conversation, no radio, nothing to give her a sense of time.

After what she guessed was more than thirty minutes and less than two hours, the van stopped. She heard only one front door open, then the side door opened. Claire's ankles were untied and she was pulled from the van and set on her feet. The bag was removed from her head and a blindfold quickly tied into place.

Claire had gotten only a brief look at her surroundings before the blindfold had cut off her sight again. She was in a garage. It was large enough for two or three vehicles in addition to the van. She had been unable to see her abductor.

A choke chain collar was looped around her neck. She resisted the first tug, but a sharp snap of the leash closed the chain tightly about her neck. Claire gurgled and stumbled forward. She was led through a door which was closed with a heavy thud, then locked. The echo of her heels clicking on the hard floor told her she was in a corridor. She was led down the corridor and through another equally heavy door. The floor here was thinly carpeted. After a few paces, the leash went slack and Claire stopped. She stood waiting for whatever was next. Bound and blindfolded, there was nothing else to do. Claire's emotions were conflicted. She didn't feel particularly aroused. Apprehension and curiosity predominated. After what she guessed was several minutes nothing had happened.

"Hello," she called. "Is anyone ..."

"Silence. You have not been given permission to speak."

Claire jumped. The voice was almost in her ear. She hadn't realized anyone was standing so near. The voice was a clear baritone with just the hint of an accent she couldn't identify.

The chain choker was removed and something buckled in its place around her neck. From its feel, Claire guessed it was leather. She felt it being gently tugged and heard the snick of a small lock. Her hands were untied. She stood rubbing her wrists for a moment, still blindfolded. Then she reached up to feel the collar she was wearing, but a pair of hands seized her wrists and pulled then back down to her sides.

"I was only trying...Ow!" She had been slapped sharply across the cheek.

"You were told not to speak. Any further disobedience will be met with more severe punishment."

Claire was frightened now. This was not quite what she had expected. So far her adventure had proven to be anything but a turn-on. She thought about using the word, but didn't. It would cost her $500 to use it, but there was a greater fear. As long as she held the word in reserve, she could use it as a security blanket. If she used it and it was ignored, she was left without anything to which to cling. As long as she didn't use it, she could pretend there was an escape.

"Undress."

The command shocked her back to consciousness of her surroundings. She hesitated and felt the sting of a switch across the back of her calves.

"Oww, that hurt."

"This one will hurt even more."

"Ahh! Stop."

"Do as you were ordered."

Claire began unbuttoning her blouse. She slipped it off and held it out tentatively.

"Drop it, then continue."

Claire let the blouse slip from her fingers, then began on her bra. She dropped it on the floor on top of the blouse. She stepped out of her shoes and unfastened her skirt. When she had removed everything except her panties, she hesitated.

"Oww!" The switch struck the back of her thighs.

"You were told to undress. Are you undressed?"

"No, sir." Why had she called him 'sir'? It made her angry, but she felt the need to appease. She didn't want to be switched again.

"Then get that way."

Claire pulled down her panties and stepped out of them. She stood naked except for her blindfold and collar. Nothing happened for several minutes. She was pretty sure her captor was inspecting her. Then her arm was seized. Something was buckled snugly around her wrist, then she heard the snick of another small lock. The process was repeated with her other wrist, then her wrists were pulled behind her and fastened. Cuffs were then locked on her ankles.

Her ankle cuffs were fastened together. Then her wrists freed, fastened in front, pulled overhead and fastened. Claire was now standing with her arms over her head so that her body was drawn taut.

Hands cupped her breasts, then she felt the fingers on her nipples. Claire moaned softly, then screeched as something clamped down on first one nipple then the other.

"Don't," she pleaded. "Take them off."

"Open your mouth."

Against her better judgement, Claire complied. Something was jammed in her mouth and held in place by a strap buckled behind her neck.

"You probably thought your silly code word would save you, didn't you."

Before Claire could react to this remark, she felt a sting across the small of her back. It was quickly followed by another and another. Claire was lashed from neck to ankles. Each blow hurt but was bearable; however, the cumulative effect soon had her sobbing softly. She was being whipped. She couldn't believe it. And what was worse, she had paid them to do it. It wasn't just the pain that made her cry; she felt like such a fool.

After she had been thoroughly worked over, her arms were taken down and fastened behind her. Claire yelped as the clamps were removed from her nipples. She was bent over a table or bench and her collar fastened to the surface of it. Her ankles were spread and locked in place. Then she was fucked. Claire reflected that this was an accurate description of her situation on a number of levels. She was being fucked. Nonetheless, Claire experienced a surprisingly healthy orgasm. She was embarrassed and ashamed that she could have an orgasm under such conditions. It was all so mechanical. Do this...stand there...silence!...obey. She started to cry again. She felt so humiliated.

Claire felt her gag being unbuckled. It was pulled out and she closed her mouth, the ache in her jaw intensified by the unaccustomed motion. She tried to speak.

"Consequent...ow!" She had been lashed across the small of her back.

"You still don't have permission to speak," said the voice.

Consequently? She had tried to use her word, but had gotten it wrong. Consignment? Containment? Consecutively? Conserv... "Gachh!" Something had been shoved in her mouth. It took Claire a moment to realize what it was. She raised her head, trying to clear her mouth of the thing that was relentlessly thrusting itself into her.

"You've never done a blow job, have you."

Fingers laced themselves into her hair and pulled her head back down, then up again. Claire let her neck go limp as her head was bobbed up and down on the shaft.

"Lick...suck."

Claire made a half hearted effort to comply, then yelped as she was lashed again.

"Try harder," said the voice. "You're going to keep doing this until you get it right."

Claire increased her efforts. After a bit, her captor grunted and the back of her throat was spayed with a warm liquid.

"Swallow."

Claire gulped and swallowed, then the rapidly shrinking member was pulled out. Claire's attempt to speak was interrupted as her stomach heaved and she threw up on the floor..

"Damn," was all the voice said.

Claire was unfastened and pulled to an upright position. She groaned as her muscles uncramped themselves. Something was held to her lips.

"Drink."

Claire drank. As near as she could tell, it was water. Her gag was replaced, then her wrists fastened overhead again.

This time she was whipped on her frontside. Thighs, stomach, breasts. Claire jerked and struggled. Her captor would simply wait until she stopped moving, then land another blow. After a while it stopped. It had been more intense than her first whipping, but had not lasted as long.

Claire's hands were tied behind her again. Then she was picked up and carried to another room and deposited on a soft surface. Covers were pulled over her. She realized she was in a bed. Someone climbed in beside her. His body covered hers and pressed it into the mattress. She was fucked again. Claire fell asleep.

Sometime later she awoke. Her head was pulled beneath the covers and she was given another blow job lesson. This time she managed not to throw up. She fell asleep again. The pattern repeated. Fuck, nap, blow job, nap.

When next she awoke, she was picked up, placed on the floor and hogtied. Her collar was attached to the floor. Claire remained uncomfortably bound for an indeterminate period of time, after which she was untied and helped to her feet. She did not try to remove her blindfold. Her hands were pulled behind her and locked in handcuffs. She was gagged and led from the room.

Claire was placed in the van and secured in the same way she had been when she arrived, except this time she was naked. After a trip which seemed similar in length to the previous one, the van stopped. Claire was unstrapped and her ankles freed. She was helped from the van and stood quietly on what felt like pavement while her wrists were freed and then locked in front of her. A light chain was threaded through the center link of the handcuffs and locked around her waist, pinning her wrists to her stomach. A small object was placed in her hand. After a moment, the van door slammed and she heard it drive off.

Claire had no idea where she was. She was standing naked, handcuffed, gagged, and blindfolded. She thought she was outdoors. She could hear traffic and feel a breeze. She felt more vulnerable now than at any previous time in her captivity. She couldn't hear anyone around and hoped she was alone. She feared she was on a street corner. Claire took a tentative step and stubbed her toe. She had to get the blindfold off, but couldn't reach it with her hands chained to her waist.

Examining the object in her hand, she realized it was a ring of keys. There were three of them. She fumbled for a considerable period of time, trying to unlock the handcuffs. She dropped the keys. Claire extended one leg and swept the ground with her foot until she located them. She squatted, but was unable to reach the ground. Finally, she was forced to kneel, then lie down and roll around until she got her hands on the keys. She found the keyhole on her left wrist, and after more fumbling, she was able to unlock it with the second key she tried. She reached up and tried to remove her blindfold, but it was buckled tightly in place and locked. She unlocked her right wrist. With both hands free, she was able to unlock and remove her blindfold.

Claire blinked and looked around. She knew where she was. She was just inside the entrance to the parking garage where she parked every day. She could see traffic passing on the street. It was dark out, and the garage was apparently deserted. Running across the lot to the elevator, she pushed the button and waited forever for it to arrive, afraid someone would come in and see her. Finally, it came and she got in and pushed the button for level four. The elevator rose, then stopped on level three. She huddled in the corner, terrified. The door opened, but no one was there. The elevator continued to level four.

Exiting the elevator, she saw her car across the empty lot where she had left it. She ran to it. Her keys! She didn't have her car keys. She tried the doors. Locked. In a panic, she tried the trunk. It opened; her keys were laying inside. Claire opened the car and got in. It started easily. As she started to back out, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She was still gagged. In her panic, she had forgotten the gag. She fumbled with the keys again and unlocked it. She also removed her collar. Only one more problem. She was still naked. She got out and opened the trunk again. She kept a blanket there for emergencies. She wrapped it around herself like a bath towel and drove home.

Her clothes lay neatly on her sofa. She saw them as soon as she opened the front door. They had been in her house. For a moment she was frightened again. What if they were still in the house? Claire got hold of herself. It wasn't likely. Why would they bother? If they wanted her, they wouldn't have released her. Just the same, it troubled her that they had been in her house. She took a shower and went to bed, but slept fitfully.

Claire was not pleased with her purchase. It was Sunday morning. She had been abducted on Friday afternoon and released Saturday, sometime after midnight. She was trying to sort out her feelings about the whole thing. It had not turned out to be the thrill that she had secretly hoped for. She felt so used. She had been grabbed, bound, whipped, fucked, fucked some more, then dumped naked in a parking lot. Nothing about it conformed to her idea of a romantic interlude. Snatched, forced to perform, then cast aside. The orgasms she had experienced caused her only anger and embarrassment. It had not been as traumatic as a real rape, but neither had there been anything erotic about the episode. She only hoped she would get her five hundred dollars back. As it was, she was going to have to take some money out of savings to make it to her next paycheck.