Miranda couldn't believe that people posted crap like this to the internet. It was obviously just spam, posted to the targeted audience of one of the web personals sites. It was posted in the category 'Male seeking Female' with the headline 'Submit yourself to me'. When she opened the message, it seemed too ridiculous to take seriously. The poster claimed to have a subliminal hypnosis program that would work through a computer monitor.

' Complete every session, and it will turn you into a completely submissive slut who will do anything to be humiliated and abused. Don't say I didn't warn you.'

Well there's a sales pitch. Who the hell did the guy expect to sell this program to, women who had nothing better to do than fantasize about being his fuck-toy? He had an awfully big opinion of himself.

She considered flagging the post for removal, but just out of a perverse curiosity, Miranda clicked on the e-mail link.

' How do I get the program?' she asked.

She fully expected to get a reply with a request for $24.95, cheque, money order, or Visa, thank you very much. By the time the response came the next evening, she had almost forgotten that she even sent the e-mail. Instead of a request for cash, attached to her e-mail was a file named 'Sbmit1.exe'.

Okay, so it wasn't spam. Correction. It wasn't spam ... yet. The creep would still probably ask for money for Sbmit2 or 3. Either that, or the program was just a delivery device for a virus. No big deal, Miranda figured. She had bought a new computer recently, and the old was still hooked up. All she had to do was load the program into the old computer. That way, she could see what the program was about, and not take any risks with a virus.

Miranda copied the program onto her flash drive, and took it to the spare room, to where the older computer had been displaced. She wasn't sure why she even bothered. Boredom probably. Her husband's new schedule had him working evenings. Patrick wouldn't be home from work for another couple of hours, and she usually just spent this time cruising the internet. It would be good for a laugh anyhow.

Upon opening the file, the screen of the older computer displayed a message. Green text. Very old-school.

' Hypnotic display session 1

Duration 5 minutes followed by instructions

Press <enter> to continue '

She pressed the key. The screen began to flash with an array of colors, first slowly, and then with a rapidly increasing pace. Nothing terribly complex. Simple designs floated through her line of vision. She had to admit that the visual stimulation was relaxing, and even somewhat erotic, but there was no hypnotic trance. It was just a cute little graphics program. After five minutes, the screen gently phased back into text, displaying a screen full of instructions.

' Print this page now ' were the first instructions. Miranda clicked in the command to send the file to the printer. She didn't mind playing along with the program. It seemed harmless enough, and she did have some sexual tension to work off. When the page was printed, she pulled it from the printer and began to read.

' Suspend your disbelief. If you have come this far, you are at least willing to do that. Give these instructions the next half hour of your life.'

Miranda decided that she could do that. As a part-time editor for a book publisher, being able to suspend disbelief was almost an occupational requirement. She tried not to allow her eyes to skip ahead on the page, as was her habit when reading.

' Take this set of instructions with you to a place where you can view yourself in a mirror. I want you to see yourself obey my commands. Once you see how much it turns you on to follow my commands, you will be mine. '

Miranda picked up the sheet of paper, and brought it to the bedroom. She set it down on the dresser and looked into the full length mirror on the bathroom door. She smiled at her reflection, feeling a little silly for playing along with the author of these words.

' Remove all of your clothing. Do this quickly now. I know that you are eager to be naked for me. '

She had no reason to feel self conscious. She was the only one around. Nonetheless, it felt odd stripping of her clothes at the written commands. She thought of the thrill it might give the author if he knew that she was actually going through with it.

Miranda looked at her body in the mirror. She had been working out recently, and was quite proud of the results. She turned and inspected her body for a minute before reading the next instructions.

' Symbols are important. You will wear a symbol for me, to show your submission. Find a strip of black cloth, ribbon, or string, and tie it around your neck. It will be the only ornament on your naked body. It will symbolize your obedience to me. '

Miranda liked the direction this was going. In truth, the initial reason she had been looking in the online personals, and that she opened a message titled ' Submit yourself to me' was because she took a thrill from games of domination. Patrick tried his best, but he wasn't really into it. So, she often lived vicariously through personals and stories posted to the internet. Not that she ever intended to do anything about it, but it helped to satisfy her appetites.

She went to the closet, and looked for a suitable piece of black cloth. After a minute of searching, she finally just decided to remove the shoelace from a black pair of boots. When she went back to the mirror, she watched her reflected self as she tied the lace around her neck. She smiled at herself again. This was getting her really horny. Who would have guessed that she would enjoy participatory fiction?

' The black band around your neck is your slave collar. If you had any doubts about serving me, they are gone now. Through this symbol of submission, I am in the room with you now, watching you through the mirror. Come closer now. I want to touch you. '

Miranda took a step closer to the mirror. She moved the page of instructions along the top of the dresser so that she could still read it.

' Your nipples are pointed now. I can see them through your eyes. Your hand will act as mine. Explore your body with it. Feel my hand upon your flesh. '

She moved her right hand across her body now. She watched herself in the mirror. With little effort, she could imagine that the hand exploring her body belonged to someone else; to the unknown author. She cupped her own breasts, and circled the nipples. They were hard between her fingers. She felt up and down her body, showing her imaginary lover every inch.

Her hand went to the string around her neck. She liked the look of it in the mirror. She imagined that his hand was tight around the collar, and that he was in total control of her. Her hand ran across her belly, around her hip, and caressed her naked ass. She could imagine his body pressed up against her, perhaps his cock brushing across the curve of her ass. When her hand finally found her pussy, it was like an electric jolt went through her body. She looked back to the instructions.

' You are showing me your pussy now. You are guiding my fingers into your wetness. My fingers are hot with your juices. I can feel you pushing your body against me. You want me to finish you. Not yet. I want to taste you first. Guide my fingers to your mouth, slave. Taste them for me. '

It was like he was in the room with her, and the words on the page almost took on a real voice. Without hesitation, Miranda brought her fingers to her lips, and sunk them to her mouth. She sucked them eagerly, working her tongue around her fingers. Her taste was strong.

' Look me in the eyes. I can see into your soul. Bring your lips to mine, and I will let you cum. '

Those were the last of the instructions. Miranda caught her own eyes in the mirror. They were eyes that could see every secret she held. She brought her lips to the mirror. The glass was cold, but she could feel his tongue against hers. Her hand had found her pussy again.

"Mmmf, " she hear herself groan, as she strained to push her tongue further into the glass. The mirror was fogging under her hot breath.

Her legs were weak. She dropped to her knees in front of the mirror, but her mouth would not free itself. Her lips slid down the mirror, keeping her in contact with the tongue of her lover. All of her feelings came now from the black lace around her neck. Even as her pussy began to send shock waves of pleasure through her body, the feelings seemed to be an originate from the collar around her neck.

I am a slave, she told herself silently. A submissive slut. To be used. Abused. Fucked by my master.

The collar felt so heavy. The mirror was warming against her lips. Her pussy was throbbing against her hand. When she finally lost control, she swore that she could feel the mirror kissing back.

Miranda thought a lot about the program while she was at work the next day. It gave her little shivers of excitement. It was exactly what she was missing in her love life; a little harmless fun with a dominant lover. A fantasy lover, but a lover nonetheless. She still wore the shoelace, as a reminder, tied tightly around her ankle.

She still didn't put any stock in the idea of the subliminal hypnosis program. The screen display was just a nice little prelude, and helped to put her into the mood. It was just a psychological tool really, to allow her to take the written instructions seriously. If the instructions had come to her any other way, she was sure that she would have ignored them.

"How far do I want to go with this?" she found herself asking aloud, while alone in her office. She certainly didn't want to let Patrick know about the program. It all seemed pretty harmless, though. She would play it by ear.

She sent another e-mail that evening.

' How do I get the next session?'

To her surprise, the e-mail response was back within an hour.

' Fill out this questionnaire with your personal information. Enclose your slave collar in the same envelope, and send it to me. It is a symbol of your obedience, given freely to me. '

The address was to a man called Walker, and was over half a continent away from Miranda's home. Up to this point, Miranda had been careful to only send e-mail through an anonymous address. She was a little concerned about providing her personal information to this Walker. She opened the file to the questionnaire, and was relieved to find that it didn't ask any questions that would reveal her identity. The questions were about her physical description, sexual preferences, and marital status.

For a minute, she considered lying about the details, but somehow that felt wrong. Anyhow, there was no danger in answering truthfully. This guy was miles away, and had no idea who she was. He might find out where she mailed the letter from by reading the postmark, but there was no way that she was putting down a return address.

So, she filled out the questionnaire and enclosed it in an envelope. Miranda untied the lace from around her ankle. For some reason, she was reluctant to part with the black shoelace. The man was right, symbols are important. Nonetheless, she was anxious to receive the next session of the program, so she dropped the lace into the envelope and sent the letter.

The next two weeks, Miranda anxiously awaited a reply in her e-mail. She couldn't believe how excited she was about getting her next set of instructions. When she finally received an e-mail from the man named Walker, she opened it immediately.

' I'm pleased that you obeyed my directions. Are you ready to take it one step further? Your instructions await following the presentation of Sbmit2.exe. '

Miranda liked the sounds of this. She was definitely ready to go further. This time she didn't bother to load the program onto the second computer, and ran it right away.

' Hypnotic display session 2

Duration 10 minutes followed by instructions

Press <enter> to continue '

She pressed the key. This program was much better than the first. Within the shimmering colors of the display, Miranda could make out what seemed to be human forms. The glimpses were brief, and left her looking for more. The images were ghostly. She thought she saw a woman ... no ... two women. Were they being whipped? The scene was too fleeting.

Miranda could feel her body reacting. There was no way to know if it was the result of the images of the display, or the anticipation of the following instructions. By the time the images faded, and the screen phased slowly back to text, Miranda was shaking with sexual desire. She printed the page immediately.

' You have come this far, though you still doubt the effects of the display. Perhaps you were born to be my slave. Perhaps the program does nothing. It is not important. What is important is that you know that you will do exactly what I say, because you are my little whore now. You will enjoy every moment of your surrender to me. '

Miranda was reading quickly. She needed to cum so badly now.

' I will give you only one chance to continue. If you cannot follow my instructions exactly, I have no further use for you. Symbols are important, little one. I hold your slave collar in my hand as I write these instructions.'

The thought sent shivers through Miranda's body.

' Tonight you will wear black panties as our symbol. Get them now. You will wear them with a short skirt for me, and then I will tell you what to do. '

She took the sheet of paper with her to the bedroom. She stripped out of her jeans, and pulled off her white panties. In her dresser, she had a pair of lacy black panties that Patrick had bought for her. They were perfect. She also found a short skirt to wear. Instinctively, she looked tot he mirror for Walker's approval. Her bare legs looked delicious. She could hardly wait to get her hands between them.

' How slutty you must feel, wearing only black panties and a tiny little skirt. What kind of a whore would go out in public wearing what you are wearing now? You will. I'll see to it. I have made some plans for you this evening. '

Miranda could feel her heart swelling with a mixture of fear and excitement. This game was going too far. What if someone saw her? What would they think? Her mind protested the commands on the printed page, but her body was anxious to feel the sting of humiliation. Perhaps, even, the sting of his whip. She consumed the rest of the instructions eagerly.

' I have arranged an encounter. You will display yourself for me. I met a man in a chat room yesterday. He lives in your city. Your are going to show him your black panties, and when he sees you wearing them, he will know that what I've told him is true. He will know that you are my little slut. That you belong to me. '

' What will I let him do to you? You are anxious to know. '

' Why, nothing, my dear little pet. I could have you do anything, couldn't I? But tonight, this man will only watch. He will see you at the main branch of the public library. He will be upstairs, at a study table, and you will sit across from him. Perhaps no one will notice as he looks up your skirt through a mirror in his lap. '

' What a naughty little slut you are to be spreading your legs so. He will watch as you drop your hand under your skirt, and squirm out of your panties. He'll see them around your ankles. Does anyone else see what's going on? It doesn't matter. '

' He'll watch your face as you begin to stroke your pussy for me. You will see his eyes drop down to the mirror in his lap. Imagine how it will feel to have a total stranger watch you as you slide your fingers along your wet pussy. You must feel like a real slut, knowing that you will do this for me. '

' Give him a good show for me. He will be there at eight o' clock. When you are done, mail me your black panties to receive the next session. '

Miranda's internal debate didn't last long. This was more excitement than she had ever had with Patrick, and she knew that she couldn't resist. In less than an hour, she was at the library.

One of the librarians was watching her as she climbed the narrow set of stairs. From her vantage point, she could probably see most of the way up Miranda's skirt. Her face flushed red. It wasn't even summer. She looked totally out of place in the tiny little skirt. At least the library was fairly empty this evening.

On the second floor, she looked for the study tables. She was a few minutes early, and the study tables were empty. She couldn't help but scan the room. Where was this man? Was he waiting among the rows of books, or had he been downstairs, watching for her in the lobby? She was breathing heavily. She was sure than anyone would be able to see her state of excitement.

Eight o'clock came. She was in amongst the rows of books, watching the tables. The suspense was killing her. Then, like clockwork, and man came up the stairs and stationed himself at one of the study tables. She started to go over, to sit across from the man, when another library patron came out from the rows of books and took a place at the second table. He flashed her a smile. Her heart raced. She had almost chosen the wrong man.