Chapter 3

The next morning came too early. I made sure Darla continued sleeping as I went back to my house. I uploaded all the pictures that I had to my computer. I then purchased a domain name and set up a website, putting several hundred of the pictures on the site, as well as all the videos I had made. Then, I set up the cameras I had installed at the Grant house to be a constant live online feed. I encrypted the site, requiring three different encrypted passwords and took several other measures to insure that the site would never be accessed by anyone other than me—at least for now.

After I finished with all that, I made my way back across the street, lying back down next to the still sleeping Darla; it was already 11:30am. I immediately had her awaken. I had my arm across her chest and when she awoke, I acted like her movements had awakened me.

"Morning," I said softly.

She smiled and said, "Morning. What time is it?"

She looked at the clock, "It's 11:30!"

"I never sleep this late!" I reacted surprised before adding, "I guess all the fun last night wore me out. I'm starved, go fix us something to eat!"

"Can I shower first?" she asked. She then said, before I could answer, "I need to call Matt first."

"Call him, take a shower, and since he's going to come over, go ahead and get dressed."

She called him only this time it was a halfway cordial conversation. Although Matt was immediately nervous, he agreed to come over at 2:00 that afternoon.

I was waiting outside the shower when she got out, startling her. I looked her over from head-to-toe, her body dripping wet.

"You're sexy like that," I commented.

"Thanks," she smiled, "You scared me."

"Sorry," I replied and then asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, "Did you get a look at him?"

"No," I lied, "He came up behind me with a gun. He blindfolded, cuffed me, and put me in Deanna's room. He took the DVD that was in the camera but he left this."

It was two sheets of paper with a website address on one and a letter on the other. I didn't immediately tell her about the letter. She quickly dried off, wrapping a towel around her body and one around her hair. She took the paper with the web address from me and went to the computer, which was in the living room. A few moments later, we were staring at the website I had set up only a few hours before.

Just before the website came up, I made sure she would be extremely embarrassed by the images and more determined than ever to do whatever it took to keep them all quiet.

The first thing that popped up was a large picture of a soccer player, under which said "click the picture." She did so but was prompted for a password. Several passwords (which were on the paper), and several links later, we were finally at the real site.

"Oh God!" she said taken aback by the images, "He put them online?!"

"According to this letter," I replied, "The website cannot be accessed without the measures we have just gone through. But if at any point you decide to stop cooperating, everyone you know—family, friends, coworkers, etc.—will all be given a direct website address.

She looked at several of the pictures, one of which was a close-up of a cock going into her asshole. A video selection next to the picture instructed the viewer to "click here to see this picture in action." She clicked the link and a few moments later, we watched and listened as her asshole was pummeled by the cock.

She immediately turned away from the computer and said, "I can't look at that anymore. It's sick."

She then thought to herself, "I can never let this get out. I would be completely ruined."

"I am so embarrassed," she said after a pause, "I don't know why, I just am. I can't believe how things are spiraling out of my control. A few days ago, if you would have told me I was going to be tangled in a mess like this, I would said you were absolutely out of your sick mind."

"We'll get out of this," I assured her, hugging her reassuringly, "I'll be here with you through it all."

"Joe, you are wonderful. Dale would probably have thrown me out of the house," she replied beginning to cry, "But you have done everything possible to help me, including sex even though I have continued to be raped. You truly care about me."

"I do care," I told her, "I'm going to keep helping you until we figure this out."

"I can never repay you enough," she replied smiling thankfully.

"Don't worry about that," I smiled back and lightly pointed out, "Sex with you, even if it came about out of necessity, is payment enough."

She smiled and said nothing. But she thought, "I should have had sex with you a long time ago," but just as quickly admonished herself, "Darla, you are a married woman! What about Dale? He loves you! You are doing this because you have too, NOT because you want too!"

But as if possessed by another personality, another voice immediately said, "But he is so nice and I love how he takes control," and out of nowhere she thought, "I would love to see him whip Dale's ass just like he has me."

Just before Matt left his house to come to Darla's, I planted the idea of him asking his wife, Martha, to go with him. Simultaneously, made sure Martha would accept an invitation to go somewhere with her husband, regardless of where if asked. Of course he asked, and she accepted without even a slight hesitation.

Although she didn't know why, as soon as Martha got in the car with Matt, she had an overwhelming urge to humiliate Darla Grant in every conceivable way. The urge to do so was so overwhelming, it was even turning her on. Instead of her being perplexed by her emotions, I made sure Martha was embracing them to the fullest.

Matt, on the other hand, believed that Martha had accompanied him on each late night visit (I had "reminded" Matt that he and Martha had raped Darla each night that week) and was simply coming along again. Neither would ever 'compare notes.' I also made sure Matt "forgot" that he didn't wear a mask the night before, therefore he remained under the impression that Darla had no idea who was raping her. However, I made sure he remained nervous about the idea of her finding out their identities.

As for Darla, as the Hall's were pulling in the driveway, I planted a memory of two people being in the room the night before, although her "memory" said only one actually raped her. The other, a woman, simply directed and threatened her and her family (I made sure Martha 'remembered' to continue her threats, liberally referencing the night before. Each time Martha would say, "Do you remember what I said last night" or any similar phrase, Darla would automatically recall the threat as though it really happened).

Martha actually had a dominant trait, but she had never fully learned to utilize it—other than on her kids, and only as in a motherly sense. In a dominatrix sense, she had never taken advantage of it. I made sure that changed significantly. However, she had absolutely no desires to be with another woman. This I quickly changed, implanting a strong desire to sexually humiliate and forcefully dominate other women by whatever means necessary, fixating that desire on Darla and her family.

Martha is a very attractive older woman. According to her (her thoughts), she is 49 years old and weighs 150 pounds. She thinks of herself as attractive, but overweight (no differently than most women). Her sizes are 38-28-34. She has a DD cup size (I had predicted D—but she is actually a small DD). She does not particularly like her areoles because they are significantly smaller than most women with huge breasts. Her nipples are tiny as well, something else she does not particularly like. Although she keeps a tan, her areoles and nipples are several shades darker than her very tanned skin, making it seem to her as though she isn't tanned enough. This was yet another thing she did not like about her areoles and nipples.

But she is very proud of her ass, believing it to be very sexy, and although she likes her legs she feels they need more toning. Although I can read minds, I cannot see through clothing. So far I had not been able to make my own judgment about her—that would come soon enough.

Although she was expecting Matt, Darla was immediately caught off guard when she saw Martha with him. She had met Martha on several occasions but didn't really know her.

"Hi," Darla immediately said cheerfully. Although nervous she had no idea Matt was her "rapist" from the night before, since I had removed that memory. Her nervousness came from the fact that she was suppose to pretty much beg, if necessary, him to fuck her. That nervousness went into overdrive when she saw Martha with him.

"Hi Darla," Matt replied smiling normally, "I believe you've met my wife."

"Yes," Darla replied smiling, "Nice to see you Martha."

Martha smiled back, but her eyes wondered from Darla's head to toe, making sure Darla noticed. Darla did and was immediately uncomfortable. Martha replied after a moment, "Good to see you too."

Darla had put full makeup on, as though she were preparing to go out on the town. Although she protested, she finally gave into wearing one of Deanna's scoop tops. Deanna was much smaller than her mother. Needless to say, the shirt seemed to be glued to Darla, showing off a large amount of cleavage even though I had allowed her to wear a three-quarter length white button down shirt over the top. But I made her leave it completely unbuttoned. With one of Deanna's push-up bras on, this combination only created more cleavage. To top it off, I had her wear a pair of Renee's jeans, which were about three sizes too small. But she did manage to get it buttoned. It would be a big understatement to say the jeans were tight across her ass, thighs, and crotch. I also had her wear her contacts, although she didn't like too. She preferred her school teacher eye glasses.

The door wasn't shut good before Martha asked, immediately defensive, "What exactly were you planning on 'talking' to my husband about? Your three sizes too tight clothes or your daughter's bra that you're wearing?"

Although phrased as a question, it was a badly veiled accusation and her voice was ice cold.

This caught Darla completely off guard. Her first reaction was a look of "she knows" sweeping across her face. This look changed to momentary fear and then she attempted to recover by saying as though she were slightly offended (although only slight) by Martha's comment, "I beg your pardon."

Martha said nothing more as she followed her husband into the living room. Again, I had made myself disappear from everyone's view (I guess that's the same as being invisible, but then again it isn't. I simply block the signal from their eyes to their brain which tells them I'm there). I also had Darla "forget" about me. In her mind, she was completely alone and she was increasingly fearful of Martha.

Once in the living room, Matt turned to Darla, looked her up and down briefly, "What is it you want?"

"I..." she hesitated, looking at Martha briefly before looking back at Matt to say, "I needed to speak to you in private."

"Whatever you need to say to me can be said in front of my wife," he immediately declared.

I put a suggestion into Martha's mind as to why Darla would want to see her husband, alone, and dressed the way she was. I then had her act on her "premonition."

Martha walked up behind Darla, and with her mouth only inches from Darla's ear, suggested softly, "You weren't planning on seducing my husband were you?"

Darla, though already tense, froze at the "suggestion." It was all the answer Martha needed before reaching both hands around her, cupping both of Darla's breasts over her clothing, squeezing them, and saying, "But I showed up."

Darla was too stunned to move, but found her voice, replying softly, "No. That's not..."

"Stop!" Martha cut her off firmly, still squeezing her breasts. Darla did nothing to stop her, "You don't want to lie to me—not now, not ever. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Darla replied as she nodded.

"Yes, what?" Martha immediately asked.

Without hesitation, but totally humiliated, Darla said, "Yes ma'am."

"Good, now we are getting somewhere," Martha replied smugly, "Now tell me, is this tight little tank top yours?"

Martha asked continuing to squeeze Darla's tits through the shirt in question. Matt simply sat on the couch and watched.

"No ma'am," Darla replied totally ashamed.

"What about the jeans?" Martha continued.

"No ma'am," Darla again replied, only this time she was looking at the floor and her voice was barely audible.

Martha removed her hands and stepped around to the side of Darla, looked her from head to toe and said, "Take off everything that isn't yours. As you do, you'll tell us who owns the piece of clothing and we can, and will, ask any question about the clothing, or that person, we want too. By wearing their clothes to try to seduce my husband, you have inadvertently involved them in this little problem."

"No, please, they aren't even here. Please, leave them..." Darla began to plead.

But Martha slapped her hard across the right cheek and said through gritted teeth, "I don't believe I told you to speak. Now do what I said or I'm going to whip your ass!"

Darla's eyes widened momentarily at the threat. I instantly allowed Martha to "pick up on it." She immediately asked, "What? Do you like the idea of being spanked?"

Martha lightly swatted Darla's butt with her left hand. Darla flinched, more from the suddenness than anything.

"Like that?" Martha taunted. She swatted her again before saying, "That butt needs a little toning. It's too soft," she commented squeezing her right cheek, "You'll work on that. Now undress."

With a sigh, and shaking slightly, Darla took the white button down shirt off first and said, "This shirt is actually mine."

"Drop it on the floor," Martha ordered her, "You'll hold the garment until we've finished asking questions and then you will drop them all in a pile ... continue."

Martha sat in the recliner next to the couch as she and Matt watched as Darla struggled to peel the tight tank top off. She finally got it over her head, baring the tiny, blue push-up bra underneath. Her areoles were peaking over the tops of both cups.

"This shirt," Darla said after getting it completely off, holding it in her right hand, "Is Deanna's."

"Since she's 'gone, ' as you said, does she know you're borrowing her shirt?" Martha asked in an accusatory tone.

"No," Darla replied, "But she wouldn't mind."

"Do you regularly borrow your daughter's clothes?" Martha shot back quickly.

"No," Darla again replied.

"Why did you this time? Please remind me?" Martha asked trying to shame her.

"I ... I..." Darla stammered, effectively disgraced and very ashamed, replying, "I was planning to seduce your husband."

"You can continue," Martha finally said after a few moments of silence to let Darla's words hang in the air.

Hands shaking even more, Darla elected to reach back and unclasp the bra, reaching to each shoulder to guide the straps down, briefly keeping the cups up before allowing them to fall completely off. She was now completely naked from the waist up.

"Tell us," Martha asked, "Whose bra?"

"Deanna's," Darla replied more ashamed by the second.

Martha struck hard, "What is it about Deanna? Do you really think you can squeeze into her clothes or are you infatuated with her somehow? You don't want to fuck her do you?"

"Of course not!" Darla quickly replied, momentarily repulsed by the idea. I immediately intervened, softening her reaction to the suggestion, implanting the idea that fucking her daughters was indeed something to think about. But I simply suggested it in a passing manner. Darla continued, although less convincingly, "I have never thought about any such thing. I ... her clothes just ... they do the job."

"What is that, a B cup?" Martha asked guessing, "Do you know her measurements?"

"It is a B cup," Darla replied looking at the tag, "But I'm not sure about her measurements."

"Obviously she's much thinner than you," Martha pointed out, "The bra has left deep indentions in your skin—it almost looks like you still have it on. What are your measurements?"

Darla paused, an embarrassed look crept into her face before she replied, "40-34-38."

"40 what?" Martha asked and then added, "40C?"

"Yes ma'am," Darla replied.

"You have very proportionate areoles and your nipples are perfect. They are almost the color of your skin. Does Deanna take after you in those areas?" Martha continued her question barrage.

"Have you ever seen Deanna naked?" Matt chimed in before Darla could answer Martha's question.

This question stopped Darla cold. She thought about her answer for a moment, beginning and stopping several times—as though weighing her answer--before replying, "Yes, but..."

"How long ago?" Martha immediately asked.

Again Darla seemed to grasp for the answer before replying, "Before she left on her trip. But it was only briefly and it was accidentally."

"What did you see?" Martha continued.

"Not much," Darla replied, "I walked in the bathroom on her. She was facing me. I saw her front."

"What on the front?" Matt wanted to know, "Does she shave?"

Darla looked at him as though he were asking her to violate some kind of secret trust between a mother and daughter. She seemed to think about the answer before saying, "I don't remember."

"That's a lie," Martha shot back angrily, "I've already warned you about lying."