Hacker’s Punishment Continued
My original intention to finish Mr. Paulson’s story was to create six more tasks, each more embarrassing and humiliating than the last, and be done with it. The story seems to have gotten away from me. All these new characters popped up and then they got involved in relationships. I hope that Mr. Paulson and the fans of his original story aren’t too disappointed with these new developments. I feel that I’ve hi-jacked his story and I’m taking it in a new unintended direction. So to Mr Paulson and his fans: I apologize.
Chapter 7 Melanie’s Eleventh Post to Leviticus
It was a wild night. After I wrote my post last night I jumped back in bed and wore poor Jack out. I hadn’t realized that running around naked and displaying myself as I had been doing was raising my libido as well as my embarrassment and humiliation. Evidently things were going on in my brain that I wasn’t aware of. When Jack and I hit the sheets I let it all out.
I got up this morning and got ready for work. I went to kiss Jack good-bye and he was awake. I was leaning over him with my lips on his and my hand on his tummy. He put is hand over mine and slid it down to his erect penis. Evidently Jack had something left.
“Are you going to leave me like this?” he asked.
I didn’t. And I know you perverts want to know so the answer is yes. I swallowed.
When I arrived at work and was comfortably and nakedly sitting behind my desk I checked my computer for e-mails. First Katy.
Called but no answer. Left a message. What do you have an answering machine for if you ignore it? What’s going on? Talk to me. Luv ya. Katy
I typed a quick response telling her that there was a lot going on and that I’d call when I got a chance. Then Jen’s e-mail.
Hey, Mel. I’m thinking about you all the time. About what you must be going through. What’s it like being naked around people with their clothes on? I mean it must be embarrassing and everything, but do you get, you know, aroused? Maybe that’s a dumb question. I’m sorry. Call me. Write me. Can I stop by tomorrow? Take care of yourself. Love, Jen
I told Jen to stop by and that I was researching that arousal question. That should get her thinking. And, finally, Levi’s e-mail. I opened it with trepidation.
It appears that your friend Jack spent the night. I think it’s wonderful that you’ve renewed your relationship with him. I also hope that he understands and appreciates your new lifestyle. I know I have.
It’s absolutely creepy - scary - how this guy knows so much about me. I’m being stalked by a pervert. That’s you, Levi, you creep.
I have good news for you, Melanie. I have decided on your ninth task. That means that you will have only three left. And the news just gets even better. For this task you get to wear clothes. Your affectionately named “whore clothes”.
Fuck! Those rags were worse than going naked.
This evening I would like you to go to the Triple X Emporium out at Bob’s Truck Stop. In addition to your whore clothes you may take your change purse with fifty dollars and your cell phone. That’s all. Once inside you’ll spend five minutes perusing the literature. Use your cell phone to time yourself. Select a magazine that you find particularly interesting for that will be part of your purchase. Next spend five minutes looking over the other wares in the store. Lastly there’s a display case along the wall next to the cash register that contains some of the more exotic toys. You are to select and purchase a personal massager. To make sure you buy the right one you must spend at least five minutes at the display case and ask the clerk several questions concerning the attributes of the individual items.
You may then leave and you will have completed your ninth task. There will only be three left and that must be a wonderful feeling.
I hated those clothes. Being out in public in those rags was worse than being naked.
The rest of my day went badly. As far as Robert and Zeke and I were concerned it was the same as the previous days. I was naked and I was continuously being ogled by the two men. But all I could think about was my evening task. Dressing up like a half naked whore and walking into a porn store and buying a couple of porn items. Maybe the massager wasn’t necessarily a porn item. I know Jen had one because she told me about it. She even offered to lend it to me but I was hot and heavy with Jack at the time and thought what the hell do I need and electric masturbator for. But when you buy a vibrator in a porn store it’s a porn thing. I had to spend fifteen minutes there. What if there were other customers? What would they think with my shorts unzipping every time I moved and my tits hanging out and my butt cheeks sticking out below my so-called shorts. They’d think I was a whore. And then I had to ask a clerk about the sex stuff. Oh god, it was going to be the most horrible and humiliating thing ever. This was no longer about being naked. This was about how thoroughly Melanie can be humiliated. I was going to die. I couldn’t do it. Levi, you are a miserable excuse for a human being. I hate you! HATE, HATE, HATE!
Maybe this was the time to negotiate as Jen suggested. I replied.
I’m not doing this. This is over the top. You can’t make me. If I get fired, you get fired (if you even have a job.) If I pay a fine, you pay a fine. If I go to jail, you go to jail. I’m not doing it, Final!
After about ten minutes Levi replied.
I’m so sorry you find my little task so difficult. For a person who’s willing to hack a web site (breaking and entering) and maliciously remove the work of hard working authors you seem to be displaying an inordinate amount of ethics.
As for your negotiating position, I don’t think you’ll find it too secure. You’re correct in assuming that I’m vulnerable, but only if I can be identified. I can’t. Unlike you I know what I’m doing on the internet and any trace of where these e-mails are coming from has been obliterated. The fact that you’re a victim of my blackmail does not remove your culpability. You are still guilty and for that you must pay the penalty dictated either by me or by our esteemed justice system.
After due consideration I think you’ll find that a little bit of embarrassment is preferable to a ruined reputation and career not to mention the legal penalties.
In spite of what you think, Melanie, I am looking out for you. I can guarantee that you are not going to be molested and I’m even in a position to help if you are arrested.
Think about it, Melanie. If you decide to proceed with your task I wish you to have a wonderful time.
Who the hell are you, Levi? Guarantee? Position to help? And how the hell should I know if you can be found or not. So much for negotiating. I’d dress (relative term) like a whore and go to the porn store and buy a porn magazine and a vibrator and fuck you and your guarantees and your position and the horse you came in on.
So that’s how my day went. Whenever I got involved in something to take my mind off tonight’s task Robert or Zeke would waltz in and while they checked out my feminine charms I’d start thinking about the task. And the humiliation.
At least my two voyeurs began leaving me alone during my AM and PM breaks and I got some work done then. You think maybe they had seen enough? Nah. They probably needed the time to jack off in the bathroom.
Finally it was time to go home. I put on my too short skirt, my peek-a-boo blouse and my shoes. After driving for about ten minutes I took off my too short skirt, my peek-a-boo blouse and my shoes. The next clothes I’d put on would be my whore clothes.
I was too wound up to eat dinner so I had a shot of vodka. I drank it neat. Neat meant no water, no ice and in my case, no glass. Time to get it over with. I raised the garage door and, in all my naked splendor, surveyed the street. No one there. I walked to the outside corner of the garage where my rags were piled and threw them in the car. Levi left no allowance for shoes so I assumed my shopping trip would be barefoot. Evidently the Triple X Emporium didn’t have a dress code. After driving to a place off my street I began putting the rags on. I cried as I tried to pull the zipper up over my pubic hair. Looking down at myself, from my vantage point, my entire breasts were visible under the t-shirt.
When I arrived at the porn shop my heart sank. There were four cars in the lot. I guessed one was for the clerk and three for the customers. I parked away from the entrance hoping that the customers would leave and then I could enter. Instead another car arrived. The guy who got out was a hundred pounds overweight, wore a dirty t-shirt, and hadn’t shaved in a week. My heart sank further. It occurred to me that this was probably the porn shop’s after-work busy time. It was only going to get worse. I pulled in to a space next to fatso’s car. With my sweaty hands I opened the car door. When I stepped out of the car the parking lot gravel crunched under my bare feet causing a pain that I hardly noticed.
As if in a trance I walked to the door and pushed it open. In one sweaty hand I was clutching my change purse and in the other I had my cell phone. Down the side on my right and across the back wall were racks containing magazines, books and DVD’s. Down the center was a double sided display rack that contained tons of “stuff.” Blister packs and assorted gewgaws hanging from hooks on the racks. On the left wall was a glass-topped display case, a cash register, and a seedy looking bald guy. Three guys at the magazines and books turned their heads and stared. Fatso was looking at the DVD’s. He turned his head and stared. A fourth customer was inspecting the “stuff” and he turned his head and stared. The clerk stared.
My heart was pounding. I wanted to turn and run. I noted the time on my cell phone and walked to the side of the center rack opposite the guy on the other side. I wanted to keep a barrier between us. As I walked my zipper started slipping down. With the hand that held my change purse I gripped the material below the zipper and with my cell phone hand I grabbed the zipper. Sucking in my tummy, I tugged, grimacing as the usual pubic hairs came up with the zipper. One of the customers laughed. The degree of humiliation that I felt was unbearable. I fought back my tears as I stared dumbly at the items in front of me.
Cock rings, Anus plugs. Penis ties. I took a few steps further along the rack. Whips. Crops. Paddles. Further still. Pink dildos. Flesh colored dildos. Black dildos. It went on and on. My head swam.
I looked at may phone. Two minutes had passed. Thirteen to go.
“See anything you want, honey?”
I jumped a foot. One of the guys at the magazine rack had slipped up beside me. When I turned to look at him my left tit exposed itself. When I reached for my t-shirt to cover it I dropped my change purse.
“Shit.” I knew that if I bent to pick it up both tits would fall out, my zipper would slide down and so would my shorts. But he saved me. The guy picked it up for me and handed it to me with a leer on his face.
“Thanks,” I said and turning my back to him I sidled down the display rack.
“Nice ass,” I heard.
I think that it was obvious that I didn’t want to be doing this. I was red and sweating and my mouth was closed in a tight grimace. Obvious to some people, maybe, but not to the asshole behind me.
Fatso left his spot at the DVD’s and stood next to me while giving my tormentor a hard look. I glanced sideways at him and he smiled. One front tooth was missing. I checked my cell phone. Five and a half minutes. I wasted half a minute while the asshole checked out my butt cheeks hanging below my too-short shorts. I moved to the magazines and stared at them without seeing a thing. I wanted to thank fatso but that would look way too encouraging.
I glanced down at myself. For a change both of my nipples were modestly ensconced under my t-shirt. Glancing further down I discovered that several pubes had escaped and were insolently displaying their black curly selves above my zipper. Tough. I wasn’t moving. Moving meant that something else was going to come out.
Before my eyes was a jumble of strange magazine titles. “Three Chicks and a Donkey”. “I Deep Throated the Regiment”. “Cum Shots Galore.” They went on. If I wasn’t so unbelievably scared and humiliated I would have laughed. Two of the customers were on my right and staring. One was behind me breathing audibly and on my left was fatso, my knight in shining armor. He wasn’t above stealing a glance at my prominently displayed baubles but somehow I felt safe with him.
I looked at my phone. Three and a half minutes to go. Three and a half of the longest minutes in my life. For three and half minutes no one moved. For three and a half minutes five guys stared at my semi-naked body and I stared at dozens of porn magazines, each hermetically sealed in its own plastic wrapper When the three and a half minutes passed I grabbed a magazine and with one hand holding my change purse and my zipper and my other hand holding my cell phone and magazine and ever gaping t-shirt I sauntered over to the display case. I placed the magazine on the counter and looked at some very unusual items. The seedy looking clerk moved directly across from me.
“This isn’t a fucking whore house, lady,” he said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I, uh, I lost a bet. I gotta buy a vibrator. I, uh, is that one any good?” I said pointing at a pink dildo shaped like a penis with the balls attached and a cord running out of it. It was huge.
“Yeah. That’s a good one,” he said. “$39.95. You want it?”
“No. I thinks it’s too big’” I said.
All five customers laughed out loud, even fatso, as I turned fifty shades of red. Several questions Levi said.. Several means three, two to go.
“How about that one,” I asked pointing at a little round thing with wires attached.
“Yeah, that should fit,” he said, eliciting more laughter. “$29.95.”
“That one?” I asked, pointing at a vibrator I thought that I recognized from some place. “How’s that one?”
Three questions. By the time I paid for the damn thing my five minutes would be up and I could get the hell out of there.
“That’s a magic wand. It’s $39.95 You want it or not?”
“Magic wand. Yeah. I’ll take that one please. And this,” I said, sliding the magazine, ‘Creepy Climaxes’ across the counter.
“You want it gift wrapped?” he smirked. More laughter.
I gave the creep some money and he gave me a paper bag containing my well considered purchases and some change. By now my zipper was well on its way to full disclosure and my shorts were sliding down. Fixing that problem and carrying all of my stuff left me with no way to keep my boobs properly covered. Four customers and a creepy sales clerk got a fine view of my breasts and nipples as I left the store in humiliation. I jumped in my car and sprayed gravel in reverse and a lot more in drive as I hurried out of the parking lot. In my rear view mirror I saw five men standing in the store entrance watching my retreat.
By the time I got to my strip spot I was shaking and sobbing. I tore off my whore rags. They didn’t even deserve to be called clothes. I’d rather be naked than to wear them. When I got home I threw them to their usual place by the garage door. Once inside I threw my stuff on the kitchen table and headed for the shower where I spent the next twenty minutes trying to wash the porn shop off my body.
By the time I got out of the shower my fan club was already waiting patiently on my lawn. I was starving and had enough time to wolf down a sandwich before the big show when the doorbell rang. It was Jack. I was expecting him to come over later in the evening but evidently he wanted to see the show also. Actually, I was glad he showed. I was still suffering from the porn store trauma and his presence helped. We kissed, he sat and I performed.
Jack and the two adolescents got to see my boobs bounce, my legs spread and my cute little asshole blink. At least I think it’s cute. What else could it be? Two cars slowed, one briefly and one for the duration. I couldn’t see the driver very well but I think it was an old guy. After the kids and the old fart left Jack and I headed for the bedroom. As we cuddled I told him about my day. I cried and Jack consoled and caressed. As he caressed I caressed back. We had a wonderful time. It was an excellent antidote for porn store trauma.
I’m writing this now because I have to. Then it’s back to bed for some more therapy.
End of part 5
Copyright© 2015 by MOF. All rights reserved. If you have any comments I’d enjoy hearing them. After my last post I wasn’t sure I’d continue but all it took was one positive email. Thanks. Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org Note the '.fm', not '.com'.