We're running with the shadows of the night
So baby, take my hand, it'll be all right.
Surrender all your dreams to me tonight
They'll come true in the end.
Lyrics from "Shadows of the Night", written by D.L. Byron
Leo entered the front door, followed by a nervous Daphne. This is the excited anticipation, butterflies-in-the-stomach part of the roller-coaster ride when you are committed, and are slowly moving up, up, up to the terrifying plunge that is just beyond the horizon, she thought.
The well-lit foyer was about 5 yards square and there were three metallic cases laying on the reception desk. In front of each was a jewelry chain with a rectangular metal pendant. Leo selected a case, walked across the reception area, and opened another door. He invited her into his office and set the case on his desk.
Leo offered her a seat, and asked to see her wallet. She nervously complied.
He pulled out all the cards; the State and College IDs were for a Daphne Williams who recently turned nineteen years-old. The photos matched the girl seated across from him and the name embossed on the ATM card confirmed the girl's identity. There was nothing to indicate that "Daphne Williams" was an alternate identification.
He fished a roll of 1/8" black masking tape from his desk and soon her middle and last names, her street address, and the number of the State ID were all obscured. It was still plainly a State ID with a date of birth associated to a face and a first name.
He photocopied the redacted ID onto a 3"x5" index card, then produced an ink pad and asked her to impress her thumb print on the back.
Daphne looked at the card before returning it to Leo. If the rest of Leo's card collection was anything like this one, someone could steal the whole set and still not know who his models are. The cops could probably figure it out – her thumbprint was on the card, after all – but she wasn't worried about them publicizing her secrets. He had his proof that none of his models were underage, and they had their anonymity. She felt reassured as she handed the card back to Leo; his commitment to her security was genuine.
He opened a drawer and produced a cell-phone. It had only three buttons; Daphne recognized it as the type you give children so they can contact their parents in an emergency. "What's that for?" Daphne asked.
Leo examined the phone, nodded, then wrote "11" on the 3x5 card with Daphne's ID and fingerprint. "It's for you" he said as he handed it to her.
"Oh, no!" she protested. She rifled through her purse and showed off her smart phone. "I've already got a phone!"
He smiled. "I'm sure you do, and that's why you need this one." He picked up his desk-phone's handset and dialed 11. The little phone beeped. He looked at Daphne. "I think that call is for you."
She picked it up, activated the device, and, rolling her eyes, held it to her face. "Hi, Leo. What's up?"
"What's up is that we're talking by telephone and there is no record anywhere in the universe of either of us calling the other." He hung up. "If I call your private phone, my carrier will keep a record of the call and there will be duplicate records kept by yours. And, if this card should ever fall in the wrong hands, your number will be on it. If you're OK with that level of risk, OK. Or, you can use my phone. The button on the left calls me, the one on the right calls 911, and you can set the button in the middle yourself. OK?"
Daphne nodded and accepted the phone. "What about my fingerprint?"
"What about it?"
"It's on that card too, 'if it ever fell in the wrong hands'..."
"Miss," Leo started, "if 'the wrong hands' had the ability to get onto those sorts of databases, they wouldn't need your fingerprints – they'd just do facial recognition and find you anyway."
He picked up the pendant and pressed it to rectangular depressions on the case. One by one the latches popped open. Leo dumped the case's contents on the desk. "It's time. Take off all your clothes, shoes, socks, jewelry... everything. If you weren't wearing it when you were born, put it in here. Then put these on," he said, pointing to the case's former contents.
Daphne took off her shoes, socks, shirt and pants. Wearing only her brassiere and panties and already feeling quite vulnerable, she saw the pile of the case's former contents and trembled in a mix of fear, excitement, dread, and anticipation.
"You are wondering what those are for?" Leo interjected when his model looked at the wrist and ankle straps, and the collar.
Wrong, thought Daphne, I know exactly what they're for...
"I told you I know the scariest, most exciting fantasy that is buried deep in your soul. I know that you fantasize about being naked in front of strangers – but I also know that the reason it's so exciting is because you can't move – you have no choice but to accept whatever happens. I also told you once that the only way to deal with a fantasy is to experience it – do you want to know why?"
She was still looking at the pile of restraints. She nodded her head almost imperceptibly.
"Fantasies go away when you experience them because they're not fantasies anymore – you know how the story ends. And you can't really experience your fantasy unless you completely surrender yourself to it, let it happen."
Daphne was breathing in short breaths through her dry mouth as she slowly reached over and, shaking, she wrapped the first strap around her wrist. It snapped closed with a secure sounding 'Click!' She tested the restraint and it was secure. This seemed scarier than her fantasy. Then she snapped the other on. Then the ankle straps. Finally the collar.
Leo massaged his quaking model's shoulders. "It's going to be OK. You'll see."
Leo held up something that looked like a simple rectangular bracelet pendant. "This is a special key. It opens everything." He held it against one of her wrist restraints and it popped open. Leo handed it to her. "Close that back up and try it yourself." She did and the mechanism popped open again.
"OK," said Leo, "If you want to go through with this you have to finish stripping."
She reached behind her back and released three hooks, releasing her breasts.
Her bra fell to her wrists as she bent forward to slide her panties past her thighs. She stepped out of her bottoms, then dropped her last covering into the case. She was about to latch the case when Leo stopped her and pointed out her earrings and all her other jewelry; these went into the case as well. Apart from Leo's leather, she was as naked as she when was born.
Leo reached into his desk and produced an envelope. "Here's your money," he said, handing it to her. "If you want to earn this money there is a special panel inside the case that you can open with your key. If you want to count it, now's the time to make sure it's what we agreed. Then lock the money inside the case, latch it, and finally swallow the key. Anytime until the moment you swallow the key you can put your clothes back on and leave here as if nothing ever happened."
Daphne opened the envelope and counted $1500. "You said $2000!" she protested.
"No, I said $30 per hour for 50 hours – that's $1500 – plus bonuses, up to $2000" explained Leo.
She replayed the conversation in the cafe in her mind. He was right and she admitted it. Anyway, $1500 was disappointing, but it was still an enormous sum to her. Almost as much as all of her regular monthly expenses – rent, utilities, and food – combined. Just for being naked for two days... Daphne decided to keep the money.
Leo held up a leather hood. "Here's the first possible bonus: I pay an extra $6 per hour – that's $300 – to models who don't wear this." Already intensely ashamed, she snatched it from his hand and put it over her head. Leo laced it securely in place in back. The few tufts of Daphne's exposed hair were easily tucked back under the leather. Daphne could see – barely – through two sets of ten ¼" diameter holes arranged in a flattened hexagon, her nose poked out of a triangular opening and a larger oval cut out exposed her mouth.
She latched the case closed. Daphne was absolutely naked – except for the wrist and ankle restraints, and the dog collar – and wearing these items made her feel even more vulnerable, like someone owned her...
"One last thing," Leo said, "Show me your tongue."
She complied and he put something in her mouth.
Daphne felt the rectangular pendant on her tongue and played with it.
"Swallow that and you irrevocably commit yourself to modeling for the next fifty hours."
This was her last chance.
She could spit it out onto the desk and free herself and go home.
Or she could commit to two days of being a naked sex object.
She prayed that she could really trust this man...
She swallowed the pendant.
Leo pulled two caribiners and a short chain from the heap and clipped Daphne's wrists and one end of the chain together behind her back, then the other end of the chain to her collar; her hands were about halfway up her back and only barely able to move. He clipped a leash to the collar and pulled her to one side of the office, where he hung the loop to a hook protruding from the wall just above her head, and left. She felt like a dog. She thought about the pendant she'd swallowed. It would be days before it came back out, and she wasn't looking forward to what she imagined she would have to do to retrieve it. Otherwise, she was going to be naked until then unless someone intervened. She took a deep breath and resigned herself to her fate. She really was helpless. And scared. And she thought about how, in a little while, she would be fondled by strangers and would cum in public for them and there was nothing that she could do about it. A familiar tingle stirred in her crotch.
Could it be that I actually enjoy this sort of danger?