Accept?

Your stomach churns as you weigh your options, which, admittedly, seem to be few. The faint flicker of relief comes from this anonymous person at least giving you the option of working off the in some way. They could just demand all the money or worse, turn the information over to the authorities. You know everything you’ve stolen would definitely land you in jail.

And, of course, fucking Tanya. You’ve been meeting her for six years, but it was only in the last year that you started fucking. The first time was after a few drinks and she admitted being unfulfilled in her society life and wanting someone to treat her like a dirty slut. The voice in the back of your head said: “no, stay boring.”

You lost the ability to resist her temptation when she slipped her panties off in the bar, shoved them down the front of your pants, and whispered “John, I can’t go home without these. Only give them back after you think I’ve earned them.”

Back against the wall, you take a deep breath and type.

“Why don’t we skip all of the bullshit about tasks? Instead of 50 percent, I’ll give you 60 percent if you meet with me tomorrow and help me make all of this go away. That’s nearly $4 million, my friend! We meet where I meet Tanya. I hand you a suitcase with the cash and you hand me an envelope with all of the evidence. We’re done and we don’t waste each other’s time.

"In the event that you don’t accept this generous offer, yes, I’ll play your fucking game, but do consider what I think is a better offer.”

-SEND-

The workday ends. No response. You check your home computer multiple times before going to bed. No response. You try to sleep, but anxiety has your mind racing. You keep reaching over to your bedstand and checking your phone. By the time you finally do fall asleep at 3 a.m. there’s still no response.

The alarm on your phone wakes you at 6:30 a.m. as it does every workday. The new email message blinks. You pick it up and there in between all of the newsletters you subscribe to is an email from the anonymous emailer. You look over at your wife who smiles at you as you lean in and kiss her, “Morning sweetie. I slept terribly last night, mind making some coffee while I lay her a little while longer?”

“You did seem restless last night, sure I’ll make the coffee,” she says while stumbling out of the bed.

Once she’s out of the room you open the email.

“Don’t be confused, John, we aren’t friends. And as for your “generous offer” I think you know as well as I do the only person making generous offers here is me. I could have asked for all of your money, John, but I didn’t. All I wanted was 50 percent and for you to BE. MY. BITCH. You’ll never know how much I suffered due to your actions, John. All you need to know is you owe me more than cash and I plan to take what I’m owed. Your options are to play my game all the way through or face the consequences. Seeing as you opted to play the game, for now, let’s begin with a rather simple task.

"I know your routine is to drink a few cups of coffee each day. You either start with a cup at home, grab one on the way to work, or drink the office coffee. You like your coffee black, but today you’re going to drink it with...cream. At some point this morning you’ll jerk off with a coffee mug in your free hand. When you cum you’ll shoot it into the mug. You’ll drink the coffee like you normally do throughout the morning and finish it. Don’t think you can lie to me, either. I’ll know."

Evidence Remaining
15 Documents
5 Photos