Make it out of the house, no problem.

You make it out of the house and to work without incident. You're early, but the security has already been switched off, so you aren't the first. Wanting to get the photo task out of the way before too many people show up you head straight to your office and lock the door behind you.

After your computer wakes up you drop your pants, snap a photo with the webcam, pull your pants back up, and send the photo off to the blackmailer's email address. You let out a sigh of relief and compose yourself to start your day.

It isn't very long before an instant messenger box pops up with the username "John's Fate." The words in the box say "You're a sick pervert."

Clearly, it's your blackmailer:

You: What?

John's Fate: I said to take your wife's dirty panties, not your daughter's thong.

You: How do you know this is my daughter's thong?

John's Fate: Don't ask questions, bitch. I know you're a dumb fuck, but I can't believe you'd be so dumb to not recognize that those tiny things belong to your daughter. You chose those on purpose, didn't you?

You: No! There's no way I would have worn these if I knew they were Ashley's.

John's Fate: I bet you were digging through the clothes basket, came across that thong, and just jumped at the chance to have your cock squeezed up against her dried up pussy juice.

You: You're sick.

John's Fate: Me? I'm not the one getting off in my daughter's panties. Speaking of getting off, you may not be wearing your wife's panties as directed, but I'm still destroying a document. Say thank you.

You: (sighing as you type) Thank you.

John's Fate: Tell me you're my bitch.

You: (rolling your eyes) I'm your bitch.

John's Fate: And I really don't believe you chose that thong on accident, so I'm going to give you the unique opportunity to help me determine the future direction of your .

You: (you really don't like where this seems to be going)...go on...

John's Fate: I have reason to believe your daughter has, shall we say, "intimate" photos of herself on her computer. You'll go on her computer while she's not home, find the photos if they exist, send them to me, and from there we're going to bring your daughter into this little game of fate we're playing. She'll never even need to know that you're the one helping with her . Tell me, pervert, do you want to see your daughter's photos and do you want to her?

Evidence Remaining
13 Documents
5 Photos