The rescue of Penelope begins

You climb into your vintage Aston Martin. You like old cars, because they're more attractive to you than any of the new junk yard rejects auto manufacturers are coming out with these days. Your particular model dates back to the days of Sean Connery whose fame comes from being the first James Bond in cinema features. George has a fondness for those old movies, and you fell in love with the car at first sight. The one you own is allegedly one that was used in a couple of those movies. George just had to get it for you as a surprise birthday gift last year. Sex with George was the best ever that night, as you fondly recall. You wish your sex life with him could be like that night forever. Even thinking about it makes you cum as you settle into the driver's seat.

Your first stop is the bank to withdraw the needed funds for rescuing Penelope. It's not unlike you to withdraw a few thousand to go shopping or clubbing with, so no one, not even George, will suspect you. George keeps you supplied with money in your account, and he expects you to spend it, and have a good time. He's simply the best husband any girl like you could ever hope to have. It's almost as if he knows you're a trophy wife, and he wants to keep you happy in any way he can. You actually do love him in your own way. You've even toyed around with the idea of giving him another child, but George always tells you he's happy with the two he has now, and that he's getting a little bit too old to be a father again.

You take your place in line once inside the bank, and wait. It's not long before you feel someone tapping on your shoulder. You turn around, and there before you stands a strange woman you've never seen before. She's very beautiful, standing tall and statuesque, almost like a vision of Aphrodite herself. Her flowing brown tresses cascade over her shoulders to just above her ample breasts. "Rachel Cummings, I presume" she says, smiling, intently gazing at you with emerald green eyes.

"Yes?" you answer cautiously. "May I ask who you are?"

"No, you may not" she answers tersely. "Just know that I represent the people who are holding your step daughter Penelope. The game has changed." She hands you a cell phone and an envelope. "You are still to bring the money, but you are to follow the instructions that are written in this letter. There are certain tasks you must fulfill. The cell phone is directly linked to a computer where Penelope is being held. You must send proof that you have completed the tasks outlined in the letter by sending pictures or videos using the cell phone. You are not to involve the police. You do, and you will never see Penelope again. We will sell her into slavery for what she owes us. Is that understood?"

You feel suddenly terrified about this whole ordeal. "Why can't you just be satisfied with the money?"

"Because we know who your husband is, and we know who you are, Rachel Cummings. It turns out you owe us, too. You left us with some unfinished business, and you stole from us." The woman looks at your breasts. "I can see exactly where all that money went." She fondles both of your breasts, and suddenly tweaks your nipples. "We want payback, or your husband George will find out all about you, and lose a daughter in the process."

"No, please!" you find yourself pleading. "Do whatever you want with me, or to me. Just let Penelope go."

"You're very fond of her, aren't you Rachel?" Her hands are still on your breasts, gently caressing them through the fabric of your clothing. "We'll let her go after you've done as we have instructed. You'll be hearing from me again." She turns and leaves you standing there, trembling in fear and wonder.

You somehow manage to regain your composure, and muddle through the teller line. You withdraw the amount Penelope requested, plus a bit extra in case you need it. Then it's off to the car, and the tasks you've been assigned. You open the envelope and pull out the letter. The first task they have given you sets your teeth on edge. "Dear God! They want me to do WHAT!!!???"