Chapter One: Be Careful What You Wish For
Julie Jo “JJ” Johansson looked up from her personal tablet and glanced at the company computer screen in front of her. It still said, “Standby for Transcription.”
“Do you think there is any worse job than this?” she asked Marcie Dumont, the only other person in the room despite the fact that there were several dozen transcription stations.
“This isn’t that bad,” Marcie answered. “We get paid fairly well for just listening and typing. It’s not like we have to do anything really hard.”
“But we only get half our hourly rate when we are on standby,” JJ whined. “That’s just a little above minimum wage, and night shift is almost all standby. Neither of us has enough seniority to bump up into day shift. What could be worse than a girl with a high school diploma and two years at a transcription school sitting around making minimum wage?”
Marcie laughed, “How ‘bout someone with a masters in accounting and an Ivy League law degree sitting around making minimum wage?” She laughed again, then said sadly, “All that plus a year in prison.”
She shrugged her shoulders and said, “I was young and naive and right out of school, so I believed them when they said it was tricky, but legal.”
Her face lost all expression. “It wasn’t legal and I was the one who was tricked. They set it all up so it looked like it was all my idea. Then they played dumb and testified against me. Because it was my first offense, I got three years… two off for good behavior, so I’m out now.”
She waved her hand at the room around them, “But with a record, I can’t find work anywhere but a place like this.”
Looking directly at JJ she said, “It’s a job. We can work our way up from here. And besides, right now you’re being paid while you sit there watching porn on your tablet.”
JJ turned pink and started to sputter a response, but Marcie cut her off with “There’s a big window behind you. Every time you go out on a porn site, you hold the tablet so you think I can’t see, but everything you are looking at is reflected off the glass.” She smirked at JJ and added, “You seem to like to watch girls getting tied up and forced to orgasm.”
JJ turned a deeper shade of red and said, “Ever since I read that book, I can’t get it out of my mind. I keep imagining me doing all those things.”
“And it turns you on beyond belief,” Marcie said.
JJ looked slightly confused so Marcie continued, “It’s a small room, JJ. I can smell you. Besides, I see you slipping your fingers under the waistband of your skirt when you think I’m not looking. And it usually happens when you are thinking about having all those things done TO you, not BY you.”
“I… I… I…” sputtered JJ. She looked down, “OK, you’re right. I mean…” Her voice dropped very soft. “I mean that I imagine someone doing all those things to me.”
She looked up at Marcie. “How did you know I wasn’t imagining myself doing those things to you… I mean to someone else?”
“You leave your tablet logged into that BDSM Boot Camp site all the time,” Marcie said as she turned her own tablet so that JJ could see it. “I looked it up. It’s a boot camp for anyone who wants to totally experience true master-slave relationships… from either side. And I checked your browser history while you were taking a bathroom break; you keep going to the slave pages, not the Master pages.”
“It’s a fantasy,” JJ answered. Then, in a sing-song voice, she read off the banner at the top of the webpage, “A Fantasy Vacation That Will Last a Lifetime.”
“It’s a fantasy that can become a reality,” replied Marcie. Then imitating JJ’s reading, she said, “Put Some Fantasy Into Your Life.”
“Yeah,” JJ answered. Her shoulders slumped and her voice became angry– almost bitter– as she continued, “And like everything else in my life it will have to remain a fantasy forever. It costs ten thousand dollars… and even if I could somehow save up the money, I can’t afford to take three months off work. As much as I would like to do it, it will never happen.”
“Never is a long time,” Marcie chided. A high-pitched “ding” interrupted whatever else she was going to say. “But it’s time to go on the clock anyway,” she said as she set down her own personal tablet and grabbed the mouse that controlled her company workstation. “We’ll have to talk about this later.”
Both JJ and Marcie put on their headsets and prepared to transcribe the audio file that would momentarily be loading to their workstations. Fittsgivens and Brown was a very high-end consulting company that handled a wide range of very, very upscale clients plus many military contracts. Much of what they did had immense security or legal ramifications, so all meetings were recorded and transcribed. To ensure accuracy, two transcriptions were separately created and then compared to each other in a custom computer program. A final edit– certified by a much more highly-paid legal secretary– created the transcript that was shared with the clients. After the client’s approval, the original audio files were destroyed.
Both girls stared silently at their computer monitors, awaiting the audio file to load, but nothing loaded. Instead, the door to the transcription room opened and Evelyn Brown, co-owner of the firm, stepped in. Marcie recognized her immediately. Mister Fittsgivens was almost never at the office. She had only seen pictures of him. But Evelyn Brown was a hands-on manager who often stopped by, even at night.
“This will not be downloading from the internal network,” she said firmly as she strode into the room.
Evelyn paused and looked at both girls, seeming to bore into their eyes with her own. “And it will not be stored on our network… or anywhere else,” she added emphatically.
She handed each of them a flashdrive and explained. “The audio files are encoded on these drives. Your transcript will also be saved on that drive. These flashdrives are coded to your workstations. The password will appear on your screen when you insert it. Just type it into the transcription program when it asks for it.”
She then pulled a chair over to Marcie’s and JJ’s workstations and said, “And these transcriptions will be your last official acts for this company.”
Both girls’ eyes opened wide as they processed what they had just been told. “As you will soon discover,” Evelyn continued, “We are in merger talks with another company. Actually, it is a done deal, and it is more of a takeover than a merger. We are a small fish that is merging with a very large shark. The deal will not be public for another three months, but it has already occurred.”
She let out a long breath. “At that time, most of our employees will be let go. I have negotiated a severance package of six months’ salary or wages for all who are laid off. … I think those are rather generous terms.”
Evelyn Brown looked back and forth between JJ and Marcie, stopping to look each of them directly in the eyes. She blew out another long breath and said flatly, “My problem is what to do with you two for the next ninety days.”
She laughed a very dry laugh and said, “There is too much at stake to trust that you won’t let something slip, but our buyer insists that this go through our normal transcription process not only to put everything in writing, but also to establish an internal, time-stamped, electronic paper trail. I have to let you transcribe the recordings of our meetings, but I can’t risk keeping you around afterward.”
She crossed her arms in front of herself and paced back and forth behind the two girls. “I can’t let you stay, but if I let you go early, it will start rumors. I’m willing to make your severance packages a full year’s pay if that’s what it takes to keep you quiet, but that still doesn’t solve what to do with you for the next ninety days.
“Double the offer to two years,” Marcie said suddenly, “and I will tell you how to solve both problems.”
Evelyn looked up at her with a very stern face and said quietly, “If you’re playing with me, you will regret it for the rest of your short and miserable life.”
“Box M Leadership Training,” Marcie answered quickly. “It’s a ninety-day, full immersion course of training that is totally off the grid someplace in Texas. You tell everyone that you sent JJ and me there to test what it can do for two low-level employees before considering it for middle management. No one can reach us, and there will be no way to tell anyone about the merger even if we wanted to.”
“Okay,” answered Evelyn very slowly. She seemed somewhat surprised but quickly recovered. She was now looking warily back and forth between Marcie and JJ as she slowly said, “I’ll check it out. If it’s what you say, you’ll have the two years’ severance, and we’ll pay all expenses for this training.”
After a short pause, as if she were thinking about something, she continued forcefully, “Plan on leaving an hour early in the morning so you don’t run into any of the day shift… and you won’t be coming back in to work tomorrow night. I will have replacements in place while you are away at… … training.”
She pulled a credit card from her purse and said, “This is a company credit card that is linked to my special accounts. Just put the cost of the training and your personal expenses on this card.” As she handed Marcie the card, she said, “Don’t abuse this. The reports come to me daily, and I will know if anything shows up on it that shouldn’t.”
With that, she stood up and walked to the door. Before leaving, she turned and said, “There are four meetings on those drives. Be very careful that you get everything transcribed exactly. I will be back in the morning before you leave to retrieve the drives.”
After the door had closed, JJ turned to Marcie and said, “What have you gotten us into? What is this training? You can probably handle it with your college degrees, but I never really graduated from high school. I barely passed the tests for a GED, and the only thing I can do really well is type.”
Marcie just smiled and picked up her personal tablet. She tapped the screen, and it returned to the home page of BDSM Boot Camp. She pointed to some smaller type at the bottom of the screen and read aloud. “BDSM Boot Camp operates as Box M Leadership Training Services. Box M is all that will appear on your credit card statement.”
She looked up at JJ with a smile and said, “Sometimes never arrives a lot sooner than you think it will. It looks like we’re both going to BDSM Boot Camp. … But first, we’ve got four very important meetings to transcribe.”
Marcie and JJ’s shift ended at seven. Evelyn returned a little after five and inquired about the transcriptions. Everything was ready for her.
“I checked out Box M,” she said. “Some of the reviews were quite cryptic, but as you said, it is in the middle of nowhere in Texas and totally off the grid, so it’s perfect for our purposes.”
She collected the flashdrives from the two girls and handed them each an envelope. “This is a five-thousand-dollar bonus,” she said. “Use this money to disappear until you can leave for this training. Make your registration and travel arrangements from your workstation now so there is no question about the credit card, then insert this.”
She handed them each another thumbdrive and gave them a very cold smile, “The program on this drive is from one of our military clients. It will start automatically. The password to begin is ‘ERASE’– all caps. The confirmation password, when it asks for it, is ‘totaldestruction’– lowercase, one word. At that point, your workstation will effectively cease to exist.”
She silently stared each girl in the eye for a few moments. Her smile then turned even colder as she said softly, but firmly, “There is a similar program for any employee who tries to screw up this merger.” With that, she turned and left.
JJ looked at Marcie with her eyes and mouth wide open. “Was that a threat?” she asked nervously.
“No, JJ,” Marcie answered. “That was a promise.” Her voice became much more cheerful as she said, “So let’s get ourselves registered for a ninety-day boot camp at Box M Leadership Training Services and get the hell out of town.”
***
Marcie found the registration process for the BDSM Boot Camp surprisingly easy. JJ was afraid she would answer something wrong or click on the wrong box, so Marcie filled out the forms for both of them, indicating that they wanted to go through the boot camp together.
The most difficult part was the final submission of the credit card payment. A message appeared across the screen that said, “The $10,000 registration fee for Box M Leadership Training Services Special Boot Camp is NOT refundable. Do you wish to continue (Y/N)?” That was followed by three more messages that said, “Are you sure (Y/N)?”, “Are you very sure (Y/N)?”, and “Are you ABSOLUTELY sure (Y/N)?”
After the final yes/no question disappeared from the screen, a box appeared. Beneath it was a request to enter her cell number so that a verification code and identity app could be sent to her phone.
When the verification message arrived, it included a link to download a “registration app.” Once that app loaded, it instructed her to hold the phone so that it could take a selfie. The phone flashed three times and then displayed a series of numbers that it said to input into the registration screen on the computer. When she entered the verification code, the selfie her phone had taken appeared on her computer screen with the question, “Is this you (Y/N)?”
She answered “Yes,” and then repeated the process for JJ.
The next “cycle” of the Texas boot camp was to begin in a little over a week. The instructions, which they both received after their registrations were completed, said they should be in San Antonio three days before the beginning of the boot camp, so Marcie and JJ decided to spend a few days vacationing there. They would be texted specific instructions on the prescribed day.
Since they were several days early, they checked into one of the tourist hotels downtown. Over the next few days, they toured the local missions and walked the Riverwalk and so forth, but mainly they hung around the motel pool and enjoyed the warm Texas sun.
The text arrived right on schedule. In all capital letters, it said clearly, “IN THREE DAYS BE IN FRONT OF YOUR HOTEL WITH EVERYTHING YOU OWN.” Then, in normal type, it continued, “Further instructions will follow.”
Early on the appointed day, another text message arrived. “Be out front at exactly 4:00 pm. You will be picked up and transported to a local motel where you will be staying overnight before being taken to the Box M facility. ”
Chapter Two: A Taste of Things to Come
Marcie and JJ stood nervously with their suitcases just outside the front doors of the hotel. The text had not specified what type of vehicle would pick them up. They were hoping for a limo of some sort, but what pulled up was an ancient, rusting, off-white pickup truck with a faded Box M emblem painted on its side.
“Bags in the back,” the driver said curtly through his open window. Marcie and JJ waited for a moment, thinking that he would get out and handle the bags for them, but instead he said, “If I drive away, you lose your registration. Bags in the back. Sluts in the front.”
Both turned slightly red but quickly lifted their bags into the dusty back of the pickup. As soon as they had slipped into the front seat with the driver, he roared away, leaving a cloud of blue oily smoke lingering behind.
A few minutes later, they were on the other side of town. This was definitely not a tourist area. None of the signs were in English, and the houses and businesses were more than a little seedy and run down. Marcie and JJ looked at each other, each wondering what they had gotten themselves into. Their looks turned to looks of disgust– or perhaps fear– when the driver turned into what appeared to be an almost abandoned motel, which advertised on a hand-painted sign, “Rooms by the Month, Week, Day, or Hour.”
As the truck came to a stop, the driver grunted, “You’re expected. Stop at the desk. Don’t forget your bags.” JJ was still pulling her suitcase out of the back as he once again roared away in a cloud of smoke.
The office was everything Marcie and JJ dreaded it would be. A slovenly dressed, extremely obese man sat behind what appeared to be a bulletproof window with a sliding drawer built into the counter. He looked up as they entered and took the wet cigar from his mouth. “ID,” he barked out.
Marcie held her driver’s license up to the glass, but he spat into a large ashtray next to the cash register and said, “In the drawer, dumbo. I gotta scan it.”
It looked like JJ was going to say something, but Marcie put her hand across JJ’s front and said quietly, “The nice man wants to scan our driver’s licenses.” She then put her and JJ’s licenses in the drawer and slid it under the glass.
The man ran both licenses through some sort of scanner and then grunted out, “Room 106.” As he slid the licenses and an old-fashioned motel key with a huge key tag back under the glass, he added, “It’s around back.” He then went back to watching his small television.
Marcie pulled JJ toward the door and said softly, “Let’s go see what our room looks like.”
“Hopefully it’s better than this,” JJ replied.
It wasn’t.
The back side of the motel faced an alleyway that was filled with junked cars, junked appliances, and a variety of the debris of life you find in the most run-down areas of any city or town. Tall fences separated the alley from the back of some multi-story apartment buildings. They could hear faint conversations drifting down to them from the balconies that overlooked the alley.
Both girls hurried down the sidewalk, searching for their room. At one time, the entrances to the rooms had been adorned with large brass numbers attached to the center of the doors. Now only one or two numbers remained as they walked quickly down the row. A large “106″ was badly painted on the door to their room.
At least the room was locked, and the key worked. The room itself consisted of a standard double bed, a threadbare chair, several lamps mounted on the walls, and a bathroom. There was no door on the bathroom. Hinges in the doorway hinted that at one time there might have been such a door, but the layers of paint clogging the empty hinges indicated that had been a long time ago. The chipped and broken sink and tub also spoke of years of neglect.
“I don’t understand,” JJ said. She wasn’t quite crying, but there were tears in her eyes and a slight hoarseness to her voice.
“I do,” Marcie replied. Her tone wasn’t bitterness. Instead, it was the emotionless voice of one who knew enough about the realities of life to know the truth of what was happening.
“I’m a fourth-generation Navy brat,” she said flatly. “Military Boot Camp is more than just a lot of exercises and training. The idea of a boot camp is to take everything that you are away from you. They take you apart… and then they rebuild you in whatever image they want.” She gestured to the barren room. “Our BDSM Boot Camp experience has already begun.”
A phone began to ring, and both Marcie and JJ started frantically looking around the room for the source of the sound. JJ finally found the phone on the floor, pushed partially under the bed. She answered with a simple, “Hello?”
“Put this on speaker,” the voice instructed, and JJ pushed a faded button that she hoped was the speaker. The voice became louder, so evidently she had chosen correctly. “This is your first decision point,” it said. “You can leave now, if you so desire. Just say ‘I quit,’ and you will be picked up by a limo and taken back to the airport. The driver can be knocking on your door in less than five minutes. No refunds, but no other repercussions either. If you leave now, you just go home ten thousand dollars wiser about yourself.”
The person speaking paused a few moments, awaiting an answer. “OK, then,” the voice continued. It was now obvious that it was a man speaking. “I would recommend remaining in your room with the door locked and the window shades closed,” he advised. “You may have noticed that this neighborhood is not the safest, especially for a couple of young women on their own. Tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m., sharp, you are to line up with the other trainees alongside the alleyway. That is where you will be picked up for transit. Two small packages will be delivered to your door later tonight. You are to use the contents tonight… and be thorough about it.”
After a short pause, he asked, “Any questions?”
“Are there any special instructions for tomorrow morning?” Marcie asked.
“The instructions are simple,” he answered with a laugh, “be there at seven o’clock sharp. It will be obvious where you are supposed to stand, so don’t worry about that. Just don’t forget your room number.”
He laughed again. “The instructions will be with the package,” he said, “and an additional copy will be shoved under your door in the morning. The only special instruction for tomorrow is that when you go out there, you are to leave everything that you own behind in your room.”
After another short pause, he barked out, “That means everything!” Then, in a much more gentle voice, he said, “It will all be stored for you until you complete– or abandon– your training. We, understandably, have a fairly high attrition rate from this program.”
There was another pause. “Do you understand, Marcie?”
She answered, “Yes.”
“Do you understand, JJ?”
She shook her head yes.
“I can’t hear– or record– you nodding your head,” the voice chided.
“I’m sorry,” JJ sputtered. “Yes, I understand.”
“Until morning, then,” he said, and the phone went dead.
JJ set the old-fashioned phone back on the floor next to the bed. As she pushed it slightly under the bed, she suddenly said, “Hey! Wait a minute! How did they know I was nodding my head?”
“Maybe it was a good guess,” Marcie said with a grin. Then, grinning even wider, she added, “Or maybe big brother is already watching us.”
“In that case,” JJ said, trying to sound defiant as she began unbuttoning her blouse, “Maybe I should give them something to look at.” She reached into the bathroom and turned on the light. “I really need a shower,” she continued, “and there’s no door on the bathroom, so if they are watching, they will be able to see me anyway.”
She set her suitcase on the floor and dug out a sleep shirt. Then, stripping off the clothing she was wearing, she walked into the bathroom. Although the bathroom fan was extremely noisy, it had little effect on the clouds of steam that drifted out into the room as JJ took her shower.
About fifteen minutes later, she returned to the main room, still carrying her nightshirt. “Deciding to give them a real show?” asked Marcie.
“I don’t think they are really watching,” JJ answered. “And I’m still too sticky to put this on.”
She sat down on the bed and pulled her knees up to her chin. Marcie wasn’t sure which was more captivating: JJ’s glistening slit which was peeking out between her legs, or her equally wet eyes, which threatened at any moment to overflow down her face.
Marcie put a hand on JJ’s shoulder. They were now looking directly into each other’s eyes. “Having second thoughts?” she asked softly.
“Not exactly,” JJ answered, “but I’m scared… a little… … OK, more than a little.”
“Why?” asked Marcie. “Isn’t this what you have been fantasizing about?”
“Yeeeees, I guess so,” she replied. “And I’m pretty sure I can handle the bondage and other kinky stuff. But I’ve never really… done it… with another girl. What if I can’t bring myself to do it? What if I hate it?”
“Then you drop out and go home,” answered Marcie. “I’m sure there will be many more chances to do that as the three months goes by.”
“But what about Evelyn’s… Ms. Brown’s promise that she would make us cease to exist?” JJ asked in a very plaintive voice.
“I think as long as we don’t show back up at work in the next 90 days, Ms. Brown won’t give a rat’s ass where we really are,” replied Marcie. “So that takes us back to the original question of whether or not you like doing it with a woman.”
“We could try it out now,” JJ said. She was blushing furiously and staring at the bed. “Then we would both know if we liked it.”
“I already know,” Marcie said with a laugh, “but I’m willing to help you find out for yourself.”
Having said that, she leaned closer to JJ and tilted her head slightly so their lips would meet in a kiss. A moment later, she was lying on top of JJ with her hand between her thighs. As they both moved rapidly toward the emotional release of an orgasm, neither of them noticed that the fire sprinkler above them seemed to swivel slightly so that the strange-looking nozzle was pointed directly at them on the bed.”
About an hour later, both were startled by a loud “Thump” against the door. Marcie carefully opened the door and peeked outside. There were two small boxes sitting against the door. Each had a slip of paper taped to the top. On the top of one box, written in thick black marker, it said, “Marcie.” On the top of the other, it said, “JJ.”
Marcie retrieved the two packages and brought them into the room. She glanced at the paper. It was a repeat of the instructions given over the phone. Then she opened the box with her name on it. Inside was a small pair of scissors, a package of razors, a travel-sized can of shaving cream, and two full bottles of what appeared to be some special kind of hair remover. There was also a small card that said simply, “Everything below the neck.”
“What does that mean?” JJ asked.
“It means,” answered Marcie, “that you are going to have to take another shower.”