Blackmailed Exhibitionist Pt. 04

An adventurous young woman's fantasy is shattered

24-year-old Tracy Anders had fantasized about exhibitionist adventures but lacked the courage to do them on her own, so she recruited her best friend to compile blackmail evidence that would force her to live out her dream. Now her friend has revealed her deranged ambitions, and the missions will grow harder. The characters are over 18 years old.

Chapter Four

Dancing on the Edge

To say I was distraught after Donna left is an understatement. My best friend had become psychotic. Pushed over the edge by old desires and the adrenaline rush of our adventures. I was her tool. Her bitch. And I had no idea what to do about it. Call the police? Call a lawyer, which I didn't have the money for? And tell them what? The evidence Donna had compiled seemed so compelling that even I wondered how much was real. I got no sleep for several days, and my job performance at the real estate office was suffering. Focusing on contract approvals had gotten difficult. What I didn't realize was how much worse it was going to get.

I appeared at Donna's house a few minutes before six o'clock as instructed. It was a tidy 1970s three-bedroom suburban residence that had belonged to her parents. I had visited their home a hundred times over the years, but never in dread. Donna met me in the driveway.

"We will be doing things a little differently from now on," she said, firm but not angry. "Come into the back."

I followed her down the driveway, through the old wooden gate, and entered the service porch at the side of the house. I saw the washer and dryer, freezer, and cleaning supplies. The next door led to the kitchen. There was a steel box the size of a tool chest with "Tracy" written on it in chalk.

"When you come here, you will not enter through the front door," she explained. "When you arrive, take off your clothes, and put them in the box. You will then lock the box using the padlock. I will keep the key until I'm ready to give it to you. Once you are naked, you will enter the house and come to the living room, even if someone else is already here. You will kneel and await directions."

"That sounds like something a slave would do," I objected. She had already made me shave off my pubic hair as a sign of her power. Now she was taking it further.

"For now, you are my slave. Until you learn to obey. I'm planning new adventures for us. They can't be ruined by your stubbornness."

"Are you going to rape me, too?" I asked.

"I may touch something from time to time, to prove your subservience, but there will be no sex. Not until you beg me. I hope that day is soon."

"I'll go off a bridge first," I denied.

"That must be negotiated, but in the meantime, I have dinner waiting for us. Also, a very fine claret and a folder for us to review. Please remove your clothes so we can go in the house."

This was really the moment. She had seen me take off my clothes on challenges, and torn Lenny's sweatshirt from me in my apartment, but I had never gone to her house and stripped naked on her orders. I had no doubt Donna had been fantasizing about this for years, masturbating and hoping, and then she realized her dream could come true with blackmail.

And she was right. I saw no way out. What should I do? Fighting her was a losing game. We both knew it. What would my protesting and recrimination mean? Nothing. I had read that when dealing with a crazy person, there is no point in reasoning with them. I needed to suck it up, play her game, and hope she would come back to earth someday.

"Yes, mistress," I responded. I disrobed quickly, folding my clothes neatly in the steel box, and pushed down the latch, padlocking it. Then I turned to face her, arms down at my sides, head bent, awaiting further orders. She may not have believed in my sincerity, but over time, she would. Her ego would not allow anything different.

"When in my house, you will wear this," Donna said, buckling a black leather collar around my throat.

"Isn't this a wonderful joke, mistress?" I said lightheartedly.

"What is that, slave?" she asked.

"This is the same collar we used at the bondage club photoshoot. Even then, you had already made me your slave, I just didn't know it."

"I'm glad you can take this so well. It took a lot of meticulous planning, and I don't mind bragging about it. You are the only person who can understand the depths of my imagination."

"I would never deny that, mistress," I assured her.

That night we went for a long drive, Donna was wearing a khaki hiking outfit, and I was wearing nothing. She had also made sure there wasn't anything else in the car. No clothes, no blankets. Near downtown, on a corner not far from a busy theater, she ordered me out to the sidewalk. As the door closed, I heard it lock. She rolled the window partially down.

"I am going to drive around the block and pick you up when I come back," she said. "We are doing this here, and over time, many other crowded places. But you need to use that resourceful brain of yours to figure out what to do if I don't come back. Because one of these times, I'm just going to drive home. See you in five minutes. Maybe."

She rolled the window up and drove on. I stepped off the sidewalk behind a tall hedge. There was plenty of foot traffic. Noise everywhere. Bright neon lights in both directions. I tried to keep my breathing under control. Tried to fight off a sense of panic. I had no doubt Donna would drive away and leave me somewhere. She'd already done it three times. But no, I thought. Donna's brilliance will not allow her to abandon me in some boring place like a theater district. She will need something spectacular. Something to maximize my humiliation. That was what I would watch for.

A middle-aged man stopped, looking in my direction, and then crept closer.

"Girl? Are you naked?" he asked.

"Yes," I said with a pretend shiver, hands over my breasts and privates.

"Maybe I can help you? Would you like to get in my car?"

"No thank you," I answered.

"I could call a policeman. Would you like me to call a policeman?"

The creep knew I didn't. Fortunately, I could see him better than he could see me, partially obscured by the thick bushes. Approving loan applications at the real estate office, I often had the chance to observe our clients. Some were confident, expecting the loan. Others were unsure, wondering where they stood. I would have to call this guy frumpy. Poorly cut hair beginning to turn gray. Not terrible clothes, but not expensive. Someone who doesn't take chances.

"Please don't let him see me," I whimpered.

"What? Who?" he asked, looking around.

"My boyfriend. He has a knife. He thinks I've been meeting my lover out here."

"Your lover? Is he here?" he said.

"No, Jimmy left town in a hurry. Without even saying goodbye. You kind of look like him. My boyfriend wants revenge."

"And he has a knife?" creepy guy said, breathing escalating. I saw the fear. The word "knife" will do that. I waited for the right moment, looking down the block.

"Is that him? Oh, my God, it is! He's coming! Please help me!" I begged.

I'd never seen an older man run so fast. About five minutes later, Donna returned and opened the car door.

"Any excitement, dearest?" Donna asked.

"Oh, Donna, I was so frightened. What if someone had seen me? I might have been arrested. Put in handcuffs, naked. But I was getting aroused, too. It's all so sexy."

* * * * * *

Donna worked hard to keep me off-balance and was usually successful. On a Friday evening, I entered the service porch, locked my clothes in the toolbox, and walked through the kitchen and dining area into the living room. There was a woman on the couch with poorly dyed red hair, a pale complexion, about 40-years old, and modestly overweight. I knelt in my compulsory position and said nothing, waiting.

"Tracy, this is Miranda Evans," Donna introduced. "She has been filming some of your adventures, when not providing needed distractions."

"Like when she broke a vase at Neiman Marcus to cover for my supposed theft of the Ferragamo Hug?" I asked. I had noticed a redhead on the far side of the store that day but didn't specifically recognize Miranda. But it made sense it was the same woman.

"Goddamn it, Donna! You weren't supposed to tell her that!" Miranda shouted.

High-strung, I surmised. Feelings of inadequacy. Poor education. Leans on Donna for ego support. Low ego is her weakness.

"I told her nothing. She's just guessing," Donna replied, looking down at me with a strange expression.

"What about when she went back and stole the bag for real?" I asked.

"Donna! What the fuck! You told her everything! That was a felony!" Miranda shrieked.

"It's only a guess. A guess. Don't give everything away," Donna urged.

"Do not fear, Mistress Miranda. Mistress Donna has total control over me. I will not betray you. Unless she tells me to."

Miranda glanced at Donna, not reassured. But they had business to discuss.

"Miranda will be your official photographer," Donna announced. "You must obey her as you obey me."

"Yes, mistress," I acknowledged. "Mistress Miranda, will you order me to have sex with you? I am eager if that is what you wish."

"I'm not a lesbian, dungeon bait. Just do what you're told," she answered. She got up and headed toward the bathroom. Donna knelt before me, both hands on my cheeks, and looked me in the eye.

"You really got under her skin," Donna said.

"Yes, mistress," I agreed. She looked at me with a new passion. Something different than before. And then she kissed me on the lips.

"I am so proud of you," she whispered.

"Why is your co-conspirator here?" I asked.

"Miranda is not my co-conspirator," Donna answered. "She's a worm fit only to do my bidding. I can prove she stole the Ferragamo Hug if she tries to cross me. And a lot more. Are you ready for your next mission?"

I wasn't, not that my opinion mattered.

* * * * * *

Donna picked a mid-summer Friday evening, driving towards Sullivan Park, the largest in the city. It was popular for dance performances, outdoor plays, sports events, a carousel, and street performers.

"Don't worry, we're only on a scouting mission," Donna said, seeking to put me at ease.

Normally if on a mission, I would take off my mother's gold cross, but as I wasn't running tonight, I kept it on, clutching the chain from time to time. I needed all the help I could get.

There were a thousand people in the park that evening enjoying live music and sports events. After parking in the main lot, Donna led me toward the women's restroom near the grand fountain. We sat on the bench, watching the crowds. I started getting an uneasy feeling.

"The grand fountain is under repair," Donna said, pointing. "The statue of Athena in the center has been temporarily removed, leaving her platform open. Five rows of limestone steps lead to her from five different directions, creating a star pattern. At 8 pm, the water show will begin with colored spotlights, water jets, and classical music."

"Yes, I know. Before Tim and I broke up, he brought me here all the time," I said.

"It's very beautiful, isn't it? And the night is beautiful," she mentioned.

"Very beautiful," I agreed.

"I've changed my mind about our mission. We will do this now," she decided.

"Do what? What can we possibly do with so many people all around us?"

"You will wait for the second water show, disrobe in the women's room, and as the music begins, run across a row of stones to the empty platform and dance there until the song stops."

"Those songs are three or four minutes long!" I nearly shouted. "Even if the cops don't wade in to stop me, they'll surround the fountain. I'll get caught."

"I don't care if you get caught," Donna said.

"How can you say that?" I asked. "I'll lose my job. My apartment. I'll lose everything."

"No, you won't lose everything. You won't lose me," she explained. "I'll post bail, get you a good lawyer, and when you get out on probation, we'll resume where we left off. As for jobs, pretty little things like you can always find work. Or make money some other way."

"Donna, my life will be ruined," I whined.

"This is your life now. It's our life. Together," she insisted, pulling me into her arms. "Don't cry. We have many adventures ahead. Besides, the authorities might think it's an artistic performance if you dance well enough. The plumes of water and colored lights will provide some cover."

"Not enough. Not enough to get away," I insisted.

"I have faith in you dear. You'll find a way. Now I must leave. We can't be seen together, but I'll be in the audience, and Miranda is here with her camera. Have fun." She kissed me on the forehead and disappeared.

I remained on the bench in tears, wanting to run away. But how could I? Donna had her heart set on this spectacle. Even if she didn't release all of my photos, she could post a few of them as punishment. The more I thought about it, the more I cried.

"Excuse me, dear? Are you all right?" a woman asked. I looked up as my makeup ran down my face in dark streams. She was nicely dressed for the summer night, in her early forties, with soft brown eyes. Like me, she wore a small gold cross around her neck. With her was a little girl about six years old in a fairy princess costume.

"My life is about to end," I replied, the words broken.

"Wait, I know you," the woman said, sitting next to me. "You're that girl from the mall. The girl who--" She paused, looking at her daughter.

"The one who had no clothes," the little girl said with a giggle. I nodded, unable to speak.

"My name is Angela Garcia. My girlfriends in college had some adventures like that. But we ran with joy and excitement. You were running in terror. I'd never seen such fear. May I ask a question?"

I nodded, looking at the hundreds of people filtering into the plaza for the light show.

"Did you do that because you wanted to, or was someone making you do it?" Angela asked.

"It wasn't because I wanted to. And now they are making me do it again. My life is over," I answered.

"Go to the police," she suggested.

I needed to think for a moment. As much as I hated deceiving this nice lady, telling the truth would take too long. And I didn't want her involved.

"They will hurt someone I love if I go to the police," I explained. "They have all the power."

"What are they making you do?" she asked.

"When the second show starts, I'm supposed to go out there and dance," I said, pointing to the fountain. "Without my clothes on. Everyone will see me. They'll take pictures. The cops will arrest me."

As the reality of it all sank in, I curled back against the bench and began to sob. The first show would start in fifteen minutes, and five minutes later, my part would begin. And my life would end. Angela took me in her arms.

"There must be something you can do?" she urged.

"I don't know what. When the music starts, I only have a few seconds to get out there. Oh, God, this is going to be so awful."

"We can help her, momma," the little girl said.

"How is that, Carla?" Angela questioned.

"My fairy mask," Carla said, taking it off. It was a heavy gold fabric with wide brims and a tight headband. "No one will know her if she wears my mask."

"You know, I think she has something here," Angela said, holding it up to my face. "It covers your forehead and nose. The eyeholes are deep enough that your eyes look black, especially with all this runny makeup. You really need a better brand, dear, if you're going to cry so much."

I tried to laugh at her joke. "You shouldn't become part of this. What if--"

"You let me worry about what if," Angela sternly answered. "What do you think, sweetheart? Should we help this poor girl?"

"Oh yes, momma. She's nice," Carla answered.

We retired to the women's restroom, currently empty, and Angela got to work.

"Strip off your shirt," she ordered.

I hadn't expected to lose my clothes so soon, but she had a plan, and I had nothing. I was at her total mercy. Carla was going through her mother's purse, taking out lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara, and a dark golden blush.

With a confidence I could never imagine, Angela began to paint my body. Curved lines, swirls, circles, and streaks. She got more and more eager, letting Carla help. It became a mother-daughter project.

We moved into a handicapped stall where my pants were removed and work on my legs began. Only wearing my panties, I really had trouble figuring out what they were doing. Hopefully it wasn't a big joke to make my inevitable arrest more humiliating.

"Your wallet is still in your pocket, dear," Angela warned. It was true. Donna said this was only a scout mission. She opened it, looking at my driver's license.

"I'll keep this for you," she decided, tucking it in her purse. Carla stepped out of the stall to moisten a stack of paper towels. Some of the 'paints' would be smeared to make them bigger.

"My life is in your hands. My whole life. You know that, don't you?" I said, quivering in fear. Angela put both hands on my arms, gripping tightly.

"You will get through this. And the evil people making you do it will be punished," she replied. "Now you need to be brave. I see a lot of bravery in you. When the song ends, run north for the trees. Do you know the Lover's Walk?"

"Yes. I was hoping a nice man would propose to me there someday," I confirmed.

"You go there. You run like hell," Angela said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Will you do what I say?" she responded.

"Yes, but please, don't get yourself in trouble," I said, starting to cry again. Angela took hold of the cross around my neck.

"Do you believe in Him?" she asked.

"I do, though it's been hard lately," I answered.

"Don't lose your faith. Never lose your faith," Angela whispered.

At that moment, I made a decision to trust her, implicitly and with my whole heart. Was it a mistake? I couldn't worry about that now. I unclasped the chain from around my neck.

"My mother gave me this when I left for college," I said, handing her the gold cross. "Please give it to Carla. It might be the last thing I ever own."

"I can't take such a lovely gift," Angela said, trying to give it back.

"The police will take it when I'm caught. I'd rather your sweet daughter has it instead."

Angela tucked it in her purse. We heard the music start outside. The first water show was about to begin.

"My girlfriends and I get together every month to swap stories," Angela said. "You are going to give me the best one in a long time. This is so exciting. And you are going to get through it. Now, one more thing." Angela motioned to Carla. "Carla, will you watch the door for us?"

"Yes, momma," she answered, stepping outside.

Once her daughter was gone, Angela turned back to me. "Okay, we're alone now. Remove your panties."

I dropped them without question and stepped out, standing nude before her. She knelt on the tile floor, and to my astonishment, began to apply the thick golden blush to my pubic region!

"It's good you're waxed, dear heart," Angela said. I took a look down. My lower region looked like it had a patch over it. "This won't pass a close inspection once the water starts hitting you but in the fountain, surrounded by all those jets, it should look like a costume for a few minutes. Believe me, I know."

"It's almost time," Carla said, peeking into the restroom. She laughed as I stepped out of the stall, now thoroughly painted. "She looks like a magical zebra, momma."

"She will be magical," Angela replied, gathering up all my clothes. And then they left without another word. I crept up to the door, watching the water show. They were playing Blue Danube by Strauss over the loudspeakers. I saw about a hundred people near the fountain, and quite a few more watching from the benches and sidewalks. It was a four-minute presentation, which was about average. The show ended and the lights went out during the 90-second intermission. I strapped on the fairy mask and made my move.

One of the five limestone brick paths led to the center of the fountain. The blocks were wet but not slick. Still, I'd need to be careful, for the lighting was poor. I counted nine stones before stepping up on the circular marble platform where an eight-foot bronze statue of the Greek goddess Athena had stood a few weeks before.

The music started. What song would they play? I wondered, listening to the first few notes. It was Beethoven's Ode to Joy. Not exactly fitting my mood, but good for my purpose. And I had heard the presentation before, just under four minutes. It was time to remember my ballet classes from when I was five years old. Water plumes burst into the air like geysers, colored spotlights flashed, and the audience suddenly found a dancer in the middle of the mayhem!

I began with my hands pressed together over my head, baring my breasts, and standing as tall as I could on my toes. The pose was only held for a few seconds before I dropped my arms to shield my chest, and then I swayed from side to side with the music, matching its rhythm. The audience watching the colored lights began to pay attention. Phones were raised and photos taken. I was so glad to have Carla's mask, giving me a hesitant confidence.

Using the water jets to conceal my exposed undercarriage, I lowered myself with deep knee bends, turned in a circle, and then circled again, one arm stretched out, and then the other, always using one to cover my breasts. To the extent that was possible.

"It's a water nymph," someone shouted.

I hadn't seen any cops yet. They were probably calling headquarters to see if this was a legitimate recital or a crazy person. I kept up the pretense, doing everything I could to make it look artistic. And the longer the song went on, the more I felt the vibrations of the loudspeakers, the mists of cascading water, and the spinning visuals, becoming one with the performance. And the audience was great. Urging me on. I felt like I could do anything.

"She's beautiful," someone said.

"Wonderful."

There were more comments until someone shouted, "Is she naked?"

"No, it's a skintight outfit."

"I think she's naked."

The water jets were causing many of the colors to run. If the audience wasn't sure now about my lack of attire, they soon would be.

"This is amazing. Is it on the program?"

I could not see their faces, the water jets and twisting colored lights turned the audience into a dark mass. But then I heard a radio. A police radio. Had they found out? Were they closing in?

I guessed the music would run another minute. They never played the entire symphony. I gave it everything I had, taking inspiration from the audience, leaping into the air, landing on one foot, and leaping again to land on the other. Turning and twirling, now with both hands over my head before bringing them gracefully down and outward.

Angry words were coming from the spectators.

"Officer, you stop," someone said.

"Leave her alone."

"Don't ruin the show!" another protested.

"Damn cops," a man grunted.

I heard a radio gurgle. "Unauthorized. Apprehend."

Would they wade out into the water to grab me? With the heavy spray coming from every direction? The music hadn't stopped, probably on a timer in a booth somewhere.

"Leave the poor girl alone!" a woman yelled.

I sensed the crowd was restless. Moving around. I heard a police officer say, "Step back, ma'am."

If the water show was like the others, it was about to end. The water jets would slowly drop down, the swirling spotlights dimming, and then conclude with a final burst of explosive energy. The 90-second blackout that followed was my only hope for salvation. I bowed deeply to my loyal fans with a flourish, grateful for their support. The lights went out. I ran.

Angela had said to run north. I didn't know why and had no time to question it. I'd seen the limestone blocks long enough to know each one, skipping across like my life depended on it. Lights along the periphery gave a hazy glow. There was a small crowd at the edge of the fountain. A handful of cops to the left and right, but none in front of me. Would I need to fight my way through the onlookers? It would only take one to grab such a delicious prize. I was breathing hard, trusting my luck, for that's all I had now. The cops were shifting. Closing in.

Suddenly, the group in front of me stepped aside, opening a clear path to the woods! The cops were being screened out!

"Go, girl, go! Go!" they shouted, laughing and waving me on.

I sprinted between them, running like hell as Angela had told me, reaching the Lover's Walk just ahead of possible pursuit.

The winding path offered dark areas for couples to smooch, but none that would provide a hiding place for long. I plunged forward, hoping against hope that something would turn up. I heard the cops behind me now screeching into their radios, their flashlights jumping in every direction as they searched the dark path.

The logical thing for me to do was break off into the thick trees, which I'm sure the cops were expecting. Looking from side to side slowed them down. I slowed for nothing. Soon the Lover's Walk would come to an end, breaking out into well-lit soccer fields. Two games were in progress being watched by noisy spectators. Could I run through them? I was getting tired. Could I make it across the fields? Run naked through scores of people to the parking lot? Where would I go after that?

Then I saw him. A middle-aged man in a white jacket and chef's hat standing next to a food service cart. His inventory was stacked on the sidewalk, and he was holding a hand drawn sign. It read, "Tracy" and had an arrow pointing to the open door of the cart's storage compartment. I charged forward, slid down on the grass at his feet, and crawled in. The metal door slammed behind me.

"Fernando, did you see her?" an out-of-breath voice asked.

"Que es?" Fernando said, standing right next to me.

"We know you speak English. Did you see the girl?"

"There are girls everywhere. What does she look like?" Fernando said.

"She's naked and wearing a mask," the cop answered. "Painted to look like a witch."

"Fabulous!" Fernando said. "Can I help you search?"

There was a moment of silence. I think the cops were looking at the soccer fields, but it was obvious I hadn't gone that direction.

"She's still in the woods," someone said.

"Fuck, how did we miss her?" his partner cursed. I heard their retreating footsteps.

"Have no fear, chiquita. The park closes in an hour. You are safe now," my protector said.

I was breathing hard. Sweaty. My "costume" was a smeary mess. I sat on my butt clutching my knees. Had I really escaped? How was that even possible?

The cart started rolling, the big wooden wheels creaking. Fernando began calling out to the soccer players that he had refreshments. Hopefully one of the treats wouldn't be me. Through a seam in the aluminum wall, I saw we were going to the grass fields lit by tall overhead lights. Dozens of thirsty young men in sweaty shorts surrounded the cart seeking water and sports drinks while I was hunched naked only inches away. It was kind of hot.

The games ended. Lights flashed to show the park was closing. Fernando rolled the cart to the parking lot where a lift stored it in his van. Once inside, he unlocked the door, letting me roll out. Angela was kneeling next to me, Carla watching from the passenger seat. I crawled into Angela's arms and started crying.

"Thank you, thank you," I muttered. "If I ever have a daughter, I will name her after you. If I have a hundred daughters, I will name them all after you."

"Sweetheart, you are so brave," she said, hugging me with warmth. "And your performance was beautiful. You won many hearts tonight."

"I was so scared," I confessed. "Thank you for the mask, Carla. You saved me. And Fernando? How can I ever thank you enough?"

"You can put on this jacket," Fernando replied. "Let's not tell my wife that I spent the night with a pretty nude girl hiding in my cart."

Donna was waiting in my apartment when I got home, sitting at the kitchen table with half a bottle of red wine. She looked sloshed.

"Think you're pretty smart, aren't you?" she sneered.

"I don't know what you mean. I danced naked in the fountain for the entire song, just like you ordered. Weren't you watching?"

"Your performance sucked. Where did you learn that arm waving nonsense? And those stupid dance steps."

"Ballet class. When I was five."

"That's what it looked like. I can see your next assignment will need to be harder. Much, much harder."

* * * * * *

To be continued ...

Author's note: if you are enjoying this series, please give it your support.