Captive Hacker 1/10

Dedicated to "J"

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Chapter 1 {F/F/M ds bd mc span humil tg}
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I am sitting at a vintage dusty computer writing this. Not knowing and not expecting that anybody will ever read it. There is no phone connection, cable modem or any way that I can send it to the real world. The real world, my life, seems a distant and strange dream now. Perhaps that is the main reason I am writing, so that I am reminded of who I was. If the yellowing papers here are to be believed it has been several months since I was Johnny Brain, reasonable hacker and student.

It began when my door suddenly burst open to reveal several FBI agents and I was hauled off in handcuffs protesting my innocence of everything to god-knows-where. All my things were taken from me, even my name. I was prisoner 1337, which must have been the idea someone who knows a little hacker slang, or destinies sick joke. I wore a thin cotton suit, no shoes or socks. I could not shower for days. There was little and poor food.

The days passed as I was ruthlessly interrogated about my terrorist links. I thought this was all a joke, and at first calmly, then angrily, then despairingly asked for a phone call, a lawyer, any contact with the outside world. These were all denied because I was a dangerous terrorist, and the meaningless questions continued. I did not know how to answer, and tried everything from simple don't knows, outright angry denial, appeals to reason and sullen silence. Nothing made any difference, until I offered to show them the encrypted files on my PC. Even admitting to pirated mp3s and warez were better then the impossible situation I was in.

The sight of my PC after such a long time was a shock. The first tangible link to the real world I had seen in weeks. I trembled slightly as I sat down at the keyboard and opened the locked files. I was immediately pushed out of the way as a federal agent started opening the documents that had been hidden. To my total surprise and absolute horror the documents they paged through were densely scientific material about nuclear isotopes, chemical pre-cursors and biological agents.

Needless to say the questioning continued un-abated about my links to Osama bin-Laden, al-Queda and Islamic Jihad. I had no way of answering and despaired of proving I did not know how the documents came to be on my machine. After what seemed like several weeks of this, the questioning stopped. In a way I missed the contact because I was left in the white walled cell for hours without a soul to talk to. I lost all sense of time in the continuous white fluorescent light. Exercise was an hour a day walking round a larger white painted room. Meals were still poor and meagre. I lost a lot of weight. Nobody answered my questions.

The routine suddenly changed when I was summoned to meet someone. Just the relief of interacting with another person put a spring in my step. I was shown to the ubiquitous interview room. Sitting in the only chair behind a desk was a woman. I'll describe her in a little more detail because she is the principle player in the remainder of this tale. She was of moderate height. Her figure in the tightly tailored suit was good, she was reasonably buxom. She had straight long peroxide blond hair. Strong dark eyebrows, long sensuous lashes, and crystal clear blue eyes. I judged her to be in her early forties.

For the first time in an age I heard a voice as the guard introduced me
"1337. This is your lawyer. Miss Anne Green."
She regarded me impassively.
After such a long time without talking my mouth was dry. My voice caught in my throat as I muttered,
".Er. Hi"
The guard immediately interrupted.
"1337. You will call her Miss Green. Do not talk except to answer her questions."
She had held eye contact the whole time, and smiled slightly as the guard said this. The first thing she said to me surprised me a lot.
"Remove your clothing 1337."
This was the last thing I had expected to hear and did not understand exactly what she wanted.
"You want me to do ... what?" I stumbled out. The guard quickly corrected me.
"1337. Remove you clothing. Do not talk."
I did not really think, and took off the dirty white jacket. Looking briefly round for somewhere to put the jacket, I let it fall to the floor. Then I removed the pants so I stood before Miss Green in only grimy underpants.
"That'll do,” she said. "Put your hands on your head and turn around on the spot, slowly".
Without thinking I did as she asked. Not knowing if I should stop I continued to rotate under the gaze of the clear blue eyes. The strange incident finished without another word from Miss Anne Green, and I was returned to my cell. I did not know what to make of the inspection except that perhaps it was to check that I had not been physically abused.

The mind numbing routine continued for several more days until there was another visit from my lawyer. Again it was the same interview room, the same desk and the same emotionless eyes. She started with the request that I remove my clothing, and I did so, and then I was to stand with my hands on my head before the desk.
"1337" she called me. "Your situation is this. You have been tried for treason, among many other grave and serious charges. I argued for your innocence but the tribunal has found you guilty on all charges. You are to be held here in isolation for the rest of your life. It is pointless to argue, I tried everything and anything I cold think of."
Her word devastated me. I almost fainted, but the uncomfortable position of keeping my hands on my head stopped me from losing consciousness.
"However," she continued. "I have made a very special deal for you. You will be released under my cognisance to live and work in my home, though allowing the Federal authorities access to question you at any time. What do you say?"

It was an easy decision.
"Sure, yes, of course..." My initial attempts at putting my thoughts in order were immediately interrupted.
"You will continue to address me as Miss Green. I see no reason to wait. Let us go to my car now."
I bent to retrieve my clothes, but she quickly stopped me.
"Leave those here,” And with a gesture to the guard led the way from the interview room, with me dressed only in briefs following her.

The night was cold and the sky clear and black. I had not seen the sky for a long time and the sharp points of the stars were breathtakingly beautiful. Miss Green's car was waiting, a long black sleek BMW. Her driver got out to open the rear door for her. On closer inspection, the driver turned out to be a pretty oriental woman with a long black ponytail, a slim figure and dark eyes. Miss Green directed me
"You sit in the front next to Benny. He is a bit ripe Benny, but he can clean up back home."
So I said goodbye to the Federal detention centre and set out in a black German muscle machine under a cold clear sky. The journey took a couple of hours, over minor back roads. I saw few other vehicles, but it was a blessing just to take in the moon lit trees and natural surroundings.

We finally arrived at a very grandiose mansion, brightly lit at the front, but spreading a very great distance off into the shadowy tress on either side. Miss Green led me through the enormous foyer, into what was obviously her office. The desk was massive, and the walls lined with books. Benny the driver followed us in and perched in a patent leather armchair against the wall. I looked round for another chair, but before I could choose the chair that looked comfortable close to a real warming log fire, Miss Green pointed to a spot in front of her desk.
"Stand there" she orders me, and I obey. "Hands on your head" she continues, and I do her bidding self-consciously. "Good" she says as she smiles at me.
"Well, 1337, welcome to your new life. There are very many details of how you are going to work for me that will be explained to you over the time you are here. Hopefully you are a quick learner?" She smiles at me.
"Yes, Anne ... er ... Miss Green" I reply to her question.
"Good." She says, and I smile as out eyes meet. Her smile grows broader. "Let me explain a little what you are going to do. It is easy to sum up your duties in general as, 'male bondage sex slave'".
I don't know what to say to this extraordinary statement. With a puzzled frown I feel my smile slipping as I try to digest this turn of events.
"Let me make it clear" she continues. "You are going to do whatever I say, whenever I say, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Some of which will be of a very personal nature. You will be punished if you disobey or fail to satisfy me. This is the essence of being my slave. Remember that the alternative, if you do not want to serve me in this way is to return to your solitary confinement at the Federal top security establishment that I have, at great personal sacrifice, paroled you. At least nod your head if you understand" she sounds slightly irate as she says this.
Carefully, not knowing what to say, I nod.
"Excellent" she says immediately and quickly smiles at me. A smile I cannot help but return. "Benny will see that you are cleaned up, fed, and then you'll be brought here to learn some more!"