Business woman forced to become a web slut

Margie Taylor was good at selling insurance and bad at computers. By age 41, she had built Taylor Insurance into the largest independent agency in her market. The dual motivation of starting over after a devastating divorce and raising two kids motivated her to success. Her social butterfly personality caused her to not worry about things like updating her computer software.

As Margie headed home from the office, she beamed at the billboard above the interstate. The billboard adorned with her smiling face read “Call Margie Taylor for Your Insurance Needs” and gave her instant recognition wherever she went. Margie liked her picture, as it accentuated her bright smile and reddish blonde hair.

On her way home, Margie picked up Chinese takeout and saw her picture in the restaurant news stand front and center on the Weekly Circular ad magazine. She smiled inwardly at her hard earned, city-wide fame. With the kids away at grandma’s for the week, she relaxed after dinner in front of her computer wearing sweats and a t-shirt, sipping a glass of wine.

Brian Webb chose his victim carefully. First, he chose her totally at random. That way he would not be a suspect if his plan exploded and the police investigated her inner circle of male friends. He could have gone with the brunette real-estate agent, or the new female ob-gyn advertising her services at Downtown Medical Center. But something about Margie Taylor’s sweet, innocent smile on those ads drove him to her.

Also Margie’s divorce, which was public record at the courthouse, combined with her recent personal human interest story in the Weekly Circular, signaled that she had no husband or boyfriend at home for support, support that would be needed but unavailable when Brian sprang his trap.

Finally, his background in computers gave him the hacking and spying skills to do the unthinkable and hide his tracks.

Margie changed into her sweats and a t-shirt and settled in to check some e-mails on her durable, but old Windows computer containing all her important work files. She took a sip of wine, clicked on an email with a cute smiley face, and suddenly her computer monitor turned bright red. The words ALL YOUR COMPUTER FILES HAVE BEEN ENCRYPTED screamed at her!! IN ONE HOUR ALL YOUR FILES WILL BE DESTROYED, UNLESS I PROVIDE YOU WITH A KEY.

The words began slowly scrolling, with the following instructions, “in order to obtain the key, please go to your dressing room, and take no fewer than 30 pictures of yourself on your phone. Five must be with you totally dressed, five with you topless, and the other twenty with you exhibiting full frontal nudity… Look straight into the camera and smile in the pictures like you do on the billboard and your face must be fully recognizable. Also, take a close up picture of your drivers license with your phone. When you complete this task, text the pictures to xxx-xxx-xxxx (Nude). After that you will receive a text with the key. Should you think about calling for help, please know that all your customer files have been compromised and their personal information is in our control. It is in your best interest to follow orders.”

Margie practically lost her breath and began to sweat and shake. Suddenly, a countdown camera appeared on the screen; 59 minutes and counting down. Margie cried “no way am I doing this!” Then she thought about all her customers, their names, social security numbers, birthdays, addresses, cell phone numbers, billing information. All that information in the wrong hands would ruin her professionally. But so would naked pictures out of her control.

The countdown clock continued to run. Margie gulped down the wine, as her whole career flashed through her mind. More words scrolled through the screen, ominously stating “we are currently processing your customers’ information to begin hitting their credit cards within the hour.” Margie sat in a daze as the countdown clock ran below 50 minutes.

Slowly, the full realization of what she must do dawned on her. She had seen enough “mirror selfies” to know the drill. She had even snapped one of herself in a spring dress for a Facebook profile pic. Margie staggered to the bathroom, gazing into the full length mirror on the door. Suddenly, she felt a strange revulsion as she found herself looking in her closet for something fashionable.

Why was she doing this? Margie was petrified at sending out nude selfies, but self conscious about not wanting to be seen wearing sweats in a clothed shot? She even took a few minutes to refresh her blush, mascara and lipstick. Margie then walked into her closet, took a look around and picked the spring dress. She nervously put it on, as if she was about to model on the boardwalk. It had spaghetti straps and the hem hit just above the knees. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, Margie also put on stockings and heels. She then hurried to her computer to check the countdown clock: 38 minutes and counting!!

Brian held his phone in one hand, with his other hand on the computer mouse. He too watched the countdown clock, courtesy of his hacking skills. Yet, he didn’t know if Margie would fall for it or call his bluff. What was his bluff? Brian had no intention of stealing the identifies of Margie’s clients. Yes, he hacked her system but he didn’t want to go to prison for identity theft. So, he waited. He looked at his copy of the Weekly Circular with Margie’s smiling, freckled face. He felt himself becoming aroused at the possibilities, yet nervous also. Brian used an untraceable burner phone and had covered his cyber-tracks through the deep web. Still, could something go wrong? Would the police soon come knocking?

Margie stood frozen in her 5’5″ 138 pound frame. Another check on the countdown clock showed 34 minutes. She looked in the mirror, then slowly raised the phone. Remembering the instructions, she managed a faint smile. Yet, Margie knew a faint smile wouldn’t cut it. So, she forced a big, beaming smile, opened her mouth just enough to reveal the slight gap between her two upper front teeth, looked in the mirror, held up the phone and clicked. Picture one. She checked it, and everything looked normal. Then she clicked pictures two, three, four, and five. Another check on the clock: 31 minutes. But now came the big moment.

Margie shook as her hands slipped the spaghetti straps down her shoulders and unzipped the back of the dress. The light material slid down her body to her ankles. She slowly kicked the dress out of the way. Her fingers trembled as she unhooked her bra strap, letting her 38c breasts fall free and bare. At 41 years of age and two kids, Margie’s breasts sagged just a bit, leaving her long nipples pointing at a downward angle.

Margie poured another glass of wine, summoned her nerve, raised the camera, and began to snap the next five pictures. Even when faking, her smile looked genuine. Even with her heart pounding, she looked natural as a professional model clad only in stockings, panties and heels.

Brian intently watched the countdown clock. 27 minutes and counting. He knew this was wrong; that he was playing with another human being’s life, her psyche. He knew his plan could ruin the life and career that Margie Taylor had worked so hard to build. Brian Webb knew that what he had planned for Margie Taylor would in reality take them both down a dark, forbidden road. That is, if she took the bait. Part of him almost wanted Margie to call his bluff because Brian knew they could both walk away with no harm done. And he also knew that if she gave in and sent the pictures he lacked the impulse control to stop until one or both of them hit bottom.

“What if he’s bluffing”, thought Margie. She thought about putting down her phone, going to bed, and acting like nothing had happened. Still, the countdown clock ticked on; 24 minutes left and she could be free, or she could face of all her client’s identities being stolen.

With that, Margie Taylor made her fateful decision. She had been negligent in not updating her security software, something she meant to do but never got around to it. Margie knew she would lose her license to sell insurance with a mass case of client identity theft. So, she swigged the second glass of wine, slipped out of the heels and slid off her hose. With one last sigh, she slipped her panties down and stood before the mirror stark naked. The c-section scar from baby number one sat straight on top of her primarily unshaven bush.

With the clock now at 24 minutes, Margie sat on the toilet for a good long pee before taking those final, fateful pictures. The wine and nervousness had done a job on her bladder. She then got up, took a deep breath, picked up her phone, looked into the mirror with that sincere smile that adorned billboards and sold policies, and began her final round of selfies.

Margie had run out of time to hesitate. She began snapping the pictures. Even in her state of emotional upheaval, she found her inner model taking over; the same part of her that posed for the billboard pictures. She leaned forward on a few pictures, causing her breasts to hang down. She stood upright and tall, smiling to the camera. Without knowing who was on the other side of this venture, she knew what they wanted. So, Margie spread her legs slightly for a few pictures, displaying her labia, long nipples, and great smile for all to see. For a grand finale, Margie Taylor, the local business celebrity and number one selling independent agent in the entire market, hiked a leg upon the bathroom counter and snapped the remaining pictures stark naked and spread eagle.

With 14 minutes now remaining, Margie hurriedly began to dress, only to realize she had forgotten one scary, terrible picture; the close-up of her driver’s license. She dropped her clothes and scurried naked into the kitchen for her purse, with phone in hand. Margie frantically grabbed her driver’s license, laid it on the table, and took a couple of close-up shots showing her face and all her personal information. She looked at the countdown clock: 12 minutes and counting. Margie thought, “do I really have to do this?” She began to shake; to consider any way out. Time was running out and it would take a few minutes to upload 30 pictures if she was going to do it, and if she typed the phone number, selected the pictures and hit send, there would be no turning back. She would lose control of her fate.

Brian almost couldn’t stand the anxiety. He figured this was a long shot. No way would some high profile, successful business entrepreneur like Margie Taylor fall for a trick like this. No way would she…then his phone dinged. Brian couldn’t believe it. The first three pictures came in; with Margie clothed. Then two more. After what seemed forever, the pictures that Brian had worked so hard to see, had longed for and sweated over, starting coming through. He gasped to see her long, hanging nipples. The full frontal nude money shots, complete with face, tits, and labia gave Brian an instant erection and sensation of victory. Her life was now his.

Margie sat down and slumped over. She began reaching for her clothes and wondering what, if anything would happen next. Then her phone dinged with a message, “you have done well.” The text included a key for unlocking her files. Margie entered the key and instantly her computer screen returned to normal. But when another message saying “do not block this number. You will receive further instructions tomorrow night at 8 P.M.”, Margie knew her life was about to become anything but normal. She began to feel nauseous, ran to the bathroom, and promptly threw up. Margie Taylor, the President of the local Women’s Auxiliary Chamber of Commerce, was about to become a web slut.
The best laid plans often go haywire because of the human element. And Margie Taylor was no ordinary, passive human. She awoke the next morning from a nightmarish, xanax induced sleep to the stark memory of the previous night. She slowly began to replay the events in her mind, remembering that she would receive new instructions at 8 P.M. that night, and to not block that phone number.

Margie managed to shower, grab a coffee and get mad as she drove into work. By the time she unlocked her office, she had made up her mind. Whoever this creep was, she would call his bluff. Yes, he won the night before. Yes, she texted nude pics of herself to a stranger. But no more! Margie Taylor had built her insurance business on hard work and fight, and she would not entertain this pervert again.

Margie went into full social butterfly overdrive. She met with customers. She troubleshot insurance claims. She even had lunch with two ladies from her church small group Bible study. She had mentored one of them whose past involved drugs and prostitution.

Brian Webb woke the next morning to a mixture of guilt and elation. But any guilt he felt melted in the arousal he received looking at pictures of Margie Taylor naked. His plan was devious and simple. Brian spent the morning editing the pictures, with the intention of sending them back to Margie. He would force her to create a personal account on a large porn site that dealt with amateur submissions, and upload the pictures onto the website herself. He would continue his threat to text the pictures to her top male clients if she didn’t go along.

As she left work late that afternoon, Margie noticed the billboard near her office featuring her bright smile and the Margie Taylor Insurance logo. She would lose her business if those pictures got out. Yet, she was determined that this little charade would go no further. Though she didn’t drink often, this night she poured a glass of wine and resolutely blocked the number on her phone; the very number Brian Webb had instructed her not to block. Margie then turned her computer off. The wine calmed her nerves as 8 P.M. came and went.

As promised, Brian texted his next set of instructions at 8 P.M. He waited impatiently for five minutes…ten minutes…15 minutes. No response. It slowly dawned on him that Margie Taylor had called his bluff. Brian considered his options. He could walk away and delete the pictures. No harm done. He could post the pictures himself. He could carry out his threat to text the pictures. But Brian wanted to keep the game going and up the ante. Therefore, he decided on plan that would make Margie immediately and personally feel the effects of her rebellion.

The ding on her cellphone awoke Margie from a wine induced sleep. She gasped at the message. “Saw your ad on craigslist. You still looking?” “What the heck is going on”, Margie cried out. Another text came in; “hey babe, love your ad. Can I call you?” Margie frantically turned on her computer to check her hometown Craigslist ads.

Margie scanned the page till she found the personals section and clicked on the “Women Seeking Men” heading. The very top ad read “Business woman looking for a partner tonight.” When she clicked on the ad, there, for the entire world to see, was a picture of Margie smiling and topless. The ad read “A whore charges for it, but this slut gives it away for free. I’m for real, I’m drug free and disease free. You be too, because I love it bareback and hate condoms! If this ad is up, I’m still looking, send me a text and I’ll pick a lucky winner.” The ad included her cellphone number.

Margie was too tipsy and too clueless about Craigslist to know she could “flag” the ad, so she simply freaked out and froze up. Then the defiant Margie Taylor, who had said no more of this, picked up her phone with hands shaking, and unblocked the dreaded number from the previous night. The expected, fateful text soon came in.

It read, “You broke the rules. Breaking the rules has consequences. Do you understand this?” Margie meekly texted her reply, “yes, but please take that ad down. I’ll do whatever you ask.” At that moment, Brian knew that he had won. Margie knew she had lost.

The next text read “contact the men who texted or called you, and arrange to have sex tonight with one of them. Choose wisely, as he will not be wearing a condom and you don’t want to catch a disease. Text me back when you have made your arrangements. If not, the next ad will feature your name.”

Brian knew he had crossed a line. But the rush was too much. He had pushed the proverbial dominoes and was too excited to put the genie back into the bottle. Meanwhile, Margie began texting her perspective “friends.” After a few back and forth texts with three different guys, Margie ultimately chose a 61 years old, married white male in town on business and ironically staying at a Motel 6 one block from her office.

Margie texted her choice back to Brian Webb. He answered, “be sure to dress like a slut. A micro-mini skirt, or even lingerie; no panties, no bra, and no shoes. When you arrive, have him snap a picture of you on your phone in your slutty outfit. Then have him take a picture with his cock in your mouth. When you’re finished, have him snap a picture of you leaning back on your elbows, smiling, with your legs spread and his cum running out of your pussy. Send them to me ASAP. Do you understand?” “Yes”, Margie replied. As confident as she was when sober, Margie became very compliant when drinking.

Still feeling the effects of the wine, Margie walked to her closet. She gazed at her Bible study materials by her bedside and took a deep breath at the realization of what she was about to become. Then she chose a dress her ex-husband had bought as a Valentine’s gift.

The dress, if you could call it that, had spaghetti straps which came down and widened just enough to cover her long nipples, but left the meat of her breasts exposed on both sides. Its t-shirt length almost but didn’t quite cover the bottom of her ass cheeks and was open up one side above the pelvic bone. It revealed the very bottom of her pussy from the front.

A light industrial/business district 20 minutes from Margie’s house served as home for the Motel 6. Margie’s insurance office was literally one short block away, and the billboard with her smiling face and name was right next to the motel.

Margie arrived and tentatively drove around the motel to locate room 246. Much to her chagrin, it was located on the well lit front side of the motel with the parking lot practically full. Margie was forced to park on the far side of the lot, and walk barefooted in her slut skirt across the lot to the motel, then walk up a flight of outside stairs to the second floor. Just as she arrived at the stairs, she noticed two men in the shadows.

She hurried past them up the stairs, and found herself staring at room 246. Margie’s heart pounded as she weakly knocked on the door. The door opened and a man who didn’t introduce himself let her in. He offered her a shot of whiskey and though Margie was not the whiskey type, she practically downed the shot with a shudder and then downed another. The anonymous, married man was decent enough to know something wasn’t right but too horny to care.

Margie gave him a garbled explanation about needing to take some pictures on her phone, to which he quickly agreed to do. After the first picture, Margie knew what she had to do. She allowed the dress to slip to her ankles and presented her naked body to a total stranger.

In a flash she was on her knees sucking his dick. Phone cameras flashed, with Margie too buzzed and shocked to realize he was taking pictures with his own camera too. Then just as if she was a veteran porn star, Margie laid back on the bed, spread her legs and allowed a total stranger to penetrate her body. The stranger began to thrust inside her. He forced his tongue down her throat. He started grunting and calling her a “good fucking slut.”

Margie lay there, staring to one side to avoid making eye contact, looking at the whiskey bottle on a table with the motel room door in the background. She blanked everything normal out of her mind; her kids, her career, her influence, her church work, and realized that for that moment she simply was being fucked by a stranger in a cheap motel.

By : DarkVader

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