"And so to teach that cretin Wendell a lesson, I'm hereby evicting

your poor old in-laws as of five o'clock today."  Kathryn's cover

girl smile was a twisted, feral thing, a smile that tasted blood.

Amy shook her head.  "You can't!  Please!  they're old!  They

don't have any money!  They--"

Kathryn waved a manicured hand impatiently.  "They're gone

already.  Off to section eight housing in the city.  Welfare will

cover some of their needs, but as for the rest, who cares?  Not I.

Wendell must learn who his superiors are, and never, ever to treat

them with disrespect again, don't you think?  Especially his new

boss."

"WHAT!?!" Amy's mind was rolling on a rough sea of unreality

now, reeling with each new revelation.

The manicured nail ran itself through curtly trimmed blond bangs.

"Daddy owned the little factory Wendell works at.  And so I own

it now.  I'm Wendell's boss."

Amy looked at the wedding band, HER wedding band, on the

desk.  Her eyes were brimming with tears.  She had sacrificed

almost everything-- her dignity, her pride, her self-respect.  She

would do this for Wendell.  With sad concentration, she played

her last card.

"If you let my in-laws keep their home and let Wendell keep his

job, I'll divorce him.  He's yours.  I'll disappear.  It's what you've

always wanted. And you'll have it-- all."

Kathryn clapped theatrically.  "Bravo!  The heroine bravely gives

her all!  True love triumphs!  Just one question," she added

mockingly.  "What makes you think I want him?  He's fat, drunk

and stupid.  If I wanted a husband, I'd have kept the one I had, my

dear.  He was much prettier than Wendell ever was.  Too

independent, but certainly prettier.  Alas, I had to give him up.

But just for your peace of mind, he'll be allowed to keep his job,

though only with a demotion-- to janitor."

Amy's pulse raced.  There was more, there was more coming.

She had to be brave.

"As for your in-laws-- too late.  They'll disappear into nothingness

with time.  I've already forgotten about the whole thing.  But your

other suggestion was intriguing.  Divorce?  I'm amused.  Yes,

you'll divorce Wendell.  Men don't marry whores like you-- they

fuck them."

Amy stood up.  "I'm not listening anymore.  I'm not divorcing

Wendell.  I'm going to get my in-laws right now. "

Kathryn shook her head with mock regret.  "No, bitch, you WILL

listen.  You WILL forget about your in-laws.  And you WILL

divorce Wendell-- the reason will be how he is unable to satisfy

you sexually.  You will be graphic about just how MUCH sex

you require to be satisfied.  Wendell won't fight hard-- I doubt he

has money for a lawyer!  And he'll have to bring up those nasty

used condoms he found, won't he?  It should be an interesting

trial, don't you think?  Who do you think will win-- him because

his wife is such a whore, or you because your husband is such an

effeminate wimp?"  She cackled in delight at the scene.

"You can't make me do ANYTHING!" Amy screeched.  "Not

anymore!  Never again! I'm free-- free-- FREE!" Amy babbled.

She was hysterical now, unable to control herself.

"''Fraid not, Amy.  Take a look."  Kathyrn coolly pushed a stack

of video tapes, a photo album and a stack of legal papers toward

her.

Amy looked at the photo album. The cover read "Amy's

Scrapbook."  She knew what was inside, but forced herself to

confirm her worst fears.  There were scores of candid shots, all of

Amy-- on her back, playing with one of her 'toys', stripping for

the photographer.  There were letters she had written-- all to an

anonymous "Big Cock" from "Your Loving Fuckhole, Amy

Walenski."  There were details of things the writer fantasized

about doing, awful things, all sealed with big wet kissmarks and

scented with Amy's perfume.

She calmed herself.  It didn't mean anything, she told herself

numbly.  There could be explanations.  Or she could move, that

was it, she would move away from Bentson...

Kathryn pushed the rest of the pile toward her.  Amy unwillingly

picked up a video.  It had a cleanly printed label on it:  "The

Adventures of Amy Walenski."

"Daddy had the whole lot produced commercially.  You star in

your own series, Amy."  Kathryn mouthed the names as Amy

read them off: "Call Girl Cums On Command", "Dildo Darling

Does It Deep", "Amateur Amy:  Striptease Slut," "Cheap Motel

Quickie Girl",  "Horny Housewife Hump Fun",  "Date Rape

Dream Girl",  "Blow Job Bimbo",   "Sassy Schoolgirl Gets

Spanked"...  There were four or five more.

Amy put the tape down. A tentative smile blossomed.  "You can't

use these.  They'd show your father doing all these things to me.

You wouldn't DARE ruin him--"

The heiress smirked.  "Try again, cupcake.  Daddy's nowhere in

these tapes.  It's all Amy going solo.  No faces, no names used.

Just you and your favorite part of the male anatomy-- up close

and personal."

But Amy's angry smile refused to die.  It hung on stubbornly.

"You use these and I'll sue you.  Big time.'

Again, Kathryn shook her head. "No, no you won't.  Because I

have a perfect right to produce and distribute these

commercially."  She pointed at the stack of legal papers.  "Too

bad stupid little secretary Amy didn't read everything she signed

for the Boss.  You gave his dummy off-shore corporation

complete power and authority over your 'performances' in

exchange for fifty dollars a piece-- your 'allowance' I believe it

was.  As Daddy's sole heir, I now hold those rights."

Amy's brown eyes narrowed, her thin, too-long nose was

quivering with frustration, her small mouth clamped shut.  At last

she spoke.  "Fine-- you want me to divorce Wendell or you'll

prove what a slut I am-- what your father turned me into?  You

pushed me too far Kathryn.  There's no reason for me to do

anything you say.  Either way I turn, you'll show me up as a

whore-- whether you use the tapes OR make me divorce Wendell

the way you said.  I can't win.  Which means in a way I can't lose

either.  I'll leaving.  Do what you want.  I'm leaving town.  I don't

know why you want to hurt me, but I'm going someplace you'll

never find me."

The blonde didn't say a word, merely smiled coldly.  "Good luck

to you, Amy.  Where will you go?  No matter, I'll track you

down. And wherever it is, I'll make sure these," she pointed at the

stack of videos," are given FREE OF CHARGE to EVERY

FUCKING VIDEO RENTAL STORE in a fifty mile radius.

Your new neighbors, new co-workers, new boyfriend, and yes,

your new BOSS will know just what you are, Amy Walenski.  A

porn star.  A slut into the kinkiest kinds of sex.  You should be a

popular gal, Amy.  You're right about the situation," Kathryn

acknowledged, "In Bentson you'll always have the reputation a

being a cheap little slut.  But that's still better than being known as

an outright prostitute and porn star, isn't it my dear?"

Amy's last desperate smile disintegrated.  She looked down.

Defeated.

"What do you want?" she whispered pitifully.

Kathryn reached out, stroking Amy's golden cheek.  "Just what is

rightfully mine, what I have inherited from my father. I want

you, Amy.  You're working for me from now on."

The young wife gasped and shook violently, shrinking from the

caress and shaking her head.  Her mouth formed a horrified "O"

as comprehension settled on her.  "You are offering me the choice

between being a slut or being known as a slut? No way.  I'm not

working for you.  There's no way.  Let people talk-- it's still better

than, than, than," Amy couldn't verbalize what things she

imagined Kathryn would want from her, would have her do---

"Better than prison?  Or maybe execution?"  Amy stood up, sat

down.  It was a bluff of some kind.  What kind of stupidity was

this bitch babbling about now? But Kathryn's slate eyes were

narrowed in deadly earnest.  She passed a stack of papers toward

Amy.  It took her a minute to fix on them, what they were.  As

she reviewed them, Kathryn filled in the last bitter details.

"Daddy's business dealings outside the community were

extensive.  I believe you met some of his associates some time

ago.  South American gentlemen very interested in laundering

some particularly dirty drug money through a bank in El Norte.

Daddy was happy to oblige-- for a fee.

But as you can see, his name isn't on those documents, the ones

opening the large commercial accounts in which their money was

washed."

Amy could see that.  It was her name instead.  She had willingly

signed the papers-- as a witness she had thought.  But hers was

the only signature now-- just hers and those of the South

American "businessmen."  Kathryn continued, in a stern, public

voice, from a law book produced from the bookshelf.

"Criminal Code Statute 77-A-551 states 'Any individual involved

in the transfer of moneys related to the sale of narcotics shall be

prosecuted as would an individual directly responsible for sales of

those illegal substances to the legal limit of the law.'  That means

you go down for five million in drug sales, honey.  Big time.

And there's a death penalty in this state.  The war on drugs takes

no prisoners, Amy.  And shows no mercy to drug dealing scum---

like you."  Kathryn gently took all the documents and placed

them back in the safe.

"But I didn't-- I never--  how could I--" Amy half-mumbled, half-

whined.

"You worked in the bank-- the perfect cover.  Signing documents

was a regular part of your duties.  You simply took the

opportunity to make some money on the side-- a bribe maybe.

Drugs maybe.  Who cares why you did it?  You're just a slut--

nobody would be surprised, believe me," Kathryn promised her

with certainty.

"So, Amy-- what's it to be?  Slut or convict?  Either way I'm

delighted.  Even if you do chose to go the can, how long do you

think you could stand being some diesel dyke's bedmate?  How

long before you begged me to arrange a pardon?"  Kathryn

reached out to caress her former classmate.

But this time, Amy did not shirk from the caress.  She endured it.

As she would learn to endure a whole new kind of living hell.

Being a slave to a man had been unbearable.  Amy could only

imagine what being the possession of a woman would be like,

especially one like Kathryn.  Unremitting sheer agony. But there

was no longer a choice.  Like her father before her, Kathryn had

laid out the facts.  Prison would be worse, far worse.

"I have something in mind for you Amy.  I'll need a tarty

secretary to attend to my needs as I run Daddy's business

concerns.  You'll do quite nicely I think.  You'll obey my

commands, do I'll the things I've thought about doing to you since

you crossed me.  Both in the office and after-hours.  I have soooo

many ideas, Amy.  You'll be surprised.  Creativity runs in my

family that way."  Kathryn's blood red lips offered her prize a

ripsaw smile.

"And you'll soon learn that there's just one difference between me

and Daddy.  I always thought he was too, too much of a softy."

With that promise made, Kathryn opened the top desk drawer and

pulled out a riding crop.  She pushed her chair back and patted

her lap.

"Ready to learn your first lesson, Amy?"

Amy rose unsteadily.  She had been here before, it was deja vu.

"Y-yes, Ms. Baines," she answered, void of resistance.  The

words came easily now that her fate was sealed.

"A smile, if you please, Amy."

Amy reached into her recent memory, found all the equipment

she'd need-- the feelings of worthlessness, the whorish eagerness

to obey and please, the humiliating wetness between her legs

spreading...   Amy Walenski let it all fall naturally, comfortably

into place:  the smile-leer, the misty kept-woman eyes, the licking

lips, the out-thrust chest.  The pants were pulled down, the blouse

removed without even an order. With docile resignation, the

secretary draped herself over her new mistress's lap.

As Kathryn let the crop fall, Amy tensed.  Then she began to sob

helplessly, then she began to beg for mercy.  Kathryn merely

smirked, as she stroked the hard crop against the small, shapely

ass of her new pet.

"He would have wanted it this way, don't you think, Amy?"