Chapter 11: Cameras, Cameras Everywhere, Part 2
Kindra and her young assistant were quite skilled in their profession, and very efficient. The living room cameras were installed in just over thirty minutes. Kindra was about to move on to another room when she noticed a box in the corner.
“I see you have a few speakers here,” she observed, crouching to peer inside. “It looks like they are part of the system. How would you like them allocated?” she asked me.
“I ordered enough for every room,” I replied. “Also, one for the front porch and one for the back yard. I want to be able to interact with Miss Joplin no matter where she happens to be.”
Miss Joplin looked mildly horrified.
“Don’t worry, Marian,” I said. “We’ll still be able to have our texting sessions that we enjoy so much. I just wanted to have another option available to us.”
I noticed Kindra and Ricky leaning in ever so slightly, clearly hanging on my every word. So I spoke slowly, for their benefit—and Miss Joplin's, of course.
“Just imagine the convenience,” I said, casually. “Wherever I am—and wherever
you are—I can simply speak into my phone and say, ‘Take off your top and bra. I want to see your breasts.’ And just like that—off they go, and I get the show I want.”
I looked at our audience of two and I wasn’t disappointed. A smiling Kindra made eye contact with me, and Ricky once again was wide-eyed and agape. I could almost see the image of a topless Miss Joplin in his cartoon thought bubble.
A few minutes later, Ricky was putting the finishing touches on the living room speaker under the guidance of his aunt. Kindra turned to me.
“Fel...may I call you Felicity?”
“Of course,” I responded.
“We’re finished in here,” she continued. “Shall we give it a test run?”
“Sounds good!”
Kindra reached into her bag and pulled out her laptop. “Maybe you and I can take this into another room.”
“Sure, let’s go in the kitchen."
As we exited, she paused and looked back toward Miss Joplin, who was standing awkwardly near the couch.
“Um, would you mind if I directed your...your subject?”
“Oh, by all means, please do.”
Kindra turned to Marian. “Ma’am, would you step over here, please?”
Marian followed obediently to the threshold of the living room. Kindra gently positioned her shoulders to face the cameras.
“Perfect. Now stand completely still until I say otherwise,” she directed in an authoritative tone. She turned to Ricky, still perched on his ladder. “You can stay right there and observe, but try not to move unless she does, so you don’t activate the camera.”
The stage was set. Kindra and I retreated to the kitchen, where she opened her laptop on the island and booted up the control panel.
“This won’t take long,” she said, fingers dancing across the keys. “I already have the app on here; I installed one of these systems just last month. I just need to connect it to this system.”
She slid the laptop to me. “Go ahead and set up your account—username and password.”
While I typed, she asked, “Do you want me to set up an account for the lady of the house too?”
“No thanks,” I responded. “She won’t be needing access.” Kindra did not seem at all surprised by my response.
Once I was logged in, she took the laptop back and typed “Living Room” into the interface.
“Let’s check the audio first.”
She clicked a button. Somewhere in the other room, a speaker chimed to life.
“Ma’am, can you hear me okay?” Kindra called out.
“Yes,” replied Miss Joplin softly. It was almost a whisper.
“You’ll need to speak up,” Kindra instructed. “We’re testing the system. Say: ‘I’m looking forward to showing off my outfit for the cameras.’ Use your regular voice.”
Oh, I’m really beginning to like this lady.
“I’m looking forward to showing off my outfit for the cameras,” Marian repeated obediently.
“Very good. We can hear you loud and clear.” Kindra turned to me. “Now, I could activate the cameras manually, but I want to test the motion sensors.”
Again she addressed Miss Joplin. “Okay, miss, I’d like you to walk to the far side of the room.”
I stared at the screen and smiled as Marian stepped forward. The camera kicked on instantly, tracking her across the floor. The quality of the video was superb, and I could clearly hear her high heels clicking against the hardwood floor.
“Wow!” I exclaimed. “That’s fantastic!”
“Oh, you’ll be amazed,” said Kindra with a grin. “Let me show you a few things.”
Miss Joplin had returned to her starting point and had stopped. Kindra spoke into the microphone. “Keep walking for us, ma'am. Just keep walking back and forth until I tell you to stop.”
While Miss Joplin subserviently traipsed back and forth across her living room, Kindra showed me how to switch cameras, to change the line of sight, and to zoom in and out. At one point, she zeroed in on Marian’s backside as it swayed rhythmically across the frame. Kindra glanced up at me with a playful smile.
Then she panned to Ricky, who looked like he was having a spiritual experience on his ladder. We both laughed.
“My nephew is having a day he won’t soon forget,” commented Kindra.
“I'm glad I could contribute,” I said with a grin.
She refocused the camera on Miss Joplin, who had returned to her mark.
“Keep walking, please,” Kindra instructed through the mic. “Back and forth until I say stop.”
Miss Joplin resumed her pacing. Kindra leaned back.
“Can I ask you something?” she said as we continued to enjoy watching Miss Joplin dutifully parade back and forth.
“Sure,” I responded receptively.
“Um...I have to ask...I’m quite curious...this...relationship that you have with her,” she said as we watched Miss Joplin turn around yet again and pace the living room. “It looks different than, say, a normal dom and sub thing. If it’s consensual on her part, she is putting on an Oscar-worthy performance.”
I had to make a call on the spot as to how much to divulge to someone I barely knew. I elected to be transparent; there was something about Kindra—the glint in her eye, the way she watched—that told me I could trust her. More than that, I sensed a shared taste for humiliation. Maybe not quite as intense as mine, but close enough to recognize the thrill. And I had a strong hunch she wasn’t just enjoying the show—she was enjoying Miss Joplin.
“It’s not an act,” I said simply.
And feel free to say it’s none of my business, but... how did you get her into this... arrangement?”
She nodded slowly. “I figured. If you don’t mind me asking—and please tell me to shut up if it’s too intrusive, but...how did you get her into this...arrangement? You must really have something on her.”
“I don’t mind telling you," I said, "but let’s keep this between us."
Kindra leaned in slightly. "Of course."
"I was in a drugstore and witnessed her stuffing her purse with a fair amount of merchandise. She was—and still is—my English teacher at Roosevelt High School. She had never been very nice to me, so I pulled out my phone and recorded her in the act. I sent her the video and threatened to turn the footage over to the police if she didn’t comply with my demands. That was step one. Pretty soon, I had her sending me risqué selfies. As you can see, now I have her under my control.”
Kindra stared at me, wide-eyed with amazement. “My goodness!,” she said. “That’s quite a story. And honestly? Kind of exciting.” She paused for a moment. “I must tell you, I’m a little jealous,” she said with a chuckle. "And her? Submitting like this to a young teenager? Her humiliation must be off the charts.”
“Oh, it’s intense,” I said, grinning broadly. “And delicious.”
Kindra returned the grin, then looked back at the monitor, where Miss Joplin was marching across the room for the umpteenth time.
“That’s quite a find you made there,” she said. “And you’ve built something...delightfully twisted. Well done.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
In that moment, the thought first occurred to me: I would find a reason to see Kindra again—and when I did, Miss Joplin would absolutely be on the itinerary.
* * * * * *
The next few hours passed with efficiency. Kindra and Ricky installed cameras and speakers in every room. It was a somewhat mundane atmosphere—well, I use the word “mundane” in the relative sense, since a woman that was scantily clad against her will was there at every turn—but compared to earlier, things were relatively quiet.
That changed mid-afternoon, thanks in large part to Kindra’s young assistant.
We were having a late lunch on the back patio, enjoying the mild weather. I had Miss Joplin serve us sandwiches and lemonade.
And then it happened.
Our conversation had momentarily stalled. Ricky, who hadn’t said much of anything to that point, broke the silence.
“Um...” He looked at me, then dropped his gaze back to his sandwich. “Did you...? Oh, never mind.”
It was obvious he was trying to build up the courage to say something, so I tried to help him along. “It’s okay, Ricky,” I prompted. “What’s on your mind?”
He hesitated, then forged ahead. “Well, I, um...you know how you said earlier how you might...how you would be able to make her (he stole a quick glance at Miss Joplin)...make her show you...show her breasts whenever you want her to?” His cheeks had taken on a healthy shade of pink.
“Yes, I remember saying that,” I said. I was about to expound on that, but I had an idea where he was going, and I wanted him to continue. Plus, his embarrassment was rather adorable.
(As an aside, I did fantasize at the time how fun it would be to strip and humiliate the boy. Hey, what can I say, I can’t help myself. But that wasn’t going to happen.)
“Is there any way...uh...uh...”
I knew for sure where he was going now. I had the feeling he figured out that he would only be there for another hour or so, and that the opportunity presented itself to experience what would probably be his first live sighting of a woman’s breasts—an opportunity that may not present itself again for a very long time. So, he was resolute in getting out his request, as difficult as it would be for him.
“Is there any way she could do that...I mean, that you could make her do that...today?”
His Aunt Kindra could no longer suppress her laughter, and I couldn’t help but join in.
Poor Ricky’s blush deepened from pink to a spectacular red, while the horrified Miss Joplin was fidgeting nervously in her seat. She’d crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her legs tucked in, posture rigid.
“Would you listen to him?” Kindra teased, still grinning. "The good, innocent Catholic boy with the naughty fantasies.”
She giggled again and looked at me. “A normal teenage boy with normal teenage hormones.”
The ball was in my court. It was too good of a shot to pass up.
“What do you think, Kindra?” I asked. “Ricky’s been working hard, and it might be a nice way to reward him.”
She grinned wickedly. “He turns fourteen tomorrow. We could call it an early birthday present.”
Her gaze drifted over to Miss Joplin, who now looked borderline petrified. “Besides, it might be a welcome change of pace. I think it might be entertaining for
all of us.”
“Alrighty, then! It’s settled!” I said, clapping my hands together. “Ricky gets his wish, and we’ll all be entertained.”
All eyes turned to Miss Joplin. I said nothing. I simply waited to see what she would do.
At first, she sat frozen, looking very nervous. Then, finally, her lips parted—and she began to plead.
“Please, Felicity, I...I just...I just can’t...I can't
do that.”
By now, the reader likely knows me well enough to realize that wouldn't fly.
"Oh, but I think you
can, Marian," I said sweetly. “Look on the bright side—at least I’m not making you strip completely
naked. All you need to do is lower your leotard to your waist. Then Ricky will get his birthday wish. Your breasts will be exposed, and he can get an eyeful.”
I turned toward Kindra. “I think Kindra would like to see them, too. Kindra, would you like Miss Joplin to lower her leotard so you can see her breasts?”
Kindra smiled at Miss Joplin, unabashed. “Yes, that would be delightful.”
“I think so, too,” I said, nodding. “It’s unanimous, Marian. We all agree—it’s time to put your breasts on display.”
The room fell quiet, thick with anticipation. Miss Joplin was breathing heavily, her arms still folded tight, her entire body tense. It seemed like we were at a standstill, and I wasn’t in the mood to wait it out.
“Alright, Marian,” I said firmly. “It’s now or never. As you know, I have a nice picture of your breasts on my phone from the time I had you send me a topless selfie. I’m happy to just show Ricky and Kindra the picture instead of the real thing. But if I have to do that, I’ll also be sending the picture out to a few of your contacts. So it's your choice. And keep in mind, I’m already going to have to punish you for defying me.”
I unlocked my phone and casually pretended to scroll, as if retrieving the photo. I didn't need to—just the implication was enough.
“No! Okay! I’ll do it!” she blurted, just as I knew she would.
“Good girl. Now lower your leotard. All the way below your belly button. And listen carefully—you are not to cover up. Your arms will rest on the armrests, and they’ll stay there. Understood?”
She nodded, lips trembling. Then, with a deep breath, she reached for one sleeve and pulled her arm free. I glanced at Ricky—his jaw was practically on the floor. The boy looked like he’d just won the lottery.
Kindra’s expression was equally priceless, a delicious mix of amusement and anticipation.
Miss Joplin slipped her other arm out, then peeled the leotard down her waist and pushed it to her hips. Her face was crimson, her expression utterly mortified—but she did as she was told, placing her hands on the armrests and leaving them there.
I didn’t take a picture that day, but here is the picture I had on my phone that I threatened her with. It’s the same picture that you probably remember seeing in an earlier chapter. I thought I’d submit it again, so you could visualize what we were all staring at.
“You have lovely breasts," said Kindra warmly. “Thank you for sharing.”
She turned to her nephew, who was openly leering, mouth agape and eyes wide with wonder.
“What do you think, Ricky?”
“Wow!” was all he could muster.
Kindra and I burst into laughter. Miss Joplin’s face somehow turned an even deeper shade of red.
“Can you wish Ricky a happy birthday, Marian?” I prompted.
“Happy Birthday, Ricky,” she said with utmost reluctance
Ricky was too dumbfounded to respond. He just kept staring with a goofy, dazed grin.
“Well, thank you for the afternoon delight,” Kindra said, rising to her feet. “Come along, Ricky—we’ve still got the kitchen install to handle.”
Ricky got up slowly, clearly reluctant to leave, his gaze still locked on the half-naked Miss Joplin.
Assuming the show was over, Miss Joplin reached for her leotard.
“Uh-uh. You’re to leave that leotard just like it is,” I told her, much to Ricky’s and Kindra’s delight. "I told you there’d be a punishment, remember? For the rest of the day, you’ll remain just like this. No covering up. Hands at your sides, so we can all check out your breasts as we please.”
“Oh, gosh,” she whispered miserably.
Still topless, she rose from her chair and followed us into the kitchen—Ricky stealing glances the whole way, Kindra smiling to herself, and me thoroughly pleased.
The session had taken a delightful turn.
This story just continues to give.
, and I'll probably have to break up the camera installation scene into yet another part. If so, the third part will definitely be the last.