Chapter 12: Cameras, Cameras Everywhere, Part 3
Despite the thoroughly entertaining distraction of the reluctantly half-naked woman moving through their midst, Kindra and Ricky still managed to finish installing the last of the cameras and speakers. But midway through, there was another interesting development. And once again, it had everything to do with the soon-to-be fourteen-year-old boy.
Probably feeling emboldened by his earlier birthday wish coming true, Ricky had another request. He proposed it to his aunt, but spoke loudly enough for us all to hear.
“Aunt Kindra, it’s Hudson’s birthday today. Do you think it would be okay if I invited him to come over so he could see... see her breasts?”
Kindra chuckled, looking at me. “Hudson and Ricky have been inseparable since they were kids. Another fine Catholic boy.”
I glanced at Miss Joplin, who was demonstrably shaking her head at the proposal. “Sure, why not?” I said. “No harm in that. Just make sure he knows not to take any pictures.”
“Oh, no problem. Awesome!” Ricky responded, already calling his friend. “He lives just a few blocks away. He can hop on his bike and be here in no time.”
Within minutes, there was an eager and breathless teenage boy standing next to Ricky, staring shamelessly at the chest of the topless woman in the room.
“Hi Hudson,” I greeted. “This is Miss Joplin. She’s been disobedient, so she’s being punished for her behavior. She has to keep her breasts on display for the rest of the day.”
“Cool!” replied the bug-eyed Hudson, inducing another laugh from Kindra and me.
“Can you wish Hudson a happy birthday, Marian?” I suggested.
Miss Joplin winced, her skin flushing a deep, humiliated red. “Happy Birthday, Hudson,” she whispered.
“Thanks,” Hudson replied, his eyes never leaving her breasts. “This is the best birthday ever!”
“She’s made a couple of birthday boys very happy today,” declared Kindra.
“Indeed she has,” I agreed, smiling at the blushing Miss Joplin.
* * * * *
A few minutes later, Kindra was packing her bag. Her work was nearly done, but there was one final test to run. “Once we test the kitchen cameras, you should be all set,” she said. “Um... would it be okay with you if I take charge for this last test?”
“Certainly,” I said, intrigued by what she had in mind.
Take charge she did, and it was delicious. “Okay, let’s see, boys, I can use your help here for a minute,” she announced, her voice commanding. She gestured to the kitchen island, which had a few items scattered on it. “I need you to clear everything off this countertop. Make sure it’s completely empty. You can put everything by the sink.” The boys had the island cleared in a matter of moments. “Good. Now both of you stand in the doorway. You’ll have the best view there.”
She turned to Miss Joplin, whose expression was a combination of puzzlement and anxiety. “Ma'am, I need you up here,” she said, patting the island countertop. “You’d best take those heels off. We don’t want any accidents.”
Knowing it would be fruitless to protest, Miss Joplin slipped off her stilettos and climbed onto the three-foot-high island. She stood there, exposed and trembling, under the watchful eyes of us all.
“Stand up straight,” Kindra instructed. “And face the boys.” She turned to the grinning teenagers. “Perfect. Felicity and I will be watching from the next room. You’ll be the only one in camera range, so you’ll trigger the motion sensors. Stay perfectly still until I say otherwise. Understood?”
Miss Joplin nodded her head sullenly.
“I’d like a verbal response.”
“Yes,” Miss Joplin whispered. “I understand.”
“Good. Now, like I said, no movement until it’s time. If the system works—and I’m confident it will—the first thing you’ll hear is music. When the music begins, I’d like you to start dancing.”
The energy in the room, already charged, spiked instantly. The two boys looked at each other, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, then Hudson took Ricky by the shoulders and shook him exuberantly in his excitement. I was pretty fired up myself, knowing Miss Joplin’s humiliation was about to reach a whole new level.
Miss Joplin looked stunned. Whatever she had expected, it wasn’t this. “What? No!” she gasped, her voice cracking. “I mean, please, I don’t have to—just tell me when to move and then… the cameras can go on,” she pleaded, her desperation showing.
“Well, sure, that would work,” Kindra mused, pausing just long enough for a flicker of hope to cross Miss Joplin’s face. “But it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun,” she added, her eyes twinkling. Miss Joplin opened her mouth to protest, but Kindra went on. “Besides, it'll be a special birthday treat for the boys.”
The look on Miss Joplin’s face was pure dread. She shivered, arms twitching with the urge to cover herself. “You can’t mean this,” she said. “I—I can’t dance. Not like this.”
“It doesn’t have to be good,” Kindra said cheerfully. “Just... enthusiastic.”
“Oh, my God,” Miss Joplin whispered softly to herself, the reality of her predicament sinking in. “Wait, can I... can I at least pull this up?” she begged, fingers clutching at her leotard, voice trembling with hope.
“Well, that’s not up to me,” said Kindra. She turned to me, and I simply shook my head. “Sorry, it doesn’t look like that’s allowed. Breasts out while you dance.”
Miss Joplin let out a strangled gasp, thick with disbelief and rising panic. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold it together as the weight of what was coming fully registered.
Kindra and I retreated to the dining room, taking up positions so we had a perfect view through the doorway. Miss Joplin stood, rigid as a statue atop her granite stage, every muscle in her body tight. The two boys ogled her openly, their eyes wide with anticipation. It had to be excruciating for her—but not nearly as excruciating as it would be in just a few moments.
“That was quite an idea you had,” I said to Kindra as she fiddled with the laptop, linking the camera and speaker.
“I had a feeling you might like that,” she replied with a mischievous grin. “I mean, sure, I could’ve just told her to take a walk across the room.” Her eyes sparkled with wicked amusement. “But this is going to be so much better. There’s something delicious about making someone dance when they’d probably rather die. Honestly, I find it incredibly stimulating.” She paused, then laughed softly. "And making her dance topless? Oh, be still, my heart. Just look at her. She’s already on the verge of collapsing from humiliation, and the music hasn’t even started yet."
We locked eyes and smiled knowingly. Though it was unspoken, there was an understanding between us now: We both found something deeply satisfying in the art of humiliation.
The excitement was palpable as Kindra queued up her musical choice. I could barely hold in my excitement. “Can this be recorded?” I asked, eager to relive the moment later.
She grinned. “Oh, definitely,” she said, making a couple of keystrokes.
Kindra picked up the mic and spoke with authority: “Now remember—stand perfectly still until the music starts. Then I want you to dance for us. Got it? Here we go... show time.”
A moment later, the pulsing beat of Rihanna’s
S&M thumped from the kitchen speaker. In case you’re not familiar with it, here's a little snippet:
S&M
The camera didn’t engage, but that was because the lady standing on the kitchen island remained frozen in her tracks, her expression a mixture of terror and shame.
Kindra’s voice cut through the speaker. “The camera didn’t activate, Marian,” she said, using her name for the first time. “You need to dance.”
“I... I don’t think I can
do this. Please!” she begged," her voice trembling with humiliation.
“Of
course you can, dear. Just pretend no one's watching. Lose yourself in the rhythm,” Kindra coaxed. “I’m going to start the song over. You need to start dancing.”
The music restarted. Again, nothing.
Kindra paused the track, voice firmer now. “Talk to me, Marian. Why aren’t you dancing?”
“Please, I just... I can’t. It’s too much," she whimpered. “Standing here like... like this... in front of... please, just let me step down and walk. Please?"
I relished every second. Just the
thought of dancing for us—
topless, no less—was already more than she could bear. And that only made the idea of her actually
doing it all the more delicious. I had no doubt she would dance, eventually. After all, I owned her now. There was very little I couldn’t make her do. Also, Kindra was every bit as driven to see her dance as I was, and she wasn’t backing down. Poor Miss Joplin didn't stand a chance.
“We’ve been over this, Marian,” Kindra said, her voice calm but commanding. “We want to see you dance.”
“Oh, God,” Miss Joplin groaned, barely audible, her humiliation mounting. She squeezed her eyes shut for a long beat. When she opened them again, they were welled with tears. “You don’t understand,” she said hoarsely. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”
Kindra’s smile didn’t fade. “You’ll be fine. The hardest part is starting. Once you move, it gets easier. Trust me.” She tapped a key and the music rolled out again.
♬
Na- na- na, come on ♬
Still nothing.
♬
Na- na- na, come on ♬
There was a tiny twitch of her knees, probably involuntary.
♬
Na- na- na,-na,-na, come on ♬
♬
Na- na- na, come on, come on, come on ♬
At last, Miss Joplin moved, but her limbs were stiff and awkward. She glanced at the boys, then turned away again, mortified. Her cheeks were an impossible shade of red.
♬ ‘Cause I may be bad but I’m perfectly good at it ♬
Miss Joplin swayed her hips ever so slightly, her movements hesitant and clumsy.
♬
Feels so good being bad (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh) ♬
♬
There's no way I'm turning back (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh) ♬
She shuffled her feet, the movements jerky and forced, looking more like a malfunctioning robot than a dancer. Kindra’s voice joined in with the music, encouraging her.
“Come on, sweetie. That’s a start. But you can do better than that. Dance!”
♬
Now the pain is for pleasure, ♬
♬
'Cause nothing can measure (oh, oh, ohh) ♬
Miss Joplin managed a few more spasmodic steps, her eyes imploring us for mercy. Kindra paused the track.
“This isn’t working, Marian. You didn’t even set off the motion detector,” she said, smiling slyly at me. We both knew it wasn’t true.
“Please, I... I can’t do this!” Miss Joplin whimpered, voice cracking again with shame.
“I know, sweetheart,” Kindra said, trying to sound sympathetic, though her voice betrayed her amusement. “I understand how deeply, deeply humiliating this is. I really do. But try to think of the boys. Try to give them a birthday to remember.”
Miss Joplin’s hands shook where they hung at her sides. She stood there, shoulders hunched, fighting the overwhelming urge to cover herself. Her breaths were shallow, her body rigid.
Kindra leaned in toward the mic, smiling. “Felicity says that if you don’t start dancing like you mean it, she’ll have no choice but to take possession of your leotard.” She let the words hang, enjoying the terror in Miss Joplin's eyes. “Actually, I think it would be incredibly entertaining to watch you dance naked for us. Would you like that, Marian? Do you want to dance naked for us?”
Miss Joplin’s face drained of color. “Oh, God! No!”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Kindra replied, still smiling. “Alright, sweetie, let’s do this.” Her tone was firm now, almost patronizing. “I’ll start the song where it left off. It’s a fast tempo. Just move with it. You’ll be done before you know it.”
Miss Joplin’s eyes darted anxiously toward the others. The birthday boys were staring at her, grinning, their gazes hungry and eager. I felt a deep, electric thrill—her discomfort was my entertainment. I could practically
feel her humiliation pouring off her.
The music resumed.
♬
Love is great, love is fine (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh) ♬
♬
Out the box, out of line (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh) ♬
♬
The affliction of the feeling leaves me wanting more (oh, oh, ohh) ♬
The threat did the trick. Somewhere deep down, Miss Joplin summoned up enough courage to force herself to move, slowly and begrudgingly. It was awkward and mechanical, but it was undeniably a dance.
“Good, Marian!” Kindra called out, her voice sing-song and merciless. “But you need to loosen up. Shake those hips, sweetie. I want to see those lovely breasts really jiggle.”
♬
'Cause I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it ♬
♬
Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it ♬
♬
Sticks and stones may break my bones ♬
♬
But chains and whips excite me ♬
Indeed, bit by bit, her body gave in to the rhythm. Her hips started a slow, reluctant sway, moving in spite of her shame. She was dancing. And yes, her breasts were jiggling, conspicuous and unavoidable.
“Good girl, Marian! The boys are loving it!” Kindra cheered. “Now—hands behind your head. Keep the bunny ears on. Elbows forward. Point those pretty nipples right at the birthday boys. You’ve got it, Marian. You look delicious!”
The boys were spellbound—eyes wide, mouths open, hypnotized by the reluctant show unfolding before them. Every shift of her body, every mortified glance toward them only added to their delight.
I was getting turned on. It wasn’t just exposure anymore. It was a display—a forced performance under duress, and that made it all the more arousing.
Her breasts bounced with every awkward twist of her body—and the best part was knowing that
she knew it. She was dancing for us, naked from the waist up, burning with humiliation, and I was devouring every movement. I couldn’t touch myself then—not with company around—but the need was fierce. At least I knew the video would still be there when I got home. And I planned to savor every second.
“Turn your back to the boys, now, Marian. Shake that nice booty for them.”
Oh, Kindra!
Miss Joplin hesitated. “Now,” Kindra said, her voice firmer, leaving no room for refusal.
♬
Oh, you turn me on ♬
♬
It's exactly what I've been yearning for ♬
♬
Give it to me strong ♬
Her heart pounded in her chest, but Miss Joplin obeyed, slowly and reluctantly. She turned one step at a time and began to sway her hips, her humiliation deepening with every shake. She knew exactly what the boys were seeing—and exactly what we were making her do.
“You’re doing great,” Kindra praised. "Now turn back around and face the boys. Let’s finish strong, and you’ll be done.”
♬
S, S, S and M, M, M ♬
♬
S, S, S and M, M, M ♬
Miss Joplin turned slowly, cheeks burning crimson, her body trembling with humiliation. Her movements picked up speed, more frantic and desperate, just trying to make it end. The boys stared, thunderstruck, as she danced herself raw in front of all of us.
Finally, mercifully, the music faded. Miss Joplin collapsed to her knees, a faint sob slipping out as she folded her arms across her chest, bowing her head in abject humiliation.
* * * * *
A few minutes later, Kindra and I lingered by the open door as the boys left, still giggling and nudging each other like they’d just come from the best day of their lives.
“They had quite a day,” Kindra said with a satisfied smile. "As did I."
“Yes, I think we
all did,” I replied.
I glanced back through the doorway. Miss Joplin was still on the kitchen island where we’d left her—kneeling, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
“Especially Miss Joplin," I added.
Kindra followed my gaze, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she smiled. “She’ll remember this day forever.”
She reached into her bag and handed me her business card, a knowing glint in her eye. “If you ever need help with anything... anything at all,” she said, her eyes shifting one last time toward the broken woman in the kitchen. “I’d be more than happy to assist.”
I took the card, already imagining the possibilities. I extended my hand, and she took it. No words were necessary. We both knew we would meet again.
* * * * *
Later that evening, I opened my laptop and logged into the surveillance app. The split-screen view of the house appeared instantly. And there was Miss Joplin, sitting on a chair, sipping a cup of tea at the kitchen island—that very island where, just hours earlier, she had so unwillingly entertained us.
I noted with satisfaction that she was still wearing the leotard, just as I’d instructed—pushed down to her hips, leaving her exposed above the waist. Before I left, I had made it clear that she was to remain that way until bedtime, at which point she could change into the little nightgown I’d laid out for her. I also told her the stilettos were optional, and the bunny ears entirely up to her. Needless to say, she’d chosen neither.
I closed the laptop and pulled out my phone to send her a text.
Good evening, Miss Joplin.
Good evening.
How was your day?
I laughed out loud at the absurdity of the question.
I think you know the answer to that.
Well, you made the boys extremely happy. They had a day they’ll never forget.
I’m sure you are right about that.
What did it feel like up there, dancing topless while we watched your tits bouncing around?
I did not like it.
Could you feel your tits bouncing around?
Yes.
Full sentence, please.
Yes, I could feel my breasts bouncing up and down.
I’m really looking forward to watching the video.
There was a pause. I don’t think she was aware that her performance was captured on video.
I’m sure you are looking forward to that.
Maybe we can watch it together sometime. I can come over, and we can project it onto your big screen TV. We can sit together on your couch and relive the moment.
I would rather not do that, if you don’t mind.
Okay. Alternatively, we can invite Kindra and the boys over and have a watch party. You can serve popcorn.
Please, let’s not do that. I would rather not see any of them again.
Kindra really had fun with you today.
I did not have fun.
She really enjoyed making you dance. You should have seen the grin on her face when you were up there shaking your booty.
There was a long pause, as I'm sure Miss Joplin didn't quite know how to respond to that.
I did not like it.
I could tell. But Kindra and I, and of course the boys were very entertained, thanks to you.
Okay. Can we stop now?
And when I say Kindra had a grin on her face while you were dancing for her, it wasn’t just entertainment. There was something more. She had a look in her eye. Like sexual. I think she really likes you.
I don’t know what to say about that.
Do you like her?
Not really.
No, I don’t really like her.
Well, maybe she’ll be able to change your mind next time you see her.
There was a long pause while Miss Joplin pondered the ramifications of another encounter with Kindra.
I would prefer not to see her again. Please.
We’ll see. She really enjoyed your company today, and like I say, she seems quite fond of you. Maybe there’s something there between you two. Something romantic. It would be a shame not to explore that potential.
No, I can tell you there is nothing there. And I think I told you before, I am heterosexual.
That may be true. But I’ve read that all of us have at least a sliver of attraction to our own gender. A hidden curiosity. Maybe Kindra can help you explore that part of yourself.
Please, Felicity, I am not interested in that. At all.
I know, but I might be interested in seeing it. So keep an open mind.
I already know. Please, I am not interested.
I could tell she was thriving in the control she had over you. When she made you dance, she wasn't just testing the cameras. She was owning you. She would definitely be the dominant one in your relationship.
No, thank you. Please stop.
And you would obviously be the submissive one. You play the sub so well, almost like you were born for it. Kindra would really appreciate a pet like you. Maybe you two were meant for each other.
Please, may I go now? These texting sessions often make me feel ill.
Okay, maybe you should go lie down. Feel free to change into that sexy nightie whenever you want.
Okay, I will go lie down.
Did you forget to say something to me when I left your house today?
There was a pause, then she figured out what I was referring to.
Thank you for humiliating me, Felicity.
As always, Marian, it was my pleasure. And thank YOU!
I clicked out of the text app and opened my laptop. I scanned the video footage from the afternoon until a woman standing on her kitchen island came into view. She was topless, and she seemed under duress. The voice of the artist Rihanna began to flow from my laptop’s speaker.
♬
Na- na- na, come on ♬
It was music to my ears, in more ways than one. I paused the video and set the laptop on my bed. Moments later I was lying next to it, unfastening my jeans. My destiny with sexual delight was on the horizon.
