Over Her Head

Chapter One-2

Melanie’s heart beat a little more quickly as she opened the fourth and final message. She and “mr_jack” had started chatting about three months earlier. His real name was Jonathan and he had found her through one of her blog posts. The blog had been about the difficulties she had properly describing her nature to people in the bondage community. She did not consider herself a submissive. Sure, she loved bondage. The very thought of being tied up had moved her powerfully for as long as she could remember. But, to her, the excitement of bondage did not come from giving herself over willingly to those ropes and chains. She wanted to be taken. She wanted to struggle against the hold of her restraints. In her deepest and darkest fantasies, she wanted to cry and plead for mercy, only to have her pleading fall on deaf ears.

It had been, by far, her most popular blog update. The responses left by viewers had been many and varied. A few women identified with her, echoing her thoughts. Some others told her that she had deep psychological problems and needed help. The majority had been from dominant men, telling her that she truly was a submissive and that she only needed the right dominant man to unlock that side of her. Some of those had left phone numbers.

And there, buried among the responses, had been Jonathan’s. She had almost missed it, surrounded as it was by the other, more common, comments. He had shown an understanding of her desires that she had not often found online. He had not called her a submissive, had not had a label for her at all in fact. You thrill to the thought of being hunted, his post had told her. Your desire does not stem from the act of submitting, but rather from the knowledge that you have no control over your fate. Your post tells that you long to be afraid. In your fear, you find the release of self. Melanie had read his words countless times since then. Online chat sessions had begun shortly after that, like the one she was looking forward to having with him tonight. She clicked open his message.

mr_jack: Good evening, pet. It is always such a pleasure to log on and find you here. At the risk of making your head swell, you really are unique among those that I have found in this virtual world. Let me know if you have some time to chat.

Melanie’s grin broadened as she read Jonathan’s words on the screen, washing away her earlier disappointment with ‘masterofall’ and ‘metrophillydom.’ She knew she was different. She knew she was unique. But it was still nice to hear that someone appreciated those things about her. Too often, the things that defined her differences from others proved to be hindrances more than benefits. Not with Jonathan, though. She quickly typed a response.

melanie_sought: Awww… how sweet of you to think so. And, yes, I would love to chat. What did you have in mind for tonight? I am at work, though, so we can’t get too crazy.

Every session with him was different. Usually, they roleplayed scenes together. Sometimes, though, they shared discussions of her likes and dislikes or talked about things that were entirely unrelated to bondage and fantasy. It had not taken long for her to reveal more about herself to him than she had to any of her other online friends. When they had begun roleplaying, she had asked him who he wanted her to play. It was a common question in her world. She did not mind helping her play partners live out their own personal fantasies by taking on the roles that they most desired. In fact, it added to the excitement for her.

Some would ask her to play famous actresses and mock celebrities. Hayden Panettiere seemed to be the most common choice these days. Melanie often wondered what it was about that girl that made so many people want to kidnap her. At other times, she would be asked to play a real person from her partner’s life; whether a former girlfriend or High School crush, it was always someone who had scorned her partner in some fashion.

mr_jack: Another late night in the cubicles, just as the weekly schedule foretold. Tell me what you are wearing. That will make it easier to find you in the parking lot.

In the scenes they played together, Jonathan had always asked her to be herself. All of their stories had involved aspects of her real world. She had revealed countless details about her day-to-day life to him. He knew where she went to school and had a copy of her schedule of classes. He knew the hours she worked and the location of the towering office building where she toiled. She knew that it was potentially dangerous to share this information with him. When she was honest with herself, though, she recognized that the danger was part of the reason she shared the information.

melanie_sought: I am afraid that it’s nothing to get worked up about tonight. I’m dressed for comfort, not style. Just a green university t-shirt, grey baggy sweatpants, and my comfy Uggs. Sorry to disappoint.

“Melanie, can I talk to you for a moment?” Rick’s voice appeared behind her.

“Sure, what’s up?” she asked, turning in her chair as she minimized the messenger window with practiced ease. Rick might not care that they use the computers for personal purposes between calls, but she really wasn’t in the mood to share this with him or anyone.

“That last call you sent me,” he said as he entered her cubicle. He was an attractive guy, tall and slender with a runner’s body. Unlike the rest of her co-workers, he always dressed up a little bit. Today, he was wearing a light blue dress shirt and a pair of tan slacks.

“I wasn’t getting anywhere with him,” Melanie responded. “He just kept demanding that we release the garnishment. That’s why I sent it to you.”

“Well, yeah, and that’s fine,” he smiled, stepping in a little closer. “It’s just, well, you’ve been here for about a year now, right?”

“Just over, yeah,” she nodded.

“By this point, you really shouldn’t have to dump so many calls on me, should you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, it’s not like I have some magic power or something to get them off the phone. You just have to be more assertive with them.”

“I told him that I couldn’t release it,” she furrowed her brow.

“I know,” he sighed. “But it all comes down to how you say it. The tone of your voice says more than the words that come out of your mouth. I listened to the recording of the call. You weren’t forceful enough. I could tell that you didn’t mean it when you said it.”

“I’ll try harder,” she answered.

“That’s it,” he nodded. He reached down to place a hand on her shoulder as she looked up at him. “When upper management reviews the exception reports, one of the things they’re looking for is how much supervisor support you take up. To be frank, you’re the highest on the floor. You don’t want their eyes on you.”

“No, I guess not,” she answered. She felt his hand squeeze her shoulder.

“I go to bat for you, though,” he said with a smile. “You may not have the highest collection numbers, but I like having you around.”

“Thanks, Rick,” she matched his smile. She might not like the job or the way that Rick looked at her, but she needed the money. “I’ll watch out for that.”

“Good girl,” he said condescendingly as he released her shoulder before turning to leave her cubicle.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he said, stopping to look back from the edge of her workspace. “A few of us are going to stop for a few at the Shillelagh after work tonight. Care to join us?”

“No, not tonight,” she answered quickly, offering him an insincere frown. “I have class early tomorrow. I’m not going to get enough sleep as it is.”

“I gotcha,” he winked. “Let’s plan for Friday night, then. That way you can dress up a bit, too.”

“Oh, maybe, I don’t know,” she quickly stammered.

“Mel, how can you expect me to go to bat for someone who won’t even share a drink with the crew?” he chuckled. “Make it work.”

Melanie sighed as he left without another word. It was really turning out to be a great night out here in the real world, she thought sarcastically. Fortunately, she had another world that promised to be better. She clicked open the messenger window again.

mr_jack: By now, I would hope that you realize I don’t care what you’re wearing. If I don’t like it, the option is always mine to simply change it. I simply ask as a matter of job professionalism. We kidnappers have to be thorough. Imagine the embarrassment if we were to take the wrong girl. On that same note, how are you wearing your hair tonight?

mr_jack: I assume, by your delay, that the demands of the real world are intruding. In the mean time, then, I will tell you what I have in mind for tonight. I am feeling in the mood to start up a new scene. Tell me your thoughts on religious zealotry. It’s an angle that we haven’t approached before and a personal favorite of mine. Any interest in encountering the modern-day Spanish Inquisition?

Melanie almost melted through her chair as she read his words, the tension of the meeting with her supervisor quickly evaporating. Images of heavy iron shackles and brutal whippings instantly replaced thoughts of drinks at the Shillelagh.

melanie_sought: My hair is up today in a ponytail. As I mentioned, today I’m built for comfort.

melanie_sought: As for the Spanish Inquisition, I am 100% on board. I absolutely adore the concept.

mr_jack: Before we begin, tell me what it is most that intrigues you about it.

She thought for a moment before answering. In the forefront of her mind was the strength of the restraints. All of the images that she had ever seen of bondage from those days looked so powerful and wicked. Heavy iron shackles were so much more intimidating than slender, modern handcuffs. Losing herself for a moment in that thought, she imagined the feel of the firm metal on her slender ankles and wrists, digging into her flesh and weighing them down. She almost began to type those thoughts. But there was more to it, she realized. Chewing her lip thoughtfully, she typed her answer.

melanie_sought: While I love the physical bondage implements of the theme, there’s actually more to it than that. I love the feeling of hopelessness that’s involved. I’m imagining being accused of heresy or witchcraft. Even though I’m not guilty, there’s no way to prove my innocence. I’m going to be tortured mercilessly. To my Inquisitors, the only possible proof of my innocence would be surviving the torture through the grace of God. So there is no real hope. It just becomes a matter of how long before I break down and confess.

The phone chirped in Melanie’s ear again, alerting her that the dialer had found yet another potential candidate to cough up money on a debt they had likely forgotten they owed. She hoped that this one would be more amenable to a payment arrangement than the last two. She typed a quick message to Jonathan to let him know she had to take a call and then brought up the collection screen.

The call seemed to drag on forever. As usual, the woman who answered started out aggravated. But she made some headway on this one. Aggravation eventually gave way to petulance, which was quickly followed by exasperation. An eternity later, the woman had agreed to make small monthly payments. A quick calculation told Melanie that it would take approximately eighteen years to pay off the loan that way. She finally hung up the phone after inputting the woman’s checking account information. She wondered how long those automatic withdrawals would last before the woman cancelled the arrangement. They always did. She notated the account and then brought up the conversation window.

mr_jack: While you are gone, I will take this opportunity to describe what I am thinking for the scene. You are yourself, of course. We will begin with you out at a bar. You’re there with some friends, and please let me know if this is something that could realistically happen.

mr_jack: You drink a little more than you usually do (or less, if you’re the type that usually drinks yourself into a coma). Your inhibitions lower. At some point during the night, you are acting a little loose in the bar. I’ll leave the specifics to you, but the idea is that you will attract the attention of a very conservative man who views your actions as an affront to his religion.