Cell Phone Slave

By Shon Richards

Amaya is a lonely college student who receives a mysterious package in the mail. The package contains a cell phone along with a small amount of cash. To earn more cash, Amaya must obey the instructions of the mysterious Wesley, a man who only communicates through the cell phone he has given her. Will she participate in his increasingly perverse games? Will she quit or will she submit to becoming his cell phone slave?

This story contains scenes of exhibitionism, bondage, masturbation, dominance and submission and as well M/F sex.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shon Richards
• Release date: Sep 22, 2021

Shon Richards

Shon Richards has been publishing erotica on the internet in one form or another since 1996. His works range from vanilla hookups to sensual pulp adventures to science fiction to magical delights to straight forward BDSM encounters. Really, he should pick something and stick with it for brand identity reasons but after 20 years of writing erotica, it is too late now.

Book preview

Cell Phone Slave

By

Shon Richards

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, and persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

This book also contains scenes of unsafe, graphic and explicit sex in a fantasy context. Some scenes deal with topics that may be uncomfortable or unacceptable in some cultures.

Copyright © 2010 Shon Richards

Shonrichards.com

Cover photo @ inside-studio

For every submissive who wanted a dark rescuer, and for every dominant who wanted their way.

Chapter One

Amaya saw the package in her mailbox and fought to rein in her hopes. More than likely it was for her roommate, Helen. She pulled the package out of their tiny dorm mailbox and looked at the address. It was for her! Amaya searched the package for a return address but there wasn’t one. The young college student checked the mailbox for any other mail, especially for her financial aid check that was a month late. There wasn’t any.

She didn’t open the package in the lobby although she was tempted. Amaya liked surprises and after a harsh three weeks of college, she was going to savor this one. When she was a little girl all she wanted for her eighth birthday was the Barbie Dream House. A month before her birthday Amaya was looking through her mother’s closet for a pair of heels to play with. Barely hidden under a coat was the Barbie Dream House. Amaya was excited at first and she never told her mom that she knew what she was getting for her birthday but as the days dragged on, she found herself a little bored with her upcoming birthday. Knowing what she was getting had taken the fun out of the discovery and it was something she had never forgotten. The package could wait till she was in her room.

Amaya climbed the stairs of the co-ed dorm to her room. Her stomach growled. It did that every day now. Amaya’s parents were firm believers in letting their oldest daughter provide for herself. Her father was a marine and her mother was a Japanese native who never attended any sort of higher education. Both parents just assumed that a scholarship would pay for everything and that if Amaya needed anything else, she could get a job. They didn’t care that her financial aid was caught in some sort of bureaucratic limbo that none of the financial aid office people could explain. Neither parent could also understand that in a college town, the only job really available to a girl just out of high school was that of a waitress and even then, no one was willing to hire a half-Japanese girl with glasses when they could have a busty blonde co-ed. Her small amount of cash had evaporated quickly after buying her books and paying her lab fees. For the past two weeks she had been reduced to eating crackers and peanut butter for breakfast and dinner. Amaya’s parents kept telling her to buck up as if those magic words could solve anything.

Maybe the package was from her parents. Amaya wondered if they had finally taken pity on her and sent her a box of food or something. It would be just like them to send her food instead of money. The dorm room she had didn’t have a stove or even a microwave so Amaya worried that they might have sent her something she couldn’t even use. The package was kind of small, so Amaya was hopeful that it couldn’t contain food. Perhaps her parents had sent her money in a box because they didn’t trust stuffing envelopes with money?

Or maybe the package was from her boyfriend, John. Amaya bit her lip as she thought of him. He was her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first sexual partner and lately her first heartbreaking disappointment. Cuddling on the floor of his parent’s garage, John always swore he would look out for her. It must have been the sex talking because while she attended a college in state, he applied for one in Georgia. John swore they would meet again in the summer and Amaya tried to take his word for it. So far he had never written and called only once. She had written him last week asking, no, begging him to send her some money that she would pay back when she got her financial aid, but he had yet to respond. Maybe this package was his way of proving he still did care.

Helen wasn’t in their room, which delighted Amaya. She sat down on her bed and held the package in her lap. She made three wishes. One, she wished there was money inside. Two, she wished for something sweet to eat that didn’t involve peanut butter. Three, she wished it was from John. Amaya took a deep breath and opened her package.

The package was stuffed with a lot of filler paper but buried deep within was a cellular phone and an envelope. Amaya’s face broke into a grin. It had to be from John! He sent her a phone so she wouldn’t be so alone!

Amaya opened the envelope and squealed. There were five twenty-dollar bills! She could eat out tonight and buy some real groceries. The young woman was feeling giddy with delight. She checked the envelope for a letter and found a small piece of paper. All that was written was Press redial.

The purple cell phone was a top of the line model. It had a small display screen and a tiny keyboard. Amaya was amazed by how compact the phone was. It could fit easily in a pants pocket. As much as she wanted to believe that it was from John, she had to admit that he couldn’t afford a gift like this. It was also too expensive to be a gift from her parents.

Amaya smiled. This was exciting. She had a mystery gift with an equally mysterious instruction for her press redial. It was about time something interesting happened to her at school.

She pressed redial. It rang twice. Each ring made Amaya’s heart race. The tension was a nice distraction from her growling stomach.

Hello, Amaya a male voice said.

Amaya didn’t recognize it. Hello, who is this, please?

You can call me Wesley, the voice said. His voice was very relaxed with a trace of a southern accent. Congratulations on taking the first step. I’m sure that hundred dollars will come in handy. Where do you plan to eat first?

I’m sorry, Amaya said. But who are you? And why did you give me so much money?

He laughed. You think that is a lot of money? It is just a small bit of what you can earn. I am something of a gambler, Amaya. Someone in your financial aid department made me aware of the delays you have had and knew I could help. I’ve helped out students in the past with my little games and I am willing to help you.

This sounds like a proposition, Amaya said bluntly. She knew she should hang up now but she worried about the hundred dollars she had in her hand. Would she have to give it back? Could they make her give it back?

Oh don’t call it that, Wesley said. I don’t believe in prostitution or being a sugar-daddy. I like to gamble on human nature. I will request a series of dares and you may quit at any time. If you quit I will never contact you again. On the other hand, play my game, and the reward will increase by a hundred dollars with each dare.

Amaya swallowed hard. That was a lot of money. On the other hand, it felt a bit too surreal. She looked back down at the money and realized that it was real enough for her.

What kind of dares do you have in mind? Amaya asked. This was the important question. She had a bad feeling it might involve eating something gross or jumping off of buildings.

That’s the spirit, Wesley said. I’ve been reviewing your file and I think we’ll have quite a lot of fun together. I see that you used to be on the Tennis team in your junior year but you didn’t join your senior year. That’s a shame. Tennis players are not only fit but also quite quick on their feet. They make excellent players. Why did you not join your senior year?

Amaya tried to think of a lie. She was too embarrassed to tell him that she found sex with John to be ten times better than running around chasing a bouncing ball. Part of her wanted to tell him in hopes of shocking the mysterious voice but she refrained.

I just wanted more time for my social life, she said. Are these games going to be time-consuming? I do have a heavy class load this year.

Wesley chuckled. I noticed. No, the games won’t take long at all. At any time of the day or night, I will call you via this cell phone. If you don’t answer, then the game is over and you will never be contacted again. Once you answer, you are mine for an hour. I may give you a command or I might guide you through a series of commands. Fail to complete a task before the hour is up, or flat out right refuse, and the game is over. Play to my satisfaction, and you’ll receive another cash award. That’s the entire game right there. Any questions?

One question, Amaya said. Are any of these dares going to be illegal?

Never, Wesley said. I prefer to keep my players, not see them go to jail. Where is the fun in that?

Okay, Amaya said. She couldn’t believe she was agreeing but it seemed risk-free. She might as well give it a try. Are we playing now?

I like your attitude, Wesley said. I’m looking at my watch and I’m saying it does start right now. My first game is simple. Dump your backpack out. You’re going to need all the space you can. I want you to take all of your underwear out of your dresser, panties and bras, and stuff them into the bag.

Amaya laughed. You’re out of your mind.

Two hundred dollars say you don’t care, Wesley said.

What do you want with my underwear? And what am I going to wear?

That’s not my concern, Wesley said. I would hurry if I were you. There’s more to this game and time is a wasting.

Amaya thought about it. All the bras and panties she owned were kind of old anyway. There were two black panties that John had bought her that she was fond of but other than that, most of them were plain and white. She never could work up the nerve to buy sexy underwear while living with her parents. Amaya also felt amused that some wealthy guy would want them. It seemed perverse but also harmless.

She emptied her backpack and went to work stuffing it. She hated to get rid of her bras. Her generous bust would be a problem without a bra but with a total of three hundred dollars, she could buy herself a few to hold her over. Amaya debated holding on to the black panties because they were a gift but she put them in the bag too. The guilt of cheating was stronger than she would have thought. For some reason, she wanted to earn Wesley’s money fairly.

I’m all packed, she said.

Good, have your running shoes on?

Yes, Amaya said. Why?

Because you’ll need to get to the White dorm as fast as possible, Wesley said. Once you are there, hit speed dial ‘1’ and I’ll tell you where to go next. Hurry Amaya, I’d hate to see you lose so soon.

He hung up. Amaya’s heart sank. The White building was in the middle of the campus. It had been a year since she did a run of that length.

Amaya ran down the stairs and nearly knocked down two giggling blondes. One of them said something rude but Amaya ignored them. Her heart was already hammering inside her chest.

She ran out of the dorm and down the long hill that her dorm was situated on. Amaya’s glasses slipped down her nose and she kept pushing them up. It had been a long time since she was on the Tennis team. She didn’t know where her sports glasses were anymore. Amaya made a note to herself to find them soon. There was no telling how often Wesley would send her on a run.

The White building seemed like it was miles away. Amaya’s lungs burned and her brown hair was bouncing around her shoulders. She was glad she was wearing jeans today because she knew she would never run this fast or freely in a skirt. The backpack was light on her back but the contents weighed on her mind. Amaya kept envisioning the zipper coming undone and sending her underwear flying everywhere.

Amaya shouldered past people and nearly collided with a cute black guy. She gave a quick apology and kept running. Sweat was forming on her skin, forcing her to constantly push her glasses up which only helped blind her to the people she nearly ran over. The young lady had to laugh. She had spent the last few weeks feeling shy and trying not to stand out but here she was making a spectacle of herself for half the campus. She found it a bit freeing.

She reached the White building breathless. Amaya didn’t know if she was supposed to be outside or in the lobby so she brought out the phone out of her pocket.

He answered on the first ring. Are you there?

I’m outside, she said. You didn’t say inside or not.

True, Wesley said. Are you wearing a bra?

Yes, Amaya said. She bit her lip. Was this a trick? Was she going to lose after running out here just because she didn’t put the bra she was wearing in the backpack? Amaya had a bad suspicion that she was the butt of a joke.

Good, Wesley said. Remove your bra and put it in the backpack. When you are done, tell me and I will tell you the next step in your race.

Right here? Amaya said. A crowd of boys walked past her and she blushed. The young woman turned and faced the brick wall of the White building.

If you are willing to waste time looking for a bathroom, go right ahead, Wesley said.

He had a point. Amaya thought about it and realized that if this dorm were like hers, then it would need a key just to get past the lobby. She looked around and didn’t see a building that she recognized.

Fuck.

Amaya held the phone in the crick of her neck and went to work. First, she set down her backpack and took a deep breath. She hadn’t done this since that bus trip in the 11th grade. Amaya turned around so her back was to a wall and reached behind her. She unclasped her bra as fast as she could. A girl walked by and gave her a funny look. Amaya smiled back at her and looked away. She then reached up the sleeves of her shirt and pulled her shoulder straps down. Two guys walked by and gave her a knowing smile that made her blush. Amaya turned around and faced the wall as she pulled her bra through the sleeve of her shirt. Head down and her body shielding the backpack, Amaya stuffed the bra into her bag.

I did it, Amaya reported.

Good for you, Wesley said. There was an enthusiasm in his voice that reminded her of her Tennis coach. Now head to Student Center. You should have gone there for orientation.

I know where it is, Amaya groaned. It was on the far side of the campus from where she was.

The clock is running, Wesley said.

Amaya hung up and started to run. She realized immediately that running braless was going to be a problem. Her busty chest was bouncing like mad beneath her shirt. Amaya used to be proud of her chest because her American father’s genes had gifted her with a nice set in comparison to her mom’s flat chest. Now she was painfully shy of how much she jiggled as she ran. Every guy she passed did a double take and she got more than a few dirty looks from the women she passed.

There was no denying she was out of shape. The lack of food lately didn’t help but Amaya knew that it wasn’t completely to blame. Her lungs burned almost as badly as her calves and thighs. Amaya remembered how much pride she used to take in her endurance and health. As an Asian American, she had taken a lot of jokes about being a ‘Tennis Ninja’ but she knew that was an admittance to her physical ability. Gasping for air on a simple run was proof of how far she had fallen from her former standards.

Amaya slowed down as she reached the Student Center. She bent over and took some deep breaths. The sight that greeted her stunned her. She had been sweating so much, her nipples were as plain as day through her white t-shirt! Amaya had been running with a nearly transparent shirt!

She crossed her arms over her ample chest and called Wesley.

I’m here, she said. God, her breathing sounded so loud on the phone. Amaya realized she was doing the stereotypical dirty phone call voice.

Not bad, Wesley said. You are making good time. Are you wearing panties?

Yes, Amaya said. She knew what was coming.

Then head toward the bathroom and remove them, Wesley said. Put them in your bag and call me back for your next destination.

He hung up and Amaya slipped the phone back in her jeans. She was mad that she hadn’t seen it coming. Her body had hurt too much and the embarrassment of running braless had distracted her. Amaya didn’t hesitate. She headed straight for the woman’s restrooms.

There were three stalls in the bathroom and all of them were filled. Amaya groaned. Of course they were. It was the afternoon and the Student Center was packed. Time was running out and she was getting exhausted. Could she afford to wait for someone to come out? If the next destination was all the way across campus again, she would need as much time as possible to make it there with her body.

Amaya kicked off her shoes and unzipped her jeans. She kept her eye on the door and pulled her pants off. Her white panties were soaked with sweat and Amaya wondered if this was the whole point of today’s game. Did he just want some sweaty panties? Amaya stopped worrying about it and pulled off her panties. She stuffed them in her backpack and zipped it back up.

A toilet flushed.

Amaya fumbled with her jeans. Her eyes snapped between the restroom door and the doors to the stalls. She had no idea how soon someone would come out of the stalls and she didn’t want to be pantless when they did. Amaya pulled her jeans on as fast as she could but she wasn’t fast enough. A student came out right as Amaya was pulling her jeans to her ass. The woman just stared at Amaya finished pulling her jeans up and buttoned them. The student looked like she was about to ask a question but instead blushed a bright red. Before Amaya could think of a lie, the woman walked briskly out the door.

That could not be any more embarrassing, Amaya muttered. She put her shoes back on and called Wesley as she tied them.

I did it, she whispered.

That was fast, Wesley said. And a good thing too, you need to run to Perry building.

Where is that? Amaya asked.

It’s by the music arts building, beside the cafeteria there.

Amaya’s eyes widened. That area was filled with people and as sweaty as her shirt was, Amaya wasn’t sure she could do it. It was also another long run.

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