If you are working at your laptop and hear a voice say, “The game is on,” it could be your once-in-a-lifetime chance to experience Amityworld.
Keyboard Control
Hunting, Capturing and Training Remote Workers
Keyboard Control
Training Remote Workers
by Amity Harris
“THE GAME IS ON,” a woman’s voice said through his speakers. Still sitting at his desk, the man she selected dropped his head into his hands. He felt like he was losing his mind or someone pretty sophisticated hacked his computer. It was the second time today he’d heard the woman’s voice from his laptop. The first time? He ignored it; he thought it was an annoying popup ad. Twice couldn’t be a coincidence. That man was the first of five whose lives were about to be upended and if they were worth her effort, would be sold as remote workers for women across the country. Find out how Amity hunts down and trains five unsuspecting men to fill her friends’ purchase orders for remote workers. See if they pass her strenuous tests to qualify to be shipped to Amityworld where they’d learn her rules and submit to her ownership.
The Game is On!
Amity’s friends wanted a few quality remotes and asked her to find and break the right ones. She took control of their keyboards and commandeered every electronic device in the men’s lives. But when they were ready to be handed over to their new owners, a tragedy interrupted Amity’s life and her friends — and her Cop — tried to help her through it. See what happens when Amityworld is disrupted and who tries to try to help her set it right again. A warning: if you are working at your laptop and hear a voice say, “The game is on,” it could be your once-in-a-lifetime chance to experience Amityworld. If you’re good enough for a Domme like Amity.
Taking Keyboard Control – Preface
“THE GAME IS ON,” a severe woman’s voice came clearly through his speakers.
Almost frozen at his desk, Liam dropped his head into his hands. Either he was losing his mind or someone pretty sophisticated had hacked his computer. That was the second time today he’d heard that same woman’s voice coming from his laptop. The first time? He ignored it; he thought it was one those annoying popup ads. Twice in only a few minutes couldn’t be a coincidence.
Liam pressed the three-key combination a friend told him about, CTRL+ALT+DEL, to see what was running in the background. The list was three screens long and most of what he saw made no sense to him. Liam was nearly frantic. Had he been stupid enough to click on a malware site? Was his laptop infected?
He had no idea what to do, so Liam just stared at the screen. He started closing programs one by one and when he got to the last one in the list, he heard her voice again.
“That won’t help,” she said.
Panic shot from Liam’s toes toward his gut. If the voice could tell what he was doing on his computer in his own home, then whoever hacked him probably already had access to his data. All his files. Oh god, he thought, all my pictures. And videos. The ones on my hard drive and the ones I hid in cloud backup. If she was going to blackmail him, she had everything she could want.
That wasn’t the worst of it.
What was even worse for Liam was that she probably knew how much money he had in his bank accounts. He paid bills that morning online like he always did on Sundays. Liam started to sweat when he thought about his savings account and his IRA. He wasn’t rich, but he set up automatic transfers when he got paid electronically. Did she know about those accounts, too?
The voice said, “Liam, it’s not about money.”
“FUCK!” he shouted even though there was no one there to hear his frustration. He was alone and closing in on hysteria.
He took a deep breath.
Wait, what did she say? It’s not about money? What the hell does a hacker want if not money? Blackmail is always about money.
“Don’t curse,” the voice said harshly.
Liam stood up so fast, he knocked over the half-filled cup and coffee drizzled across his desk, saturated his yellow lined pad and drooled down into his pencil drawer.
“SHIT!” he yelled again even though no one could hear him. Liam pulled tissues out of the box he kept for spring and fall allergy seasons and tried to sop up the mess.
“I told you not to curse,” the voice said more sternly this time.
Liam threw the tissues into the wastebasket, plopped on the swivel chair he got on sale at a big box store and put his head in his hands. He hadn’t cried in years but sobs were threatening to escape from deep in his throat.
“You disobeyed me, Liam,” the voice said. “I can see that you are undisciplined. Don’t worry, I am expert at teaching men how to do as they are told.”
Liam stared at the screen through his wet eyes. It was too much. He couldn’t take any more of this torture. He was exhausted, confused and had no idea what to do. And his pants were wet from the remnants of the coffee.
“What do you want?” he asked the mysterious voice emanating from the laptop’s speakers. He was careful not to use four-letter words even though he had several on the tip of his tongue.
“That’s for me to know,” the voice said. “Go clean up and return to your computer. I will be here. Don’t keep me waiting.”
No you won’t, Liam thought and held his finger on the power button. Eight seconds should get her out of his system, he thought.
Like the other men whose keyboards she controlled, Liam was wrong.
