IRC - When Predator Becomes Prey

"When predator becomes prey."

© drkfetyshnyghts 2009

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Foreword

IRC stands for "Internet Relay Chat". It was originally written by Jarkko Oikarinen in 1988. Since starting in Finland, it has been used in over 60 countries around the world. IRC is a multi-user chat system, where people meet on Channels (rooms, virtual places, usually with a certain topic of conversation) to talk in groups, or privately. There is no restriction to the number of people that can participate in a given discussion, or the number of channels that can be formed on IRC.

So much is written about the internet and its dangers. Who are we REALLY talking to? Is that person REALLY who she says she is? We put so much emphasis on protecting those who may be vulnerable. But what COULD happen when the predator becomes the prey? This story is a complete work of fiction inspired by adult chat rooms that exist on the Internet Relay Chat networks. But, just think... just think, for one minute -- things happen. Actions have consequences. Behaviour has consequences. For one predator, one 'poser'... life will change forever.

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ONE: Deception.

Claudette looked at one screen and casually clicked the mouse as another deal went through without a hitch. And yet she seemed 'underwhelmed' by it all. She had just earned the finance house she worked for another billion dollars. With the same click of the mouse she had banked herself probably in excess of a million dollars in bonuses. Oh she looked at the huge, flat panel LCD computer screen long enough to ascertain that the deal had in fact gone through without problems. Claudette never actually got problems with her deals. She never had, in twenty odd years in the City. Colleagues would put that down to her attention to detail. Anyone who knew Claudette knew about her attention to detail. Dotting the i's crossing the t's. She never left everything entirely to the automation. Never relied completely on computers doing all of the work for her. This latest deal was no different. The same minute attention to detail applied before the mouse click. That mouse click just the final action. The one that sealed the deal. Her perfectly manicured nails clicked and drummed the desktop. A good days work.

Claudette had this habit, before that final mouse click, of simply crossing her legs under her desk. Making the sheerest of nylon swish on nylon so that her thighs rasped. It wasn't quite the little ritual people might assume it was, if they knew. But it was a habit. If one were to study that particular action one would see that her impossibly clean stilettos were placed precisely, minutely in the same place before the leg cross and then the lifting of one, arched foot so that she could cross one thigh over the other was like an identical replay each and every time. The only way it could be differentiated from the one before, or any of the ones in the future, would be the outfit that Claudette wore. Always power dressed but always slightly different. Never two days in one week the same. Claudette was always impeccably turned out. Corporate outfits of the 'look at me I am in charge' variety. Maybe slightly different shades of nylon. From flesh through to barely black. Never totally black. Claudette saved the black for when, or if she wanted to look like a hooker. Those days did happen. But those were special days. And never during work hours. Also, those nylons, never garish colours. Rather from flesh colour through all the shades of brown. And always, but always the most expensive, silkiest nylons one could buy.

And then there were the shoes, or the boots.. Once again, stylish and expensive. Once again impossibly, even slavishly clean. Anyone knowing shoes and boots would just know that these were not off the high street shelves. The only similarity in these shoes and boots, were the height of the heels. Extreme heels would be an appropriate way to describe them. Another word that may spring to mind, was 'fetish'. Boots, shoes, either always impeccably, or even unnaturally clean. Shoes of various styles from 'court style pumps' through to intricately detailed fuller shoes. Never anything styled in a way that spoiled the line of Claudette's stunningly shapely and long legs. Always shoes and boots adding to Claudette. Boots never above knee height, or never below calf height and always but always tight fitting in supple leather and usually tightly laced. She abhorred ankle boots because they cut off leg length and it didn't matter what was worn with them, they just didn't look right. If Claudette made sure of anything, it was the fact that she always, but always 'looked right'. Those heels, boots or shoes, were another constant. She never wore flats. And yet she always went one or more above the 'killer heels' level. It wasn't simply killer heels that she wore. The heels that Claudette arched her feet into every single day of her life were closer to 'ultra-fetish' than they were to simply 'killer'. Claudette was a woman who didn't simply wear high heels. She enjoyed them. Embraced them. She loved then. Understanding then why she also didn't simply cross her legs, but got some kind of buzz out of that very action. It was quite obvious to anyone who knew Claudette that she had this 'thing' about her feet, and her legs. She simply had to show them off to best effect. And the simple matter of fact was that she could do that with a natural and consummate ease. She didn't need to work at it. It was a simply matter of fact of her life. It was the same as everything in Claudette's life, it just seemed to come easily with the very minimum of effort. Maximum impact and vision in return for the littlest of effort. Claudette liked that. She liked it a lot. She liked it that she didn't have to try too hard at anything she did. She liked the casual way she achieved and succeeded in any challenges she seemed to come up against.

Claudette had crossed her legs, and sucked in air at the sensation that very action had caused. That tingle up and down her upper thighs. She had waited for that to fade and die before clicking the mouse and watching the transaction go through. Job done! But apart from that little sparkle that leapt out of her huge, saucer like eyes as that tingle had travelled, she had seemed maybe a little jaded, but also a more than a little preoccupied. No reports back of problems with the deal. A split second and she would have got a report back telling her if there had been such an issue. Then her eyes flicking to another screen. Her own personal laptop screen. A massively bright, impressive seventeen inch Apple wide screen. The top end of Apple's MacBook Pro range. Fully loaded and Claudette's own machine. Logged on to the company network and yet operating behind its own sophisticated firewall. Something was bugging her. Not absolutely obviously, just something in the way her attention was being stolen from the billion dollar plus deal she had just put through. Just something in the way her eyes flicked from screen to screen and then back again. The way her eyes just seemed to be drawn to her own laptop more than the huge deal she had put through on the company's machine.

Claudette was also "Athenia" an IRC Super-Operator. IRC being the Internet Relay Chat community. One of the oldest, if not 'the' oldest on the internet. IRC actually existing before the internet itself, as we know it today. Claudette having found it, quite by accident when she was in her twenties. Now in her forty first year, she, or Athenia had risen in the ranks and was the single most respected operator on the BonNet.com servers. BonNet being abbreviated, like most things IRC. Abbreviated in this case from the words Bondage and Network. The BonNet servers hosting some one thousand plus chat rooms for people with varying interests within the BDSM and Fetish spectrums. A community totalling some one hundred thousand people, and counting and with a host of 'interests' and 'hobbies' too exhaustive to list here. Usually the name of that room reflecting the interests of the occupants. "Latex Sluts" for instance needing no further explanation, for most. Athenia actually discovering fetish and BDSM through this very medium. Her interest, turning into a passion and then a full blown way of life over the years. Albeit a secret way of life. Athenia, her 'other-self' and very much, or for the most part at least, apart from her professional life. Her professional life being very much able to fund her 'secret life'. For sure, Claudette's footwear alone didn't come from the budget end of the market. And yet for the hundreds and thousands of dollars that her footwear cost at a time, she was able to make the purchases barely noticing the difference in her personal banking balances. Having said that, she DID notice the ever changing balances simply because of her eye for the minute of detail.

BonNet, very strictly an adults only community so with none of the child protection issues that a lot of networks have. Apart from the odd underage person stumbling upon the network accidentally and trying to gain access that is. Issues of that kind were soon exposed and dealt with. BDSM and Fetish got enough bad press as it was without allowing access to curious adolescents. And yet, after saying that, BonNet was a network with its own little nest of issues. Or potential issues if matters weren't kept in check. As super-op, Claudette had various advanced access privileges afforded to her. Tracking and tracing for instance. Screen names logged and linked with advanced tracing of IP addresses. ISP (Internet Service Providers) and in general, access and use that was not available to the normal everyday user of BonNet. Nor the normal level of operators. Normal operators could for instance kick and ban individuals, from individual rooms, but Claudette could kick asses off and ban them from the server in total for repeated abuse of the terms of service. Athenia often laughed to herself at the level of 'asshole' that sometimes found their way onto the BonNet server and into the various rooms. Assholes were usually easy to spot, easy to weed out and even easier to eradicate with a few clicks of the mouse. She left the moderating of the rooms to their respective individual operators and on the whole things pretty much ran smoothly. Thing had run smoothly since she had been at the helm. It was rare for her to get involved operationally unless there were issues that arose that room operators could not deal with. Or wanted advice on. Athenia was always more than happy to help and advise the lesser experienced operators.

Something was bugging Athenia though. The deal had gone through and she was personally, a million up. But the way she crossed her stunning legs, then recrossed them just wasn't sitting quite right with her normal confident demeanour. Her huge, expertly made up eyes flicked back to her lap top and stayed there on an increasing basis over the period of a few minutes. Eventually, that screen had her total and unflinching attention. It wasn't so much a troubled expression that came over her face, more like an expression of puzzlement. Head slightly tilted to one side, and then running her fingers through the thick, long mane of flame red hair that seemed to frame her stunningly attractive face making it even more so. The pressing of her full, deep red lips together, then rolling them in before 'smacking' them against themselves allowing them to peel apart of their own accord. A deep sigh. Tapping the page-down key on her keyboard. Then the page up as though she were reading and then re-reading. Leaning over the desk to press the intercom button to her PA in the office pool outside.

"Selena, hold any calls. I don't want to be disturbed not even urgently. Take messages, tell people I'll get back to them if you can't deal with it yourself. OK?"

Claudette didn't wait for the response from the other end of the intercom. Pure confidence that her PA was in place and had heard and understood every word. Almost an arrogance in the way she conducted herself. Not a rude arrogance. Just a very confident, no-messing arrogance. Claudette's attention, even before she had released the intercom button was back to her screen. Full immersion. She idly fingered a pack of cigarettes on her desk. She had been trying to give up and had decided that slowly was the best way. Already she was in the 'social smoker only' spectrum and was more pleased with herself because of that than with all of those massive deals she pulled off. This time though, it was different. She needed a cigarette and slipped an extra long cork tipped one from the pack. At first she simply dangled it from her red lips. Eyes still fixed on the screen. She seemed to leave that cigarette dangle for an age before she finally flicked a lighter to life and lit it. When she did, she dragged heavily, then inhaled. It was only when she inhaled that the mass of her breasts shifted under the silk blouse she was wearing. Both breasts rising, and staying high as she held the smoke down in her lungs. Then lowering as she exhaled lazily. Letting the smoke pour from between her full lips rather than blowing it out. All the time her eyes focused on the screen of her laptop.

A few weeks previously, Athenia had had a nickname brought to her attention. A nickname being the screen name that members of IRC communities use instead of their own real names. For instance Claudette's nickname, or screen name is Athenia. What was odd about the screen name brought to Athenia's attention was that it appeared to log on through a countless number of internet service providers, but more importantly from different geographical locations. That is, not different locations say within the United Kingdom, or United States for instance, but different locations on a worldwide scale. On the face of it, there was nothing wrong with this. People travel and people take their computers with them. What was strange, was when the ISPs and geographic locations were all married up to the time stamps of log-ins to BonNet.com, it became glaringly obvious that this person, whoever she was could not physically being doing all of that travelling in the time slots that the log-in records indicated. Even when local time versus log-in location time was take into consideration, that fact jumped out and begged for attention. These were the facts that attracted the attentions of the IRC super-ops in the first place. More so especially leaving Claudette with more than a little disturbed feeling in the pit of her stomach. When the facts slowly unravelled the disturbed feeling in the pit of her stomach would only increase. And then increase again.

Somebody using the screen name MissMyndFuck was, with apparent ease being able to log on to the network and feed their connection through any number of ISPs through any number of countries, worldwide and simply talk to anyone in the rooms. The IRC network offered its own security and anonymity for users discretion and BonNet further enhanced user discretion making it impossible for normal, everyday users to track or trace anyone else on the network, for obvious reasons. Added to this was the fact that the network and BonNet were completely free to use. Which meant that there was no subscription, or pay transactions to be processed or encrypted which in itself ensured users discretions and secrecy if that was what they desired. So quite why, this MissMyndFuck would want to add a further level of advanced and sophisticated 'rumble prevention' escaped Athenia, at least initially. One could only come to the conclusion that in fact, the intentions of the user MissMyndFuck were less than honest. Or less than genuine. Or more worryingly, that the intentions were in fact sinister. These facts as they rattled around Athenia's head didn't simply escape her, they implored her to look further into it. It was simply something she had to do. And, another strange and nagging thing that was chipping away at Athenia was that there felt that there was something of an urgency attached to the matter. Just a feeling that the sooner she acted, the sooner she came up with answers, the better she would feel. That accounted for the slight chill down he spine. The one that made her shift constantly on hr seat. The one that made her cross and recross her delicious legs time after time.

The further Athenia had dug, the more concerned she had become. MissMyndFuck had used a fixed IP address. She understood that because it meant that her connection wherever it was made remained stable. The IRC network, or more to the point, BonNet would recognise it immediately and not flag it up as a 'new' or 'unknown' user. So the stable, uninterrupted connection was important to her. More important than the fact that because she was using a constant IP address and apparently from different countries, her connection would be eventually flagged up as suspicious anyway. It became totally obvious to Athenia that this person, whoever it was, just simply did not want to be tracked or traced and had gone to a lot of time and trouble to set herself up so that that would not happen. That feat alone took pretty advanced knowledge of networks and protocol. That bugged Athenia. It bugged her more than a little bit. Why would anyone go to such trouble? She considered that the whole IRC thing, and especially BonNet with its Fetish and BDSM roots was clandestine enough to offer any level of 'enthusiast' the anonymity they needed without going to this extra trouble. And, really, re-routing connections through other countries, sometime several countries at a time was not an easy thing to do. It took network knowledge and skill to be able to set that up, and maintain it. MissMyndFuck, it appeared, had been using BonNet for something like three years before she had been flagged up as overly "odd'. This MissMyndFuck, whoever she was had to be investigated further. There was something on a level up, more than simply sinister about it all. There was really only one person who could carry out this level of investigation.

Athenia had got the bit between the teeth. She had prided herself that she could explain, fix or set up anything IRC that anyone cared to bring up. Her knowledge was vast. And so ok, she had found out what this woman was doing. Even, more or less how she was doing it. She had even come to the conclusion that well actually MissMyndFuck wasn't breaking any rules, or abusing the terms of service and usage of the BonNet network at all. But that wasn't the point. Something, just something kept niggling at Athenia. She had to dig deeper. She simply had to. One thing just kept going through her mind and that was that no-one, but no-one went to THIS much trouble in order to get their jollies on BonNet. There just had to be something very very sinister about the whole thing. Athenia did dig deeper. In the first instance she set up a track script so that every instance of every log-in by MissMyndFuck would be catalogued. And every instance of every room entered also catalogued. Every room conversation in which she took part would also be catalogued and filed. But that was an added cause for concern. She very rarely took part in room conversations. In fact, the sum total of her involvement in the rooms themselves was a simple,

"good morning / good afternoon / good evening, I am MissMyndFuck a 40 year old Dominatrix of the advanced variety."

And that was it. Simply an introduction. An habitual one because most of the rooms on BonNet required an 'id' on entry. Age and sex was usually enough. But MissMyndFuck's intro and id went a step further, like a laying of the bait. Just a gentle stretching of the feelers. Most, if not all of MissMyndFuck's conversations were in the form of private messages. IRC carried the facility to enable users to have private conversations between each other. That is two users could communicate by private message, and their conversation would remain invisible to other users. It was a fact that most conversations on the network were carried out this way. The rooms were usually simply a meeting place. Occasionally there were protracted, often boring conversations taking place, even some 'play', in which role-play scenes depicting interests connected with the room itself were engaged in. Even Athenia had to admit that some of these scenarios had more than perked her interest. It was how she got into BDSM and Fetish in the first place. But MissMyndFuck never played in public and never took part in protracted conversations in the rooms. This only served to further Athenia's puzzlement and increasing suspicion. She had to dig deeper still. It was possible for her as Super-Op to set a script whereby private conversations were also recorded and logged. This was a power that was not used lightly. In fact, Athenia had never used it. It was like a gross invasion of privacy and probably illegal in most countries. However, on this occasion, and solely this occasion, there was a need and a justification. Claudette, aka Athenia was not getting good vibes from this whole thing. In fact the vibes she was getting were very bad ones. The deeper she dug, the worse those vibes became.