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Author Topic: Entrapment - Chapter 02  (Read 1061 times)
SinisterDegradation
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« on: March 09, 2016, 11:26:43 PM »

In Chapter 2, Jennifer struggles with the aftermath of the day’s events. Yesterday she was an up and coming executive and trader at a top tier Wall Street firm. Today, framed for crimes she did not commit, she has a choice. If she does nothing her fate is sealed; it will mean hard time. But her boss gave her a way to avoid prosecution. All she has to do is write a full and detailed confession… and then accept a menial position as eye candy at the receptionist’s desk.
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Jennifer didn't sleep that night as she tried to come to grips with what had happened, and the decision that she had to make. One moment she would be defiant, deciding to go to the authorities herself and tell them exactly what had transpired. But she couldn't hang onto that defiance for long. She knew full well that Mr. Jameson was a very powerful man, and that neither regulators nor the police would believe her story without his support.

At other times she would think of running. She had resources! She would lose a lot if she cashed out now, but she'd still have plenty of money to make a life in a non-extradition country somewhere!

As Jennifer thought about escape, her mood lightened considerably. There was a certain romance to the thought of living a comfortable life as the beautiful American woman with the mysterious past, somewhere in a picturesque corner of the Third World. Besides, as she thought about it this was the only real option.

Her optimism didn’t last long when she went online to see how much she might be able to pull together quickly. Her accounts had all been frozen! Even the money in the small checking account that she used for day-to-day expenditures was beyond her reach. She couldn't lay her hands on a $5 bill right now if her life depended on it! That shouldn't have been possible, even for someone like Mr. Jameson. Only federal regulators were supposed to have that kind of power!

She wondered if her boss had changed his mind and turned her in without waiting for her decision. There was no way she could know until some official with handcuffs appeared at her door. Jennifer pounded her fist on the table. "What a fucking asshole!" She decided that she would rather go to prison than give Jameson what he wanted!

A white-collar criminal like her – and yes, despite her innocence, she had begun to think of herself as a white-collar criminal – would wind up in a minimum security facility, she was sure. Those were the prisons that people laughed about and called country clubs. That wouldn't be so bad, would it? Surely she'd only be behind bars for a couple of years before she was paroled. Maybe she’d use the break to write a book.

But when she started to search the web for information about prison she was in for a shock. Since the crash of 2007 prosecutors and the public wanted Wall Street blood that almost a decade later they had still been denied. Federal and state authorities had both announced their intention of making white-collar criminals pay for their crimes just like everyone else, and had implemented new policies to that effect. She would be the first Wall Street executive tried under those new policies. The state and Feds would both insist on making an example of her. Then she remembered the intensity of Mr. Jameson’s anger and her earlier certainty that he would make sure that she had the harshest judge on the bench. For Jennifer, incarceration would mean decades in the general population of a maximum-security prison. That is one thing an Ivy League background does not prepare you for.

When Jennifer looked more deeply into what "hard time" really meant, what she read terrified her. She was totally unprepared for the stories of overcrowding, rape, abuse, gang violence, and even murder. And no one seemed to care! Guards and inmates alike seemed free to do whatever they liked to defenseless women without fear of retribution. Every now and then someone might get their hand slapped if a reporter made a big deal about a case, but then it was right back to business as usual. Mr. Jameson's comment about the dykes taking good care of her took on new menace.

She thought about what prison would be like. In her first months behind bars she would probably be tied up and beaten over and over. She knew that she was beautiful, and was certain that she would be a favorite of the male guards. There probably wouldn't be many days when she wasn't dragged into a room somewhere and raped. Those were rough, low-class men. They wouldn't see her as a woman at all. To them she would just be a piece of meat, some rich bitch who deserved what she got. They wouldn't wear condoms or care what holes they came in. Men like that would cum quickly inside a girl like her, but that wouldn't matter because there would always be another cock ready to take the place of the last. They would do all the vile things to her that their fat wives would never allow.

Without realizing it, Jennifer squeezed her thighs together and licked her lips at the thought of being held down, raped repeatedly and forced to suck filthy cocks fresh from her tight cunt and asshole. She was sure that the taste of her ass and having those huge cocks shoved down her throat would make her puke, but that they would just keep fucking her face anyway.

The other inmates would be jealous of her of course. What would they do to the new girl who was suddenly getting all of the male attention? The girls would surely make her nights hell. They would rape her with their fists and dildos cut from broom handles. They would make her service them. She imagined having her face shoved into nasty smelling cunt after nasty smelling cunt and forced to lick and suck until each girl came and squirted cum and piss down her throat.

Yes… they would certainly use her as a toilet. Her rough and violent cellmates would make her squat in the corner and swallow their piss. Or worse. At meals they would piss on her food and then watch, knowing that the guards would make her eat every bite. And they would torment her. They would laugh as they pushed her to the edge of her own orgasms, but they would never let her cum.

She imagined prison tattoos of hard cocks and gang symbols on her inner thighs and what it would feel like when they used a makeshift needle to pierce her nipples and cunt lips and tongue and clit. She knew that she would never climb the social ladder in prison. She would always be an anybody's girl. They would make her work out of course so that she would remain desirable…

…right up until the day some jealous bitch shoved a knife into her kidneys!

Jennifer snapped back into the moment and quickly pulled her hand away from her pussy! She wasn't sure how it had gotten there, and was disgusted with herself for her thoughts and the wetness running down her taint. No! She couldn't go to prison! She would die in prison. There was no doubt about that.

Her earlier shock was giving way to a real appreciation of the full gravity of her situation. She put her head in her hands and cried steadily for an hour, her mind racing in endless circles, until she finally accepted the only possible conclusion. She was trapped.

She would accept Mr. Jameson's terms, and she knew what that meant. Mr. Jameson didn't want a simple admission of guilt. He wanted her to tell the story of what she had done. He wanted details. He had trusted Jennifer as he trusted very few employees, and was now certain that she had betrayed that trust. He demanded that she tell him exactly how she had carried out her crimes. If she held back anything he would know it, and that would be the end.

It was after 10:00 before Jennifer had her emotions well enough under control to open the file folder and actually look at the records through the eyes of a brilliant trader and accounts executive rather than as a victim. Despite herself she became fascinated with what she found. As she went through the records case by case she had no problem imagining how she could have carried off such schemes. As markets had become more and more complex they had also become more and more focused on the privacy of those trading. That lack of transparency brought opportunity for a would-be thief. Her challenge wasn't thinking of ways to embezzle funds. Instead, the evening's intellectual game was choosing which methods best fit the traces that had been left behind.

At one point she even allowed herself a rueful chuckle. It was almost as if the system had been designed to allow people to skim money off of the top. Since the system was the product of the very people who stood to profit most from such crime, she doubted that the flaws were simple oversight. She had never let herself see that before. Hell, she should have been playing that game all along! If she had, then maybe she would be the one sitting behind the big desk!

There was one thing of which she was certain. If she had embezzled those funds, she never would have been caught. In her mind she was building a list of envious competitors in the office who might have done this. It was clear that whoever had framed her had meant to leave behind a trail of breadcrumbs for Mr. Jameson to follow. Had Jennifer been thinking more clearly she might have recognized that as a warning sign. Her boss knew these systems inside and out. If Jennifer could spot the subterfuge so easily, Mr. Jameson should have instantly seen that she was being set up intentionally.

That thought never crossed her mind, though. At this point her only focus was on constructing detailed, plausible stories that would satisfy her boss's demands and forestall his retribution.

By five in the morning the work had been done. In her characteristically careful, meticulous fashion she had prepared a clear, concise and detailed document describing "her crimes." In some peculiar way she was actually proud of the work. Even an expert forensic accountant would be convinced that only the perpetrator could have written the document. Certainly this would satisfy Mr. Jameson's demands!

But her sense of accomplishment did not last long. Now she had to face the part of the task that she had been dreading most. Mr. Jameson's words came back to her with full force. "Whore." "Thief." "Succeeded by spreading her legs." "Fuckable bimbo." "Worthless cunt."

A burst of last night’s defiance swept over her as she thought about the things her boss had said to and about her. She would run, even if she didn't have money! But when she looked out the window of her apartment the two men who had escorted her home from the office were still on the sidewalk below. One even looked up at her as she slid the curtain back, and blew her a kiss. Cheeky bastard!

But the casual disrespect of a man she would normally have dismissed without a thought had its effect. She finally surrendered in her mind. She knew what she had to do.

Jennifer had not given up her virginity until her senior year in college, and had only had two partners in her life. Both were trust fund, country club types, and neither was any good in bed. Or at least they weren't any good compared to the men in the pornography she secretly masturbated to when she needed relief from the stress of her job.

None of Jennifer's friends would ever believe the sexual fantasies that would come to her unbidden. She was so proper, so accomplished, so much the epitome of the Twenty-First Century empowered woman. She had worked so hard to become what she was.

That is why she was so disgusted with herself and the porn that she turned to when her lust became too much to ignore. For reasons she could not understand, that disgust only served to heighten her arousal on those occasions.

The "porn for women" genre did nothing for her. It was insipid and boring. Instead, it was gonzo porn that got her juices flowing, and not just any gonzo porn. Regardless of how much she tried to stay away from those sites, she always wound up watching scenes where clearly desperate women allowed themselves to be fucked – no, not fucked, raped – in violent and degrading ways. The poor, helpless girls would often break down, only to be verbally degraded until the rape resumed. There was no compassion in the end. She would say that the girls were dehumanized, but that seemed to imply that they had ever been human in the first place. To the men who brutalized them, the girls were nothing but objects from the moment they entered the room. When the girls had served their purpose, they were thrown back onto the street without a further thought.

It sickened her to admit it, but she had her best orgasms imagining herself as the victims in those videos. She hated how her body responded to the thoughts and images, but her shame and self-loathing only gave the darkness in her more power. It was a cycle that had only gotten worse since the first time she had stumbled onto one such sight and was unable to look away. That was one reason she had never been that sexually active. She was terrified of what she might become!

She truly hated herself as she poured herself a glass of wine, leaned back in her best chair and let her robe fall open. Jennifer lightly brushed her nipples with her fingers to help calm her nerves. She was surprised to find that they were already stiff and responsive to her touch, then she blushed, remembering her earlier unbidden prison fantasy. Reaching down between her legs she found the lips of her wet sex already swollen and full. Her large clit was engorged, and an unintentional touch sent electricity through her body.

Jennifer set her laptop beside her, opened a browser window and clicked on a video. The action on the screen began to unfold slowly. She watched as an older man with a balding head and modest beer gut pulled over and leered at a young scantily clad hitchhiker from the window of a beat-up truck. Jennifer was certain that the girl was of age, but on the screen she looked no older than sixteen. The girl put on a good act, pretending to be happy and bubbly, but you could tell from her face that in reality she was terrified and didn't want to be there. She was probably a runaway or a junkie who had run out of options.

Jennifer began to stroke her clit lightly but rhythmically as she watched the video. She wanted to cry out and warn the girl not to take the offered ride, but the girl climbed into the truck anyway. Somehow the young thing didn't seem to notice the way the man stroked the outline of the hard cock running down his thigh, straining at the fabric of his jeans. She seemed oblivious to the way that he stared at her breasts and the tiny thong panties that showed under her microskirt when she squirmed into the seat.

Rolling her clit and her nipple between finger and thumb Jennifer let out a slight moan as the man began to talk to the girl, telling her that he was sure that all the boys wanted her. He asked her if she had liked it when her daddy and uncles had touched her. "I'll even bet that's how you lost it! Was it your brother or your daddy or maybe your old grandpa who slipped into bed one night and showed you just why God put you here on this earth?"

The girl started to protest, demanding that the driver stop and let her out. Instead, the man turned off the highway onto a dirt side road. Jennifer started to pinch and twist her nipples harder and faster as the girl in the video demanded to know why he had turned. It was then that the man reached over and put his hand on her bare thigh.

"I don't give rides for free, sweetheart. And I don't think that you have much money. So tell me, how were you planning to pay?"

Jennifer lost herself in a haze as she watched the rough, callous man take advantage of the young girl. For several minutes what happened was pretty stock low budget porn. After some inane and predictable dialogue the girl had reached over and felt the guy's cock through his pants. Of course, she pretended to be startled at how big he was, and acted the part of the suddenly willing and horny slut as she took his cock out of his pants. A hand job turned into not a bad blowjob. Jennifer had to reassess her opinion of the actress. Maybe this wasn't her first rodeo after all.

But then something changed. Suddenly the guy grabbed the girl by the hair and dragged her out of the truck. Jennifer heard the cameraman say, "Dude!" The driver broke character for just long enough to say, "Keep fucking filming! I owe this bitch. Just keep filming!"

Still holding the girl by the hair the guy backhanded her hard and her head snapped to the side! "You think that you can buy a ride by batting your eyelashes and giving me a little head? Is that what you think, sweetheart. Do you really think that is going to do it?"

The girl started to cry in earnest and he backhanded her again. She tried to get away and screamed. "Fuck you, asshole! This isn't the shoot I agreed to…" But before she could finish the sentence he threw her down and stepped on her face with his boot, pressing it into the hard dirt road.

Jennifer was certain that the girl had signed a contract that spelled out this was going to be a rape scene and assuring anyone who saw the video that everything that took place was consensual. But Jennifer was equally certain that the girl had never read the contract, and had thought that she was just going to have to suck the guy off and maybe swallow his cum.

"Listen, cunt! There is nobody coming. There is no one to help you. This is happening. Your only choice is whether you take off your fucking clothes yourself or whether I rip them off of you. And let me tell you something. It REALLY pisses me off when some uppity little piece of shit teenage junkie whore thinks that she is too good to strip for me! Capiche!?"

The girl struggled for a moment longer, but when she did the guy only pressed his foot harder into her face. Jennifer could see it when the girl finally gave in. She could see the change in her body as she lie there unmoving.

"Yes."

"Yes what, bitch!!!"

"Yes sir, I understand."

He removed his foot and stepped back. "Tell me what you want, fuckmeat!"

The girl looked at him… "I… I want to strip for you, sir…"

"That's better!," he laugh. And then he kicked her hard in the gut!  "And THEN what do you want?"

The girl doubled up, but managed to answer. "Then I want you to fuck me, sir. I want you to shove your hard cock in me. I want you to use me."

Jennifer knew that this was no longer staged porn. Even though the girl was obviously going to be paid for the scene — probably at the going rate for vanilla oral — this was a real rape. And it was personal. At some point the girl had offended this guy, and now he was going to take it out of her flesh!

The girl stood up and began to move. Fuck, she moved! Suddenly she was a sensuous goddess. Caressing her tits through her top, the girl began undulating her hips. Then her top fell to the ground, revealing perfect breasts and the tattoo of a snake with its mouth open, ready to sink its fangs into her nipple. The girl's undulating body screamed, "sex." Clearly she was a stripper. Nobody moved like that without practice. That is probably where some "agent" found her and convinced her to do porn with promises of easy work, free drugs and fat paychecks.

Jennifer had never been with another woman, but that was one of her fantasies as well. Watching this girl she picked up the pace with her clit for a moment. Then she stopped and reached for a box tucked in an end table beside her chair. Opening the box she pulled out a life-like standard sized dildo.

The man in the video laughed. "Fuck that main stage dance shit, whore! I want to see the kind of dance that you do after a few lines back in the VIP room where nobody cares about the rules and the guy who bought you has money in his pocket!"

Instantly the girl responded. Now she was on turf that she knew. She turned her back toward the man and bent forward at the waist, pulling down her skirt as she went. When she was wearing nothing but the tiny thong panties and the 7 inch stripper heels that she had inexplicably been hitchhiking in she spread her legs and looked back at the man.

Jennifer plunged the dildo into her cunt as the girl on screen grabbed her own thong and yanked upwards hard! The girl gave out a little scream as the panties first dug hard into her soft, flawless slit and the crack of her ass, then tore free. The girl's cunt was smooth shaven. Unlike most porn stars her asshole was tiny, smooth, and perfect. Jennifer knew that the girl had never had anal sex. The thought made her own cunt gush and her own virgin ass clamp down as if on a cock it had never known.

By this time the man had stripped as well, and was standing directly in front of her, casually stroking his huge hard cock. "That's it, baby. Now you are getting into the swing of things. Go ahead. Show me what those fancy Wall Street types at the club get for those big fat tips!"

The girl stepped back until her ass was against the fender of the truck. Then she put her foot up on the bumper, legs spread wide. "See something you like, baby?" She took a nipple in one hand and slid three fingers up into her cunt and started working it. She was oozing coy as she went on. "Because I see something that I like. Why don't you bring that big hard cock over here?"

Jennifer began to mirror the actions of the girl on the screen. She removed the dildo and replaced it with three of her own fingers, and matched the girl's tempo and motions. When the girl reached down, took the guy's cock in her hand and began to stroke it, Jennifer moaned. She wanted that cock. She wanted to feel it, to taste it, to take it deep into her cunt until the head tore into her cervix and his balls rested on her ass.

Jennifer started to whimper at the man in the video out loud as she worked her cunt furiously. "God, I want it… Fuck me… oh god, fuck me… Give me that cock… Hurt me with your cock… Rape me! Please! Rape me… rape me… rape me…. RAPE ME!!!"

She was already on the edge of an orgasm when the scene in the video abruptly changed again. Without warning the man grabbed the girl by the hair and spit in her face, just as Mr. Jameson had early spit in Jennifer's own face! That connection made her cunt gush!

Now the man in the video was slapping the girl again and again. Each blow was harder than the last. He was an enraged animal, oblivious to anything but his own lust and power. Laughing maniacally, he yanked her around and shoved her face first across the fender of the truck and kicked her legs wide.

Jennifer had never experienced anal sex, and apparently neither had the girl on the screen. As the man positioned his cock against her asshole the struggling girl began screaming, crying, pleading. "I don't do that. I've never done that, not even with my boyfriend… please… please…" Jennifer knew what was coming. She shoved the dildo back up her cunt with one hand and started teasing her virgin ass hole with the other as the girl tried to fight back and screamed for help.

The girl looked at the cameraman now, tears pouring down her face, and started begging. "Please… please… Doug… don't let him do this to me… Fuck… please Doug… help me… help me… God, please help me…" But the camera just kept rolling.

When the man drove his cock forward it was brutal and abrupt. He lunged into her using all of his weight and strength. The camera was close now, and Jennifer could see the huge piece of rigid flesh tearing into the girl's untouched asshole. The girl's screams were no longer human. Rational thought had left her. She, too, was now just an animal, but in her case an animal in the grip of a predator, suffering primal pain, terrified for her life! It had to be painful for the man as well as he impaled her dry tight hole, but he did not stop until all ten inches of his fat cock were buried in the girl's ass and his balls pressed against her cunt.

Jennifer was repeating the girl's words and screams out loud, then gasped as the man pulled back. There had been no enema or lubricant for this anal virgin before her rape. As the man pulled his cock back it was covered in blood and shit.

Jennifer's orgasm hit when instead of shoving the cock back into the girl's asshole, he pulled it out and drove his filth-smeared shaft into her unsuspecting cunt! Again he shoved all the way in. Jennifer would have said it was impossible for the girl to scream or struggle harder than she had been, but the man casually mandhandled her with no apparent effort. Back and forth, cunt to ass, ass to cunt, cunt to ass, ass to cunt…

Finally, the girl was broken. She stopped struggling and just let the man have her holes any way he liked. She didn't even fight back when he came in her ass, then pulled out and demanded that she clean the filth off of his cock. She just dropped to her knees and opened her mouth. The girl could not keep herself from puking at the taste of cum and shit and the cock jabbing repeatedly against the back of her throat, but that did not matter any more. She just kept sucking.

Jennifer knew that the girl was broken for life. You didn't come back from something like this. To make it worse, the girl had signed a release and the act had been filmed. Legally, this was consensual! From now on, every time someone looked at her, the girl would have to wonder if they knew who and what she was. The video wasn’t even behind a pay wall. It was a featured video on one of the most popular “tube” sites. Jennifer glanced down and noticed that it registered over two million views. She was sure that now when the girl stripped men would recognize her, laugh, and call her names like shit eater. It would only be the filthiest clubs that were nothing but fronts for dope and prostitution that would hire her now.

And after today the porn directors would expect her to be the nasty girl who is up for anything, including plenty of off-camera sex if that is what it took to get the part. The girl would give in to all of it. She would have no choice. Her body was the only thing of value that she had. Jennifer was sure that by now the girl could no longer live without the drugs that had once given her such blissful highs when an agent first gave them to her and called her beautiful.

In only a few minutes the girl had gone from high class exotic dancer and up and coming porn starlet to a worthless crack whore.

Jennifer was inventing the story in her head, but she knew that she wasn't wrong. She came again and again as the rape continued. If anything, the cameraman was even more brutal when he got into the act. After the men both came several times, they taunted the girl about all that she was now good for. They called her toilet, and made her kneel and open her mouth as they stood in front of her with their now-flacid cocks.

The most powerful orgasm of Jennifer's life hit her as the girl compliantly swallowed mouthful after mouthful of thick, foul urine. Jennifer spasmed and screamed as she continued to work her hypersensitive clit, wanting in the moment to be the girl on the screen.

Jennifer finally let the string of orgasms go as the scene came to its end. The two men stood over the naked girl and emptied the rest of their bladders on her face and in her hair as she lay there naked, cowering and shivering in the mud of the ditch beside the road. The last shot was when they threw her shredded clothes back at the girl, told her to enjoy the rest of her trip, and drove away.

Jennifer lost consciousness for a moment, slumping back into her chair, her arms falling to her sides. When she roused, somehow she was ready to set her mind to the task at hand. She put on a headset and opened a voice transcription window on her computer. Then she started another porno, this one a full-length movie showing the story on a young coed selling herself for drugs and money until she had become the gang rape girl for all of the fraternities across campus.

As Jennifer watched the story develop, fingering her cunt and teasing her nipples just enough to keep her in a state of heightened arousal, she began to dictate her own fictional tale. She spared no imaginary details. She told of her undergraduate years, whoring herself to obtain copies of exam keys before they were given. She invented stories of seducing professors, and of how she had gone on to earn her MBA by performing fellatio on her advisor every day after class, then stripping and whoring herself for him and his friends at poker games and other gatherings.

The longer she went, the more lurid the tales became. She had forgotten in the moment why she was doing this. To be honest, she was just telling the fantasies that she had secretly entertained ever since she had discovered as a child the pleasure of pushing her pelvis against the corner of the table in her room. As she dictated, following the fantasies where they went, her body again began to demand release.

She teased her cunt and nipples now, forcing herself to stay right on the edge until she had finished a tale of eating out the boss's wife while he took her in the ass at her last internship.

"… And that is how I wound up at Jameson Financial."

When she let the orgasm happen, she had no problem saying the things that she knew Mr. Jameson wanted to hear. "I am a worthless fucking piece of shit thief and whore! I always have been! I let men use me because that's all I'm good for!"

As the orgasm receded, Jennifer slowly returned to her senses. She sobbed for a few minutes, and then added the final touches.

"I am so, so sorry that I stole from you Mr. Jameson. It was wrong. I am worthless and despicable, and don't deserve your mercy. Please, please don't send me to prison. I would die in prison. You are such a good man for giving me mercy that I don't deserve. Please Mr. Jameson! Please let me show you how thankful I am by working as your eye candy receptionist, letting your clients take pleasure looking at the obviously stupid little bimbo who is just happy that she doesn't have to earn her keep any more by letting men shoot cum up her cunt. This is what I was born to be, Mr. Jameson. Thank you for showing me that. Please. Please. Please."

Jennifer looked at the clock it was almost 8:30! She had no time to proofread or edit the vile stories, or to shower. All she could do was throw on the clothes she had worn yesterday while the documents printed and then run for a cab!
Logged

"Crime is the soul of lust. What would pleasure be if it were not accompanied by crime? It is not the object of debauchery that excites us, rather the idea of evil." -- Marquis de Sade
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