Entrapment – Chapter 03 / The future begins
Left with no real options, Jennifer spent a sleepless night writing a confession for crimes she did not commit, and a degrading fictional account of how she had whored her way into her previous position at Jameson Financial.
Now she has to face Mr. Jameson again, this time knowing that it is to place her life in his hands.
Framed - Beautiful and brilliant Jennifer is framed by her psychopathic boss and forced to choose between prison and a life of servitude and degradation.
Jennifer's Decision - Jennifer's struggle with an impossible situation brings her face to face with her own demons.
John Jameson’s back was to the door when Jennifer Conroy burst into his office, breathless, at exactly 9 o'clock. For Jennifer, this moment would define the rest of her life. For John, it seemed to make so little difference that he didn't bother to turn around to look at her. He just spoke into the air.
Jennifer was breathing heavily, having trouble catching her breath well enough to speak. Without money or the ability to access any of her accounts, what should have been a comfortable taxi ride had in fact turned into a flat out 30 minute dead run through downtown Manhattan as she tried desperately to make the deadline Mr. Jameson had set.
“It’s me… It’s Jennifer…” Panting furiously, she concentrated, pulling herself together enough to say a few words. “It’s Jennifer... Jennifer Conroy… Mr. Jameson. I have… I have the things… you wanted me to write… sir.”
Yesterday, Jameson had made it clear that so much as a minute late and he would turn her over to the authorities. She had expected him to be anxious for her arrival, and to see what she had written. Instead, he was aggravated that she had disturbed him. Still without turning from his work to face her, he just snarled.
"Goddamn it! Since when does a receptionist barge unannounced into the CEO’s office? Who the hell do you think you are? Put it on the desk."
Jennifer knew that the brusque remark was a calculated reminder of her new status, but that did nothing to soften the blow. She felt like she had been punched in the gut. After all of her effort, Jennifer had imagined praise for her punctuality. This was her opportunity to begin to show Mr. Jameson that she would work hard to re-earn his trust. She wanted to plead with him, to again protest her innocence, and to resume her rightful place in the world. Frustration and desperation raged within her, but she held her tongue, knowing from his reaction that any hope of that had passed.
But even more than the unfairness of her situation, Jennifer realized that what truly hurt was the loss of Mr. Jameson’s regard. She craved his praise and approval. Even though she had done nothing, she still withered under the burden of his disappointment. In that moment she would have given her soul to see him smile at her and share his easy laugh. Had John been watching, he would have seen the girl become somehow smaller with the rebuke. Her expression collapsed, her head dropped and a tear trickled down her face, unbidden.
Since yesterday she had come to hate this man, who had shown her so little consideration and now sat with his back to her as if she were nothing! So why did his sharp words ~hurt~? She tried to tell herself that this new sensitivity to his displeasure was her instinct for self-preservation talking – he did hold her life in his hands – but that was a lie. It seemed impossible that she could crave his approval, but she recognized that she did. Ironically, with the difference between his position and hers suddenly so vast, she craved his approval more than she ever had as an executive.
Jennifer did not want to feel the way that she did, but recognized that this was nothing new. From the time she had been a small girl, Jennifer had been helplessly sensitive to the disapproval of others. More specifically, she had been sensitive to the disapproval of her father, her teachers, her professors, her supervisors, and anyone in a position of authority over her. There was no agony for her quite like knowing that she had failed to please. She needed their praise and approval like she needed air, and had worked desperately to earn and keep it.
After her one and only B in high school, Mr. Thompson, her math teacher, had been obviously upset with her after a poor performance on the final exam. She had been up all night every night that week working on final projects for her spate of honors classes, and had barely been able to see straight when she sat for the exam.
Any other student would have been ecstatic having survived such a semester with five A’s and one B. But for Jennifer that B, or rather Mr. Thompson’s disapproval and disappointment, had triggered a depression that lasted for most of the summer. She could do little but cry, and even confided to a friend that she might choose suicide over having to face Mr. Thompson the following year.
She only pulled herself out of her funk by devoting the last month of vacation to preparations for the coming year. She studied day after day, giving up most of her social life. She resolved that she would do whatever it took to make math her best subject! That experience is ultimately what led her to her chosen career. Math had led to statistics, computer science, economics and finance.
That B in math class gave birth to what would become the driving force behind her success in life. She did not strive for success for herself. Her inspiration was, and always had been, her need to please.
Jennifer put the folder containing last night’s work on the corner of Mr. Jameson’s large mahogany desk and then stepped back, still standing. After a few minutes of being completely ignored, she asked carefully, “Sir, my feet hurt a lot from having to run to the office in heels. May I sit down and wait?”
There was no response to the question. There was not a word, not even a tilt of his head or a pause in what he was doing to indicate that he had heard. Jennifer was suddenly terrified that she may have spoken out of turn. She understood from his earlier reaction that there might be consequences for taking the liberty of sitting down. She had walked into this office and taken a seat without asking a thousand times, but this morning it felt like it would be, what? Unsuitable? Disrespectful? Improper? Maybe that was the right word for the feeling. It would not be proper for a lowly girl like her to sit without permission. And so she stood in silence.
Half an hour went by, and Jameson continued to ignore her, continuing his work. The unstated message was crystal clear. Mr. Jameson’s time had value. Jennifer’s did not. She had become one of “those people.” They were the people who were not important enough to actually think about, or frankly even to see. They were there in the background, as replaceable as an ink cartridge and treated with about as much regard. Yesterday, she was the one subordinates would wait to see, hoping that she could find a moment. Now she was less than an afterthought.
Another hour came and went as Mr. Jameson worked for a time studying the day’s markets, took a couple of phone calls, had his secretary make a lunch date with a Deputy Director of the Securities and Exchange Commission, and read the front page and business sections of the NY Times. Jennifer had been standing there for an hour and a half, bruised feet agonizingly painful in her heels, before he turned toward her.
But instead of addressing her he simply stood up, put on his jacket and walked out of his office.
By the time Mr. Jameson returned, Jennifer had been standing for over two and a half hours. Her feet were in agony. Her sweat from the morning had dried, leaving her hair matted to her head. Her stomach was in knots as she heard him enter the room. This time he acknowledged her existence.
"You look awful! Jesus! Don't ever show up in my presence looking like that again! Understood?"
Jennifer looked at the floor, and muttered, "Yes, Mr. Jameson."
John picked up the folder that Jennifer had placed on his desk earlier and opened it. He immediately recognized the care the girl had put into preparing the description of her "crimes." He checked the "confession" carefully, frequently referring to the account records to refresh his own memory. This needed to be airtight.
He had to admit, Jennifer was good. She got a few of the details wrong, but only because there was no way she could have known some of the things he had done. Yet she had filled in those gaps beautifully. Everything that she had written was completely consistent with the evidence he had given her. For a girl who had probably never stolen a paperclip in her life, Jennifer had done a remarkable job of reconstructing how John had carried out the embezzlement in her name. She had even spotted the slight error that he had made so that he could later "discover" the missing funds.
John chuckled to himself. Perhaps Jennifer’s life as a legitimate professional was over, but her skills might turn out to be useful at some point in the future. He wondered how she would react the first time he had her launder money from a human trafficking ring or another of his lucrative side businesses.
When he had convinced himself that the confession would stand any scrutiny, John opened the second document and began to read. This was Jennifer’s fictional account of how she had whored her way through college and upward through the male-dominated ranks of Wall Street. The words were delicious, especially in their obviously unedited form. There was nothing phony about them.
The document did contain random gibberish and foul words from place to place, however. He came to one extended paragraph that read:
"… hat fragged fug fat shit me me come come nightmared scream gars, and bre yes yes yes yes hat bed to bloom my my cock grabbing cunt where, shit shit oh shit oh shit a feel ibid port, before start fuck fuck invited over, shit shit shit whaver asshole piss shit fuck shit fuck one drabled suck mad whe party worthless quiedporty skank thorn dark, gart not re, hat whore throm hand cloo almought but begs and oh goddamnit shit shit ump…"
John laughed out loud, thinking about the poor transcription software doing its best to keep up as Jennifer screamed out an orgasm! Everything about her this morning told him that he had judged her properly. When left to herself, the thought of her fate had clearly driven her into an erotic frenzy! Maybe at some point he would have the girl edit her stories and submit them to a men's stroke magazine, along with nude pictures of herself of course. Finally satisfied, John pushed the button on the intercom on his desk.
"Tiffany, would you come in here please?"
The woman who walked into the office was a statuesque blonde, with long legs that showed beneath her slightly too short dress, and smooth cleavage where one more button had been undone than was really appropriate for an office workplace. She would stand out in any group of beautiful women, and had the kind of unforced sway to her movements that would make a gay priest give up choir boys and beg for eternal damnation just for the chance to have her once.
"What can I help you with, Mr. Jameson?" Tiffany's voice matched the rest of the visage.
Mr. Jameson nodded at the documents on his desk. "I'd like you to look these over, then notarize each page after Miss Conroy has signed it. Make three copies. One is for your private records in case you ever need them. The other two copies and the original to me. Oh, and when you've finished, take her to the employee's shower and have her clean up, for God's sake. She's disgusting!"
Again, John turned back to his work without so much as a glance at Jennifer. Tiffany simply turned and left the office, stopping only when Jennifer failed to follow.
"Are you coming or not, bitch?," Tiffany snarled.
Jennifer almost snapped back, "How dare you?," but caught herself.
Before today, Tiffany had always treated Jennifer with the utmost respect. It had been, "Ms. Conroy, how are you today?" "Ms. Conroy, can I do anything to help with your reports?" "Ms. Conroy, I'm headed out for a few minutes. Can I bring you back a sandwich or a coffee?" "No, Ms. Conroy, I don't mind coming in on Saturday and sorting out those files." They had even gone out for drinks a few times, and Tiffany was always fawning over Jennifer about how she was a role model and inspiration for women everywhere.
But that was then. Jennifer had been on the fast track to success, and it paid to be on her good side. Things were different now. With a start Jennifer realized that Tiffany's new attitude was probably what the girl had always really been thinking behind her sweet, syrupy smile. There was only one person apart from Mr. Jameson and Jennifer herself who knew about her new status, and that one other person had instantly become her enemy!
Tiffany took a seat at her desk, but did not offer Jennifer a chair, leaving her to continue to endure the building agony in her feet. Tiffany took her time looking through the documents that Mr. Jameson had handed her, smirking each time she had Jennifer bend over to sign a new page, and then stamping the sheet with her notary seal. Watching Mr. Jameson's secretary read Jennifer's confession of how she had stolen two million dollars was bad enough, but Jennifer was horrified when the woman turned her attention the second document. Tiffany's reaction did not disappoint.
"Oh honey! For the stuck up little holier-than-thou bitch that you've always pretended to be, I guess now I'm finally getting to know something about the real you! Quite the little adventuress, aren't we? Do I need to let you slip into the janitor's closet for a while and fuck yourself with a broom handle or something? I mean, it has to have been at least two hours since you've had anything in your cunt. Is that some kind of a record?"
Jennifer's face turned crimson when she heard a few chuckles from other girls in the office, but all she could do was stand there and endure the verbal abuse from this woman who she had always thought of as her inferior. To her credit, Jennifer realized that trying to defend herself would only make matters worse, so she stood there in stony silence and signed each page as it was placed before her.
When the documents were signed — and Tiffany had read through the good parts again, out loud — Tiffany stood up and headed for the copy machine. Needless to say, she didn’t use the copy machine that was about 10 feet from her desk. Instead she headed for the machine located in the main bullpen on the far side of the suite of offices, making certain that few would miss the spectacle. As Jennifer looked around, it was clear that all eyes were on her. She could hear the hushed murmurs, open statements, and occasional outright laughter as she followed the secretary through the once familiar but suddenly foreign and terrifying hallways.
As she passed by what had been her own office she noticed that all of her possessions were gone, and that her name beside the door had already been replaced by that of a rival. The asshole himself was sitting behind what had been her desk with his feet up. He winked at her and blew her a kiss when she caught his eye.
The walk of shame ended at the copy machine, but the ridicule did not. The bullpen was the most open area of the suite of offices, and the copy machine was fully visible to at least 50 or 60 people. When Tiffany started tormenting Jennifer again, this time projecting in a full stage voice, there was a rapt audience.
"Maybe I should just turn that second document into a memo and send it around the company. What do you think? Who would have guessed that little miss goody two-shoes has fucked everything with a cock on the Eastern Seaboard? I'm sure you'd never have trouble getting a date again! Hell, you might even pick up a little money on the side spreading your legs. Sounds like you will probably need it. Receptionist doesn’t pay very well, but a girl like you… Well, you do know how to capitalize on your ass… excuse me… assets."
Jennifer started to react, but before she could get out a word Tiffany slapped her hard across the face, letting her long manicured nails scrape across flesh as she did so. Standing in a public space like this, people all over the office started laughing at the show. Tiffany looked around to be sure that she had everyone’s attention and then turned back to Jennifer.
“Give me your panties.”
The look on Jennifer’s face was astonishment, but she quickly cringed as Tiffany pulled her hand back as if to strike again.
“Hand me your panties. NOW!”
It was as if someone or something else had taken control of her hands. Inwardly Jennifer cried, “No! I won’t do this!” But outwardly she reached under her dress and started trying to scoot her panties down her legs as modestly as she could. Tiffany was having none of it.
“What the fuck are you doing? What part of eye candy don’t you understand, slut? Lesson one. When a whore removes her panties, she does it slowly, bending at the knees and letting her dress ride up nice and high so that the customers can get a good look at the merchandise.”
Jennifer paused, then began to comply. With her yoga-toned body it was no challenge to reach to her ankles with her slim legs straight and taut. She continued sliding the panties down slowly as directed. She was acutely aware when Tiffany grabbed her mid-length dress and tossed it up on Jennifer’s waist, leaving her bare cunt and ass on full display.
What made it even worse was Jennifer knew that she was wet. Tiffany certainly did not overlook the moisture or the way Jennifer’s labia had parted slightly.
“Hey, look everybody! Widdle Jenny-furs iddy biddy pussy’s all cweamy. Why is your widdle fucky-wucky hole all gushy, Jenny-fur?”
Jennifer just wanted it to be over, but Tiffany was just getting started. Jennifer stepped out of her panties and was about to stand up when Tiffany barked what was clearly a command.
“Stop! Stay down! Do you dare stand up! That’s a good girl. Now spread your legs!”
When Jennifer started to do so slowly, Tiffany kicked her legs into a broad open stance, almost knocking Jennifer off of her heels. The room filled with applause, whistles and catcalls. The office suddenly sounded like a strip club, with her as the main attraction.
It only got worse when Tiffany reached down and starting running her hands over the flesh of Jennifer’s thighs and cupping the curves of her ass cheeks. She had clearly done this before, and her touch showed it. In Jennifer’s already heighted state of arousal, that touch from a woman whose body and demeanor screamed “SEX!” brought a gasp and a quiet whimper.
Jennifer was crimson with shame, which only added to her arousal. She was sobbing uncontrollably, even as she began to move her hips slightly, trying unconsciously to push her ass into the other girl’s hand. When Tiffany skillfully parted Jennifer’s labia and lightly brushed a fingertip across her clit, she let out a deep, animalistic groan.
As Tiffany started to roll the girl’s clit between thumb and middle finger, Jennifer’s body began to shake uncontrollably. It was less than a minute before she gushed and screamed right at the edge of cumming. But instead of letting her ride the orgasm out, Tiffany stepped back and used her foot to shove Jennifer over onto the floor.
Standing over the girl lying broken on the floor, Tiffany looked around the office. “I have to apologize for Jennifer. These goddamn sluts they hire as receptionists these days. They just don’t understand about inappropriate behavior.” The room roared with laughter!
Tiffany stepped on Jennifer with her heel pressed into the girl’s tit and held her to the floor as she made the copies of Jennifer's fake but quite convincing confessions. All that Jennifer could do was try to hide her face and her tears of shame and sexual frustration as best she could. She obeyed without resistance when Tiffany kicked her and told her to stand up. Her mind was a blank as she followed Tiffany back toward the C-suite.
When they arrived back at Tiffany’s desk, Tiffany placed one of the copies in a locked cabinet beside her own desk. She buzzed Mr. Jameson, and when he responded she shoved Jennifer stumbling toward the door of the CEO’s office. Inside, Mr. Jameson again failed to give Jennifer even a nod of recognition as he opened a very secure looking wall safe and Tiffany placed the documents inside.
Seeing those documents go into the interior of the safe, Jennifer felt like her soul was being locked in that dark box as well. She wondered if she would ever get it back.
With formalities taken care of, Tiffany made a show of sniffing and making a sour face. "How many guys did you fuck last night, sweetheart? After that spectacle at the copy machine, I'm guessing that every guy in the place is already hard just from the reek of your cunt! Let's get you hosed off." Tiffany again made sure to speak loudly enough for those within earshot to hear and understand. By close of day, everyone in the company would know. By tomorrow word would have spread from one end of Wall Street to the other. As quickly as that, Jennifer’s career was over.
The shower and locker room that most female employees used was a far cry from the elegant women's lounge adjacent to the company gym. But the lounge was for female clients and traders, people like Jennifer used to be. Office girls were only allowed to use the locker room. The locker room was completely out of place in a modern office building. It felt more like a men’s room that you might find in a 1950’s vintage flophouse. It was a small room with an old tile floor, dingy walls, gray lockers along one wall, two toilets and one shower stall. Every surface was filthy. The room smelled like dried piss. It seemed unlikely that the place was ever cleaned. There were no walls around the toilets at all, and the shower stall had no door or curtain.
Tiffany walked into the room, leaned against the wall, lit a cigarette, and looked at Jennifer like a cat looks at a bird with a broken wing. Jennifer stood, hoping for Tiffany to leave, until Tiffany finally said, "Are you going to fucking shower or what?"
Tiffany wasn't going anywhere. The leer on her face said that she was enjoying the show, and had every intention of continuing to do so. Jennifer was struggling with a mixture of anger and desperation, and felt like going at Tiffany and tearing her eyes out! But as she looked at the taller more muscular girl, Jennifer also knew who would win a catfight, and what the consequences of her insubordination would be. So she finally began to undress. Even after what happened earlier, she still made an effort to protect herself from Tiffany's gaze.
As Jennifer removed her clothes she folded them with great care and put them on the seat of one of the toilets. In some way, that tidy stack of clothing represented the last remnants of her dignity. The way her clothes were stacked seemed like the only thing left in her life that she had any control over.
When she was nude Jennifer reached into the shower stall and turned on the water to let it warm up. She was taken unaware when Tiffany grabbed her from behind and shoved her immediately into the icy blast! She let out a loud gasp and shouted, "Shit! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! That's fucking cold!"
Tiffany laughed. "Am I supposed to care?"
All Jennifer could do was stand there with her arms wrapped around her body and shiver as she waited for the water to slowly warm. She watched sadly as Tiffany gingerly picked up the precious tidy stack of Jennifer's clothes using the tips of her fingers, as if she were holding a cockroach by its legs.
"I think we'd better send these to the incinerator, don't you agree?"
She unceremoniously tossed Jennifer's things into a pale filled with soiled tampons and pads. Then she opened a locker, apparently her own, and took out a bar of soap and bottles of shampoo and conditioner. Instead of handing them to Jennifer, she threw the toiletries on the floor of stall. Without really thinking about it, Jennifer bent over to pick them up, inadvertently giving Tiffany another nice view of her well-rounded ass. Tiffany gave an appreciative whistle.
"Yeah, I can see why every guy on the East Coast wants to tap that, and why most of them apparently have," Tiffany laughed. "Who knows, we might get to be 'friends' after all!"
Jennifer tried not to respond as she washed tears, sweat, and the residue of a dozen gushing orgasms off of her face and body. Then she turned to vigorously shampooing her hair. She scrubbed and scrubbed, but no matter how hard she tried it was impossible for her to feel clean. After a few minutes Tiffany threw a towel at her.
"I don't fucking have all day, cunt! Stupid little prima donna bitch. Get your worthless ass out of the shower and dry off!"
Jennifer hopped out of the shower quickly, trying to keep the towel from getting completely soaked, and did the best that she could to dry herself. When she asked about clothes, Tiffany looked at the wall of lockers.
"You can't wear that filthy garbage you wore in today. Let's see… There was a girl about your size who worked here as an intern a while back. I'm pretty sure that she got knocked up or killed or arrested or something. Anyway, she’s gone, but she left a bunch of clothes when she disappeared."
Tiffany used a master key to open another locker, dug through what was inside, and pulled out a few items. Jennifer could tell instantly that these clothes were never meant to be worn at work. When she took the offered dress (if you could call it that) and held it up, Jennifer's stomach knotted. The bright red dress was barely long enough to cover Jennifer's ass, and was actually cut to be higher in front. The dress was backless and hung open beneath her waste. When Jennifer put it on she could feel that the cleft of her ass cheeks was fully exposed.
The upper part of the dress consisted of a loop of fabric that split slightly below her waistline, with two 3-inch swaths that ran up around her neck. The dress was given shape by a black studded belt that was held together by a clasp in the form of a pair of handcuffs.
To the extent that it covered anything at all, the narrow band of fabric crossing over each of Jennifer's firm breasts only drew attention to the clear outline of her strangely hard nipples. The feel of the dress sliding over their sensitive tips was electric. She realized that it was impossible to keep her tits, pussy and ass all covered at the same time while wearing the skimpy piece of shiny, translucent fabric. Even the parts that were "covered" weren't really covered.
To be honest, she felt more naked wearing the dress than she had before putting it on. Nudity was nudity, but this! This was the kind of dress that a unabashedly slutty college girl might wear out clubbing, knowing that it wouldn’t be five minutes before some guy got the right idea and took her out in the back alley for a good hard fuck.
If anything, the shoes that went with the dress were even more outrageous! The red stripper heels were at least 8 inches high. They had cute little ankle straps with buckles in the form of heart-shaped padlocks. The words "Anal Girl" were spelled out in glitter on the side of each platform. Jennifer wasn't sure that she would be able to walk in them at all. When she glared at Tiffany and asked for something a little more practical, the other girl suggested that she get used to them.
“Listen, honey. Mr. Jameson likes that look. Don’t count on ever seeing the light of day again in anything under 7 inches. Trust me on this one.”
Tiffany doubled over in laughter when Jennifer asked about panties.
“Nobody ever told me that you are a comic. You’re hilarious!”
Jennifer was a little confused by the comments about Mr. Jameson's taste in clothes. She had assumed that the sexual objectification Tiffany was putting her through was just a way for the secretary to humiliate a woman who she had always loathed for her success. Now Jennifer wasn't so sure. She recalled all of Mr. Jameson's crude remarks from the day before and the entire nature of the sexual confession she had written. Despite her fantasies, the thought that he might actually expect her to fuck him some day was revolting. So revolting, in fact, that she couldn't help but notice that her cunt was again on fire.
Next came hair and makeup. It turned out that Tiffany had skill and practice with both. Using nothing but a brush and blow dryer, Tiffany coaxed Jennifer's hair into thick blonde waves that fell over her shoulders and down her back.
The make up that Tiffany applied was different than any that Jennifer had ever worn. Purple shadow on each eyelid was blended into black flairs on the outer corners, then used to line the underside of each eye. Champagne highlights covered her eyebrow ridges and tear ducts. Jennifer had thin, carefully plucked eyebrows that Tiffany made heavier and deep black liner, providing a sharp contrast to Jennifer’s blonde hair. The full, long false eyelashes were also black. Purple glitter completed the effect. The colors set off her natural brilliant green, giving her eyes a striking cat-like appearance.
The makeup on the rest of her face completed the look, right down to the gaudy blush highlighting her cheekbones. Tiffany outlined Jennifer’s lips in a dark purple-pink, filled in the outlines with a lighter shade, then added gloss. The final effect was over-the-top sexy. When Jennifer looked in the mirror, she did not recognize the face looking back at her. This was the kind of face you only saw in a strip club, in a porn video, or on a call girl in the bar of an upscale hotel. The only question a man would ever ask a girl wearing that face is, “How much?”
The pièce de résistance was the jewelry. Tiffany looped a long gold chain around Jennifer's neck several times, letting the loops fall down so that they drew the eye from her face to her breasts. A Penthouse Key pendant hung from the bottom of the chain. Charms of figures fucking in various positions were arranged along the length of the chain. There was a matching chain and pendant for her ankle. The earrings were enormous gold loops. To top it off, Tiffany tied a ribbon choker around Jennifer's neck, holding two gold rings in the form of entwined male and female sexual symbols against her throat.
Tiffany stepped back to look at her handiwork and smiled. "Mr. Jameson said that when we were done that I should take you out to the front lobby and let you get started on your new job. But looking at you, I'm beginning to wonder whether we are really done."
She took a step toward Jennifer, who backed up until she was against the wall. Tiffany followed, stepping in much too closely for social comfort. "So, are we done, sweetheart, or shall we spend a little time getting to know each other first?," Tiffany asked as she reached out and lightly brushed the back of her fingers over Jennifer's exposed cleavage. "But I'm not really asking the right part of you, am I? I’m pretty sure that by now everyone in the office knows what you do your thinking with. I think that we should let your cunt decide."
Tiffany found Jennifer's nipple through the fabric and began to focus her attention there, brushing back and forth, smiling as the nipple instantly jumped to attention.
"I'll tell you what. In a minute I'm going to run my hand down your body and slide my fingers between those sweet little legs of yours. If you are dry then I guess you aren't interested. I'll give you a nice jacket and shawl to wear over that dress, and I might even let you change your shoes. I'll show you to your new desk and that will be that."
"But if you are wet," the smiling girl continued, "then I guess we still may be have some business to attend to, after all."
With that, Tiffany slid 2 fingers inside the top of Jennifer's dress, and pinched the nipple hard! Jennifer whimpered, but was somehow frozen in place. Tiffany pulled the fabric aside then cupped the breast, bending forward to take it into her mouth. Biting, then lightly teasing, then biting again harder, Tiffany treated Jennifer to sensations she had never experienced before, even when she played with herself.
Tiffany slid the other hand down, reached around and grabbed Jennifer's ass and used it to pull her right thigh away from the wall. Then she spit in Tiffany's face and barked a command.
"Open your legs!"
Jennifer did not even think. She just did as she was told, obeying the command and sliding them apart. In response, Tiffany stepped over Jennifer's right leg, spread her own legs and positioned herself so that her pelvis rested against Jennifer's upper thigh. Then she lifted her own hem, pressed her bare cunt against Jennifer's smooth flesh, and began to slide up and down. With both hands on Jennifer's ass, Tiffany pressed harder, until she was humping and grinding her cunt against the leg.
Tiffany never broke eye contact as she reached up and firmly grabbed Jennifer's hair at the back of her head. When Jennifer moaned slightly, Tiffany leaned forward and covered Jennifer's mouth with her own. She ran her tongue over Jennifer's lips, then abruptly dug her long fingernails painfully into Jennifer's ass. When Jennifer opened her mouth in surprise, Tiffany slid her tongue inside and began to kiss Jennifer in earnest.
Jennifer tried to resist at first, but there was no denying that she was responding with both her body and her mind. As the darkness within her began to take control, Jennifer finally gave in and kissed Tiffany back.
The taste, feel, and smell of the other woman was almost more than Jennifer could endure. She did not smoke, and normally was repulsed by the smell. But now the tobacco smoke in Tiffany's hair and on her breath mixed with the scent of her vanilla perfume creating an aroma that reminded Jennifer of a college classmate who had worked at a strip club. This is what the girl smelled like when she showed up with a wad of cash, high and happy, with unbelievable stories to tell. This was the smell of dirty, raw, paid-for sex.
As the aroma filled her nostrils, Jennifer's body began to respond in earnest. She was not even consciously aware of it when she started to push her own hips forward, trying to find Tiffany's thigh with her own needy cunt. Tiffany didn't have to reach between Jennifer's legs to feel the slick wet cream that was now lubricating Jennifer's sex as she slid it up and down along Tiffany's leg, moaning as she did.
Tiffany laughed then stepped back and shoved Jennifer down onto her knees. "Jesus! There are a lot of tramps around this place, but you just might be the sluttiest of the bunch. Just can’t get enough, can you? No surprise I suppose." Tiffany then lifted her left leg and put her foot on a sink beside the two women. She grabbed Jennifer by the hair and pulled her face up until it was inches from her sex.
"You know what to do bitch!"
And she was right. Jennifer had never been with another woman, and had never really even seen another woman's vagina other than in pictures and videos. But she knew exactly what to do. It was obvious that Tiffany wasn’t looking for anything subtle, and was clearly getting off on the degradation. So Jennifer dove in. She instantly found Tiffany's opening with her tongue, then followed her slit up to the sensitive underside of Tiffany's clit.
Suddenly she was ravenous! Her lips closed and she sucked Tiffany's swollen, oversized clit into her mouth. "God, it's almost like a little cock," Jennifer thought as she sucked vigorously on the inch and a half long shaft, flicking her tongue back and forth over the tip of Tiffany's clit. Jennifer reached around and grabbed the other girl’s ass, pulling her forward and tipping her pelvis up slightly for better access. "Yes… yes… that's it… oh, you're good," Tiffany groaned as she thrust her hips rhythmically at Jennifer’s hungry mouth.
It took no time at all for Jennifer to put Tiffany over the edge. Tiffany pulled harder on Jennifer’s hair and ground into her, moaning and calling Jennifer an endless stream of degrading names. Then just before she came, Tiffany pulled out of Jennifer's mouth, just like men do in pornos. Jennifer reached down and shoved her hand between her own legs, and began fingering her cunt and stroking her clit with purpose as she watched Tiffany, knowing what was coming.
Tiffany’s orgasm hit her hard. As she massaged herself at a fevered pace, Tiffany screamed in ecstasy and began to squirt her cum on Jennifer. But squirt wasn't really the right word. Tiffany's orgasm let loose a deluge, spraying all over Jennifer's freshly made-up face and hair, and across her tits, drenching her dress.
Jennifer was on the edge as well, frigging herself relentlessly as she felt her release so very very close. But just as she was about to come, Tiffany slapped her hard across the face!
"Don't you EVER fucking think about coming without permission again, bitch! That means at home as well as here. You give good head, so I'll do you a favor and tell you a little secret without you having to learn it the hard way for yourself."
"If Mr. Jameson were to discover that you came without his permission, I hesitate to think what he would do. The one and only time that I slipped up, he beat the shit out of me. Then he sent me home without pay until the bruises and swelling had gone down enough for me to return to work. I had to earn back the lost wages sucking cocks on the street for $20 a pop.”
Jennifer looked at the other girl, stunned.
"But what business is it of Mr. Jameson's whether you come? Why would you let him do that? Why cooperate? Why didn't you just quit and turn him in?"
For the first time, Tiffany looked at Jennifer with some sympathy in her eyes.
"Oh, sweetie. I thought that you understood. Mr. Jameson owns me, just like he owns you now. If I tried to run I'd be looking at 30 to life for a third strike drug conviction, and he has connections on the inside that would make sure I didn't last nearly that long. As soon as I was too used up for the warden to whore me out, I'd end up in a dumpster somewhere with a skiv in my stomach and no clues about who put it there.”
“If Master sends you to prison, you are never going to see the outside again. He's depraved, honey. He’s a sadist, a sociopath. He could have either one of us raped and killed without it even costing him a good night's sleep! So when he tells me to do something, I do it. It doesn't matter how disgusting or horrible it is. I just do it."
“And listen. This is important. If you fuck up he will find out. Every minute of every day, wherever you are, for the rest of your life, you will be watched. Break a rule – even one that you didn’t know about – and you will pay."
When Tiffany saw the look of horror on Jennifer's face, she smiled. "Don't get me wrong. There is an up side. As long as I never say no, he takes good care of me. And to be honest… well, I always did kind of like it rough, if you know what I mean."
Jennifer still couldn't quite wrap her head around what she was being told. Tiffany’s sincerity touched her, and she thought perhaps someone would at last believe her.
"Listen, Tiffany. I didn't DO anything!!! Somebody set me up! This is all a mistake. Just a horrible, horrible mistake."
Tiffany laughed, any hint of sympathy gone from her face in an instant and replaced again by hard cruelty.
"Of course you didn't do anything, you stupid little bitch! Master set you up! You really are kind of slow on the uptake, aren't you? You put me through hell, cunt. When Master got worked up while he was framing you, he'd tie me up and take a bullwhip to my tits and cunt and rape me until he worked it out of his system. You can start taking your own fucking abuse from now on, whore!”
“I’m guessing that you’ll end up as one of the girls who just disappears and whose body is never found, like the little cunt whose clothes you are wearing. I really don’t give a shit. But I know that I’m going to enjoy watching whatever Jennifer used to be turned into whatever Master decides he wants you to be."
"And remember, I read those confessions that you wrote. Pretty goddamned convincing, I must say. At least I wasn't stupid enough to climb the gallows and put the noose around my own neck like you did!"
As Tiffany told Jennifer what Mr. Jameson had done, it suddenly all made sense. How stupid could she be? She should have seen what was happening from the first instant! Jennifer's rage consumed her! "That worthless fucking asshole! I'll go to the cops! I'll show him!" Her tirade was broken when Tiffany drove the pointed toe of her heels hard up into Jennifer’s exposed cunt!
Jennifer doubled over and puked all over the floor of the locker room. As she did, Tiffany bent close to her ear. It took Jennifer a moment to register what Tiffany was saying to her in a low voice.
“That’s the second favor that I did for you today, and it will fucking well be the last. Didn’t you hear what I said? We are being watched. Right now. With luck that kick in the cunt will satisfy Master and he won’t feel the need to punish you further. I hope that telling you to be careful doesn’t get me in shit!”
Tiffany stood up and laughed at Jennifer and raised her voice. "Thanks for the orgasm, by the way. I hadn't cum in a month. Master called while you were in the shower and told me that I could use you as long as I didn’t do any real damage. Be glad that he didn't give me two hours, or this would've gotten a lot more interesting! Another time. Turns out that I have a sadistic side, too. I'm going to get my own back from you, pig, I can promise you that!"
Then Tiffany looked at her watch and took on her own worried look. "Shit! I need to have you at your new desk in three minutes. That's something else to learn. Don't be late. Ever. For ANY reason. Let's go!"
Jennifer looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was smeared. Mascara mixed with Tiffany's spit and cum was running down her cheek from the corner of her left eye. Her hair was drenched, and disheveled in a way that made it perfectly clear what she had been doing. Tiffany's cum and remnants of her own vomit were all over her, dripping between her tits and leaving large wet spots down the front of the dress.
"I can't go out there looking like this!," Jennifer said in a panic. "I just can't! What will people think?"
This time Tiffany just smiled and responded in a calm, almost casual way.
"After that little display at the copy machine they already know that you are a whore. They will probably think that you just fucked your new supervisor to get a job, just like you’ve been doing ever since some guy first noticed that you had tits and an ass. They will probably think that Mr. Jameson caught you with your hand in the till and that you promised him you'd do anything for him not to turn you in. In other words, they will think exactly what Master wants them to think! Probably best that they learn now, anyway."
"Now get your ass to the front reception desk!”
Tiffany again grabbed Jennifer by the hair, yanked her arm behind her, and frog-marched her through the office toward the main reception desk. This time, people just stood up and applauded as they walked by, laughing as Tiffany told them that she was sure Jennifer was destined to become a very popular girl.”
When they came to the front of the office, Jennifer looked around, realizing that she had never really paid much attention to the face the firm presented to the world. The main reception desk wasn't really a desk at all. Instead it was a narrow modern-looking white table that stood about three feet high, held up by chrome columns on either end. There was no chair, and no privacy panel. Jennifer just had to stand behind it, her disheveled body and disgraceful get-up on full display not only to the office, but to anyone who happened to pass by in the hall outside.
If was not 15 seconds before one of the male traders – a guy who had been on the list of people that Jennifer had thought might have framed her – stepped up in front of her, looked her up and down, licked his lips and whistled.
"My, how the mighty have fallen! But that's okay. That desk is where you belonged in the first place. No more using your cunt to make juicy commissions off of fat, horny old men! Now you can use it to entertain us!"
Jennifer ignored the comment. The guy was an asshole anyway. What hurt was when a man who she had considered a close friend and confidant stepped up and joined in.
"Jesus, baby, why didn't you tell me? We've wasted a lot of time. I was going to go clubbing with Bill and Mark tonight, but we could just party with you instead. I'm sure that you'll give us the all-holes-open weeknight special and three for the price of one friends and family discount."
The room erupted in laughter as Jennifer just stood there shaking. When Tiffany turned to leave, Jennifer cried out to her, terrified of being left alone. "Tiffany! Wait! Where are you going? Don’t go yet. Please. You haven't even told me what I'm supposed to be doing!"
Tiffany looked back at her. "I'm sure that you'll figure it out, a smart girl like you. Just make the hell sure that you figure it out right! I'd hate for you to get on my bad side before you even get started."
With that, Tiffany walked away. Jennifer stood there, feeling like a newly slaughtered slab of meat hanging by a hook from the ceiling of a butcher shop. Over the course of the remainder of the afternoon former friends, colleagues and visiting clients stepped up to her desk alone or a few at the time. They all wanted to congratulate her on finally discovering her true place in the world.