He was slowly starting to regain consciousness. There were a few grunts, a couple of twitches of his limbs, but he was still a few minutes out of waking completely. There was still some time to prepare, to make herself presentable. It would not do to show up looking anything less than her best – which, she knew, looking at herself through the goggles of mild narcissism, was stunning.
Jen had donned a pair of tight black panties that rode high on her hips, and was currently fighting to fit her massive yet shapely JJ-cups into the matching black top that, when in place, would squish and lift her significant bosom, presenting it with maximum cleavage. As she grunted, trying to push both mounds into the small and shiny black cups, she kept an eye on the monitor on the desk, keeping her charge under observation.
With the top finally in place, her breasts spilling from the edges as though attempting to escape, she twisted her upper body from side to side, checking the fit and making sure the tight garb wasn’t uncomfortable. As she reached for her high heels, there was a single grunt emanating from the speakers. Time was running out.
Her captive, Mike, would soon awaken, finding himself in a strange, unfamiliar room of white walls and ceiling, with only a few cabinets furnishing it apart from a large flat-screen monitor mounted on the wall next to him, showing him the exact same image of himself that she was looking at now. Apart from the only door into the room, a prison-grade heavy slab of steel, the only other object present was the padded wooden X-frame he lay on, spread eagle, thick leather straps holding him down – four on each limb and another two across his chest and pelvis. He was not going anywhere.
Nor was he going to speak, the fat red ball-gag wedged in behind his teeth and locked around his head would make sure of that.
Jen could not help a wicked, close-lipped smile from forming on her crimson lips, their lusciousness accented by the rich lipstick she had applied half an hour ago.
Attaching the buckles of her slender heels around her ankles, she reached for a necklace with a gold and red heart that nestled just above her cleavage when she fastened it around her neck.
Here she had yet another man, restrained and awaiting punishment, at her private little business off both the grid and every map. She was hidden in plain view, closer than what anyone might believe, but none of her former prisoners had ever been able to point authorities to where they had been held. Not that they had tried, of course. They had all been warned that attempting any sort of reprisal for their unwilling incarceration would be detrimental to their reputations, as there were sensitive recordings of them that could, with the push of a button, be made available to the entire world via the Internet.
She wondered if her newest prisoner would try to blow the whistle when she was done with him. If he had the mental faculties to put two thoughts together after she had finished with him.
Mike’s secretaries, two lovely women by the names of Maria and Sandy, had approached her some months ago with their grievances. They were, to put it lightly, displeased with their boss Michael. While the pay was good and the hours reasonable at the research facility where they worked, they had grown excessively tired of his postponement of their pay raises and other various benefits, as well as being lax with their vacation days. Worst of all, they said, was that he constantly used the both of them for his own sexual gratification, without giving two shits about their own enjoyment. What was worse was not the sexual favours, they explained, but that what they were meant to receive in compensation for said favours were either late, or not what had been agreed upon beforehand.
Having suffered this man’s selfishness and arrogance for long enough, Maria and Sandy had pooled their resources and started researching ways to get back at him.
Which had led them to Jen, through vague breadcrumbs on the dark web. Here they had a woman in her prime, early 30s, who had made a business out of sexual torture and extortion. Paying her substantial fee after she was satisfied that the two secretaries were in fact serious buyers of her services, she had set things in motion to facilitate his kidnapping. She had people who did that for her, and as always it had to be fast, efficient and silent.
Therefore, after he had gone to bed last night, her “associates” had gone to work, grabbing the big boss-man from his private domicile, ensuring to leave no marks of forced entry or a struggle. There was no need for either, as they had found an open window to exploit, and a syringe had taken the fight out of him before he comprehended just what had happened.
So now he was here, in her clutches, yet he did not know it yet. He would soon enough as he fully woke, and she always relished first contact. She always wanted to be there when they woke up. Having finished dressing herself, she reckoned she had but a moment before he stirred to consciousness, finding himself naked and restrained. He would not find himself alone.
Taking a look at herself in the mirror, admiring her body, one she exercised daily, taking special care to do more routines aimed at tightening her ass and belly, she could not help but smile at the woman looking back at her with big, green eyes. Clad in all black classy lingerie – string panties and a top that was deliberately a little too small for her big cups – with her fiery hair in a ponytail that hung down to the middle of her shoulder blades, she decided she was ready.
Setting the computer to record everything that was about to happen, she sashayed out of the office and headed down to the cells.
Reality reasserted itself slowly for Mike, who was so groggy when he awoke he was scarcely sure he was still alive. Waking in a bright room tended to be unfavourable to anyone’s vision, so even the relatively soft glow of the ceiling lamps felt like needles stabbing his eyes.
Blinking, groaning, wondering why he felt strange in a way that was difficult to explain, his head lolled lazily from side to side. He needed to rub his eyes, clear them and the fog in his mind. He could use a glass of cold, rejuvenating water, and he needed to itch his thigh. Attempting to move his hands caused pressure around his wrists, above and below the elbow as well as close to the shoulder.
With a start and several panicked yanks, his mind brought to complete awareness as his fight or flight senses ignited like the powerful engines of a jet, Mike realized he was bound, and discovering it quickened both his pulse and his breathing like flicking a switch.
Attempts to free himself met with zero success, and he became aware of the straps on the rest of his body right after those holding his arms. All of his limbs were spread wide, and to make matters worse, he realized he was without a thread. That he wasn’t cold despite being naked was the least of his concerns at the moment.
Struggling and huffing, now becoming aware of something wide in his mouth that prevented him from speaking, he was about to give in to complete terror when his attention was captured to a large flat-screen mounted on the wall next to him. Cold shivers travelled up and down him as he realized he was looking at himself, filmed by a camera standing sentry on the opposite wall. A red light beneath the camera’s lens glared at him, saying without words that it was recording him.
Seeing himself like that did nothing to help ease his mounting dread, and he redoubled his efforts to break free of his bonds with equal amounts of success as before.
A creeping sensation of additional fear covered him like the tumbling snow of a violent avalanche as he remembered what had happened. Someone had broken into his house at night as he was about to go to bed. He had barely had time to register his two assailants, much less sound the alarm or actually do anything meaningful before they were upon him. He remembered a sharp pain in his neck preceding his lack of consciousness, and thinking about it, he was positive he had been drugged.
Drugged and kidnapped. Cold sweat was trickling through his pores. This did not bode well for him at all, and his mind was ablaze with trying to think of who might do this to him.
His senses were drawn to a noise like a digital keypad unlocking a door.
The door was heavy, that much was apparent not only from the industrial, steel look of it, but from the grating noise it made as it very slowly slid open. Through it stepped something that took Mike’s mind off his frightening predicament, if but for a moment.
Closing the door behind her, keying something on the panel next to the door, it locked tight, and nothing but the correct, six-digit code would open it. Turning towards him, Mike got a better look of her, his eyes betraying his base, male reaction.
Clad in exquisite black lingerie that did only a half-hearted job at covering her female parts – the large breasts looked as though they were moments from breaking the straps of the bra by their weight and size – sporting a delicious body that was as toned from regular exercise as it was curvaceous from the luck of the biological draw, the woman walked over to mike, slender, black heels clicking on the featureless floor.
Jen cursed herself that he had woken up before she had gotten here, but left the matter be, as he could not have been awake for more than half a minute. That was good enough for her; she had still been able to glimpse his initial, frightened confusion.
Standing in front of him, by his spread legs, he had to keep his head lifted to look at her. Despite himself, despite his situation and despite his instinct that this person was dangerous, his gaze landed on her cleavage, a golden heart on a gold chain crowning it, and stayed there. She smelt sweetly of perfume as well.
“Eyes up here, Michael,” the woman said disapprovingly, her voice stern like a Madame at an all-girls’ school.
Looking up, he decided her big green orbs were equal parts enthralling and threatening.
“See, this is part of why you are here, little pig. You have a hard time focusing on what matters. You tend to ‘forget’ your obligations when pretty women are around, don’t you?”
Mike was flabbergasted, not knowing what to say – not that he could say anything with the big gag in his mouth.
“Would you agree, Michael, that you are a tad too concerned about what your employees can do for you, particularly what they can do to that thing between your legs, rather than what you owe them?”
Still he could not think of what to say. Still he had not the ability to say anything.
“Well, lucky for you,” she said, starting to slowly circle the padded X-frame, her hips swaying sensually without having to exaggerate the motion. “Your lovely secretaries has paid for you to have a little visit with me, hiring me to give that thing between your legs more attention than it can handle.”
Confused, he was not able to wrap his head around how Maria and Sandy, his secretaries for many years, could be involved in this. He tried to speak, desperate and afraid, though the gag rendered most of his words unintelligible.
“Shh, little boy,” the woman said, standing behind his head now, giving him an upside-down view of her half-naked, gloriously feminine body. Breasts that big were not an everyday occurrence to behold. “You’re not required to speak, hence the gag. You’re not required to do anything, nor are you allowed to leave, hence the restraints.”
Despite her words, he insisted at his attempts at communication, and now he also tried to fight against the straps. She suppressed a smirk, keeping her expression neutral, disinterested. He didn’t need to know how amusing first contacts with her prisoners were to her.
“No, no, no, Mike, be quiet. You’re in no position to disobey me, lest you invite my less cordial nature.”
This stilled him. There wasn’t much menace in her honeyed tone, but there was enough of it that he knew he had to take her seriously.
“As I said,” she resumed walking around him, and he was helpless not to land his eyes on her shapely ass when it was presented to him. “Your lovely secretaries have a bone to pick with you. Even though the ‘terms’ of their employment is strictly consensual, they grow tired of your selfishness and your postponed and/or broken promises.”
She stopped in front of him again, crossing her arms in front of her, lifting her sizable bust with her lower arms when she did. “Isn’t it true, Michael, that you’d rather have your cock sucked than do the paperwork necessary for their long overdue promotions? Isn’t it true that you’d rather bend them over and rail them instead of taking a measly phone-call to facilitate their pay raise? And isn’t it true, pathetic little boy, that even though your loyal secretaries bend over backwards for you, drop to their knees for you whenever you ask and do the things that drain your balls, that you couldn’t give two shits about their enjoyment? Have you once given them an orgasm?”
She leaned closer, and Mike had to fight to keep his eyes on hers, not on her cleavage. “Trick questions, of course. I know all the answers.” She straightened, putting her hands on her back, puffing out her chest. “So that’s why they hired me. I’m Jen. And I’ve been paid to punish you. Severely, and at lenght.”
He did not like the sound of her words. Did not like the implications. So what if he took a few liberties with his secretaries for his enjoyment, the terms for employment had been clear from the outset. As compensation, they earned a paycheck that was at least three times as much as any common secretary could hope to earn. True, he was a little behind on his promises, but he fully intended to honour them. He’d just been swamped lately with his work, his meetings and his, ah, female interns with a similar lack of scruples so long as they got money for their efforts.
He tried to speak, tried asking why she was doing this, what she was going to do.
Now Jen smiled, but it was a chilling grin that told him he was in deep trouble. “Eager to get started, are you? Well, who am I to deny you. Let’s begin.”
Taking a step closer so that she was standing between his spread legs – the X-frame was elevated enough so that Mike was about level with Jen’s lower abdomen – Jen placed her slender fingers on his inner thighs and slowly pushed them up on him towards his crotch.
Deliberately avoiding his slumbering manhood, her fingers trailed past and up his belly, almost all the way up to his chest, before the fingers went back down, now with the nails scraping his skin. He winced, though it was more surprising than painful, yet her freshly painted red nails made shallow scrapes on him. Passing his crotch again, Jen was so close to brush against his balls with the sides of her index fingers as she guided her nails down his thighs, causing him to jolt.
Jen, giddy despite appearing composed and calm, had planned how to start working on Mike, but she also had to play most by ear, reacting to his reactions and getting a sense of his body’s tolerances. Her clients, Maria and Sandy, had described some of his weaknesses, but the secretaries’ knowledge of their boss’ body was only useful if she meant to submit to him like they did and make him orgasm. That was not why she had been hired, nor was it anything she would ever lower herself to do. Many men needed to learn that women were superior to them, and there was no better way to do that than use their manhood and their urges against them, turning their testosterone and manliness against them. Like this, she had reduced countless victims to drooling, weeping messes, bereft of their masculinity in the face of her overwhelming feminine wiles.
That’s why her services were so sought after, that’s why she was so expensive. Once a man was secured in her cells, they would not leave until her clients were satisfied the man had been taught a lesson that would wake him from sleep for the rest of his life.
And like all men, Mike was nothing special. Her body, covered so little by her scant lingerie, her gorgeous face, her long and luscious hair, her delicate fingers barely touching his skin, was having the desired effects.
For like all men, despite being kidnapped and restrained and helpless, these things and the feminine aura that seemed to seep from Jen like a mist, caused his pathetic cock to stir.
“Do you like that, hmm?” she asked, sending her fingers on another exploratory journey upwards, using the soft tips rather than the nails again. “You shouldn’t. You should work very hard not to get an erection. Once you do, you’re in a world of trouble.”
This gave him pause, but it still was impossible to keep his body from reacting. Her caresses, though with a bitter, mocking aftertaste, coupled with her sexy demeanour and alluring fragrance of perfume was filling the blood vessels of his nether regions.
Jen stepped back and walked over to his side. She grabbed the back of his head and yanked his head back with strength he found surprising in such a gorgeous woman. Leaning in real close, dangling her breasts that still tried to break open the teensy little bra in his face, Jen’s other hand caressed his belly for a little bit, then drew the hand up his torso until she found a nipple. Flicking it, circling it and gently pinching it, she whispered to him, “You really should try to control yourself. I mean it, once you’re hard for me, you’re fucked.”
Whimpering, powerless to resist as well as helpless to get away, for the first time in his life he was starting to feel fear at the rising of his dick. He had no idea what this woman, Jen, was planning, but he believed her when she told him he ought not get hard. But he was getting hard, already it was halfway done with its upward journey, engorging on the way.
She made it a point of professional pride to never actually touch a prisoners’ cock until they were already hard. She also always warned them not to get hard. That way, their inevitable defeat would taste oh so much sweeter to her.
She walked around to stand by his head again, tickling both of his nipples with her fingertips now, standing bent forward in such a way that no part of her was touching his head, yet keeping her breasts perilously close to it.
She could see he was struggling and fighting. Not to free himself, but to keep his erection from completing, yet he was failing miserably. The biggest clue she had gotten from his secretaries that she could actually use in her torture was his sensitive nipples, and by constantly toying with them like a lover might, she knew he would be completely hard within moments. Still he fought it, to her great amusement, a thin coat of sweat appearing on his naked, exposed body.
Whinging, straining against his bonds through a subconscious belief that he might yet be able to free himself, close to crying with fright, his cock completed its journey while Jen caressed his nipples, straining and pulsing.
“And there it is,” Jen cooed. Straightening, she walked over to one of the cabinets.
Mike huffed, desperately wishing his erection down. Looking around for anything or anyone that could help him, acting on sheer desperation rather than on anything tangible, he caught a look of himself once more on the big monitor on the wall, and the helpless state of his naked, erect self was the most deplorable thing he had ever before seen in his life.
Returning from the cabinets with a few items in hand, Jen rested a dark purple bottle with a white cap on the frame Mike was bound to, the bottle sitting precariously halfway over the edge, as there was not more room for it to stand on. The other items, he saw, were two black zip-ties. Locking eyes with her again, he found her smiling at him for the first time, and the sight nearly stopped his heart, for there was no sweetness in it.
Deftly and without hurting him, she tightened the zip-ties around his erection, one around his shaft and ballsack, the other just around the ballsack. The ties were tight but not uncomfortably so.
“There,” Jen said with smug satisfaction when the zip-ties were in place and sufficiently tightened. “I told you that shouldn’t let your dick grow hard. Now you’ll find that it literally can’t get soft again.”
Blood flow to the cock was something fascinating to Jen. If you slowed down the rate of which blood left the penis by applying pressure to the outer vessels meant that, scientifically, it wouldn’t be able to lose its erection again. This was, naturally, dangerous over time, but Jen was in control of his physiology as well as his body. When she had to take them off to prevent permanent injury she would, but she would not be wanting for time.
“Now we can begin your punishment,” she said derisively, popping open the cap of the bottle she had brought.
Mike was terrified. He didn’t know what the woman wanted with him. Coupling that with the fact that he had no means of escape or calling for aid made the ordeal even worse.
Pouring from the bottle, excessive amounts of heated lubrication that felt great on his cock soon coated it from tip to balls, making it twitch in anticipation. Setting the bottle aside, Jen took a very gentle hold of his hard member with her soft fingertips, raising it upright, letting the viscous, clear liquid run down it.
Moving her eyes from his throbbing manhood to his frightened eyes, Jen licked her crimson lips. “I am going to torture the fuck out of you.”
Saying that, causing his already elevated alarm to rise even further, she began stroking his cock, making him release a surprised groan of pleasure. Unsure of what was going on, with all her talk of punishment, she was giving him a handjob. In retrospect, that she wanted him erect and coated him with lubrication did indicate something sexual, and yet he was taken aback by the fantastic feeling of her hand gripping his slick dick.
The confused gagged groans of delight escaping between his lips and gag made Jen laugh, a witch’s cackle of ill omen. “You still have no idea what you are in for,” she warned.
Her free hand reached up and reacquainted itself with his hard nipple while she jerked his cock, keeping her strokes firm but slow. Mike was overwhelmed by his situation, not knowing what to think. In fact, it was hard to think at all. With everything that had happened since he woke, with everything he had felt, now feeling his male member being massaged by a woman who clearly was very good at it caused him no small bit amount of mixed feelings. Additionally, he was unable to keep himself from groaning. It was as though his captor had taken away the control of his body in addition to its capacity for movement.
His hardness felt great in her hand. They always did. It was a power trip without equal for her to have a man’s erection at her mercy, and she knew she was a master at stimulating them. But she did so much more. Her victims never noticed it, but she was using her fingertips to chart the small muscles in the cock, sensing the minute throbs and movements. It was a technique she had honed for years in order to achieve perfect control over a man’s pleasure, so that at no point would she accidentally touch him too much.
She left his nipples for now. Switching the hand that was giving him the handjob, it went down to cup and cradle his testicles, the fingers using the lubrication spread over them to gently rub and caress them. This produced another series of moans from her helpless captive, making her panties moisten even more than they already were.
Doing it slow like this, never varying the pressure but being persistent and unwavering, might at her victim’s first glace seem like just a slow build-up towards orgasm, but what Jen in fact was doing was create certain expectations in her prisoner’s mind and body, making them want orgasm even though, in their situation, they didn’t want an orgasm. It was another sinister and underhanded way of turning the victim’s body against itself; another instrument of torture in her proverbial arsenal of men’s suffering.
After a few minutes, her captive was less concerned about his imprisonment and more concerned about the sensations she forced upon his zip-tied cock. Forgetting all about the trouble he was in, pleasured moans was starting to pour from Mike as though he had both Sandy and Maria kneeling in front of him, slobbering on his meat like they did so well together. Despite the slow strokes, assisted by her deft fingers rubbing his balls, he was approaching the precipice.
The rational, logical side of him wanted to prevent orgasm at any cost. He did not want to give this woman that satisfaction. In fact, he had to hold back until he worked out some kind of way to loosen the straps and fight back. This woman would be in a world of trouble when he managed to loosen his restraints, and his secretaries? If they actually were party to this travesty that was befalling him they, along with Jen, would pay dearly. There would not only be jail time in their foreseeable future, there would be significant lawsuits up their admittedly firm asses as well.
His rational, logical side was not in control, however. His desire and lust was, and they had been screaming for several minutes that they wanted to get off, to shoot their load all over their captor as he drowned in stupendous pleasure and orgasmic bliss.
Seeing his confliction emotions made Jen’s mouth water. It was like partaking of a particularly savoury vintage, one that was so expensive one was never sure one could afford to open the bottle. She opened such bottles every time her victims approached orgasm, however. And her wine rack was filled to the rafters.
Sensing the tension in his cock, and particularly in that one particularly telling muscle in his perineum that told her he was getting close, Jen, through firm strokes and her thumb rubbing his frenulum, brought him to the edge.
Mike’s entire body flexed, every muscle rigid against his restraints, the breath catching in his throat as he prepared for the eruption, like it or not. But Jen ceased all stimulation, simply putting his dick down like discarding a toy she wasn’t interested in playing with anymore.
At first, he wasn’t sure what was happening. He was still in limbo, awaiting the blissful release of his testicles and the monumental bodily pleasure that would wash over him like the tide lapping a beach.
Nothing happened.
Releasing his pent-up breath, his body still confused, he whined long and low, his body suddenly jerking as though he was trying to fuck the hand that was no longer holding him in order to get himself off. Realizing nothing was happening, he tried complaining through the gag, although he didn’t fully understand why. He didn’t want this woman to force an orgasm from him, right?
“That was just the first one,” Jen said, raising an eyebrow, looking down at him like a janitor might eye a spill of urine at the very end of his shift.
He made a noise to signify he didn’t understand what she meant. She seemed to hear what he was asking.
“I told you, I’m going to torture you.” She leaned a little nearer, noticing how his eyes yet again dipped to drink in her mega-cleavage. “What, did you think I meant torture by applied pain? No, no, no, silly boy.” She straightened, putting her arms behind her. “What I’m gonna do to you is going to be far worse than that, and without causing you any pain at all.”
She gripped his cock with one hand, still slick with lubrication, the other resuming the attack on his nipples. Jerking quickly, she brought him back to the edge within seconds and, like before, let go of him a mere pump away from making him cum.
“See?” she said unemotionally after he had finished moaning, robbed of another forced orgasm his mind didn’t want but his body demanded.
Panting, moaning, trying to scream, to call for help, his sweaty body shivered, but not from any cold change in temperature.
Jen held up her lube-slick hand, a few drops of pre-cum mixed in with the rest, rendering it invisible. “This. This is all that is needed to reduce you to a snivelling little child. A woman’s hand, a woman’s touch, a woman’s cunning. Believe me, you haven’t begun to suffer yet. Your secretaries paid me to make sure you’ll learn your lesson. For once, you’ll find yourself in a sexual situation that will leave you without a single climax.”
She leaned closer again, one hand gripping his head, the tug making him wince. “You hear me? I’m not going to let you cum.”
She leaned closer, whispering directly into his ear. “Not. Even. Once.”
Returning her attention to his manhood, she poured more lube onto it, taking great pleasure in his whimpers and protests. It seemed he was trying to bargain with her. She was fairly confident she made out the words “double”, “money” and “release”. She pretended not to understand him. There wasn’t enough money in the world he could offer her that would make her turn her back on the deal she had made with his secretaries.
“Save your strength, little boy.” She began rubbing a single finger on the sensitive spot under his cockhead, the other hand gently massaging his shaft. “If you wear yourself out now, after a paltry two denied orgasms, how will you have any strength left in you after ten? After twenty?”
Again, a shiver made its journey down Mike’s spine. Surely the woman was not serious.
Teasing him like this, giving him a little respite from being forced to the edge of orgasm yet getting no break from being stimulated, Jen tortured his cock long and well, until thick ropes of pre-cum – proof of his defeat – oozed out of him with regularity. Mixing the pre-cum in with the lube, Jen suddenly gripped his cockhead and, using quick, hard pumps, her palm only moving up and down the very tip of his erection, soon had her prisoner at the edge again. She released his cock as before, and was rewarded by a symphony of desperate moans.
Immediately, giving him no chance to catch his breath, she moved around so that she could stand between his legs. Squatting down a little, she pushed his oil slick dick into her cleavage. The bra held her breasts so tightly together she didn’t need to use her hands. Instead she could employ her hands on his nipples again, having only to move her upper body up and down a little to stroke his throbbing, begging cock. It took all of six strokes of her big, soft breasts to bring him to the edge again, at which point she stopped moving her tits but not the fingers playing with his nipples.
Positively howling with need, trying his best to buck his hips into her cleavage in order to get himself off though being unable to move at all, a single sob escaped Mike much to his chagrin, and much to Jen’s delight. Hearing the sound, she could not help giggling.
After a few seconds, she edged him again with her tits. Then she stopped for a few seconds, then used her tits on him again, all the while expertly taking him as close to orgasm as possible without letting him accidentally cum. She was too good for that.
Raising back up, his cock slipping from her soft womanflesh and releasing his nipples, she used both hands on his dick to rapidly take him to the edge and, using just the right amount of pressure and miniscule motions, kept him at the edge for close to half a minute, holding him there with impossible perfection without letting him blast or lose sensation. All the while she made him cry out as his breathing and pulse quickened, until he sounded like he had run a marathon with a broken ankle.
Ceasing all stimulation, Jen abruptly moved over to the cabinets, leaving Mike to complain with desperation and a powerful need for stimulation. She found a towel and dried the lube off her hands.
“I’m recording you, by the way,” Jen said, opening a drawer, but Mike had already surmised that – he had just forgotten it in the heat of the moment. “I’m actually streaming this live, as well. We have an audience.”
This made Mike’s head snap towards her, fear and shock evident on his sweaty face.
“No it’s true,” Jen smiled evilly. “Want to say hello?”
She hit a button on a remote, and the image on the big monitor that previously showed Mike and Jen in the cell changed. His heart dropped when he saw Maria and Sandy, his secretaries, smiling smugly at him.
CHAPTER 2
So it was true. At first, Mike didn’t know what to think. His earlier vengeful thoughts regarding his secretaries and their alleged involvement in his kidnapping was as lost to him as a blade of grass carried away by the wind.
At some level he had just not believed what Jen had been telling him. That his trusted secretaries of many years would do this to him was just that unthinkable, even though there had been nothing wily about the way Jen said it, and despite conjuring up suitable punishments for the two of them, the way he reacted when he actually saw the two of them, leering at him through the big monitor on the wall, made him realize deep down that a part of him had simply not wanted to believe it was true.
Sitting behind a desk of sorts – he was not sure where they were, they were most assuredly not at the office – in a dimly lit room that obscured everything behind them, Maria was on the left, Sandy on the right.
Maria, in her early fifties yet youthful and attractive for her age, was wearing a white suit jacket that sported an impressive amount of cleavage – just as he wanted them to dress for him at work. Her neck-long brown hair flared at the bottom, looking silky as though recently washed. Her brown eyes leered at Mike, somehow showing more smug satisfaction than her crimson-shaded lips.
The younger of the pair in her late thirties, Sandra looked less self-assured than her colleague, but she, too, appeared enveloped by pleased haughtiness. Her dyed blond hair showed a little hint of her natural, darker colour at the roots, the tresses spilling down just past her shoulders. Her pretty, pale green eyes looked at him, and where her gaze usually contained an air of professionalism – even when she was on her knees in front of him – they now seemed conflicted between giddiness and worry. A green suit jacket covered her, the cleavage as unashamed as Maria’s.
“Are you enjoying the show so far, ladies?” Jen asked suavely, having put the remote down and made her way to stand on Mike’s opposite side so as not to block their view of him through the security camera, nor his view of the screen.
