My father’s partner was running for Governor of the State, but my father had a way to take over the company…
Honestly, there was no reason that it had to be me, but I wanted to help. I hated his CFO, he was a pig, and some part of me just loved the plan. It was right out of a spy movie, or a comic-book.
Only instead of Batman breaking into Wayne Tower, and getting evidence against William Earle, he sent Catwoman, Barbara Gordon, or Talia Alghul. Not that I was really into comic books, my brother has a collection. Mint condition, the valuable ones framed in secure bulletproof glass so they couldn’t be stolen.
As an “Investment,” as if anyone would break into his apartment to steal those, instead of the bearer bonds in his safe. (Behind a Matisse, also framed behind bulletproof glass, with censors to tell Security that someone was getting into the safe.) I grew up ignoring him, tuning it out whenever he ran into my room, excited with childish glee to tell me what Batman did this time.
IDKY I was thinking of that, sitting onstage, at my father’s side of the table. The CEO, shaking hands with his CFO. Joking about him running a city and a Fortune 500 company at the same time. “Well,” he turned to the microphone, and the cameras to flash a rakish smile. “I haven’t won yet.”
A round of applause, and some questions from the press. It wasn’t a press release, but reporters were invited, black tie, and cocktail dresses. I rolled my eyes boredly, but none of the attention was on me. The security guys also in tuxedos, but they put away their metal detector wands, and the reporters wrote their notes by hand. “Can I quote you on that?” In pencil, without erasers held on by metal cuffs.
He’d had death threats, and plenty of enemies. Political, and Financial, legal, and criminal underworld. He said “You don’t get where I am without stepping on a few toes,” but that was just doubletalk for having help, from the mob. Another reason why it had to be me was that this wasn’t my party. I didn’t even have to be here, so nobody really payed any attention.
I’m not a model, like my younger sister. I’m not dating a pop star, from a boy band, and arguably the cutest of the 5, before they broke up for solo careers. I don’t get followed by paparazzi, and my one stalker was taken care of. Quietly, in-house, but finally the wait staff came out with champagne buckets, and flutes carefully balanced on serving trays. So, we could mingle.
“Deborah!”
“Uhn!” I stopped and forced a smile. “What are your thoughts on this,” pencil poised over a note-pad, the top pages flipped up, without a spiral because that would trigger the metal detectors.
“My thoughts are on the lady’s room.” I stepped sideways to the door, and pulled the handle. Fortunately, a male reporter, in a rental tux, white collar shirt, and black bowtie. “If you’ll excuse me, I already had a little too mush bubbly.” I smiled shyly, and threw in a little slur. Slipping in, and letting the door closed. “Huh!”
I relaxed, and straightened up. Checked my hair, and makeup in the mirror. Smoothed the draped folds of my cocktail dress over the square envelope taped to my tummy, and made sure it didn’t print through the almost shear silk satin. Fortunately, he moved on to someone else in the party before I came out, and made my way over to the stairs.
The keypad, [7438] I looked back over my shoulder, and slipped through. Unbuckled my heels while it swung closed slowly on the automatic mechanism, so it latched quietly, then carried them up 2 flights. To the biometric scanner, I took my glasses off, and held my face carefully at the focal point to read my iris.
Down the hall, top floor to one of the corner offices. One of the 2 largest corner offices, and being the CFO, he’d furnished it garishly. Gold everywhere, black Jaguar skin rug hanging on one wall, antique ebony desk without a single scratch on it, large enough to clear off, and play billiards on.
Despite the fact that I never really cared for all this comic-book stuff, come on. He’s one of those wealthy “Eccentrics.” Meaning he’s a badguy, a villain, his super-power is money, and mob connections, but he’s the kind of fat balding middle-age men that hangs a black panther (Jaguar, South American Panther) on his wall like a tapestry, and nobody else sees it.
“Huh!” I unzipped the side of my dress, and slipped my hand it, to carefully pull at the tape. Coming around to the back of the desk, I pulled a string out of the high neck, and gripped the plastic key I had made. Snapped it with a jerk, and unlocked the cabinet on one side. Opposite deep wide drawers on the other, I sat down, and hit the Power button on the computer. The DVD-R/W to pop it out, and unwrapped the disk from the envelope.
IDKY the aluminum layer didn’t set off the metal detectors, but I almost had a panic attack. Instead of taping it over the small of my back, with my hair up over the deep scoop of the backless dress. So, I couldn’t wear a bra, but honestly, I entertained myself with sports. Marathons, Triathlons, I wanted to be an Olympic gymnast when I was younger, simply because of how graceful, and impressive they were, watching the Olympics.
So, my body is athletic, fit, too short, and plain-faced for modeling. Never had any interest in dance, singing, playing the piano, nor other artistic pursuits, but I don’t have any illusions about my life, and privilege. I was a Debutante, now I’m a Dilettante. I need never work, because I have millions in my portion of the children’s Trust, I could spend it on college, but what degree do I need for my career?
An MBA? I can afford the best CPAs to manage my assets. I’m not getting the Company, I have an older brother for that. I always liked Action, sports, fast cars, my boyfriend is a racing driver, and I love him for that, but this.
“Huh!” I memorized the pathway. Don’t ask where my father found out where it’s hidden, but his partner isn’t connected to the network. This computer is isolated from the company LAN, the Internet, or any other device in the building. It doesn’t even have a USB port.
Unfortunately, he’s careful to hide behind a mask. Of course, he’s got a costume, with a built in girdle, and a black hood with eyeholes, but it doesn’t cover his mouth. Just down to his nose, his hair around the bald patch on top. A fake beard and everything, but I had to find one, in particular.
He used prostitutes, but I focused on the male ones. A sex scandal is a sex scandal, but here’s a good one. A big musclebound body builder, or weight lifter of some sort. Chained up to a pipe, his broad back fanned out so that the wings of his deltoids stretch his shirt. The man in the black mask followed around by a cameraman.
I think this is the one, but I have to make sure, and honestly. Seeing a big strong man handcuffed like this. His shirt being unbuttoned, and pulled up. The sick bastard’s hands all over the muscles, and feeling around his hips. Undoing his pants, and pulling them down…
“Huh!” I held down the [>>] button to skip past the lube, the sodomy, and let it play when he pulled out.
“UHN!” Loudly, the cameraman panning up to the muscleboy’s face. “You fuck so good.” Eyes squeezed tight, and mouth wide open, panting while the cameraman panned down slowly. Lovingly under his arm, a closeup of a hard nipple in the shadow of his body, and “Bingo.”
The mask pulled up. The sick bastard just had to have a facial. The cameraman gripping, and pumping the (Smallish) erection, but he wanted it on his face. Not on the mask, not even on the fake beard, which had come off, but I hit [PrintScreen] Paused it, and switched to [Save to Disk] with a back click. Then slipped my arm out, and leaned back. Put my feet up on the desk, and my hand down my underwear. Still inside the dress. So close, I can almost taste it, but it wasn’t just the sexual action.
That man, honestly, his tastes were expensive, but god he was Gorgeous! Perfectly proportioned, I’m going to say some sort of bodybuilder. If he was just going for strength, he would bother to get every muscle to match both sides. Especially on the back, his buttocks, thick shaved thighs, the boxy bulges in his calves above the tight pants, and jock strap pulled down around the ankles.
Then, the light came on.
“Huh?”
“What are you doing in here? Show me your hands!”
“Huh!” So close, I slipped my arm out of the open side of my dress. Glanced down, and saw the light flashing in the DVD-RW, the bar on the popup reading: [Imprint complete.] “What’s it look like I’m doing?” Feeling up the front with my big toe, and pushing the eject button on the disk reader/writer. “Do you know who I am?” I shook my head, belatedly realizing that my hair was up. Out of my face, and my glasses slipped down. “My father owns this building.”
“Well, this isn’t your father’s office.” One of them let go of his gun, and reached up to his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he talked into his sleeve. “We can handle this, no need for backup.”
I don’t know how I’m going to get the disk out of the tray without dropping it on the floor. Scratching it, or somehow ruining the incriminating image. I could have gotten away with it, if I hadn’t stopped to masturbate, but I knew I had him dead-to rights.
“We’re going to have to Escort you out.” The other guy looked at his partner, with a sneer to see if he got the joke.
“Just let me grab my shoes.” The envelope on the floor, tape side down, so I could possibly get it under my dress again.
“Hands where we can see them.” They split up, came around the desk, and covered me with their guns.
Somehow, strangely. I’d never had guns pointed at me before but I didn’t feel any fear. A little angry with myself, for letting this happen instead of just leaving, and masturbating with the image. The Dirty old man unmasked, with a stripe of semen over his nose, and splatted on his forehead. Another arching beautifully, and glistening from the light on the camera, the cameraman’s gloved hand stroking off the muscular homosexual prostitute, and the knowledge that I had him. I won, only to lose it to a stupid dirty impulse.
“Holy shit!”
“Is that who it looks like?”
“Yes. Since you asked what I’m doing here. I’m masturbating to your boss having sex with men, and getting a facial.” I tucked the evidence in, and smoothed the tape behind my back while they weren’t looking, then hit the Power button with my toe. “Huh!” I zipped up the side, and stood up. “So, aren’t you going to Escort me out?” They holstered their guns, and took my arms, but I wasn’t resisting. I wasn’t fighting back.
“I knew he had hookers over, but did you know he was bisexual?”
“None of your business, and none of mine, either.”
“Look guys. I know you have a job to do.” Waiting for the elevator, “But maybe you want to take a little break?” They didn’t handcuff me, so I felt up the front of their legs. Their hard muscular legs, and slipped my hands in their pockets.
“You know where he takes them?” The that knew their boss had prostitutes, but not Male prostitutes.
Mr. None of our Business shook his head, grinning as I felt something hard inside the black dress pants of his Tuxedo. “The prostitutes?”
I turned to the other one, who nodded. “Yeah, you want to see it?”
“His dungeon? Oh yeah.” Too bad they wore protective cups. So, I slipped my hands back out when the elevator doors opened silently.
“Come on,” he took my arm, “This way.” His partner caught up, but they let me go. Immediately, after we decided to take a break. In the executive dungeon, on the top floor of course.
Like practically any high-rise commercial building, the best offices have windows. The corner offices 2 walls of windows, and the peons are buried in the interior. The lower levels, the maze of cubicles in 1 large room full of people typing, and talking on the phone. The board rooms empty, if you wanted to grab one, lock the door, and strip down to lay back for a good hard quickie.
I’m in my early 20s, I skipped college, I have plenty of money, and time. No job, a lot of hobbies, most of them active, and a boyfriend. He’s not going to believe this, but we don’t have to use the cameras. Real professional ones, you see pointed at reporters like bazookas outside of press vans at briefings. Set up on a table, in a small room, somewhere near the center.
Looking up, there’s a fan overhead. Some sort of shelter with vents out the sides, pipes, and ducts all over the walls, wiring, control boxes with lockout tags, and a cabinets.
Full of restraints, whips, pleather costume pieces, sex toys, an ECT machine, portable Stowe Defibrillator, first aid kits, a coiled up hose with a valve, an axe, and break glass in case of fire box. Industrial, private, most people don’t even think about the army of men that keep a building like this running. Just the plumbing, electricity, and especially the air.
“Well, why don’t you guys get out of those utility belts?” I turned, and unzipped the side of my dress. I don’t know if they’ll let me out of here, with the evidence taped to my body, but maybe if I give them a reason to overlook this little lapse of security. Sexual espionage. “Your protective cups.”
“Want us to use our handcuffs?” One of them is younger, but willing with a dirty little grin he’s not even trying to hide. That I’m gonna get laid grin.
“No, that’s all right. Either of you have condoms?”
The one that didn’t want to admit that he knew about his CFO’s more… Homosexual tastes stopped unbuttoning his fly, and went over to a steel cabinet.
“Of course.”
;
Debby (MMF)
“AH AH AHN NGH!” Finally I clamped down, and spasmed. Let my head fall, the wisps of hair torn from the tight twist to stick to my sweaty face, and neck. “Whooh, ooh!” I felt down his shoulders, the thick firm slabs of muscles, and his biceps holding my legs firmly. “Huh, you can let me down now.”
They had to pull out of me, front and back and hold me up until my knees were strong enough to support me.
“What should we do with these?” The front man stroked the hard sex slick rubber with one hand, while the backman stripped his off, and let it fall soiled but empty to the painted concrete floor.
I’d never done anal before, and I couldn’t imagine how good it felt. To be sandwiched between them, and full of cock. He was good at it, so he’d done it before. No doubt with other men, if not my father’s CFO than for him.
“You suck cock?” I felt up to grab it, and pull him around by the handle. “Go ahead, and suck his cock for me.”
Of course, the evidence taped to my back was impossible to hide. he found it, and ripped it off when I bent over to suck one, and get fucked doggy style for the other. I’d had threesomes and more before. Orgies.
“I’d rather you.” I slapped him.
“I’m not interested in what you want.” I pointed. “Over there, stand over there, and let him suck you off.”
“Yes maam.”
“Huh!” I was getting the hang of this. Giving the orders, and I was used to getting what I want. I never had to work for it before, and tucking the disk in my clutch, I just set it down, and sat on the corner of the table.
“Ugh ug guk guk guk!”
“Who knew you’re such a good cock sucker?” Well, I can think of at least one. “No,” he looked up at me. “Don’t get dressed. Spread your legs, and show me that hot wet pussy again.”
I shrugged, and scooted back against the wall. I assume the tables came from some board rooms, or another. The old style, they’d been replaced periodically, as fashions changed. I don’t live here, we have a house (Some might call a Mansion) and various apartments downtown. Close to work, but I grew up visiting my daddy as he climbed the corporate ladder.
His decades of hard work payed off, he practically owned half the company, and now he could make a power play for the other. “Take off the rubber, and cum on his face. I want to see it all over his face, suck it. Suck him off, suck him good and hard, uh!”
“Huh fuck. Hot bossy bitch yeah. Oh fuck, yeah. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, but you’re worth it.”
“Huh!” I crossed my legs, and scooted out to let them hang off the edge. “You can’t have me. You know I’ve got a boyfriend. A real man, and we’re practically engaged.” I picked up my underwear, and slipped it up my toes. “I don’t have to tell you that nothing leaves this room.”
“About that,” the biman stopped buttoning up his fly, and turned around. Odd that I’d never seen tuxedo pants, with black plastic buttons in the fly flaps before. Like army pants more than 501 jeans, without the cargo pockets, of course. “What’re you planning to do with that picture?”
I pulled up my panties, and hopped down to the floor. Stuck a finger up, and inched it for him to come forward. “Why don’t you let me worry about that?” When he was close enough, I wiped the evidence off his face, and slipped my fingers in his mouth to suck off.
“Uh, we can lose our jobs here.”
“I have money, you want a job, boy toy? What’s your name?”
“Hugh.” I laughed, and scoffed. Shaking my head. “You want to be my boy toy, Hugh?” I turned back to the older one. “Finish eating the evidence.”
“Yes maam.” He happily wiped it up, and loudly smacked his lips.
The other one, the younger one backed up, but I kept coming forward. “Not if it means doing anything gay.” I took his hands, and put them up on my breasts.
“Huh, we’ll work it out together, but that’s not what I asked you. Do you want to be My boy-toy. Hugh?”
“Yes, mhn!” I kissed him, hard, and I swear he melted! His grip went soft on my breasts, and he even whimpered a little, but I just held them up.
“Good,” Oh yeah. The other one. “Look, I get that you want to blackmail him, or destroy his political career, but I have my own reputation to worry about.”
“I know,” he pulled on his shirt, and started buttoning that back up. Too bad, he had to cover up that wonderful body. “Hugh!” I pulled his hands off. “Get me my dress.”
“Yes maam.” I never thought to wonder how, well in the Batman cartoons, I guess. I watched those with my brother, but you know how 2 Face, Joker, even joke criminals like that puppeteer with the Scarface puppet. I guess his name is Dummy, but it seems like every single one of them had an endless supply of nameless goons for Batman to beat up.
You never wonder how they go about recruiting them? Do they have an app, or call 1(999) MUS-CLE? (That’s only six letters.)
“Should I dress you?”
“No, just get me my shoes now, thank you Hugh.” No chairs, so I had to sit up on one of the tables. Cross my legs, and let him buckle the heels back on. Lovingly handling my feet, and my legs. “Huh!” I can get used to this.
“So, you’re going to let me go, with that image. In return, I promise that it will never come back to you.”
“Look, that’s great, lady.”
“Maam.”
“Sorry maam, but that’s not how it works. They logged a breakin, they know exactly who came up to check it, they have my voice radioing back that we can handle it, without backup.” He shot his cuff, and checked his watch. “We’ve been gone nearly an hour and a half now, on duty, with the biggest party of the year going on…”
“All right, then plan B. I want to talk to the Security team. The entire security team. Every single one of you that’s responsible for the building, not the party. Just the ones that can help us cover up my theft, okay?”
He nodded. “I think we can handle that, yes.”
“Of course you can, that way you’re involvement with this.” I waved around My new dungeon, “Won’t see the light of day, right? It probably took all of you to get his whores in and out without them showing up on the cameras, or being seen with the Gubernatorial candidate. So yeah, I’m going to take him down, all by myself, but thank you for reminding me of the fact that I don’t want My security taken down with him. Okay? So, set up a meeting, tomorrow.”
“Yes maam.”
“Hugh, get dressed. We’re leaving.”
“Yes, maam.”
I think I’m going to like this, life of crime. Yeah, how hard can it be? Most of these guys are ex cops, ex military, some of them are even ex-mercenaries.
And best of all? There’s no rich industrialist playboy moonlighting as a masked crime fighter, or I’d know him.
So, the whole city if mine.
“Hmhn!”
“What’s so funny?”
“HmhnehahAH! I’ll tell you later. Now, go talk to your security buddies.” I gave him one last pat on the ass. “Hugh, call me a car. I think I’ll go home.”
Let’s see now. First, I’m going to need some sort of Mask…
👄This will be the best oral sex you have ever experienced.👅