Ms. Wiswell was the CEO of Dynamic Corp, one of the fastest growing businesses in the country. This was no easy feat, and she had reached that spot by ruthlessly undercutting and then buying out her competition. She didn't waste time feeling guilty about it - that was what it took to be a successful businesswoman in this day and age.
In fact she was immensely proud of what she had built. Dynamic Corp was the top-valued US company helmed by a woman, and not only that, boasted an all-female board of directors, security team, and more than 80% female employees. She had been written up in profiles by the New Yorker, Forbes, the Guardian, and countless others. At only 35, she was a rising star in her industry, and everyone wanted to come along for the ride.
Late Friday afternoon she was finishing up a lengthy process to buy out Flexible Solutions, owned by one of her greatest rivals. It had been a tireless fight by her legal team, and after many months she was finally celebrating with a glass of wine as Stacy Lee, her personal assistant, and Rachel Brooke, head of legal, finalized the process. Drew Grant, the CEO of Flexible Solutions, hadn't even had the nerve to come in for the meeting himself, sending one of his lower-level executives instead.
She raised her glass to the executive, offering a toast. "To future success, and new opportunities."
But he didn't return the gesture. Instead the door burst open and a masked man with a long gun entered her office. "Don't move!" He held the gun firmly pointed at Ms. Wiswell.
She panicked, dropping the glass and sending wine and shards all over the closing paperwork. "What the hell is this? How did you get past my security?" She pressed the secret button under her desk, but Taylor, the head of security, didn't appear.
The executive grinned. "Well, it looks like the tables have turned. I believe I have the upper hand here, and you'll soon see that my men have convinced some of your employees to join us instead. Now take off your clothes."
"What are you talking about?" Ms. Wiswell demanded.
"This is absurd," Rachel sputtered. "You can't be serious!"
But with the masked man's gun still pointed at the three women, Ms. Wiswell's lawyer was forced to strip to her underwear. The executive folded her arms behind her back and tied them tightly with black rope, wrapping more rope around her chest above and below her breasts. He didn't pass up the chance to grope her boobs, and when she tried again to protest, he silenced her with black duct tape over her mouth.
Ms. Wiswell could only watch as he tied her assistant up the same way, leaving both of them kneeling in front of her desk, where moments before they had been celebrating their big win. "This is ludicrous! I don't know what you think you're doing, but you can't just assault my employees like this!"
The executive ignored her and turned to the masked man. "Ms. Wiswell and I are going to take a walk. Make sure the lawyer and the assistant are properly secured, sampled, and prepared."
"Yes, sir!" the masked man replied sharply, grinning down at the two helpless women.
The executive pulled out his own handgun from his pocket and gestured toward the door. "Well, Ms. Wiswell? Shall we get moving? You have another meeting downstairs, and we simply can't be late."
She reluctantly turned away from the assailant and stepped through the door. Ms. Wiswell gasped, shocked by what she saw outside the penthouse office. Cindy, Sharon, and Beth, the remainder of her legal team, lay on the floor, bound even more tightly. Their legs were tied together and pulled sharply up behind them, fastened to the ropes looped around their necks and running down the front of their chests. Their backs arched deeply and they could barely move, kicking their feet in protest of the tight bondage.
Standing over them was another masked man, who had clearly just finished undressing. His huge penis bobbed erectly in front of him as he contemplated the three women before him. Finally he settled on Beth, releasing the rope holding up her legs and lifting her by her huge boobs to bend her over the counter.
Ms. Wiswell kept her eyes forward and pretended not to hear the wet sounds of sex start behind her as she continued down the hall. But rather than fading away, it seemed like the noise was only growing louder.
Soon the reason became clear. Several more bound women, still wearing police hats (but nothing else) were pinned against the wall near the elevators by the masked men assaulting them. The intruders thrust into the women, bouncing them up and down with the force of their attention. The women's bound breasts shook wildly and their helpless legs kicked the air as they were fucked. Black tape covered their mouths and eyes, leaving them unable to respond or communicate, trapped inside the experience of their personal nightmare.
The men gripped each woman under the hips, groping and squeezing their asses, even sometimes slapping one. Ms. Wiswell watched one of the men suck and nip at a woman's neck, causing her to squeal behind the gag and kick her feet even harder, though of course it was no use. The men were all hugely tall and well-built, possibly members of some kind of organized force. The policewomen had stood no chance against them.
On the floor lay Taylor and her security team, bound and sweaty, clearly having already been sampled by the masked men. They breathed heavily over their gags, unable to do more than recover from their own pounding. Against the wall stood several more policewomen, bound to the railing and nervously awaiting their own fate.
The executive pushed Ms. Wiswell past the graphic scene and towards the elevator doors. He pressed the down button, then stepped back to wait, holding her firmly in front of him. He reached up to grope her breasts, squeezing first one and then the other. The gun still pressed into her side meant she could do nothing to resist him, and she squirmed helplessly in his grip.
