"Gotcha!" Jen smiled to herself. Hours of careful research had finally paid off and now it was payback time.
Jen had worked long and hard to get where she was. After graduating with an honours law degree she had been at a loose end when she'd taken the temp job at Amalgamated Holdings. Wendy McCuskell, the CEO had spotted her one day and, impressed with her abilities, promoted her to personal assistant. For three years Jen had worked at making herself indispensable and her temp job had evolved to a permanent one of power and responsibility near the heart of the operation.
But Jen had plans, big plans, and wasn't prepared to stay as a PA all her life. Through Wendy she'd seen exactly what wealth and influence could buy her and she wasn't going to let anything or anyone get in her way to the top. Wendy was, in this sense, a good role model for her. She was maybe fifteen years older than Jen and had risen to the point where she was worth millions as CEO and major shareholder of Amalgamated Holdings. Ruthless and determined, she demolished any opposition and ruled the company with a will of iron. Jen's view was that if Wendy could make it by the time she was in her forties, then so could she and, in her determination to find out how Wendy had risen from nothing, she spent hours pouring over the books, studying her methods.
It was whilst paging through the endless lines of figures in the company accounts that Jen discovered Wendy's little secret. At first she thought it must be an error, that her sums must be wrong, but the deeper she looked the clearer it became. Wendy wasn't just ruthless and determined, she was also a totally unscrupulous crook and, deep within the company's books, there was clear evidence of a massive fraud. The more Jen studied, the more she uncovered until it became apparent that Wendy had benefited to the tune of several million from contracts which would never stand investigation from the various regulatory bodies. Piece by piece, file by file, Jen built up a portfolio, a list of dates and amounts, a list which would put Wendy behind bars, or rather....
Once she had discovered just what powerful information she had uncovered it hadn't taken Jen long to decide what to do with it. She could, of course, do the 'right' thing; she could pass all the files to the Fraud Squad, which would lead to Wendy being arrested, the end of Amalgamated Holdings and the end of her job. But then, how would this benefit her? She'd lose her job, she was realistic enough to realise that whistle blowers were effectively unemployable, and she'd still be poor and massively in debt. On the other hand she could use this as an opportunity to move into the big time; she could go to Wendy and use this to demand her slice of the cake. If Wendy was ruthless and unscrupulous then she could match her. With something like this to hold over her she could ask for almost anything; cash certainly, and lots of it, but more than that, she wanted power, she wanted a place on the board; not immediately, that would arouse suspicions, but soon.
She looked up at the clock; it was well past eight o'clock and everyone else would have left hours ago. Even a workaholic like Wendy would be long gone. Carefully she placed the file in her desk drawer and locked it away. Her whole body tingled with excitement; she could almost taste the power, the power that would be hers so soon. Tomorrow would be the day, the day she changed her life forever. She got up, fetched her coat, and headed for the door; exhausted from the day's work but tomorrow, tomorrow it would all be worth it, as from tomorrow she was going to be rich, really rich.
She got in the lift and headed for the underground car park. There in the corner, the last car in the place, was her battered Ford. That was going to be one of the first things to go; she'd always fancied a sports car, a convertible, something with a bit of zip, and, as of tomorrow she could stop dreaming and start buying. Anyway, her current model was so old as to be embarrassing, the remote locking didn't work anymore and she had to open the doors using the key.
She had just got in and was reaching for the ignition when, out of nowhere, an arm grabbed from behind. She was pinned back in her seat and a pad of cloth reeking of ether was clamped across her mouth. Jen struggled; all the time she had spent in the company gym meant that she was superbly fit, but it was in vain; whoever was holding her was stronger, and had had the advantage of surprise. Desperately Jen tried not to breathe, but she couldn't fight it forever and, unable to hold back any longer, she was sucking air through the cloth. Her head swam, the voice inside her that said keep fighting was getting weaker and weaker, and, at last, she slipped into darkness.
......
Slowly, very slowly, Jen regained consciousness. It was a while before her eyes would focus, she had a splitting headache, her stomach was churning, her mouth tasted like the cat had slept in it, and she was uncomfortable, so uncomfortable; her whole body felt cold and stiff, a mass of aches and pains. She tried to move but her arms seemed to be locked behind her, her ankles were similarly restrained. Gradually, piece by piece, she came to and realised she was stark naked, hogtied and lying on the hard floor of some sort of cell. Wave after wave of panic threatened to engulf her, this was like something from a horror novel and God knows what sort of psychopath was waiting for her.
There was the whirr of a small electric motor and Jen twisted her head round to see what had caused it. High up in the corner of the room was a CCTV camera and the red light on the front was blinking, Whoever had done this to her was watching, would have seen her twisting her head around to look, and would know that she was awake. The camera panned back and forth and the lens turned as it zoomed in. Whoever was watching was obviously studying her carefully. Jen's heart pounded, it wouldn't be long now before she discovered who and why and, more importantly, what they were going to do with her.
The light on the camera went out; there was a short pause and then the sounds of echoing foot steps. The door opened and Jen got a brief glance at a thick set body before a hood was thrust over her head. Without a word her ankles were unchained and she was pulled roughly to her feet. She was far to unsteady to support herself but the grip on her arm was unrelenting and she was half led, half dragged away. They hadn't gone far when Jen was thrown against some sort of bench; the padded leather top hit her firmly in the stomach winding her and she vomited, filling the hood. A stiff collar was placed round her neck, pulled forward and then down. Jen had no option but to follow and she realised that the 'bench' was actually some sort of horse, a horse that she was now lying across, held in place by the collar with her feet off the ground and her butt uppermost.
"Please, please..." Jen began but was caught short as a ribbon of fire erupted across her buttocks. Jen never knew exactly what was being used, a cane or a riding crop maybe, but she'd never felt such pain before. For the first few strokes she screamed No! and Please! but nothing was going to slow or stop the torrent of blows and before long she was simply screaming as she bucked and twisted trying desperately to avoid the pain.
Almost as scary as the whipping was the total silence of her assailant. Since she had been taken from the cell not a word had been spoken, indeed there was a quiet efficiency about the way she was being handled that was deeply chilling. Jen would almost have preferred the hysterical ravings of a madman to the slow, purposeful way that the whip was being applied to her body.
At last it stopped; sobbing, broken and exhausted, Jen collapsed like a rag doll missing it stuffing. Her buttocks and the tops of her thighs were a ball of fire but at least the blows had stopped. She was vaguely aware of her assailant doing something behind her but she couldn't see what and, as long as she wasn't being whipped anymore, she didn't particularly care. Then she felt her legs being pulled apart and something hard pushing against her anus. Brutally it was pressed against the puckered ring of her sphincter and pushed until the resistance was overcome and she was penetrated. Through the agony Jen was aware that the intrusion was artificially hard, it was a dildo that was penetrating her, not a penis. Again and again the dildo was pushed, each time going deeper inside her until it was buried to the hilt. Jen felt as if molten lead had been poured inside her, that her sphincter had been split as it was stretched to the limit and beyond. Even so she was sufficiently aware to realise that the body thrusting against her meant that the dildo was being worn as a strap-on, implying that her violator was a woman, not a man.
Woman or not, the difference was immaterial; the perpetrator was going to have her way and nothing, least of all Jen's renewed screams and pleading, was going to stop her. The steady rhythm built and built, and the depth of the thrusts increased. Jen was having problems breathing, each thrust pushed her stomach against the horse crushing her against it and, as she gasped for breath inside the hot and stinking hood, the material and lumps of vomit were sucked into her mouth, half choking her. But there was nothing she could do to fight it, she'd been beaten, broken by the whipping, and, even if she'd wanted to struggle, firm hands gripping her hips and the collar around her neck meant she was going nowhere. At last the thrusts reached their crescendo, and Jen felt the woman behind her tense as once, twice, three times, the dildo was buried as deep as it would go and, with an unfeminine grunt, the woman let go of her hips and leant forward on top of her. Jen lay there crushed beneath the woman's bulk, as she got her breath back, until, at last, the woman withdrew and Jen was left, as limp as a used dishcloth, draped over the horse.
