High Tech Judy and the Nife

Warning: This story contains nonconsensual sex.

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I was sitting at Starbucks with my best friend Susie. I was pouring my heart out to her.

"So you failed again," Susie said. "Venture capitalists are a dime a dozen. There will be more opportunities."

"It's so unfair," I said.

"Well, you know, it's a big decision. You're asking them to put up big bucks. You know it's not easy to convince these men to part with their money," Susie said.

"Yes, of course. I knew it would be hard. It's just that we have such a good idea, and I've assembled such a great team, and all we need is a chance. Some seed capital. It would make such a difference!"

Susie held my hand, trying to calm me. I was fighting off tears. "What happened with Mr. Severson?" she asked. "You had high hopes for him, I thought?"

"Yeah, I really thought we had a shot with him," I sniffed. "He understood the idea, its potential, and he liked my team. I was sure he was going to come through."

"But he didn't?"

"No."

"Why not, do you think?" Susie's tone was gentle, loving. She is a sweetheart of a friend.

"Me. I blew it. I ruined everything," I confessed.

"How so?" Susie asked.

************

Judy's Story

***********

"Okay, you want the whole story?" I asked, getting angry as I thought about it. Susie could hear the anger in my voice. Anybody who heard me just then would have heard it. She simply nodded her head.

"We were on the verge of signing the papers. He had even brought a certified check. He had taken me out to that fancy Italian place, the one that costs a fortune. He had plied me with cocktails and wine, matching me sip for sip. I was pretty drunk. He was drunk too, but much less so."

"After dinner, we went to his room where the papers were. We sat on the couch as he spread them out. He told me he would be entrusting me with a lot of money, and to do so, he felt he should know me better."

"I told him we had been discussing this for months. I was sure he knew me well. I have no surprises. And he said, 'Yes, you still have one.' Then he kissed me. I was such an idiot I did not see it coming, and I did not know what to do, I was drunk, and well, I just kissed back."

"He meant the surprise you still had was how you were in bed?" Susie asked. I nodded.

"Apparently, my kissing him back gave him some sort of green light. He kept kissing me. He began to feel me up through my clothes. I began to get turned on: He's handsome you know, he's rich, and well it seemed to me that I could have done worse. But I just was not ready to go further sexually. Indeed, had I not been so drunk, it would not have gone this far! And if I had not been so drunk, I may not have revealed so easily how much I was enjoying it, at least up to that point. Shit, I had even moaned at one point. That was stupid. Stupid!"

"So, what did you do?" Susie asked.

"I pulled away from him, and flashed my engagement ring, and said I could not continue with this," I said.

"You're engaged?" Susie asked. "You've never mentioned it. And I thought we were good friends!"

"No," I said. "I'm not engaged. I don't even have a boyfriend. I simply had a cubic zirconium fake engagement ring made up just for these situations."

"Oh, I see. That's clever. Did that work?" Susie asked.

"Severson said, 'You're acting like one of those women victims in vampire movies who flashes a cross at a vampire. It does not work for them, either.' Next, he pushed me down on the couch and continued kissing me, telling me how he was looking forward to working with me, and emphasizing how much money was involved. I stupidly returned the kisses, they were so, so good. And I was seduced by the promise of so much money and my dream being realized. But nevertheless, I struggled against him to prevent it from going farther. Perhaps my struggles were too halfhearted? I just don't know," I said.

Susie interrupted, "I don't need to hear the rest, Judy. I get the picture."

"Yeah. It was my favorite dress, too, and he ripped it off me, ruining it. He pulled down my panties, and I screamed to the high heavens and kicked him in the balls," I said, crying as I said it.

"Good for you, Judy! I'm so proud of you," Susie said.

"No, you're not. He then hit me hard on the head, and he knocked me unconscious. When I woke, it was at least an hour later. I was naked on the couch, Mr. Severson was gone, and the papers we were to sign had left with him. The certified check was gone too, of course. And I had the mother of all headaches."

"Oh," Susie said.

"One more detail: I had been raped. Multiple times. That was obvious." I said.

Susie looked at me in shock.

"I was raped by Severson himself, of course, but also by another guy," I said.

"How do you know that?" Susie stupidly asked.

"Severson recorded the rapes. There was a machine with a big button, and Severson had written 'push this' under the button. So, I pushed it. It projected my rapes onto the wall. Even though I was unconscious I gave every sign of enjoying the sex. I even moaned," I said, feeling nauseated as I spoke.

"Then you have evidence of the rapes!" Susie exclaimed.

"Susie, this is Silicon Valley," I said. "The machine is in beta testing. As soon as the video of my humiliation finished, the video self-destructed. I've got nothing except the memory of the sight of me being fucked by two men while I'm drunk, naked, and unconscious. And I know you cannot ask, but you want to: Yes, I looked good. I looked sexy, hot, and like I'm a great lay, even when I'm unconscious!"

"Jesus. Will you go the police?" Judy asked. "I'll bet Severson has a copy. You could subpoena it, or something."

I laughed. When I heard myself laugh, what I heard was the laugh of a bitter woman. "Severson is as rich as Croesus, and I am a pathetic little venture capitalist with no track record. I accuse him, or anyone else, and nobody else will get near me with a ten-foot pole. And besides, I would lose, even if the police believed me, which they would not."

Susie just sat there. She knew I was right.

"Severson had been almost my last chance, too. This time I was fucked in every way. No money, just a fuck-up, figuratively and literally. I know I'm feeling sorry for myself. Hell, I'm wallowing in self-pity, but this is extreme. There's only one more chance, and he's worse than Severson."

"Who is he?" Susie naturally asked.

"He's called "The Knife." I saved him for last because I'm scared of him. Terrified, is a better description. But it does not matter; he's the only one left. I did not give sex to anyone except Severson. And I did not give sex to Severson: He took it. He took it in spades."

"I now know: The Equation is clear: No sex, no venture capital. Giving sex seems a necessary condition, at least in my case." I began to cry.

"Are you going to put out for The Knife?" Susie asked.

"God, I hope not. I'll just do a damn good job, and not let myself get drunk," I said.

"But what if it becomes clear that it's the only way?" Susie asked.

"Well, let's hope it does not come to that. And if it does, well, I just don't know. Giving away sex is always better than rape, right?"

"Oh, you poor girl," Susie said. "I'm glad I just run a small business. Although even I need a bank loan from time to time. And the loan officers are almost always men, and well, I guess it's not that different, you know?"

"What happened to you, Susie?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

"It's not interesting," Susie said, looking down at her cold coffee. Shame seemed to emanate from her pores.

"I'm interested. I'm your friend. Tell me, Susie," I said.

Susie said, "Not here." Suddenly I realized Starbucks had become crowded, and we did not really have any privacy. I wondered if people had heard me when I described my rape? I was horrified. But it was water under the bridge. Nothing I could do at this point.

It was 3 in the afternoon, so we went to a well-lit bar/cocktail lounge, and picked a table in a corner. We both ordered glasses of Chardonnay.

************

Susie's Story

*************

"Okay. Susie. Spill," I said.

Susie took a deep breath. "I needed a loan to pay the taxes and the new rent increase for my dry-cleaning business. You know how business is slow in the summer. I knew I could pay it back within six months, no problem. The bank knew it, too."

"The bank officer was really nice. He took me out to his country club for cocktails and to sign the loan. I was naïve. I did not see any red flags. There were lots of people about."

"You don't need to tell me the rest," I said. "I see where this is going."

"You might not. Three of his fellow loan officers joined our table: two men and a woman. The presence of the woman further emphasized how non-threatening this was. We all had some more drinks, and it was clear I was getting the loan, and I guess I simply let my guard down. I was a bit tipsy, too, I confess. Maybe I was very tipsy. Oh hell, to be honest, I was drunk. Then one of the men left with the woman."

"They did not leave the club, though. The bar was, predictably enough, called the 19th Hole. My loan officer, Frank, told me they had gone to another, more special and elite little club. 'I like to call it the Twentieth Hole,' he said, and there was a lascivious tone to the name. It was upstairs. He asked if I wanted to see it, and I said 'Sure.'"

"The three of us went upstairs, we opened a door, and there was the woman, naked on a bed, with now two men taking pictures of her. I guess I entered into a state of shock, because I just stood there and stared, as one of those two men climbed up on her and the two of them had sex, while the other man watched."

"I recovered and turned around and stepped out, feeling disgusted. Almost immediately, Frank pulled me into another bedroom of the 20th Hole. Well, you know what the 20th Hole is now, don't you? He undressed me, lay me down, spread my legs, and then they both fucked my hole, aka the 20th hole, one after the other. As Frank entered me, he actually said, "Ah. A hole in one." I could not believe I was fucking a man who could talk like that."

"I actually said to him: 'Here at the 20th hole, Frank, it's backwards golf: the more strokes the better.' "

"Then he said, and all this is while he is fucking me, 'how many strokes makes par?' And I said, groaning a bit between words, 'Make me cum, and we'll know.'

"They fucked my brains out. The worst part is that I loved it. And oh yes, par is 42. Also, obviously, I got the loan. I'm even looking forward to the next time I need a loan. How pathetic is that?" Finished, Susie looked at me. She looked at my face, to gauge my reaction.

"That's an amazing story," was all I could say. "You've made me wet, listening to it." Then I asked, "Did you have any idea, beforehand, that you might enjoy something like that?"

"You mean did I know before all this that I'm a slut, a tramp, and a whore who will fuck men to get a business loan? No, I most certainly did not! But I know now. Boy, do I," Susie said, bitterness clearly evident in her voice.

"You know, I was good at golf in high school. I did not win, but I went to the state championships. I now play golf with the bankers most weekends," Susie said.

"How many holes?" I asked smiling.

"Twenty," Susie said, and we both giggled. "We bet, too."

"What's the bet? Do you win?" I asked.

"We bet money. Fairly large amounts, like several hundred dollars. If my golf score on 18 holes is less than their score on the 20th, I win. Sometimes I have to let two men enjoy me on the 20th hole in order to ensure that I win." Susie kept looking at my face. I'm sure she was trying to detect horror, or disgust, or contempt. Seeing only vicarious enjoyment, she continued.

"And then there's the 14th hole," she said. She paused for effect.

"Please, Susie, pray tell!" I implored.

"Well, I began to wear tennis clothes when playing golf, to tease the men with my long legs. I wore a white sports bra on top, due to my rather heavy breasts." Susie said. She is well endowed in regards to boobs, shall we say. We developed a culture of sexy double entendres."

"And the 14th hole?" I asked, anxious to hear the rest. It was a good distraction from how upset I was after having told her the story of my rape.

"Oh, yeah, about that. I had lost my concentration, and hit a shot into the rough at the 14th hole. That almost never happens. I was playing with three men, and they all helped me to look for the ball. I was about to give up, to just take the penalty, when one of the men, Jim, said he knows where it is. I should explain, Jim is a magician; he actually has a show downtown, and he entertains privately, often at children's' birthday parties," Susie said.

"And he found it?" I asked, curious where this was leading.

"He told me he would show me, but I had to remove my tennis panties. Of course, that made no sense. I had slept with Jim already at the 20th hole, but not with the other two men. The men began a chant of take it off, take it off, and I really wanted to win the bet for the game. There was $300 at stake. So, I needed every stroke."

"You took off your panties, right there, on the 14th hole, in front of three men?" I asked, with clear incredulity and horror in my voice.

"Yes, I did. And my sports bra, too. I only had my skirt still on," Susie said, blushing a little. "And Jim told me to pull up my short tennis skirt, and he fondled me down there a little, stuck a few fingers inside me, and then damn if he did not pull the missing golf ball right out from inside my pussy! I've never seen anything like it."

"It's sleight of hand," I said.

"I know that Judy, of course. I'm not a moron. But then he said, 'Oh my God, there are more balls in there!' He continued to pull balls out of my pussy, all the time massaging me down there, and whipping me up into a super horny state. We were away from the fairway, in the rough, but still, people could have seen us. Bizarrely, that turned me on," Susie said, then she paused.

"And then you continued the game, in a state of arousal?" I asked.

"No, we quit the game, and went directly to the 20th hole..." Susie said, blushing and looking at her wine as if it contained the mysteries of the universe.

"And you did all three of them, didn't you?" I asked.

"Judy, I was spit roasted. Do you know what that is?" Susie said.

"No" I said.

"It means I got on my hands and knees and blew one of them while at the same time, Jim fucked me, rear entry. I did that. Then the third guy took me in the ass. I had never done that before, either. Anal, I mean. Then Jim tried to put some of the balls back in me."

I looked at Susie.

"He fit two of them inside me. The other men applauded. I then fucked all three of them again, the usual way, using my pussy, once the other two men each removed a ball, of course. It was all pretty wild, you might say," Susie said, and she had a dreamy look as she was remembering the experience.

"Yes, you could say that," I said.

Susie changed the subject. "So when are you meeting with this guy, The Knife?"

"Next week. Maybe I'll take some golf lessons in the intervening week," I said.

"Hmmm," Susie said. "It might be good preparation. Let me know when you want to play 20 holes. I'll set it up," and we both began to giggle.

************

The Knife

************

It turned out it was six weeks before I could meet The Knife. At this point we were truly desperate for a cash infusion of venture capital. Banks would not lend us any more money. Quite frankly, I was scared. I figured that was why The Knife had kept me waiting.

I used the six weeks well. I had begun with a rudimentary knowledge of golf, but I had hired a trainer and by the end of the six weeks I was not bad. I also hired an investigator so that he would learn what "the word" on me was. It turned out that the word was that I was brilliant, but a cold bitch who would not put out. The investigator had even learned that Mr. Severson, and a lackey named Mitch Michaels, had raped me. So the word was out on that, too. I got points for not trying to do anything, such as call the police, about the rape.

The investigator also told me why Mark Samuels was called "The Knife." Like most nicknames, it was for multiple reasons. The best one was that he had the ability to cut through all bullshit and get to the heart of the matter. He was good at it. There were other reasons, too. Apparently, he had a knife fetish. No elaboration was given. And then there was something about his cock, but the investigator did not tell me what it was, precisely. I think he could not ascertain that little bit of useless knowledge.

Last, it turned out that The Knife likes golf. Now I was really glad I was learning golf. The report ended by letting me know that Samuels is shy, especially around women.

There are few secrets in Silicon Valley. One was that The Knife hated his nickname. I made a mental note to (of course!) call him Mr. Samuels.

Mr. Samuels took the customary tour of our facilities, and he examined our books in detail. He gave careful thought to the tech estimates and evaluations by experts, and to our test marketing results. He was thorough and competent. We have a great product, so I figured it was always good news when the venture capitalist was thorough.

Like all these men, he wanted to discuss things further over dinner. I dressed to look nice, but not at all sexy. I wore my fake engagement ring, and Samuels noticed. Of course he did: The cubic zirconium "diamond" was a rock the size of Montana, so the ring was hard to miss. We had a nice dinner, and he did not make a pass at me. I was thrilled.

I was also nervous. He was the first venture capitalist who had not tried to use his power of dangling money over my head to get into my panties. I began to get nervous that his apparent lack of sexual interest meant we were not going to get the deal.

But then I thought this is crazy! Were he to try to make a pass, and I rebuffed it as I always do, then he would take his money elsewhere, as had happened so many times before. So it's a good thing he is not making a pass, right? I was a bundle of nerves: So much was riding on this! My entire future, it seemed.

After dinner he took me home. At my home, dejected to my core since I was sure at this point we would not get the capital we needed, he offered to walk me to my door. At the door, he took me in his arms and he kissed me. It was a gentle, sweet kiss. I was so amazed, I was stunned, and I did not kiss him back. Oh, no! I could see the disappointment in his face, so I threw my arms around his neck, and I grabbed his head and pushed it into my face and kissed him as if my life depended on it.

He kissed back and we stood there kissing for around three solid minutes. After the first minute of that kiss, I opened my lips and our tongues met. God, it was a sexy kiss. I ground my abdomen against him, and I actually felt his penis grow and become hard.

When the kiss ended, I was embarrassed by my impetuous and sexually forward behavior. He was, too! He did not seem to be nearly the predator the rest of the creeps had been. But then, maybe he is just a shy predator? Did that even make sense? Yes, of course it did.

Samuels said, "Do you play golf?" This seemed like a strange question to come after a passionate goodnight kiss at my front door, but then, people are strange. And they don't get any stranger than venture capitalists.

"I'm learning," I replied. "I've been playing, badly, for six weeks."

"Let's play tomorrow. Meet me at 9am at the Vista al Valle Country Club, and we'll play 18 holes. They have a nice 19th hole," he said. This was the club Susie had told me about.