Lawyer Ravished and Enslaved

I was not going to post the following story because I think I have contributed enough masochistic fantasies about a dystopian society. But I have written it and somebody might enjoy it even though it covers most of the same themes I have covered before except it is a bit more non-consent and harsh. It was going to be the beginning of a multi-chapter story but I am stalled on adding chapters although it is obvious how chapters could develop. Anyway, if you are not into rape and enslavement fantasies, pass this by. Finally, my apologies to Camus and "La Chute."

*****

The Fallen - Divorce lawyer gang ravished and enslaved

Prologue

May I, Monsieur, offer my explanation without offending? You think I that I am here because I want to be? You say that from the way I reached a supreme ecstasy while you exuded your seed deep into my womb with my legs wrapped around your back, I must have volunteered to give up my successful law practice to become a full-time wanton in this glorified bordello. You are in error. Even if lust is a sin, I have nothing to be penitent about. I never was allowed a choice.

I believe that I am one of the most exploited woman in the history of earth. You say I look great, not like a victim. Yes, I was not killed or mangled. You cannot see any physical damage.

Rape is different from murder or mayhem. You know the men who took me. They were interested in much more than sex. They wanted an investment property, not a corpse or a catatonic shell of a woman.

Yes, it seems now that I could have gotten out of the city earlier. But you are mistaken that I decided to stay in town because I wanted this. In hindsight I should have left when the first prominent woman was taken, but it was not clear what was happening until months after it was too late to help me.

We all knew that Mayor Murphy was quite corrupt and the town was really run by Jens Kroesek, as brutal and greedy a mobster as there ever was. We knew Governor Smithson was a big supporter or co-conspirator of Kroesek and Murphy. We also knew that the central government had pretty much quit reigning in the states and cities; it was letting local gangsters like Kroesek run major cities with their thugs as long as most of the federal taxes were paid and what was happening was not too obvious. But you cannot flee your hometown and abandon most of your life just because the government has gone bad. And where I could go? Many cities and even rural areas were as bad as our city. So, even if I had been smart enough to leave town at the first sign of what was going to happen, I might have just gotten into another horrible situation or maybe worse.

The legal changes that happened before Jennifer Racey was taken were not an indication. The fact that prostitution had been legalized a year earlier did not indicate anything. I was indifferent to the reform. I could see it either way. The men whose wives I represented had gone to prostitutes but that had not been what wrecked the marriages. I thought it was probably better to have it above board where the women, and some male prostitutes, could be checked out for VD and other problems. The fact that Kroesek immediately opened a huge brothel in what had been one of the fancier hotels downtown was only to be expected. The city cracking down on unlicensed escorts and street walkers had a useful purpose along with protecting Kroesek and the two other large-scale pimps in town from competition.

Monsieur, the city was corrupt but garbage was removed, streets were cleaned, the police enforced most laws, the courts operated reasonably fairly as to anything that did not bother Kroesek and other friends of the mayor and his machine. Nobody knew much about Kroesek's mysterious new partner, Bert Sturmer, "the Thinker." It was rumored that Sturmer was ramping up Kroesek's level of brutality and exploitation. No, it was not until Ms. Racey appeared on a late-night advertisement for Kroesek's "Pleasure Palace" that we had any real hint of what was up or what would be. Also, I did not think it would affect me whatever was going on. There were a whole lot of more famous and attractive women in town than me.

Well, you've bought me for the whole night, you want me to tell the story? I can probably explain it all between our episodes of lovemaking. If you are like most of the men who come here and don't give a damn about how women feel, you will probably get turned on by the story of what happened to me.

Chapter 1 - The City breaks much worse

So yes, Monsieur, eight years ago, I was 31 years old but had a successful solo family law practice. I had graduated from the most prestigious local law school and gone right to work with Tracy Furson, a prominent divorce attorney. She had big billboards on the expressway saying Furson, "represents women, only women, and gets justice done."

You may think divorce law is all about dealing with strong emotions and acting out theatre for judges about how abusive the client's spouse was. It is partly that, but most of what we did was work out property settlements and worry about their tax consequences. The worst cases naturally were the ones involving child custody. Fortunately, there were not many of those. Tracy Furson, though, had made a repetition by handling big messy divorces. I learned from her on a couple of them.

The worst was the Dickerson divorce. After the private investigators testified and both parties spat out all the venom they could, the former Mrs. Dickerson got custody of the two children and $100 million as child support and alimony. She left town immediately after the divorce. I spoke to her for months afterwards long-distance to handle payments and other arrangements. She never said where she had gone. The P.O. Box to which we sent notices was in Finland but that did not prove where she lived.

Tracy made me her partner right after the Dickerson divorce case closed. I had done most of the work on the Dickerson case while she, as the senior partner, got most of the money. Tracy was very happy with me. The firm was Furson & Lightkind for a year before Tracy, rather suddenly, retired in her early 50s. This left me as a solo practitioner with a lot of business at the young age of 29. I kept some of the billboards but replaced Tracy's picture on the billboard with one of me looking as professional and as fierce as possible. I deleted the line about representing "only women."

Obviously, in a city of about 4 million, there are many competing divorce attorneys. Despite my relative lack of experience, I was able to obtain much high-paying business. I hired a young associate, Donna Gutleib. I had kept the firm office assistant Tracy had , Cathy O'Malley, who was somewhere in her late thirties when Sturmer, "the Thinker," started thinking and things in town completely went off the rails.

While part of me still hates emphasizing how women look, it is relevant that Cathy was a busty and physically attractive but frumpy pious wife of a fireman. The children they had had before they were 20 were now quite grown.

Donna really was a sexy young thing with a hourglass figure, dark hair, dark brown eyes, and a beauty mark that seemed to have been placed to give her a particularly seductive face.

Even with Donna's help, I was working 60 hours a week or more. I was no virgin in any way but I did not have any relationship with anything but my vibrating dildos and fantasies about Rick Kempsworth and a few other stud actors and athletes. Dealing with divorce all the time, I was not really interested in a relationship. I did not hate men. Also, contrary to Tracy's practice, I even took a few cases representing the man, but I just did not have time to look for Mr. Right in a city in which I knew there were so many Mr. Wrongs.

Although I had been thought really hot in high school and college, I'd let my appearance go a bit. I was still blond although that was starting to change. I was 5 feet 8 with blue eyes. I still had the large breasts, of course. As you can still see even now, my breasts don't sag much. But I was maybe 10 pounds overweight, wore little make up, and dressed to be taken seriously as a lawyer, not as a sex partner. I did not think I was in the same league as the famous former Brazilian swimsuit model, Jennifer Racey, or newscaster Steffy Jacobstoner.

On the advice of my doctor who said I really owed it to myself to get in better shape, I had started going to a health club, lost a bit of weight and met with other professional women there. I was also a member of Young Women's Professionals and the Women's Bar Association to keep up my business contacts.

There was much talk at the health club and the other two groups about Mrs. Racey's appearance on a late late-night advertising channel early one Thursday morning. No one was surprised that the 27-year old former model wanted to split from George Racey, thirty years her senior. In fact, given all the rumors of both of the Raceys' affairs, we had been joking at the Women's Bar about which one of us would get that lucrative piece of business. But why in the world, instead of suing George Racey for a big alimony check, did Jennifer decide to leave him to become a high-priced prostitute at the Pleasure Palace?

I did not initially believe it. I had not known Ms. Racy and did not watch cable television at 2:00 AM. Donna, though, told me that if I watched Channel 67 after 1:00 AM, the ad would likely come on. So, I stayed up and watched.

The ad was not subtle. Jennifer was wearing only the bottom of a bikini. She stretched back her arms to project her lovely breasts as she explained that she was "available for discerning gentlemen to fulfill all their dreams and lusts at the Pleasure Palace, and only at the Pleasure Palace." The bikini bottom was the same color as the one five years before on the magazine cover. Her light olive skin was still radiant like she was very ready for sex on the beach. She jiggled her breasts and began to take off her bottom piece, before the ad cut to show the street address and phone number of the Pleasure Palace, mentioned valet parking, and gave an Internet site address. Jennifer came on again. Now she was shown from the back, nude with her arms obviously tied over her head, her derriere perfect, and her legs not quite spread enough to see things that cannot be shown even on late night channel stations. She had a riding crop or some other whipping device in her teeth but you could hear her recorded voice saying in the most sultry tone imaginable, "Available for everything," with a whipping sound closing the ad to make clear that BDSM was definitely on the menu.

I was shocked to put it mildly. Even assuming there was some sort of pre-nuptial agreement that was going to block her from soaking George Racey, why in the world would Jennifer volunteer to be some sort of passive S&M trollop? Even with a prenuptial agreement, I bet I could have gotten her seven figures in a settlement. Also, a woman as attractive as her could certainly find another rich man. If it was sex she wanted, there was a huge number of men who would attend to her every desire without her exposing herself to whippings or other pain and humiliation.

Things had settled down for a few days when it was announced through a Channel 1 press release that Steffy Jacobstoner had left the station to pursue new opportunities. No shock there. Steffy was known to feel at age 32 that she was being treated too much as a blond talking head at the news network and wanted to find a job where she could be a serious journalist. She certainly had enough money that she could move on if she wanted to do so.

When Steffy appeared on channel 67 as a new face at the Pleasure Palace, all of the women at all three of my women's clubs were in shock. The ad was even more unbelievable than the one in which Jennifer Racey starred. What had been a respected, if very attractive, news anchor was shown posing on a bed with full bare breasts, her arms spread wide to welcome a lover and only a tuff of a sheet covering what had to be covered for television. For the S&M portion of the ad, Steffy was seen from the front with her arms tied in black leather above her head, posed on what seemed to be one of those riding vibrators. Her breasts flapped up and down as she obviously was having an orgasm. Only a strategically placed tray of electrical toys covered up her genitals.

A few women thought that maybe Steffy had always wanted to do that and had followed Jennifer's lead. By far the majority of us thought that there must have been some really powerful blackmail material on each of them or something even worse. A very pretty news anchor on a different TV station left town. Trophy wives of millionaires I met at the health club said that they were definitely going to be very sweet and loyal to their husbands until they learned what was going on.

I was more concerned about Donna than myself. I did not think of myself as particularly attractive and, as I said, I was not nearly as prominent as Racey or Jacobstoner. I was concerned that, with all the rich women running scared, the high-profile divorce business might not be there for a while.

I learned at the health club Tuesday that the husband of one of the women I see at the club said that a friend of his said that Jennifer Racey was now on some special Internet porn channel. For $20 dollars you could watch the former model pull a train of about 8 guys, fully enjoying every one of them. She ended the hour-long program dripping semen from every orifice while smiling like she was in a state of bliss. I did not know how to weigh this hearsay evidence or what it meant even if it was true.

After Councilwoman Adri Nakamochi appeared on Channel 67 about 2:00 AM Thursday a week after Steffy Jacobstoner appeared, I decided that I had to get out of town for a while. 95% of Adri's beautiful, compact body was on display. They covered up her genitals with another strategically placed sheet, but the first part of the ad before the address and parking data, made clear that Nakamochi was involved in wild sex as she rode some guy with her full naked breasts with fully erect nipples poking out as she moved up and down riding cowgirl style. She appeared to be having an orgasm as intense as the one I just had with you, Monsieur. I had thought Adri was a lesbian because she hit on me during a couple of Women's Bar meetings but either she was bi, had developed new tastes, or was an incredibly good actress.

The ad then showed her riding one of two wooden things that looked like sawhorses. Severe stress was all over Adri's face. Her arms were tightly bound in black leather behind her back trusting her champagne glass breasts out for full inspection of every ripple. A carefully placed tray of whips and other torture devices covered where her body met the wooden stand but it was obvious what her problem was from the other horse shown in the camera. Two large phallic shaped wooden pieces rose from that wooden horse. It would seem Adri was seated with one of the phallic objects up her vagina and the other in her anus. The ad concluded with Adri's voice saying, "your wildest dreams come true" before some advertisement for fake Swiss watches came on.

Nobody had told me to watch Wednesday but I had stayed up into that morning because I somehow felt that Jacobstoner would not be the last attractive celebrity woman to appear on Channel 67. A new one seemed to appear every Thursday morning. I could not sleep after seeing Adri like that until I'd used a vibrator to relieve stress multiple times.

Mayor Murphy at a Thursday morning press conference on the city budget did not calm matters. A young journalist, Ivana Patrosky, had somehow been brought to ask the Mayor about whether there was some sort of illegal conduct occurring in connection with the decisions of several prominent women to go to work at Mr. Kroesek's Pleasure Palace. Smirking, the Mayor said that working at the Pleasure Palace was probably a lot like being mayor and, as he could not explain why he had kept the mayor job for so many terms, he would not try to explain the decisions the women had made. He added, though, that he was "quite sure" that "only a few more" women would be accepted as new providers at the Pleasure Palace this year. "You'll have to hurry if you want a spot, Ivana." Ivana blushed.

When someone asked how he knew how many more would be accepted, he said he just had a feeling. After someone asked what he meant by "only a few more," His Honor answered, "Certainly, no more than a dozen a year, the market demand isn't unlimited is it?"

Assuming the mayor knew what he was talking about, it would seem that more prominent women would be coming to the Pleasure Palace. In a city with over two million women, I would have to have pretty bad luck to be one of those taken, if that was what was happening. Nonetheless, Thursday evening, I told the Young Woman's Professionals that I was going to take a trip out of town until it became clear what was happening.

Connie Lake, an architect, said it was just possible that Jennifer, Steffy and Adri had all decided that being sex stars was what they wanted to do with their lives. I said that I knew Adri from the Women's Bar and I just could not believe that the youngest woman ever to get onto the city council would throw that away to become a sex object. The fact that she had criticized the mayor's associations with known criminal elements made the situation still more suspicious. A few others agreed that it appeared like something bizarre was happening to prominent women and agreed that I would be wise to get out of town. I urged gender studies Professor Simone Nickels, TV therapist Connie Hunt and poverty activist Rev. Leslie Skrowich to get out of town saying that they were more attractive and more prominent in the city than me. They said that they thought we should all get out. Saheeda Brown the Yale-educated community organizer said that it was pretty obvious that things had gone to hell in a hand basket but she could not flee until she had arranged for some sort of replacement for herself as executive director of the Community Racial Equity Center.

A couple older women known for their prudery suggested that all of us were being vain and paranoid and that maybe the three had volunteered to work at the Pleasure Palace because they are sluts.

After that meeting, I met with Donna. She was not concerned. She said her boyfriend, Jimmy, was related to the Mayor and that she was nobody anyone would consider a celebrity. I looked at her DD breasts and said she was a fool if she thought she was safe if the Pleasure Palace was enslaving attractive women. I mentioned that Jimmy, who Donna had said was a real stud in bed and who I had refused to hire as a paralegal because I thought he was an idiot, had never been more to her than a boy toy and could hardly be expected to provide any protection. I added that while we did not know what was happening, the three women who suddenly decided to become sex workers were attractive women in their late 20s or early 30s and Donna was probably in danger, unlike fatso me. Donna replied that only my breasts were plump and I was a very attractive woman as well as a famous attorney.

We concluded that whoever of us fit the profile better, we should both go to a three-day tax law seminar being held in Baytown on the coast starting Monday. We could drive out Friday afternoon, have a little time on the beach during the weekend, and decide what to do after the seminar. Even if there were no danger to avoid, we'd learn some more tax law.

Chapter 2 - Taken

I assume, Monsieur, from the way you are becoming erect again that you are enjoying my history. I guess it is good that someone enjoys my life, including many foreign visitors such as you. Although it has been eight years, every moment of the next hours of that Friday are etched deeply into my brain.