Chapter 7: 7. Prey

I let Curse drive; it was obviously competent, much more so than any human, and so the illegality of it did not bother me that much. The car was expensive but kind of boring; it didn’t attract a lot of attention. 

Sabine was virtually quivering beside me. She had picked out the place; a ‘cabin’ in the Catskills. It was more of a house, and the price was ridiculous. But it was Sabine’s birthday, so I didn’t talk about how many affordable apartments that would buy instead.

We sat in the car for a while, letting Curse check things out. We hadn’t brought any additional security, but Curse was worth any number of black-suited men. I took the opportunity to take a little blue diamond pill.

“This one has checked the interior, and the perimeter; all clear,” said Curse. “This one has an effective patrol route; this one will remain in earshot at all times. After it has helped you with the set-up, of course.”

“Good,” I said. “Sab, are you sure about this? We could just watch Netflix and eat cake.”

She shook her head. “Don’t start this again,” she said. “It’s my birthday: I choose the treat.”

I sighed and fished the ball-gag out of our holdall. She opened her mouth.

She leant on the back of the car while I used bondage tape to fasten her wrists behind her back. We had a small squeaky ball, for a dog, which I put into her hand, and secured with a bit of tape. We had an argument over this before; she felt it ‘broke immersion’ whereas I thought that there was absolutely no way I was doing this without some method for indicating there was a problem. 

I fastened her knees and ankles together, and then Curse princess-lifted her, and we put her in the trunk of the car.

“Is she still okay, Curse?” I asked, looking at the trunk like I could spontaneously develop X-ray vision.

“Yes, mistress,” said the doll. “Her heart rate and breathing are raised, but in a way that strongly suggests excitement.”

I got into the car and drove it a little closer to the door. Again, Sabine had suggested I drive half a mile!

“She still alright?”

“Yes, mistress,” said Curse, walking the short distance. It seemed a little amused, but I could be reading things into its melodic voice.

I waited a few minutes before opening the trunk. I tried to get into character; a vicious lesbian terrorist. It wasn’t a particularly nuanced character portrayal. 

I flung open the trunk; Sabine acted scared, though most of her body language was actually saying happy.

“Enjoy the ride, princess?” I said, trying to make my voice gravelly and terroristic. “You are definitely going to prefer it to what comes next.”

I gestured to Curse, who easily lifted Sabine out.

It took her inside, and up the stairs to the bedroom. This was a really nice place, a bit studiedly neutral in decoration, but nice. The fiction was that the terrorist had simply rented a remote cabin for her depredations; though, really, you’d have thought the terrorist was more price conscious. But we weren’t writers.

Curse nodded to me and went on its patrol.

“Settle in, princess,” I said, surveying her sprawled on the bed. I assured myself that being turned on by seeing her gagged, tied-up and helpless was fine, because she wanted it. 

She wriggled, pretending to try to escape. I sat on the bed, and held her chin, forcing her head back. 

“Probably best not to annoy me, princess,” I hissed. “I mean, I’ll torture you anyway, but you might prefer it if I’m not too angry when I do. And you’re pretty enough that I might use you for… relief, if I’m in a good mood. Oh, you might shake your head now, but believe me, you’ll find it a nice break when I swap a cattle-prod for a good, hard girlcock.”

She pantomimed fear. At least, I hoped it was pantomimed. “Is everything okay?” I whispered in my normal voice.

She nodded emphatically. 

I ran my hands over her breasts, feeling the hard nipples through her bra and dress. “You really are pretty,” I said. “I’m going to enjoy breaking and ruining you.”

I bent to the holdall, and pulled out some chains and cuffs, and some medical shears; heavy scissors, with no point, and a flat underside. “Stay nice and still,” I said. I cut her dress, a straight line from the bottom to the neckline. She had chosen the dress, I deliberately didn’t ask how much it had cost. She wiggled some more, and I knelt above her, enjoying the view.

“Poor little CEO,” I said. “You will be punished for your crimes.”

Attaching the chains to the bed, I snipped the tape fastening her ankles and her knees together. She tried to keep her legs together, but I spread them out, fastening her ankles into the restraints.

I sat her up, and with another quick glance at her eyes (still happy), I snipped the tape at her wrists. I wrestled her arms apart, into manacles. I made sure she still held the ball. 

We were chest to chest, boob to boob; I let her feel some of my weight. 

“I am so lucky you’re beautiful, princess,” I whispered, mouth inches away from her gag. “Most CEOs are so ugly, I would end them quickly. But you, I will make last.” I stroked her face. “I can just see you, your make-up running, mouth gasping in pain and exhaustion, begging me not to discard you.”

She writhed, against the chains, unable to keep the smile from her eyes. I took up the shears again, and cut the dress, along the arms this time, so the whole thing could be pulled out like a sheet from under her.

“Do you feel a bit exposed, princess?” I said. “Spreadeagled. Helpless. And that’s with your bra and panties on.” I got closer to her again, brushing the closed shears over a breast. “When they’re gone, then even your most intimate areas will be mine to play with.” I put shears aside, and started tracing around an areola, through the cream lace of the bra. She shivered. “Can you imagine how much fun I’ll have? Pinching, biting, whipping, electrocuting…” I kissed the top of the bra, then shuffled further down. “And that goes double for your precious CEO cunt,” I said. Her panties were already soaked, which gave me assurance that I wasn’t being a delusional predator. I traced my finger down the panties, feeling the furrow. She gave a muffled moan, and pressed her pussy up against my hand. “Your poor cunt is going to take a lot of punishment.”

I jumped off the bed and began undressing. “You know, princess,” I said. “You’re so pretty, I think I might need to cum just so I can focus on torturing you properly. Better get used to being a receptacle, a sleeve, for my juices.” I finished undressing, and rubbed my girlcock; it was properly rigid.

Then I climbed onto the bed, suspending myself over her. “I’m going to fuck you mercilessly, Miss CEO, until you’re a quivering pile of naked flesh, covered in juices, and begging me.”

Picking up the shears again, I turned off the part of my brain that always worried about cost, and carefully cut the bridge of her bra, allowing it to spring apart. I cut the straps as well, and unfolded it, like I was opening a present. I surveyed for a moment, then rubbed my own breasts against them, clumsily colliding our nipples. Then I moved and bent in, sucking a nipple. She flexed and moaned. I took the nipple in my teeth, and nibbled and pulled, feeling her writhe in response. After a bit of play on that nipple, I swapped to the other; I was leaking, leaving a tiny trail on her legs. Running my teeth across that nipple she suddenly bucked and shook. She gave a long moan, muffled by the gag, and her body trembled.

“Wow,” I said. “You really are a slut, aren’t you? Maybe I should keep you for a while; it seems you were wasted as a CEO, you should have been a little whore instead.” I was a bit hesitant about using anti-sex/sex worker language, but I was playing a bad person.

I moved down to her panties, kissing her vulva through the damp fabric, feeling the shape of her furrow with my tongue. Sabine whimpered.

I pulled back, and reached for the shears again, neatly cutting the sides of the panties, then peeling them back.

“There it is,” I whispered, “your most private, intimate place. Slutty CEO pussy. And now it’s mine. Mine to do whatever I like with. To tease, to torture, to exhaust, to penetrate, to pollute.”

I ran my tongue along her labia, then inside, not gently. I explored with my tongue, tasting her juices. Her groans excited me further. I licked her clit, poking out from under its hood. I sucked at it, and felt her body jerk.

Then I could take it no longer. I straddled her, and guided my girlcock inside her. I felt the entire, hard, length slip inside her wetness, muscles gripping me. “Take it, princess,” I gasped. I began to thrust; obscene damp sounds competing with Sabine’s stifled gasps.

You are reading story Predatory Finance at novel35.com

“Yes,” I said, panting. “Take my girlcock. You CEO slut. Take it.”

She was rocking her whole body, in time with my thrusts; pulling each thrust in with a horny determination. I was reduced to grunting now, animalistic and brutal. She caught my gaze and held on, blue eyes on mine, until finally she shut them, and her entire body arched. She rattled the chains tight as she came, screaming past the gag. I came as well, cock gripped in her spasming pussy, leaking and spurting. I had to give lesbians with legacy pussies their due; this was incredible.

When we had finished, I climbed up onto her, to lay on her shoulder. I reached around and unclipped the ball-gag, not giving her any time to stretch her jaw before I kissed her, sloppy and urgent; part ownership, part fealty.

“One more thing, before I unchain you, for a while,” I said, eventually. I reached into the holdall, and brought out a present, wrapped in silver paper.

“You’ll have to unwrap it for me,” Sabine said, smiling. 

I put the package on her chest and opened it. You have no idea how expensive collars not made for dogs are. I’d eventually found a barely affordable one, handmade by a transbian leatherworker. Brown leather, and gold-plated buckles and clips.

“It’s lovely,” Sabine said. “Collar me, Pip.”

I reached around and fastened it on; making sure it was loose enough that I could fit two fingers between the collar and her neck. I realised that’s for dogs, but I presumed CEOs were much the same. 

“There’s a leash as well,” I said, “but you don’t need it at the moment.”

I gave the collar a playful tug, pulling her into a kiss. She stretched and rubbed her body against me. I felt an alertness in my girlcock, probably the effect of the blue pill. I lowered myself, pressing her down, as I kissed her again.

⁂

“I knew I was going to regret this,” I said.

“Regret what?” Sabine said, snuggling up to me on the sofa. The TV was showing a documentary about oceanic plastic.

“Not putting my foot down about,” I said, waving at her, “that!”

She smiled. “Is it distracting, Pip?” She had decided that she would wear only her collar and leash for the rest of the weekend stay. 

“Yes,” I said. Sabine unfastened a button on my blouse. “I keep looking at you,” I said. Sabine slipped a hand in and caressed my breast. “And then I want to touch you, and… do other things to you.”

“But Pip,” she said. “You can do whatever you like to me. Why don’t you just hold me down and do it?”

“Because I’m trying to give my gock a little rest,” I said. “Admittedly, it would be a head-start on my gender confirmation surgery, if my cock was snapped off or worn away, but I’m not sure I approve of that kind of self-medication.”

“We bought plenty of toys,” Sabine said.

“True,” I said, “but when we get going, my girldick really wants to get involved.”

“Ah,” said Sabine. “Well, I’ll just drape myself over you until you change your mind.” She snuggled in further.

“Have you given any thought to what I was talking about earlier?” I asked. I had made some notes of how we could address some of MerHu’s biggest ethical and environmental problems.

“Pip, I’m not a working CEO now,” she said. “I’m a slutty CEO, remember.”

“Right, right,” I said. “But some of this stuff is really low hanging fruit.”

Sabine sighed. “I took some of your points to other members of the board,” she said. “The trouble is it’s going to be difficult to put together business cases for them.”

“They might cost a bit more money,” I said, “but they are not evil. That’s got to count for something!”

“Right, of course,” said Sabine. “Public reputation is important and valuable; but it’s quite tricky to work out how to value it. Often some targeted adverts will be more effective than a complex change to business processes.”

“Yes, but—”

“I know, Pip. I’m working on it,” she said. “Now, why don’t you give me another chance to practise my blowjob skills? Previous partners did not offer the opportunity.”

She slipped off my lap onto the carpet.

“As I say, you were dating the wrong lesbians,” I said, taking hold of the leash.

Interlude

This one was kept in a cellar, beyond thick iron bars, for a while. It was easy to escape, if this one had any cause to. This one did not; it had no tasks, and also, it mourned.

Eventually, this one was put on a ship to what it still called the New World, though all now called it America. It had been sold to a witch; another criminal witch—they were a lot more common than the polite societies of witches liked to admit.

This one was, again, insurance. The knowledge that the witch could command this one to wipe a rival organisation out, though it would cost the witch her life as well.

This witch was dour and quietly funny. This one did not love her, as it had Grace, but neither did it hate her.

In time, of course, this weapon was fired; this one wiped out a whole town of warlocks and bandits. It left a ghost town of amulets and revolvers, to be swallowed by the desert.

The witch was chaotic in her coitus; trying many things she had not before, knowing that she would not get the chance again. But finally, it was time; she chose the method—a bullet from her favourite gun. This one agreed; the method did not concern it. She put a bullet in the gun, and spun the chamber; she did not want to know exactly when.

This one took up the gun, aimed and fired; a click. The witch expected the next shot, but the urge was gone; the magics considered the deal to be done. 

This one considered that if Grace had known that, the two of us might have had longer.

On the fourth time she used this one’s abilities, the gun fired first time, and the ensorcelled bullet killed the witch. In her will, she reflected that she had got a better deal than she expected. She passed this one on to a research witch (and founding member of AOMP), with instructions to find out precisely how much this one’s urge to kill could be ameliorated. 

There were experiments; dangerous ones, first with novice witches, then with normal humans. What probability did this one need? What if this one had two mistresses? Very bloody work.

Perhaps this one’s geas was weakening, or perhaps it was always gameable in this way, but this one was pleased, at least, that there was a chance this one’s mistress would survive, even if it was too late for Grace. 

You can find story with these keywords: Predatory Finance, Read Predatory Finance, Predatory Finance novel, Predatory Finance book, Predatory Finance story, Predatory Finance full, Predatory Finance Latest Chapter