The Perfect Applicant: Part 10

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Jennifer Grey visibly started at the low laugh behind her. Watching Caroline's remarkable, if reluctant, performance had shocked her already abused faculties into a state of baffled numbness. She had all but forgotten that Allison Taxton still stood behind her in the darkened room. She flushed at the suddenly realization that her slickened and stained pantyhose crotch, grown cool with the extended walk, was now throbbing with a new heat.

Allison laughed again, stepping beside Jennifer to approach the one-way glass that shielded them from view of the couple on the opposite side. "He fancies himself a true cocksman, does he not? Men are, ultimately, so much easier to manipulate than women; scarcely a challenge. Wouldn't you agree, Ms. Grey?" As she spoke, she placed her hand on the nape of the younger woman's neck, to the latter's obvious revulsion. Her skin literally crawled beneath the touch.

Jennifer tore her mind away from the obscene goings-on before her and struggled to muster what few shreds of defiance she still possessed. "I don't know, I'd say you have me and the other girls pretty well under control, wouldn't you?" No sooner had the words left her lips than Allison whirled immediately upon her, heels clacking on the cold concrete, and leaned close enough to her that Jennifer was able to note for the first time the intense color of her icy blue eyes -- the almost imperceptible narrowing of which it would have taken the experiences of someone much older to discern. However, the deadly intent in those eyes was naked and apparent even to Jennifer. And the fingers tightening on the back of her neck were far more obvious, as Jennifer's head was slowly, forcefully hauled back by painful centimeters. God, but is she fucking strong, though, she thought. But still, if my hands were free, I could kill the bitch right now. A jab into the nose with the heel of my hand.

"What is your courage costing you, little Jenny?" Allison whispered into her ear, an audible sneer dripping from her words. "You have had a full day, my dear: bitchraped by two out-of-control dykes, handled like a piece of meat, tortured to orgasm three times so far today by my count, doped to the gills, shoe-fucked and spanked like a four-year-old." Her other hand caressed the front of Jennifer's blouse and then, roughly, yanked it down to her waist. The sound of ripping fabric and buttons bouncing on the floor. Her tits were now fully exposed, the nipples immediately hardening in response to the brutal treatment. "The other girls succumbed under far less. Is it possible that Tom Daniels is molding his lackeys out of sterner stuff of late?"

The comment had been calculated to rattle Jennifer, and she knew it, but it didn't prevent an icy tentacle of fear from racing up the base of her spine. If Allison Taxton knew the name of her supervisor, there was no telling how far her reach extended. The fear was palpable now, a cold metallic taste in her mouth. I've got to do something. Her mind frantically looked for something, anything else to focus on. "Is that Geoffrey Higgins fucking Caroline?" she blurted.

"Oh Jesus baby, Jesus, Caroline, I'm gonna cum," Higgins wheezed as his short violent thrusts grew more urgent. Caroline Holcomb raised her head and opened her eyes to coolly regard her lover.

"I want you to cum in me, Geoffrey," she said deliberately, loudly enough for the two watching women to hear every word clearly. "Squirt your juicy cum deep in my tight little pussy!" At these words, Higgins seemed to stiffen and freeze as his climax began. A series of low grunts escaped from the tycoon's throat as he convulsively pumped his seed into the complacent girl's slippery hole. After he finished, he pulled out a chair and collapsed into it, utterly drained.

Caroline now rose to her full height, produced a pair of beige nylon bikini panties from the pocket of her gray blazer, and gracefully stepped into them, pulling them up over her pantyhose to cover her dripping pussy. She frowned with feigned disapproval as she noted a few drops of semen staining the gleaming nylon on her calf. "Geoffrey, darling, you got my nylons, I'm afraid." After smoothing her skirt, she appeared the very picture of an unruffled M.B.A, the epitome of jaded professionalism, as she surveyed the panting, sweating man in the chair, the trousers of his four thousand dollar Armani suit crumpled around his ankles and a sheen of sweat cooling on his forehead. She leaned over him, resting her hands on the arms of the chair as she made eye contact with him. Another turn of the screw, Dear God. Can you forgive me for what I am doing to this man?

"That was enjoyable, Geoffrey, but remember our agreement. This was the last time. We have discussed why I can no longer fuck you, so don't start. Besides," she smiled, "I know how much you like the footjobs I give you, so it's not like you're going to be missing much. But," she continued more sternly, "you will have to ask permission from now on. Do you understand me? I am a busy woman and I can't always make time for your little urges."

"Now you'll have to run, my dearest. I have a five o'clock with the comptroller of Matsushita U.S.A." Caroline flicked several conspicuous glances at her wristwatch while G.H Higgins III finished wiping his slackening genitals with a handkerchief and pulled up his pants.

"Can I see you Saturday, Caroline?" he pleaded. And there is the noose, she thought. Check and mate. Just like always.

"No, you silly boy, I will be extremely busy the rest of the week, as I told you earlier. "I will phone you when I have some time free. Now you really had better go, or you may miss your daughter's graduation." Her final pronouncement was followed by a soft peck on his cheek, seemingly perfunctory but in truth placed there with true regret as a token of an apology that would never-- could never-- be enough. She opened her personal organizer and began to study the pages with an intense interest. Geoffrey got the hint and trudged out of the room toward the elevator. The conference room door had almost shut before the first tear dripped unnoticed onto her appointment book.

Jennifer, still standing in stockinged feet on the cool concrete floor, hands pulled behind her and tightly cuffed, had had about enough. Her arms were aching and she could feel a cold trickle of wetness from her own pussy making its way slowly down her leg. "Okay, I've watched your little show, you cold bitch. Disgusting, I'll grant you, but I didn't expect any less." A momentary surge of bravado welled up within her as she impulsively added, "If you're going to fucking kill me, just get it over with."

The blow came from her left and caught her on the cheek. A moan of surprise escaped from her lips and her vision turned momentarily white, which disintegrated into a series of bright sparks. In the second it took her to fall to the floor, the thought flitted through her mind, God, I didn't expect her to actually do it.

Allison watched with some satisfaction as the little bitch went down and bounced, the flaming red angry imprint of an open hand already forming on her left cheek. Jennifer lay on her right side, gasping, blinking, stunned, and weeping with anger, shock, and pain. Her tormentor moved to stand over her, fists clenched, the rustle of silk and nylon as loud as a chainsaw in the stillness. "There are worse things than death, my little bitch, infinitely worse. You can wager that your fate here shall not be quite so simply resolved!"

Jennifer refused to respond, merely writhed on the floor in pain, eyes watering, nose running. I have to buy time. I can get my hands in front of me if she just gives me a few more seconds.

"Your lesson is NOT over yet!" An impossibly strong hand twisted itself into her hair. "You see but you have not learned. Indeed, one wonders whether you are capable of learning," Allison spat, "but I promise you that, if nothing else, you SHALL learn that insolence has its price." A moment passed while the sniffles of the agent of the United States government abated. Though it was insane, Jennifer hoped against certain knowledge that Allison would be satisfied with silence.

"ANSWER ME!" Allison roared.

"Yes, ma'am", Jennifer mewed, apparently trying to curl into a ball, her nyloned toes finding no purchase on the smooth, cruel floor, skirt bunched around her waist, burning cheek pressed into the coolness of the stone. Allison felt mild wonder at the fact she was not only conscious but coherent. In days not too far gone lesser blows had rendered other women insensate.

"No, bitch," Allison bit each word between gritted teeth. "You shall say, 'Yes, Mistress.' You have had pleasure at my hand today, Special Agent Jennifer Melissa Hunts. I assure you that you do not want to taste more pain."

Another cold thrill of fear cut through the heat of her slapped cheek as Jennifer realized what Allison had just called her. "Sweet bleeding Christ, she knows my name. My REAL name." Her full bladder quivered with fright as the implications of this development raced through her mind. All thoughts of escape had temporarily vanished from her mind. Her sole purpose now was survival, for she was quite certain that Allison would not hesitate to strike her again, and truly did not know if she would stop short of killing her.

There was but one course of action left to her. Allison had the gun (and doubtless was fingering it even now), she knew too much, and -– worst of all -- was in a towering rage. Handcuffed, stunned, half-naked at the feet of her captor, Jennifer knew she could ill afford to do anything but play her game… for now. And after all, talk was cheap. "Yes, Mistress." Jennifer answered, attempting to get to her knees. She was truly shocked to feel Allison's hands gently lift her to her feet, and guide her a few steps to her right to a chair that she hadn't previously noticed.

"Very good, my little Agent," Ms. Taxton murmured as she helped the younger woman sit. "Was it really so hard to say? You can see that civility is repaid in kind. Just sit and watch our dear Caroline, and do pay attention." She gently caressed the red hand-shaped welt on Jennifer's face with her lips, softly planting a small kiss right in the middle of the palm. That mark was, she admitted to herself, making her very excited. It had obviously affected the girl in a similar way, Allison thought, judging from the moist marks on the floor where Jennifer had sprawled. Excellent. Perhaps the conditioning was taking effect a little quicker than expected.

For her part, Caroline Holcomb was again seated in the same chair she'd been in a while earlier, either unaware or unheeding of the struggle that had taken place not seven feet from her. It was almost inconceivable that she had been subjected to a thorough fucking not ten minutes earlier. "God," Jennifer thought, "she must be leaking all over that chair."

Not another ten minutes passed, many of which were consumed by the pair watching Caroline touch up her makeup and apply a fresh coat of lipstick, before another visitor breathlessly yanked open the door to the conference room and enthusiastically greeted the gorgeous young brunette with a very intimate kiss. No other preliminaries were observed. Caroline stayed seated in the leather chair with her slim legs crossed. Christ, she thought. Can I do this? Please let me find the strength.

"It's been a week, Mistress," George Walter Nakamoto, comptroller of Matsushita U.S.A., said as he dropped his trousers to the floor and revealed a considerably larger and even more turgid member for the detached inspection of the girl twenty-five years his junior.

"Yes, George, I can certainly see that you are in need of some serious relief," Caroline responded, kicking off her gray pumps. She wriggled her toes at him, her nails perfectly polished a deep red, gleaming like rubies through the gossamer veil of the reinforced pantyhose toe. "I just couldn't wait for you today, so I had to catch that big hunky boy from the mail room I was telling you about. You do remember me telling you about Demetrius, don't you, George?" Her silky feet glided across the carpet as her legs slowly widened, filling the room with the music of nylon. Mute George stood transfixed, gaze rapidly flicking between Caroline's sweet feet and the ever-widening opening between her thighs, his erection actually bobbing with every beat of his heart.

Caroline closed her eyes as if in reminiscent bliss, licked her lips, and one hand glided into her gray blazer, gently cupping her full left breast as her mouth formed an "o". Just say it, Goddamn it. They're just words. "Yes, Georgie, he grabbed me in his big black arms, took me to the supply closet, and absolutely ravished me. I'm surprised they didn't hear my screams all over the floor." Her eyes opened and she stared with the half-lidded gaze of a slut directly into the frozen executive's face. His eyes had relinquished the lesser nirvana of her feet and were now fastened irrevocably on her now-spread legs revealing the precious spectacle of her sperm-soaked panties. Her hand continued to work on her nipple. "Ohhh... uhmmm.... yes, I begged him not to cum in my pussy, I really did, but Demetrius just wouldn't listen." She fixed him again with her gaze. "My poor little pussy has been dripping for about an hour. Get over here, George, and clean it up for me."

As if launched from a catapult, the Asian-American sprang forward, went to his knees, and buried his face in Caroline's musky, sticky crotch with an inarticulate, desperate groan. As he began to bathe her with his tongue, Caroline looked directly at the glass barrier which concealed Allison Taxton and Jennifer Grey with something very much like hate.

As she watched the drama in the conference room, Jennifer felt the unmistakable rise of another orgasm from the growing heat deep within her belly. Like a fisherman watches a huge wave approach from half a mile away, she watched it come: knowing it will capsize you, but absolutely helpless to do anything about it. Her breath came in gasping pants, pelvis reflexively undulating against the rough upholstery of the chair, the soaked cotton and nylon fibers of her abused gusset panel rubbing raw against her clit, she rode the swell upwards and her abdomen clenched for the inevitable plunge down the face of the wave.

Just before the peak, she was only slightly startled to feel hands gliding across her bare breasts, gentle but firm fingers rolling stiff nipples between them, back and forth, providing the delicious friction that magnified that moment on the very crest, the ultimate summit of the wave. Just before her eyes clenched shut, she saw Caroline's soft stockinged feet stroking up and down the shaft of her lover's cock. The orgasm hit with full force then, the rippling convulsions traveling from her throbbing cunt and spasming asshole to envelop her entire being. It was literally painful in its intensity, and it lasted what felt like minutes. The sheer power of it tore a ragged, tortured scream from her throat, a scream of release and rage and submission, and --as she felt the fingers relentlessly kneading her achingly stiff nipples--a generous amount of shame.

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