Industrial Espionage

by Midanfor

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© Copyright 2021 - Midanfor - Used by permission

Storycodes: F+/f; anal; group; oral; vag; gag; frame; transported; warehouse; drug; enema; kidnap; latex; nc; X

Her lithe body strained against the tight leather straps. Her brain strained against the tempest of sensations she was experiencing. The only part of her body she had any control over were her eyelids, she screwed them tight shut to block out her reflection in the ceiling wide concave mirror that completely filled her field of vision but that only made matters worse. Deprived of the visual distraction that gave meaning to her predicament, there was no way to stop the six digits flashing across the black screen of her minds’ eye in stark white figures as if trying to burst out through her eyelids.

Two people sat in a small but well furnished conference room in a modern office building on the other side of the country. They are watching a cctv feed of the girls’ struggles on a large screen mounted on the oak panelled wall. “Are you certain she’ll break?” The man who asks is a tall, hard faced man in his early fifties dressed in the sort of suit that advertises wealth and power without ostentation. A gangster dressed like a banker.

“She’s probably broken already, but we like to make sure. Better to be safe than sorry.” The reply comes from between perfect, scarlet-painted lips, the sensual drawl escaping between even, pearl white teeth. Where he is the image of conservative subtlety, she is the epitome of provocative sexuality. Tall already, towering on red, patent heels. Long sculpted legs sheathed in nude stockings are revealed to mid thigh by a slit in a long, low cut silk dress the same colour as her heels and lips that seems to flow over her as she crosses the room to pour drinks for her client and herself. Malt whisky for him, white wine for her, she needs to keep her wits about her. They turn their attention back to the helpless girl filling the screen.

Jessica, that was her name, after all. Not that she would have been able to swear to that or anything else at that moment, found herself in a sterile, white room. Floor and walls tiled in brilliant white ceramic, the ceiling; a huge, polished mirror. She lay stretched on a specially designed table. The table was a long, inverted “Y” shape, just the right size to strap down a girl of average height and build. It is white like the rest of the room, padded vinyl with shiny chrome fittings for the straps. Her arms are pulled high above her head and strapped together at the wrists and then individually above and below the elbow joints. The straps have been applied with great expertise. Tight enough to make movement impossible but carefully placed to avoid any discomfort, It isn’t THAT sort of torture, it was far worse. A white cord has been plaited into braids in her coal black hair and then tied off to the table keeping her head immobile and staring straight up. More straps encircle her torso. Above and below her heaving breasts and one more at the waist. If she remembered anything at that moment it would be that her legs had never been spread quite so wide. Again, the stresses of her body had been calculated to the last millimetre and she felt no discomfort in her hips in spite of the position.

“Is the outfit relevant to the interrogation procedure?” The client asks as he sips the whisky. A valid question. The stretched out Jessica is not, as he had expected, naked. Long opera gloves in pink latex reach from fingertips to mid bicep. They match the latex stockings, broad leather collar and jaw stretching rubber ball gag. Her breathing is reduced to short gasps by a tightly laced corset in black patent leather. The finishing touch is a pair of laced up ankle boots also in shiny black with ballet heels. “Oh yes, very, erm, relevant.” The woman smiles, glad of an opportunity to talk about the process she has worked so hard to perfect. “First of all, it sexualises the subject. Every time she looks in the mirror, the subject sees someone else. She isn’t a high powered, educated, independant woman with a position of influence in an international merchant bank, she’s just a sexy doll. This helps to focus the mind on that part of the consciousness and reduces her resistance to the stimulation even more quickly.” He nods in silent appreciation and pulls his chair a little further under the conference table, hoping his erection isn’t obvious. The woman is very aware of his discomfort and rises to her feet. “Besides,” she drawls as she glides around to his side of the table. She leans in to him from behind, her lips almost touching his ear as she continues in a whisper, “I’ll stream the video online, it pays almost as much as you do, honey.” There was a third reason but she would keep that to herself. Truth be told, she was just a very, very kinky woman at heart.

Jessica knew exactly why she was there. She knew what they wanted from her but she had no idea how she had got there or where she was. Her last memory had been leaving the office on Friday evening. Late as usual, she worked very hard to get where she was, where she had been. Click - clicking across the marble floor of the foyer in her designer heels, she looked every inch the Vice President of one of the largest banking houses in the city. Her tailored business suit comprised a dark blue, pinstripe jacket that buttoned tight at her narrow waist and accentuated her full bust. A tight knee length skirt in the same material caused her to plant each foot directly in front of the other causing her firm bottom to sway in just the right way to attract attention without appearing wanton. Her toned thighs moving under the cloth flowed into tapering calves in sheer black nylon.

It had happened as soon as she was on the pavement, the rush hour crowd oblivious to her as she had raised her hand to hail a taxi when, suddenly, an arm encircled her waist, pulling her backwards and almost off balance. Too shocked to cry out, she had been briefly aware of a gentle strength in the arm. A whiff of feminine perfume and then a sharp sting in her left buttock as the plunger on the hypodermic was depressed before the world faded to black.

The team of kidnappers were very professional,very specialised and very expensive. They had bundled the unconscious Jessica into the back of a private ambulance, stolen for the purpose. There were six of them and they worked in silent unison. They used scissors to remove every scrap of the expensive suit before restraining her limp, naked body to a normal hospital trolley for transport. They stripped off their own disguises, each woman wore a mask, good enough to look like a face at first glance, good enough not to elicit a second glance. Blonde wigs, long coats and tight jeans. Under the disguise, each woman wore a brilliant white, latex catsuit that covered her from head to foot. No hair or skin was visible. The only openings in the suits were holes for the eyes, mouth and two small slits at the nostrils. Lips were painted scarlet and eyelids were heavily made up in dark colours, coloured lenses gave them all the same, deep blue, eyes. There were no distinguishing features and even though they had lived and worked together for months, they knew nothing about each other nor could they describe each other. Height and build were disguised further by heavily boned corsets built into the suits, padding at the breasts and ballet boots. As mentioned earlier, the mastermind behind this team was a very kinky woman indeed. She had personally designed the suits for the women she had individually selected and seduced for this job. The highest quality latex had been moulded individually from computer scans of each of the six operatives making the suits almost impossible to wrinkle or tear. The women wore the suits under disguises whenever they met for training or planning meetings and, in fact, now felt strange when not wearing them. Apart from obscuring identifying features such as skin colour, tattoos or piercings, they made it almost impossible to leave trace evidence or DNA at any of the “crime” scenes. The suits had a second (but far from secondary,) function in that they had also been designed to heighten the operatives’ concentration on the task in hand. Where the suits were padded at the breast, a recess in the padding trapped each nipple in a suction cup studded on the inside with hard rubber nodules that squeezed, stroked, tugged and “nibbled” at the nipple with every movement of the body. There was an invisible zipper at the crotch of the suit for physical needs to be taken care of in private. Another sucker like the ones for each nipple had been employed in the same way for her clitoris. It had taken hours of training over many months for the operatives to be capable of anything as simple as walking down the street without collapsing in a sweaty, orgasmic mess. Now they could function perfectly well, carrying out their mission with all the required skill and dexterity in spite of being extremely horny, this horniness only belied by occasional sharp intake of breath if they sat down, bent over or stood up too quickly or perhaps the biting of the bottom lip whilst climbing the stairs and the constant fidgeting whilst trying to sit still in briefings. Crossing and uncrossing of legs, rubbing together of thighs etc.

Each suit was fitted with speakers at the ears and a microphone at the throat keeping the operatives in constant contact with each other and their controller wherever they were. Ultra fine wires embedded in the suit criss crossed the body all of them terminating in a Lithium ion battery that had been cunningly shaped as a butt plug the size and shape of a goose egg while the communication centre and gps locator were in a titanium capsule similar to a kegel exerciser that had been ergonomically designed to give a nice “full” feeling while the butt plug ensured that the textured surface remained firmly lodged against the g spot. Finally, a light electrical charge ran through the suit making every inch of the skin tingle.

We don’t know her real identity and probably never will but the alias that cropped up most often was Virginia. Virginia had been planning this kidnap for a year, ever since she had pitched the idea to the gangster who was sitting, sipping whisky in the rented office building.

In play were billions of dollars, the key to which was currently strapped to a table in a white room. It was now accepted in security circles that any online system could be hacked. For this reason, Jessica had come up with a simple yet ingenious solution. The accounts of her more sensitive clients, (military dictators for the most part,) were held OFFLINE! When one of her clients wished to perform a transaction, a specific amount of money was taken from an account held on the computer in her office that had no internet or wireless connection of any kind, converted into bearer bonds and processed through an account belonging to one of the banks’ legitimate clients and no no one would ever be the wiser. Imagine, billions of dirty dollars sitting in the memory of a computer that couldn’t even stream a video of a kitten sneezing. To access the funds you just needed to sit at Jessica’s desk, oh, and type in Jessica’s six digit code. Breaking into the office would be easy enough, the operatives were all experienced in infiltration, getting the code required a more imaginative approach.

Jessica had been kept on the hospital trolley for the trip across town, an intravenous drip kept her under sedation as the ambulance pulled into the underground car park of the nondescript warehouse. Five of the operatives took charge of Jessica while the sixth, the driver and the only one still in street clothes, drove the ambulance to some waste ground. Checking there was no one around, she got out of the cab and stripped down to her suit, tossing her clothes and her wig into the back, she pulled on a white crash helmet and trotted, as fast as the ballet boots and infernal suit would allow, to the far side of the wasteland where she mounted the motorbike she had left parked there. As she sped back to the warehouse and her colleagues, an incendiary device ignited in the back of the ambulance. In minutes, all evidence was erased. She thoroughly enjoyed the ride back, the throbbing of the bike’s engine amplified through her nipples, clit, ass and pussy.

Upon her return, she discovered that preparations were continuing apace. First they had flushed Jessica out thoroughly with a succession of enemas. Next they had used a feeding tube to pour a thick liquid mixture into her stomach. The gloop looked and tasted horrible but that didn’t bother the unconcious girl, importantly it would keep her fed for days, no hunger to distract her. Although Jessica was neatly trimmed, they had waxed all her body hair. This made it easier to slide the latex on to the limp limbs and would make everything more sensitive. Finally, they wheeled her through to the interrogation suite and secured her to the table.

Once secured, she was revived with smelling salts. They left her alone for fifteen minutes to become accustomed to her predicament. When her panic had subsided, Virginia had spoken through hidden speakers. “Hello Jessica. You don’t know me and we will never meet. I want the access code to your computer.” At this, Jessica had begun to strain and protest through her gag, “I understand you don’t want to tell me right now but you will in time. I’m going to leave you with my associates for a little while. The next time we speak, we’ll take out that nasty big gag of yours and you WILL tell me the code.” Virginia had chuckled as she closed the connection and sat back with her client to watch the show.

At all times, three women worked on the restrained body. One stood on each side of her torso, sucking, licking and nibbling a nipple each while their fingertips stroked and tickled the sensitive exposed skin between gloves and corset. The third woman sat on a stool between her legs. Kissing the soft, pale skin of her upper thighs. Stroking her lower tummy with one hand. Teasing her pussy lips and her clit with the pointed tip of a silky tongue. Every ten minutes, a bell would change and the women would change places. The woman who had been on pussy duty could retire to the sofa to masturbate with the two other resting women while the woman on left nipple would move to pussy detail, right nipple moved to left and a rested set of lips and fingers went to work on right nipple,

The women were under strict instructions not to stop for even a moment, furthermore, there would be no orgasm for Jessica. They were being paid a hell of a lot of money for this “work” but if Jessica came before she gave up the code, there would be a penalty of fifty percent of the money. So they licked and they nibbled and they sucked and when the bell chimed they moved around and continued licking and sucking from a different angle. Every thirty minutes, the constantly horny operatives got a thirty minute break, they would lay back on the cold, hard tiles of the floor, unzip the suit and finger or dildo themselves to orgasm after orgasm.

Whilst they had been preparing the hapless executive for this torture, the girls had become very intimate with Jessica’s body and had concluded that she was an anal virgin. To make the work more interesting, they decided to have a little fun with her ass hole. They were equipped with a selection of toys with which to stretch and delight any butt but they’d had a better idea. Counting on their fingers. The first woman on pussy duty would finger the tight hole with one digit the next, two, and so on. By the time the bell had chimed for the fifth time, all four fingers and a thumb would be giving a gentle, internal massage, Number Six would close her fist and spend ten minutes giving her a deep, hard fist fucking before the bell rings again and her sphincter could relax around a single digit again. This was the only way Jessica could keep track of the hours. They had been supplied with industrial quantities of lube both for themselves and for their victim. The lube for Jessica was kept separately and the operatives were under strict instructions not to use it on themselves. The reason for this was that it was spiked with a small dose of LSD. As Jessica was trying to hold on to her sanity which was being eroded by the constant stimulation to her nipples and clit, each ass fisting was sending her on a kinky, horny trip.

To be continued…

All mine. M. XXX


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