Diane Blackmailed

...continued from chapter 12 ...

Diane got up and followed Katie into the bedroom. She changed to a slightly smaller bra, her breasts were beginning to shrink, the saline being absorbed into her body slowly. They were at least a quarter size smaller than two days ago. Katie helped her dress, then walked her to the garage and drove her to work.

CHAPTER 13 [Week 5 Thurs - Fri]

Diane poured herself another cup of coffee. It was eleven thirty. She had fallen asleep at her desk twice already. Her body felt heavy and slow, and sleep was always just a moment away.

Bailey came by at lunch time and handed her her wallet. She opened it. Her identification and money were still there, nothing missing. He opened his hand and showed her two of the little yellow pills she'd been needing all morning. She looked up at him, grateful and eager. He smiled. He sucked in his belly, then pulled out the front of his pants and dropped the pills down into his underwear.

"I'll be down in loading docks at noon. You can come and get them then," he said, then walked back to his office.

Diane got up and wandered around the floor, trying to focus on something. There were reports and emails stacking up in her IN box and her telephone message light was flashing. She knew she wasn't ready for any real work, her brain was too fuzzy. She needed the speed first.

Diane walked out of their office and down the main hall. She turned as a woman walked by. A tall, brown skinned woman with kinky black hair and a short skirt. Diane superimposed Masozi's face on her, felt her cunt twitch. She shook her head. Focus. Focus. She pressed the button for the elevator and waited. Two men and another woman gathered to wait for the elevator. Diane smiled at them, trying to calm down and appear nonchalant. The men couldn't take their eyes off her huge tits. The woman just stared straight ahead. Diane slumped her shoulders. I'm just a piece of meat again, she thought. She saw the woman coming back down the hall and stared at her. The woman caught her eye and smiled. Diane felt a rush of heat between her legs and her nipples stiffen. The woman saw her chest and made an "ugh" face, turning her head away as she walked by.

Diane went to the back of the elevator and rode down in silence. Once she got to the basement, she headed straight to the loading dock. No point being anywhere else, she was just a walking freak show now and wanted to hide.

Bailey arrived at twelve-thirty. Diane was asleep on top of a stack of boxes. He woke her with a slap across the chest. She rolled forward, fell on the floor at his feet. She looked up at him and he smiled. "Right where you belong." He undid his belt and unzipped his pants. Diane reached for his shorts and pulled them down. She saw his half-stiff cock and hairy sack. There in the skid marks of his white underpants were the two yellow pills.

"Go ahead. I know you need them," he teased. Diane slid his pants down further, raised her hand. He grabbed her wrist. "No, no. With your mouth." Diane pushed her face forward, pushed her mouth into the crotch of his underwear, tongue searching for the pills. She tasted his sweat and odor, gagged slightly, but found the pills. They stuck to her tongue and she swallowed them.

"Good. That's all. I'll fuck you later," he said, then pulled his pants up and walked back toward the elevator.

Diane was nearly caught up on her email by the end of the day but hadn't read any of the reports she needed for tomorrow morning's meeting. Her mind kept going back to that closet at Saabira's. How long had it been there? How many other women had spent the night in it? Did Saabira play games like that with Katie and Masozi? Now that she was out of it, she wanted to be back in. She found that she was craving the sweet feeling of those few minutes of sleep between sessions. And that one hour in Saabira's bed. She'd smelled Saabira's body on the pillow and dreamed of touching her, kissing her, pleasing her. And Masozi was always there, standing calmly to one side and watching.

Monish called at ten minutes till five and told her there was an engagement. She told him that her bag had been stolen and all of the pills he'd given her were gone. Could be bring more? He told her yes but they wouldn't be free. One hundred dollars for a bag of twenty. Diane agreed. He said he would pick her up at two a.m. and would bring them with him.

She spent nine o'clock until two in the morning in an old-fashioned suck and fuck session with thre out of towners on a business trip. They were fascinated by her huge boobs and played with them a lot. They were done with her at midnight, but she enticed them to keep going until two by teaching them different ways to hurt her breasts. The most popular was the very low-tech approach of holding rubber bands between their fingers and snapping them against her huge globes. It was terribly painful, but it was what she needed. By the time she left, every inch of her tit flesh was glowing bright red and aching. But she had got off and that was what mattered.

Monish was downstairs outside the front door of the hotel. She handed him the money and he handed her the bag. There were only ten pills in it.

"Last minute price change. Do you want more?" he asked. Diane growled to herself and smiled at him. She peeled two more fifty dollar bills out of her wallet and handed them to him. He counted out ten more pills. Diane knew she was being ripped off horribly, but she wasn't the kind of woman who knew drug dealers so she had little choice but to pay. She popped two of the pills and took a taxi home.

Bailey walked past her cubicle and glared at her. He didn't say anything, didn't even slow down, but Diane knew something was wrong. She turned back to the reports on her desk. Their staff meeting was at eleven, she had an hour and a half to catch up on what she'd missed.

She rubbed her eyes, bleary from lack of sleep over the last two nights. She took another pill, washed it down with coffee and opened the first report. The numbers swam, she couldn't concentrate. Even when they made sense, she was worried that Bailey was screwing her up again, submitting false reports for her to memorize so he could show her up at the next meeting.

Rodrigo said "hi", brought her another coffee, then went back to his desk. She did her best to read the reports but finished only one of the four in time for the meeting.

They filed into the conference room. Bailey sat at the opposite end of the long table. She saw that he was staring at her, anger in his eyes. She had no idea what was going on but it scared her. An angry Bailey was a bad thing.

The meeting lasted only an hour. All through the meeting, Vader kept addressing questions to Rodrigo that he would normally have asked her or Bailey. That wasn't good either. Rodrigo was up on the reports and his data seemed to match hers. So at least the reports hadn't been doctored. She nearly dozed off twice during some of Vader's longer ramblings about corporate policy and upcoming projects but was able to catch herself both times. She did notice that nearly everyone in the room focused their eyes on her chest at least once. She wanted to stand up and pull open her top, show them her titties and yell "there, fuckers! OK! Take a picture!" She rubbed her eyes hard. Focus. Focus.

When the meeting was over, Bailey left the room quickly. Vader watched him go, then looked at Diane.

"Bates. Where were you Tuesday night?"

Diane froze. That was the night of Bailey's party. Did Vader suspect something? Was something going on?

"I was home, just watching movies." She paused for effect. "Why?"

"Just curious. I had a project I was going to call you about but thought your might be out." He shuffled his papers, pushed them into a folder and got up to go. He turned back and looked at her. "At home. All night?"

"Yes, sir. All night."

"Good," he said, then walked back to his office.

When Diane go back to her desk, there was an IM from Bailey. "Coffee shop downstairs." She looked around to make sure nobody was looking and deleted it. She locked her machine and got up, went to the elevator and down to the coffee shop next door to their building.

"Bastards at Johnstown turned us in," Bailey growled. He slammed his hand down on the table, coffee splashing out of his cup. "They're going to pull the account. They're threatening Vader with an ethics investigation."

Diane felt her stomach drop, her entire world collapse. Vader knew. He'd have to fire her. But would he bring charges? Would Johnstown sue? Would the police get involved? In a flash, she pictured herself in the shower at a women's prison, remembered the worst movie cliches she'd ever seen as a teen.

Bailey saw her face. He picked up his coffee and took a slow sip, enjoying her fear. He told her to go order herself something.

Diane could barely stand up, her knees were rubbery, her stomach knotted. She looked at the woman behind the counter. She was staring at Diane's chest. The freak show. She ordered a coffee and the woman took her money as though it was infected with something. She handed Diane a cup and pointed toward the coffee machine. She could serve herself.

When Diane sat back down, Bailey leaned forward. "This is all your fault." He looked down at her chest. The top strained under the size of her boobs. "You and your fucking boob job. What the fuck were you thinking?"

Diane's eyes watered. "I didn't do this. This was *done* to me!"

Bailey shook his head. "Don't make fucking excuses. The lifestyle you live, something like this was bound to happen. And now, Vader's on me. One of the men from the party went to Vader and told him about me."

Diane caught that. "Told Vader about *you*?"

Bailey growled. "Yea, stupid. The man from the party wasn't at our meeting. He didn't recognize you. All he knew was that it was me and 'some big titted redhead' whore. He assumed you were a whore, someone I paid to show up and party with them."

Diane felt a rush of relief. She was off the hook. As long as the man didn't compare notes with any of the others.

Bailey leaned forward. "I'm not going down for this. If there is an investigation, it's going to be about you . I'm going to tell them that you set the whole thing up. I fronted it, yes, I'll take a beating for that, but any ethics violation is landing on you. You, over eager to close the deal, willing to do anything including..."

"Hey, fuck you Bailey!" Diane yelled, throwing her hot coffee at him. He got his hands up in time to protect his face, screamed as the scalding coffee burned his palms and fingers. Diane stormed out of the shop while Bailey wiped himself off with a pile of napkins. He jumped up and ran after her, grabbing her in the lobby and dragging her into a side hallway.

"Hey, you stupid cunt, did you see the way Vader was looking at you? He suspects but he doesn't know. Not yet. Do you want me to tell him? Huh!?" Diane shook with anger and fear. Another step closer to the end of her life as she knew it.

He let go of her. "Maybe there's another angle. I have a meeting scheduled with the man from Johnstown tonight. Maybe I can come up with some kind of a deal."

"What does Vader know?"

"Nothing really. I don't think he gave him any details. He just made some noise about a party and a hooker. Vader's anxious but it wouldn't be the first time something like this happened, so he's not gunning for me." Bailey wiped his hand across his pants, the flesh was still bright red. "All Vader really cares about is that we keep this quiet or make it go away." He looked at her again. "You're the wild card here. Lucky, there were no pictures or movies taken, nothing recorded. If they get to talking at Johnstown, they might put two and two together, but I'm guessing it won't happen. I don't think it's their corporate culture to talk about things like this. To do them, yes. To talk about them later, no."

"How do you know?"

"I don't. It's a hunch. But, face it, guys don't talk." He lifted his hands over, palms up. "It's all I have."

Bailey walked away, went out the front door of the building. Diane thought about what just happened. There was little she could do one way or the other. Right now, thought, she was safe. She went to the elevator and then back to her cubicle.

Diane looked at the clock. It was Friday and nearly lunchtime. She hadn't heard from Monish, wondered if she would have the night free. A Friday night free? Not likely. Bailey had avoided her all morning, so she figured there was nothing going on with him she needed to worry about. Vader had called her into the office but it was just paperwork, an expense item he wanted explained. She saw the disappointment in his eyes as he stared at her chest when she walked in. Her boobs were smaller than they'd been all week, but she was still easily bigger than a DD cup, she still ballooned out any kind of top she chose to wear.

Monish called at two o'clock. He told her to be ready to spend the weekend with some repeat customers. They'd enjoyed her and were paying him extra to let them take her further than last time. She felt her heart race - could it be Masozi and the others? She rubbed her legs together while Monish outlined the plan. She would be picked up at five and driven to an apartment downtown. He'd drop off the customers there. They'd made special arrangements with the landlord and were assured complete privacy. Diane felt her pussy swelling, it sounded so much like something the women would set up.

She worked with savage energy the rest of the afternoon, cleared out her email and read all of the reports for next week. Bailey came by once and asked her how she was doing. Had Vader said anything to her? She said "no" and he breathed relief, said "good".

At five, she went downstairs and saw two of Monish's men. She recognized Matt - the scar always gave her the creeps - but not the other one. They walked her to the van, had her strip and change while they drove. By the time they got to the apartment, she was wearing a pretty flower print dress and knee-height white leather boots. The top was cut low and her huge boobs nearly fell out of it. Just after the van parked, one of the men handed her a butt plug and told her to slide it in. They watched smiling as she spit on it, then opened her legs and slid it up into her ass with a single smooth push.

He handed her the key and told her to take the elevator to the top floor. It was a loft and she would need the key to activate the button. Diane nodded and got out of the van. It drove away as she walked toward the door.

The building looked brand new, in a decent part of town. There was a locked revolving door and a row of mailboxes. She found the one for the loft. The name said "Rossy". Diane grinned at the allusion. She pressed the button and heard a click behind her. The revolving door started moving. She stepped in and walked into the lobby. She pressed the elevator button and when it opened, stepped inside. She put the key into the lock that said "loft" and the motor started up. When it got to the loft, it stopped and the door slid open.

Diane stepped out into a huge single room, high ceiling and everything painted hospital white. In the center of the room was a large Roman column with straps hanging from a metal ring near the top. Diane's eyes fixed on it. She could see discoloration where something - more likely someone - had been rubbing against it. Knee level, waist level and shoulder level. On the walls were whips, crops, and canes hanging vertically from small brass-colored hooks. There was an especially scary looking leather bullwhip coiled on one of the hooks. She shivered.

There was a table with a variety of dildos and vibrators of all sizes and shapes. She also saw a box with wires, clamps, and electrical pads piled carelessly beside it. She thought about those devices in Saabira or Masozi's hands, what they could do to her body with them. Her nipples stiffened and she felt her cunt start to get wet.

She walked across the floor, stood in front of the column. If she raised herself on her toes and reached, she could barely touch the metal ring. It looked old and worn, old world iron brought into this new building to continue its legacy of pain. She pressed herself against the column, felt the cool marble against her chest and belly, pushed her cunt against it, shivered. Where were they? When would they get started? She could nearly hear Saabira's voice telling her to stand taller, grind her hips, scrape her nipples against the smooth marble surface. She closed her eyes, rubbed her hips harder, felt the orgasm far away but coming. Who would take her first? Saabira had her all night, maybe Masozi would start this time. Or Katie. Would Katie hurt her? Was she actually what she seemed, the gentle one, the tender one? She remembered Katie's tongue between her legs, remembered Saabira's toe in her own mouth. It was all starting to merge, cocks, fingers, tongues, toes. She felt dizzy, pressed herself harder against the pillar, imagined Saabira standing behind her with the whip in her hand. She ground her cunt against the pillar now, faster and faster, the orgasm closer.

"Ding!" she heard. She stepped quickly back from the column, smoothed the front of the dress. The elevator door opened and out stepped a scrawny looking man in sweat pants and a grey t shirt. He had short, grey hair, was wearing thick glasses and was carrying a small suitcase. He came toward her and she noticed another figure in the elevator.

It was Bailey. "Mr. Taylor and I have come to an agreement," he said.

Taylor said he was tired and needed a break. He dropped the whip to the floor and walked toward the kitchen. Diane closed her eyes and panted hard, trying to catch her breath. The man was insane. She'd never felt this much pain in such a short time before.

Taylor was an anxious, isolated little man who was still single at the age of forty-three. He spent most of his time either at work, reading, or paying hookers for hand jobs. When he read, he read the history of the High Seas. And when he read those books, he focused on discipline. How the Captain or the First Mate "motivated" their crew. He'd collected a variety of things over the years, had them hanging in his front room. Prints and drawings of men tied to the whipping post or pillory, the mate with his arm raised, the man with his back criss-crossed with lines.

And, he collected the whips themselves. Horsehide, rawhide, hemp, leather, he had collected dozens of them over the years. He collected them from all around the world. He'd seen whippings in Singapore, Thailand, South America, and once in the Middle East. He'd even been invited to participate in one in Shanghai. A man had stolen his luggage between the airport and a new luxury hotel the Chinese government had opened. His punishment was one hundred lashes. Taylor had been allowed to administer the first ten.

The man was tied to a tall pillar, his hands tied above his head with leather straps. The official stripped him to his underwear, then wrapped a thick rope around the man's waist. He wrapped it around the pillar to keep the man from turning around during his beating. The official - an evil looking man in a crisp green uniform with a chest full of ribbons and medals - ceremoniously handed Taylor a whip. It was forty-eight inches long, 12 plait black leather with a three-strap popper at the end. Taylor was tentative about the first few blows and the officer took the whip to show him the way it was done properly. He showed him how to stand, how to snap his arm, how to target the blows. The officer let Taylor take practice strokes until he was satisfied he knew what he was doing. He took eight before they started counting for real.

The officer took over at number eleven. He was much better practiced and the man screamed at the first blow. Taylor had left after thirty one, he couldn't stand what he was seeing.

But, since that time, the image of the man had stuck with him. He would occasionally take his souvenir off of the wall and swing it around the room, snapping it against the sofa or a pillow. He'd perfected his aim and had ached for another chance to use it.

It had been eight years since the trip. Eight years of fantasizing about that day. In the meantime, he'd been exposed to more devices. He'd explained to Diane that the one he brought with him was not so well known now but was very prevalent in its day. It was called a codline colt. This whip was special. It was braided leather like the others but this one was knotted every six or eight inches. That concentrated the force of the blow in tiny areas instead of along the entire length of the whip.

From what he'd read online, most in the BDSM community were afraid to use it, or at least chose not to. Over the years, he hadn't been able to find a hooker, escort, or online freak willing to let him try it out on her. One gay BDSM bottom had come close but backed out at the last minute, leaving Taylor alone with an expensive hotel room and a useless video camera.

Diane was a different story. He and Bailey had been drinking at the celebration and taking about Diane. Bailey told Taylor how they'd met, the kinds of parties Monish pimped Diane out for. Taylor was one of the ones who had tit tortured her that night. He wanted to get a sense of her limits, her depravity, her willingness to be physically abused. When he was satisfied that she not only allowed it, but sought it out, he put his plan in motion.

He'd taken photos of Bailey and Diane at the orgy. Then, he called Vader to say he wanted to talk about a possible breach of ethics, giving him just enough to make him talk to Bailey but not enough to reveal anything. Bailey called him and that's when he told Bailey about the photos. Bailey panicked, promised he would do anything Taylor wanted. And Taylor wanted Diane. No holds barred. Twenty four hours of unrestricted access.

Taylor forced Bailey to make all of the arrangements. With Monish. With Diane. With the club that owned the apartment. Taylor had known about the apartment for years, the BDSM club that owned it made it available for a thousand dollars a night. It was completely safe. It was soundproof, stocked with food and liquor and a variety of pain devices and sex toys. They even offered access to other slaves if you wanted them.

Taylor didn't need any of that, only the place and the woman.

... to be continued if you want it ...

CHAPTER 14

Bailey pressed a cup of ice water against Diane lips. She opened her mouth and he raised the glass. She gulped it eagerly, felt the cool liquid going down her throat, a few drops running down her chin.

"He's a sick little fuck, isn't he?" Bailey asked.

"You're...not...the...one...up...here..." Diane managed between short, labored breaths.