of every exposed square centimetre of her flesh. Crudely applied pain alone she could have fought, but this was something else and she felt her will crumbling.
Soon a dozen pinprick trails crossed Vanessa’s breasts. Helplessly she responded to the stinging pain and pulses of raw pleasure that coursed through her body in the only way left to her.
Through misted eyes, Vanessa saw the Director leaning forwards slightly in her chair as the dildos reamed into her, watching her clitoris rise into hard erection and her bottom bulge as it was filled. The sight sent a fresh thrill of shameful excitement coursing through Vanessa. She was being tortured and masturbated in front of a sadistic pervert. From her pincushion breasts to her dripping vagina, Shiller could see every intimate detail of her ordeal as it led to its inevitable climax.
And Vanessa was going to come, more quickly than she could have imagined. The pressure was building inside her. She couldn’t fight it any longer …
She screamed behind her gag as her body went into orgasm, straining with wonderful futility against the straps and clamps that held her so securely. The muscles of her vagina clamped on to the plunging upper phallus and for a moment its driving motor growled in protest. Discharge sprayed from her tightly plugged orifice and trickled down the impaling shafts. Then she went limp as she descended into the warm dark pit of release …
Vanessa was dimly aware of the dildos being extracted. Her gag was removed and a beaker of water was pressed against her lips. Automatically she drank. Her groin ached with its exertions and her breasts burned. Sweat was drying on her body. Blinking her eyes open, she saw Miss Kyle and the Director examining her with obvious satisfaction, and knew with despairing certainty that they had made their point. They controlled whatever pain or pleasure she experienced. Her pinpricked breasts throbbed in their wire cages. The stinging had diminished to a tolerable level, but it was a continuing reminder of what could be done again.
‘Now,’ Shiller said briskly, ‘perhaps you will tell us what we want to know?’
Too shocked to resist any further, Vanessa choked out: ‘All right … just … please … don’t do that again …’
‘Address the Director properly,’ Miss Kyle said, giving a warning pinch and twist to Vanessa’s engorged left nipple.
To her intense shame, Vanessa found the humble, subservient words bubbling from her lips. ‘I’ll tell you everything … Director. About a month ago, Mr Enwright … my editor … said he wanted to speak to me …’
Two
ENWRIGHT WAS ALONE in the boardroom when Vanessa entered, but displayed on the big video-conference screen was the head and shoulders of a thickset man in his late fifties. He had grizzled hair and a heavy jaw, and in one hand held a cigar that he was jabbing at Enwright.
Vanessa gave a start at the sight of the famous features. It was Sir Harvey J. Rochester, owner of the
Globe
, half a dozen regional newspapers and numerous other international business interests.
Enwright motioned for Vanessa to take a seat. Sir Harvey’s eyes flickered as he looked her up and down through the camera mounted over the screen.
‘So you’re Buckingham,’ the magnate said in his familiar gravelly tones. ‘Enwright tells me you show a lot of promise. Bright, enthusiastic, go-getting.’ Sir Harvey took a puff on his cigar and waved it at Vanessa with a chuckle. ‘Reminds me a little of myself when I started out.’
‘That’s very kind of him … and you, Sir Harvey,’ Vanessa said meekly.
‘Enwright wasn’t being kind and neither am I,’ Sir Harvey replied bluntly. ‘I can recognise talent when I see it. This may be your chance to show us what you’re really made of. Think you’re up to handling a big story, Vanessa, one that’ll put your name on the front page?’
‘I’d like the chance, of course, Sir Harvey. But if it’s as big as you say,
Soon a dozen pinprick trails crossed Vanessa’s breasts. Helplessly she responded to the stinging pain and pulses of raw pleasure that coursed through her body in the only way left to her.
Through misted eyes, Vanessa saw the Director leaning forwards slightly in her chair as the dildos reamed into her, watching her clitoris rise into hard erection and her bottom bulge as it was filled. The sight sent a fresh thrill of shameful excitement coursing through Vanessa. She was being tortured and masturbated in front of a sadistic pervert. From her pincushion breasts to her dripping vagina, Shiller could see every intimate detail of her ordeal as it led to its inevitable climax.
And Vanessa was going to come, more quickly than she could have imagined. The pressure was building inside her. She couldn’t fight it any longer …
She screamed behind her gag as her body went into orgasm, straining with wonderful futility against the straps and clamps that held her so securely. The muscles of her vagina clamped on to the plunging upper phallus and for a moment its driving motor growled in protest. Discharge sprayed from her tightly plugged orifice and trickled down the impaling shafts. Then she went limp as she descended into the warm dark pit of release …
Vanessa was dimly aware of the dildos being extracted. Her gag was removed and a beaker of water was pressed against her lips. Automatically she drank. Her groin ached with its exertions and her breasts burned. Sweat was drying on her body. Blinking her eyes open, she saw Miss Kyle and the Director examining her with obvious satisfaction, and knew with despairing certainty that they had made their point. They controlled whatever pain or pleasure she experienced. Her pinpricked breasts throbbed in their wire cages. The stinging had diminished to a tolerable level, but it was a continuing reminder of what could be done again.
‘Now,’ Shiller said briskly, ‘perhaps you will tell us what we want to know?’
Too shocked to resist any further, Vanessa choked out: ‘All right … just … please … don’t do that again …’
‘Address the Director properly,’ Miss Kyle said, giving a warning pinch and twist to Vanessa’s engorged left nipple.
To her intense shame, Vanessa found the humble, subservient words bubbling from her lips. ‘I’ll tell you everything … Director. About a month ago, Mr Enwright … my editor … said he wanted to speak to me …’
Two
ENWRIGHT WAS ALONE in the boardroom when Vanessa entered, but displayed on the big video-conference screen was the head and shoulders of a thickset man in his late fifties. He had grizzled hair and a heavy jaw, and in one hand held a cigar that he was jabbing at Enwright.
Vanessa gave a start at the sight of the famous features. It was Sir Harvey J. Rochester, owner of the
Globe
, half a dozen regional newspapers and numerous other international business interests.
Enwright motioned for Vanessa to take a seat. Sir Harvey’s eyes flickered as he looked her up and down through the camera mounted over the screen.
‘So you’re Buckingham,’ the magnate said in his familiar gravelly tones. ‘Enwright tells me you show a lot of promise. Bright, enthusiastic, go-getting.’ Sir Harvey took a puff on his cigar and waved it at Vanessa with a chuckle. ‘Reminds me a little of myself when I started out.’
‘That’s very kind of him … and you, Sir Harvey,’ Vanessa said meekly.
‘Enwright wasn’t being kind and neither am I,’ Sir Harvey replied bluntly. ‘I can recognise talent when I see it. This may be your chance to show us what you’re really made of. Think you’re up to handling a big story, Vanessa, one that’ll put your name on the front page?’
‘I’d like the chance, of course, Sir Harvey. But if it’s as big as you say,
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