Slave Of Hate

ACT III - ACTION

Having worked through a lot of his teenage kinks and lifetime fantasies he then grew a little bored as the novelty of a new sex toy wore off and other things caught his interest. She still had to serve every second weekend, but after some desultory BDSM and sexual service he began to regard her as a potential asset for corporate recruitment and retention.  

“I’m going to pimp you out, my Gook whore”  - she bristled at his words. Not being called a whore - she’d become numb to the sexual slurs, but rather his racist carelessness in misidentifying her ethnicity- she was Chinese, not Vietnamese! 

“What do you mean….Master?”  the last word reluctantly tacked on through near-gritted teeth.

“I thought I would share you with some close colleagues - they’ve performed well at work, but rather than give them a new car or a million dollar bonus, it’ll be cheaper if I just reward  them with you for a night each once a week”

“What? That wasn’t the deal- just every fortnight with you” 

“I’m altering the deal, pray I don’t alter it any further” he parodied in as deep a Vader-voice as he could manage.  DoucheBro continued on “I expect you to deny them nothing. I’ll tell them you are an all-access, kinky, depraved hooker who doesn’t know the word ‘No’.  If I get any complaints then we’ll spend the next weekend in a dungeon torturing the shit out of you. 

After sending her to a beauty salon to get her hair teased and sprayed  into shape, and porn-quality makeup applied, he presented her to his colleagues  in the following slave costume, designed to accentuate her exotic submissiveness. Glossy black high heels and suspenders. An ornate cupless corset patterned with sinuous golden dragons.  Long black evening gloves accessorised by shiny handcuffs to pin her hands behind her, forcing her to lead with her bare tits. And he topped it all  with a black leather slave collar, a chain leash hanging between her breasts and terminating in his hand, making DoucheBro’s complete ownership of her very clear. 

Jen Yin stared ahead as impassively as she could manage, glad that the mortifying shame and embarrassment she felt was not reflected on her beautiful face. She had her pride and her hatred nursing those burning feelings to get through being paraded as a bare-breasted slave before a room of lascivious men. She could feel DoucheBro’s leering eyes on her naked flesh and even though he held the end of the leash attached to her slave collar, she made particularly sure to never acknowledge his existence if possible. She despised DoucheBro so much that she refused to even think his name- so horrifically despicable was he to her.

Three other leering men had been introduced to her, but like DoucheBro, she stripped them of the dignity of a name in her mind and instead nicknamed them for their eventual function. 

First was WhiteKnightLite - a tech and math nerd, he was the brains behind DoucheBro’s  complex financial manipulations, his quantitative analysis and programming skill ripping apart derivative risk and identifying profit. He’d dated even less successfully than DoucheBro, so seeing a beautiful half-naked woman up this close in the flesh had   his jaw  on the floor. An instant crush flared in his eyes. 

Next was FatPig - he managed DoucheBro’s pharma company - obese, balding he eyed her up with a unconscious lick of his lascivious lips before his phone went off and he pulled his eyes away from her perky nipples to focus on a screen message. He was unfit and always working, so she knew that as soon as he came he’d fall deeply asleep. 

Last was NervousNellie, Lawyer for the company- his eyes widened at the sight of her too but focused on the corset and collar. His right hand twisted across the fingers of his left, hiding his wedding ring from view. He gulped, planning the infidelities and  submissive desires he’d never reveal to his wife. 

DoucheBro didn’t know it, but he had just introduced her to Escape and Vengeance Plan A. 

That first meeting in DoucheBro’s apartment didn’t quite go as she’d expected or end with the expected (gang)bang.. For all DoucheBro tried to flaunt her as his Asian sexdoll, as the next level in executive stress relief toys, the other 3 men were all too shy and embarrassed to show any skin. DoucheBro wound up sending her crawling around the living and up to each in turn, seductively offering up the leash attached to her collar. Then, still crawling on all fours, she’d lead them to the guest bedroom and service them, while the other two chatted awkwardly with DoucheBro. Having rotated through them, the best he could do to end the evening was to propose playing cards around the table, with a naked Jen beneath the table sucking the cock of whoever won the last hand. Though she couldn’t see their faces, the muffled conversation from above seemed as tense and strained as their thighs whenever she unzipped them- these men may have worked with DoucheBro professionally, but none could be at ease with him.  

In yet another petty fit of douchery, DoucheBro assigned her to visit WhiteKnightLite every Tuesday, FatPig Wednesday’s and NervousNellie Thursdays- not fortnightly but weekly. While she pro-forma protested, it was mostly to lull him into a false sense of sadistic control- the weekly meetings could only accelerate her plan, even if she had to suffer being whored out.  

She was coming back from her weekends with DoucheBro a complete wreck, and this schedule would prevent her from helping out in the restaurant much, so she sacrificed the remainder of her savings to keep it afloat. Her parents were worried about her, but she couldn’t tell them of her predicament -they’d go to the police or put an end to it, even if it cost them everything. So she bottled it all, all the tears and grief and abuse and forged it into an iron core of burning vengeance. She just had to get through another few months of this. 

All three of the men were different- not sociopaths like their boss but they must have suspected something was wrong with the situation yet none spoke out. Each was weak in their own way. 

WhiteKnightLite in some ways was the kindest and most loving but also the worst and most hypocritical. Shy and nervous,  he’d welcome her into his lonely apartment dominated by huge screens. He’d dress up for her visits- tame his hair, put on a shirt and tie, offer her flowers and chocolate strawberries. They went out for ‘dates’ and he’d almost blush with pride when he strolled the park with a beautiful woman hanging off his arm. He was naive and romantic and he wept after the first time he softly and sweetly unknowingly raped her (as she would not have fucked him without being blackmailed). He rapidly fell in love with her and it would not be unfair to say she seduced him into it- seemingly returning his affections and cultivating him as an intelligence asset. She confessed (without expanding on it) that she wasn’t a paid hooker but that DoucheBro was blackmailing her and forcing her to attend him. What made him a hypocrite was that for all his breathy promises to save her, to marry her, to run away with her, he would never cross DoucheBro and never stopped fucking her every visit.

Instead she learned from him- he sat her in front of his many trading monitors and expounded on the tricks of his trade in financial engineering. She motivated him to open up by giving him a handjob for as long as he talked- her slim fingers slick with lube rubbing and twisting up and down for hours at a time, as it all spilled out of him eventually.  He talked her through how he’d made DoucheBro a fortune by rolling over funds from one investment into another, how the same collateral could be pledged multiple times, how to make a Ponzi scheme last forever by constantly moving on to new industries and how derivatives and shorts could multiply your wealth if you were willing to take the risk and break the law. Her endless handjob edged him to reveal where all the financial skeletons were buried, each breach of trust rewarded with an orgasm. Though awkward, gangly and a coward, he was a genuine financial genius and she soaked in his tutoring, her Harvard-trained mind following it all. She asked him to set her up with anonymous bank accounts and a broker to short stocks- if she knew a month in which a company would suffer from bad news, then she could make a fortune by betting against it. 

FatPig on the other hand cared little for Jen, just what she could do for him. A man of the world, most of his sexual interactions with women were paid- it was simpler, cheaper for him and he always got what he wanted.  Plus he was obese, crude, sexist and rough in bed, so had never married. Her weekly visits were basically a useful tax break for him,  saving him the cost of a weekly high class escort, particularly as they’d grown scarce in pandemic quarantine.. She quickly discovered that he tired very easily- so she maneuvered him into pounding missionary fucks and while horrific to see his sweat drenched cum-face and wobbly belly over her, as soon as he came then he rolled over and fell into a deep sleep.  His work Iphone unlocked with a comatose fingerprint and she’d spied out his computer password whilst massaging his back as he worked late. She’d learnt something of the companies key personnel and issues from what she’d overheard whilst fellating him under the desk during conference calls and now she could exploit all this knowledge and access to have the run of the pharma companies systems and files as he snored.  She thought of it as sexual social engineering. 

The company confidential files contained all the evidence to back up the stories WhiteKnightLite had confided in her- material mis-statements of profits, suppressed testing results, email chains about deceiving the FDA and SEC. Then a thought struck her- DoucheBro was absolutely toxic around Asian women. Was she the first he’d targeted or were there others out there?  She found them in the HR files-  three women had complained about DoucheBro sexually harassing them at work functions or in the office. Two had accepted settlements and signed NDA’s, but the third refused to sign anything and only seemed to be keeping quiet to keep her job.  She soon extracted all the information she’d need and started looking at how some of the company’s financials were structured and how the money flowed out and in. 

NervousNellie was a married man, so on Thursdays they met in anonymous hotel rooms paid for by cash or corporate cards. Brought up traditionally, a public model of probity and respectability with an even more proper wife he was a man filled with forbidden desires and deep shame at the depraved feelings they elicited.  She became his secret little temptress and Mistress- together they explored analingus and pegging,  cross-dressing and cum-eating. He was her dirty little sissy-boy, and she made sure to use blindfolds and hoods often- it made recording him so much easier.  Photos of his lips stretched around plastic cock or being taken like a bitch and videos of his betrayal of his marriage vows and masculinity  in thought and deed, soon piled up. 

He blanched and begged when blackmailed but Jen had learned her lesson from DoucheBro and left NervousNellie no other option than to comply. If she didn’t delay an automatic email filled with attachments every 12 hours, then it would be sent to his wife, his church and those online media outlets which get clicks from scandal and who barely censor pictures for decency. He was a lawyer but knew this wasn't a matter of law, but reputation. And he also knew how to comply and cover his tracks. He would lose some paperwork, countersign a routine transaction, donate a patent and keep his mouth shut. And in three months, all the photos would be wiped. 

Whilst she had seduced, spied upon and suborned his underlings, Jen still needed to attend to Douchebro every second weekend.  He’d grown less imaginative but more vicious, so along with all the usual throatfucks and hate-rapes he tried out pissplay, turning her into his ‘slant-eyed urinal’. She was dressed as a pinafored Japanese Maid with ludicrous heels and flouncy skirt to dust, clean and serve him drinks and endure his groping. He tried having her re-enact some of the scenes from his favourite movie (Showgirls) but pole-dancing requires some practice so when that failed he hired a dungeon and educated her on rattan canes and worst of all riding the wooden horse- a horrifically painful experience that had her screaming till her throat was raw and her pussy felt like it had been cleft in two by that cutting triangular beam that her weight split her upon.  Finally he tried to instill dread in her by saying he was planning a trip south of the border so she could put on a ‘dog and pony’ show for him, and she had to end this soon.

Sex with 3 to 4 men a week, Douchebro’s increasingly brutal tortures and the stress of espionage  was taking a toll- she lost her appetite, couldn’t sleep and felt exhausted and spaced out constantly. Her parents worried about her but still she couldn’t explain where she went most nights. But she was having success-  the keylogger she’d planted on this computer had intercepted a lot of incriminating messages as he planned his next business fraud, and it recorded his cloud password. She went through his files, finding much that was incriminating. 

Oddly though, his most secure and encrypted folder was just named ‘Family Jewels’  and it took forever till she could open it. Much to her surprise it wasn’t anything nefarious, but rather a keepsake of all his most precious memories and digital possessions. There were photos and genealogies of his family. Touching tales from grandparents of life in the old country. Transferred VHS videos of childhood parties. His early teen poetry (awful, naturally) and diary. A photo of the first nude he ever got. A digital recording of that unique rap-record which he’d publicly destroyed, so he’d never lose its rhymes. Emails of love between his girlfriend and him.  And even that first picture he’d snapped of her surprised and naked at MangaCon. It was his digital memories, organised, preserved and protected- clearly it meant everything to him. A thought entered her mind….

(To Be Concluded in Act 4- Denouement)