Its All About Image...

Of the two rooms not covered by cameras, one was the Loft appartment, whose use was restricted only to those people who had Paul Hegarty's personal approval. It was usually empty. The other was where Mike now made his way. A discrete security system limited access to a small room tucked away at the back of the house. No one would find it if they were not invited. Two of the four walls were covered in TV monitors and banks of recording equipment. From here, Mike Levine was master of his kingdom. Ruler of his technological empire, Mike had more than two hundred cameras at his disposal. Nothing would happen in this house without Mike knowing about it. He walked across to the main isolation box and powered up his control room.

"We have lift off!" he muttered under his breath. "Let the games begin."

==========================

Dan and Paul sat together in Paul's Canary Wharf office discussing the events of the past two weeks.

"So why don't we interview Casino lady?"

Dan looked slightly abashed as he answered.

"Well, there were two reasons really."

"Mmm"

"The first was that I found a couple of names in her flat. I recognised one of them as Vegas Mafiosi, so that slowed me down for a start."

"And the second?"

"This is embarassing."

"I don't care. Tell me."

"OK", but don't laugh."

Paul looked slightly bemused, but nodded his agreement, waiting for his brothers revelations.

"Well, when we got back to her hotel room, she excused herself to get changed. That's when I looked round and noticed the names. She came back into the room and fell straight into my arms, so I had no trouble screwing her, quite the contrary in fact."

"I'm all ears."Paul smiled.

"Well I kissed her. When I ran my hands up to grab her arse, she starts panting. I'm not joking it sounded like a dog in heat. and it gets worse. I strip off and stick my dick up her cunt. She loves it, just like we expected she would, but suddenly I hear this noise. It sounds like someone had started up a buzz saw, a low quiet rattle with a background hum. I had never heard a noise like it. The next thing, the volume starts going up, and I realise its coming from her. I only poke her a couple of times before the hum becomes a full blooded wail, and by the time I get some speed up she's screaming at the top of her voice. The noise was fucking awful."

"Is that it?" Paul started to chuckle as the story unfolded.

"Not likely!" The screaming gets louder and louder. The guy next door starts banging on the wall. Then the guy on the other side starts banging on HIS wall shouting "Shut the fuck up" or something similar. Well I'd had enough by then, but she wouldn't shut up. She starts doing railway whistle impressions, and someone from the Hotel staff starts banging on the door telling her to shut up because she's disturbing the other guests.

Paul by this time was helpless, tears of mirth running down his cheeks.

"Anyway I thought if I got off her, she would quieten down. Fat Chance! While I'm struggling into my trousers, she's giving it the five finger shuffle. Whole fucking hand in up to the wrist. Honest Paul, any self respecting bloke would run a mile, and I did. I sprinted out the door and legged it fast.

"Guess you decided not to invite her for seconds then? laughed Paul, regaining at least a vestige of control."

"Too right"

The two sat in silence trying their best to acquire sufficient dignity to sensibly discuss their options with the other two women. Dan had been completely won over by Claire Brady. He was sure that Paul would agree. She was up for it, and would be ideal. In the meantime, Pauls investment in Ingeborg Rassmussen had convinced him and he was coming to the same conclusion about her. It took them only a few minutes to make their decision. Do both!. Claire could run a catering company where the waitresses would offer the full service, and if Inge passed her final test, she could run the exclusive executive service as an extension to her PR Portfolio.

"In that case, why don't you get Claire started. Saturday's party would be ideal. We will only need a few girls, and Sonja will be able to provide them. In the meantime, I will finish checking out our PR Lady."

"OK! Consider it done. Are you going to the party?"

"No. Leave that to the boys. I think it's best to keep our distance don't you?"

"Yeah your right, but it's a pity eh?"

==========================

It had been a long morning for Ingeborg Rassmussen. She sat behind her large desk staring into space. Her secretary had been so concerned she had cancelled Inge's appointments for the morning without being asked. She knew she had to decide now. It would take her exactly twenty minutes to reach the cafe once she left, so she had to make her mind up. She decided! She wouldn't be treated like that by any man. In a highly agitated state she went for a pee. Sitting in the confines of the toilet stall, the gushing of the warm liquid did nothing to put her mind at rest. She stared at the knickers lying in a heap around her ankles. In that moment she knew she would succumb. It was the second time that morning she had made such a decision. When she had dressed in the morning, she had decided to wear a loose jumper which disguised the fact that she had left off her bra. She didn't want anyone in the office noticing that she had removed it at lunchtime, they might rightly assume the worst. At least, as she stuffed her knickers in her bag, no-one would notice she had left them off. No-one, that is, but that damned Paul Hegarty. At 12.30am she was outside the cafe. In a reversal of yesterday's role, Paul came out as she approached.

"Glad you could make it. Follow me!"

She tailed behind him like some family pet until they reached a dark metallic green Porsche at the curb. He walked round to the passenger seat and held open the door. As she lowered herself into the seat it was impossible to hide her nakedness from him. This time he did not look into her eyes. He stood back and gave her legs an admiring gaze all the way from her slightly parted knees up to her womanhood itself. Without comment he closed the door, walked swiftly round to the driver's side and climbed in.

He drove steadily into the city for the few minutes it took to reach a carpark at the base of a tall steel and glass tower. They entered the elevator, where he extracted a small key from his pocket and used it to operate an unmarked button at the top of the control panel. When he spoke, it was with his usual perfunctory manner.

"Take off your blouse and skirt."

She looked at him with an unspoken plea in her eyes. "Don't make me do this" was what she was thinking, but no words came out. As the elevator doors closed she slipped off her blouse, and dropped her skirt, leaving herself standing in nothing more than hold-up stockings and high heels.

"Face the corner." She did so, as the elevator began it's journey skywards. Judging by the regular "pings" at each floor, they were about half way up when the lift came to a stop.

"Stay!"

She did so. Looking in the reflection of the polished steel panels she could see people moving past. None gave her a glance. As the door started to close, horror of horrors, a young woman hugging a bundle of files to her chest rushed into the confined space between her and Paul.

"Good morning Janice."

"Good morning Mr Hegarty."

Inge couldn't believe it. Although the girl was looking intently at her bare arse, from the conversation you would not have known that Inge was there. Her face, by now, was the colour of beetroot with embarrassment and her relief was palpable when the elevator finally stopped, and Janice got out.

At the next stop, Paul summoned her to get out herself. The door opened into the lobby of an opulent penthouse suite furnished in the finest timber and fabrics. As she looked around her, Paul stood behind, smiling. Any moment now her conversion from Ice-maiden businesswomen to his plaything would be complete.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her across the plush carpet, through a door and into what turned out to be a bedroom, dominated by a huge bed at least two metres in any direction.Still without speaking, he stood her against the bed and pushed her gently until she knelt on the floor, bent over the end of the bed. He made no attempt at conversation as he removed his clothes, leaving Inge sweating with anticipation as she waited for the fucking she thought was coming.

The blow, when it came, took her completely by surprise. The pain was incredible. He struck her across her buttock just once with the flat of his hand, causing her to scream in pain. As she cried out, she tensed herself waiting for the next one. Instead, he knelt beside her and gently began to massage the bright red imprint he had left on her white skin.

"Next time I give you an instruction, you will know how to comply won't you."

His words, whispered gently to her, seemed like a caress.

"I will" she whispered through her tears in return. The thought of not doing so never crossed her mind.

As his penis nudged gently at her opening, she could only regard the thought of it as reward. She knew how to behave for him, and the wonderful feeling as he slowly entered her would guarantee her subservience for as long as he wanted her. The slickness of her cunt eased his progress as the huge dick slowly found it's way deep inside her. Her muscles tightened as she responded to the beautiful invasion, alternately squeezing and relaxing as she warmed to his presence. He slowly wound up the pace. the heat in her groin began to affect the rest of her as she felt her arousal reaching bursting point. Faster and faster he began to pump in and out of her quim. Laying with her face in the bedcovers, Inge took a mouthful of fabric and bit down hard, fighting to contain the orgasm which was about to break. Still he speeded up. His rhythmical pounding against her arse could be contained no longer. She felt like she would die.She couldn't breath, it was as though her lungs had shut down. All four limbs went in to spastic seizure, jerking uncontrollably as orgasm after orgasm ripped through her, and he spent inside her.

He was the perfect gentleman. Taking her gently by the hand, he led her to the shower, where they made slow languorous love together, each taking obvious pleasure in the ministrations of the other. Afterwards he dressed her, making his selection from a closet containing the most beautiful designer clothes. After a gourmet meal served en-suite, he drove her home, leaving her at the front door with a chaste kiss.

"Come to my office tomorrow. 3.30pm." He didn't need to add "Don't be late."

She knew she would be there.

========================== The proposition was simple. One of Paul's people would call the agency and book a celebrity to appear at a particular function providing an escort to a major player of some sort. Businessman, Politician, anyone wanting a high profile companion. Inge knew this was normal, what was the big deal. When Paul described what would be expected afterwards, she almost had apoplexy.

"You can't ask Stars to do that! For gods sake it would be the end of their careers if it were to get out. There is no way any of my stars will agree to that."

"Inge. I own you and your company don't I."

"Yes!"

"Then when I tell you something what do you do?"

"What I am told."

"Good girl. Now! Follow me."

He led the way into a small room. A screen on one wall was faced by a small gathering of comfortable sofas and chairs. Paul indicated a chair, and Inge sat down, a puzzled expression on her face.

At his signal, the lights dimmed, and a flickering image appeared on the screen. For a couple of minutes, Inge absorbed the atmosphere of the party she was watching. Although it was a real, spontaneous party, it was filmed by a professional, and would not have looked out of place in a television play. She recognised several of the attendees as actors, pop musicians, singers, and artists from her own books. The camera cut to an intimate discussion going on in one corner of the main room. A young arab was engaged in deep conversation with Vanessa Draper, one of Inge's most valued clients. The boy on the screen took Vanessa by the hand and led her from the room.

Inge glanced sideways. Paul sat expressionless looking at Inge's reaction as the film unfolded. Quizzically she returned her gaze to the screen.

Vanessa and the arab were in a new room, a small bedroom. Although the lights were dimmed, or even off, the film was crystal clear and showed the youth leaning against the wall waving a small polythene bag between his fingertips. Vanessa was laughing , playfully wrestling with him as she tried to grab the bag from his fingers. He raised his other hand and wagged his finger from side to side in silent admonishment.

"Naughty! Naughty!" she heard clearly as they smiled at each other.

"OK you win. You can have it."

"Thank you Jamal, thank you."

"Hey, not so fast. I will serve it to you."

"Ok, I'll find a mirror."

"You won't be needing that." As he spoke, he deftly flicked open his fly and exposed a long thin dick which sprang to attention as if on command.

"See what an effect a beautiful naughty lady has on my dick?"

"It's a very handsome dick," Vanessa giggled.

Jamal slit the top of the bag with his fingernail, and before anything could be said, spread the white powder in a long thin line along his erect weapon. Vanessa burst out laughing and kneeled in front of him.

"You are wicked, but if this is the price I pay, then pay I shall."

Jamal had stopped laughing now, his face taking on a more serious look as the most beautiful actress on television lowered her head, placed her nose on the end of the line, and snorted the coke directly off his manhood. She raised her head as the rush hit her, before looking back at his tool.

"You had better lick it off you naughty girl, before anyone sees it."

"This is mine. No-one else is going to get any of it."

Vanessa lowered her head and licked along the edge of his tool. Jamal's hand came up behing her and gently guided his dick into her mouth. Her eyes closed as she savoured the salty taste of him mingling with the sharpness of the coke, and she began to move her head backwards and forwards along its length. Jamal also closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall for support. As he came rapidly to a climax, Vanessa began to suck, drawing his watery sperm into her mouth and down her throat.

"That was great, just what I needed," muttered Jamal.

"Me too. See you in a couple of hours."

Inge looked away from the screen as the clip finished.

"OK! so one of my clients takes coke. They probably all do. It still doesn't mean that you will get her to do what you want."

"Inge. Trust me. Jamal is the nephew of Sheikh al-Benarbia, Emir of Qualia. The Emir will not be pleased when he finds out about this."

"It will still take more than the threat of public exposure of a coke snort to persuade someone like Vanessa."

"Of course. What you .... and she doesn't know is that Jamal is only 14. The public can be unforgiving when it comes to paedophiles."

==========================

The curtains were closed, the room darkened by the deep purple drapes. On the edge of the bed, Vanessa Draper sat staring at the wall. She couldn't believe how she had got herself into this situation. It wasn't unusual for Vanessa to act the part of a paid escort, but this was out of her control. There had always been serious money to be made for accompanying an upwardly mobile young businessman or budding new star to a public function. Sometimes it would be a simple case of self promotion for either or both of them. Of course, the public had no idea how these matches were made, and probably wouldn't care even if they did. Vanessa was therefore not suprised when Inge explained how a client had contracted Vanessa's presence to escort a wealthy Arab businessman to the premiere of the latest James Bond Film.

Things had gone well. Sheikh Suleiman had come in person to collect her. As they climbed happily out of the cream Rolls Royce, flashguns popped, shutters whirred and the smiles were genuine enough. Vanessa was enjoying herself. Her host appeared the perfect gentleman, and a good time seemed assured.

It was in the Rolls on the way back to her hotel that he had dropped the bombshell.

"You will join me for a drink in my suite." It was a statement, not a question, and she naturally put it down to perhaps a misunderstanding with the language.

"I don't think so, thank you. I'm tired. It has been a really nice evening, but I really must get back."

"Please, watch this, then we will discuss the rest of the evening." He produced a compact disc from the armrest pocket slipped a player from the storage unit beneath the seat, and sat back as she watched the video unfold.

"So you see, you will join me for a drink in my suite."

"If you say so."

The atmosphere in the car changed. Cool was an understatement. She knew that her career would be in tatters if the disc were to be made public, and whilst she knew she must do everything to prevent him going to the press, she was not sure that being fucked by him was a price she was prepared to pay.

"I could call your bluff, you know."

"I don't think so. Jamal is just a kid. You will go to jail. Just think where your life will be then."

That had all been an hour ago. The Sheikh had entertained her with music, a couple of drinks, even a funny story or two, but now it was time for her performance. The Sheikh pushed open the bedroom door, and stood still for a while as his eyes got accustomed to the gloom.

"You still have your clothes on. I thought I told you to take them off."

Vanessa stood up and swiftly removed her dress, bra and pants. There was no point in playing for time, she had no choice. He was determined to make her fuck her way out of her predicament. He walked across in front of her and looked her in the eyes. His hands reached across and grabbed each of her breasts, fondling and twisting them slightly as he felt their weight.

"Pity you don't have bigger tits." he murmured, more to himself than her. "Let me see your arse." He handled her like a piece of prime horseflesh. Professional, smooth, running his hands over her buttocks to test thei firmness. She stood still, humiliated by the whole experience.

"Bend!" The instruction was clear, and she bent at the waist offering her bottom to his gaze.

"Spread the cheeks." She began to really get worried now. Despite her fairly free attitude to sex, she was still an anal virgin, and she had a horrible suspicion where this was going.

"No. I won't allow you to touch me there."

"It doesn't have anything to do with you. Do It!"

"No!"

Sheikh Suleiman looked down at the perfect globes presented to him. For a moment he toyed with the idea of threatening once again to expose her to the authorities.

"Fuck it!" he though to himself. "This has gone on long enough!"

He grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, and pushed her down on to the bed. She wriggled free, turned over and began to beat her fists into his arms and shoulders. Struggling, he managed to capture both her wrists in one hand, and slap her across the face with the other. Vanessa knew she could not get away. Her eyes filled with tears and she began to plead with him.

"Please, don't rape me. Please, let me go. I'll do anything you want, but don't hurt me."

The Sheikh was in no mood to negotiate. He let go of her wrists, grabbed her by the ankles and wrenched them apart. Then with a heave, he lifted them high, and pushed them over her shoulders, leaving her gasping for breath as her thighs pushed down on her breasts, forcing her deep into the mattress. Suleiman gathered her ankles in his left wrist, and spat on the middle finger of his right hand. Vanessa began to whimper, shaking her head in tiny movements, her knees tight against her cheeks. Suleiman was beginning to enjoy hmself now. He slowly rubbed the end of his fnger against the little rosebud of her arsehole. The effect was instant. Desperate to avoid it, Vanessa began to wriggle her arse. The movement only succeeded in helping his finger slide into it. Gripping her sphincter muscles she desperately tried to force his invasive digit out, but there was no way he was going to let that happen.