A Taxi Driver Tale - The Package

As consciously aware of what I'm doing as she is, she can't possibly though have guessed at my motives as my fingers clench her member and repeatedly slip back and over her girth from base to tip.

My hand works faster, slipping up and down her shaft monotonously as I manipulate and massage her now rock hard dick. There is no need to prolong the moment I seek. There is only a need to provide an effective demonstration.

Leah gasps and groans as I quicken my pace, muttering insults at me through the gag.

"Are you gonna?" I offer.

Leah shakes her head furiously her wrists pull frantically down at their cuff restraints as she lays there painfully aware of the predicament of her circumstances. As her arms remain stretched out above her with dressed bunched around her forearms I relentless keep up the stimulation the fingers wrapped tight around her dick provide.

"I think you are..." I goad her "...you will ...don't fight it you little whore."

She angrily mumbles into the metal gag that prises her jaw open, her eyes screwing shut spilling tears down the sides of her face as her hips buck and writhe.

Even as she protests my hand continues to work over her dick at a furious pace now as I tighten my grip seeking to gain the quickest reaction from her.

Leah's breath is shallow and frantic as I keep up my stimulation my hand working quick and mercilessly as I abuse her as she keeps bucking her body to desperately try to avoid the inevitable.

"You're going to cum for me Leah... aren't you?"

Eventually her protests subside as her body locks rigid on heavy deep rasping breaths, my hand continues to masturbate her as her breath becomes increasingly nasal while her lips wrap around the silver gag. A tension that had slowly grown now grips her body, I note her lower legs raise a little as they are tethered together hung over the edge of the table.

"That's it..." I leer, "...don't fight ...don't resist it you disgusting little bitch."

Her protests passing now to whimpered mewls rather than screams and pleas as I goad her towards an unimaginable climax.

"Come on Leah..." I whisper "...don't resist it ...don't resist it."

Her eyes open and close slowly, eyelids flickering as her gaze shifts to her left to fall upon me, I note from the corner of my eye how her hips and flat stomach ripple, rising and falling almost in unison with the stimulation I offer.

"Pleaashhh" I hear her beg through the gag once more, "Donttt pleashhh donttth."

"You want me to make you cum?" I offer.

Her eyes locked on me she shakes her head but she can't fight the physical betrayal of her body as her eyes slowly begin to roll into the back of her head behind eye lids adorned with dusky purple eye make up.

"You want your filthy immoral release don't you?"

Verbally goading her as my hand works at an unrelenting pace as I seek to gain the most sordid of climaxes.

Feeling her body lock completely rigid now against her restraint as she lays stretched across the hard surface of the steel table.

"Noooopph..." she pleads into the gag, "...noooh"

Leah's back starts to arch, she snaps her head across to her left shoulder unable to face me, unable to look at me.

She knows her body is about to betray her.

Her tiny breasts rising and falling as I keep up the unrelenting pace of my grip, wrestling my own moral ambiguity as Leah's breathing builds to a trembling crescendo.

Her thighs tremble and shake, her feet pointing from beneath the restraint of the spreader bar as her whole rigid body spasms.

I feel her, feel the pulsating through her dick as I clench and try to stave off her reaction. Seconds later as I angle her dick back towards her slender midriff and feel a wet warmth slipping over my fingers. I don't look down, I don't need to see, I hear her frustrated groan pass towards heavy sated breaths as her stomach muscles contract and relax repeatedly as she squirms upon the surface of the stainless steel table.

Releasing my grip from her shaft, her cum coats my fingers but as I look down I can see the ropes of ejaculate that steak across the high waist band of her dark denier nylons sat over her hips up onto her toned flat stomach.

Bringing my hand up over her face I viciously flick my wrist sending droplets of her own ejaculate across the right hand side of her face.

Reaching out I wipe my fingers across her chest. As I look down into her pale eyes as she turns once more to face me. Wet semen glistening on her face in the dim light.

"Seems like you enjoyed that."

Leah makes no response as she lays there physically recovering.

Five minutes later she gasps into the gag once more as I stand over her to and coat her pretty face in thick white ropes of my own ejaculate.

"Good girl..." I exhaustedly offer feeling the last of my quickly earned climax pass, "...I think I mean girl."

**********

"I think we'll skip the spinning rings and go straight to the Leah Pointer has a dick reveal"

Having taken the photo I need I slip my phone into the back pocket of my jeans as I step away from her.

Leah sits naked, but for the hideously torn nylons, with her hands cuffed now behind her back as she sits upon on a little wooden chair. The spreader bar still between her ankles as the skinny little blonde shakes her head incredulously as I reach behind her and start to unbuckle the straps of the spider gag.

"You fucking animal..." she finally snarls at me angrily with her mouth finally freed, "...you won't get away with this"

"Oh I will..." I do not even turn to face her, "...because you're going to let me."

"No ...No you won't get away with this," Leah reiterates, her conviction unwavering.

"I will..." I turn to meet her bloodshot eyes beneath matted dishevelled dark blonde hair that has slipped loose from her long ponytail, "...that little clip I just showed you was encrypted and live streamed around the world."

I pace gently in front of her as I speak. The lie I spin her covering the fact that her entire experience has just been live streamed to a select audience who have paid a premium for such privilege.

"Try as we do there's no guarantee someone hasn't already recorded a version and uploaded it else where... but right now my colleague Frank will be editing a version of our... our encounter and that's the version you'll pay us for... to ensure that it makes it's way into the public domain."

"The evidence against you will be damning..." Leah sneers "what... what... you did to me."

Her breath quivers as she lets out a prolonged exhale that's obviously tainted on her disgusted memories.

"I'm anonymous... my face won't be seen..." I offer on a confident tone, "...your face will be seen... known already by the thousands of sheep on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter and wherever else you post your nauseating content... What was it you called them earlier... Your Pointers?"

I step back towards her as she sits there bound upon the chair

"And this is a wild guess but I'm guessing that what's sat between your legs is a secret the internet isn't aware of... so for once you'll pay to avoid exposure."

Her head shakes but her eyes betray the realisation that my threat holds.!

"Everything you do must be monetised..." I offer calmly, "...you'll just be giving us a little kick back going forwards... a cut of your profits."

"You can't... you can't..." Leah stammers her croaky voice breaking as her eyes fill with tears.

I watch her as her mind whirs and dwells on repercussion, the damming revelations I threaten to expose that will destroy her garnered online presence or make her infamous.

The decisions on her fate rests as much with Leah's vanity as it does within her need for self preservation. Those who know her must be aware, those closest to her presumably preserve her secrecy.

"All those loyal Pointers... all those brands keen to throw money and products at you... there must be a value to such fame..." I goad her "...or for such fame."

Leah Pointers situation represents a significant step up from the usual threat of extortion the unsuspecting videos Frank and I normally collaborate on. Our participants silence bought for one off monetary sums and peace of mind. Victims coerced for various purposes, the Finance Director, the Teacher, the little Olympic hopeful, the Night Club owner, and now the Online Influencer.

"Twenty percent of your future earnings should suffice," I offer.

Leah Pointer looks up at me her face contorted between distress and unbridled rage.

"Fif... fifteen" she sobs as though she is in a position to negotiate.

"For that extra five percent I'd expect a sequel," I offer shaking my head "...maybe even bring that delightful ex-girlfriend of yours into the performance."

Leah lunges towards me, forgetting all about her restraint.

She gasps as she flounders forward on legs restrained by the spreader bar, landing heavily face first on the dusty concrete floor with a pained cry.

"You're a cunt," Leah whimpers barely lifting her head towards me.

"You don't know the half of it," I ambiguously offer.

**********

Stepping through the lobby of the Highview Bed and Breakfast I cannot help but note the lingering damp musky mess that hangs in the air.

Walking around the unoccupied front desk into the small office space that is hidden from view from the reception by a partition. I find Frank sat behind a bank of three monitors. One offers a live feed to the abandoned factory, the other two concentrate on a wide angle shot of Leah Pointer held prone across the stainless-steel table, while the remaining screen is paused on an image of her admittedly beautiful young face as it contorts in pain around the black spider gag.

"How'd the numbers do?" I offer catching Frank unawares as I note him flinch come jump in his chair.

"Painfully low..." Frank offers as he turns to face me in his swivel chair, "....I've never seen the live stream dip so dramatically on your reveal... was all I could do to not throw up."

"I thought you were liberal minded Frank," I state on a chuckle, noting he has spilt some kind of orange sauce down the front of his light grey sweatshirt as he looks through me in a refusal to bite at my remark.

"It'll sell... the far east markets only though to start, yeah?" I offer, "If she's true to her word then we'll massively financially benefit from her fear of that recording ever hitting the net."

I had driven Leah Pointer home after her ordeal, dropping her off in the underground car park of a Dockside high rise apartment block.

Few words spoken on the completion of a journey that had started five hours previous. Every assurance gained of not just her humiliation, but as best as I can be satisfied of her assurance that for the next six months she would transfer funds personally to the anonymous bank account Frank and I had set up. The healthy balance of which grew on each sordid encounter that the back seat of the ambiguous looking Taxi provided us, alongside of the side hustle that trapped the slew of desperate, usually professional, males who used the Highcliffe Bed & Breakfast for rooms by the hour in the company of our three resident Eastern European escorts.

Illicit financial reward gained either through one off payments or as in Leah's case regular transactions to secure anonymity and eventually what were beloved to be Master Copies of the debauched submissions that played out. The victims of our extortion blissfully unaware that Frank and I backed up and kept versions of every situation that had been manipulated, if only for the purpose of our own sordid archive.

Alongside of the Live Stream of all encounters via the dark web we had stumbled across a highly profitable enterprise.

On occasions the threat isn't financial it's only to ensure a lack of repercussion for us and the promise of a repeat sordid performance, as had been the case with a recent delectable little red headed pick up, who so far has failed to book her repeat booking on the cab I drive.

"What if she claims it's a deep fake?" Frank grunts, cutting into my thoughts as he chuckles.

"The technology isn't that accurate...yet..." I counter, "...besides if she is as popular as she thinks she is the online perverts won't mind a deep fake... doesn't stop you regularly cracking one off to those Ariana Grande deep fakes you access."

Frank attempts to look disgusted, he is probably more disappointed at his failure to delete his browser history if truth be told.

"When you gonna find me a budget Ariana to star in our own production?" Frank offers, reaching for an unopened can of Pepsi sat on the desk.

"I search every night for you" I chuckle as he opens the can of drink.

"Anyway..." Frank offers as he sits back in his swivel chair and glances to the bank of screens, "...none of this distracts from the fact that you wanked off a bloke tonight."

I don't rise to his bait, my own mind easing on what tonight's conquest had consisted of. I offer him just a wry smile before proclaiming, "I need a drink."

"You need a fucking psychiatrist" is Frank's blunt response as I leave him finishing the editing of Leah Pointers disgrace.