Corporate Takeover

Ms. Wiswell was the CEO of Dynamic Corp, one of the fastest growing businesses in the country. This was no easy feat, and she had reached that spot by ruthlessly undercutting and then buying out her competition. She didn't waste time feeling guilty about it - that was what it took to be a successful businesswoman in this day and age.

In fact she was immensely proud of what she had built. Dynamic Corp was the top-valued US company helmed by a woman, and not only that, boasted an all-female board of directors, security team, and more than 80% female employees. She had been written up in profiles by the New Yorker, Forbes, the Guardian, and countless others. At only 35, she was a rising star in her industry, and everyone wanted to come along for the ride.

Late Friday afternoon she was finishing up a lengthy process to buy out Flexible Solutions, owned by one of her greatest rivals. It had been a tireless fight by her legal team, and after many months she was finally celebrating with a glass of wine as Stacy Lee, her personal assistant, and Rachel Brooke, head of legal, finalized the process. Drew Grant, the CEO of Flexible Solutions, hadn't even had the nerve to come in for the meeting himself, sending one of his lower-level executives instead.

She raised her glass to the executive, offering a toast. "To future success, and new opportunities."

But he didn't return the gesture. Instead the door burst open and a masked man with a long gun entered her office. "Don't move!" He held the gun firmly pointed at Ms. Wiswell.

She panicked, dropping the glass and sending wine and shards all over the closing paperwork. "What the hell is this? How did you get past my security?" She pressed the secret button under her desk, but Taylor, the head of security, didn't appear.

The executive grinned. "Well, it looks like the tables have turned. I believe I have the upper hand here, and you'll soon see that my men have convinced some of your employees to join us instead. Now take off your clothes."

"What are you talking about?" Ms. Wiswell demanded.

"This is absurd," Rachel sputtered. "You can't be serious!"

But with the masked man's gun still pointed at the three women, Ms. Wiswell's lawyer was forced to strip to her underwear. The executive folded her arms behind her back and tied them tightly with black rope, wrapping more rope around her chest above and below her breasts. He didn't pass up the chance to grope her boobs, and when she tried again to protest, he silenced her with black duct tape over her mouth.

Ms. Wiswell could only watch as he tied her assistant up the same way, leaving both of them kneeling in front of her desk, where moments before they had been celebrating their big win. "This is ludicrous! I don't know what you think you're doing, but you can't just assault my employees like this!"

The executive ignored her and turned to the masked man. "Ms. Wiswell and I are going to take a walk. Make sure the lawyer and the assistant are properly secured, sampled, and prepared."

"Yes, sir!" the masked man replied sharply, grinning down at the two helpless women.

The executive pulled out his own handgun from his pocket and gestured toward the door. "Well, Ms. Wiswell? Shall we get moving? You have another meeting downstairs, and we simply can't be late."

She reluctantly turned away from the assailant and stepped through the door. Ms. Wiswell gasped, shocked by what she saw outside the penthouse office. Cindy, Sharon, and Beth, the remainder of her legal team, lay on the floor, bound even more tightly. Their legs were tied together and pulled sharply up behind them, fastened to the ropes looped around their necks and running down the front of their chests. Their backs arched deeply and they could barely move, kicking their feet in protest of the tight bondage.

Standing over them was another masked man, who had clearly just finished undressing. His huge penis bobbed erectly in front of him as he contemplated the three women before him. Finally he settled on Beth, releasing the rope holding up her legs and lifting her by her huge boobs to bend her over the counter.

Ms. Wiswell kept her eyes forward and pretended not to hear the wet sounds of sex start behind her as she continued down the hall. But rather than fading away, it seemed like the noise was only growing louder.

Soon the reason became clear. Several more bound women, still wearing police hats (but nothing else) were pinned against the wall near the elevators by the masked men assaulting them. The intruders thrust into the women, bouncing them up and down with the force of their attention. The women's bound breasts shook wildly and their helpless legs kicked the air as they were fucked. Black tape covered their mouths and eyes, leaving them unable to respond or communicate, trapped inside the experience of their personal nightmare.

The men gripped each woman under the hips, groping and squeezing their asses, even sometimes slapping one. Ms. Wiswell watched one of the men suck and nip at a woman's neck, causing her to squeal behind the gag and kick her feet even harder, though of course it was no use. The men were all hugely tall and well-built, possibly members of some kind of organized force. The policewomen had stood no chance against them.

On the floor lay Taylor and her security team, bound and sweaty, clearly having already been sampled by the masked men. They breathed heavily over their gags, unable to do more than recover from their own pounding. Against the wall stood several more policewomen, bound to the railing and nervously awaiting their own fate.

The executive pushed Ms. Wiswell past the graphic scene and towards the elevator doors. He pressed the down button, then stepped back to wait, holding her firmly in front of him. He reached up to grope her breasts, squeezing first one and then the other. The gun still pressed into her side meant she could do nothing to resist him, and she squirmed helplessly in his grip.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" he hissed into her ear. "That you could just stomp out Flexible Solutions like we were some half-baked startup?"

"All our terms were completely above board," she replied, "and your legal department signed off on - ow!" She gasped in pain as he gripped her nipple through the thin fabric of her top and twisted it firmly. "Stop! Stop that!"

He pulled harder, snickering. "I don't give a fuck about the legal team. It was all a ploy anyway, to keep you busy while we worked out the kinks in our real plan."

"What are you talking about?" Ms. Wiswell was up on her toes from the pain of his grip.

He didn't answer, and the elevator doors slid open, distracting her from her question with a new scene of debauchery.

Julie was the building's elevator attendant, and though her position was somewhat dated in this day and age, she was a huge part of building morale. Her smile and cheery disposition charmed everyone who entered the building, which was very good for business.

But now neither smile nor cheer were visible. Like everyone else, Julie had been tightly bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Her uniform hat tilted sharply on her head, threatening to fall off with every thrust of the masked man between her legs. He held her firmly against the mirrored wall of the elevator, one of her legs up over his shoulder, the other shaking with the effort of holding herself up against the assault. Her always neatly pressed uniform lay crumpled on the floor.

The executive pushed Ms. Wiswell forward into the elevator and followed behind, selecting the third floor before resuming his casual groping of her boobs. She could feel the unmistakable sensation of his growing erection pressed against her ass. Despite the assault on her own body, in the cramped quarters she couldn't help but stare with horrified fascination at the rape going on less than two feet away. Julie and her assailant were so close that she could feel the heat from their entwined bodies, causing the mirror to fog and the elevator to reek of sex.

With her arms folded and bound behind her, Julie could only flutter her hands uselessly against the man's grip. He held her firmly by the hips and ass, his fingers sinking deeply into her creamy skin as he pulled her roughly against him over and over. Ms. Wiswell could even see his thick shaft sliding wetly in and out, the girl's vulva obscenely spread by the angle of her legs.

She squirmed in the executive's grip, and he bucked his own hips against hers, chuckling. She was beginning to feel heat building in her own center, and she tried desperately to ignore the sensation, but the obscenity before her was inescapable.

The masked man was oblivious to his audience. He pounded faster and faster, sandwiching the girl between him and the mirrored wall, her sweat beginning to leave streaks on the glass. She moaned into her gag as his pace increased, barely able to stay upright in the face of the onslaught. Finally he gave one last vigorous thrust, groaning loudly as he clutched Julie even tighter against him, clearly coming hard.

The intruder slid slowly out of the elevator attendant, leaving her to lean heavily against the wall, chest heaving as she gasped for breath over the gag. He turned to Ms. Wiswell and the executive, saluting him cheerfully, unashamed of his still-dripping member on full display. "The job of a lifetime, huh, boss?"

"If it's done right," the executive agreed. The elevator chimed as it reached its destination and the doors slid open. "We're on our way to the board of directors. Get her packed up with the rest of them in the parking garage, then sweep the 6th floor for stragglers. We need to get the whole thing wrapped up by midnight."

"Yes, sir. I'll finish up here on the way down." The masked man pushed Julie down onto her knees and peeled the tape off of her mouth.

"Wait, plea-" her protest was cut off by his already-hardening dick shoved into her mouth, and choking sounds filled the elevator as he began to fuck down her throat.

Ms. Wiswell shuddered as they left the elevator and poor Julie behind. But as they continued down the hallway on the third floor, it was clear that the whole ordeal was far from over. Muffled moaning sounds echoed through the building, and they only grew louder as she approached the office suites.

Despite everything she'd already seen that day, the graphic scene was enough to stop Ms. Wiswell in her tracks. Even more women were bound, gagged, and being fucked everywhere she looked. Susan from Accounting was lying on a table on her back, legs spread, a heavily tattooed man pounding wildly into her faster than she thought possible. The intern (Britney? Bethany? Stephanie?) who had brought her coffee that morning lay next to Susan, and Linda from HR had been folded over on top of her from the side of the table, their bound chests pressed together with every thrust from the masked man currently buried inside Linda.

More bound women lay on the floor, some being fucked by members of whatever team was carrying out this crazy scheme, some enjoying a brief respite from the sex, none of them able to escape what was happening. Ms. Wiswell stepped gingerly down the hall, her Louboutin heels catching on discarded clothing. Some of the women seemed to hear her passing, calling out for help behind their gags, but of course there was nothing she could do.

The heat building inside Ms. Wiswell was becoming harder and harder to ignore. She was shocked and appalled at what was happening to her employees, but her body was responding to the constant stimulation, and there was equally nothing she could do about that either.

When they reached the boardroom at last, she was largely unsurprised to see her entire board of directors, stripped, tightly bound, and gagged, squirming on top of the meeting table. The executive steered her to the head of the table, taking time to slap a few of the women on the ass as he passed. He pushed her roughly down into her seat as CEO, his hand firmly on her shoulder to prevent her from rising.

At her seat there was a new contract laid out, a pen ready for her to sign. She scanned the terms quickly, growing more and more outraged. "Absurd! This is a total handover to Flexible Solutions, including all our assets! I'll never sign this!"

"As you can see, all our terms are above board," the executive replied mockingly. "And, given the circumstances..."

She felt the muzzle of his gun pressed against her temple. Ms. Wiswell loved her company more than anything, but certainly not enough to lose her life. She picked up the pen and signed, hissing retribution the entire time. "This will never stand up in court. Documents signed under coercion are null and void, and when my legal team gets ahold of the footage from today, Flexible Solutions will be ruined. Drew Grant will rot in jail and you'll be right there with him. You can't possibly think you'll get away with this."

The executive closed the documents in a manila folder. "Oh, your legal team? Didn't you see? They're already hard at work getting to the bottom of today's events, in any way we want them too. I think they'll have a lot of red tape to struggle out of before they're ready to bring a case against anybody."

"You bastard!" Ms. Wiswell leapt to her feet and turned to face the executive, but he was ready for her. He kicked the chair out of the way, pushing her back against the table. Before she could stop him, he grabbed her waistband and tore off her skirt, leaving her only her one-piece top, stockings, and heels. She gasped as he manhandled her onto the table on her hands and knees, two more masked men stepping forward to hold her in place.

"These fine gentlemen will take care of you from here. You have one more appointment today, and it's absolutely mandatory. Try to enjoy yourself! I sure will." The executive waved the manila folder tauntingly as he left the room.

The men holding her pulled her arms tightly behind her back. They tied her wrists together, then tied more rope around her elbows and even her upper forearms, pressing every inch of her arms together. She groaned as her shoulders were stretched to their limit. When they pulled her to her feet she realized that the tight binding also forced her breasts to stand out prominently, and both men took full advantage. "Stop it!" she protested, but could do nothing to prevent their hands from wandering across her chest or down to squeeze her butt.

The situation in Dynamic Corp was spiraling rapidly. The board of directors continued to wriggle in their bonds, grunting through their gags. More masked men walked by, leading lines of bound women off to who-knows-where, though she was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion where they might be headed. And now Ms. Wiswell had lost any pretense of control over the situation. She screamed in frustration and both men laughed. "Come on, let's go, ma'am," one of them sneered, "Can't be late for your appointment."

The other man snickered. "Yeah, then the boss might really let you have it." They pushed her in front of them out of the board room and back down the hall. They got back into the elevator, now empty, with only the pile of clothes on the floor and the steam on the mirror to show that anyone had been there. They got out on the parking level to another chaotic scene.

Down here were the cubicles of the lowest-level workers, and though she didn't know their names, she recognized some of the faces behind even more duct tape gags and blindfolds. She even thought she could recognize some of the masked men as well. Was that Steve from Payroll sitting nude on the floor, a bound brunette straddling his lap as he fucked her, squeezing her ass tightly and sucking on one of her nipples? And surely that was Mark from HR next to him, a bound and struggling woman impaled on his cock, her face pressed into the floor as he jerked his hips against hers? How easily her male employees had sold their loyalty to this wild plan.

Ms. Wiswell raised her head, trying to lock her gaze on the wall ahead of her and away from the assault going on all around her. But she couldn't block out the sounds, and the continued moans filling her ears were only causing her own arousal to grow. She became intensely aware of how her legs brushed against each other as she walked, though the friction between them was too little to do any more than tease. Her prominent breasts made it clear how hard her nipples had gotten. Her breath deepened and her tits rose and fell with each gasping inhale.

At the end of the hall they entered the cubicle staff's cafeteria; the sight was shocking but not surprising. More bound women squirmed on the long tables, many secured to the railing in the center of each table so they wouldn't fall off. Masked men sat in the dining chairs, helpless prisoners pulled onto their laps. In here the pace was less frantic, and the men leisurely thrust into their captives with the air of people who had plenty of time.

At a corner table she could see a man still in a suit - unusual among the mostly naked intruders - who looked as though he was finishing off a steak dinner. As her escorts steered her closer to the table she could see that it was Drew Grant, CEO of Flexible Solutions. He took one last bite, dabbing his lips with a napkin, and sipped a glass of scotch.

"Ah, Ms. Wiswell, welcome," he said grandly, gesturing to the seat across from him at the table. The guards pushed her down into the seat with her bound arms over the back. They tied a rope around her chest, under her breasts, pinning her to the chair.

This close she could hear more wet sounds, but the source of the noise wasn't clear until Mr. Grant summoned the guards over to him. They lifted a bound redhead from the floor in front of him, and as they turned she could see that it was her chauffeur, Lizzie, tightly tied and gagged with a metal ring to hold her mouth open. Cum dripped down her chin as the guards carried her away, exchanging excited ideas about what they would do with her.

"Asshole," Ms. Wiswell snarled. "Just what do you think you're doing here? You'll never get away with this. The scale of what you've done today is impossible! You'll never cover all this up!"

Mr. Grant chuckled, sipping his scotch. "It's not really that hard, so to speak. The paperwork you've signed will help immensely, of course. Flexible Solutions now owns Dynamic Corp and all its assets, and as you've seen by now, you have quite a few assets on hand."

"What?! My employees?!" she sputtered.

"Yes, your employees. You've worked hard to gather the best and brightest here for us, and we truly do appreciate it. Your staff will fetch quite a great deal of money on the black market, even after their ... use today."

Ms. Wiswell struggled against her bonds, but the rope was tight against her ribs, and her own breasts prevented her from slipping out of it. "You can't just kidnap an entire company! There'll be a huge investigation, the police will stop you!"

"The police?" He laughed again, gesturing to the piles of discarded clothes around them, which contained their fair share of police uniforms, the shine of their badges glinting up from the rumpled fabric. "Oh yes, they've certainly tried their best, but they were no match for the private security firm I hired. And then of course there were your own male employees. It seems a great number of them were feeling ... unappreciated here at Dynamic Corp. They weren't included in the profiles and the press pieces, and found themselves passed over for promotion time and time again."

"I treat all my employees fairly!" Ms. Wiswell protested. "Promotions are solely based on merit and achievements!"

"That's as may be, but when we offered them a better-paid spot at the new Dynamic Corp, every one of them jumped at the opportunity. Some of them took the cash bonus for their help here, while others chose to receive payment in the form of a brand new slave instead. They'll certainly be some of the best workforce around, coming in each morning with a clear head and a spring in their step." He stood up and came around to her side, leaning against the table's edge next to where she sat. She could see the growing bulge in his pants as he sneered down at her.