Detective's Lingerie, Bound Breasts

Stilettos and Black Lace Panties

She opened the door and two well-dressed older men entered her hotel room. It was their first time meeting after arriving in Miami early that day. From the looks of things, the men were pleased with what they saw.

They'd been in contact for months. Jennifer felt her blood flowing as the wheels were in motion. She already provided these men with her measurements and they brought a special luggage for her.

"Strip," the man named Pierre said with a thick French accent.

Jennifer didn't hesitate. She removed her clothes in front of the men. In her mid-30's, it took a year of discipline to get her body in this form. A strict diet and rigorous exercise gave her a skinny figure with toned muscles.

Naked in the hotel room, Jennifer acted as a doll for the men, who opened the luggage and dressed her. They put together an erotic ensemble with a lace black bra and panties set. Stilettos on her feet. They put a few touches of makeup and fluffed her hair as a test run for the upcoming assignment.

"Now you're a fashionista," Pierre said, marveling at his own work.

Jennifer examined herself in the mirror. "It's amazing what the right wardrobe and makeup can do to a woman."

She looked like her younger sister now. It was remarkable. Jennifer could hardly recognize herself in this new form, which was exactly what she wanted.

"Look, Jenny, you don't have to do this. I recommend you stop. These men are going to kill you if they find out."

"So what?" she replied, fluffing her hair in the mirror to create an even more perfect image of herself.

Pierre shook his head. "I understand your pain and frustration. Ah, the things we do for love. For family."

"Your wife is going to be fine. If everything goes well, this will be finished in a few days."

"When this is done, I will be forever grateful."

The men left the hotel room, leaving behind the luggage full of designer lingerie, heels, perfume, and makeup.

Stilettos were painful on her feet and toes, but she kept wearing them. She needed to walk like a woman who wore them everyday. Her nipples were visible through the sheer bra and she kept that on too.

Inside her travel bag was a handwritten letter that her sister wrote. It was one of many. She must have read this particular page over 50 times and she taped it on the mirror alongside her reflection.

~~~

The men I work for gave me drugs and took turns fucking me again. I deeply regret it and I love my husband more than anything. This was all a stupid game for perverted men who lured me into this for promises of a great career.

One of the women told me that a model has gone missing in Europe. That model was also drugged and ganged by the same men that I work for. Could it be a horrible coincidence? Or have I made a deal with the devil?

Sometimes I think of telling my sister. We were never really close, but now, I wish we were. If I could go back, my relationship with her would be different. I'd do it all over again.

So if you're reading this -- Jennifer -- I'm sorry and I love you. If anything happens to me, this is the reason. It was my fault.

Love,

Crystal

~~~

No names were given. Nothing that could be used to prove guilt. Pierre also refused to give names of who was potentially involved in Crystal's murder.

With the letter taped on the full-length mirror, Jennifer took a few steps back and examined her reflection again. She looked like a new person.

Jennifer knew she was beautiful, but her younger sister was even more beautiful. Now she was entering her sister's world. It broke her heart thinking of what happened. She read the police reports of the drug use and rape her sister endured.

Now, standing in front of the mirror, she unclipped the bra and let it fall. The same with her panties. She was naked in the stilettos and she needed to be as comfortable as possible in a state like this.

She was assured that this was the easiest way to gain access to all of the suspects, and since she was on a one-week paid leave from her job, time was of the essence.

Pinching her brown nipples, she let them turn hard. She gave her clitoris a quick rub so it would also turn erect. Striking a few poses in front of the mirror, she maintained a serious face. She'd been practicing these poses for weeks. With the spray-on tan, the makeup and hair, no one would guess that she's a police detective.

To be clear, these were her plans alone. Her sister, nor her sister's husband, instructed her to do this. Her employment with the police department would have been terminated on the spot if anyone knew about this scheme. And if they knew her true intentions, she'd be prosecuted.

***

Swerno became one of the top fashion designers in Europe, which in turn, made him a worldwide sensation. He'd recently set up a second office in America to expand his fashion empire.

On a large whiteboard were 50 headshots of models accompanied by their full body photographs. He was finalizing and line-up for an upcoming runway show and everything needed to meet standards.

"We've got an excellent crop this year, gentleman," Swerno said to congratulate his team. "Well done."

If everything went smoothly, his brand would soon be worth over $500 million. The men in the room applauded as the final line-up was close to being made.

Everyone prepared to go home after the long day's work. The room was filled with fabrics, materials, and racks upon racks of undergarments and lingerie. These were the new collections he'd been working on and was excited to debut.

"Can I have a word with you?" Pierre asked the boss.

"Sure, what's going on?"

They stood by the window overlooking Miami as the rest of the team went home.

"We may have a new event coordinator. I'd like you to meet her."

Swerno brushed it off. "That's the last thing I'm worried about. We already have good people handling these things."

"You don't understand. This one is a real beauty with a great reputation. She works hard, then afterwards, she does it all."

"I'm listening."

"She's your type," Pierre said. "Great legs, perky tits, strong personality, and she likes to fuck. A real nymphomaniac, bitch. Based on my conversations with her, she'll do anything to be around the money."

It was Swerno's type indeed. Where many powerful men like money, drugs, or fast women, Swerno's kind of woman was talented in business with the figure of a model. Brains with beauty and sex. It was a potent combination that was difficult to find. Whenever the opportunity arose, he took it.

But having sex was never enough. Swerno needed to destroy. He needed to defile sexually then discard. To him, that was the ultimate rush that life had to offer. He'd killed before and he still contemplated whether that was better than sex itself. Perhaps he'd never know until he does it a few more times.

"Is she any good?" Swerno inquired, wondering if it was worth the effort to bring in new people during such a busy period.

"I always bring you the best."

Swerno nodded. "What is her work ethic?"

"Lots of energy. Business oriented. Never shuts up."

"Tell me more about her tits."

"C cups. Perky. Pointed. Long brown nipples. Exactly what you like."

Swerno kept thinking. "We can test our new lingerie. When can I meet this woman?"

"How about the yacht party tomorrow night?" Pierre suggested. "Let her meet the rest of the team and we'll see if she's a good fit. We can also fit something else inside of her holes."

Swerno patted his friend on the shoulder. "I like that. Let's hope she doesn't disappoint. Now get some rest, Pierre. Tomorrow is another day."

After the boss left, Pierre fixed himself a drink and continued looking at the view of downtown Miami. Betraying the boss was never something he considered. They'd grown up in Europe together. They loved each other like brothers. Aside from being best friends, they've also made each other millionaires from their talents in fashion.

They'd even killed together. A secret they'd take to their graves.

But when Swerno brought Pierre's wife into the picture, he had to draw a line in the sand. Pierre loved his wife more than words could describe; she was the mother of his children. She helped him survive an alcohol addiction years ago when no one else could.

Now she was being turned into yet another junkie, courtesy of Swerno's charm and promises of fame and power. Pierre accepted it at first, given the fact that their marriage was sexually an open arrangement. Then it became rough. Swerno's pleasure was seeing beautiful women being gangbanged. And that it was now happening to Pierre's lovely wife was too much to bear.

Truthfully, if it happened to any other woman, Pierre would have ignored it, or even participated. The same as always. Not for his wife though. Pierre noticed subtle changes in her demeanor. A lack of confidence. Gradual withdrawal. On some days it felt like his wife was no longer the same person.

His precious marriage was slipping away. Then fate struck.

A few of the models informed Pierre that a woman was poking into their affairs. After some research with private investigators, Pierre discovered that the woman was a police detective from another city.

In all honesty, Pierre was one of the men responsible for killing the detective's sister. Did he feel bad for it? Someday he might.

All he could do was give penance. For the love of his wife, Pierre was willing to sacrifice his best friend along with an amazing career. When this was over, he planned on taking his wife back to Europe for a new start. There were always new opportunities and his reputation was clean.

Woman in Open Breast Lingerie

The dock was near Jennifer's hotel and she arrived looking like she belonged in the crowd that night. Stilettos on her feet. Pencil skirt. Silk blouse. Her makeup and hair were put together by a stylist Pierre sent to her room earlier.

It was the first time in her life that she connected with her sister. Now they could have passed as twins. This was also the same group of people that her sister associated with for years. Rich, posh, snobs.

Everyone boarded the yacht and Jennifer's name was on the guest list. These were the fashion elite. Accompanying them were glamour and runway models wearing skimpy designer outfits.

From the information Jennifer gathered, this is what she knew: As designers create pieces for runway shows, there is fierce competition amongst models to wear them. Whoever wears the most hyped piece gets the most media attention.

And where there is competition, there is exploitation. Designers are offered sexual favors in exchange for wearing the best pieces. Either that or designers themselves are blunt about what they expect. This was a common theme Jennifer heard from the women she interviewed. It was also alluded to several times in her sister's letters.

In this investigation, Jennifer also uncovered something far more sinister:

These women are given amazing promises of lavish careers and money. False opportunities were dangled over their heads and sometimes there'd be coercion. Do this-or-that or else you'll be sent home with nothing. Sex was often rough or degrading.

After being swapped around for sexual favors -- or sometimes orgies or gangbangs like her sister endured -- they'd be sent home anyway. Worse, a few of the models eventually went missing in Europe, with some being found dead with traces of heavy drug use -- just like her sister.

No one could trace these crimes to anyone, but Jennifer trusted her instincts and the letters her sister wrote. She didn't have direct names, but she had body descriptions and sex acts that the men liked. That would be her cue.

Putting on her best smile, Jennifer acted gleeful when Pierre took her aside to greet the important associates aboard the yacht. The party was underway and the yacht departed towards the ocean.

"This is the woman I've been telling you about," Pierre said to the colleagues. "She's a special one."

Jennifer flashed a glowing smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm such a big fan of your brand."

The sleek wardrobe she wore was something designed by these men, which Pierre gave her, of course. The eyes of the men went up and down her body, admiring her beauty and making sure her fashion was on point.

Small talk was made and they asked about her experience with event planning. She gave a concocted story and delivered it with the utmost believability. Bullshitting people was all about confidence, and with an outfit like hers, she had confidence in spades.

That confidence took a turn when she was greeted by Swerno, who stepped into the setting with a commanding aura. Their eyes locked as they shook hands. This man was the prime suspect and was even questioned by the police over Crystal's death; they found nothing of value.

Was this the last face her sister saw? She was almost sure of it, but not sure enough. For a split second, she wondered if Swerno would make the connection. Jennifer and her sister had similar facial features and the same shade of eye color. Nothing seemed to register yet, thankfully, and her cover was secure.

"Allow me to steal you away for a moment," Swerno said with a dashing charm. "If you want to be an event planner for me, there are some things we must go over. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," she replied, acting dazzled by the offer. "I'd be delighted."

She held the man's arm when offered, and two other men were summoned to follow them below deck. Jennifer wondered if this was the part where she'd be ganged by the same cocks that ruined her sister. But by the tone in Swerno's voice, he seemed too jovial to be thinking about rough sex... at least for now.

In the deck below there was a private room with accessories, small clothing, and lingerie hanging from racks.

"Apparently you wish to work for me," Swerno said, eyeing her chest. "I've heard a lot of good things about you. What have you heard about me?"

"That hard work is rewarded."

"Correct."

"I love your brand," she said, flaunting her body. "It would be a real honor to be associated with a man like you."

Again, Swerno's eyes went up and down. "My brand certainly looks good on your figure."

"Thank you. I also know that you have plenty of event-planners that you employ. So I understand if you'd want to turn me down. But know this, I can keep women in line. I also know what men in the fashion circle want. I'm the best of both worlds in that regard."

"An ambitious woman. I like that."

She nodded. "Anything for the right job."

The men in the room stared at her as Swerno continued appraising her body. It was inevitable that this would proceed. Her appearance was built to what Swerno liked and she could see the man forming a decision.

"Alright, let's see what you can do," he said, as if laying down a challenge. "My partner says you have the skills for the job. That's good enough for me. Regardless, we have to make sure you're a perfect fit for our organization. Do you like lingerie?"

Jennifer raised a seductive eyebrow. "You already know the answer to that."

"Perfect, because I have something that would complement your figure. Wear it, then we'll see what my associates think of you. After all, my team is like family and a tight bond is extremely important. Do you agree?"

"Yes, I agree, and I'm comfortable wearing anything."

"Have you ever done nude work?" he asked.

"I was a life model in college. At this point, nothing scares me."

Swerno smiled. "You'll get an even bigger rush tonight. Take off your clothes. Leave those stilettos on. They look good on your feet."

In the pivotal moment, Jennifer didn't hesitate. This was the moment she'd prepared for. She took off her top and skirt. Her lace bra then panties.

All those months of strict dieting and exercise turned her body into a different kind of weapon. Standing naked in front of men who likely killed her sister was a tough feeling, but mentally she was strong. With her hands down, she struck a model pose wearing nothing but stilettos.

"An exquisite work of art," he noted. "You've been sculpted by the Gods, now you're here before me."

She waved a finger and teased, "Now you're blessed."

"Not yet."

Reaching into a rack, Swerno lifted a piece of lingerie and unhooked it from the hanger. Then he sifted through another rack for something else.

In one hand, he held a red garter belt which was hooked to small red panties. The smallness of it would leave a woman's pubic mound showing and most of the buttcheeks exposed.

On the other hand was an open-breasted piece of lingerie. It was also red with the most intricate designs on it. There were two circles on the chest area so a woman's breasts could hang through it.

"That's provocative," she said.

"Will you wear it?"

"Only because you designed it. And it looks sexy as hell."

Swerno gave the signal, and together, the men in the room worked their magic on Jennifer's skinny body. She lifted each foot so they could put the tiny panties on her, which as expected, barely fit. The garter belt came next, which hugged her thighs.

Most striking of all was lifting her arms so they could slip the lingerie on her. It felt smooth against her skin. But as she wore it, it felt like something was missing. Nothing was covering her breasts. It was the most unusual sensation to feel fabric draped across her body, but the erogenous zone of her tits were exposed.

The men adjusted the open cups of the lingerie, pushing and pulling the fabric so that her C-cup breasts could hang through. When finished, the men seemed proud of her new appearance.

When the outfit was in place, Swerno looked like a chef who finished creating the most delicious meal, and was now savoring the aromas.

"The nipples became fashionable in France during the 1800's," Swerno explained, gazing at her breasts. "It was then that low-cut dresses were made that revealed the nipples. It's part artistic, part exhibitionist. The most delicate blend of the human experience."

"I've never seen this piece in your catalog. I'm assuming it's an intimate design for your private collection."

"Indeed it is," he replied. "My reputation would be soiled if I sold open cup lingerie, especially with the fit that you're wearing. It's a very special piece."

"Why is that?"

Swerno reached into a drawer and pulled out two laces, which were each several feet long.

"Ever try breast bondage?" he asked, dangling the lace.

"No, I haven't."

"Would you be interested?"

Jennifer held firm. "If it helps me get the job, I'm interested in trying it. I want to work for you. I want to be where the action is. Sexually I'm open minded as well."

He smiled, "With nipples like yours, you're going to love this."

As each lace was inserted into the small openings of the chest area, Jennifer knew right then and there, Swerno was a killer. When her sister's body was found, there were round marks across each breast. It never occurred to Jennifer that it was the result of bondage.

The laces went around the special insides of the open cup lingerie. The men in the room helped pull at the lace and tie it.

As a result, her tits were protruding forward from the squeezed shape. Her brown nipples turned hard and felt numb from the immense pressure. Wanting to be tough about it, she refused to wince in pain or show emotion.

"How does that feel?" he asked, rubbing the tips of each nipple.

"It stings a bit, but I'm okay."

"You're new to it. Give it some time. This is training. Your breasts and nipples will feel relief once they're untied."

"When will that happen?"