Tower of Babylon Ch. 01: Origins

She scanned the photos, hungrily, "My, my. I can have some fun with her. I think I remember her from some dinner parties. She never gave me proper respect. Stuck up bitches are my favorites to break."

"Sorry, Ange," Muller shook his head. "The boss wants her kind of clean, for the business. He wants to see how she does as a fresh face on the porn circuit. After she's worn out, you can do whatever."

"Well, let's get introduced, at least," Angelina pouted, sticking the cigarette holder into the hanging woman's asshole. When they left, the woman swung alone in the empty room, smoke rising from the still lit cigarette from between her legs.

The previous discussion had taken place in a remodeled back room of a dingy office building filled with office workers in haphazard cubicles and overflowing desks with dubious products that could fill an adult megastore. Posters on the wall made it clear that the establishment specialized in the production and distribution of extreme smut and their accessories although the rest of the place seemed not much different from any other low rent office with cheap pressed board furniture, beat up task chairs, yellow stained ceilings, and flickering overhead fixtures. They met a greasy looking man with slicked hair and terrible acne scars who they greeted with merely a half-nod as he tried to ingratiate himself.

"Welcome. Our new hire has just finished getting her paperwork signed," he bowed, waving to the woman who had stood up as soon as Angelina and Muller had walked into the room. The pale faced woman was dressed elegantly and took the greetings with a grace that was only broken by the nervous shake on her upper lip and the darting way she looked around at the people in the room. Four men stood at the back, arms crossed. During the greetings, they were the only ones not introduced. They said nothing and remained motionless during the ensuing exchange.

Angelina spoke first, "I'm sure you've been filled in on your new position here at Tiger Blossom Entertainment, so you won't mind if I get right to the point. How many men have you fucked?"

Blushing, the startled woman stuttered, "Only my husband." She had been sipping at the drink that had been offered. Something in it must have been effective as she gulped the rest down, not looking at anyone in particular.

The greasy man, Director and Producer Jared Kim, patted his hands together, "Indeed? A new world awaits you. Fun fun fun!" He already had a portable camera ready.

Angelina continued, "It shouldn't surprise you that you will need a screen test, Mrs. Takeuchi. We need to see what we have to work with here. You do understand your position, or at least the one your irresponsible husband has put you in?"

"Yes. Then I assume we begin my screen test now?"

"Correct. Please, we need to see everything," Angelina waved. Nervously, the woman looked around, slowly unbuttoning her blouse at Angelina's nod. "We don't have all day. We're going to be seeing it all eventually." The director had already begun filming with his camera.

Instead of looking at the people in the room, Mrs. Takeuchi looked into the camera lens as she undressed. The director grinned, "A natural. She already knows how to get a good angle."

Blushing, the woman was soon standing naked in the middle of the meeting room, holding her hands in front of her modesty.

Angelina ordered, "Sit on the coffee table. Yes, like that. Spread your legs." The director zoomed in.

Muller grunted, "Not bad. She still has a nice figure."

"Arch your back. Good. Play with your tits," Angelina continued. The director moved to get a better shot. "Very good. Let's see how well you can use those lips."

Muller had already unzipped his pants, letting his half-flaccid member flop out. The woman widened her moist eyes. Her body was flushed pink.

Muller reached out and pulled her hand until she was on her knees, face inches from his cock. He said, "Relax. It's the easiest thing in the world. Just let yourself go." She closed her eyes, something within her making a decision. She leaned forward, grasped his hardening penis, and began licking the tip. He shook his head, grinned, then pushed her head until a good portion of his member was down her gullet. She gagged, spit drooling down his shaft, but she got the message and began bobbing her head in earnest. He pulled the pin keeping her hair up and let the locks flow across her shoulders. At the same time the director prodded her flank so that she spread her legs for a good view.

"Very nice. She learns quickly. Maybe she's seen a porn movie or two," the pimpled man quipped.

Angelina announced, "Well, no use holding back boys. Let's work this new set of holes. I want a thorough test."

Mrs. Takeuchi gasped, pulling her head up, but Muller forced her head back down as the first of the four men pulled his trousers down and prepared his own member for entry. Angelina spat into her hand then rubbed it on the other woman's naked crotch.

"Put on a good show, and we'll get you a bonus," Angelina winked. Mrs. Takeuchi closed her eyes as the first man pressed the tip of his penis past the gate of no return.

Segment 4: Lessons

Paul took his time getting food from the market. His head was spinning from the images of the girl in his head and vague ideas about what to do about the situation. Growing up, he'd been aware of the power and notoriety of his father, but his departed mother had insulated him from the details of the family business. Even when he had applied for the private college, he'd known that it was due more to his father's influence than his own academic skills which were modest at best. Paul cursed himself for not having the strength of will to go far away from home and strike out on his own. Still, he suspected that the entire country was no escape from the machinations of his father or his ilk. Perhaps that was true everywhere in this corrupt world.

"I'm such a coward," he muttered to no one in particular. He'd been staring at the same package of frozen breakfast entrees for several minutes.

"Having trouble deciding? We have some fresh pre-packaged items from the deli," asked a bright voice. Startled, Paul realized it was the cashier girl, Gwen, a reddish-blond with green eyes, freckles and an elfin face. She noted the number of items in his hand basket. "Oh, buying enough for two? You have a friend over?"

"Maybe I do," he eluded. Gwen had a tendency to be nosy. He realized he had to get away quickly before he gave too much away. "My pal Sung stayed over again to finish a tournament match on my Playbox last night."

"Oh, I love video games. We should set up a match," she batted her eyes. "You've been promising for ages."

Gwen wasn't really his type, although she was cute so it wasn't like he hadn't thought about it, but the timing now was even worse. He did his best to shake her off, paid for the items, and hurried out of the store.

As he got closer to home he saw the girl on his balcony. Her ample chest was in full view of anyone on the street. Cursing, he rushed up the stairs, buzzing himself through the main security door. He was panting once he reached his door, unlocked it, dropped the bags of food on the floor, and ran to the balcony where she was lounging in full view, stark naked.

"Damn it. I told you to not go outside!" He exclaimed, pulling her into the living room.

"I'm still inside your apartment technically," she pouted. "Besides, I told you that it doesn't matter, nothing will happen."

"Have you heard of social media? They can't control that, come on," he retorted.

"You'd be surprised how many photos just get played off and forgotten. I doubt if another naked girl on the internet would really get much attention. It's easy to call it a fake when they need to," she replied.

He shook his head in disbelief. He said, "They've got you brainwashed real good."

"No," she looked at him sadly. "It's you who has been hiding from the truth for too long."

"Forget it," he went back to the kitchen to put away the frozen entrees, and set the microwave up to cook a couple breakfast burritos.

She said, "It will be healthier if I cook. Give me some cash for tomorrow and I can go buy some necessities."

"Are you going to go like that?" He asked. She nodded as if this was not totally obvious. "I know it's always warm these days, but you're going to get sick."

When she didn't respond, he let his shoulders droop and said, "Just give me a list and I'll get it on the way home later." She simply nodded again.

As the carousel in the microwave turned, he looked at the clock and cursed, he didn't want to miss another class or the whole day would be shot. He packed his books into his shoulder bag and hurried to put on his shoes. He ordered, "You can have my burrito. Just stay inside until I come back. If anyone knocks, just pretend that you're not here."

His apartment was only a fifteen minute walk to campus but he cursed himself for not getting his bike fixed.

The college was unaccredited as it was owned and operated by a cultish religious organization that had recently gained prominence. He didn't care for the details so Paul wasn't that familiar with them and their influence wasn't overt as far as he could tell, so far. He just wanted the piece of paper at the end to prove he had done something on his own, even if it was subsidized. The rest of the student body were other rich brats from elite families and they pretty much ran roughshod over the hapless instructors whose power over them was only a thinly veiled social fiction.

The university campus itself was very nice with modern buildings and well maintained grounds. He headed toward the auditorium that held the class as the carillon bell tolled the hour. He was late.

The professor gave him a cursory scowl but continued his lecture without stopping as Paul plopped himself down, sweating, in his usual spot. Sung would harass him later for missing the class they shared in the morning, but he didn't care. Helena Flagstone, the daughter of a wealthy donor to the college, waved at him. She was clearly aiming to be his girlfriend, although it was somewhat one sided. It was impossible to hide his background, so it was no surprise but it still irked him that she was pursuing him for those reasons. It didn't help that she was actually stunningly beautiful in her own right. He tried to focus on the lecture but it was difficult as images of another young woman kept popping into his head.

After class, Helena cocked her head and asked, "You seem a bit spaced out today."

"Oh, just got a lot on my mind, I guess. Maybe it's because I'm getting hungry now that it's lunch time."

"Great. I was heading to the cafeteria, want to join me?" she asked casually, grabbing his arm. Despite himself, his heart leapt a bit. The smell of her hair enveloped him.

"Sure," he agreed immediately. He was startled when Sung almost crashed into him as the pair exited the building.

"Hey, saw you sneaking in. I was in my usual spot in the back corner. Got high score on Pixel Crack on my phone. What took you so long, were you jerking off?" asked Sung before noticing Helena. He made googly eyes and pointed at her whispering, "She's coming with us? Cool!"

Helena didn't seem to mind, but Paul was annoyed that Sung didn't take the hint and tagged along with them to the food court. He kept babbling so Paul barely had a chance to talk with Helena before she announced that she had to rush to her next class. She gave Paul a lingering gaze before walking away.

Sung was ecstatic, "Oh man! Jackpot! She is in to you, bro. And damn fine too."

Paul gave him a mock punch, "Thanks for barging in, old pal."

"Hey, I'm here to help," Sung said obliviously as he munched on his fries.

Two more of their friends saw them at the lunch table and came over to converse. Paul sighed and thought about how he'd deal with Helena as Sung gossiped. He couldn't help but compare Cat to Helena's voluminous figure and Helena stacked up quite well. Paul tried to get the thoughts out of his head.

When he finally got back to his apartment after class he had totally forgotten that Sung, as usual, was going to meet him on the way, expecting to hang out. He'd racked his brain trying to figure out how to shake him off.

"Don't you have any actual studying to do?" Paul asked, almost rhetorically as he fished for his keys.

"Naw. Actually, I do, but who cares. I'll do it later. I want a re-match on your console," Sung hopped up and down impatiently.

Paul exclaimed, "Oh shit. I forgot something on campus. We'll have to do it tomorrow, sorry." He turned around and headed back to the stairs.

Sung whined, "What? Get it tomorrow. At least let me in so I can play. I'll be good. I'll order pizza!"

Paul adamantly shook his head and barreled down the stairs with Sung trailing after him.

Much later, he was exhausted when he got back. Sometimes he really hated Sung. They had ended up at an arcade after Paul had pretended to find his wallet at the cafeteria. Sung still had wanted to come over even after the long gaming session so Paul had suggested going to dinner but he'd made some excuse about having to do an assignment at the library and ditched Sung at the entrance. Hopefully, Sung would search the library for him and by the time he gave up and came looking for him back at the apartment Paul would shut off the lights and pretend to be asleep.

Easing the door closed, Paul smelled something new for his place: freshly cooked food. He always had take-out or instant entrees so this was totally unexpected. Of course, he instantly realized why. It was still startling to see the raven haired girl, this time wearing a skimpy apron, but otherwise still nude. He tried to keep his eyes from drifting toward her quite shapely derriere.

"Welcome back, master. I've prepared dinner," she said cheerfully as she stirred a pan and checked various items spread out on the counter. "I hope you like Italian pasta."

"Wait, when did you get all that? I told you not to go outside!"

"I didn't, but you also didn't tell me I couldn't have items delivered. I found a charge card in one of your drawers, so I hope you do not mind."

He let his shoulders drop, "Did the delivery boy see you?"

"It was a middle-aged Indian man, but yes, he did see me. How else would I have collected the groceries when he knocked?"

"Oh man," he sighed. "I hope I don't have to move from this neighborhood. Don't you have any sense of shame?"

"Of course, but it doesn't matter anymore. The person who felt shame has died. I am nothing but a servant."

"You're still a human being," he nearly shouted.

"True, but also your servant," she said firmly as she placed the steaming pasta onto a plate. "Here, please seat yourself for dinner."

"I thought you didn't wear clothes," he pointed to the apron.

"Some exceptions had to be made for practicality and personal safety as well as hygiene. However, I do believe this outfit is considered a sexual fetish by some, so it is quite suitable. As long as my genitalia are available, I assumed it counted as still being naked."

"Wow. That's kind of an analytical way of talking."

"I'm sorry master," she perched her back towards him. "As long as you can see my snatch..."

Blushing, he sat down, waving his hand, "OK. Got it. This is so bizarre. Are you having any?"

"After master eats, of course," she said, pouring him some water.

The food was quite tasty, if simple, he thought. Part of his mind contemplated that this lifestyle wouldn't be half-bad, if it weren't for the fact that it was part of some plot by his notorious parents.

Once the food settled, he set down some rules, "You can stay for a few days until we figure something out." He had to be firm, ordering her to keep out of the bathroom while he showered. He argued with himself about not taking advantage of her, briefly imagining an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. He wasn't sure who won as he toweled off but he'd avoided jerking one out at least, for now.

As he prepared to sleep, he ordered her to take the bed, but this time she was insistent, so he placed some blankets on the floor. She curled up, looked up at him and meowed.

He laughed. Damn it, he thought, she was incredibly cute. His groin stirred, making him duck under his blankets suddenly.

"How can you take all this so lightly?" he asked.

"I'm not. I'm taking it quite seriously. If you need to know, I have always been a perfectionist: I believe in doing my best, no matter what the role, even if it to be a slave," she said.

"So it is a role..." he muttered, partially to himself.

After several nights of staying up late due to Sung, he was appreciating the opportunity for an early bedtime for once.

Sometime later he was startled awake by pressure on his back. Cat had crept under the blankets with him. He was about to admonish her when he saw the tears forming in her eyes. She whispered, "I'm a little lonely." He nodded and let her stay, cuddled up next to him.

Needless to say, he barely slept that night.

Segment 5: The Patriarch

The restaurant was only partially filled but there were a few nervous glances made at one of the tables in the back. A large but not portly man wearing an expensive suit casually dined across from the bored looking Angelina Parker who picked at her own dinner without much enthusiasm. The security detail sat at the next table, drinking water and nothing else.

The maître-d' walked up swiftly to inquire about their needs. He bowed deeply as the big man waved him away, but not before ordering, "Bring me the special I requested next." Pale, the man bowed again and walked away swiftly.

Brad B. Parker was a large man with a thick torso but it was mostly bones and muscle. His appetites were as large as his wide forehead and as insatiable as his strong hands which he used to grab at the food--and anything else he wanted when the occasion came--with a greedy agility as surprisingly fast and forceful as a snapping turtle.

Angelina barely held in her disgust at his eating habits, but she forced a grin from her rouged lips that looked more predatory than she had intended, "I've got my own surprise for you honey. It's in the car, but I can have it brought in."

"Do it, then. We don't have all day. I've got a meeting set up later," he growled. "Business."

She sighed, not bothering to ask about the business. It wouldn't be pretty, whatever it was. "You never play at home anymore, honey. I've got a lot of pretty baubles for you play with at the house. Very pretty and tasty treats."

His black eyes looked up at her finally, "Sure, baby, but not tonight. I don't have the time. What's going on with my son?"

"It's coming along," she said.

"Speed it up. I'm losing my patience. Do what you need to do to get him out of the rut he is in, playing Mr. Nice Guy. I'll beat some sense into him."

"All right. I'll call the right people and have it arranged," she primped, knowing the man didn't have it in him to make good on any such threats himself. The fact is: the big man had only one spot where he wouldn't, or couldn't, use the hammer to nail down. She'd have to take care of everything regarding young Paul.

She snapped a finger and one of the security men made a call on his radio.

A few heads briefly turned as Mrs. Takeuchi strolled into the restaurant. She was blushing red all over her naked body as she walked to the back of the restaurant in full view of everyone. She wore nothing except for a pair of high-heels and a ball gag in her mouth. She stood before the table, legs spread and her arms behind her back. Her nipples stood firm, at attention.

Angelina seemed satisfied, "It's not every day one finds a decent masochist. Kneel and take off the gag."