USB - Unwanted Sexual Behavior Ch. 03

Bradley moved in behind her and lifted her skirt exposing the magnificent creamy globes clad in black satin and lace. He unzipped his fly and extracted his penis, a string of silver pre-ejaculate leaked from the eye. He eased aside the gusset of her panties and Taylor widened her stance and gripped the edge of the desk for support in anticipation.

"Go on; take what you think is yours then," she whispered.

"Oh my god," Taylor hissed when Bradley slid his cock inside her.

He filled her with his manhood and Taylor felt her secretions begin to flow. Bradley leaned over her, keeping her impaled on his cock as he reached around and unbuttoned her blouse. He extricated her breasts from the lacy brasserie and cupped them softly. Taylor squeaked like a little mouse when he used his thumbs on her hard nipples, circling the firm pink berries. Then he began to slowly fuck her and Taylor surrendered.

She pressed back against him and gyrated her hips like a slattern, wanting his cock deep inside her; wanting the base of his shaft pressing on her engorged clitoris.

Bradley tweaked her nipples and ground against her until she began to shake and stammer; her passionate cries incomprehensible as her orgasm began to slowly percolate. It began deep in her vagina where Bradley's glans pressed on her g-spot and melded with the intense tingling that was radiating from her clitoris.

Bradley moved his hands to Taylor's hips and he stood upright and began to plough his hard quivering phallus in and out of her tight, slick sheath. His pubis slammed into her buttocks causing them to quiver, filling the silent room with the 'thwok, thwok, thwok,' sound of their fucking. The fucking sounds harmonised with their little squeals and groans as their orgasms approached.

Bradly pulled Taylor's ass hard against his groin, driving his cock into her as far as it would go causing Taylor to gasp as she felt his phallus fill her and push deeper insider than she had ever felt before. His scalding semen erupted from his throbbing cock and her climax erupted and she began to shake, screaming obscenities into the night.

Bradley wasn't finished. As soon as he began to ejaculate he fucked her even harder, slamming his cock in and out of her tight channel. His semen blended with her vaginal secretion and began to ooze from her quim and run down her legs. Taylor felt like a whore and she wasn't sure if she liked it. As much as the pleasure she was feeling was indescribably wonderful, she felt like she had betrayed herself.

She lay bent over the desk panting heavily as Bradley slowly removed his penis from her bruised and swollen vagina. Another flood of milky viscous fluid trickled from her sex and ran down the inside of her thighs.

Bradley pushed himself off her and still breathing heavily he put himself away and zipped up.

"There's a good girl," he patted her bare ass and turned away from her.

Taylor was still bent over the desk trying to regain her composure when she heard his footsteps disappear down the corridor towards the lobby. She heard the ting of the elevator arriving as she gingerly pushed herself upright. She held her skirt out of the way and took a handful of tissues off the desk and wiped her sex and dabbed at the sticky dross on her upper thighs. The crotch of her panties was soaked and the tops of her stocking were dark and damp. She used some more tissues on those.

When she had her breathing under control she put her tender breasts back into the cups of her bra and buttoned her blouse. She picked up her purse and the used tissues. She took a risk and walked to the ladies room holding her skirt up out of the way of her thighs and used a warm soapy washcloth to better clean herself. She dried herself with a soft hand towel and dropped the sticky tissues she had used in her office into a toilet bowl and flushed them away. She dropped the washcloth and hand towel into the laundry bin and smoothed out her skirt, fixed her lipstick and brushed her hair.

Taylor studied her reflection in the mirror for a long beat and then she began to weep. She let it all come out and then she dried her eyes and fixed her makeup again.

As she walked back to her office, the patter of her high heels echoing in the quiet corridor seemed to accentuate her loneliness.

*****

Veronique answered the door to her apartment dressed in a cream silk nightgown. She was angry that Taylor had come to her in the early hours of the morning and would have turned her away if she hadn't sounded so distressed over the intercom.

"What? You couldn't call?" Veronique said sharply as Taylor burst into her apartment.

Veronique closed the door and locked it and turned to see Taylor standing in the middle of the floor shaking and crying.

"What's the matter?" Veronique went to her and enfolded her in her arms.

Taylor spewed out her story between crying jags, telling Veronique what had happened in her office.

"And I didn't know where else to turn so I came here," she finished her tale.

Veronique did not react how Taylor expected her to. She pushed Taylor away.

"Silly girl!" she slapped Taylor across the face.

Then she slapped her again.

Taylor just stood there stunned, her cheeks burning more with indignity than pain.

"I told you what happened to me in the forest when the trafficker dragged me into the clearing and then used me again up against the van. I told you how I set my resolve to use the tools I had to make a better life for myself."

"I told you how I was determined that it would never happen to me when I found Olga hanging from the ceiling with her panties full of shit," Veronique hissed.

"I warned you that Bradley would be unable to keep himself from taking advantage of you if you let him," Veronique went over to the bar and poured two tumblers of vodka.

"I didn't let him!" Taylor squealed indignantly.

"Didn't you?" Veronique handed Taylor the tumbler and she gulped at the contents.

"Easy. You have to work tomorrow," Veronique took the tumbler away from Taylor's mouth.

Taylor blushed.

"Well not at first but then I guess I couldn't help myself," Taylor admitted.

"Look. Everything you have up there is for sale to the right bidder. That's how you make your money," Veronique tapped Taylor on the side of the head.

"But this... this too is a commodity and you need to make sure you use it for own advantage," Veronique waved her hand at Taylor's body.

"You don't want to be a slut. That won't help you. But some strategic fucking can be used to your advantage. Don't worry I'll teach you. There are times to tease and times to please; these things are learned. The years I spent working in the brothels in Munich and Paris taught me many things. Men are easily manipulated if you know what you're doing," Veronique finished her drink and put the glass on the kitchen counter.

"Come. You can sleep here with me tonight, I have a negligee that will fit you and I'll give you some clean underwear tomorrow," Veronique began to dim the lights.

"I want to shower before I come to bed," Taylor said sulkily.

'No. I want to taste Bradley on your cunt. It will excite me," Veronique took Taylor's hand and led her to the bedroom.

*****

And Veronique did show Taylor how to use her sex appeal. She arranged a series of meetings and interviews with vendors and potential clients. Those that were already signed up to PostPay only required reassurance and wanted to meet the face of the company. A little flirting sufficed.

The big clients who were yet to commit required more attention. A dinner date, an intimate lunch, the more lucrative customers might get invited back to Taylor or Veronique's apartment for special treatment, but not before the deal was cinched.

After a month Taylor was comfortable with her role as both code writer and entrepreneur, PostPay's profits were exceeding all expectations. In fact Taylor was surprised at the influx of capital in her venture but too happy and content to question why her company's income far exceeded expectations.

She had tamed Bradley Freeman and set boundaries on their relationship. She would see him once a week for an intimate tête-à-tête. She enjoyed the coupling as much as he did and they established that the intimacy was only for mutual gratification, there were no implied or explicit pecuniary or propitious business implications.

She and Veronique worked closely together promoting PostPay and settled into a twice a week symbiotic sexual relationship.

Taylor also got to experience her first menstrual cycle and experience the joys of PMT and using tampons. She once again reflected on the trials and tribulations of being a woman. This was part becoming a woman that she would not miss when she returned to being her male self.

Two months after PostPay went live Taylor's life was turned upside down.

She was counting down the days until she would plug the USB into her old Sony Vaio and transform back into her male counterpart: the id, the life-force that was Taylor until he became a woman. Those memories and life experiences remained. It was impossible to wipe out twenty-five years living life as a man and replace them with a few months of living life as a woman, no matter how successful and exciting they have been. Taylor's core being was still that of the 'gamer in a suit', the longhaired Peter Panish skater boy with dreams of making it big with a 'shop now and pay later' app that benefited both the customer and the vendor.

Taylor took a break from the office and was sitting on the same bench in Grant Park near Buckingham Fountain where she found the USB. It seemed like a lifetime ago. A tall handsome man in a dark suit took a seat beside her, disturbing her thoughts. She was a little miffed; there were plenty of vacant benches in the park and she felt this man was invading her space.

She has become used to men hitting on her and she has also become a kind of minor celebrity amongst the technology geeks who think they have the next revolutionary app, game or online product. She's been hounded online and occasionally approached in person but this guy didn't look like a geek, he looked like a banker in his dark Brooks Brothers suit and loafers.

"You're Taylor Averille," the man turned to her and spoke without introducing himself.

He was handsome in a rugged kind of way, sort of like Sam Elliott in his forties and he had the same gritty Texas drawl blended with some California baritone that was kind of sexy.

"I'm not looking for the world's next best dating app or banking software," Taylor said dismissively.

"Well I hope not because I can't help you with that," the man smiled at her.

"Special Agent David Campbell," the man opened his jacket a little so that Taylor could see the ID clipped to the inside pocket.

Taylor felt her blood run cold but she remained calm.

"I can't see that properly, can you take it out please," she asked.

"No I can't. Not here. Please just behave like you are having a pleasant conversation with an acquaintance, it's possible that we are being watched," the Agent said, smiling like they were just engaged in a tête-à-tête.

Taylor felt lightheaded.

"Why? Who would be watching us?" she whispered.

"Never mind that for now. I'm going to stand up and walk away and you are going to wait five minutes and then take out your phone and pretend to make a call, just like you are ordering up a car. Wait another five minutes and then walk to South Columbus Drive and near the crosswalk you will see a black town car. Get in the back seat like it's the car you just ordered. Can you do that?" David Campbell said, all the time smiling like they were having a pleasant conversation.

"What if I say no," Taylor said defiantly.

"Then sometime soon when you least expect it, an FBI entry team is going to batter open the door to your apartment and you are going to be arrested by men wearing body armour, carrying high-powered weapons and they are going to cuff you and haul your ass away," he said, smiling sweetly.

Taylor began to shake.

"Try to behave naturally please. That scenario is unlikely because I know that you are a good person and that you are going to do as I ask," the agent continued to smile.

"I'm leaving now. See you in the car," he patted her knee like he was an old friend or an uncle or something.

Taylor sat still. She was stunned and all sorts of scenarios were playing out in her mind. Has FreeCom committed some Federal crime? What did the FBI investigate? Corporate fraud for sure, also intellectual property theft and embezzlement maybe? All she knew was that as far as she was concerned she had not committed a crime; unless being magically transforming from a man to a woman was a crime?

She took out her phone and saw that her hands were shaking. She fumbled, nearly dropping it but she recovered it and brought up her contact list. She scrolled through it and found her car company and pretended to call them. She knew that she was being ridiculous she could bring up any number but for some reason it was important to her that she was as authentic as possible.

Taylor took the phone from her ear after speaking to no one but pretended to order a car to pick her up. She waited five minutes and pretended that she had just received a text telling her that her car was here and she stood up and walked to South Columbus Drive. She felt like she was walking on a moving platform like the ones at the funfair where you take one step forward and two steps back, but she made it to the crosswalk and sure enough the town car was idling at the curb.

The traffic in the lane behind it was backed up and she heard an angry voice calling her a self-entitled bitch as the door opened and she climbed in. The car accelerated away so quickly that she was thrown back in her seat.

Sitting on the bench across from her was Agent Campbell trying hard to keep his eyes above her waist. Her coat was open and her legs were akimbo, her skirt had hitched up in her hurry to get into the car and the driver's expedited departure. She closed her legs, pulled down her skirt and closed her coat.

"Can I see that ID now?" Taylor said indignantly once she had gained her composure.

Agent Campbell produced a black wallet. He had put the ID card back into it and she could see the emblem of the FBI and text certifying that the signature and photograph belonged to Special Agent David Campbell. In the other compartment was a gold shield and a white card signed by the Director of the FBI charging Special Agent Campbell with the duty of investigating violations of the laws of the USA. She had never seen FBI ID before and she supposed it could easily be faked but she decided to accept that it was real for now.

"What do you want Agent Campbell? Am I under arrest?" Taylor asked.

"You are not under arrest but what I want from for you is to spend the afternoon with me while I show you something," Agent Campbell said.

"Why Agent Campbell... we have only just met," Taylor smiled salaciously.

"I'm sorry that didn't come out right," he blushed at the accidental double entendre.

Taylor felt a little more in control. She pulled out her phone and opened the calendar.

"I have a meeting with some sales executives from Nordstrom this afternoon," Taylor scrolled down through her appointment list.

"Veronique Pascal can handle that meeting. Soliciting clients is her forte anyway," Agent Campbell responded matter-of-factly.

Taylor's eyes narrowed. The FBI seemed to know a lot about her business.

"Call her and make an excuse. An old friend has arrived in Chicago unexpectedly and cold-called you on a hunch that you're in town. You haven't seen him for years and you are on your way to O'Hare to collect him and catch up; you trust her to take the meeting with Nordstrom," David Campbell smiled and once again she was reminded of Sam Elliott.

"You have this very well planned," Taylor commented.

"Of course we do; we're the FBI," David's smile widened.

"Also it will explain why you got into a town car if anyone was actually watching you."

"Don't you know?" Taylor asked.

David just shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal that he didn't.

Taylor made the call and talked about some other business with Veronique while the town car drove to O'Hare International Airport, stopping briefly at the passenger pickup point and then accelerated away. The car sped up, slowed down, changed lanes, and barely made it through changing traffic lights. It entered and left several parking garages by different entrances and exits and it was obvious to her that the driver was shaking any tail there may be.

"They probably wouldn't have had time to organise a tail but it pays to be careful," David said, anticipating Taylor's next question.

"Who are they?" Taylor was about done with the cloak and dagger routine and wanted him to get to the point.

"All in good time Taylor... is it ok if I call you Taylor?" he gave her the heartbreak smile.

"Sure, why not. We're old friends aren't we?" Taylor said smugly.

The car pulled into the underground car park of a two story nondescript concrete and steel building and Taylor and David alighted. He took her to an elevator and punched in a code that took them to the second floor. He escorted her along a dim passageway to a room that he opened using another passcode.

"So what was it you want to show me?" Taylor said.

She was invited to sit at a conference table where a laptop was plugged into an overhead projector. There was no one else in the room and there was jug of water but only two glasses in the centre of the table. Taylor figured that they were not going to be joined by anyone else.

"I'm going to show you some images, some of which will shock you but I think it's important that I put the purpose of this meeting into context," David said.

Taylor said nothing. She was apprehensive but had regained some of her composure. David took a seat and began to work the laptop.

An image appeared on a screen that had been lowered from the ceiling. It showed ten white girls standing next to a Toyota people-mover and two menacing looking, heavily tattooed white men handing a carry-bag to two smaller Hispanic men.

"This was taken outside of Nogales Arizona. The two Hispanic males have illegally transported the women across the border and are delivering the girls to two known Bratoks," David explained.

"A Bratok is a soldier in the Russian Mafia, known colloquially as the Bratva. The girls are Ukrainian nationals and arrived in Mexico on legitimate tourist visas arranged for them by an employment agency in the Ukraine and some of them think they are going to be united with family members living the US and the remainder, most of them, think they are going to find profitable employment. They know that they are entering the US illegally but at this stage they have no idea what awaits."

Taylor suddenly felt sick. She remembered the story that Veronique told her about her previous life as Katcha Kovalenko, being trafficked from the Ukraine into Germany.

"Here was an aerial picture of the Toyota Granvia stopped next to a warehouse in Phoenix. Note the line of men waiting to enter the warehouse. An FBI entry team busted into the warehouse but not until after the men had had loaded up the girls and hit the road. Inside they found that part of the warehouse had been partitioned into small cubicles containing mattresses and a bedsheets. There was evidence that the girls had been forced to entertain multiple sex partners during the two hour stopover. You see where this is going?" David said deliberately.

Taylor nodded.

"This was the girls final destination. It's a ranch just outside of Las Vegas. They had already been 'conditioned' as they call it, by the stream of men who paid to use them in the Phoenix warehouse. The girls lived in a big dormitory under the strict control of the Bratoks until they were farmed out to a string of brothels throughout Nevada and California. Some were shipped east to work in brothels there," a series of pictures showed the long barracks-style building surrounded by smaller farmhouses.