The great escape

Precisely at 4:20 pm, Vanessa sent Cheryl out of her office with instructions to go home for the evening. In the last half hour Vanessa's productivity had gone to the dumps anyway, as she obsessively checked the clock.

At 4:21, Vanessa was fuming, pacing, ready to explode. She fantasized about smashing the clock driving her mad into Brand's smug, cocky, face.

At 4:24, Vanessa's nerves were shot. She could no longer ball her hands. She needed to use the bathroom so badly that she stopped pacing and did a little 'pee dance', all alone in her office, before prudently rushing out, past Cheryl's empty desk and down the hallway.

The distraught executive was back in her office by 4:28. She thought about looking for recipes online, and like every time before rejected the ridiculous idea. She had ready-made, weekly-delivered healthy meals in her refrigerator and freezer - a major staple of her diet. Brand could have one. If, by some chance, he actually did say for dinner.

Or... maybe two. He was a big guy.

He wouldn't stay for dinner, though. He would have to find some other -

A knock at the door startled Vanessa so badly that she jumped. Her own skittish reaction turned her mood even darker.

Straightening her skirt, straightening her hair, Vanessa squared her shoulders. In a flash she made up her mind.

She would tell Brand to go fuck himself. She would tell him to cut off his dick and stick it up his ass. She would verbally blitz him so hard, so furiously, so fast that he wouldn't be able to recover in time to realize his demands while Vanessa shoved past him and walked away.

There were still others in the office, he couldn't just chase her down and make a scene. Not while he was still reeling, still wondering what his supposed target might say next.

He would be pissed when he realized what happened, but he was smart enough and been around enough to know when he got played. He wouldn't give up his chase, his prize, that easily. Whatever the consequences, they wouldn't wind up with Vanessa in jail. She was almost sure of that. And regardless of what Brand would counter with later having the space, the precious time to consider her next move... it would be worth it.

Vanessa had her briefcase in hand. Her feet would have to be as fast as her mouth. Her eyes were already pointed upwards, right where Brand's eyes would be. She gathered her anger until it was a burning star of righteousness, burning the back of her throat, waiting to supernova.

Vanessa opened the portal to a warzone.

There was no one there. Not until she lowered her eyes, and saw a bob of lustrous brunette hair a foot shorter than where Brand's eyes would be.

Cheryl's pretty face stood in the doorway, a stack of papers in her hand. She was supposed to be going home already! Vanessa almost unleashed her rage right at her unsuspecting secretary.

"What."

It wasn't a question. It was an announcement that Cheryl was unwelcome. Faced with the taller, fuller figure of her clearly unhappy boss, Cheryl held up her papers nervously.

"I, uh, sorry Miss I was leaving and... I was think about what you said about the... I was wondering if I could take this home to s-study, like... it was just a thought, I had some ideas..."

Vanessa almost groaned out loud. The girl just wanted to help...

"Yes, of course. Thank you. That would be grea- Jesus, Brand!"

Silently, like a great grinning cat, Brand was there in the doorway. His hands squeezed either side of the frame, standing quite a bit closer to Cheryl than comfortable personal space allowed and effectively locking both women inside Vanessa's office, "Ready to go?"

Vanessa just stood, her voice stolen for a moment too long. Cheryl was looking at her with her big doe eyes, and looked at Brand behind her. Everything was wrong. The scene was wrong. Vanessa nodded dumbly, and blushed as Cheryl raised her eyebrow.

What was wrong with her? Vanessa shivered as she gathered her briefcase, and left with Brand's arm possessively on the small of her back.

She could still run. It was the same thing as she had been planning - he still couldn't chase her without causing a scene. But, somehow, without that same social switch of being the aggressor, storming away and leaving Brand in a state of surprised bewilderment, she couldn't bring the shame on herself. The shame of crying out and running away like a **** damsel, rather than a woman who had warded off her attacker. Not down the halls of her workplace - a place that was more a home to her than her own house. Without achieving that first blow it wasn't the same. She wasn't the same. While berating her weakness, her foolish sense of pride and embarrassment that wouldn't allow her to run off, Vanessa let herself be led meekly. She didn't look at Brand the whole way down to the heated underground garage, not as he walked beside her and just behind her, not in the elevator. Vanessa tried to pretend he wasn't shadowing her. With some cruel intuition Brand helped her flimsy illusion by not speaking, by handling her like he was leading a half-wild animal - with a gentle-but-steady physical prompt, no sudden moves, and no sudden noises.

The shiny steel doors of the elevator opened at the basement floor. Reserved for the company elite, the underground parking was relatively small compared to the standard TAC parking lot. Except for the whirring of heated ventilation, it was dead quiet. They were alone. Vanessa's feet stuck in the elevator, not wanting to leave, and Brand's guiding touch on her back became firm, pressing, almost forcing the black businesswoman out of the safety of the camera-protected metal elevator.

"There we go. You're alright." Brand patted Vanessa's rump, and let his fingers linger, tracing their way up cleft of her buttcrack through her taut skirt. "Where's our car, honey?" A gentle squeeze to her posterior caused Vanessa to take a step further. She swallowed, and found that by habit she had gathered her keys into her hand already. She pointed with them towards the middle of the brightly lit garage, to a shiny black Lincoln Continental.

Brand grabbed the keys out of Vanessa's hand, and began walking confidently forward. Anger, too long subdued, flared in Vanessa's heart. It wouldn't be denied. "Hey! Give those back! Brand!? It's my car! H-hey! Don't walk away!" Vanessa chased after Brand's long, easy strides. She had just bought that car the previous month, he couldn't just... just...

Brand stood at the trunk of the car, dangling the keys straight out for Vanessa. She moved to grab them, only to find them just out of reach. Frustrated, she again tried to grab them, jumping in her heels this time and almost falling. Again with a simple movement of his shoulder Vanessa found herself hopelessly outmatched by Brand's juvenile game of keep-away. And if the game was juvenile, Vanessa found herself blushing at her reaction. What the hell was she doing, jumping for her keys like a fucking schoolgirl who's bully had her favorite toy? Yelling like a petulant child for her own goddamn keys?

But... what else could she do?

Nothing. She couldn't do anything. Just... wait. Let Brand have control. Like she had been doing since he practically **** her throat earlier. Vanessa pressed her mouth into a thin line and stood still. Waiting for Brand to stop toying with her.

"That's better," Brand smirked at Vanessa, and put the keys in his pocket for safekeeping. "Moment of truth: Did you keep my cum on your big black tits all day like you were told?"

Like she was told...

And she did. She had obeyed the sick command, had ignored that she did have a choice. God help her. "Fuck you." Vanessa defiantly spat at her enemy's feet.

Brand shrugged, and in one swift movement ripped Vanessa's blouse wide open with both of his hands, sending buttons popping and bouncing all over the hard concrete floor. A little cry of surprise escaped her lips at his bold move, and Vanessa grabbed the front of her clothing, crossing it over her chest to cover herself. Brand made no move to stop her, and affected a slightly bored expression instead.

"If you did do it - and by your reaction we both know you did - you might as well show me. Otherwise, why did you even keep all that stuff on your chest in the first place? Because you liked it?" Brand's perverse thinking held a kind of twisted logic. Vanessa had kept herself filthy, had smelled the musk of his **** all day to make things easier on herself. She hadn't thought about it like that, but it was true, it had to be true. So why was she making this a battle?

Because he had made it a battle, had goaded her. Because he was a pig. Because he had all the power, and Vanessa hated it.

Vanessa wished any of those reasons were something that she could use, that helped. They couldn't, and didn't.

Every moment she wasted was a moment closer to someone coming upon her humiliating scene. Once again, time was not on her side. Still clutching the opening of her blouse, Vanessa **** her hands apart. Brand's smug look became decidedly more lecherous as she opened further, revealing the curves of her soft brown skin for him. Brown skin, marred by the dried white stains of Brand's defilement, and her pain.

Vanessa stood there, top open, for long... long seconds. Brand showed no signs of letting her stop. "Come here," Brand finally broke the silence, "Don't close your top."

In heels, shirt spread wide open by her own hands, Vanessa felt like a whore displaying her wares as she followed Brand around the side of her car.

Out of view of the few cameras in the private garage, she realized. Just wanting her latest humiliation to be over, Vanessa didn't fight when Brand firmly grabbed her breasts, squeezing them through her bra. She didn't flinch, when Brand's hands slid underneath her blouse and blazer, to her shoulders, and lowered the straps of her undergarment.

She was almost proud of that. Of not flinching for him. She wanted to. She wanted to scream, and beg, and cry. Instead she stood in the quiet nook between her car and a gold Mercedes SUV, exposing herself. Looking shamefully to the side with unshed tears in her eyes while she let the white brute blackmailing her fondle her cum-stained tits and pinch her hardening nipples.

Brand stood even closer, groped her harder. His arousal was apparent. It was pressing against her lower belly. All the playfulness drained from his eyes. They were serious, and when Vanessa allowed herself to see them they trapped her gaze.

"Go to the hood of the car."

Vanessa's heart pounded in her chest. "Brand... there, there might not be time. Let's just go, we can think about this later."

"You're not here to think, darkie. If you're worried about time you'd better hurry." Brand's eyes, his tone... ignoring them was impossible. Vanessa took a step toward the front of her car, and another.

"Turn around." She had known this was coming. Maybe hadn't expected it right that moment, but... She would stop making the same mistakes. She would get this over with.

"Bend over." Her body was responding. That was natural. It was just ensuring that she wouldn't be damaged. It wasn't her. She could take it. She was better than him, better than this. Vanessa shivered as she bent at the waist and her naked chest touched the cool metal hood of her car.

Anticipating the next humiliating prompt Vanessa lifted up her skirt, shimmying it up over her round behind and generous hips. With her rear thrust outwards she put her hands on her car, preparing herself for the worst.

"There's my good girl... show Daddy your moneymakers, now." As if she had wanted to... Vanessa felt used, and Brand hadn't even begun taking her. She tugged her panties off her tush, and Brand took them down farther, over her thighs and let them drop over her knees and around her ankles.

"Which is your best? Number one?" Brand touched her pussy, running his fingers up her swollen lips. She hated how sensitive it felt, how slick and ready. Vanessa's cheeks came next, a thumb on either side stretched her wide open. Cool air flowed over her puckered little hole... "Number two?"

"Fuck you, Mister Barrington," Vanessa's voice was raw. "Number..." This was so wrong. She didn't want to say 'one'... it was so degrading, so impersonal, like a vending machine. But 'vagina', 'pussy', those were even worse. Vanessa's agitated mind couldn't think of anything better, "One. Put it in hole number one."

Vanessa arched her back, preparing to get rammed. She would get him for this. Everything that he was doing -

A car door opened and slammed shut inches away. Breasts on the hood of her car, panties around her ankles, skirt around her waist, Vanessa opened her eyes and saw Brand waving at her through her windshield. "Fuck!" Vanessa swore out loud, and slapped the transparent barrier separating her from privacy and security. "Bastard! Let me..." Vanessa stumbled over to the driver's side window, pounding on the spotlessly clean tinted glass. It rolled down, just a bit. A centimeter, if that.

"Want in?"

Vanessa almost screamed in frustration.

"Open the fucking door, Brand!" Her voice was close to breaking. A whirring sounded over the ventilation. The elevator was coming to life. Panic started welling, an evil sensation so unfamiliar to Vanessa before Brand started tormenting her. She pounded harder on the window, rattling it. "Brand! Mister Barrington! Someone is coming! Let me in!"

"Put your pussy on the glass, Vanessa."

A phone was lighting up her car interior. Foiled, humiliated, trapped again... Vanessa growled. She pounded her fist one more time, and seeing no other option shuffled around on her heels. With her head turned, tears began falling from her eyes as she scooted her feet back, spread her legs, and planted her bare genitalia right on the glass of the window. She scooted farther, mashing her hairy lips and vulva hard against the viewing portal, allowing the phone inside to film or photograph the distorted image of her pressed vagina. Even in the heated garage, against her own wetness and the heat coming off her privates the glass was uncomfortably cold.

"Harder. Spread it."

The elevator behind her started shuddering to a stop. Any moment the doors would open, and then only the small forest of automobiles would protect her from her co-workers seeing her pressing her vagina against her vehicle for Brand's viewing pleasure. Vanessa's hands found her thighs and gripped the inside of them hard. She could feel her pink insides open up, exposed and flattened against the window.

"Rub it in circles."

"Damn you..." It was a whisper, and Vanessa didn't pause. A horrible squeaking sounded as she began bending her knees, moving her hips... grinding against the clean car window... leaving a slimy trail of arousal and shame on the driver's side window.

"Your butthole."

The elevator doors opened. Voices, voices of half-recognized co-workers dimly sounded in Vanessa's ears. She spread her black asscheeks and bent her knees at a different angle to better shove her anus hard against the clear barrier. She got it all the way against the glass, spreading so hard, pressing it so hard that it touched, and smooshed her sphincter flat.

"Please... please..." Vanessa was sure that Brand couldn't hear her **** whisper, but she needed to believe she wouldn't be left like this. The doors finally unlocked with an audible click. With her panties still around her ankles, actually tangled in her heels now Vanessa waddled over to the rear doorway, head ducked low so that she couldn't be seen over her car.

The car began reversing. No! The stretchy fabric of Vanessa's panties threatened to trip her bound feet with every shuffling half-step. No... no... no... Vanessa concentrated her entire being on not falling on her naked chest, not falling with her bare ass in the air with her feet bound. She stayed bent over behind her mobile cover, half-crouching as she hobbled along. The voices grew louder, as did the steps. She chased the handle of her car door. It was tantalizingly close, moving so slowly... but still fast enough to be out of her clumsy reach. The car stopped reversing, and Vanessa felt a surge of triumph as she grabbed the smooth black handle. Almost! She opened the car door, panting. The voices were so close. Oh, god. Vanessa hopped into the back seat with a thrust of both heeled feet; performing a **** sideways roll that no woman her age should have to commit to.

Vanessa found herself inside her car. She slammed the door shut. Her heeled feet were in the air, wrapped up in her own panties. Her shoulders were on the seat. She was upside down, bare assed, feet bound and waving in the air, breasts heaving with exertion.

Brand was in the front seat, laughing hysterically, like Vanessa's desperation was just about the funniest show he had ever seen. He adjusted the rear view mirror, the better to examine her bare thighs... her exposed womanhood...

Vanessa dropped to her side, so she couldn't be seen by her co-workers with her feet kicking around her back seat while Brand started driving away. She tried to ignore him... tried to slowly start righting herself and to pick up her panties, and with them her shattered dignity. She could feel her too-wet vagina defile the clean leather seat underneath her, and it was almost a minute more before she could get her panties off her heels and back into their rightful place.

She refused to look into the rear view mirror, where Brand's eyes were glancing at her. But in her morbid curiosity she couldn't avoid seeing the slick pattern she had made with her vagina and butthole against the driver's window - including the final impression she made... a clear, flat image of her snatch, complete with an upsidedown pear-shape in the middle and the precise little scratches her pubic hair made in the juices she left behind.